#my truest terror come to life

[thenextchapterbegins]

Points at you

"your cringe"

[bogleech]

ALSO ON STORENVY HERE

ONCE UPON A DARK TIME IN THE TERROR AGES SOME MORON SCARED THE WORLD TO DEATH (GEE THANKS PAL!!!!!!!) BY WRITING A STORY CALLED "THE DAY OF ALL THE BLOOD." THE STORY WAS SO DARK AND GROSS THAT ANYONE WHO READ IT GOT SCARED IN REAL LIFE ALSO.

NOW MANY CENTURIES LATER THE SAME TWISTEFIED AUTHOR IS PUTTING THE STORY IN REAL PAPER YOU CAN TOUCH ALTHOUGH THE STORY IS STILL FAKE (………OR IS IT…………..) ALONG WITH SEVERAL OF THE ORIGINAL RELATED STORIES AND A BUNCH OF BRAND NEW ONES TOO SCARY TO PUT ON THE INTERNET!! ALSo the new stories aren't entirely in caps lock anymore because that got old if they were LOUDER you would get scared so hard you would quite possibly die to death for all time. This small thin paperback prints and ships in time to ruin thanksgiving or maybe christmas!!!!!!!

BRAND NEW STORIES INCLUDE:

THE MOST MURDERED GIRL IN THE WORLD: One day a girl did not listen to her mother, and got murdered by all the murderers in the world at once. The power of almost 100 murders at once transformed her forever…but into what!? The clue is in the title, but you'll never guess. heh heh heh.

THE TRUEST CRIME: one day there was a crime so terrible you will not be able to read what the bad guy did without throwing up your guts at how evil it was. Let's just say it sends 100 MILLION BABIES to prison…and that's only the beginning………

THE BODYLESS DOG: what happens when a dog gets its body cut off and doesn't die!? Well he isn't happy about it I can tell you that much.

VAMPIRE HANDS: this story is about YOU and the time your hands turned into the hands of a vampire. Maybe you think having to keep your hands in tiny coffins all day long doesn't sound so bad but that is only one of the more than one things you have to do when you have vampire hands!!!!!!

THE INVISIBLEST KNIFE: in this story you accidentally kill everyone and everything you care about and even ruin a hot dog completely. Don't worry! There's no such thing as the invisiblest knife! I am looking around right now and I don't see it anywhere. Do you??

WHEN ALL THE STEEL TURNED INTO WORMS (and it was not my fault!!!) this is one of the LONGEST stories (more than two pages!) in the book and is about when one day all the steel in the world became worms that were scared of humans so if you even looked at a car it would fall apart from all the worms running away into the dirt. Again these are descriptions and not the whole stories so this is just one of the things that happens!

THE DAY IT RAINED THE HEADS FROM SPACE: what happens when a really sharp human space probe meets a planet where everyone is the same exact height and always stands in a line on a perfectly flat plane?!?!?!?!?!!?!!?? Well they aren't happy about it I can tell you that much.

THE DOG THAT WAS TOO LONG: you like dogs, do you??? Well sometimes wishes come true but sometimes…sometimes wishes suck and were stupid to make actually. Fool.

THE WEIRD GUY: don't worry, there's no such thing as a weird guy, and if there was, it would not turn out to have been you all along! Pretend you didn't read this massive spoiler.

THE GHOST'S GHOSTS: everyone knows a ghost is twice as scary as a regular person, but what about a ghost's ghost? Obviously that would be twice as scary as a regular ghost. A twisted tale of how the human race is exterminated several hundred times in a row.

DARKNESS MOM: the worst most awful most disgusting scariest monster in the WORLD!! You will TERRIFIED to read about this mom who is TOO TALL and has a GROSS TOO LONG TONGUE and SHARP MONSTER HANDS and if she GETS YOU she will make you be IN TROUBLE all the time for like NO reason!!! NOOOO!!!!!!

THE THINGS THAT DID THE WRONG THINGS: you better not read this secret government list of things that do the wrong stuff!! The secret guys will catch you and you'll have to go to secret jail so you don't go telling everyone about anomanolies such as THE WORST TURTLE (three words, FOOL: spikes on it) or THE CLOCK THAT TELLS TIM (tim is alright though this is not his fault)

THE HALF MURDERER: what if a normal person and a murderer had a baby? It's more likely than you think! Or shall we say…half more likely…mwa ha ha ha

THE REVENGE OF THE DAY OF ALL THE BLOOD: THE LONG FEARED SEQUEL (WARNING: this one is in capitol letters again, it is PULLING NO PUNCHES!)

…………AND MAYBE SOME MORE IF I FEEL LIKE IT! *actually some more are already in it I just might add a couple more than that even

[frvnkcastles]

May I request something where the reader is just spiraling but doesn't shoe it until they're holed up in the bathroom at work (they work at Nelson, Murdock and Page) and Karen calls frank letting him know that the reader needs him. It turns out a really shitty ex came to her work waiting to get the cat they left with the reader back? But the ex can't care for the cat and lives with some aggressive dogs

(Sorry taking some shit from my life, I'd die for my cat Trash can man, plus I went head to head with an aggressive dog in a tiny enclosed path for my old cat (she was 18 at the time and lasted to 20))

MY TRUEST FEELING YET ➵ F. CASTLE

Summary: When your ex threatens to take your cat, you’re scared in a way that only Frank can mend.

Warnings: Hurt/comfort, toxic ex, gender neutral reader, language

Word count: 1.5k

Author’s note: You don’t have to be sorry, anon!! This is a safe space for everyone and I’m always so honored to receive requests that are inspired by real life, and it’s my biggest hope that I do justice to them. Lots of hugs to you and your cat!! <3

Panic and terror had been festering inside you for the past hour, growing and expanding and just waiting to explode out of you. You tried to keep your cool, not wanting to freak out at work, but it was proving hard to stay calm and go about your duties like nothing had happened.

Your ex had shown up at the office, demanding to get back the cat you had claimed for yourself after the break-up. You had been happy to cut ties with them, ready to start a new chapter with your cat who had already gotten you through so many lows, but now, they had come back to take away your best friend. Only the thought made you sick, as you knew they couldn’t take care of the cat the way you did, and the only reason they were doing this was most likely to hurt you.

Realistically, you knew Frank would have stood between them and the cat like a brick wall if it came down to it, but you couldn’t stop yourself from overthinking the situation to a point where you couldn’t focus on work at all.

You left your desk and stormed into the bathroom, locking yourself behind the door as you broke into nervous sobs. You leaned against the door and buried your face in your hands as you cried in the pure fear that you’d never see your cat again, not even remotely able to handle the heartbreak that would come with that loss. You couldn’t stop panicking, and the flurry of emotions only gained power while you sobbed into your palms.

Karen was the first to hear you. You were alone at the office with her, and so it didn’t take much for her to figure it out it was you who was weeping in the bathroom. Her alarm bells went off and she rapidly knocked on the door, calling out to you and asking if you were okay — but you couldn’t answer, couldn’t even process what she was saying.

She stayed for a while, attempting to open the door you had locked and knocking over and over again, but when you refused to open up, she did the only thing she could think of. She called Frank.

He frowned at the sight of Karen’s caller ID on his screen, his mind always preparing for the worst, always worried about you. ”Yeah?” he picked up the phone, swallowing hard as he waited for Karen to explain why she was calling, his heart already racing in his chest.

”I—I don’t know what’s going on, they’re locked in the bathroom and won’t stop crying. I’m really worried, Frank”, she elaborated while pacing back and forth in the office. Frank didn’t need to be told anything else, just the information that you were struggling in any way was enough to get him moving.

”I’m on my way. Thanks for lettin’ me know”, he announced before hanging up the phone. You had seemed completely fine when leaving for work that morning, so it worried him deeply that something had happened within the hours you had been gone, and he was determined to get to the bottom of it and help you through whatever was weighing you down.

He drove as fast as he could, and soon enough, he arrived at the office and stomped inside. Karen met him in the hallway and guided him to the bathroom where you were still holed up. Your crying had slowed down to the occasional sniffle, but you were still shaking and scared out of your mind. You were swallowed up by the vicious cycle of your thoughts, convinced that you were going to lose your cat, and it felt like nothing could snap you out of it.

Until you heard Frank’s voice.

”Sweetheart, you in there? Can I come in?” he asked through the door, and blinking away the tears, you pushed yourself off of the wall. You were terrified, but if there was anyone who could bring you back down from that bitter high, it was Frank. He always knew what to say or do, and he always helped you see the good in everything — so, you didn’t hesitate to unlock the door.

You opened up and found Frank standing there with a solemn face, similar to Karen’s worried expression as she stood behind him. The combined concern you had caused made you feel a little embarrassed, but you were still incredibly relieved to see your boyfriend who reached for your shoulder with a comforting hold.

”What’s goin’ on, darlin’? You were really worryin’ me and Karen”, he queried carefully, his lips curved downwards as he observed your face, from the red eyes to the wobbling lips. He had a primal urge to do anything he could to help, and even if he didn’t know the reason behind your tears yet, his fists itched to punch and hit.

”My ex was here. Came demanding to have my cat. I don’t know what they’re gonna do next but I can’t—I can’t lose—”, you began explaining, getting choked up before you could get all the words out, but Frank got the gist of it. He had heard plenty about your ex from you, enough to develop hatred after the way you had been treated, and he most definitely wasn’t going to let anyone take your cat away from you. It had taken some time for him to really learn how to act around a cat and how to get one to like him, but now, he couldn’t imagine the house without your baby.

”Nah, nah, sweetheart, it’s okay”, he assured you, crouching down to your eye level, his hands on your shoulders. ”Hey, no one’s gonna touch that cat as long as I got anythin’ to say ’bout it. Little menace was at home when I left, loungin’ about like owner of the house. The cat’s fine, baby, and I ain’t lettin’ anyone change that”, he swore, meaning every word, and as much was obvious in the grave stare he directed at you.

You sniffled again and gave him a look. ”There’s dogs in the house, too. Aggressive ones. It’s no place for a cat”, you went on, and nodding, Frank hauled you into his arms. He wrapped his arms tightly around you and nuzzled his face into your hair, trying to exude as much comfort as he possibly could.

”I know, baby. But I’m tellin’ ya, that cat is goin’ nowhere. I’ll make sure of it, yeah?” he murmured against you, truly a man on a mission. He was going to protect that cat with all his might, and he had already decided he was going to pay your ex a visit and tell them to back off or face the consequences. He wasn’t playing around when it came to your happiness, and as freaked out as you were, you knew that and trusted him.

”I don’t know what I’d do without you, Frankie”, you sighed into his chest, and chuckling softly, he pulled back enough to drop his forehead onto yours.

”You ain’t ever gon’ have to find out, either. Promise”, he whispered before connecting your lips together, gentle but deep as he kissed you. You closed your eyes and leaned into it, finding so much comfort in the feeling of his mouth against yours, his arms around your waist. Even when he let go, his lips lingered and it was enough to make you smile.

”There you are”, he breathed out at the sight, ”my pretty baby. Would do anything to see that smile.” Heat crept up to your cheeks at the praise and it was hard to feel sad anymore, so reluctantly, you let go of the anxiety. You were still a little worried your ex would show up at your home, but knowing Frank would be at your defense was a massive consolation.

”Hey, I think you should head home. Not much to do around here today, anyway”, Karen chimed in, a kind smile on her lips as she watched you and Frank embrace.

”Yeah, I like the sound of that. Lemme take you home, sweetheart”, Frank agreed, and you didn’t see the point in arguing. Seeing your cat sounded perfect right now, too.

You made your way home, and before you knew it, you were cuddled up on the couch with Frank and your cat. Being in his arms with your baby on your lap was the closest thing to Heaven on earth, and you felt the panic of the day slowly fade into nothingness as you scratched your cat’s chin and enjoyed the sensation of Frank caressing your hair.

”I ain’t ever lettin’ anyone take this away from us. Love you so fuckin’ much, love what we have”, Frank rasped from behind you, his voice tingling in your ear, and your heart melted.

”I love you, too”, you responded, so full of appreciation for the man holding you in his arms. You felt at home with him, more than you ever did with your ex, and you knew that would never change.

And as promised, Frank stopped by your ex’s house with a warning mixed with a threat, and you no longer had to even imagine saying goodbye to your cat.

[gancegancerevo]

Zwillingstürme im Herbst Thoughts

ZT to me, is a story of endings. Not just the factual endings of eras, Arts, and songs. But also the great question of "What happens after the end?"

Each major character faces an ending in this story. Leithanien faces the end of both the Kaiserinnen and the truest finale of the Witch King. The Liches end their stay in the country. Viviana comes to terms with her Leithanien heritage, Ebenholz frees himself from all of his demons, and Arturia, well, we'll get to Arturia.

One of the most notable things is how this story treats hope and the indomitable human spirit. Unlike other stories, it does not praise humanity and treat them as some unstoppable limitless force by virtue of their emotions. Instead, it takes a very nuanced approach that's informed by how powerless these characters can actually get. Sure they can charge forward towards their goals but they'll still die and they'll still be faced with darkness and regrets. Even still, we should embrace our emotions and the turmoil they bring.

The Genesis Horn and Kagenreich are such interesting ideas but it can feel weird that much of the climax is emotional conflicts made manifest. Viviana's is the most obvious. The constant doors to possible new lives culminating in her real one. She comes to let go of the past and stand for herself which is nice. It's also nice that it was Margaret's light that helped her fight back the darkness. An exquisite call-back to the Radiant Knight.

Ebenholz helped to paint a very unique lesson in my opinion. That suffering doesn't NEED meaning. Even after promising Kreide that he'd live and fight fate, he's still plagued by headaches and Witch King Remnants. The revelation that whatever was in his head, the Voice of Mundane, was just a mundane voice upends many of the things we've (us and Ebenholz) assumed about his life. That his suffering was tied to the Witch King and that his conflict would culminate in a big fight against the man whose shadow terrorized him. Instead they have a heart to heart and the Witch King challenges him to look back on his life and realize that "the night itself is meaningless." It is totally fine to have a terrible thing just be a terrible thing and moving on doesn't have to involve a great trials to overcome, sometimes your enemies kill themselves and you just walk away.

Arturia is the most interesting but I'm afraid I can't do her full arc justice. In contrast to his accommodating spin with Ebenholz, the Witch King challenges Arturia at every turn, questioning her motive and why she wants what she does. It comes to a head when he forcefully dives into her and sees that there is only one thing that stirred her own emotions. Everything else is a mirror of someone else. He ultimately gives her the answer she's looking for and the natural doubt that comes when the answer she found didn't meet her expectations. But her bouncing back as chaos descended was beautiful and I might reread this and Hortus just to really grasp her character.

Cora and Brandt, Hildegard and Lisellote (no idea how to, spell the Kaserinnen's surnames), Michel, Lessing, and the Liches. All sorts of stories come to a close as new beginnings emerge. And the most troublesome of them is definitely the makings of the newest source of conflict: the Disaster, the encroaching of chaos upon reality and the return of the supposed Creator.

It's quite likely that that may be the angle of the next major story arc, especially with the role Nearl's light played and the fact that Laterano is trying so hard to unite the nations.

This event was great and I recommend it. Not sure if I have any major notes or ideas to share but I really liked it.

One last thing: seems people are kinda wary of Lisellote, the Eternal Grace. I love it when the supposedly fluffier one has the greater potential of evil

[maverick-werewolf]

Werewolf Thoughts - Day 31, Happy Halloween!

Day 31- Happy Halloween! For the final day, I just want to expand upon how, as preposterous as it may seem, I really cannot put into words how much the concept of this curse of the werewolf captivates me. There are endless elements to explore and stories to tell with such a thing (and I am going to tell as many as I can, myself, in my own fiction). The distant howl of a beast, wolfish yet wrong, drifting over the graveyards and haunted forests under the light of the full moon as the air hangs thick with fog-- knowing it is the voice of a cursed monster but also of an innocent soul, haunted, powerless, enduring the untold agony of the transformation and now indescribably dangerous… cursed, lost in rage with which no man could contend, and always starving for flesh.

It is one of the deepest tales of tragedy. The werewolf is a being of duality, of halves, never to be truly whole. Neither a man nor a beast, they must wander, alone, lost, at odds with themselves, in sorrow, fury, and eternal hunger. How does one reconcile committing atrocities in the skin of a beast? How can any good person continue as such a monster?

It gives me chills just thinking about it. I've never seen a concept cooler, and I know I never will. You cannot best the oldest of legends and such a core terror that haunts all humanity: the idea that even the most civilized a man could become the most terrible of beasts. This is why werewolves have haunted the human psyche since the dawn of time - and they always will.

Obviously, there are many takes on werewolves, especially these days, and not all folklore told such tales, but I'm speaking in terms of why werewolves captivate me personally. To me, it all comes back to The Wolf Man (1941), as inspired by legends and turned into a tale of tragedy that touches the hearts of all who hear it. You cannot help but relate to such a character, feel sorry for him, but you always must wonder… what would you do, in such a situation? What would you do, as a werewolf - or as a werewolf's loved one? What would you do, if someone you cared about turned into a monster?

That is untold narrative power.

As always, I have endless werewolf thoughts all the time, not to mention publishing werewolf articles, folklore research, and much more. I am also finally getting into publishing my werewolf fiction, which has always been my truest life goal.

November this year (or December if things go sour for me, but hopefully November), I will have a new release called Wulfgard: The Prophecy of the Six, Book I - Knightfall. It's the biggest deal to me. I've worked on this story my whole life and been editing this huge revision of it for almost ten years. It means so much to me. And I'm so proud of it. I can't wait to publish it and share it with the world.

I really hope you'll check it out. So be sure to check back with me for its release and pick up a copy (or maybe even take part in some fun giveaways and other things I have planned). It's kind of like Lord of the Rings meets The Wolf Man. If you love traditional fantasy, adventure, horror, werewolves, knights, mystery, and even pitched battles, this book has it all.

For now, though, I have to get back to work on said book. I hope my werewolf post series here has been fun, thought-provoking, and even educational. I do this kind of thing all the time, but I've never done a once a day series. It's been a blast.

So, once again - happy Halloween!

img: art of werewolf Tom Drake from Wulfgard, by Saber-Scorpion

[gealach-in-a-misty-world]

In the year 4 BCE, an ambitious courtier is called upon to seduce the young emperor—but quickly discovers they are both ruled by blood, sex and intrigue. In 1740, a lonely innkeeper agrees to help a mysterious visitor procure a rare medicine, only to unleash an otherworldly terror instead. And in present-day Los Angeles, a college student meets a beautiful stranger and cannot shake the feeling they’ve met before. Across these seemingly unrelated timelines woven together only by the twists and turns of fate, two men are reborn, lifetime after lifetime. Within the treacherous walls of an ancient palace and the boundless forests of the Asian wilderness to the heart-pounding cement floors of underground rave scenes, our lovers are inexplicably drawn to each other, constantly tested by the worlds around them. As their many lives intertwine, they begin to realize the power of their undying love—a power that transcends time itself…but one that might consume them both.

"Just because something is true, doesn't mean it is good."

Justinian Huang's The Emperor and the Endless Palace is inexplicably marketed as a romantasy, but it's more than that and it's not that at all. It is romantic, in the truest sense of the word, but it's not a romance: it's a story about love and lust, obsession and revenge. We follow three apparently unrelated storylines, ranging from the distant past in Imperial China to the present, but realize very quickly how these storylines are related. One could say that it's obvious, since it's right there on the blurb, but the way the story is told makes the beauty of it, and it surprises with a few well-placed twists that stun and confound and yet, seem inevitable.

Everything moves like clockwork, every lingering question is answered. The author paints with deft strokes the life at Court of an ambitious clerk, the life of a restless innkeeper in the woods, the life of a present-day gay man coming to terms with his orientation; and the characters breathe to life, with all their contradictions. The reveal of the tangled web of lust and love, of the way the circle of reincarnation drives the characters' lives, is done beautifully.

The prose really is incredible. The narration is vivid, and quite explicit, with unforgettable imagery. There are quite a few sex scenes, and each is described with metaphors suited to the time, which I found very clever. There's quite a few quotes from ancient poetry, and the author seamlessly works in folk tales and real history to make a grand tale of unbridled passions and toxic behavior.

The story presents some triggering scenes of sexual assault.

The Emperor and the Endless Palace is a gorgeous cautionary tale.

✨ 5 stars

[You can find more of my reviews about queer speculative fiction on my blog MISTY WORLD]

[rinwellisathing]

Get to know my OCs: Love Test Reactions:

Sentry Ojeda:

Partnered: "Heh...a little tame for me, but I'll do it for you, love."

High approval: "Eh...sure, why not? If for no other reason it'll be hilarious."

Medium approval: "Nah... I don't really feel like it...seems kinda twee..."

Low approval: (Sentry bursts out laughing, nearly coming to tears.) "Oh god....really? Fucking really? Ohhh fuck me...no...absolutely not."

Questions : Sentry can be brutal, visceral, but inside of him lies an artist's soul. What is Sentry's truest expression?

Answer: painting sweeping scenes of horror and bloodshed

A paladin is a paragon of faith, devoted wholly to a cause or a being. From what does Sentry draw his power?

Answer: Vengeance for himself and for those he loves. He is their justice.

Born to the cold stone and high walls of the city, Sentry is a Solitary creature very often. For whom does he set aside his solitude?

Answer: animals, especially those forgotten and unnoticed by most. He feels a kinship.

Jaina Thalassia:

Partnered: "Of course! But be warned, a captain knows her crew better than any."

High approval: "Sure, why not? Carnival games are always a treat."

Medium approval: "Whoa! Easy there sailor, I don't think so..."

Low approval: "Reel yourself in, mate, you're not quite the catch you think you are. No thank you. "

Questions: A storm at sea, Maiden of the Tempest. Jaina's heart and mind rage like an angry tide...What calms her storm?

Answer: music, the songs of her people from haunting siren song to raucous shanties.

The past haunts us all, like a ghost from the deep. What haunts the captain's daughter?

Her near inevitable death from her illness once the tadpole no longer suppresses it.

A captain is only strong as her crew. Who does Jaina trust most in hardship?

Her family.

Kroger of Creche K'liir:

Partnered: "As you say, my love. Let's test our mettle."

High approval: "I suppose I can spare the time."

Medium approval: "oh....no....I really don't want to, actually."

Low approval: "I can cure so many things, but evidently not your delusions."

Question: Kroger unites magic with the natural world to strengthen his healing abilities, to strengthen his knowledge...but what is his greatest weakness?

Answer: not understanding hidden meanings others seem to grasp so easily.

Kroger, a devoted healer and man of faith. What is his greatest regret?

Not seeing through Vlaakith's lies sooner.

What does Ghustil Kroger consider his greatest honor?

Healing the sick and saving lives.

Octavia of Creche K'liir:

Partnered: "Yes! I believe my notes on you are most thorough, my love!"

High approval: "Have you been studying me? How exciting!"

Medium approval: "oh....um...huh? I wasn't paying attention..."

Low approval: "you are not a subject I'm interested in studying."

Questions: Octavia dwells on her research most heavily, what is her favorite area of study?

Answer: the Weave and it's wonders.

The scholar is a gifted, studious person...What is Octavia's greatest goal in life?

To bring knowledge to her people and better their lives beyond just warfare

They say knowledge is the enemy of fear, but all beings fear something...what is Octavia's greatest fear?

Being useless to her people.

Jackal Silk:

Partnered: "Oh anything you say, my master!"

High approval: "what, me? You're sure?"

Medium approval: "Not really my cuppa, boss..."

Low approval: "I should gut you for that. Find someone else, you insect."

Questions: Jackal, a predator hunting his quarry in the dark...what hunting ground does he prefer?

The dark alleys of the city are his home.

Even a creature of rage and hate wants for something, what is Jackal's greatest ambition?

To become a terror enough to strike fear into the matriarchs of Menzoberranzan

Even a predator feels fear, what quickens the heartbeat of the proud Gloomstalker?

The asylum walls

[galaxyedging]

Joel Miler x f!reader

WC:2.8k

Warnings: character death, angst, virginal fingering.

Summary: Finally getting back to Joel, you witness events that shake you all to your core.

More of Us Part 6

Masterlist

Coming to, your body checked in with your brain. Head, throbbing. Legs, aching. Hands, pins and needles. Mouth, metallic taste. Blood? No, not copper, something else. As your brain started to be more aware, your surroundings became apparent. Grey walls covered in dirt and mould. The smell of damp, dust and decay. The tiles and fixtures of the small bathroom, damaged and cracked. Broken, just like the rest of the world and the people in it. You were back in their nightmare world.  

When you reached for the towel rail to pull you up, it came off in your hand with a clang. A clang that alerted Joel. His pistol came into view before he did. 

"Joel! It's me." In a panic you tried to shrink away from him. 

"Shit." Tucking his gun away he made his way over to you. "Baby. You're alive. You're here. I…" he blinked tears away as his hands skimmed over you, checking for injuries. "I thought I'd lost you. It's been days."

"I know. I thought I'd never get back to you. I kept moving forward though." Clinging to him, having his arms around you, even with all the insanity of the last few days everything felt right. No matter what universe you were in. In Joel's arms was where you belonged. The notion made you laugh, you barely knew the man but somewhere in your heart you knew it was the truest thing you had ever felt. You knew it with such conviction and clarity that it was actually more terrifying than anything you had been through the last few days. Now, you had something to lose that you valued more than your life. If you died, that was it. There was no pain. If Joel died, that pain would be worse than death. A loss that would leave a wound inside of you that would never heal. 

"I'm so glad you did. Come on, let's go wake Ellie. She's been asking about you nonstop." Giving you one last squeeze, he helped you up from the floor. 

The moment held so much joy and promise and that all changed in the blink of an eye. Joel opened the door then bolted out across the room. Henry stood in front of you, his gun at his side, his eyes wide in terror. The sounds of a struggle, of Ellie struggling, moved you forward. Standing just behind Henry as he moved forward you saw what was going on. The whole scene had you rooted to the spot. Sam. The little boy you'd met a few days ago. The one with bright brown eyes full of concern as you lay on the floor. The one who still hadn't seen enough in the cruel world he lived in to be desensitised to it all. The one who looked afraid for you, a stranger he had just met. That boy. He was attacking Ellie. 

"Shit. He's turnin'!" Joel rooted for his gun.

Henry shot it from his hand before he got a chance to use it. "That's my fucking brother."

As Joel dove for his bag again, Henry raised his gun. Just as you stepped forward to try to protect Joel, Henry fired. This time at his brother. The boy choked on his own blood as Ellie crawled away from him to the safety of Joel's side. There was so much blood. It spread over the floor so quickly. He was only a kid. How was there so much blood? 

"Sam?" Henry took in a ragged breath. "Sam?"

"Henry?" Joel stepped towards the younger man. "Henry. I'm gonna get that gun from you. Okay?"

All the while Henry had been muttering while softly sobbing. It took everything you had not to reach out for him. You couldn't imagine what he was going through. The cruelty of this world held no bounds. To lose his brother twice in mere minutes. He posture folded with the weight of it. It only straighten when Joel moved to take his gun. "It's your fault!"

Joel bowed his head. "It's nobody's fault, Henry."

"It's all your fault!" 

The tension rose in the room, the hairs on the back of your neck stood up, electricity zipped underneath your skin. No. Not now. You weren't going anywhere. Unless. Maybe you could take Henry with you so he couldn't hurt Joel? Your whole being felt like it was being split in two, the part of you that wanted to get as far away from here as possible and the part that wanted to stay with Joel. The sound of a gunshot merged the two back together. They both stood just behind Henry's dead body.

There should be so many emotions inside your chest. Fear. Sadness. Regret. Not one made an appearance. There was just a cold void. Looking down you saw your hands shaking. Hands that Ellie was soon grabbing at. "Take us back! Take us to your world. Do it!" Her anger at you soon melted into her sobbing in your arms. The two of you slid down to the floor. Numbly, you tried to soothe her while you watched Joel. 

The deep brown eyes showed so much sorrow looking at the two dead boys in front of him. To Joel, Henry was still a kid himself. Joel didn't blame him for not being able to handle it. Shit, Joel himself had…his eyes landed on you and Ellie, looking even more sorrowful. For a moment, he stood over you. His hand hovered over Ellie's head as if he was going to offer the comfort of his touch. Clenching his fist, he thought better of it. Deciding to offer a different type of comfort he moved to Sam's body. 

From your position on the floor, you watched as Joel lifted the young boy. He cradled him as if Sam had just fallen asleep on the couch and needed to be carried to bed. That's all Joel was doing, just letting the child finally rest. Tears flowed from your eyes, your grip on Ellie tightened as the shock wore off. You could have stopped this, you should have.

 

"Your turn." Ellie nudged your arm. 

After nearly a week of spending most of the day walking, Joel decided you all needed a rest. He'd seen your reluctance but he hadn't addressed it.

Tapping the tiny pencil against your paper, you looked at the word staring back at you. "I really suck at this game. I'm gonna get some air. Maybe that will help me think." With the best smile you could muster, you made your way to the door.

Ellie silently urged Joel to follow you. While he did she looked down at your Boggle sheet. 'Fault' was neatly written at the top of the page. 

"Hey. It's getting cool out here." Joel draped his jacket over your shoulders. 

"Thank you." Tugging it close you revelled in the scent of him for a moment. 

This past week, you'd kept your distance. He'd held you, as he'd escorted you out of that room. The room with their blood still fresh on the floor. Past their fresh graves. He leaned you against a car as Ellie went back to pay her respects. She returned looking just as determined as ever. He gave you a comforting squeeze as he helped you up then that was it. If Ellie can stand on her own two, you could too. The weight of feeling responsible for the loss of Sam and Henry was taking its toll. How long until something happened to one of them that you could have stopped? That thought kept you up at night. Then it branched out, spread like an infection. What if, just by being there, you changed everything? The game was based on a future that someone saw. What if that future was changing more and more with each second you were with Joel and Ellie? What if you caused things to deviate so much that you got one of them killed? Or both of them? What if it was left up to you to keep Ellie safe? What if Ellie dies because of you? It was all too much for you to take.

After a while passed in silence, Joel gently lay his hand on your shoulder. "What's going on in that beautiful head of yours? Talk to me."

"I…I need to leave Joel. If I stay I could get you or Ellie killed." Heartbreak laced your tone.

"I could get me or Ellie killed. He'll, chances are Ellie will be the death of me. Whether by running off and getting into trouble or her attitude, I don't know." He leaned on the railings next to you, looking out onto the deserted motel parking lot.

"Joel. I'm not joking!"

"Neither am I."

"The game in my world is one possibility of your future. What if me being here changes that? What if I change what happens and you get hurt?"

Joel cupped your face in both of his hands. Flashes of raw emotion crossed his face before he setted on a smile. "What if you change it for the better?" 

The kiss he pulled you into was all consuming. It pulled you out of everything. Out of your head until all you could think about was Joel.

A dull thud from inside broke you two apart. Ellie's face was in the window. Giving it a hard tug, she slid it open."Sorry. I knocked over a lamp. Anyway I'm going to my bedroom on the opposite side to yours. With me headphones in so I won't be able to hear any…stuff."

"Ellie! There won't be anything to hear." Joel authorities tone was undercut by the blush of his cheeks.

"Do you need one of Bill's magazines to remind you how to…?" Ellie had the good sense to retreat as she made that comment. 

The two of you laughed, when it petered out there was a comfortable silence. Joel had made you feel comfortable since the moment you met him. Tugging the lapels of his jacket, he pulled you in for another kiss. Just a soft, fleeting touch of his lips. 

"Come on. Let's get you inside." 

Joel went around securing the room, some previous occupant had already done a pretty good job. Ellie was already asleep when he came to your room. 

"You alright? Do you need anything?" The room was relatively clean. It felt secure. The mattress on the floor could have been thicker but it was better than the floor. 

"I'm okay. I don't think I need anything." One thing did occur to you. The comfort that Joel brought. "Can you sleep in here?" Joel had planned to sleep on the sofa in the living room. 

The room you were in was at the end of the first floor. Ellie's room was on the outside, the windows were all barricaded. The window of your room was right next to the front door. It would be safe enough for him to sleep in here. More importantly, he wanted to be in here with you. It had been a long time since had let himself want anything.

He let that want reach out for you. He kissed like you were the last good thing in this world. His hands trembled as he he used them to memories your curves. Nothing good lasts in the world. Joel understood your fears about getting him hurt. He carried the same one's about you. Was it him that was keeping you trapped here? He saw the weird energy snapping around you when Henry had his gun pointed at him. He saw you take a breath and it dissipated. It was something he was going to have to face but not right now. Not with you, warm and eager under his touch. Not while cock swelled so quickly at your soft gasps.

"Can I touch you?" His warm breath tickled the hairs on your neck as he kissed up it. 

Your breathless reply of "God, yes." pulled a chuckle from him. 

His wide palm slid down across your stomach until his fingers smoothed across your pubic hair. Suddenly, thoughts of your personal grooming invaded your head. It's been a while since I neatened up. The man lives in the apocalypse. I'm sure he's seen worse on other women. I wonder how many? Will I compare…ooh. 

Joel's finger tips parted your folds. They found the slick gathered at your entrance before spreading it around. He lightly traced your lips to warm you up, before seeking out your clit. Softly circling it until he was satisfied, he dipped his fingers lower, finding you open for him. Two thick fingers searched for your sweet spot as his thumb swiped your clit. There was nothing else you could think of in the world. No one had ever touched you like this. It was perfect. He was perfect.

Your shoulders lift off the thin mattress as your orgasm rolls through you. Turning your body towards the source of your pleasure, you covered your mouth with Joel's broad shoulder to muffle the sounds. When he didn't stop his movements, making every delicious feeling even more intense you bit down on the soft flannel of his shirt. The europhia caused you to giggle uncontrollably.

"Better?" Joel asked, kissing your temple. Easing his hand out from between your legs, he did your jeans back up. Then he pulled you closer. Close enough for you to feel him heavy against your thigh. 

"Much. Do you want me to…?" Your fingers traced the outline of him straining against his denim while stifling a yawn.

"Not tonight. You just sleep." 

[nero-vanderwolf]

Ken was tired.

He had been tired for a few days now, unable to sleep due to a series of night terrors. Before he joined S.E.E.S, they were usually just about his mom.

But now, they were about everyone. About all the terrible ways they could die. Makoto-senpai was there a lot. He saw their leader laying there in Tartarus, unresponsive and unmoving. Ken dreamt of hugging him, of feeling cold instead of warm and seeing no comforting smile and hearing no heartbeat and knowing it was his fault, he had healing skills why didn’t he heal him-

He sat up, kicking wildly at his bedsheets, skin covered in a cold sweat. This was the third night he had dreamt of that day. He knew he wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep, so he wandered downstairs to the lounge.

There, on the carpet, was stretched Koromaru. The dog seemed sound asleep, scarlet eyes closed and snores sounding from deep in his throat.

How Ken longed to live a life as simple as Koro-chan’s.

Ken laid down on the couch, stretching his hand out to pet Koromaru. The dog lifted his head, awakened from slumber. Koromaru then promptly licked Ken’s hand, eliciting a quiet giggle. He always liked being around animals. It was calming, in a way. Comforting.

Before long, Ken was drifting off again, this time dreaming of summer days and that time Shinjiro went with him to the Film Festival.

“That was so cool! I loved the way it was revealed that there was another mastermind behind everything, and the final battle when the hero’s teammates kept taking the finishing hit for him!? So freaking awesome!”

He realised how childish and immature he sounded, and cleared his throat. “I mean... It’s all fake, so... Thank you for coming with me, Shinjiro-senpai.”

Shinjiro-senpai raised an eyebrow before speaking.

“...My favourite scene was when the detective was telling the heroes about how he got away with everything by blaming the kidnappings on the delivery man. The actor really sold the part, didn’t he?”

Ken looked at him for a moment before nodding. “Yeah, that scene was awesome, too. But I think my favourite-ever part was when the hero awakened to his truest self and used his new power to beat the villain once and for all! Bam!”

Ken punched his palm, and looked up at Shinjiro-senpai, who was... smiling. He was smiling and nodding.

“Bam,” he agreed, and Ken couldn’t help the glowing warmth that shone in his chest.

When Ken woke up that morning, sprawled on the couch with Koromaru curled up beside him, he realised that Shinjiro-senpai’s coat had been laid over him like a blanket.

I LOVE KEN AND SHIJI'S RELATIONSHIP HES KEN'S DEPRESSED ADOPTED FATHER WHO REALLY CARES ABOUT HIM

ken would absolutely be scared of the people he cares about dying. after his mom death is all he can think about. also wanting to act mature but still having a childish side is so real. hurts so much especially when everyone expects you to be mature/you think they do. just. if you want to be childess regardless of your age because you got your childhood taken away from you or you just want more childhood? just fucking act childish. ken deserves to act like a child too.

[angelofrainfrogs]

Spend the Night: Ch. 20

~Coauthored by @zeitghest~

Fandom(s): Five Nights At Freddy’s: Security Breach

Description: The familiar melody of Grandfather’s Clock chimes through the echoing halls of the Pizzaplex…

Charlie wakes up in her Puppet’s vessel yet again with one goal in mind: to stop William Afton’s reign of terror for good. She enlists the help of Glamrock Freddy, the emphatic leader of the newest iteration of the Fazbear Band. But there seems to be more to this bear than meets the eye—and the same goes for the mysteriously familiar kid the duo find tinkering with animatronics down in Parts & Service.

With some help from friends new and old, Charlie’s journey into the bowels of the Pizzaplex will unravel mysteries none of them ever expected. 

Rating: T

Read on Ao3

Stay calm, stay calm Every hair is on its end That's fine, I'm fine Feeling my adrenaline That's fine, I'm fine

~Stay Calm by Griffinilla, Jeff Burgess~

Together, they impacted into the maintenance tunnels. Despite the tremendous fall Gregory avoided any broken bones, though nearly every piece of exposed skin that wasn't shielded by Michael's body felt bruised. In turn Mike oozed a crimson, synthetic blood—another odd detail that Henry chose to include, perhaps to enhance the realism of his work.

When Gregory opened his eyes again he spotted the go-kart, but failed to locate Roxy immediately. She’d been sandwiched between the car and the wall, so she should be lying in a crumpled heap amidst the rubble. A dark tingle of stunned fear raced up Gregory’s spine, shocking him into silence.

…That was until Roxy lifted the kart up as if it were nothing more than a blanket. She threw it, narrowly missing the boys. Gregory once again thought this might be his last moment as the wolf stalked over to them. Fingers pulled the torn fabric of Michael’s shirt; if Gregory was going down in this godforsaken Pizzaplex, the obvious choice was to cling to one of the truest friends he’d ever had while his life was snuffed out.

“Look at that… You’re going to die. No real family. No real friends, either. That must suck—” Roxy interrupted herself with her own maniacal laughter as she limped carefully towards the boys—

—until she was stopped by a thick metal cord that coiled tightly around her leg. She blinked, confused at the sudden intrusion on her work before she was pulled hard and fast. Whipped to the ground in a prone position, Roxy shrieked in both simulated pain and sudden fear.

“—WAIT! DON’T!” was all she could muster before being quickly dragged into the shadows. It was then that Gregory and Michael became audio witnesses to Roxy’s dismemberment. She shouted and pleaded until her voice box was carefully disconnected, large pieces of her thrown asunder for the dayshift guards to find later.

When the clown head emerged from around the corner, it stared right through the traumatized boys with abject obsession, voice low and crackling. “ACCORDING… TO PLAN… MIKEY…”

Michael let out a low, broken whine in response, slowly sitting up while clinging to Gregory with a grip that would certainly hurt if the boy hadn’t been just as shell-shocked. One of Michael’s hands clutched white-knuckled in Gregory’s hair, holding his head protectively against his chest. Mike’s other arm snaked around Gregory’s waist, synthetic blood leeching into Gregory’s shirt from a large gash tracing the android’s wrist to inner elbow. There was also a trickle of “blood” oozing down from the left corner of Michael’s mouth, but that seemed to be the worst of his injuries.

When Ennard simply watched them, swaying slightly but not making any move to come closer or attack, Michael managed to stutter out a hushed: “T-Thank… you…?”

Gregory couldn't speak. He wasn't sure if this interaction would make him love or hate clowns from now on. He was just certain he'd feel very strongly about them one way or another. Ennard looked topside towards the light in the ceiling before pointing behind the duo.

“...RACEWAY... SERVICE ELEVATOR... TAKE—TAKE—TAKE TO SURFACE...,” they said in a voice that sounded like nails on a chalkboard, static haze nearly impossible to decipher if one wasn’t listening close enough.

Gregory stared at Ennard, watching for any sharp movements. Then he relented, nodding his head once to show his understanding before Ennard slithered back into the darkness.

Gregory tried to speak then, to say something—anything—but the blood covering him in the darkness felt like it was suffocating him, too. Michael's cut arm shouldn't have been real, but to Gregory it looked like fresh gore, the violent wound suppressing his thoughts and making his words come out as little huffs.

This was all too much. Just when things seemed to be going somewhat right in Michael’s life, another event five times as traumatic happened instead. All he wanted to do was curl up into a ball and sleep for 100 years—maybe by that point the Fazbear franchise and all its related horrors would be nothing but dust, and Michael could finally breathe again.

But he couldn’t do that. Not now.

He had too many people to protect, one of whom was currently shaking like a leaf in his arms.

“H-Hey… hey…,” Michael began, then stopped to swallow a pool of blood that had lodged in his throat. Where it actually went he had no idea, although he wouldn’t put it past Henry to install an entire digestive system in these weird bodies.

Easing his grip on Gregory, Mike finally noticed the gash in his arm and almost choked at how real it looked. He searched for anything to stop the bleeding, but after finding nothing except broken mechanics, he simply ripped off the bottom half of his shirt and did his best to wrap the wound. Gregory was still sitting in his lap, staring at Michael’s arm with a dull, sort of queasy expression. With a grimace, Mike noticed the boy’s shirt was soaked through with a dark stain where he’d held him for dear life. After wiping the trail of blood off his face, Michael pressed gentle fingers to the underside of Gregory’s chin and tilted his head up to look at him properly.

“Hey.” Michael spoke with the confidence of a big brother taking charge to assure his siblings there’s absolutely nothing to worry about, even when there clearly is. Offering Gregory a slightly shaky smile, he continued: “We’re a-okay, kid; you’re fine, I-I’m fine, and so are Freddy and Charlie.”

He ran a hand through Gregory’s hair, trying to comfort and get off some of the dust from their tumble. “As long as I'm around I’m always going to keep you safe, okay? Promise.”

The reassuring words had put sparkles in the kid’s eyes. Though in actuality, those were just sparks from Roxy’s dismembered limbs that burned bright enough to catch a reflection off Gregory’s watery vision. While he couldn’t seem to muster words, he could finally move…

Slowly, calculated, Gregory dug inside one of his cargo pockets. After fishing for the roll of gauze he’d swiped from one of the first aid kits Gregory held it out, finally mustering the courage to speak after a few deep breaths.

“Here… Let me help,” he murmured, taking Mike's arm and slowly wrapping the gauze around the length of the cut. “Tell me if this hurts.”

Michael’s face looked bruised now, too; the cut on the corner of his mouth wouldn’t stop bleeding. 

“It doesn’t hurt,” Michael assured, his voice low and calm. He let Gregory work, watching the boy carefully. The poor thing was going to be scarred after this whole ordeal, that’s for sure—if not physically, then mentally. A sudden dark, vicious bubble of rage swelled within at this thought.

Yet another innocent child corrupted by his father’s madness. If not for William, Gregory wouldn’t be in this dank basement performing first aid on his synthetic robot friend. He’d probably be at home, playing video games or working on coding some new technical marvel.

Although, Gregory had run away for a reason… but even that place would be better than here.

Mike closed his eyes, chasing away this line of thought. Regardless of where Gregory was, he knew deep down in his soul that no one was going to love this kid more than he, Freddy, and Charlie did. Yes, they might have indirectly led him into danger multiple times, yet they always made sure Gregory was safe in the end.

“Alright,” Mike said once Gregory tied off the gauze and slipped it back in his pocket. He wiped another trail of blood off his chin and stood, holding out the hand from his non-injured arm to Gregory. “Let’s get out of here. I’m sure Freddy and Charlie are waiting for us.”

Gregory nodded and returned a forced confident smile, reality setting in that if Michael wasn’t there, he would’ve certainly died this time. He lifted himself up, using Mike’s hand as leverage before clinging tightly around his waist.

“I’m glad you’re safe, Michael.” Gregory punctuated this with a sniffle. Even if he was really the one in danger, Gregory couldn’t be more appreciative that he now had someone in his life willing to risk themselves to protect him. Those lights of admiration stuck around in his gaze long after they exited the area with Roxy’s twitching, bifurcated body…

***

When the lift doors to the elevator finally opened, it was apparent Freddy and Charlie had the same idea to go down and look for their friends. Upon seeing the gore splattered on Gregory’s cheek and shirt, not to mention the state Michael was in, Charlie gripped her hair in stress.

“Golly gosh—what the hell—” Charlie at least tried not to swear as she looked on to her friends.

“We’re fine,” Gregory insisted dryly, taking a long and smooth breath.

See? He didn’t even cry this time.

Everything was just… numb. Did that mean he was getting stronger?

Charlie looked down at Gregory worriedly, hands moving to cover her mouth, then pull at the collar of her shirt. In rare form, Charlie had been rendered speechless.

“Are you sure?! You are covered in blood, Gregory!” Freddy exclaimed, looking more distressed than he’d ever been.

“It’s mine—don’t worry,” Michael said, releasing Gregory’s hand so the bear could fret over his son. Mike looked to Charlie, giving her a tired smile which unintentionally reopened the cut in the corner of his mouth. He wiped the red liquid away with the back of his hand, letting out a short, hollow laugh. “I guess we do have blood in us, huh?”

Freddy of course conducted a health scan of Gregory, paws fluttering around the boy uselessly for a moment until he determined the extent of his injuries. Thankfully, the gash from Roxy’s claws had stopped sparking and was now just a less hazardous but unnerving open wound of exposed wires in Freddy’s arm. True to the boys’ words, Gregory was completely unscathed. The red stain on his shirt was not real blood, and any scratches from the wreck and subsequent fall were surface level.

“Thank goodness you are safe!” Freddy exhaled unnecessarily in relief, pulling Gregory in for a tight hug. He looked to Michael over his shoulder, blue eyes full of utmost gratitude. “Thank you for protecting him, Michael. I… I do not know what I would have done if—”

“Say no more, Freddy,” Mike cut him off gently. He cracked a grin, finally relaxing somewhat now that Freddy confirmed the kid was truly okay. “I told you he was safe with me, didn’t I?”

Holding tightly onto their resident papa bear, Gregory forgot his troubles for a moment. There was no need to worry about Mike; when the man stood up completely fine, he figured there hadn’t been any huge internal damage.

In the spirit of trying to keep things light, Charlie pulled her jacket sleeve down over the heel of her palm and begun to wipe Michael’s face clean of the fake blood. It seemed that this trend of cleaning up Mike’s rough and tumble injuries would continue throughout their immortal lives.

“That’s actually really metal,” Charlie mentioned, unafraid to don the green jacket again despite its now alarming blood stain. “My dad must’ve thought of everything when making these things…”

Gregory was busy nuzzling his face into Freddy’s shoulder, his troubles nearly forgotten as he explained: “That clown guy—Ennard? They ended up saving us…”

Charlie gave Michael a look, followed by a nervous chuckle. “Guess Ennard does love you, in a weird way…”

Michael could only grimace at this, recalling Roxy’s blood-curdling pleas as she was systematically torn apart. At least Ennard had the sense to spare Gregory from the sight of it all, though their violent strength only left Michael to wonder for the billionth time how the fuck he’d survived that thing living inside his body for a week… However, he’d learned long ago that some things simply aren’t meant to be answered.

“They ripped her to shreds…,” Michael eventually clarified with a light shake of his head. “I think we can safely say Roxy’s down for the count now, too.”

“At least our goal was accomplished,” Freddy said, lifting Gregory into his arms. He did this without thinking, just wanting to keep his son close after such a traumatic event, but by the way Gregory folded into his embrace to rest against his chest like it was the comfiest spot in the universe Freddy knew he didn’t mind.

Chuckling softly, he ran a claw through Gregory’s hair, then frowned when a plethora of dust came away in a little cloud. Glancing down at the stained shirt, then to Michael who was now essentially wearing a ripped-hem crop top, Freddy suggested: “…Perhaps we should stop by the gift shop and get you both some new clothes.”

“I don’t know—” Charlie chuckled, deciding to poke a little fun at her friend. “—that’s a very bold fashion statement you’ve got going on there, Mike.”

But of course, there was the matter of getting Gregory properly clothed now. Surely having that sticky red substance on his chest wasn’t comfortable.

“You need a new jacket, Charlie,” Gregory pointed out, adrenaline giving way to exhaustion as he chose to relax without protest in Freddy’s cradle. Periodically, Gregory would pluck and hold the bloodied shirt away from his chest as Charlie pondered this.

“I want to see what hoodies they have,” she remarked somewhat excited to be able to look for clothes. It was one of those things she never thought she’d miss until her soul was rearranged into a Puppet. “Let’s go. We can get Gregory a treat for being so brave.”

Charlie decided it best to treat her pseudo-brother with relative sensitivity. He wasn’t delicate, though to her it seemed his psyche was wearing thin from the violence he’d now become accustomed to.

“Maybe they have some cool retro shirts…,” Michael thought aloud, following alongside Freddy as the bear began to walk. He tugged at the tattered hem of his current top with a small sigh. “I’m forever grateful to Uncle Henry for these bodies, but this outfit is not my style."

Freddy chuckled at this. “I am sure they will have something that suits you—and if we cannot find anything to your liking on the main floor, we can check in the stock room.”

“Yesss!” Michael cheered quietly, pumping a fist by his side.

Maybe it was the fake-blood loss, or simply the high from nearly watching his new brother get turned into a fleshy pancake on a go-kart roadway, but as they walked to the gift shop Mike almost felt like a kid again. His best friend and his brother were going with him and his surrogate dad to the store, where they’d do some shopping before returning home for the evening. It was a surreal thing, for Michael to feel like he had a family again after all this time. Gregory and Charlie would never be replacements for Evan and Elizabeth, but the connection Michael had with them was just as strong—and Mike was doing his damndest not to mess these relationships up like he’d done for all the others in his life.

And then there was Freddy, the animatronic bear that was the most paternal figure Michael had come across in literal decades. A slow grin spread across his face as he remembered the kind-faced body waiting patiently for its consciousness down below. When Gregory and Freddy found out, Mike had a feeling they were going to lose their minds in the best kind of way.

Charlie couldn’t deny that she was excited to find new clothes. The ones her dad picked out were nice, the dated feeling of the 80s style familiar in a way that tugged at her heartstrings. Thankfully, in the Pizzaplex there was no shortage of things from that era. Looking at the newer “retro” fitted clothing lines that Fazbear Entertainment released had only driven Charlie to find more just like it. Her first grab was a loose fitting tie-dye shirt. In the middle was a classic Freddy face, giving a wide open smile. It made her wonder if they were trying to make it intentionally look like a Grateful Dead t-shirt and decided she liked it.

“Whoever’s designing these needs a raise,” Charlie announced, throwing it over her forearm along with a pair of high-waisted skate shorts. On the left leg was an embroidered patch of the Fazbear gang, simplistically stitched with bright, saturated characters.

Gregory felt the same as Michael as they began their little shopping trip, even if neither spoke their feelings aloud. While Charlie dug through the racks for a stylish hoodie to match her new outfit, Gregory clambered inside the rack. He'd always do this on the rare occasions his foster family took him out—only he meant to stay hidden from them. This time was merely for kicks. Having trouble finding something he liked, Gregory decided to poke his head out and get Michael's attention.

“Hey, Mike? What clothes do you normally get?” he asked, trying in a coy fashion to emulate his sense of style.

“Uhhh…” Michael stalled at the question, hands poised to shuffle through a display of shirts on the wall. He hadn’t worn anything but tight-fitting uniform work clothes for years, simply because they were functional for both his job and keeping his body in place. He also hadn’t actually gone clothes shopping in a long time—not since the magic of the internet allowed him to have things delivered right to his apartment, saving him a trip to the store where he’d be met with curiously suspicious glances.

He tried to cover up as much as possible, but inevitably one person would take it upon themselves to be the crowd’s spokesperson, walking up to Michael and asking in a not so subtle way if he had a contagious disease that caused his unusual pallor. Mike couldn’t count the number of times he’d simply told them he was a flesh-eating zombie who’d come to feast on their brains, then promptly left the store never to return. Even if no one but him understood the joke, it was still good to find humor where he could… though unfortunately his sense of humor got him banned from half the department stores in his city.

But back to Gregory’s question. The boy wanted to know Michael’s fashion preferences, and with a grin he replied: “I only get cool stuff, of course—you know, ripped jeans, leather jackets… Ooh, and rad shirts like this one!”

With awestruck eyes, he pulled a shirt from the back of the rack and held it up to the light. It was a loose-fitting tank-top that looked like the sleeves had been ripped off, leaving jagged edges in the turquoise fabric. The whole thing had a weathered, grunge sort of feel, and printed smack dab in the center was a fully colored decal of Glamrock Foxy’s grinning face.

“That's perfect for you, Mike,” Charlie pointed out, gently pulling Gregory out from the cover of the clothing rack, clearly feeling nostalgic since walking into this themed store. “You wanna be like this dummy and wear muscle shirts during the winter, little man?”

She remembered Henry telling Mike he’d get sick from being so cold, but for the longest time that style was all Michael would wear. Gregory thought being able to withstand the cold sounded pretty tough, because he was in search of something similar. He nodded, then dashed off towards the juniors section. When his search turned up empty, he instead went back towards the young adults’ area to look for something like Michael grabbed.

It was clear to Charlie that Gregory wanted to dress like Michael, and she found it endearing. She noticed a black muscle shirt with a Foxy-themed Jolly Rodger, finding it's toned down design cute. The skull had been replaced with a smiling foxy, and the bones crossed beneath were slices of cheesy pizza.

“Hey, Gregory, you should get this one,” Charlie urged, tossing him the shirt to go try on.

“This one's real rad!” Gregory said, using the slang he'd heard not five minutes ago before running off towards the changing rooms.

Michael was already in a stall when he heard Gregory’s speeding footsteps go into the one next door. Slipping off his old shirt, Mike did a quick 360 in the mirror to make sure there were no hidden injuries from the crash that’d come back to bite him later. To his relief, it seemed like his arm was the worst of it, though thanks to Gregory’s surprisingly good first aid it'd stopped actively bleeding. The cut on his mouth had stopped too, and as Michael looked closer he was shocked to see that it looked like the skin had almost healed itself back together… Just another question for his increasingly long list of things to ask Henry the next time they saw each other.

After slipping on the new shirt, which matched nicely with the dark-wash jeans this body came equipped with, Michael stepped out of the changing room at the same time as Gregory.

“Hey, nice pick!” he praised with a laugh when he caught sight of the boy’s new shirt, holding up a hand for a high-five.

“Really?” Gregory asked, slapping the palm of his big brother’s hand.

Freddy had been watching this whole display of course, and he couldn’t stop smiling. It warmed his heart to see the pair bonding like this—it was obvious that Michael cared a great deal for Gregory, and Freddy was thankful his boy was warming up to Mike as well. His prediction that they’d become an inseparable duo seemed to be coming truer by the minute.

Charlie squeezed behind them, closing the door to get changed—another daily ritual she’d have to get used to again. By the time she came out, Gregory was fixing his outfit in the mirror. The long hem of his t-shirt was half stuffed into the front left side of his cargo shorts, keeping the pockets clear for easy access to his things. As Charlie exited the changing room, she snatched a snapback cap from the back of the door. The pink hat with a pizza embroidered on the front had been a collectors Chica item, something Charlie wouldn’t mind stealing for herself.

“You ready, Charlie?” Gregory asked, spying her in the floor length mirror.

“Totally; let’s bounce,” she replied holding her hand out for him to take. When Gregory ran to grab onto her, she felt her heart melt. She never had a little brother, so this experience was new. She ate up the attention Gregory showed her, and in turn looked out for him.

“Let’s goooo; I want ice cream!” Gregory called to Freddy and Michael, happily walking besides Charlie. With three of the most dangerous animatronics gone, tonight they could relax. And Gregory could pretend their lives were normal for a few sweet hours.

“Ice cream?” Freddy repeated, falling into step beside Michael, who chuckled and patted him on the back.

“Charlie promised him a treat and you didn’t say no, so… looks like that’s what we’re going for,” Mike explained, to which Freddy nodded in understanding. Michael then leaned in close, whispering so only Freddy could hear: “Where’s the bakery? I think an ice cream cake with blue icing is just what he needs, don’t you?”

Freddy gave a soft laugh, recalling the group’s conversation in the diner. It seemed like so long ago, but in reality it hadn’t even been 24 hours since then...

“Follow me, everyone!” Freddy announced, picking up the pace until he was able to take the lead. As Charlie and Gregory began to follow, Michael moved to Gregory’s other side and held out a hand. When the boy readily grasped it, Mike beamed down at him before turning a raised eyebrow to Charlie. Silently, he jerked his chin downwards, and as one they hoisted Gregory into the air, letting his feet dangle a few inches off the ground. His weight was still nothing compared to their robotic strength, and based on his shriek of laughter he didn’t seem to mind the lift at all.

“Gregory,” Charlie voiced inquisitively, lowering him back to the ground as she asked “When’s your birthday? I keep forgetting to ask how old you are…”

She was already thinking of ideas for celebrating his special day. Between Charlie and Mike, they didn’t have the best track records with birthdays, and she was determined to make sure Gregory’s was something great. Plus, Charlie had simply grown to love throwing parties.

“I’m twelve!�� Gregory chuckled. There was no further elaboration, which in turn confused Charlie. Before she could question him further Gregory gave their hands a firm squeeze and asked in a sweet voice she couldn’t refuse: “Wait—lift me up again?”

Michael obeyed Gregory’s request as well, giving Charlie a half-shrug as he met her gaze over the kid’s head. He was curious too, but birthdays were still a sore spot for him even after so many years; he certainly wasn’t going to push Gregory to explain himself if he didn’t want to. Maybe Freddy would be able to coax the information out of him at some point…

A few minutes later, the group concluded their blessedly animatronic- and night guard-free walk to Chica’s Bakery. The diner theme continued in this restaurant, and Freddy instructed the group to get settled in one of the bubblegum pink booths as he ducked into the back to retrieve Gregory’s treat.

The pristine vinyl seats were a safe haven. Chica's Bakery looked to be Chica's Party World inspired in its patterns and color pallete—pastels with a few neon mixed in to really draw the eye in against eggshell white backgrounds. It reminded Charlie heavily of Fredbear's Family Diner, and she closed her eyes in a sigh as she slid into one of the booths.

Falling in besides Michael was his little brother. If Charlie squinted, Gregory was already becoming a miniature version of her best friend for life and beyond. A loving homage to his saintly protector in grunge clothing.

On one side of the booth near the wall, there were sugar packets for the coffee menus. In an act of giddy delirium, Charlie experimentally ripped one open to sample its contents. She wanted to see exactly how realistic these androids were.

When Charlie felt the sensation of sweetness on her tongue for the first time in ages, her eyes widened in pure shock. Hell, her pupils even dilated even from the simple sugar rush.

“Mike—dude, put this in your mouth. My dad's a freaking genius!” Charlie exclaimed. Somehow, she registered that it was sweet. The granules may not have melted on her tongue as fast as they would for a normal human, yet somehow she could taste them.��As Gregory swiped the half-spilled packet from Charlie’s open palm, she found herself laughing out: “No, Gregory, not the straight sugar—”

“Hey!” Mike exclaimed in mock offense, more concerned with the sugar being snatched away from him than Gregory actually eating it. With a playful shove, Michael pressed Gregory into the plush seat back of the booth and reached over him to grab a packet for himself. Ripping it open, Mike leaned his head back and tipped half the contents into his mouth. His eyes widened as the sweetness washed over his nonexistent taste buds, and he promptly poured the rest of the sugar down his throat before Gregory could take it.

“Holy shit!” Michael murmured once the admittedly overzealous amount of sugar crystals had dissolved. Realizing what he said, he quickly slapped a hand over his mouth and threw a furtive glance towards the back kitchen. To his relief, Freddy was too preoccupied with his task to hear him, so Mike settled back into the booth with a grin.

“…Don’t tell your dad I said that,” he felt the need to remind Gregory, as if the kid would store this incident in his memory for potential ammo against him later. “Anyway—yes, Uncle Henry's amazing! I can’t believe we can actually taste stuff!”

Back in the kitchen, Freddy was staring down at the perfectly written cursive adorning a deathly-sweet treat. Unsure of what flavor to pick, Freddy had opted for Neapolitan ice cream encased in a fluffy, vanilla cake. The whole thing was slathered in white icing, and Freddy had added a simple border of puffball-shaped drops in electric blue that just so happened to match the lightning bolt on his chest. The bear had also taken it upon himself to write a message on the cake, which he was currently reading over to make sure it was absolutely perfect before he presented it to the eager group outside.

Charlie leaned back, laughing at the two of them as they interacted. Between Gregory actively trying to put himself into a diabetic coma and Michael swearing in front of him, it felt like she was hanging out with him and Evan again. Still, she didn’t think of Gregory as a replacement by any means, regardless of the similarities.  

Upon spying Freddy carefully toting the icy confectionery treat, Gregory practically stood out of his seat with a gasp.

“Guys, look!” he exclaimed in surprise. “Look what Freddy has!”

He shouted as if unable to put together words to match the joy he felt in that moment. Charlie looked to Freddy, pretending as if she didn’t already know the plan.

“Oh man—is that what I think it is?” she goaded, urging the excitement she saw bubbling behind Gregory’s eyes.

Charlie loved this; it felt nostalgic in its own right. Like a little private party they would throw for friends while hanging out at the dinner. Little celebrations just because they could…

When the cake finally reached the table, Gregory stood on the seat to glance at the message written in perfect script on its surface.

“Well, well,” Michael murmured, leaning back against the booth with arms crossed in front of his chest, a slightly smug grin tugging t the corners of his mouth at Gregory’s obvious excitement. “Seems that bear knows you pretty well already, huh?”

“Here you go, Gregory,” Freddy said with a beaming smile, setting the cake down with the practiced flourish of having done so hundreds of times. His soft gaze swiveled over the trio before ultimately settling on Gregory—the cake itself might be for him, but the intent of the message was for all of them. In fancy blue script were three simple words that encapsulated everything they’d been striving for these past few nights:

Welcome home, superstar!

Gregory had eyes fixated on the cake. As Charlie retrieved a spoon for him to feast with, Gregory could feel something wet rolling down his cheeks. The ice cream beneath the perfect blue icing tasted smooth, chilling his lips and staining them with its rich dye. Undaunted by the warm flow of water coming from the corners of his eyes, he thanked Freddy through a cold, grinning mouthful: “Thank you, Dad!”

This was it. This was the best cake he’d ever have. There likely wouldn’t be a need to taste another in his life, because no cake would be sweeter than this one.

***

Previous Chapter ~~ Next Chapter

Looking for more? Check out the Chapter Masterlist on Tumblr!

Or check out the entire Wires that Bind Us Series on ao3!

[redlegend-a]

Once, Eternatus was moving rocks along the shore of Kanto. As sirens wailed in terror, it shifted claws and spoke ambling whispers to transfer conceptual to concrete. So then, it looked, and it saw the Watchful disposed to it, approaching upon the back of a swift Rapidash that galloped toward its spot along the coast.

" O' WATCHFUL MINE, YOU HAVE COME! I AM MOVING THIS ROCK TO PLANT SOIL, SO I MIGHT GROW A NEW FOREST HERE. "

The great talons waved, and an eruption of trees ripped from the ground, towering redwoods that arched hundreds of feet into the air. The forest grew thick and Dark, unchecked deepwood that was the truest diversity of life. Then Eternatus turned to the Watchful, and it said:

" BEAR THIS WITH ACUITY, O' WATCHFUL MINE, FOR I GRANT IT IN SOLEMN DIAGESIS. "

Then Eternatus gave Red a young Goomy, and its body was heavy with metal flecks.

" I HAVE CHANGED THIS CREATURE TO BREATHE THE AIR OF THIS MODERN WORLD, AND IT WILL SPREAD A CARPET OF LIFE ACROSS MY NEW FOREST. YOU WILL ENGENDER IT TO MODERNITY BEFORE THEN, O' WATCHFUL MINE, AND SO MEANWHILE I WILL SHIFT THE OXYGEN OF THESE FORESTS TO OPPOSE THE TOXINS OF KANTO'S ATMOSPHERIC STRANGULATION. "

The young creature burbled, eyes drifting around aimlessly.

" I ENTRUST YOU WITH THIS, O' WATCHFUL MINE. DO NOT DISAPPOINT ME. WE WILL GARDEN BEFORE THE FOOT OF THE "

The small, lovely little mucus creature was dropped into Red's arms, heavier than he expects, during an event he was certain he was not meant to witness, but was witnessing anyways. Red's head rang with the words destined for the small baby and him, he guesses.

This is one of those events that the very sight of it awes him, but makes him absurdly numb. He can't even wrap his head around it.

I won't disappoint you.

He feels the shell of the creature inside its protective coating, and beyond the shell, it hums under his fingers and syncs to him. It's like a click in the back of his mind. The infant monster bubbles up with joy and delight, and he barely catches it when it leaps out of his arms and "BWAHS".

Welcome to the team!

[kyndaris]

Whole Again - Part 1

This short story is a sequel to one I wrote a couple of years back. called Splintered. During that time, I was struggling with a lot of things including the fact I never truly presented my whole self to others but only certain facets.

I've come to realise, however, that just because I don't bring my whole self into a conversation doesn't mean it's a fake personality I've conjured. It is still me.

There is a time and place for everything.

While not everyone may appreciate Chaos Gremlin Kyndaris, maybe some others will. Then again, there is Work Kyndaris and Eager Gamer Kyndaris. Dutiful Daughter Kyndaris and Exhausted Caregiver Kyndaris.

Humans are multifaceted. In this day and age where we try and label everything, is it any wonder so many are trying to seek their 'true selves' only to stumble because they've not realised the whole of who they are is a complex contradictory mess?

So many things have been relegated to black and white, it's become impossible to see the nuance of who people are.

With that, I hope you enjoy this first part of my short story: Whole Again.

Life as I knew it changed when I graduated from Seven Oak High. At college, there was a whole new host of challenges I needed to weave my way through and I realised the old masks I’d worn to get me through high school were no longer fit for purpose.

Gone was mean-girl queen-bee Trish. Her actions and behaviour wouldn’t have worked under the watchful eye of the sorority den mother in charge of my dormitory.

Pat, on the other hand, stepped up to fill the void. But instead of being the meek and dutiful student and daughter, she had taken on several more facets of who I was. There was a new spring to her step. A confidence that exuded from putting my hand up for several campus causes.

Suddenly, everything was all new and fresh again and I had to adapt once more.

From the remains of Pat and Trish emerged Patsy.

No longer was I a leader so much as another cog in the fight against oppression and the patriarchy. All the energy I poured into becoming Queen Bee was now put into healthier pursuits as I railed against a slew of social injustices.

And yet a part of me still missed hanging out with my friends, Naomi and Evangeline (although they both ended up going to different universities than me), I was still a version of Trish. But this time I could let my guard down a little. Show off a little bit of the real ‘me’ lurking beneath the mask I had worn.

They deserved it, after all. Especially after the pain and terror we had all endured at the hands of Amelia last year.

After all, if it hadn’t been for the Evangeline and her boyfriend, Michael Sanchez, there was every chance I might not be standing here at all.

And thus, Tricia was born to serve as a dorkier and less catty version of Trish. Tricia was about having fun, with a focus on nostalgia.

Was it what Amelia had wanted for me? No. But given that she was in a juvenile detention centre and mandated to see a court-appointed psychiatrist every week to deal with whatever was wrong with her, I doubted her opinion mattered much.

Not that she put much stock in therapy.

In her mind, she was the least crazy of us all. Rather, it was the entire world that was mad as we catered to society’s expectations of who and what we were. Better, she had told me while holding a knife, to be our truest and authentic selves. Whatever that meant.

The first time I’d visited her at the detention centre, she hadn’t seemed surprised when she came out. Rather, there had been a knowing smile on her face as she sat down. We stared at each other for a few minutes.

But as I struggled to find the words I wanted to say, Amelia motioned to her guard and whispered something into their ear. Before I could stop her, she had risen to her feet and left.

I was left sitting at the table, alone. And for the longest time, I didn’t know if I wanted to leave or stay. Hell, I didn’t know why I’d come to see her in the first place.

Maybe I wanted closure. Or maybe I wanted to see the person still haunting me in my nightmares and know she couldn’t hurt me anymore.

Whatever the reason, I was left with a roiling churning maelstrom of emotions in my gut. None of which I could decipher.

In the end, one of the guards had to escort me out.

Still, despite that, I came to visit her again. And again. And again.

Amelia was a mystery. One I wanted to solve.

From all accounts, before the incident at her old school, she had been just like me. Except, perhaps, more outstanding. She was smart, athletic and didn’t shy away from the arts either. She was a triple-threat student.

But something had happened in the summer of 2018. One that had seen her thrown out of her prestigious school and enrol at Seven Oaks High instead. The word on the street was it was an altercation with another student though the details were hazy.

What kept me up most nights was the fear I might turn into her. Or a version of her.

The fear and anger and hurt I’d repressed all throughout middle school and high school had coalesced into something frightening. I wouldn’t call it a personality exactly. Nor was it a facet of who I was. Not really.

Just an impulse. A voice in my head wishing ill on others or asking me to do something cruel and mean and demeaning.

It sometimes came out as Trish, but only if I ever felt threatened.

Trish, as a mask I wore, was created from an amalgamation of mean girls from teen movies. The stereotypical queen bee who often got their comeuppance by the end of the film. She was meant to be all bark and no bite. A harmless stereotype most people forgot because it wasn’t who I really was and nobody at Seven Oaks High really cared much for.

Except, of course, Amelia had brought out a side of me that was petty and jealous and actually hurtful because I couldn’t stand how effortlessly she made friends with any and all cliches. There was no artifice to her.

She was everything I wanted to be but couldn’t.

And that was why I hated her.

Or I would have if, by the third time I’d visited her, the façade she had of being above it all hadn’t begun to slip. Behind all the bravado she had projected during my first visit, Amelia was scared.

She knew she had done something wrong but she hadn’t quite grasped the extent of her actions.

Still, even though I could be more ‘myself’ when I was with Evangeline and Naomi, it was with Amelia I could truly be the entirety of Patricia.

“So, tell me about college. What are you studying? Doing anything fun?”

“There’s not much to tell. Just a lot of courses and assignments and projects. I’ve signed up to help protest sexual harassment on campus and I’ve joined two clubs, one’s acapella and the other is about climate change.”

“How typical of the overachiever.”

“You’re one to talk,” I scoffed. “How are things in here?”

“Same old, same old. Although, there was this other girl that was giving me the side eye last week. Said I’d taken her towel.”

“Did you?”

“Well, yes. I did. But she wouldn’t have known that. I returned it, cleaned and everything. She should have been thanking me. Her towel was filthy.”

“That’s not the point, Amelia.”

“Oh, then what is, Patricia? Should I have done the socially acceptable thing of pointing out her towel was filthy and she needed to wash it?”

“No, but—”

“Fine. Next time I’ll play nice and not say a thing. Wait until they notice how disgusting they truly are.”

“Amelia…you know what? Forget it. This isn’t why I came to visit you.”

“You sure you don’t want me to regale you all about juvie life, Patricia? You come here so often, one would think it’s the sole reason you come and see me here. Or do you relish seeing me behind bars?”

I rose to my feet. There was no sense in talking to Amelia when she was being contrary.

“It was good to see you, Amelia. I’ll see you next time, yeah?”

“Leaving so soon? Was it something I said?”

“Amelia, I don’t have time to play these games. Not today. I’ve three assignments to get through and I’m helping out at a fundraiser tomorrow.”

Something shifted in Amelia’s face.

A flash of fear or disdain or something else, I couldn’t tell. She opened her mouth, perhaps to say something, but thought better of it. Instead, I felt the weight of her gaze on the back of my head as I left the correction facility.

I couldn’t help but wonder if she had known the lie on my lips.

~

It was a struggle to remain awake as the professor droned on about the basics of supply and demand. Head propped on fist, I stifled a yawn and looked over at Sonia, who seemed enraptured by the subject matter, as she scribbled down notes. Sonia and I were roommates and shared three classes. We’d become fast friends, bonding over a shared love for the online game Honkai: Star Rail.

While Sonia was an avid gamer, I’d been drawn to the space-themed fantasy role playing game because of the artwork. And the fact many of my online friends had been effusive about both Star Rail and its predecessor, Genshin Impact. It had been easy to get into. And almost impossible to get out of.

Amelia might have said I’d been trapped. But it didn’t feel like that for me.

The world of Honkai: Star Rail was one I loved. Especially when coupled with the awesome characters found therein.

It was freeing in so many ways.

In a world of pretend, I could be whoever I wanted behind the username I used.

But Honkai also had its hooks in me simply as a fan of the series. Without even meaning to, I’d bought a plushie of one of my favourites when I’d spied them in a store. It now sat on my bed, next to my pillow. A guilty pleasure I allowed myself because I knew Sonia wouldn’t tell.

“Patsy, you look like you haven’t been paying attention,” said the professor, looking right at me. I flushed and desperately looked around, hoping there was another Patsy or Patricia in class he was referring to. But the professor merely shook his head as he pointed to me. “Come, come. This isn’t anything hard. And I’m not trying to single you out. But since you were caught daydreaming, I’ll need to make an example of you. Who knows, if you did the readings I’d set last week, this shouldn’t be too hard either. So, tell me, what is the umbrella term for the various macroeconomic theories and models of how aggregate demand influences economic output and inflation?”

I scrambled for an answer; racked my brain for anything I could offer.

This was something I knew because I had read the readings from last week. Yet, being put on the spot like this, all I wanted to do was fade into the seat underneath me. Vanish into the great unknown.

Sonia leaned in. “—nesian—” she whispered to me.

What? There wasn’t an economist named Nesian to the best of my knowledge. Had I missed something?

For a moment, I blinked dumbly at Sonia then turned back to the professor.

God. Why was this so hard? Think Patricia, think!

“Um, Keynesian?”

The professor let out a sigh. “Yes. That’s right. Sonia, next time, I’d appreciate it if you let Patsy answer on her own, hm?”

Sonia sank in her seat, the tips of her ears burning red. The professor waited a moment before turning back to the blackboard and resuming his presentation.

As I listened to his speech, I wrote a quick note in the top left corner of my notebook, ripped it off and slipped it over to Sonia. She barely glanced at it, still traumatised for being caught out by her favourite professor, before pushing it back in my direction, an apologetic look in her eyes.

Shit. My brief lapse in concentration had cost Sonia everything she cared about. I’d have to make it up for her.

Right after I helped the Climate Change Committee with their placard signs, printed off posters for the ‘Sexual Harassment on Campus’ rally and a bajillion other projects Patsy had signed herself up to. Patsy, of course, was a real believer in human rights and social causes. She also kissed up hard to the professors when it came to her studies. When it came to friends, though, Patsy sometimes did let them down.

But she was the mask Sonia knew best. With a side serving of gamer chic.

Still, it was no excuse. I’d find a way to properly express my remorse before next Friday night. Which, of course, was when Tricia had scheduled a late-night karaoke session with Naomi and Evangeline to catch-up on all the hot goss around town. And to also let my hair down after a gruelling two weeks of assignments.

The queen bee of Seven Oaks High still needed to partay!

Still, all of this juggling between masks was exhausting.

There were days when I wished I didn’t have to pretend to be something I wasn’t. Or, at the very least, hide away parts of me that didn’t fit with the image people had of me.

And it made me want to explode.

Despite my attempts to quieten the voices, they seemed only to get louder and louder and louder with each passing day.

I wondered what might happen if I kept trying to shove my round self into a square hole. Wondering if it would last.

Movies and social media had forced us all into one pigeonhole or another. Popular girls were stereotyped as mean. The protagonist was always the ugly duckling who was actually beautiful once she underwent a makeover.

But the whole of who I was couldn’t be contained in one label.

Could it?

I was pulled from my thoughts as the hour ran out and the professor dismissed the class. Gathering my belongings, I was right behind Sonia when a voice called out to me.

“Patsy, could you stay behind for a minute, please? There’s something I want to discuss with you.”

I froze. Sonia looked back at me, a look of concern on her face.

“Go,” I said. “I’ll catch up with you back in the dorm.”

Frowning, Sonia gave a nod of her head before she headed down the corridor and vanished around the corner. I turned back to face the professor, steeling myself for the reprimand that was sure to come when the last of the students trickled out.

But it never came.

“Sir?”

Professor Langley heaved a heavy sigh, running a hand through his thinning brown hair. He flashed me a weary smile. “Patsy, this isn’t easy for me to say but I’ve been meaning to talk to you for a while now.”

“Is it about my studies? Because I can do extra credit or—” I started, scrambling to figure out what it was I had done wrong.

“Oh, no. Patsy. It’s nothing academic. Which is why I struggled with bringing this to your attention.”

“Okay?”

“Patsy, do you happen to know a girl called Amelia Cardum?” asked the professor, a sheepish look on his face.

A cold shiver went down my spine at the mention of Amelia’s name s I stared up at Professor Langley, wide-eyed with horror.

How much did he know? Was he somehow related to Amelia? While newspapers weren’t forbidden from printing names, the journalists had kept it lowkey. Even when it came to reporting the trial, no-one had been identified and I’d appeared only via teleconference.

The professor couldn’t have known of my connection to Amelia. Could he?

“Judging by your gaping mouth, I assume I’ve hit the nail on the head with that assumption. Listen, Pasty, you’re not in any trouble. It just so happens, though, that Amelia attended my cousin’s high school.”

What Professor Langley said next was forgotten as my mind scrambled for a way to escape. To sink into the ground. To defenestrate myself. Or combust into flames.

His next few works caught me off-guard.

“—my cousin with nary but a slap on the wrist. The fact you were almost killed—”

“Sorry. What?”

Professor Langley stopped and searched my face for something. “This was a mistake. I apologise for overstepping. Forget I said—”

“No,” I said, grabbing hold of his arm. “It’s just, when you mentioned Amelia, I didn’t know what to think. I was scared you were going to judge me for something out of my control. It’s…still a touchy subject.”

“That’s understandable, Patsy,” said the professor, nodding emphatically. He leaned in towards me. “My cousin is still very much shaken after what happened to her. But I’m sure your experience was much more harrowing. It’s just…well, I’ve heard Amelia has a parole hearing later this month. And I would appreciate if you could be there, say a few words. She might have been a minor at the time but there’s something wrong with the girl. She’s evil incarnate. And she can’t simply get away with this anymore. Don’t you agree?”

  It took me a moment to grasp the implications behind his words.

But while I knew where he was coming from, I couldn’t agree. There was a part of me that pitied Amelia. Who still saw a part of myself reflected in her.

She might be troubled and out of touch with reality, but she was also the person who had seen into my very soul. A dark reflection of who I could be if I made the wrong choices.

“I…can I think on it, professor? This isn’t something I can decide on right now.”

Professor Langley straightened. “Of course. This is a hard ask, I know. My cousin was also reluctant to step forward too.”

“Would it suit to give you a reply next week?”

“Yes, of course. There’s no pressure. None at all. But, Patsy, I’m glad we had this talk. Amelia is a monster who destroys everything she touches. And my family—” Professor Langley stopped, something almost like sorrow darting across his features.

“I know,” I said, flashing him a weak smile.

He returned it in kind. After a beat of silence, I headed towards the door.

As I slipped out, I glanced over my shoulder and caught a parting glimpse of Professor Langley, slumped in a chair near to the lectern, an unreadable expression on his face as he stared up at the ceiling.

Not for the first time, I wondered if I had done the right thing when it came to Amelia.

~

“What’s on your mind, Patricia? You’re unusually quiet today.”

I blinked up at Amelia, seated across from me. The only thing between us was a sheet of protective glass.

“Sorry. I was just thinking about my mother. And then all this additional work I have to do.”

Amelia was silent for a few seconds as she looked me in the eye. “Don’t bullshit me, Patsy. Spill it. What’s really going on.”

Fuck. I should have known I wouldn’t have been able to trick her.

Fine. If she wanted to play this game, I’d give it as good as I got. “Okay. You got me. Why didn’t you tell me about the parole hearing?”

The question seemed to catch Amelia by surprise as she raised her eyebrows. “Where did you hear that, Patsy? Were you sticking your nose in things that didn’t concern you again.”

“You’re evading, Amelia.”

“No,” said Amelia, slapping an open palm on the protective glass. “I just want to know the little snitch who told you I was going up for parole.”

“And lose out on my ear to the inside?” I said. “Hell no. You’re not the only one who gets to hold all the cards here.” Did she know I was lying through my teeth?

Amelia slammed the receiver down and stood to her feet. She stayed that way for a good few moments before she sat back down and picked up the receiver again. “Well, if you really want to know, I didn’t tell you because I didn’t think I’d get out. Fact of the matter is, I did something bad according to the unenlightened folks in charge and, if it was in their power, they’d keep me here until the day I died. Not that I’m complaining. I get free food, a bed and some people to help get through their childhood trauma and open up their eyes to the truth.”

“You’re evading again.”

“No. I’m not.”

Silence stretched between us as I plucked up the courage the one thing I’d wanted to ask ever since I’d got to the correction facility earlier in the day. “But, if given the choice, would you want to leave Amelia?”

She snorted. “Of course,” she answered with barely a pause. “None of the people in here get me. They posit theories of what’s wrong with me, never knowing that there’s nothing wrong with me. My mind is whole and I know who I am. The more pressing question is how well each of these psychiatrists know themselves or the work they do. I often wonder if even a single one of them knows what the DSM-5 is.”

“What’s a DSM-5?”

Amelia looked at me as if I’d grown a second head.

“What? I really don’t know. It’s not as if I’m studying psychology,” I said defensively.

“But you’re thinking on taking on a science major, aren’t you?” asked Amelia, arching one eyebrow.

“Yeah. Like microbiology or chemistry. Human behaviour follows certain patterns, true, but there are always exceptions. At least with hard science, you know everything will follow the rules. And if it doesn’t, there’s an explanation. A new rule to be discovered. But humans? They’re too contrary. They make up their own rules.”

“Do you really believe that, Patricia?”

I hoped my pointed stare would be enough. Out of all the people I knew, she was the one exception. I’d never seen anyone be able to belong to every single group in high school and none at all. More than that, Amelia seemed to stand above us mere mortals. As if she was another race entirely.

Her mind was a labyrinthine mystery, simple and complex in equal measure.

There were some days when I felt almost a kinship to Amelia. Where I felt I could understand the alien creature before me. Then there were days where Amelia felt completely and utterly unknowable.

Nevertheless, I was drawn to her in a way I couldn’t quite understand. There was a part of me her words spoke to. A part of me that scared the living daylights out of the other personas I’d carefully curated over the years because it fed off the chaos.

And it was this part of me I swore to keep squashed down for I feared where it would lead me.

“Yes, Amelia. I do,” I said finally.

My answer was met with silence. When it became almost unbearable, I rose to my feet.

“Anyways, I’d better go. It’s been a long day and I’ve a lot on my mind.”

As I was about to put down the receiver, Amelia tapped the window to gain my attention and mimicked holding a phone. I put the receiver back against my ear. Her voice came through, sounding almost strained through the connection.

“Patsy. If you’re thinking of attending the parole hearing, let me give you some advice: Don’t.”

~

Lying on my bed at home, I stared up at the ceiling. It was easier to stay at home than go back to the dormitory when I visited Amelia at the juvenile detention centre. Besides, it was the weekend. And Sonia was off catching up with a friend from Minnesota who had come to visit.

What had Amelia meant?

Did she fear I would finally see sense and refuse to visit her? Afraid the words of others would finally sway me to see the light?

But given she had tried to kill me during our final year at Seven Oaks High, I doubted there was much that could be said to persuade me she was a danger. I already knew she was. And yet I still came back.

There was just something about Amelia that I couldn’t quite shake. No matter how many times I promised myself I would stop.

Beside me, my phone buzzed with a message. I picked it up, watching as it unlocked by scanning my face and opening to the last thing I’d been looking at. The DSM-5. Or The Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders. Supposedly, it was the be-all and end-all when it came to diagnosing ailment a person might be suffering from when it came to mental illness.

While it was still a hefty tome, sitting at over 900 pages, it still boggled my mind that the entirety of the human mind and experience could be distilled into it.

It just didn’t seem right. Or possible.

My phone pinged again, pulling me from my thoughts. I glanced up towards the notification.

Naomi: herd u in town? Evie wants 2 go out. U good for 7?

The offer was tempting. A chance to let my hair down after that talk with Amelia?

Yes, please.

And if I could get away with a little underage drinking, why shouldn’t I? Having to deal with Amelia would give any sane person a headache at the best of times. A part of me wondered if she did it only to seem complex and above the petty concerns of us mere mortals.

In any case, it was something I didn’t want to deal with right now. Especially given what Professor Langley had said earlier in the week.

Maybe it was something I could raise with Naomi and Evangeline? Surprisingly, the two of them could be quite prescient when needed.

I clicked open my messages and sent through a confirmation. Naomi’s reply came but a second later.

                Naomi: k, will come pick u up at 6. c u soon. xoxo

Smiling, I rose from my bed. I only had a few hours to get ready.

~

“Patsy, a word, if you would?”

Sonia quirked an eyebrow at me as she hovered near the exit, wondering if she ought to go ahead to her next lesson or wait up for me.

“I’ll be fine,” I mouthed at her. She nodded hesitantly before heading off. As the rest of the class petered out, I joined Professor Langley at his desk, waiting with my hands behind my back.

“So, have you given some thought to what I asked you last week?” he asked, barely looking up from the papers he was grading.

“I did.”

“And?”

“Um…I’m still not sure,” I answered. “I don’t really want to be involved in all this. And after…everything, I don’t want to relive it all at the parole hearing. The trial at the end of my year in high school was already terrible.”

At this, Professor Langley looked up sharply. Moments passed in heavy silence as he scrutinised my face with his piercing blue eyes. Finally, he put down his pen.

“I completely understand where you’re coming from, Patsy,” said Professor Langley. “My cousin, after all, was also reluctant at first.”

“Then—”

“Listen, Patsy, why don’t you take a seat.” Professor Langley gestured to the chair in front of his desk. As soon as I sat down, he continued, “The thing about Amelia is that she gets into your head. She got into my cousin’s head. Made her start wondering if any of this was real or not. And my cousin, well, she went down a very dark path until me and her parents were able to pull her back out again.”

“I’m so sorry—"

“No, Patsy. There’s nothing you need be sorry about. This is all Amelia’s doing. And take it from me, I just want to keep you safe. So, if you feel like you can’t attend the parole hearing, I completely understand. But if you could find it within yourself to maybe write a victim impact statement, I can help. It’s just…I don’t want anything bad to happen to you, you know?”

“No. Of course not. I understand.”

“Good. Good,” said Professor Langley. “Well, I suppose that’s it, then?” He rose to his feet and stuck out his hand out for me to shake.

I took it.

“See you next class, Patsy. And, um, if you ever want to talk about anything, just reach out.”

“Yes, of course.”

The silence hung between us for another awkward beat or two before I grabbed my things and hurried for the door. Thankfully, I didn’t have class immediately after or I would have been a good thirty or so minutes late.

Instead, I headed back to my dormitory, thoughts awhirl with what had just transpired with Professor Langley. As I entered my rooms, I was greeted by Sonia.

She jumped up from her bed as soon as the door creaked open.

“Patricia! I got so worried about what Langley wanted with you, I thought I’d wait for you here.”

“What about your next class?”

Sonia shrugged. “It’s not so important I can’t take some time out for a friend,” she said with a smile as she patted the bed next to her.

I sat down beside her, unsure of how much to tell her or if I should. Maybe if I came up with a lie about why Professor Langley wanted to talk to me? But what would work without it seeming like I was up to no good?

There were rumours already on campus that a few students were sleeping with their professors to get good grades. I didn’t want to be another statistic. Especially given how hard I worked to eke out my place here at college.

As I opened my mouth to speak, even as I was still figuring out what I wanted to say, Sonia cut me off. “I just want you to know that I’m here, Patrica. For anything and everything. Whenever you feel ready.”

“I…thank you, Sonia. It means a lot.”

Sonia nodded. “Well, it better.” Before I knew it, she’d caught me in an embrace.

For one brief instant, I felt completely and utterly seen. Sonia had been there for me through thick and thin since the start of college. To her, I was simply her roommate. More than that, I was a person with all the flaws and strengths such a thing entailed.

Even if it was the Patsy persona I’d carefully.

But it was enough. Right?

Patsy was enough. Right?

Before I could put a rein on my emotions, I could feel myself beginning to hyperventilate.

Sonia held onto me tighter but it only served to make me feel claustrophobic. Before I could break out into tears, I pushed her away. “Sorry. I just need a moment to breathe,” I said, dabbing at the wetness at the corner of my eyes.

“Are you sure?”

I mustered up a fake smile as I rose to my feet. “Yes. Sorry. You just took me by surprise and then the whole thing with Professor Langley earlier, I guess I’m just a little bit emotional. But thank you, Sonia. For being here for me.”

Sonia smiled up at me. “Always, Patricia. Always.”

~

I was one of the last to slip into the court along with a journalist from the local paper. Thankfully, neither Professor Langley or Amelia noticed as I took in the seat in the back and whipped off my sunglasses. Professor Langley I understood as he whispered fervently to a woman about my age. His cousin, perhaps?

But Amelia? Usually, she was so sharp. Or maybe that was how she wanted others to perceive her. As the smartest person in any given room.

Here, though?

Despite her attempts to try and look strong, Amelia looked nothing more than a little lost girl who was finally out of her depth. As the judge took his seat and brought the court to order, Amelia looked only at her lawyer and her face a little wan. There was no-one else she could rely on, after all.

None of her family had chosen to attend.

Much like when the case had first gone to trial. And according to Amelia, not a single one of them had come to visit her while she was being held in juvenile detention. Not her mom. Not her dad. Not even her younger sister who Amelia said she was closest with.

The hearing dragged on as the judge made a show of going through the documents that had been submitted.

As always, Amelia’s expression was inscrutable. I couldn’t tell what she was thinking as reports of her poor behaviour whilst held in detention were read out.

One story stood out to me.

In a dispassionate voice, the judge outlined an incident where Amelia had stolen a fellow inmate’s towel. But while Amelia had blown it off as an anecdotal event, here, the full story was told.

Amelia had taken the towel the day after an altercation between the inmate in the prison cafeteria. The guards had witnessed Amelia calling the other girl several crass insults including a ‘slut-whore pig who needed to be taught manners.’ And while Amelia had returned the towel, it had been under threat of solitary confinement. The towel, in question, had been returned as torn pieces and stained with a foul-smelling liquid.

Then there were the psychiatry sessions where Amelia either proved bullish, refusing to engage with the therapist, or broke down sobbing in the room as a manipulation tactic to garner sympathy.

Listening to it all, I couldn’t help but feel sick.

When she had tried to kill me during the end of senior year, she had said the two of us were alike and that the only thing holding me back was my inability to be authentically my ‘true’ self. But I had to wonder if any of her words held any truth to it.

This woman before me: did she even know who she was or what she really wanted?

And as I watched her performance up in the dock – for it was a performance – I came to realise the complicated weave Amelia had created to hide away her true self. Everything I knew, from the talks we shared to the person she presented during her time at Seven Oaks High had all been an act.

And she, like every good liar, had even managed to convince herself that this was who she was.

For so long, she had pushed me to embrace who I really was. Yet, all the fucking time, she’d been putting up a front to pretend she was a puzzle box waiting to be solved instead of the broken and lonely girl that she truly was.

It made me angry.

But it also made me sick to my stomach.

I’d been as like a puppet to her, dancing always to the tune she played.

She had wanted to keep me confused. To always be second-guessing myself. And to see her as the only one with all the answers when instead, it had all been fucking bullshit!

What made it all the worse was the fact I’d fucking let her.

As one of her solicitors raised an objection, I sharply rose to my feet. A few heads turned in my direction but I only had eyes on Amelia as I made my way past the journalists and exited the courtroom. Fuming with indignation.

~

It was an old photo sometime between Amelia’s sixth and ninth birthday. She was hiding behind a lamppost Her hair was long and lanky, and the clothes she wore were tacky at best. In the foreground, her parents and sister were posed for the camera in Halloween costumes.

Although I had performed a cursory search online on Amelia back when she had first attended Seven Oaks High, I’d mostly been focused on why she had chosen to attend Seven Oaks High.

After the trial, I’d been tempted to uncover more of Amelia’s secrets online but had worried I would only find details of her attempt on my life. Or see my name featured in some news article.

In school, there had been several unsavoury rumours I’d overheard in the cafeteria. Back then, I’d dismissed them. Especially because I hadn’t been able to find much of anything when I did a cursory online.

But some had whispered Amelia’s expulsion had been a lover’s tryst gone wrong. Others had said I was the one who had tried to kill Amelia instead.

And if those were the rumours in school, I feared the misinformation that would have spread online.

But after scouring the internet and searching through any and all social media accounts for one Amelia Cardum, I finally stumbled upon an Instagram account for a Belinda Cardum nee Gains. Investigating further, I also uncovered her LinkedIn and Facebook profiles.

Lo and behold! A photo from the distant past with Amelia lurking in the shadows and watching on with envy.

I don’t know what it said about her as a person.

Maybe she was simply the jealous sort and hated how she wasn’t the centre of attention. Or perhaps, when the photo was taken, she had simply suffered a bad day and she was throwing a tantrum.

It was more telling that this was the only photo of Amelia I’d managed to find despite endless hours scouring social media. Despite being friends with her mother on Facebook, she was never tagged on any posts. Her profile picture, as well, was a default image from the old Microsoft Windows user account pictures.

But that was little to go on considering she kept everything private.

Clicking back to her mother’s profile, all the photos I could find were either related to food or of Rose, Amelia’s younger sister. The most recent photo, posted just last week, was of Rose. She’d won a medal from a swimming competition for under 16s.

I leaned back in my chair.

Who was Amelia really?

Despite all the time I’d spent with her, I still knew so little about who she was. There were too many contradictions. She was both charmingly naïve and a vindictive sadist. Intelligent and yet also out of her depth.

There were just so many layers.

How did one go about unravelling it all?

Or perhaps, none of it was an act. All of it is Amelia at her core. Unstable though it may be, whispered a dark voice in my head. And true, that too was also a possibility.

I had a feeling Amelia was a girl at the end of her rope. She knew she had done something terrible. But whether or not it had sunk in properly was still up in the air.

It explained why she seemed so standoffish when I asked her about the hearing. In her head, perhaps, Amelia felt she had been in the right. Most people did.

And though I was loathe to admit it, I was a bitch in high school. I’d been so utterly jealous of Amelia. So consumed with the thought of destroying the perfect image she had of being able to so smoothly navigate the various cliches with ease. It was something I wished I’d been able to do even as I clung to my status as Queen Bee with Evangeline and Naomi hanging onto me as the vapid sycophants of my posse.

Heck, I didn’t even know why I’d gravitated towards them in freshman year.

Naomi wasn’t very popular. She was pretty but could be casually cruel without meaning to. And every boy within a five-mile radius wanted to bang her.

There had been an altercation in the cafeteria where one of the other students confronted Naomi about sleeping with her boyfriend. I’d stepped in before it had come to blows. Looking at Naomi’s wide-eyed wonder, I couldn’t help taking her under my wing.

Evangeline, on the other hand, was a mess. She wanted to look like the models in Playboy magazines and was always looking up beauty gurus on Tiktok or YouTube. Unfortunately for her, she had two buck teeth and parents who couldn’t afford to have it fixed.

Over the years, though, she made it work for her.

And the three of us came to dominate Seven Oaks High during our four years there.

As I very much learned, being Queen Bee was all about projecting confidence and manifesting one’s own popularity. Anyone could do it with the right mindset.

For me, that came in the form of Trish. I’d moulded her from every single resource I could find because I couldn’t face another four years of being teased for all the things I actually liked and cared about. When I was Trish, everything else was suppressed. She was my mask. And my protector.

Without her, I doubt I would have survived.

More importantly, though, through Trish, I learned of another part that comprised me as a whole. I learned that I did like hanging out with Naomi and Evangeline even though they weren’t the brightest people around. I learned I didn’t always have to be the straight-A perfect student I thought my parents wanted me to be.

And I learned it was okay to let myself have fun.

It was something the old Patricia – the one who had become Pat – would never have allowed. Or thought possible.

Amelia, though, would have probably said it was all ‘fake’ and I needed to strip it all down until I was the raw unvarnished version of me. But what Amelia didn’t understand was that this wasn’t the entirety of who I was either. It wouldn’t be the whole me either.

My time at college had also shown how people could change.

By trying new things and going through our lives, we grew. No longer was I insecure about who I was. I could be freer to be closer to my true self with Naomi, Evangeline and even Sonia.

But Amelia wasn’t me. And I wasn’t her.

She had thought she had found a kindred spirit, but I was more than the clone she was trying to make me into.

I shut off the browser, sicked to my stomach that I’d wasted so many hours trying to research Amelia to figure out who she was. Once more, I’d played right into her hands. This was what she wanted me to do. Professor Langley, too, could forget about asking me to provide a victim impact statement.

The last thing I wanted to do was dwell on Amelia Cardum for a moment longer.

I had a life to live.

~

“Patsy, I would like a word,” said Professor Langley as I was packing away my belongings.

“I actually have something on afterwards, sir. Could this not be an email?”

“This won’t take long,” replied Professor Langley, shutting down any further protest.

I exchanged a look with Sonia. ‘What do you think he wants?’ she mouthed at me. I shrugged. After my decision to cut Amelia Cardum out of my life, I’d tried to avoid Professor Langley as much as I could. The way he acted as soon as her name was even mentioned felt like a man obsessed.

Even though Amelia hadn’t ruined his life, or had tried to murder them at the bleachers, he seemed intent to keep her behind bars for the entirety of her sentence. It made me wonder what Amelia had done to his cousin. He’d alluded to a few things before but hadn’t exactly stated outright what had happened.

I’d seen a young girl seated next to him at the parole hearing. At the time, I’d thought it was the cousin in question but I wasn’t so sure now.

“You wanted to see me, sir?” I said, swinging my backpack over my left shoulder.

“Ah, Patsy. Yes. Why don’t you take a seat?”

“Um, no. I really do have something on later. I’d like to stand. Sir.”

Professor Langley’s brow furrowed for a brief moment, his lips thinning, before he flashed her a smile. “Why, yes. That’s fine.”

“Thank you, sir,” I said. Bag over my shoulder, I waited for Professor Langley to continue. He didn’t disappoint.

With gusto, Professor Langley began. “I know you said you didn’t want to be involved but I thought I’d give you an update on the parole hearing for Amelia Cardum. You see—”

“Sir, whilst I thank you for keeping me in your thoughts, I would prefer you not mention her name in my presence. I’ve decided to move one and no longer wished to be reminded of what had proved a most harrowing time during my final year in high school.”

“Yes, that’s a very understandable sentiment. But what I wanted to tell you is that we’re going to see her locked up for a very long time. Just like she deserves.”

“Why do you care so much? She didn’t hurt you. Not directly, at least.”

Professor Langley’s cheeks flushed red. “Patsy, there’s no need to be so aggressive. Don’t you want the same thing? Amelia ruined your life, just like she did my cousin’s.”

“Maybe she did. Maybe she didn’t. I don’t want to think on it anymore. I just want to live my life and enjoy it again.”

“Don’t you think I want the same thing?” exclaimed Professor Langley, his eyes flashing dangerously. “I look at Nadine and all I can see is the broken girl Amelia left behind.”

I looked away, scratching at my upper arm. “Yeah, well…that’s not my problem.”

“Isn’t it? Did you know Nadine tried to take her own life six months after Amelia attacked her? She was hospitalised and her parents were shattered. And all Nadine would say about the event was that she ‘wasn’t living her authentic self.’ I ask you: is that fair?”

“No,” I said finally. “But what more do you want from me? According to you, she’ll be behind bars to serve out her sentence in full.”

At my question, Professor Langley looked askance. “It’s nothing important,” he said, playing with a pen on his desk. “Just, there were a few things that came to light during the parole hearing I wanted to clarify with you.”

As he looked up at me, there was something in his eyes I couldn’t quite place. As if he was seeing me for the first time in a new light. I didn’t like it.

Nervously, I readjusted my bag. “I’m really sorry, sir. But I really have to head off to my next class.”

“Yes, yes. I understand. But Patsy, think on what I said, yes? I’d really like to have a chat. Just you and me. Maybe over a coffee?”

~

“—freaking believe it? Like, he had no right to talk to me like that!”

“You go, Tricia! I hope you smack him upside the head next lecture,” said Naomi. She downed a second can of vodka spritz. “What a creep!”

“And he sounds like he’s super obsessed. Like, does he hate Amelia or does he want to, you know, fuck her?” asked Evangeline.

Michael Sanchez plopped down in the chair next to his girlfriend and kissed her on the cheek. He put down a bowl of chips. “What’s this about fucking cause Evie and I have been getting it on like rabbits. We’re going to have a huge family. Isn’t that right, sweetie?”

“Yes, that’s right, honey drizzle.”

I fought down the urge the vomit. Sometimes Michael and Evie could be far too extra for their own good. It was like they wanted to shove their perfect relationship down everyone’s throat.

It was nauseating.

But I managed to plaster a fake smile on my face as I said, “Oh, you know, my Economics Professor and She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.”

“Ah. Yes.” Michael nodded sagely. As he grabbed a chip and bit into it. “How is Amelia doing anyways?”

His question threw me off. I blinked stupidly up at him for several seconds, trying to compute what he had asked.

“What do you mean?” I said finally.

“You see her, don’t you?” answered Michael with a shrug. “My dad works at the juvenile detention centre she’s in. Tells me you visited her pretty often. I figured it was because you wanted to wrap your head around her actions or seek closure.”

I stared at him agog, mouth open wide, and unable to mount any type of retort.

Michael Sanchez, it seemed, was a dangerous man. And if I wasn’t careful, my whole life could unravel at the drop of a hat.

Naomi looked in my direction. “Is that true, Tricia? You’ve gone to see Amelia?”

I covered up my momentary lapse by snagging a chip and popping it into my mouth. “It’s just like Sanchez said. I wanted to understand what made Amelia tick. And what, you know, actually triggered that episode. It just seemed so extreme. You know?”

“Really?” asked Naomi, looking unconvinced.

“What else do you want me to say?” I grabbed another chip, popped it into my mouth and chewed. All the while, I stared dead at Naomi, daring her to challenge me.

Naomi was the first to look away, disgust clear on her face.

“Well,” interrupted Evie after several uncomfortable seconds, “I think we should all get something to drink, yeah? Naomi, want to come with?”

Before I could protest, my two best friends from high school hurried to the bar and I was left alone with Michael Sanchez. In the summer or so since graduating, the runt of the football team had filled out. Though his grades hadn’t been the best, he still managed to secure a spot at the local community college and was thinking of studying physiotherapy.

“So,” said Michael after the silence between us became heavy, “how are things at that special school you been going to?”

“Good. Great, actually.”

“Dating anyone?”

“No.”

“Shame. I thought you and Brad were good.”

“Yeah. It was nice while it lasted,” I said taking a sip from my already empty glass. “How is he, by the way? Brad.”

“Oh, he’s doing good. He’s looking to become a personal trainer.”

“That’s nice.”

Sanchez grinned. “Isn’t it? He’s just so motivated to have a good future and expand his horizons. I kinda envy him.”

“How are you and Evie going, by the way?” I asked.

Before Sanchez could respond, Evie and Naomi returned with four drinks in hand. They plonked them down on the table, none too gently.

“What did we miss?” asked Evie with a saccharine smile. She glanced at her boyfriend and I could see Sanchez squirm uncomfortably in his seat. Despite the affection they often displayed in public, I couldn’t help but sense there was trouble between them. That the lovey-dovey couple I was often tortured with was just a performance.

Much like how Almeria had been during the parole hearing.

The thought made my gut churn.

Why did it seem like everywhere I turned, people were always pretending? Why was no-one ever as authentic as they so claimed?

I hated it. I hated it with every fibre of my being.

Were Evangeline and Naomi even my friends anymore? Or were they pretending as they secretly gossiped about me behind my back?

It became too much.

There was a loud thumping in my ear. And not too far, I could hear the belaboured heavy breaths of someone nearby. It took me far longer than I expected to realise that it was me. By then, my chest had tightened, constricting until it seemed I could barely get any air in, and my vision darkened. I tried to fight it by rising onto my unsteady feet even as I kept a tight hold of the table.

Before I could even say something or reach out to anyone, the faces of everyone around me vanished into nothingness and I knew no more.

~

I woke to the flashing of red and blue lights, and the night sky above me. When I tried to sit up, to make sense of what was happening, I couldn’t. Something was holding me down. It sat tight across my chest and my wrists.

Fuck. What was going on?

Desperate, I tried to get up again, squirming to free myself from my binds. Even as something slimy came crawling up my throat.

It took me a moment to realise it was fear. Cold and dark and oh so frightening.

I didn’t know what was happening. I didn’t know where my friends were. And all I wanted to do was scream and cry and plead for someone to come over and help me.  

As if they had sensed my wish, I heard the rush of footsteps to my left. Dark russet entered my field of vision.

Naomi. It had to be Naomi.

I tried to say her name but I couldn’t seem to make my lips form the letters.

“She’s awake! Tricia is awake!” Naomi called over her shoulder.

There were more footsteps and then Evie and Michael Sanchez were crowded around me. Every one was talking at once and none of it made sense.

“Do you think she knows what’s happened?”

“Won’t attack me again, will she?”

“They’ve got her restrained, if that’s what has you frightened.”

“Yeah, but what if she can, I don’t know, hulk out? You know, like The Hulk?”

“Sanchez, are you still high? Evie, I know he’s your boyfriend but I’d rather you found someone with a few more braincells.”

I tried to process the cacophony of voices, taking deep breaths as I tried to centre myself. It looked like we were still near the nightclub but I was on a stretcher, presumably, to be taken to hospital. But besides the throbbing at my left temple, forewarning me of an incoming migraine, I felt fine.

“W-what’s going on?” I forced through chapped lips in a low rasp.

“Tricia…” Naomi turned back to me, some unknown expression flitting across her face. “What do you remember?”

Once more, I tried to sit up but was prevented from doing so. “I-I don’t know,” I said, licking my dry lips as I tried to recall the events of the night. “We were talking about things. How I was doing at college. And I think Amelia?”

I paused, waiting for Naomi or Evangeline to nod. They did so and I continued, drawing strength from a hidden reserve I didn’t know I had.

“You and Evie went to get drinks. Then, everything went dark. W-what happened? Why does Sanchez think I tried to attack him? And why am I being restrained?”

Naomi and Evangeline exchanged a look while Sanchez looked on, a diffident grin on his face.

“Well…” began Evangeline. “You staggered forward and Naomi caught you. And then, you started acting really strange.”

“It was like you were a completely different person,” added Naomi. “You immediately flinched away from me, started to accuse me of being a fake friend. Said you knew Evie and Sanchez were having problems with their relationship. Told us we were all pretending to be good people. It was all very hurtful, so Sanchez tried to confront you. But then you lashed out at him, almost managed to hit him with a glass.”

I listened to her recount with growing horror as a chill went down my spine.

“And then, I don’t know, you stiffened. Before anyone could stop you, you grabbed a toothpick and lunged for Sanchez. He ducked out of the way, of course, and then, I don’t know what happened exactly but you slumped down onto the ground and started twitching.”

“It was fuckin’ scary,” said Sanchez. “Thought you were goin’ rabid, you know?”

“I-is that why you t-thought I was going to ‘Hulk’ out?”

Sanchez scratched the back of his head. “Heard that, yeah? Well, I’m good to see you’re back to normal. But the paramedics say they’ll still need to run a few tests ‘fore they’re willin’ to clear you.”

“W-where’s my phone?”

“Here,” said Naomi, putting my iPhone into my right hand. “I called your mother earlier. Told her what happened.”

“Thanks.”

There was a moment’s pause before Naomi bent down over, her voice low as if she didn’t want Evangeline or Sanchez to hear. “Listen, Tricia…I don’t know what’s going on with you, but if you need someone to talk to, I know a good psychiatrist. You went through some mad trauma with Amelia. I mean, I’ve been seeing a therapist recently too, you know. Just to wrap my head round high school and everything else.”

I looked away. “I’ll think on it.”

“Cool,” said Naomi before straightening up. “Well, looks like the questioning is almost all done. Paramedics will be taking you to the local hospital. Message us later, yeah?”

“Okay.”

~

For the first time since high school, I felt overwhelmed. Burdened by the masks I still juggled in order to segment my life and give it some semblance of order. There were too many things to keep in mind, though Naomi and Evie had already seen shades of who I really was.

After all, it’s not everyday that the Queen Bee also manages to snag a 3.8 GPA.

As I stared up at the ceiling of my dormitory, after being released by the hospital, I couldn’t help but go over the events of the night two days ago. Something was deeply wrong, I felt.

Yes, I’d been irritated by how Naomi and Evie had kept pressing me about Amelia but I hadn’t expected to lash out as I did.

By all accounts, I had another persona lurking underneath the surface. A violent one that was willing to drag my friends down be it verbally or physically.

And it was that very fact keeping me up despite the late hour and classes due to begin in the next three hours.

I felt terrified. Out of control.

What if it happened again?

Could I, perhaps, turn into another Amelia?

The thought sent a shiver down my spine as I shifted to my side and tried to snatch a couple hours of rest before my alarm went off. Sonia, just a few feet away, continued to snore, blissfully unaware to the inner turmoil I found myself in.

Like every good friend, she had asked how I was when I returned late yesterday to our dormitory. Had said I looked haggard and tired. And because I didn’t want to acknowledge what the last 36 hours had been like, I’d lied. Had told her I was feeling stressed about the upcoming exams and had a bad panic attack while I was out.

Sonia had nodded, though the concern on her face remained.

“If you need anything, Patsy, just let me know,” she had said before returning back to her desk and putting her headphones back on as she watched a film on Netflix. It wasn’t one I knew though I caught a glimpse of Ryan Reynolds and Gal Godot on the screen.

Guilt had churned in my stomach. A part of me wanted to tell her everything. And yet I tamped down on the words on the tip of my tongue.

In the end, we had both gone to bed, pretending everything was fine.

But I knew Sonia didn’t believe me. And the thought weighed on me as I showered and put on my PJs. I turned our conversation over and over as I pulled the covers up to my chin.

And as I stared at the wall, it gnawed at my insides and leading me to spiral down old familiar paths.

Maybe there was something to be said about going to therapy. If it could cure me of the heavy anxiety weighing down on my chest, perhaps my life would be a lot better.

Yet, doing so would leave me exposed. Vulnerable.

It meant admitting something was wrong with me.

And that was untenable.

I’d prided myself for picking myself up by the bootstraps and reinventing myself while in high school to become the popular girl. All the while, juggling the expectations of my parents and the teachers. I couldn’t simply throw in the towel right now and mentally break down.

I was stronger than this.

After all, I’d survived an attack by a madwoman.

By that token, I was wonderfully sane in comparison. Yes, I was struggling to find my own authentic voice, but I was thriving member of society, able to converse with ease to just about anyone.

It didn’t matter that it was usually inane small talk and I couldn’t divulge many of my actual interests. Nobody truly cared about what Patricia wanted or thought about. And that was fine with me. I could be a chameleon. A jack-of-all-trades as it were.

And that meant I didn’t need medication. Nor did I need to talk to someone about non-existent traumas.

What I needed was a walk to clear my head and to refocus on the things important to me. And squash down on any stray musings as fast as possible.

Everything was going to be okay.

If I believed it hard enough, surely it would come true.

~

Things went from bad to worse as the semester dragged on.

Professor Langley continued to hound me about my relationship with Amelia. He wanted to know every little detail about my interactions with her during my time in high school and the details of her attack on me in the two weeks leading up to prom.

I hadn’t wanted to tell him anything until he started to threaten to fail me for being difficult.

 Fear had crept up my throat then.

In school, I was Patsy. I was meant to be smart and get good grades and be involved in extracurricular school activities like protesting climate change. But Professor Langley was threatening to upend all of that.

Finding it difficult to find the words I wanted to say to the professor, I’d exited the lecture hall, making sure to slam the door behind me, before hurrying to the nearest toilet. Inside a stall, I’d tried to calm myself from the impending panic attack threatening to seize me in its grip.

That was when I had my second blackout.

When I came to, I was out in the quadrangle near the library. People were staring down at me, none of whom I knew. One of them, a girl with short brown hair, took me to the health centre. She sat with me as I was looked over by a nurse before being declared I was fit and healthy.

It was only later in the week I learned someone had trashed Professor Langley’s car by puncturing the tyres and scrawling the word: Pedo Groomer on the windshield with black paint.

I knew then what had happened.

Despite Sonia’s best efforts to calm me down, I closed myself off. Even playing Honkai: Star Rail was unable to help get my mind of things.

My grades began to slip, feeding into my ever-growing desperation to maintain the façade I wore at college.

I was at my wit’s end.

As the weeks rolled on, I knew what I needed most were answers.

To figure out what was happening to me.

And the only person I could turn to was Amelia.

Although I’d sworn to disavow her, Amelia Cardum was now my only lifeline. Last I’d heard, she had been transferred to a woman’s prison after her application for parole had been rejected.

I would visit her during the weekend. Maybe confront her over the lies she’d told me over the intervening months to garner my sympathy. And discover, once and for all, who Amelia Cardum truly was behind the persona she projected, thinking it was the one I wanted to see.

~

Amelia sauntered into the room looking like she had all the time in the world as she approached the tempered glass screen separating the prisoners from the visitors. Gone was the demure frightened girl from the hearing. Instead, Amelia looked like she was in her element, if the smirk on her face as she reached for the receiver was anything to go by.

“Hello Patricia.” Her voice came through the receiver strong. “It’s been a while. But I always knew you’d come back.”

I frowned at her. “Don’t act like you know me.”

“Oh, Patricia, but I do.” Amelia smiled sweetly at me despite her gaunt frame and dark circles under her eyes. “So, how many blackouts has it been now?”

Fear spiked down my spine.

How did she know? Trapped inside a prison, Amelia shouldn’t have been privy to that information. Unless…

I schooled my expression, not wanting to let slip my real thoughts. But perhaps I was too late because Amelia continued, “You’re surprised. Probably questioning how I know. Rest assured Patrica, nobody has told me anything. I just know. Because you and I, we’re the same.”

“When did they start happening for you? The blackouts, I mean.”

“Middle-school. It became worse in high school. But when I was transferred to Seven Oaks, I learned how to control it. Want to know how?”

I stared at the woman before me, trying to spot a hint of madness in Amelia’s eyes, but I couldn’t find it. AlthoughI still remembered what Professor Langley had told me, I was desperate to seek any help I could get. And I knew Amelia held the answers I sought. “Tell me,” I said, finally.

Amelia leaned back in her chair. “I learned to accept who I was,” she said with a shrug. “No longer would I be beholden to the expectations society had thrust upon me. My first act, of course, was to take down all my social media accounts. I hated all the past photos I’d put up to play pretend at being the happy perfect girl I had been. I would finally live my truth. Just like you should yours, Patricia.”

“And what is my truth?” I demanded.

The knowing smirk on Amelia’s face stretched wider.

It was only then I realised I had fallen into her trap.

Instead of answering, Amelia hung her receiver back on its hook. She motioned to one of the guards and they came to escort her out and back to her cell.

“You can’t leave me like this! Amelia! I need answers! I need your help!” I slammed against the glass separating us with the palm of my hands, loathing boiling up inside me as my vision tunnelled until all I could see was her orange jumpsuit vanishing behind the cold steel door leading further into the prison.

[elvishdemigod]

I love MacCready, but this goes with him too. Spoilers, if you haven't tried getting his approval though.

At the final affinity chat, he tells you he had to make a split second decision between running with his very young son or trying the very low chance at saving his wife from feral ghouls, and feels bad he had lied to her about his profession.

"They were on her before I could even fire a shot. Took everything I had to run with Duncan in my arms." is his exact quote. He had to hear his wife's screams as she was eaten alive, running with a probably crying baby/toddler in his arms.

And then there's the line "Maybe it would've been better if we just died there with her?" Something like that. He's suicidal, probably even more so when saving his son now seemed like a wasted effort after Duncan caught a deadly disease that could kill full grown men (as Sinclair had mentioned a guy he knew died from)

And immediately after that, you can say "I was hoping what we had could be more than friendship?"

I love the idea of two widows who horribly lost their spouses and are now trying to save their sons ending up finding a new love with each other. But pursuing a relationship with someone immediately after they open up to you about losing the love of their life in a traumatic way, and admit they feel suicidal, and that you helped them just feels so predatory. Like you're using someone's emotional state to make them want a relationship with you.

Hel, when you successfully flirt, he says "I never thought of us that way!" He was never looking for a relationship, he was just happy to have someone he can trust. He even asks if you'd be okay with a relationship, being a fresh widow yourself.

There's already plenty of jokes about how fanfics writers can sometimes write better material than what's in the original. But when it comes to Fallout 4, that is one of the truest things ever. The fanfic I'm currently reading where Mac and someone's OC start off as trauma-bonding friends-with-benefits and become actual caring lovers is a lot better than "Oh ya, you heard the final breath of your wife being used for pain-and-terror-filled screams? Let's date!"

Whoever is the lead for writing the romance aspect needs to be replaced because some of the stuff just felt like you were using someone's emotional state.

I can’t bring myself to do any of the romance options in Fallout 4. Something feels creepy and predatory in the ones I have encountered so far and I absolutely hate feeling that way because so far I’ve had only female companions. But all of them feel like they are inexperienced, insecure, or vulnerable and that they are written assuming these traits provide openings to flirt with them. Is it because they were written assuming the male Sole Survivor would be the default person with interest in the female companions? Is that vulnerability a ‘signal’ to the men who wrote the game?

Some of them also come forth with their tragic backstories in a sudden way that makes me feel uncomfortable, too. Cait in particular with her high-risk behavior and drug addiction, casually tells you on her second friendship talk about being enslaved and implies she’s a rape survivor because she feels she ‘owes’ you for being nice to her. Is she doing this as another high-risk behavior, almost hoping she gets knocked down? Is the game smart enough to portray someone with impulsive decisions realistically? I can’t feel like I can trust the writing. Meanwhile you can build rapport with Cait quickly just by being naked. While there certainly are hypersexual people in real life, people with addiction and people who engage in high-risk behavior in real life, I feel scummy when I think about how all this leads up to a romance option. Even if you help her ‘recover’ I feel that I had an inordinate amount of power over her during a period in her life where she had little personal agency or could have easily been coerced.

I have a girlfriend of my own and I can say that insecurity, trauma, or inexperience are not very sexy. When we struggle with mental illness or general lack of confidence we put sexy things on the back burner to address maybe more pressing psychological needs.

[aquoteamusetheword]

J.W.

 “The true soldier fights not because he hates what is in front of him, but because he loves what is behind him.”

― G.K. Chesterton

Shepherd’s Cove Hospice, Albertville, Alabama - December 30, 2007,

My grandfather Rev. J.W. Thompson was coming to the end of his battle with diabetes. My grandmother, Lorene, had gone home to take a shower, swap out clothes and take a well-earned break from countless hours at his bedside.

We were enjoying the start of Alabama and Colorado squaring off in the Independence Bowl. After two early field goals Alabama added two touchdowns and had a 20 – 0 lead. Maybe first year coach Nick Saban might just work out after all.

A Hospice nurse (angels on earth) showed up to change the bandages on his feet. Diabetes wreaks havoc on the extremities and he had lost some toes.  When she left, I told him that I was so sorry about his toes. He then informed me that diabetes did not take the majority of his toes, frostbite in a wet foxhole during the Battle of the Bulge was the culprit.

The only other time I recall him talk about the war was at the release of Saving Private Ryan on VHS. A family member suggested we rent it because, “It’s the truest to life recreation of D-Day ever filmed”. My grandfather stated if it was anything like what he went through…he had no desire to relive those moments. I stated, “I can’t image what you went through during the war”. But now, for the first time, he began to talk about his experience in detail.

He did not speak of being drafted, having to leave my grandmother, or basic training. I wish we would’ve had had more time for those stories. He went straight to June 6th 1944, D-Day, with 40 other men on what he called a “Papa boat”. It’s also known as the LCVP landing craft. Its armored front door was protection from bullets and shrapnel, but it also segued into a ramp during battle. He told me the armored door was being pelted with machine gun fire as the boat bobbled up and down on the waves. The sheer terror of knowing that in short order the armored door was going to drop caused…well as my granddaddy put it, “If it could come out of a human body, it was coming out”. Men sick in every conceivable way, realizing what was to come.

The door dropped and they were jettisoned into hell. He cried as he recalled seeing his best friend killed right beside him and then being forced to use his body for cover. There is more, more atrocities, however this is all I am comfortable writing. Eventually the beach head was taken, when they reached the top only one other man from his troop survived. The French kept them warm and fed. But try as they might, no amount of lye soap and elbow grease could get the blood out of their fatigues. One of the happiest days of his life was seeing the planes dropping provisions. New uniforms, socks, skivvies and boots… halleluiah!

This alone would warrant a well-earned return trip home. But his time was not done, the remaining men were consolidated and assigned to new platoons. Eventually in December of the same year they were off to the Ardennes Offensive. This is where he lost his toes due to heavy snow and an average daily high of 20 degrees. Over 75,000 Americans lost their lives in the fives weeks of the conflict. In the end, J.W. Thompson and two other men from his platoon survived.

At his discharge the commanding officer inspected his record and exclaimed, “God has spared you for a reason…have you ever considered ministry?” Before that day he had not, after that day he did. Those words would not leave him. The rest is history.

Bama was up 27 -0 in the second quarter. At this point the pain medicine was kicking in and he was nodding off. As he slept Colorado started a furious come back. The Tide barely escaped with a slim 30-24 victory. My Grandmother returned and it was time for me to leave. She insisted on waking him up to say goodbye. His eyes fluttered awake and he asked, “Did we whoop em’ good son?”. I replied, “Yeah granddaddy, we whooped em’ good.” He passed ten days later.

Thank you, Father, for a night to remember.

John15:13, Luke 9:24, Proverbs 21:3

[thefalloutdiaries]

There is Something

There is something out there, in the dark. There is something that lurks out beyond the warm light of the stars in the cold reaches of the galaxy. It does not speak any known language, it does not trade or build great works. It simply drifts along in the vastness of the blackness that permeates the spaces between stars. If your ship encounters it, something will try to board it. If it succeeds, it will... change the crew. And the crew will return to their home port, flooding the bands with screams of truest, deepest terror. They will open fire with whatever weapons they have aboard, seeking to kill anything and everything they run across. They cannot be reasoned with, we don’t even know if they can hear us when we broadcast demands for them to cease fire, to prepare to be boarded, to quench their engines or be killed. So we kill these ships, and their crews, and every time we do we wonder what it is they saw. What happened to them? What could possibly have been done to them?

The answer, ultimately, is immaterial.

The light of faith had guttered like a candle in a cold wind in the centuries that elapsed since mankind slipped the surly bonds of earth. The blaze of faith that had once sent thousands to the afterlife and had kept millions more through trials that I cannot even conceive of, was just a low bank of embers. What need was there of faith out among the stars? Where humanity ruled supreme, where the only God was trade, the only hymn the hum of a ship’s engines.

But we had found our faith again. A common faith, a faith in mankind. A faith that taught that whatever tribulations were yet to come, whatever monsters that came crawling from the long dark, whatever disasters that would befall us, humanity would persevere. We would dig graves for the fallen, we would weep for our losses, and then we would shoulder our tools and go forth once more. Let the skies boil and the seas churn, let hideous things come to kill us from the black, we would not fail, and we would not falter. The aging Pontifex, his beard grey flecked with white, stood at the door to his cathedral and proclaimed a Crusade. A Holy War, a calling for men and women of all planets and all nations to set aside their differences, for there was a threat to humanity.

We answered the call. The Pontifex called, and we answered. It began as a trickle, a merchant captain who bid his crew with families go ashore and took those who remained with him. A pirate cruiser whose crew wished to die doing one thing right in a life of misdeeds. The crew of a battleship that all-but mutinied before they were given leave to come. Merchantmen purchased by collection plate. A thousand ships, from tiny little sub-light barges to massive fleet carriers and everything in-between. A thousand ships crewed by men and women of such courage and faith that I cannot but weep for it.

Humanity called, and we answered.

We don’t know what awaits us in the darkness. We don’t know what was found out there, that drove those crews to fratricide. We don’t know if we will live or die. What we know is this one simple truth. Humanity will endure. So my crew, my beloved crew, light the engines. Make ready the ship to supercruise, and say one last blessing over the guns. We are the clenched fist of mankind, we are the instrument of humanity’s fury, we are the Crusade of Man, and we shall know no fear.

[terrainofheartfelt]

how do you think alison would feel about blair (in a dan-is-dating-blair sense)? I think it would be funny if she absolutely loved he. Bbecause blair knows how to play a part but also alison would be like yes, she did terrorize my daughter, but she’s not Lily’s so…

oh this is a GREAT question

starting out, all of alison's intel about blair is definitely from jenny, so she would have that reaction of "that blair waldorf?" and she would be distrustful on jenny's behalf, but that conflicts with her really wanting to connect with dan and have him share his life with her. because since she left and he got mad at her for it, she tries painfully hard not to say anything that might push him even further away. because dan delivers the news with a very practiced air that says he doesn't much care what his mom thinks, but he actually does care very much what alison thinks. and he always will on some level. so alison is coming at the situation a little conflicted, she wants to be in her daughter's corner, but she wants to be in her son's too.

I imagine - once past the initial awkwardness - alison would like blair almost in spite of herself. alison isn't really all that excited about Society People to begin with, but blair when she's at her truest has this brash kind of brusque-ness to her that alison would find charming (and like we KNOW dan finds it charming already). blair could keep up too, alison is an artist and a film buff so they would have at least one thing in common even though neither of them would even expect it.

I can see dan and blair getting into one of their debates over the kitchen table in hudson, and alison knows exactly what they're talking about, and she goes, "sorry, sweets, I have to agree with blair on this one." and she's In.

and alison would see, too, how brighter dan is with blair, how blair brings him into focus. alison knows her shy, sweet boy, how he's always been happy drawing into himself, but blair can pull him into the present in a way that no other partner alison's seen him with can, not serena, not even vanessa. I think once she sees that, how good blair is for dan, how good to him blair is, alison would approve.