#like no joke i was trembling So badly that my legs were shaking. & practically Screaming as it all happened

[orcelito]

I'm just hungry. And tired. And sad. And stressed.

I'm not having a very good day.

[gatorsnot]

Tangleburr’s belly lurched painfully and her throat convulsed as she vomited into the ferns. She gasped, trying to get her breath back as she licked her lips free of the disgusting slime. The mouse she had eaten that morning had been so stale and foul that it hardly passed as fresh-kill, she doubted even a crow would’ve picked at it, and she was surprised it hadn’t sickened her sooner.

From behind, she heard her brother, Deerfoot, approach from where he waited among the roots of a tree. “Are you finished?” he asked.

Coughing, Tangleburr nodded.

“If you say so,” the brown and gray tom meowed. He rose to his paws and beckoned with his tail. “Come on, we’d better hurry up and finish marking the borders so we can have Runningnose check you out. If whatever you have is catching, we don’t want you spreading it to the rest of the Clan.”

Hauling herself to stand, Tangleburr fought the urge to lean on Deerfoot. She still felt queasy and a bit lightheaded, but she forced herself to keep her jaws clamped and her body upright. The only reason she ate that rotten mouse was because she had no choice -  Brokenstar had demanded that every cat focus all their energy on fighting and battle training, he deemed hunting a waste of time. “Every cat will be responsible for finding their own meals,” he had declared at a Clan meeting. “The only cats who shall gather food for for others will be queens for their kits until they are apprenticed, all other cats will fend for themselves.”

Yet again, no one had seen Brokenstar turning a paw to find anything for himself. Many had suspected he crept off alone to catch personal fresh prey while the rest of ShadowClan scavenged for crowfood or the remains of carcasses. Sorry flea-bitten pile of fox dung.

Deerfoot seemed to have read his sister’s thoughts. He let out a snort as a frog hopped out from the water as the two cats stalked along the edge of a pond. “Live prey seem to mock us now,” he hissed. “You bet your pelt that I’d catch that frog and swallow it whole if I knew no one would smell blood on my breath when we got back to camp. Crowfood tastes worse than I ever imagined it to.”

Tangleburr’s stomach gurgled nauseatingly. The mere thought of eating made her feel sick again. “Yeah,” she croaked out.

“You know what?” Deerfoot whispered. As the frog bobbed a little further away, he dropped into a hunting crouch. Slowly, he crept forward, silent as a snake with his eyes fixed on his anticipated prize. Tangleburr watched as Deerfoot eased himself into a perfect position, found a perfect range to pounce, and then he practically soared through the air and snatched the amphibian in his claws.

“GET OFF OF ME!”

An ear-splitting yowl startled Deerfoot so badly that he reared up in terror. The frog bounded back to the pond and disappeared under the rippling surface of the boggy water.

“Get moving, you waste of fur! How dare you disobey my orders, I’ll teach you to undermine me!”

Just as Deerfoot and Tangleburr were about to charge in the direction of the voices, the large shape of a dark brown tabby burst from the reeds, a slightly smaller and thinner light brown tabby in his teeth. It was Brokenstar and Lizardstripe! The aging she-cat struggled in the ShadowClan leader’s hold, the only thing that prompted him to release was when Lizardstripe struck him in his right ear with her claws. She tumbled away, but was back on her paws in an instant, back arched and growling.

“Lizardstripe!” Deerfoot rushed to his mother’s side, but Brokenstar thrust his muzzle into his face. “Back off!” Deerfoot spat. “What in StarClan’s name are you doing to our mother?”

Brokenstar looked twice his normal sized with his fur all flared out and his muscles hunched, large and intimidating. “Don’t you dare speak to me in that tone, warrior!” he screeched. “I am your leader, move aside and stay out of this, or your throat will be the one I tear out next!”

“No!” Deerfoot snapped. 

“You miserable kit of a rogue,” Lizardstripe snarled. Despite looking rather shaken and her state of malnutrition, her amber eyes glittered fiercely at Brokenstar, her tail lashing. “You have no right to be called the leader of ShadowClan, or any Clan. StarClan’s kits, I doubt even a band of rogues would accept you!”

Brokenstar lunged to knock the old cat aside, claws unsheathed, but Tangleburr tackled him. “Stop this!” she yowled. 

The ShadowClan leader tossed his assailant off with a shake. “I hate all of you!” he screamed. “First, this withered old elder thought she could humiliate me in front of my deputy and warriors when I ordered her to clear out my den and replace my nest, then she had the nerve to call me lazy in front of the entire Clan when she caused a scene! I am not an apprentice to be ordered around and degraded, I am your leader and it is the word of the warrior code that you listen to me and do as I say!” Spittle bubbled at Brokenstar’s lips as he advanced on Lizardstripe once again. He looked so deranged, so wild as he growled and spat and lashed his bent tail. “I think you’ve forgotten that I am not a meek little kit for you to mistreat anymore, old cat!”

“What nonsense are you spitting now?” Deerfoot challenged. He stood defiantly in front of Lizardstripe, his claws outstretched in case Brokenstar tried to leap at her again. “It’s not our fault you were a troublesome furball as a kit, it’s not like you had actual parents to keep you in line!”

With a furious yowl, Brokenstar swiped his claws across Deerfoot’s muzzle, drawing blood as the tom went down. “Says the cat who was at least privileged with acknowledgement and suckling rights, while I was always the one who was pushed away and harassed!”

 Tangleburr’s hackles raised as she joined Deerfoot’s side, helping him up while also acting as a barrier between the enraged ShadowClan leader and their mother. “Why are you digging up things that are long forgotten by now?” she hissed. 

“Long forgotten-” Brokenstar briefly broke off into incredulous laughter, which unnerved the three battered cats before him. “What a joke, for such things to be ‘long forgotten’!” He used the entirety of his body weight to push Tangleburr into Deerfoot, and the two warriors crashed backward into Lizardstripe, leaving them all in a scrambling heap. As Brokenstar snarled ferociously and stood over them, Tangleburr realized that he was indeed right; he was no longer the small, motherless, seemingly out-of-place kit no cat had stepped forward to claim. He was the son of Raggedstar, but no cat was sure who his birth mother had been. There had been speculation and talk, and all the gossip and assumption had made him an easy target for aggression among his adoptive family, who Tangleburr remembered resenting him relentlessly - herself included.

Lizardstripe struggled to her paws. Her flanks heaved, her ribs were beginning to show after a moon or so of not eating properly and the access work she was expected to do despite age rapidly catching up with her. “You were nothing but another tick on my tail,” she snapped. “About as tolerable as a thorn in my eye or a ripped claw. It wasn’t my fault that Mudclaw wanted kits while I didn’t, and then here comes Raggedstar and Yellowfang moseying right along into the nursery with an extra mouth for me to feed when I barely had enough milk for the three I was already stuck with. At least my actual kits had potential and listened to me, while you were defiant and full of yourself from the start, making things harder than they had to be for everyone!”

Brokenstar leaped clean over Tangleburr and Deerfoot, tackling Lizardstripe and the two tabbies became a yowling storm of teeth and claws. Screeching, Deerfoot flung himself onto Brokenstar’s back and tried to get a hold of his neck, but the larger tom flipped over and crushed him against the ground. Tangleburr went for his belly, but Brokenstar slashed her across the face and then tore into her hind leg, teeth biting down to the bone. “Not so easy to pick on now, am I?!” 

Tangleburr caterwauled and struggled and scratched, she could see Deerfoot struggled to stand and Lizardstripe was a trembling heap on the ground, fighting for breath as a deep gash in her shoulder wept scarlet. A sunburst of blood spattered as Brokenstar clenched his jaws tighter around her leg, the pain was absolutely unbearable as Tangleburr fought desperately to escape his vicious grip. Finally, Brokenstar lifted her up by her thrashed leg and slammed her into Deerfoot, and both warriors could only lay together on the muddy ground, their chests heaving for air.

Breathless with fury, Brokenstar turned sharply to Lizardstripe, who was crouching and blinking fearfully up at him. “As for you,” he growled. “Either get out of ShadowClan land and never return or I kill you and your precious kits that are so full of potential. That’s as merciful as I’ll be with any of you sorry furballs; either way, I’m done with you and I won’t ever have to look at your retched hide again.”

“But-” Lizardstripe began.

“Are you choosing death?” Brokenstar cut her off.

“Listen to him, mother,”  Tangleburr gasped out at last, her voice hitching as jolts of agony shot through her like lightning. The shooting pain in her leg was so intense she could barely force herself to speak at all, but she wasn’t just going to lay there and let this entitled barbarian slaughter Lizardstripe in front of them over a lousy nest and the pain of the past. “Deerfoot, Runningnose, and I will be just fine on our own. Save yourself and run, he’s not worth it!”

Lizardstripe looked wide-eyed at her daughter. She was still shaking and hyperventilating, obviously still reeling from the terrifying confrontation, but she swallowed hard and glared and Brokenstar, a growl replacing her breathless horror. “ShadowClan isn’t the same ShadowClan I grew up in with you leading it,” she snarled. “I’d rather be a kittypet than endure another day of eating filth so disgusting that a dog wouldn’t think of touching it and letting your brainwashed cats sharpen their claws on me for the sake of battles that haven’t come yet.”

Brokenstar snorted and growled.

“Away I go.” The old light brown tabby shakily rose to her paws, limped a ways into the trees before stopping and gazing at the kits she raised on last time before disappearing into the fog.

Brokenstar merely watched her go, a cruel mew of satisfaction escaped him. “She’ll make a fine meal for the rats in Carrionplace,” he declared. “That is, if a fox doesn’t make pickings of her first.”

Just then, Clawface and Blackfoot exploded into the clearing just as Lizardstripe was out of sight. “Brokenstar,” they meowed in unison.

Brokenstar turned to face his confidants. “Just dealt with an unsavory intruder lurking in the mist, that’s all. I drove her away.” Harshly, he grabbed Deerfoot by the scruff of his neck and tossed him at Blackfoot’s paws. “Not that this useless excuse for a warrior helped. Take him to the training area and let the apprentices and younger warriors practice their ambushing skills on him; it might even motivate him to be more productive and loyal in the future.”

“Yes, Brokenstar. Come now, Deerfoot, up on your paws! You heard the leader.” Blackfoot nipped Deerfoot until he rose up and, shooting a snarl and a glare back at Brokenstar, allowed himself to be herded away by the larger tom.

Clawface stepped forward. “Tangleburr is hurt,” he observed. “Shall I fetch Runningnose?”

Tangleburr’s breath caught in her throat ad Brokenstar studied the damaged he’d caused to her leg. “Yes,” he concluded at last. “She is to be healed as quickly as possible, you see. I have arranged for her to mate with Stumpytail and bear his kits so ShadowClan shall have new warriors in the coming moons. We’re going to need them for the battle with WindClan I have planned.”

                                                               ~~~

i’ve really, REALLY wanted to do a piece featuring brokenstar and his abusive adoptive family, and i’ve had this in my files for awhile! but i’ve been sick with a sinus infection for the past couple of days, so forgive me if this feels rushed or uneven ;~;

also NO: i am NOT trying to paint brokenstar in a positive light; he was a terrible cat who did terrible things, and i do not personally see his shitty childhood as an excuse to justify his behavior as an adult or make it okay that he did all those things. a confrontation scene between him and at least lizardstripe would’ve been very interesting to see in-canon, and this is just a take on that.

and yes, lizardstripe basically called him a son of a bitch

[pumpkin-spice-whump-latte]

Magically Disguised Whumpee Continued

So a few days ago I was inspired by this lovely prompt by @make-it-whumpier

A whumpee is disguised to look like the enemy, whether it’s through magic, technology, or something else, they look and sound exactly like the enemy of their team. Their team quickly captures them and despite the whumpees pleas for the team to believe them, the team thinks it’s some kind of trick. The whumpee never knew their team could be so ruthless when it came to getting information until the first torture session started.

I wrote a little something for that and you can find it [here].

This is the continuation for that.

contents include: team dynamics, found family stuff, generic leader and generic whumpee, betrayal, COMFORT, nightmares, managing to insult the Villain’s and the Leader’s banter at the same time,

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

“Hey, are–uh. How you feeling this morning?” Leader decided they had to try and say something, anything, even if the sound of their voice still made the younger hero flinch. Nervous, blood-shot eyes only met Leader’s for a moment before finding refuge again in the pancakes. Piled three high and covered in syrup. Just like Whumpee liked it. Just like nothing had happened.

They hadn’t been touched yet. A fork was picked up and bites were idly moved around the plate without actually making any attempt to eat them. Their only answer was a subdued shrug.

Leader couldn’t stand it. Whumpee’s face was still bruised from where Leader’s knuckles mercilessly pummeled into it, asking over and over for information they literally hadn’t possessed. The marks left purple and yellow banners all over Whumpee’s cheek and jaw, flags that seemed to stake territory Leader had never wanted to claim. The red, swollen line of a split lip and a gash near Whumpee’s temple hadn’t even begun to heal yet, and they wouldn’t be able to use their left hand for a few weeks. Not with the fingers still splinted. Needless to say they were out of commission for hero work for the time being, but it wasn’t like this was the first time they’d taken a sound beating.

This was just the first time that beating had ever come from their Leader’s own two hands.

Leader sighed and then took a seat at the kitchen table, scooting as close to their team member as they dared. (That was actually pretty close, since Leader made a living out of taking dares--Close enough to reach out a gentle hand and lay it on a thin shoulder.) They felt it tremble slightly under their touch and their stomach rolled in shame. Couldn’t win ‘em all.

“Listen–I’m… I’m sorry. I know I said it before but I gotta say it again. And I’ll keep saying it till you believe me–”

Whumpee’s fork smacked down onto the table by their plate, making everything rattle. “It’s NOT THAT–” Their voice rose for a moment before they stiffened and took a deep breath. Let it out again. “It’s not that I don’t believe you. I… I know you. I know you’d never hurt me on purpose. I know that whatever the enemy did, it disguised me so well that even you couldn’t see through it till the effects had worn off. You thought I was... one of THEM.” If there was bitterness in their voice for a moment, they couldn’t help it. “But I just… It’s like my brain knows but the rest of me doesn’t. And… And I HATE it!”

They smacked the table again, this time with their fist (the only hand they could still make a fist with) and tore away from the table. Stalking over to the fridge and giving it a swift kick with one booted foot.

“I HATE feeling this WEAK around you! I hate feeling this SCARED around you! I’ve never felt this scared around anyone in my entire LIFE. I hate–” They cut themselves off and gave the fridge another kick before storming out of the kitchen all together.

Leader sat at their spot at the table still, looking dumbly from the fridge to the uneaten pancakes, to the place where Whumpee had been. They sat in a stunned trance until he heard the door to Whumpee’s room slam shut.

Whumpee was scared of him… But didn’t want to be. The thought hurt just as badly as Whumpee’s silence had, but along with the pain and the guilt now came the spark of an… idea. That idea gradually coalesced into something firm and real; a decision. Maybe a bit of a risky one but... Leader wanted Whumpee feel safe around him. To trust him. 

And Leader made a living out of taking dares.

__________

With a ragged shriek Whumpee threw the covers off their bed, followed by their kicking legs and flailing arms, till all of them lay crumpled in a shivering heap on the floor. Their heart still raced from the nightmare they’d just clawed their way out of, beating so hard in their chest they could feel it against their skin. They pressed a hand over it. The fingers were shaking. The arm was shaking. No matter what they did they couldn’t unstick the image of–

“Whumpee?” Leader was standing in the open door to their bedroom, figure carving out a solid block against the yellowish hallway light. They were so tall. Imposing. Impressive.

Whumpee scrambled off the floor because from that angle Leader looked like something else entirely.

“M'fine.” They turned away, facing the bed and mumbling. They really didn’t want to deal with this right now.

But then Leader was right behind them. There was a hand on their shoulder and–

“Stop!” Whumpee practically sobbed the word out and wrenched away, taking a couple wandering, clumsy steps till the bed knocked into their knees. They sat down on it hard and then just crumpled into themselves. “I’m sorry… I’m s-sorry I know y-you’re safe b-but I–” They bowed their head down to their knees as the tears came, streaming down their face with hitching breaths and sharp, painful coughs as they tried and failed to hold it in. Whumpee couldn’t hold it in anymore. They couldn’t hold it together. Their entire world had been tipped upside down and the one person in the world they really trusted had spent hours making sure they screamed louder than the sound of their bones breaking.

They didn’t feel “betrayed”, that didn’t seem like the right word. They felt like they were walking around with no ground underneath them. Like nothing made sense anymore and nobody--nobody--could be really trusted.

They felt lost.

It was even worse to know that Leader felt bad about it. It was even worse to know the fear they couldn’t control was just creating more and more pain.

When they felt Leader’s arms wrap around them they tried to push away again, good hand and forearm of the bad one against shoulders that were much stronger. But gentle hands held him fast. Secure. Not tight like iron, but warm and soft like a blanket tucked around them just right.

They keened louder against Leader’s chest, some kind of wall seeming to break when they weren’t being allowed to run away anymore. Crying out their misery and their shame at not being able to trust again and, deep deep down, their bitter, broiling anger.

“HoW C-COULD Y-Y-YOU IT WAS ME GODDAMMIT IT WAS ME!! THE WHOLE TIME! I P-P-hnnn--I begged you. I nEVER BEG. And you looked m-me RIGHT IN THE FACE and HURT ME ANYWAY I HATE YOU.”

The last couple words rang out loud enough for the whole base to hear. Loud enough to crack across the dark room like a slap to the face. Leader flinched around Whumpee’s sobbing, broken form, but took it. Leader knew they deserved it and just…

Took it.

Kept Whumpee tucked in tight in their arms, hands carding soft, whispering paths through their hair. Murmured next to their ear that it was okay, it was alright to hate them, it was alright to be scared. “I’m not gonna leave you though. I’m not gonna hurt you so bad like that and leave you to deal with it all alone. I’m here and I can take whatever you dish out. It doesn’t change–”

Leader’s soft words were interrupted by Whumpee’s fist against their chest. Using one fist to try and fit every molecule of hurt, wounded rage in their body and pound it all against the solid (safe) mass that held them, until they finally went limp. Exhausted, hollowed out. Tears dried up.

That’s when Leader took Whumpee’s face in their hands. Tilted Whumpee’s chin up–so careful of the bruise there–and touched their foreheads together. Whumpee closed their eyes when that face came close and that nose bumped against their own. 

“It doesn’t change the fact that you’re part of this team. You’re part of this family. And your home is still right here. Even if it takes a while for the monkey in the back of your brain to realize it.”

Whumpee gave a couple tired snuffles, their hands soft in their lap, their entire weight leaning forward into Leader’s hands. They didn’t fight anymore. They understood, and it was as if the floor reappeared underneath them. The world turned itself back up off it’s head and the room didn’t seem so full of dark, alien shadows.

Whumpee was home. They realized that with a sigh of surrender, while Leader ran thumbs over their bruises and soothed reassurances over their heart.

“I promise I’ll never hurt you that way again. Never ever. Neeeever gonna hurt you again, buddy.”

Their head had already known this but now, sitting there wrapped up in Leader’s arms, their heart finally had the proof it had been screaming for. No matter how Whumpee felt they knew Leader would be there to help them through it.

“I AM going to hurt Villain though. Gonna kick their ass.” Leader mumbled against Whumpee’s hair, eliciting a wheezing laugh from inside the protective circle of their arms. “Oh no, you think I’m joking? No amount of witty banter is gonna save them this time.”

“…Since when was your banter ever witty…?”

“I WILL demote you. Watch me.”

“Oooh. I’m shaking.” 

They weren’t, though.

[shewhowantsmouseears]

WebLouie MonsterMash AU

so I’m a big WebLena fan, but I’ve been doin’ a Rp thread with a pal and apparently in that one thread I can ship WebLouie (It helps that Lena does not exist in that world XD) I wrote a thing for my pal based on what we’ve been doing, so I figured I might as well share it here.

(just remembered the date and this isn’t a prank/joke anything just fyi)

Basically - AU where Webby is a mermaid, Louie finds her and tricks her into trading her expensive scales for “human treasure” (junk he finds) until guilt, feelings, etc. 

as for this storybit, we have a reverse little mermaid scenario going on, with Magica as the Ursula role, and...

It was like being in one of those lame fake haunted houses at one of those cheap amusement parks Donald used to take the triplets when he couldn't afford a real vacation – where the paintings were designed that no matter where you were, you could feel their eyes on your. It was kind of the same – only much, much scarier.

Though the woman was two-dimensional and little more than a shadow on the wall, Louie felt eyes all around him, all over him, as if he was being swallowed whole. He kept his hands in the pocket of his hoodie, hoping to hide his trembling. He didn't know why he was reacting this way – the sorceresses was a shadow and nothing more, she couldn't harm a feather on his head. Yet. Yet. There was this feeling of being dipped into subzero water, and even though his brain was screaming at his legs to run, they remained motionless.

“You must be nuts.” He finally said, sounding more confident than he truly felt. “I mean, have you looked in a mirror lately? You might as well have 'I'M A VILLAIN' tattooed on your forehead. I wasn't hatched yesterday, lady.”

“That's Magica De Spell to you, boy.” The ancient one sneered before pausing and remembering what she was trying to do in the first place. “A-hem... you're a businessman in the making, child, I know that for a fact. You know the ins and outs of deals, and the sort of deal I'm offering you is one you can't miss out on. I can give you your heart's desire, all for one coin.”

“Pass.” The cliches in her villain seduction actually did some good, as it pointed out how ridiculous this all was. With strengthened fortitude, he stuck his beak up, and began to walk away, feeling much better. “I'm not going to hand over Uncle Scrooge's most prized possession for some gold and jewels. I can get those on any adventure. Sure, it'd be nice to do it without risking my tailfeathers, but that's why I have brothers – as meat shields.”

He expected Magica to rant and rave about being denied, some “you'll rue the day” tossed in there, but when she spoke again, her voice was far too calm. “Whoever said I'd give you something shiny to toss in the money bin? Child... I can give you the girl.”

Louie froze. He felt his heart stop, his foot pointed up as he had stopped mid-step. Some sensible part of him said to keep moving and ignore her, but instead, he stupidly tried to play it off. “What girl?”

“Don't play dumb with me, boy, you know exactly what I'm talking about.” Suddenly she was right in his face – Louie yelped, stumbling backwards – wearing a thin smile. “You think I didn't come to you without research? I know all about the bubbly little mermaid that waits for you in the bay, day after day, as you trade trinkets for treasure. It's so sweet... in a disgustingly sappy sort of way.”

Now Louie felt his heart move again, except now it was beating so rapidly he thought it'd explode right out of his chest. He considered himself a master of manipulation, a trickster of truths, but in this moment he couldn't think of any way to spin this. “She's... she's just a friend. She's got nothing to do with this.” Run, run, run his brain pounded. But he didn't.

“On the contrary – she's got everything to do with you and I. Adorable creature, isn't she? If you're into that sort of thing. The way she dotes on your every word, willing to swallow whatever fabrications you invent, even mutilating her own body just to have your favor.”

“She's not mutil-” He cut himself off. This was a trap, and he was being lured in. It took solid effort to turn his head away, and his mouth felt dry. “Okay, so... so maybe I haven't exactly been the best friend to her. B-But I'm trying to change, and she knows it!”

“How noble.” Magica said dryly before continuing. “But is that going to be enough for you? The way things are can't last forever. Everything is against you.”

He knew better than to ask. He was smarter than this. He was also a young boy. “What... do you mean?” His eyes carefully slid back to the shadowy form.

“Where to begin?” Magica sighed, moving around him in a circle. “You know her dear devoted Granny hates your kind. The moment she finds out what's been going on,” she snapped her fingers, “goodbye girl. Then you have the family... oh, they'll adore your fishy friend, they'll be happy as clams to meet her. And she'll be delighted to meet them – because they're so much more interesting than you.”

Louie's fingers curled up in his pocket. He tried to come up with some witty retort or snappy comeback and couldn't.

“Scrooge McDuck, world's richest man. Donald, the brave adventurer. Huey, the brilliant scholar. Dewey, the hapless explorer. And then there's... you.” She feigned a sigh, pressing her hands together, before gesturing to him. “Louie, who can... do what? Con an innocent fish-girl out of her scales? Lie his way out of trouble he got himself into? Who spends his weekends snoozing on the couch watching bad TV? Oh, Louie, Louie, Louie... you're just so... dull.”

“Shut up.” It was weak and pathetic.

“Do you really think she'll want anything to do with you, once she's spent time with the amazing Duck family? You'll be yesterday's news.”

“Shut up...”

“She's all yours now, but she'll leave you for something better, just like good old mommy did-”

“I KNOW, OKAY?!” He suddenly screamed at her, feeling humiliating hot tears prick at the edges of his eyes. “You think I don't?! I think about this all the time! I know they're all cooler and smarter and braver than I am! I've got nothing, and she doesn't care! She's the only person who's ever just wanted me! She – she wants to listen to me, and wants to help me, even though I don't deserve any of it! She likes me, and I can't...” his voice broke, and in that moment he wanted nothing more than to find Uncle Donald and cry into his chest. This wasn't fair, none of this was fair. He just wanted to keep her as his own special secret, and that couldn't last forever. He wanted to have something he didn't have to share with his brothers, as he'd done all his life. “I can't... lose her...”

He took a few deep, shallow breaths, and then he felt ice under his face – Magica's fingers were underneath his beak, and she tilted his head up. “Oh, you poor thing... but don't you fret.” she cooed, as if she hadn't helped stick the knife into his chest. “Because I can make her yours... forever.”

Louie's eyes widened. There was the bait, and he'd all but jumped into it. He could practically feel her pulling his strings like a ill-painted marionette. “You...can?”

“Of course!” She released the hold on his beak, plastering herself against the wall. “Once my powers are restored, there is no limit to what I can do. For that one dime, I can make sure you two live happily ever after.” She reached into the ground, yanking up Louie's shadow – side note, he didn't know how she did that, and decided he didn't want to know – before creating a Webby shadow, tail-and all. “All you have to do is give me what I want, and I can make it so she only has eyes for you.”

The shadows of Louie and Webby smiled as if all were right with the world, laughing silently as they embraced, him swinging her around as she wrapped her arms around his neck. The real Louie clutched his chest. This was wrong.

“She'll be yours and yours alone.” Magica was beside him now, her cold touch on his cheeks, whispering to his ear. “No one will ever tear you two apart.”

As the shadowy version of his longing played out, memories flashed in front of Louie's eyes like a beautifully cut viral video. The first time he met her, her curious head popping out of the water and trying to snatch one of his feathers. Her little mouth opening in awe as he handed over one of his great “treasures”, which was really a plastic fork. Her deep eyes that sparkled whenever the sun began to rest on the shore.

No no no stop stop stop

“The... the dime is... Uncle Scrooge's... it's his memories.” Louie felt his entire body shake as he spoke.

Louie laying down in the sand and Webby running her webbed fingers through his head feathers, the ticklefights that had no clear winner, how she was somehow warm and cold when she rested against him as they watched movies on his phone.

No no no no no no i'm better than this I have to be better than this

“Memories are for the past, boy. What about your future?”

And then came a memory that wasn't a memory, it was a longing, so deep and powerful that it stopped his breath, as he saw her perfectly clear in front of him, wearing that sweet smile that rarely left her face, and he just – and he just – he wanted so badly – her hand gently taking his own, leaning in – stop stop no no – lips pressed -

“NO!” He shouted so loudly he felt his lungs strain, and at last he finally did run, in the opposite direction from the forbidden images, running so fast that the world around him became a blur, and he was determined to keep running until he was safe in the manor again no matter how much his legs ached.

Magica clicked her tongue, annoyed. But she wasn't wholly disappointed, no. This wouldn't be the last time they'd meet, and she'd seen the look in his eyes. She had planted a seed... and now all she had to do was wait for it to grow.

Because she knew – as Louie refused to tell any of his family where he'd been, instead scrambling to his room, falling to his knees as his body gave out, he pulled his hoodie over his head, rocking back and forth – because he knew -

“Hi, I'm Webby!”

“I'm really glad I met you, Louie.”

“Why can't you believe it? We're friends. I'd do anything for you.”

He had considered.

[sethmurfie-blog]

SHOWDOWN - [Feb. 14, 2:14 a.m.]

I WAS RUNNING. IT WAS STILL THE THIRTEENTH AND NEARING MIDNIGHT, AND I DON'T KNOW WHERE CALEB WOULD'VE GONE BUT THE FIRST THING I'D CHECK WOULD BE OUR HOME. AS I DASH PASSED THE ICE-COVERED HILL AND SEE FOOTSTEPS THAT MUST'VE BEEN THERE EARLIER TONIGHT, I SPRINT AND SPRINT UNTIL I'M PANTING AND STORMING THROUGH THE NEIGHBORHOOD, COMING CLOSE TO OUR HOUSEHOLD. MY FISTS WERE CLENCHED BY MY SIDE.

“YOU CAN ONLY LAUGH HORRIBLY AT PEOPLE’S PLIGHTS IF YOU’VE NEVER EVEN YOURSELF FELT THE TERRIBLE PAIN,” I MUTTERED IN A FETID RAGE.

BUT THEN I SUDDENLY STOPPED WHEN I SAW SOME KIND OF LAMP, SHINING, UP ON OUR ROOF. “HEY, WAIT. PLEASE, SOMEONE, ELABORATE ON THAT PETULANT LIGHT BREAKING OUT THROUGH OUR HORRENDOUS WINDOW PANE.”

AND I SAW PORRIDGE. THE PORRIDGE I KNOW. SHE WAS SITTING, ON THE ROOF, WITH HER ONE GLOVED HAND COVERING UP HER FACE, AND THE COINS REFLECTING LAMPLIGHT PERFECTLY. “Oh...” SHE SAID, “me.” SHE MUTTERED IT ENTIRELY TO HERSELF. SHE LOOKED EXHAUSTED.

“I THINK IT’S CLEAR THAT THE TIME HAS COME WHEN SHE HAS NOW JUST SPOKEN,” I FOUND MYSELF SAYING, EVEN THOUGH I DON’T KNOW WHY, AND NOT VERY LOUDLY.

PORRIDGE STILL COULDN’T HEAR ME. “Oh...” SHE SIGHED. THEN SHE SAID SOMETHING: “Seth.”

I JERKED UPRIGHT. HAD SHE JUST SAID MY NAME?

“Why are...” HER VOICE WAS IN AN UNDERBELLIED CROAK AND NOT EVEN AUDIBLE NOW. SHE SAID SOMETHING I COULDN’T QUITE HEAR AT FIRST, BUT THEN SHE SAID IT AGAIN. “Why are you Seth,” SHE SAID VERY LOWLY AND VERY SLOWLY.

“ALRIGHT SHOULD I CONTINUE TO LISTEN OR IS IT TIME THAT I CAME IN AND MADE MY FATAL APPEARANCE,” I ASKED WITH A LARGE FLOURISH OF PRACTICAL-JOKE CANS.

AS THE SILLY SNAKES SPRANG FROM THE FAUX PEANUT CONTAINERS ON MY HIP, PORRIDGE JERKED UPRIGHT. I HAD ESSENTIALLY SAID WHAT I’D SAID IN AN OPERATIC BELT, WHICH IS DIFFICULT TO NOT INTER.

“Seth?” SHE SAID, AWARE OF ME FOR THE VERY FIRST TIME. “What are you doing down there?”

“WHY DON’T YOU TELL ME WHAT IT IS YOU’RE DOING UP THERE.”

"Um—" SHE LOOKED DOWN. "Caleb. Told me to meet him here—"

"ALRIGHT REALLY THAT'S WONDERFUL, GREAT, GOOD NEWS IN FACT WHY DON'T WE SUBSCRIBE TO CNN AND MAKE IT INTO A WORLD- MURFIE-WIDE-NEWS FLASH."

SHE STARED. THEN, SHE SLOWLY, WITH SHAKING LEGS, STOOD, UP ON THE ROOF. CALEB HAD STRUNG THE MULTI-COLORED CHRISTMAS LIGHTS FROM THAT TERRIBLE PARTY ALONG THE GUTTER AND THE EAVES, SO THOSE LIGHTS SHINED OFF OF HER TOO. "Seth," SAID PORRIDGE. "I'm—I'm sorry—"

"WHY DID YOU EVEN COME HERE?" I SAID. I WAS FACING AWAY FROM HER, ARMS SLACK AT MY SIDES. "THIS WAS A QUESTION YOU NEVER EVEN BOTHERED TO ANSWER, REALLY."

PORRIDGE, HOLDING HER RIGHT HAND IN FRONT OF HER FACE AND HER GLOVE TREMBLING AS SHE GAZED. THEN SHE SAID, "Well, I-I don't know. It's..."

"HOW DID YOU EVEN ARRANGE TO TRAVEL HERE THEN, WITH CART AND HORSE?"

"No," SHE SAID. "Actually," SHE ADDED, OBVIOUSLY HOPEFUL FOR A CHANGE IN TOPIC, "I used this app to get my luggage over here ahead of time. I had put my old mask on the suitcase so it would be marked from the others. I'd love to meet the person who developed that app, it was great—"

"ALRIGHT, THAT'S ENOUGH" I SAID. CALEB. THE FABRIC AT THE DETROIT AIRPORT. OF FUCKING COURSE.

PORRIDGE HESITATED. "Seth—?"

"WHATEVER, FORGET IT!" I LOOKED UP AT HER, ON THE SECOND-STORY ROOF OF MY HOME. I WONDER HOW SHE GOT UP THERE ANYHOW. CALEB WOULD ALWAYS GET DOWN OFF THE ROOF BY WAY OF LEAPING ONTO THE HOOD OF HIS CAR, BUT THAT WAS PARKED IN THE GARAGE NOW. AND—

"hey, buddy!" 

I LOOKED UP.

"wanna give us a little privacy?" SAID CALEB, WHO WAS STRIDING OVER, COATTAILS FLOWING BEHIND HIM ANGRILY.

"Wait, Caleb—" STARTED PORRIDGE, BUT I CUT IN.

"CALEB IS THERE ANY REASON THAT YOU NEED TO BE SO FUCKING POSSESIVE ALL THE TIME?" UNRECOGNIZABLE. FINE. IF I WAS, HE WAS TOO.

"alright buddy, you know what?" CALEB CAME FORWARD, NEARLY PUSHING ME. "you need to know the truth, okay? porridge has chosen me. don't disrespect the king."

"I—I didn't—"

"CALEB IT DOESN'T LOOK LIKE PORRIDGE HAS REALLY CHOSEN ANYBODY."

"That's not true," SHE SAID, THE BAGS UNDER HER EYES LOOKING HEAVIER THAN EVER BEFORE.

"WHAT—?" BUT SUDDENLY CALEB TOOK THE BOTTLE, THE BOTTLE, OUT FROM HIS COAT AND FLUNG IT UP AND IN THE AIR. "sever your fucking ties."

"FUCK, CALEB, NO!"

"Whoa whoa whoa!" SHOUTED PORRIDGE.

"CALEB WHAT THE—"

"Here—" SAID PORRIDGE AND SUDDENLY HER FEET SKIDDED DOWN THE ROOF AS SHE PUSHED HERSELF FORWARD TO REACH OUT AND JUST BARELY SNATCH THE BOTTLE BEFORE IT COULD SHATTER ONTO THE GROUND—BUT, AT THE SAME TIME, PORRIDGE'S RIGHT SHOE LOST FOOTING AND SHE SUDDENLY FOUND HER LEGS DANGLING FROM THE GUTTER; SHE GASPED.

"PORRIDGE!!" "porridge!!"

"Fuck," SHE MANAGED, AND SHE WAS HANGING ON BY THAT ONE GLOVED HAND, THE OTHER HAND SWINGING AND STILL CLUTCHING AT THE INIMITABLE BOTTLE.

"OH GODDAMMIT CALEB." THE DROP WAS ENOUGH THAT YEAH SHE WOULDN'T FUCKING DIE BUT SHE WOULND'T NOT GET BADLY FUCKING DAMAGED EITHER. "PORRIDGE HERE" AND I HELD MY ARMS OUT.

"alright stop you're gonna fuck it up" AND CALEB PUSHED ME OUT OF THE WAY AND HELD HIS ARMS OUT. "alright porridge drop the bottle!"

"Wait, if I can just—"

"DROP IT!" I SHOUTED.

SHE DROPPED IT, AND CALEB CAUGHT THE BOTTLE THEN SET IT ONTO THE GROUND, BEFORE HE SAID "okay porridge", SPREADING HIS ARMS AGAIN BUT SHAKING WILDLY. "fuck" HE MUTTERED, SUDDENLY USURPING HIS CATCH-POSE TO RUN A SHAKING HAND OVER HIS HAIRLINE, HIS BACK HUNCHED OVER. "t-too much coke."

"CALEB YOU NEED HELP" I TOLD HIM.

"f-fuck you!" HE SCREAMED, REELING BACK.

"Uh, guys—" PORRIDGE WAS STARTING TO SLIP.

"CALEB YOU HAVE TO GET AHOLD OF YOURSELF, ALRIGHT? PORRIDGE IS GONNA FALL—"

"i'm fine! and i'll catch her" SAID CALEB. HE HELD HIS ARMS OUT.

"CALEB JUST LET ME FUCKING HELP—"

"you're not going to help."

"Guys," SAID PORRIDGE, "I-I'm, ohhh fuck—"

"CALEB—"

"seth—"

"IF YOU WOULD'VE JUST LOOKED AT THE BOTTLE THEN MAYBE YOU WOULD'VE—"

"enough about the fucking bottle!!" CALEB HOWLED. "it's just a bottle, dude, okay?! curses aren't real, the fucking ‘eenie gang’ isn’t real, none of that's shit's real, alright? you're living in a delusion and you have been since you were little, seth, and maybe it's me and mom's fault, fine, but—"

"I-I'm gonna fall—"

"CALEB—"

"and porridge is going to be with me, not you, not anyone, not some strange man coming into our home and into our mom's bedroom and who doesn't even pay respect to the grave for my dog—"

"CALEB SHE'S—"

"and—”

AND SHE FELL.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

CLUNK.

IT WAS THE SOUND OF HER FALLING AS SHE GASPED AND WAS CAUGHT TIGHTLY IN THE GRASP OF CALEB'S ARMS. AS WELL AS MY ARMS. THEY WERE BOTH AROUND HER WAIST. I'M NOT TOTALLY SURE EITHER OF US COULD'VE PROPERLY DONE IT ALONE. AND I NEARLY SHRIEKED, BECAUSE FOR AN AWFUL SECOND I THOUGHT SHE HAD LOST HER LEFT HAND BECAUSE I SAW THAT THE COIN-TIPPED GLOVE WAS STILL HANGING ONTO THE ROOF'S EDGE. BUT SUDDENLY I FELT CALEB SHIFT. AND I FELT HIM SUDDENLY DROP HIS ARMS AND LOOK AT SOMETHING, SOMETHING IN FRONT OF HIM. HIS BREATHING SLOWED. HIS AVIATORS POINTED AT PORRIDGE'S LEFT HAND, WHICH SHE WAS HOLDING UP TO HER FACE AND RUBBING GINGERLY. HER HEAD WAS DOWN, STARING AT THE BOTTLE'S TEXT, AND I SAW THAT THERE WAS SOME KIND OF METAL CIRCLE AROUND ONE OF HER FINGERS? YOU KNOW, THE FINGER BETWEEN THE MIDDLE AND THE PINKIE, I FORGET WHAT THAT ONE'S CALLED EXACTLY—BUT THAT THE METAL CIRCLE AROUND THAT FINGER HAD LIKE A JEWEL IN IT. HUH.

WE STOOD THERE FOR AWHILE. WHAT WAS THIS? WHAT EXACTLY WAS THE BIG DEAL ABOUT A METAL CIRCLE AND A JEWEL? I, I'VE NEVER SEEN ANYTHING LIKE THIS BEFORE, EXCEPT ON MOM YEARS AGO AND UPON ASKING HER ABOUT IT, SHE SAID IT DOESN'T REALLY MEAN ANYTHING ANYMORE. AND WHY WAS CALEB POINTING AT THE FINGER PLUS STARTING TO CRY?

"Um... " BOTH CALEB AND ME LOOKED UP AT HER WHEN WE REALIZED PORRIDGE WAS SPEAKING. "I thought... " HER VOICE DIDN'T SOUND NORMAL. "I thought that if I kept it on, it would somehow be... " SHE SIGHED AND ROLLED HER HEAD ALONG HER SHOULDERS, AND I SAW THAT HER EYES WERE REFLECTING LIGHT MORE POTENTLY THAN NORMAL. WHAT? "I don't know... more—honest—" AND SHE WAS CUT OFF BY HER BREATH SUCKING INWARD AND HER BACK ARCHING—I LET GO OF HER MIDRIFF. WHAT WAS GOING ON?

"someone you met in japan?" SAID CALEB.

PORRIDGE DIDN'T SAY ANYTHING, BUT NODDED. WHAT?

CALEB HAD BEEN STANDING THERE FOR SOME TIME NOW. HE HAD WIPED THE MOISTURE OFF OF HIS FACE, AND FINALLY SOME ALARM ON HIS CELL PHONE WENT OFF, AND HE LOOKED AT IT. "happy fourteenth. twenty-three hours till our flight leaves." HE WAS REALLY QUIET, AND KIND OF MONOTONE. AND CALEB PUT AWAY THE PHONE, STILL LETTING HIS ALARM RING. FINALLY HE LOOKED AT PORRIDGE BEHIND HIS AVIATORS AND SAID: "go."

"C—Caleb—" SAID PORRIDGE—

"go" HE SAID LOUDER THIS TIME, STARTING TO WALK TOWARD HER.

"Caleb Caleb, I'm—"

"will you just fucking go!!" HE SHRIEKED, AND ALL OF A SUDDEN I CAME THERE BETWEEN CALEB AND HER, HOLDING HIM BACK AND MY ARM SHIELDING PORRIDGE'S SHAKING FRAME WHILE THE INNOCENT LITTLE ALARM CONTINUED TO GO OFF AND OFF.

RING-RING-RINGGGG!

PORRIDGE SOBBED. "Will you—will you, um, read the bottle that Seth wrote on—?"

"YOU READ IT?" I TURNED TO HER.

RINGGGG!

SHE NODDED.

"go!" CALEB YELLED, AND SUDDENLY PORRIDGE TURNED AND RAN, DISAPPEARING INTO THE DARK. I STARED.

RING-RING-RINGGGGG!

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

IN THE NIGHT AIR THE ALARM CONTINUED RINGING, AND CALEB FINALLY TOOK THE PHONE OUT OF HIS POCKET AND SWITCHED IT OFF.

I WAS STILL SO CONFUSED. SO WHY DID CALEB FREAK OUT ABOUT A FINGER-DECORATION? IS THAT HE WISHES HE COULD HAVE HIS OWN FINGER-BEJEWLMENT? AND HONESTLY I'M STARTING TO REGRET WHAT I SUGGESTED VIA WRITING ON THE BOTTLE—I'M REGRETTING IT BECAUSE OF THIS BIZARRE FUCKING BEHAVIOR TOWARDS PORRIDGE AND SOME OF THE THINGS HE'S SAID HAVE JUST SET ME TO THE LIMIT. CURSES HAVE TO BE REAL. HOW ELSE CAN YOU EXPLAIN—

"seth." I LOOKED OVER. CALEB HAD PICKED UP THE BOTTLE AND WAS READING IT NOW. HIS GLASSES HAD COME OFF, AND HE WAS STARING. HE READ THE MESSAGE I'D WRITTEN, WITH I lift the curse REFLECTING BEHIND IT, BACKWARDS, AND HE SAW THAT ON THE OTHER SIDE IT SAID

CALEB,

I HAVE A SUGGESTED NAME FOR YOUR SILLY LITTLE BUSINESS. CALL YOUR COMPANY "KNIGHT BROTHERS INCORPORATED".

I'LL EVEN ASSIST YOU IN THE ADMINISTRATION ONCE I GRADUATE COLLEGE, OF COURSE. I KNOW YOU'LL WANT ME, AND MY UNCEASING CANDOR.

SINCERELY,

-SETH YOUR BROTHER.

"WHAT DO YOU WANT?" I SAID. CALEB HAD MADE ME ANGRY AGAIN AND AGAIN. IT WAS TIME FOR IT TO END. I DON'T KNOW WHY I WROTE WHAT I DID.

CALEB LOOKED LIKE HE WAS UNDERGOING SOMETHING THAT HE'D BEEN STRUGGLING WITH FOR A LONG TIME. FINALLY, EYE STILL ON THAT BOTTLE, FINGER RUBBING MY SUGGESTED NAME FOR THE COMPANY, HE SAID "not after college."

"WHAT?"

"not after college" HE SAID AGAIN, LOUDER THIS TIME. HE LOOKED UP. "now. come with me for the flight tomorrow night. i'll have an extra seat now, you can take time off from school and help me."

I STOOD BACK. "CALEB NO." I WAS STARING IN THE DIRECTION WHERE PORRIDGE HAD RUN OFF TO. "CALEB, WHY EXACTLY DID PORRIDGE RUN AWAY? WHAT IN THE PRUMP IS REALLY GOING ON—?"

"seth." CALEB STEPPED TOWARD ME, GRABBING ME BY THE SHOULDERS. "dude." HE WAS LOOKING AT ME, LOOKING SOMEHOW DESPARATE. "none of that matters now. just trust me. i love your idea of you helping me run my business, and flying off with me, i-i think i actually need y—"

"CALEB!" AND I SHOOK HIM OFF ME, EVEN AS HIS EYES WENT HUGE AND WORN. "NO! NO, OKAY? I, I, I NEED TO STAY HERE, I HAVE OBLIGATIONS, ALRIGHT? PORRIDGE MIGHT STILL BE HERE, AND-AND MOM—WELL, MOM P-P-PROBABLY WANTS ME TO STAY HERE, TO STAY IN SCHOOL AND—"

"seth mom doesn't care about y—" HE STOPPED.

I STARED. MY TEETH WERE CLENCHED. "WHAT?"

"mom doesn't care about us." CALEB SWUNG THE BOTTLE IN HIS HAND. "not, anymore really. she has a man to take care of her now."

"I—I—I NEVER THOUGHT MOM WAS MY GREATEST FAN, BUT I KNOW I'LL PROVE MYSELF TO HER, JUST GIVE ME A CHANCE, I KNOW I'LL—"

"seth, this is your curse. this is why—"

"NO!!!" I SCREAMED, AND I PUSHED CALEB AND RAN. I RAN AND RAN AND I RAN UNTIL COMING TO THE ICE-COVERED HILL, AND I SAT DOWN THERE, IN THE SNOW. THE WIND WENT BY GENTLY, AND I COULD HEAR A COYOTE HOWLING IN THE DISTANCE, BEFORE EVENTUALLY, I LAID BACK, LETTING THE ICE NUMB MY ARMS AND LEGS AND FEET. I STARED UP AT THE MOON, WONDERING WHEN IT WOULD BE FULL AGAIN. AND—

BUT THEN MY PHONE RINGS.

I PICK IT UP, BRUSHING OFF THE ICE-COVERED CRYSTALS. CALL FROM HOME. HM. I ANSWER IT.

"CALEB JUST LISTEN, I CAN'T—"

I STOP, HEARING THE VOICE ON THE OTHER END OF THE LINE. MY CHIN DROPS.

"MOM?"

I SIT UP.

THE VOICE JUST KEEPS ON SPEAKING.

"Y-YES" I SAY EVENTUALLY, "OKAY SO YES I UNDERSTAND, CALEB TOLD YOU TO CALL ME, AND YES I REMEMBER YOU SENDING ME TO THE BACKYARD ALL THOSE YEARS AGO—BUT W-WHATEVER, IT DOESN'T MATTER! IT DOESN'T MATTER WHAT WAS HAPPENING WITH YOU AND CALEB WHILE—"

THE VOICE CUTS ME OFF, TELLING ME SOMETHING ELSE.

I PAUSE. "OH. YOU TWO WOULD DO A GAME WHERE—YOU'D—WHAT? I NEVER SAW YOU DO THAT."

THE VOICE TELLS ME ANOTHER THING.

"OH. WELL I DIDN'T EVEN KNOW WE OWNED ONE OF THOSE. I WOULD ALWAYS JUST GET SOAKED ON THE RAINY DAYS."

THE VOICE SAYS SOMETHING ELSE.

"OH. WELL, EVEN IF YOU WERE, WHATEVER, PRANCING AROUND WITH AN UMBRELLA WHILE INDOORS OR WHATEVER YOU SAID YOU WERE DOING TO ENTERTAIN SIX-YEAR-OLD CALEB, I-I STILL DON'T CARE THAT I WAS JUST EXCLUDED—"

THE VOICE CUTS ME OFF AGAIN, THIS TIME SAYING SOMETHING LOUDER AND WITH MORE FORCE THAN EVEN BEFORE. I WAIT TILL IT FINISHES.

"OH." AND I SIT THERE, HAND GETTING NUMBER AND NUMBER IN FROST. FINALLY I SAY "I DIDN'T THINK YOU WOULD SUPPORT ME DOING SOMETHING LIKE THAT, MOM. GOING ALL THE WAY TO ANTARCTICA—"

THE VOICE SAYS ANOTHER THING. MY HEAD FALLS BACK AS MY SCALP TOUCHES SNOW AGAIN.

"YOU REALLY THINK CALEB DEPENDS ON ME THAT MUCH? THAT I'VE BENEFITTED HIM AND-AND THAT I ACTUALLY MATTER, AND THAT I AM A GOOD PERSON AND I'LL FIND LOVE SOMEDAY AND I'VE BEEN THE BEST OLDER BROTHER CALEB COULD EVER HAVE AND-AND-AND ALL THESE THINGS YOU'VE JUST TOLD ME BUT THAT YOU'VE NEVER, EVER SAID BEFORE NOW—"

THE VOICE QUIETLY SAYS SOMETHING THAT IT HASN'T TOLD ME SINCE THE DAY CALEB WAS BORN.

I SIT IN THE SNOW AND WIND. THE WHITE NOISE ON THE END OF THE LINE HUMS BRILLIANTLY, AND AFTER A WHILE I OPEN MY MOUTH NEAR THE PHONE AND SAY "LOVE YOU TOO" BEFORE I HANG UP. PERFECT STRIKE.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

WHEN I ARRIVE AT THE HOUSE TEN MINUTES LATER, I SEE CALEB, SITTING IN A CHAIR AT THE FRONT ROOM. THE BOTTLE IS ON A TABLE BESIDE HIM, WHERE CAN I SEE UNDER MY PROPOSITION HE'S WRITTEN sure.

"CALEB."

HE LOOKS UP AT ME.

I TELL HIM THAT I'VE CHANGED MY MIND. I'LL GO WITH HIM TO ANTARCTICA. TOMORROW NIGHT.

CALEB LOOKS SURPRISED, AND HE SMILES. AND THEN, HE WALKS UP AND HUGS ME. I STIFFEN, NOT REALLY KNOWING WHAT EXACTLY TO DO AT FIRST, BUT THEN I JUST PUT MY ARMS AROUND HIM, AND WE BREAK.

"okay, dude" SAYS CALEB QUICKLY. HIS VOICE SOUNDS REALLY TIRED. "get packing."

"ALRIGHT."

AND I WAS IN MY ROOM SUDDENLY PACKING MY THINGS, ROLLING UP CLOTHES AND TOSSING IN ORANGE PEELS AND COFFEE CHUNKS, AND I THOUGHT ABOUT SOMETHING I SAW, SOMETHING STICKING SLIGHTLY OUT OF CALEB'S FRONT POCKET.

"you almost ready dude?" HE CALLS AS I START TO ZIP UP MY SUITCASE. 

"A MOMENT SIR" I CALL DOWN.

I PREPARE TO WALK DOWN THE STAIRCASE, THINKING ABOUT HOW IN HIS FRONT POCKET I SAW A BOX, WITH THE WORDS—

"alright" SAYS CALEB, STOPPING MY THOUGHT-TRAIN. HE STANDS IN FRONT OF THE DOOR AND LOOKS AT OUR HOUSE FOR A FINAL TIME. "off we go dude."

"OFF WE GO."

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

BEFORE WE LEFT, THERE WAS ONE OTHER STOP.

AT THE ICE-COVERED HILL, NEAR THE MOUND, YOU'LL SEE SOMETHING, STUCK IN THE SNOW AND UPSIDE-DOWN. IF IT RESEMBLES A TOTALLY EMPTY CIDER BOTTLE, WITH WORDS IN DIFFERENT HANDWRITINGS WRITTEN ALL OVER, YOU'VE COME TO THE RIGHT GRAVE.