#left (or top-left) of each bracket is least dangerous while right (or bottom-right) is most

[aceofvase]

been thinking about it lately so here’s every original scooby-doo villain organized by how close they come to killing someone on-screen

[artificialqueens]

What Happens At Dragcon... (2-4/?) (Biadore) - Miss Alyssa Secret

Yesterday’s one-shot continues with Roy’s adventures on the DragCon floor leading up to Adore’s performance. Except, Roy has to make it out of the dressing room first (without running into Trixie and Katya).  Raja works  her magic, we meet some shippers, and Adore plays dirty.  Also?  Danny likes to take photos during sex…

Chapter One

Read full work on AO3

A/N: Continued by popular demand!  There will be at least two more chapters after this, possibly more.  Tongue in cheek references completely intended. - MAS

********

Chapter Two

“There.”

Roy set down the brushes and leaned back in satisfaction, nodding decisively.  It had taken the better part of the remaining seven minutes to repair the damage done to Adore’s makeup, particularly the lipstick smeared from nose to chin and his thumbprints in the foundation lining her jaw.  He probably could have fixed it in half the time, but her stolen kisses and wandering hands were making it exceedingly difficult to concentrate.  Those same hands gripped his waist when he went to stand, keeping him firmly seated straddling her lap.  

“..‘Dore…” he murmured, tucking a stray bobby pin back under her wig, “You need to get back out there.”

She stubbornly ignored his attempts to catch her attention, fondling his semi-hard dick and sucking the leaking wetness off of her fingers.  He could feel her erection rubbing against the underside of his balls as she rocked in the chair, and it was a struggle not to give in.  

“Hey.“  Roy gently gripped her wrists, lacing their fingers together between their chests.  “I don’t want to either, but, yeah.”

Danny stared back from behind Adore’s makeup, longing and frustration written across her face. 

“Fuck.  I know.”

“It’s just a few more hours,” he soothed, kissing the knuckles of both hands before pushing himself to his feet.  This time, she let him stand, pulling her up as well.  The stiff gold fabric of her pants would hide the evidence, but he was going to need a few more minutes before he could re-button the shorts.

“Go on, I need to fix this.”

She caught his shoulders as he went to turn back to the makeup cases.  

“Nah, you just look like me after making out with fans.“  Her grin was lopsided, tongue poking out of the corner of her mouth.  "Leave it, yeah?”

“Only for you.” He rolled his eyes dramatically but couldn’t hide the affectionate smile.

They both froze as footsteps passed too close by for comfort, and Roy nudged her gently towards the curtain.

“Runway."  Adore pressed their mouths together one last time, lips still sticky with his pre-come.  "Don’t be late."  

********

Chapter Three

Sneaking back out of the dressing room was exponentially more complicated than sneaking in.  They’d fortuitously picked a time when most of the queens were at their booths or out on the floor, but now they were starting to stream back in for touch ups and costume adjustments.

Roy peeked through the sliver of space between the curtain and divider, mentally tabulating the number of times the door opened and footsteps passed in or out.  A few feet away, Katya was doing what sounded like gymnastics against the other side of the partition while Trixie took a call from what was probably her boyfriend.  

He needed to slip out of there before someone else came looking for Adore and found him there instead.  That would likely result in one of two things; either whomever it was would completely blow his cover, or worse, they wouldn’t recognize him at all and call for security or start whispering about Adore’s supposed behavior.  They might not have a neatly categorized relationship, but it was an open secret that any perceived deviation from would spread like herpes through the drag network.

Twisting the tattered T-shirt hem between his fingers, Roy was close to taking his chances with a dash for the door when the curtain snapped open in front of him.  

“Be right there!” Raja sounded completely nonchalant, waving Katya back around the corner.  Before he could say anything, Raja crowded him back into the small space, shutting the curtain again behind her.

“We’re heading back out.”  Trixie sounded like she was right outside, and he shrank back, ready to dive behind Adore’s oversized suitcase.  He’d always gotten on well with the life-sized Barbie and her faux-Russian shadow, but Roy really wanted to keep his visit for Danny only.  Well, as much as possible, given the exception fixing him with a bemused look.

“Adore asked me to get her phone charger,” Raja called back, “meet you guys on the floor after I get it, I don’t know how she finds anything in this mess.”

”Probably Bianca has labeled spares of everything.”  Trixie’s voice was laced with dry humor.  “C’mon Kat, Raja can catch up.”

As the door banged shut behind them, Raja pointed a long, elegant finger at his chest.

“I’m surprised, you know.  So unexpected, Adore must be rubbing off on you.”  She paused, the double entendre registering.  “Well, clearly, but really, I thought she was just going to pine away on social media.”

”Ummm…”  Raja was barely a year older, but in moments like this Roy felt unimaginably close to saying ‘sorry Mom.’

”Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.”  The hand attached to the finger waved ephemerally.  “Just wasn’t expecting you to be living so dangerously.”  Her enigmatic smile softened the words, clearly meant as a tease.

”Thanks.”  

She tilted her head to the side, the tiny gold charms on her headpiece chiming quietly. A frown creased her forehead, and she seemed to be studying his face.  

”What?”

Raja dug into the open cases on the vanity, coming up with cream foundation and a contour shade.  Gripping his chin gently, she spun a brush between her fingers before doing…something to his face with deft strokes.  

“Much better.”

Roy was justifiably confident in his makeup skills, but being scrutinized by a legend like Raja was enough to make anyone nervous.

She turned him to face the mirror, and he did a double take.  Somehow, she’d altered the contour he’d drawn in to soften the sharpness of his jaw, nearly erasing the creases bracketing his mouth and making the bridge of his nose appear lower.  Without the dimples and aquiline nose, hiding the two most distinctive Bianca features meant that his chances of being recognized on sight alone were now vanishingly low.

”How?  I’ve never been able to…?”

”I can show you later.  It’s about the angle you’re painting from.”

He’d always had a healthy respect for Raja’s ability to paint others, but this was a firsthand demonstration of why Sutan had a successful career long before he ever set foot on RuPaul’s runway.

“Actually, Adore really did ask me to get her charger.  I don’t suppose you know where she keeps it?”

Without looking away, Roy reached for the Misfits backpack slung on the back of the chair, unzipping the outer pocket and handing the bundle of cord over.

Still smiling serenely, Raja leaned forward to kiss his cheek.  “Perfect.  I’ll make sure the coast is clear, then let’s get you out of here.”

********

Chapter Four

Roy prowled the convention floor, reveling in the anonymity of being buffeted by the crowds.  He thought back to the nearly two decades before Drag Race where his face was unrecognizable on Bourbon Street or at the Ritz, just another gay boy until he put on Bianca for the evening.  

The sense of nostalgia was short-lived though, as he nearly walked right into a mixed group of teenagers stationed outside one of the bathrooms.  They were oblivious, engrossed in whatever had them hunched together over their phones.  He was about to nudge his way past to get into the restroom when what they were saying caught his attention.

”…look, I’m not saying it means anything, but you can totally see how she’s liking Bianca’s posts!”  That was a skinny girl wearing an Adore tank top and flannel tied around her waist.

The boy on her left wielded his own phone like a holy text, waving it in front of her face.  “Yeah sure, but Bianca keeps calling different people ‘my good time gal’ and saying she loves them.  It’s not significant, obviously.”

Roy casually leaned on the wall a few feet away, back mostly turned as he pretended to fiddle with his own phone.

”But what about all of the ABCD tour photos?  The ones where they’re holding hands and the way they look at each other and all of the touching?”

”Well…”

”And Adore’s body language-!  She’s leaning on Bianca and-“

”Whatever.”  A third member of the group scoffed dismissively.  “Adore could do so much better than that.”

There was a collective gasp, air pressure dropping into negative territory as a full group of under-twenties held their breath.  The first and second suddenly allied themselves against a common foe.

”What the fuck?”

”I can’t believe you just-“

”Adore isn’t going to fuck your sorry ass, so you might as well shut up about Bianca.”

”-dumbass biadore shippers.”  The person turned on their heel and stalked off in the other direction.  Roy couldn’t decide if he should be amused or indignant, but finally settled on texting Adore himself.

Your fans are currently arguing about whether or not we love each other.  Also, if my balls strangle in these shorts I’m blaming you.

The delivered and read notifications immediately popped up, followed by the (…) typing notification.  

Adore’s response arrived a few seconds later and he nearly choked at the surge of lust the picture evoked.  

It was one Danny had taken a few weeks ago before Roy left for London.  That had been one of the last few days they’d been able to spend together with just the two of them, and somehow discussing their tour plans had turned into insatiable need for bare skin on skin.

The composition was skewed from the angle Danny had been holding his phone, but all of the details were clear.  In it, he was buried balls deep in Roy’s ass, hand yanking his head back by the hair as they fucked over the dresser in Roy’s bedroom.  The photo captured his shoulders at the bottom of the frame, and his face and Danny’s torso reflected in the mirror on the wall.  His mouth was hanging open, eyes glazed and hands braced against the edge of the dresser.  All of the things normally neatly arranged on top were overturned, swept aside in their haste.  

Roy tried to subtly adjust himself as he focused on the purpling love bites scattered across Danny’s chest and stomach, thinking of the whimpers of pleasure they’d accompanied.  He remembered Danny’s intense stare as they locked eyes in the mirror, remembered telling him to take a picture “because it’ll last longer”.  He’d intended to make Danny delete it, but had gotten distracted by rounds two and three that afternoon and evening.  

He moved to the restroom, locking himself in a stall and peeling down shorts and tights.  Palming his stiff cock, he took a picture of his own and sent it in reply.

Don’t tempt me, I’m already so fucking hard I could jerk off right here.

(…)

Prove it.

[solaciummeae]

Muse Interview Meme

Lent to by: @down-in-dixie

1. WHAT IS YOUR NAME? "That would be Ryan Timothy Theirin.”

2. WHAT IS YOUR REAL NAME? “No really-- that is my name.”

3. DO YOU KNOW WHY YOU WERE CALLED THAT? “Negatory.”

4. ARE YOU SINGLE OR TAKEN? “Now you see, that’s a complicated question-- there is-- someone...and it’s uh-- going places...but we haven’t exactly put a definition to things...so I suppose I’m not single, but not technically taken...”

5. HAVE ANY ABILITIES OR POWERS? “Well now that all depends on when you catch me.”

6. STOP BEING A MARY SUE/GARY STU. “Isn’t that like-- when someone’s too perfect to be real? Have you met me? I’m in no terms, under no circumstances perfect. But I appreciate the implication.”

7. WHAT’S YOUR EYE COLOR? “A very greyish blue.”

8. HOW ABOUT YOUR HAIR COLOR? “That would be brown.”

9. HAVE YOU ANY FAMILY MEMBERS? “Yes, a mother Beth, a father Elliott-- and my best friend Raven, who I’ve known since childhood that I’m very close to who is family and her little sister Angelina, who is more of a daughter really-- complicated situation, but that little girl also happens to be like my daughter as well.”

10. OH? WHAT ABOUT PETS? “No unfortunately, I’ve been thinking about adopting one though. I’ve kinda got a sort of joint custody with Raven’s cat. He’s a black tabby named Tiger Baby.”

11. THAT’S COOL I GUESS, NOW TELL ME ABOUT SOMETHING YOU DON’T LIKE. “Uhhh...--oh, well I definitely don’t like the sheer amount of years I spent trying to pretend I was straight.”

12. DO YOU HAVE ANY HOBBIES/ACTIVITIES YOU LIKE DOING? “Sure-- I like water a lot, so I lifeguard and also play water polo and swim a fair amount. I also like helping other people a lot and try to do that as much as possible. I’m an avid journaler. I like to record my life in a handwritten book and keep track of my memories that way. And uh-- I love photography too. I’m constantly taking pictures. Guess it’s another way of recording life.”

13. EVER HURT ANYONE BEFORE? “Unfortunately yes. Never by intent, but I’d say I’ve hurt just about any woman I’ve ever been with by trying to be someone I wasn’t. I never intended to hurt anyone, it was more an inability or lack of courage to be true to myself.”

14. EVER….KILLED ANYONE BEFORE? “I’m actually a doctor-- so I’m more in the business of saving lives than taking them.”

15. WHAT KIND OF ANIMAL ARE YOU? “Mmm...good question. I like to think I’m a wolf spirit. Beautiful creatures.”

16. NAME YOUR WORST HABITS. “Sticking my whole foot into my mouth. It’s a talent really. I seem to have a knack for saying the wrong thing. Sometimes on purpose, sometimes not. And uh, I have a nasty habit of pushing myself too hard, trying to pour from an empty cup as it were. I’m so used to taking care of other people I forget how to let myself be taken care of. Ask the aforementioned-- someone I’ve been seeing.”

17. DO YOU LOOK UP TO ANYONE AT ALL? “Probably Raven more than anyone. She got dealt a really horrible hand and somehow never let it stop her. She’s been an adult since the age of 14, and never once complained about the enormous pressure she was put under in raising a child that her own mother wasn’t capable of taking care of before said mother ran out on them. She’s the strongest, most loving, deeply empathetic woman I know. And she’s braver than the rest. Whenever I’m feeling weak, I think about her and all we’ve been through together. She reminds me that no matter how bad it gets, it can always get better.”

18. GAY, STRAIGHT, OR BISEXUAL? “Once upon a time, I was straight. In fact, I was a bit of a lady’s man-- ironically. But that was before I realized I was living in a lie. One I couldn’t bear anymore. So I’m actually quite gay.”

19. DO YOU GO TO SCHOOL? “I did. More than most. Medical school is absolutely no joke.”

20. DO YOU EVER WANT TO MARRY AND HAVE KIDS ONE DAY? “Absolutely. I think my idea of what that looks like has changed quite a bit. And I do already have a kid-- just because Raven and I didn’t end up together doesn’t mean Angel is any less mine. But I would love to have more if I found the right partner. Fingers crossed I’m on the way to that.”

21. DO YOU HAVE ANY FANBOYS/FANGIRLS? “Not that I’m aware of...as I’ve said, I used to date a lot. Used to see a lotta women. Some more serious than others. But thank god those days are behind me and I’m hoping that I’ll be as successful finding someone of the right gender. Oddly enough-- though I dated plenty, I’m more of a serious relationship kinda guy.”

22. WHAT ARE YOU MOST AFRAID OF? “Something happening to Raven and/or Angel has always been one of my greatest fears after the life we’ve shared together. They’ve been through a lot and I with them. But along with that-- I think I’ve been afraid of coming out for a long time now. Being who I really am. Disappointing all of the people who thought I was straight. The backlash that comes with being out of the closet.”

23. WHAT DO YOU USUALLY WEAR? “When I’m not at work? I’m pretty casual. I like a good pair of dark blue jeans, a white v-neck, maybe a plaid flannel over it, leather jackets. Or if I’m feeling my age a knit sweater.”

24. DO YOU LOVE SOMEONE? “Absolutely. I’ve got a very wide circle of friends and family and I love each and every one of them. As for being in love-- that’s a loaded question. I might be. I-- I think I’m falling in love with someone. But I’m worried he doesn’t feel the same way.”

25. WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU WET YOURSELF? “What-- what kinda question is that? I’m-- not sure honestly-- too long ago to remember...”

26. WHAT CLASS ARE YOU? (HIGH CLASS, MIDDLE CLASS, LOW CLASS) “Are we talking about the kind of person I am? Or my financial status? Because depending on which you’d probably get a different answer. I’d like to think I’m a middle class kinda person, but I’m in the upper middle class bracket financially.”

27. HOW MANY FRIENDS DO YOU HAVE? “Well there’s really a whole clan of us-- we weren’t always so big in numbers but we all kinda gravitated toward each other and one family knew another who knew someone else and it was kinda this great merging of several cliques who all live in this city. So I’m blessed with many.”

28. WHAT ARE YOUR THOUGHTS ON PIE? “Okay, who doesn’t like pie? Why was this question even a thing? I think if you don’t like pie there might be something wrong with you. That’s like people who don’t like sweet things. How can you not want something sweet every once in a while. Pie is a yes for me.”

29. FAVOURITE DRINK? “Green tea with sugar, not honey. Hot or iced. Either is good. In fact, just about any sweet tea is good. If we’re talking something stronger. I tend to prefer whiskey.”

30. WHAT’S YOUR FAVOURITE PLACE? “This is tough. I like getting out and exploring. Going places I’ve never been. But I like used book stores. Especially if they’ve got a rare selection. Plus I love that bookstore cats are a thing. I’ve made friends with many.”

31. ARE YOU INTERESTED IN SOMEONE? “Yeah-- see questions 4 and 24. Not really sure how interested in me he is. But uh-- I think it’s safe to say I’ve officially left the interested zone and tumbled headfirst into the dangerous place of falling or fallen for.”

32. WHAT’S YOUR BRA CUP SIZE AND/OR HOW BIG IS YOUR WILLY? “Who’s asking?”

33. WOULD YOU RATHER SWIM IN THE LAKE OR THE OCEAN? “Either/Or. Like I said. I love water. Despite being a fire sign.” 34. WHAT’S YOUR TYPE? “Ya know we were actually just talking about this the other night. Apparently I like ‘em short, with dark hair and dark eyes. Strong personality. Takes no shit. Can ‘wipe the fuckin’ floor with me’ despite being 5′4...”

35. ANY FETISHES? “None that I’d like to share at present.”

36. SEME OR UKE? TOP OR BOTTOM? DOMINANT OR SUBMISSIVE? -laughs- “I had to actually look up the meaning of the first-- I thought we weren’t talking about this? Ah well-- guess at least it isn’t quite as specific as kinks. It’s interesting because the answers to these questions used to be quite different-- use to be seme/top/dominant all the way-- but uh-- you caught me, I’m now more of a uke/bottom/submissive type a guy.”

37. CAMPING OR INDOORS? “Both. I like being indoors well enough but I’ll never turn down an adventure-- and camping-- is always an adventure.”

38. ARE YOU WANTING THE QUIZ TO END? “I’m indifferent I suppose. It’s nice to talk about the things that have changed in my life. Let people get to know me a little better.”

@cranberrybutter

[uglymanchronicles]

UMC:R Chapter 3: Reinstall

Exposition time!  This one gets a bit gory in places, so be forewarned if that sort of thing gets to you.

“Monsters exist.”

It was, by all means, a useless statement.  It sounded stupid.  It sounded like something a little kid telling a ghost story would say, or something one of those wannabe Banksy types would spraypaint on the side of a police station or something.  But, nonetheless, an electric shiver, so potent that it made his breath catch in his throat, ran through his body.  

Because it was him saying it to himself.  He knew his own tells, his own voice… he was being sincere. While it was possible this was all a trick, that password…

“I don’t mean that in a metaphorical sense.  You’ll probably eventually notice some big scars on your back. Those are from a wendigo.  Or is it pronounced when-dee-go? I don’t know, not the point.  Superhumanly strong cannibalistic former humans.  Tough, but they still die if you cut their heads off. Try not to freak out when you see the skull in the bedroom.”

“WHAT.”

“So yeah, there’s all kinds of really bad things out there.  I’ve kept notes.  But there’s also so many good things!”  Old Evan’s eyes lit up and he scooted forward on the chair.  “New things we couldn’t have imagined!  Things outside of physics!  New sciences!  Actual, real magic!  I saw a guy actually jump over a building! Superpowers exist! And here’s the best part: I’ve—shit, we’ve—got one!”

Evan felt his face slacken into an expression of incredulous confusion as the recorded Evan stood up and walked towards the camera. His form loomed over it and ate up most of the frame, but he held the fingertip of his right hand up in front of the lens.

“Watch this.”

From offscreen, a small knife appeared and Evan watched himself drag the blade across his own fingertip. There was an irritated-sounding hiss of discomfort—Jesus, he was cutting deep! His past self shook out his hand, then held up the wounded digit to the camera.

Evan covered his mouth in shock as he realized how bad the cut was. The other him’s bone was visible through the pooling blood. It would require stitches, at least! But…

He looked down at his own, present-time finger. Aside from familiar little cuts, calluses, and blemishes that had been there for years, there was no sign that anything was amiss. Even if this happened months ago, there would still be a scar from it, surely! But there was nothing new.

“Look, here it goes.”

His attention was drawn back to the screen by his own voice. The gashed finger was still front and center, but something was different.

The blood was barely flowing any more. The bone wasn’t visible. As Evan watched, the wound began to visibly narrow, the skin creeping along the edge of the cut like a time-lapse video of lichen growing on a rock. When the opposite edges of the cut grew closer, raw pink skin grew across the gap. Evan swore he could see fibers of skin reach across and connect to the other side. In less than a minute, all that was left of a pretty serious self-inflicted wound was some slightly discolored skin and a scab that looked like it was days old.

“I don’t know why I’m like this, but I don’t think it’s something new,” Old Evan said, sitting back in the chair and idly picking at the skin. “Remember all the times we got hurt and it didn’t seem as bad as it should have been? Getting gored and stomped on by that bull? Getting lost in the woods and finding our way out with that broken leg? The cancer surgery? All the shit Mary did to us? We heal! We heal fast! And from a lot of stuff, too…”

Vid-Evan paused, sounding slightly troubled. “Look, I’m not sure how strong this is yet, but… okay, if you haven’t yet, you’re going to notice there’s a gigantic, awful-looking scar right here on the left side of your…our…dammit, these tenses are fucking me up. Here.” He ran his fingers along his left side, a few inches below his pectoral… right where the mangled hoodie had been repaired.  “I can’t go into all the details, but someone I was hanging out with got…enchanted, mind controlled, something like that.  It didn’t work on me for some reason, but I’d probably have been better off if it did, because he came after me.  And he was a HUGE guy, plus he had superhuman strength, so... I didn’t stand much of a chance.  After he beat me down, he took this huge ax he carried around and…” The recording pantomimed an overhand swing.  “If I hadn’t rolled he’d have split me in half.  As it was, the cut stopped just a couple inches from my spine. Organs pulped, bones shattered… I was out in seconds.  I woke up about an hour later and, well, it still hurt and my shirt was ruined, and I got a MASSIVE scar from it, but…” he spread his hands in front of him.  “I was alive.  Breathing, blood pumping, the whole nine yards.  And that’s not all.  I’ve been shot a few times, stabbed, clawed, punched by things a lot stronger than people… it heals in less than a day.  I don’t know why some of them leave scars and some don’t, but… well, let’s just say we’re not gonna win any beauty pageants.  Sorry.”

 The image on the screen raised his hand to his cheek, and Evan suddenly felt a deep sadness coming from his doppelganger.  He could see something sparkling in his own blue eyes, and realized it was the backlight reflecting off his tears.  The recording took a deep, shaky breath, and continued.

 “Look, I have to get to the point.  There’s a lot of bad shit out there, but there’s a lot of good, too, and I want to be a part of it.  With all the things we know, the things we know how to do… with the right tools, we could really make a difference.  Save people from things they can’t protect themselves from.  But don’t just hunt things down if they’re not hurting anyone. Everything’s got a right to exist as long as they don’t impede on that right of others, right? And go out and make the world better, don’t just fight, y’know?  We’ve always had big ideas.  We’ve got money, we know how to fight.  And we were bored, just tooling around staying out of trouble.  Let’s put all our skills and talents to good use, yeah?  Um…”  

 Film-Evan’s gaze drifted away from the camera.  He pursed his lips and shifted his jaw, twisting his expression as he seemed to struggle with what to say next.   After a few seconds of silence, he reached behind himself and pulled something out of the back pocket of his pants.  He stared down at it for a few moments, then held it up.

“Just being able to heal fast won’t be enough to make a difference, though.  I’ve built some weapons and gathered supplies—there’s an inventory on this computer—but this is the key to us really making this whole thing work.”  

It was a small, worn-looking book, bound in faded leather with a cover decorated with several small inset beads.  It wasn’t much bigger than the average paperback novel and a little over an inch thick, and some of the pages were clearly made of different materials than others.  It had a distinctly cobbled-together look, but the man on the screen ran his fingers over the cover with something resembling reverence.  

“This thing’s had a lot of names, but in more recent times it’s referred to as the Book of Fate.  Kinda cliché, I know, but it’s the real deal.  This thing is both the instruction manual and a key reagent for a magical ritual that’s been in development for centuries.  No, make that millennia.  And, like, tons of cultures.  Most of this thing isn’t in English.  Some of it is later translations, but… anyway, a whole lot of people have been working on this thing for a very long time, but it’s never actually been cast.  Performed. Whatever.

“But what this thing is intended to do, as far as I’ve been able to decipher, is to give the, uh, ‘target’ probably isn’t the right word, but you get what I mean, right?  The target of the ritual.  It’s supposed to give them the ability to develop their own… powerset?  God, it feels weird to use that term to refer to a real thing, but that’s the gist of it.  It’s a bit vague on how, but… well, I always wanted to be the first one to try to do something, didn’t I?  We? Fuck.

“Anyway, I don’t have time to explain everything here, but I’ve got tons of notes and personal research stashed away on this computer, and there’s backups in the filing cabinet in the bedroom if something happens. I’ve gathered most of the ingredients for the ritual, and I’ve got all the steps written down.  Do it.  Go through with it.  And after that, well, don’t worry.  Trouble will find you.

“So why am I telling you this instead of you just remembering it? Well, I can’t go into any details beyond I learned something literally dangerous.  Just me having the knowledge in my head has the potential to make something very bad happen.  So I have to get rid of it.”

The recorded Evan stood up and pulled the cloth off the chair.  The chair was huge, made of dark wood, and clearly very heavy. The angle of the lens cut off the bottom of the legs, but Evan thought he could see angle brackets anchoring the bulky thing to the floor. There were straps, made of leather even more aged and ragged than the book’s cover, on the arms and legs of the chair. Attached to the top was a strange colander-shaped device studded with wires, lights, and glass tubes filled with several colors of liquid. Topping it off was what seemed to be the innards of a power drill, tipped with a strangely gleaming bit and angled to point straight down towards the top of the wearer’s head.

Evan suddenly felt a wave of nausea as the twice forces of confusion and understanding smashed into each other in his brain. He suddenly knew what he was about to witness. He realized why his head was so empty. He knew the path he’d set himself on and was, in a sort of giddy, manic way, excited about what he’d told himself. He knew everything he needed to know. But he couldn’t stop watching. He didn’t even realize he’d been squeezing Mr. Nex like a stress ball until his knuckles cracked from the force. He could hear himself on the recording: “blah blah combination of drugs and corrosive chemicals blah blah specially coated enchanted drill bit blah blah many calculations blah lots of expert help blah blah prevent regenerating brain tissue from retaining recent memories blah blah reset pattern of consciousness upon completion of healing process blah”, but Evan was focusing on very gently setting Mr. Nex out of his arm’s reach. If what he thought was coming was indeed coming, he was worried that he might accidentally pulp the stuffed giraffe between his fingers.

After setting his old friend well out of reach on the passenger’s seat, Evan sat back down in the kitchen just as his recorded self finished strapping himself to the awful machine. There was a small remote control clenched in the shaking fingers of his left hand, and his head had been fixed in place by several thick straps.  He locked eyes with the camera again.  

“I’ve been wondering if this counts as me actually dying, since this portion of my consciousness won’t be sustained.  I honestly haven’t come to an answer, but…” Decisively, he thumbed the button.  The drill began to whir.  Somewhere off-camera, something large and volatile crackled to life.  “Fortune favors the bold!” The vials on the helmet started to bubble and drain.  Already shaking slightly from the electric charge, Film-Evan reached out with his tongue and pulled a block of wood on a string between his teeth.  Evan watched his own eyes bulge and start to roll wildly. The drill had hit bone.  

Since his head was strapped in place and largely obscured by the helmet and bandages, there wasn’t much to watch.  The sound was the bad part.  The former Evan was screaming as the bit ground noisily through his skull, the gag doing little to muffle the sound.  The machinery, the screaming, the wet crunching of pulverizing bone—it all blended together into a nightmarish vomit of noise, and Evan realized he was screaming, too, a low, guttural scream, one of low volume and pitch but utterly panicked intensity.

 The background noise suddenly stopped and Evan found his scream lowering to a drawn-out groan. His digital counterpart had stopped screaming and the drill had gone silent; as he watched, the machine slowly withdrew the bit, dripping with blood and pink-gray pulp, from his own ruined skull. The other him groaned softly and spit out the gag, his eyes struggling to focus on the camera. Though blood was leaking from his mouth, he managed to grin. His lips trembling, he took a breath and slurred weakly:

“It’ll be worth it. We’re going to make a real difference. We’ll be a force to be reckoned with, I just know it. I believe in myself. I believe in you.”

He’d just taken another breath, perhaps to try to continue his inspiring farewell, but suddenly the lights on the helmet lit up and there was a soft sound of liquid sloshing. A split second of a sharp hissing was audible, then old-Evan shrieked as wisps of smoke began to rise from the top of this head. The scream was so sudden, so shrill, so agonized, and so ear-piercingly loud that it only lasted for a couple seconds before a hideous gurgling-tearing noise preceded the noise lowering to a hoarse wail.

Despite what he’d seen thus far, the scream took Evan by surprise. He involuntarily jerked backwards, the chair’s legs caught, and he toppled over backwards. Luckily, the corner of the kitchen counter was waiting to break his fall, and graciously did so with a tap to the back of the head. Pain surged from the impact, but was rapidly overtaken by surging, suffocating darkness.

Just before it all went black, Evan found himself thinking:

Well, I’ve had worse.