#our recovery would be Rough at best and unlikely to happen at worst

[lunarflare64]

Just took the bin out and there's this ants nest in front of our house right? Pretty big species, that common for Australia, not gonna get close to identify them though because again, Australia, we really don't wanna get bitten, but when we moved our bin guess what was under it! THE ENTIRE NEST'S BROOD PILE! AND THEIR QUEEN! GUYS WHAT THE FUCK THATS NOT A SECURE PLACE TO STORE YOUR MOTHER AND HUNDREDS OF THOUSANDS OF BABY SIBLINGS!!!

We thought the brood pile was a satellite nest at first, and the queen was just a major (look man, even though we're turning 24 this year our glasses still need to be updated yearly, we can't see shit rn. And we need bifocals so we cant see shit at any distance.), but when the bin was moved that definitely would have brought the majors out so that was straight up the main nest brood pile and the queen herself. What the actual fuck man.

Hopefully the brood is brought back into the actual-dirt-nest before the sun comes up, the kids in this area are assholes. The bin is gonna need to be kept out of satelite nesting range too, because we can't just let them think thats a safe spot to RAISE THEIR INFANTS! NOT EVEN INFANTS! THERE WERE EGGS! SO MANY EGGS! THOSE WERE FETUSES! EVERY STAGE OF ANT BABY WAS IN THAT PILE!

[imaginesmai]

Jace Wayland- W for Weak (2)

Some of you asked for it, so here it is. I hope you like it! Shout out to @holydream who was the first one suggesting this second part. You can find the first one here.

Plot: Jace’s focus is on your recovery and on the little black box he can’t seem to hide well enough

Alec cared about few things in life. His sister Isabelle who he would die for, his best friend Y/N who always dragged him into the best adventures, and his parabatai Jace who was his anchor. In less than two days, it seemed that he had lost two of them. Jace was the shell of the loving and funny boy he was once. He hadn’t moved from the medical wig since they brought you in, sitting in a chair and sleeping in an uncomfortable white bed. Everyone was worried about him; he didn’t eat, didn’t talk or smile, Jace Wayland was almost as silent as you.

And you, well, you didn’t wake up. Brother Enoch said that your body had taken too many poison and lost too much blood. He had taken away most part of it, yet your body was weak and it was unlikely for you to wake up. From all of them, Jace was taking it the worst. It didn’t matter if he wasn’t the one almost killing you or who sent the vampire after you; Jace was drowning in guilt and sadness.

-          Hey, Jace. -Alec entered the room, finding the blonde in the same place as always. -Clary made some carrot cake with Izzy. It’s not very good, yet it’s not poisoning.

Alec was met with silence, and he let out a soft sigh. His parabatai was sitting on the chair next to your bed, holding your pale hand and looking at your bruised face. The vampire who attacked you had managed to throw you so hard on the ground that he had broken your bone cheek, leaving you with a nasty bruise which Jace couldn’t stop looking at. The hand that wasn’t laced with yours, was holding the ring that Jace had been looking for so long. It almost worried Alec how hard was he gripping the box. Putting a hand on his shoulder, he spoke again.

-          You should eat something, Jace. It has been two days. Go to your room, try to sleep, take a shower. -again, Jace didn’t look up from your face. -Y/N wouldn’t like see-

-          Y/N would like a lot of things, Alec. -Jace said, his voice rough from being unused. -For example, the proposal I had planned or having lunch in her favourite restaurant. None of them are going to happen because she’s unconscious in a fucking bed.

-          Jace, you can’t-

-          You need to stop telling me what I should and shouldn’t do! -he interrupted him. -I really appreciate your efforts, guys. But I won’t be moving from here until she opens her eyes again.

Everytime he closed his eyes, imagines came to his minds. An scenario where you didn’t have a pulse where he found you. How, when he opened them again, you wouldn’t be breathing any more. If he heard a movement and he had his eyes closed, he thought the vampire was after you again, trying to finish what he started. Jace Wayland was scared to even blink.

Alec left eventually, giving up into making Jace say something more. After his sudden outburst, he went back to look at you in silence. He was worried about his parabatai, as everyone else was; his cheek’s were sharper, he had dark big bags under his eyes and his lips were dry and cut. Besides your bed, there were some plates with different foods, from a sandwich from Clary to some chicken from Isabelle: they were all untouched. The only thing that Jace placed into his body was coffee. Simon left a cup by his side the first day, and they watched as, for the first time, Jace moved his hand to get it. Since then, the brothers or Clary made sure he always had coffee in the table next to him.

While they worried about him, Jace’s mind was… chaotic. He played again and again the happy memories you two shared; the day you met, your first kiss, the pranks against the brothers… Sometimes, he got lost in a memory; he really thought he was living again that moment. Maybe it was because of the coffee or the lack of sleep, but it always ended the same way. Jace would be looking at you, enjoying the warmth in your smile when the right side of your cheek would darken slowly. Little bites would appear in your body then, but you wouldn’t notice them, neither would notice Jace trying to warn you about them; and he would have to stay next to you watchin as you bleed out to death. Then, he would wake up to find you still in bed, with that dammed bruised in your cheek that made his nightmares turn to live.

Jace must have zoned out again because, when he came back to himself with his heart-rate wild and his eyes teary, he wasn’t looking at the nasty bruise in your cheek, but at your beautiful eyes which were looking worriedly at him.

-          Baby? -your voice was nothing more than a whisper. -A-are you okay?

He blinked. Once, twice. Jace blinked at least four times, and opened his mouth like a fish out of the water. In the past two days, he had thought about what he would do when you woke up; hug you, apologise, kiss you, propose… Then only thing he did was look at you with a confused glance. He wasn’t the first one to say something; it was Izzy, who came into the room to look for his brother.

-          Alec, you need to come back -her eyes widened when she saw you awake. -Oh my god, Y/N! You’re awake!

-          Izzy. -you said as she hugged you, your body too weak to even make her stop. -Izzy, I can’t-

-          Yeah, yeah, I’m sorry. -she let out a giggle. -I’m so happy you’re awake, Y/N. I really thought I would have to keep your closet to myself.

Your eyes did not leave Jace as Isabelle talked about how happy she was for you. Even if you were fighting for staying awake and discovering what was wrong with your boyfriend, your eyes closed again shortly after you woke up.

-          Y/N? -Jace interrupted Isabelle. -Y/N, you okay?

-          Wh-oh. -Isabelle realised then that you were unconscious again. -Don’t worry, Jace, she’s fine, just tired.

-          Bu-ut she was awake? -he asked. -She was awake, right? I wasn’t dreaming?

-          Yeah, Jace, she was. -she put a comforting hand on his shoulders, watching as tears flooded down his cheeks. -She’s going to be fine again.

Jace let out a breathy laugh, taking your hand again between his and kissing it softly. He decided to believe Isabelle, and hope for you to wake up again.

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Your recovery was long and hard. You spent nearly a month in bed; you woke up some times, when your body was strong enough to give you your conscious back. Most of that times, however, you were too weak to even talk. Jace was still sitting beside you all the time, giving you soft smiles the first times and talking to you when he found his voice back. It was one of those days when your body hurt too much to even lift your head when Jace thought it was time to apologise.

-          What’s on your mind?

-          Hm? -he looked up from his feet to you.

-          You’ve been quiet today. -you said softly, smiling a little. -More than usually.

-          You don’t have to worry about me, babe. -Jace smiled too. -Do you want me to read to you? Or put on a film?

-          I want to know what are you thinking about.

It was silent for a moment, as Jace looked down to his hands. There, as always, was the little box with your ring. He had managed to hide it from you until then, yet he wasn’t sure how much time would it pass until he gave himself away.

-          When it happened, Izzy told me you thought I was cheating on you. -his voice was low and deep, full of emotion. -It was true that I spent too much time with Clary, I know. But I had a reason, and I wasn’t cheating on you, I swear.

-          Jace, I-

-          No, let me finish. -he interrupted you. -I love you so much, Y/N. You’re the only thing that makes me want to keep going. Just- you know, thinking that I gave you a reason to think I have been cheating on you… I-I

Making a big effort, you moved your hand to his cheek. Jace hadn’t noticed that he had started crying, and by then he was a mess of sobs. You didn’t say anything, because no words could lift the huge guilt Jace was carrying on his shoulders. You figured out the third or fourth time you talked to him; he wouldn’t meet your eyes, always worrying about what you might need and not leaving your side unless it was completely necessary. Between sobs and apologies as he gripped your hand for dear life, you saw the box. It was tiny, black and could easily go unnoticed. It would have if it hadn’t hit the floor with a loud thud. Jace was to busy drowning in incoherent words to notice it, but you did.

-          Jace? -you asked. -What’s that?

-          What? Oh. -he looked at it once and didn’t really pay attention; then, he realised what it was. -Oh! Th-that’s nothing! Nothing at all.

-          If it’s a new med, you can tell me. -you groaned. -God, I can’t believe they taste so bad.

-          Just a little longer, Y/N. -he got up and sat in bed with you, stroking your cheek. -Then you’ll be able to get that horrendous ice-cream.

-          Hey, it’s not that bad. -you laughed softly. -It’s better than mint ice-cream. You know why there is always so much? Because no one buys it.

-          Okay, that hurt. -Jace raised a brow. -Did you just call me weird?

-          We can be weird together. -you said, enjoying the smile at his face. -Maybe you could ask Magnus if I could eat some ice cream already. I’m sick of those soups.

-          Hey, better safe than sorry. -he winked. -But I will talk to him next time he comes, I promise.

-          I’m-I’m going to close my eyes for a bit, yeah?

Everytime you felt too tired or sleepy, Jace understood. He was the first one to tell you to rest, making sure people didn’t bother you too much. But it didn’t make you feel any better. After nearly all morning awake, you were starting to fall your eyes dropping.

-          Whatever you want, babe. -he smiled. -I’ll be here when you wake up, as always.

-          You don’t have to do that. Our room is much comfier than the plastic chair. I’ll be here for a while.

-          Then I’ll be here for a while too. -Jace said. -I’m not moving until you come with me, Y/N.

With a smile and a happy heart, you fell asleep again. You dreamed with Jace, with a world where you didn’t have to be worried about death and horrendous monsters that want to hunt you down.

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-          Just a little bit longer, come on. -Isabelle told you while she supported more than the half of your weigh. -Until the door.

-          I can’t Izzy, I can’t. -you let out a few tears feeling your knees too weak. -I-I need to sit down, for a second.

-          If you don’t push yourself for a little longer, you won’t-

-          Please, Izzy. I need to stop.

Isabelle scoffed and helped you into a chair, as you let out a shaky breath. A few days ago, Magnus thought your body was ready for a little bit of movement. It was still weak; yet if you didn’t force yourself a little, you wouldn’t be able to be a shadowhunter again. The first day you didn’t make it out of the medical wig before Jace caught your unconscious body in his arms before you fell and shouted to Magnus to hell and back. The second day, you made it to the door where you fell to your knees; and that day, you were trying to make it to your room.

But it felt impossible yet, even worse without Jace. He really wanted to stay with you; but he was still a shadowhunter, and had duties to attend. So you had Isabelle with you.

-          Do you want some water? -she asked, kneeling by your side. -Should I call Magnus? I think he’s with Alec but he won’t-

-          Izzy. -you gave her a small smile. -I just need to stop for a bit, but I’m fine.

-          I thought you could do it Y/N, I’m sorry. -you nearly winced at her words, and she realised that they were a little harsh. -I mean, you’re doing great! I-I just thought, you know-

-          It’s okay. -you interrupted her, and sighed. -Magnus says it will take time, but I didn’t think it would be this slow.

-          You were nearly dead. -she put her hand on your knee. -It’s like rebirthing, Y/N. You have to start over.

-          Yeah but-

Your words were cut off by the sound of the door at the end of the hall opening. Jace walked in with Alec, weapons stained with blood. As soon as his eyes met yours, you knew you were in trouble. He frowned and walked faster, arriving to your side and taking your face between his hands.

-          What are you doing here? And why are you so flushed? You’re-you’re burning, Y/N!

-          We were just walking Jace.

-          You walked here? -he sent daggers to Isabelle with his eyes. -Do you realise that this is fucking far from the med wig, right?!

-          She was fine! -she said.

-          She doesn’t look fine now, does she? -Jace turned his attention to you, smiling softly. -Hey, don’t close your eyes.

-          I really want to take a nap right now. -you said, feeling the energy leaving your body.

-          Yes, of course, yes. -he helped you up. -Come on, I’ll carry you to-

-          We could go to our room. -you shrugged, making everyone look at you. -What? I’ve been without the serum for a while, I can take it.

-          I don’t think that’s a good idea, Y/N. -Alec answered.

-          Call Magnus, ask him. -you leaned on your boyfriend. -Please, I just want to spend one normal night.

After calling Magnus, Brother Enoch and nearly every magic doctor Jace knew, he agreed on sleeping on your old bed. He scolded Isabelle for nearly an hour, screamed at every person he found in his way while he took your toothbrush from the med wig, and mumbled under his breath about being responsible and a good friend; then, he laid in bed with you.

You had almost forgot how good was laying in a proper bed with Jace. He wasn’t only a walking heater, but also soft as a cloud. You didn’t know if it was because of the lotion or because of his skin; Jace Wayland was soft as cotton. And most of the times you had to physically stop yourself from rubbing against him like a kitten. Not like he didn’t know your intentions.

-          When I get older, will you love me the same?

-          What kind of question is that? -you frowned, looking up to his face.

-          I mean, old people have harsh and rugged skin. Between the wrinkles and the skin drying out because of the sun, I won’t be as soft as I’m now. -he joked. -Will you love me then, or are you with me just for my soft skin?

-          I was planning on skinning you alive and making a pillow. -you laughed. -Your skin is just so soft, baby. Like, I don’t think even a baby can be this soft.

-          A-are you comparing me to a baby?

-          A beautiful blonde baby? Yeah. – you said, running a hand through his scrub. -I’m saying that, instead of a boyfriend, I have a cute baby by my side.

-          Wait until you get better, babe. -he winked. -I’m gonna show you I’m far from a baby.

Between laughs and jokes, finally the conversation died down. Your tiredness disappeared when you were between his arms, and you talked about his day. Jace was telling you something about nearly finding Magnus and Alec on it when you saw the box. At first, you didn’t recognised it; but then, you remembered how you had seen it already. That time you suggested it was some medicine, and Jace didn’t prove you wrong; neither right. The more you looked at it, the more intrigued you became. Until you couldn’t hold it anymore and interrupted your boyfriend.

-          What’s that box? -you said pointing it.

-          O-oh. -he let out an awkward laugh before moving a little and putting in behind a photo of the two of you. -Nothing important, Y/N. I’m keeping some shit for Alec. Or Magnus. Yeah, there are some herbs in there. Type of shit he smokes.

-          Magnus doesn’t smoke? -you raised a brow at him. -I saw the box a while ago, it was in the medical wig. What’s inside?

-          I’m telling you, there’s nothing to worry about. -he moved around uncomfortable.

-          Then can I see it?

-          No! -he said too quickly.

Your eyes widened and then saddened; and Jace felt like the worst person in the world. You two hadn’t really talked about what happened before the attack, but he felt he was doing the same thing again; hiding something from you in the wrong way. He had been thinking about giving it to you sooner, yet he didn’t find the right moment. However, no moment would be perfect if he kept hiding things from you. He was a terrible liar, and he was really tired of lying.

-          I got it a while ago. -Jace whispered, and you nearly missed it. -Before, you know, things happened to you. I’ve had it with me all time.

-          What have you gotten? -you frowned, as he moved and took the black box.

It wasn’t the proposal you deserved, he thought. Before shit went down, he had planned everything; music, romantic dinner, even a pigeon. But in that moment, having you between his arms as you had just avoided death, he thought it was even more perfect.

-          I didn’t forget about the lunch, you know. -he talked again, playing with the box in his hands. -Well, I did. But I had my reasons. I-I was not cheating on you, Y/N.

-          Jace, we’ve talked about this. -you smiled.

-          Not enough. I know how it looked, and I’m so sorry. I didn’t thought about it until Izzy made me see it. -he breathed slowly, wanting to forget that moment. -Back to what I was saying, I spent two weeks preparing something nice for you, Y/N. Clary and Simon had to help me. And I just knew that, if I was with you, I would screw it. Because you know I can’t keep secrets.

-          Jace, where is this going? -you asked, not understanding a thing.

-          I-I bought you this. -his hands were shaking. -I wanted it to be special, but Y/N, you’re already special enough. I meant it when I said you’re the only thing keep me going. I can’t imagine a life without you, so I intended to make it official.

Jace tried to open the box a few times with his shaky fingers, letting out an awkward laugh; he hadn’t been so nervous on his life. As it the universe was laughing at him, when he finally opened the ring fell down in the bed. He moved you aside as he looked for it frantically, only to stop when he heard your soft voice calling out his name.

You were sitting on your knees in the bed, with just a big t-shirt and messy hair; and in your left hand, stood the shiny ring. Your mouth was wide open and your eyes were looking at him with a masked hope; praying that it meant what you thought it meant.

-          It can’t go worse, can it. -Jace groaned, blushing like a mad man. -It-it was supposed to be pretty romantic. I can still get on one knee, if you want to, or-

-          Jace. -you smiled, trying to blink the tears away. -You didn’t even asked the question.

-          It can go worse, yeah. -he complained. -Can you just, you know, give it back? So at least I won’t feel such a failure.

-          You’re not a failure, baby. -you laughed, giving him the ring. -If it had went in any other way, it wouldn’t have been us.

He smiled a little before kneeling in front of the bed. Jace made you move until you were sitting in front of him, with your legs crossed and a grin on your face. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he spoke again.

-          I…Y/N Y/L/N, would you like to be Y/N Wayland? -before you could answer, he interrupted you. -God no, that was awful. L-let me try again.

-          Jace, I don’t-

-          Grow old along with me, the best is yet to be. Will you spend the rest of your life with me?

A fit of laugh made it impossible for you to answer. Jace blushed again, looking slightly annoyed; he has asked Simon to help him to write something nice. When he tried the words for the first time in his mouth, he discovered it wasn’t a good idea.

-          I swear, I can-

-          Yes, Jace. -you smiled at him, having recovered from your laughs. -I will marry and love you even when your skin runs rough.

The ring fit perfectly in your finger. It was rather simple; with just a band a three diamonds inside. Covered by silver, it seemed made for you. Both of you kept staring at your hand for a while, letting out little giggles and chuckles every once in a while. Y/N Wayland. It did sound right.

[spacegate]

The Best Revenge - Ch 1

An Undertale Fanfiction

Chapters: 1 / AO3 / FF.NET / Characters: Sans, Grillby, Papyrus, Royal Doggies, Gaster, Undyne, Alphys, OCs Setting: Baby Blaster AU Fic Contains: Mentions of past child / medical abuse. Hurt / Comfort. Kids going through therapy. Healing. Dadby. Flashbacks to bad things. Synopsis: It's been almost a full year since little Sans and Papyrus were rescued from W. D. Gaster. Scarred from their experiences, both children will need extra care to come to terms with what happened to them. Now as their father, Grillby needs to guide them through both their recovery and life outside the laboratories. Life is full of ups and downs, but Grillby will try his best. After all, they say that living well is the best revenge. Part two of the TRUST trilogy.

It’s been nearly a whole year.

Grillby could barely grasp just how fast time has flown. His days had become routine in a way, and blended together. Not that it was a bad thing at all: he just found it strange how easy it was for things to become normal again after the ‘incident’.

Months before, his adoptive children suffered terribly at the hands of one of the most prominent scientists in the underground. Dr. Gaster was now dead, his dust consumed by the molten foundation of the CORE. He might be dead, but it didn’t mean that he still didn’t affect his victims. Nightmares and anxiety were common for his children and still would be for some time. But...life goes on, and he could honestly tell that they were happy and healing.

In a way, isn’t that the best revenge? Despite everything Gaster tried to do, he failed. He was dead, and both Sans and Papyrus would grow and live. They had their whole lives ahead of them where they could experience all the love and happiness that they should have gotten at the very beginning. They both already had friends and more family than they could count in the good people of Snowdin. They could be whoever and whatever they want to be. Grillby would be sure to give them everything they could ever ask for.

Gaster would be forever remembered for his crimes and reviled for it. There was nobody to mourn him. In time, his presence would fade, and he would only exist in a textbook. In time, the scars he inflicted on both children would fade, and he would have no more presence in the world that really matters.

Sounds of scraping claws and giggling snapped Grillby from his thoughts.

“i’ma get ya!” Sans could be heard, stomping around as loud as he could. “gonna get ya!”

“AAAAAAAAAAA!” Papyrus’ yelling interrupted the stomping. Grillby could hear him running as fast as he could around the living room, claws catching on the carpet.

Grillby opened the oven to take a quick peek at the item baking inside. He decided it could use five or so more minutes, and closed the door again. He moved away from the oven to the kitchen door, peeking in to see just what his kids where up to.

Indeed, it seemed they were playing some sort of chasing game. It seemed a little one-sided, but they were having fun despite it. Sans never quite got back up to speed after his injuries healed. Being blind on his right side made him more cautious in his movements, especially after bruising his face a few times running into furniture he couldn’t see. He seemed to tire very quickly and napped often. Dr. Frank, their doctor, decided to give Sans a few more months to see if his energy levels would pick up again. Sans had the hardest time out of both of them. Constant night terrors and bouts of panic meant more than one sleepless night for all of them. But Grillby could see the joy and happiness on the little skeleton’s face as he slowly stomped after his little brother.

Papyrus, on the other hand, seemed to recover rapidly. He still had bad dreams and instances where he would just cry for hours at a time. Sometimes he would just be completely silent and nervous, but time helped immensely with that. Unlike his brother, he wasn’t physically injured in the incident, so he was free to focus on growing, and grow he did. Grillby imagined he put on at least three pounds of weight in the last few months, and that was a lot for a skeleton monster. For now, the little monster was running about in his canine form, yelling as he zipped around. It seemed like the game was that he would run between Sans’ legs and around him while Sans tried to catch him in a very dramatic way.

Sans eventually ‘gave up’, flopping to the floor where he lay on his back. He remained sill enough that Papyrus grew curious, creeping closer to his older brother. Once he was in range, Sans grabbed up the pup in his hands and began to mercilessly tickle him.

“gotcha! haha!”

“AAAAAAA!”

Papyrus could not escape despite all his wiggling, so he resorted to yelling. Yelling, perhaps, was one of his greatest strengths, as he was perhaps the loudest toddler in the whole town.

Grillby couldn’t help but start laughing when the pup finally yelled loud enough to make Sans drop him.

“owie.” Sans rubbed the sides of his head, looking up when he heard the laughing. His grin spread across his face when he saw who it was. “hi dad.”

“Hello Sans, what kind of game were you two playing?” Grillby would forever be warmed by the sight of Sans’ smile. It was once a rare event becoming more common as time wore on.

“we were chasin’. but pap cheats.” Sans rubbed the sides of his head where his ear holes were.

“Ah, how can he cheat if you never told him the rules to the game?” Grillby folded his arms with a grin.

Sans went to respond, but before he could say a word, his little brother slammed into him from behind. This time Papyrus traded paws for hands, so he could wrap himself around his older brother and cling like glue.

“GOT CHU!” He yelled proudly.

“yeah bro you did!” Sans could only mumble through the carpet. Papyrus was fast enough that he knocked Sans clean over. “good job.”

Grillby clapped, which made the youngest skeleton beam with happiness.

“T’ANKS! NYEH HEH HEH!” Papyrus rolled off his brother and onto the floor. He had begun picking up new words here and there. Grillby was sure it wouldn’t be too long before he could begin stringing together full sentences. His volume control, however, was unlikely to change.

Grillby was about to walk over to check on them when the door began to shudder from pounding knocks. Spooked, the boys immediately rushed to hide behind the couch, as they did with most loud sudden noises. But then a familiar voice began to yell from outside: “HEY! HEY NERDS! MISTER GRILLBY? HEY!”

The loud rough voice of a little girl accented the pounding, making a terrible racket. Grillby had to rush over quickly to save his door from being dented. He opened it up and narrowly dodged a fist coming at his leg as the owner prepared to knock again.

“Oh...hello, Undyne. Alphys.”

Before him were the kid��s two best friends. Undyne, Gnash and Frank’s daughter, was bundled up in a coat and wearing a hat to cover her fins. She was the spitting image of Gnash, being a fish monster, but inherited the blue and red coloration of her other father. Being more like Gnash, this was a really rough-and-tumble kid. He was opposed to her playing with his children unsupervised at first, due to their condition. But she proved to know her own limits and could be surprisingly gentle, despite her brash nature. He figured that since one of her parents was a doctor she could recognize when someone wasn’t able to handle her rough style of play. After all, she was brought along to the house with Frank several times during the boys’ checkups, so she had seen what state they were in.

“Heya Mister G! Can Sans and Pap come out to play?” Undyne flashed Grillby an incredibly sharp grin.

“If...if that’s okay that is!” Alphys nervously fidgeted with her claws. Well, as much as she was able too. She was bundled up with so many coats and scarves that she could scarcely move her arms. Grillby wondered  whether could even get up again if she fell down: she’d be like a turtle on their back due to all the bundling.

“I will ask them.” Grillby turned and opened his mouth to call for them, but the boys already were attempting to get out the door around his legs.

“hey guys!” Sans seemed happy to see his friends. Papyrus just yelled with enthusiasm as per his usual greeting.

“Coats first, then you may go out and play.” Grillby caught them before they could outright run into the snow, helping both kids get into their coats and scarves. He had long since given up on giving them hats and mittens. They tended to always lose them. There must be at least ten hats and a handful of mittens scattered throughout Snowdin. The boys could scarcely stand still enough for the last of their coat buttons to be fastened. With that, their father turned them loose.

Once freed they both rushed out of the door to tackle their friends, laughing and tussling in the snow.

“Be back at four o’clock.” Grillby told them. “Stay away from the river, and be sure to stay close to town.”  It was the same thing he always told them when they went off to play. This time, he’d let them stay out for an hour longer than usual.

“thanks dad! we will!” Sans grinned and grabbed up his brother, who was floundering around in the fresh snow.

“Come on! Let's go sledding!” Undyne had already brought a sled with her.

“yeah! i’ll grab ours!” Sans was quick to grab the ropes to his own sled, putting Papyrus snugly on it. With that, all three children rushed off into the snow, Papyrus laughing from his spot on his sled all the way. Grillby watched them as they vanished around the corner, heading to the hill next to the Bunny shop. It was safe there: the store owner tended to keep an eye on the kids who went to sled. Squashing down a lingering worry, he shut the door.

It was something King Asgore told him before: “As a father, you’ll always worry, even if there is nothing to worry about.” Grillby trusted the girls, as he had seen them interact with the boys when they were at their worst. They’d be fine. The whole village would be there.

He wouldn’t spoil their fun because of his paranoia.

Once he was sure they were gone, he headed back into the kitchen. Only a few minutes had passed, and he opened the oven door to warm heat and sweet smells. He had no need for oven mitts, so he reached in to grab the pan, setting it on the counter to cool.

It was quite a nice marble cake. He wasn’t too sure if the boys would prefer vanilla or chocolate, so he decided to mix them both. He opened his cell phone and dialed in a number, holding it to his head as he started grabbing bowls.

It only took a few rings before the other end picked up with a click.

“(Hello Grillby!)”

“Hello Dogaressa. The boys are gone.” He grabbed some sugar and some butter, intent on making some icing.

“(Oh! Where are they now?)”

“They went sledding with their friends. I told them to come home at four.”

“(We’ll have some time then. I’ll send Greater to keep an eye on them.)” Barking broke out in the background, which was quickly shushed. “(We’ll bring over the supplies right away.)”

“Thank you, the door is open. See you shortly.”

With a click, the call ended, leaving him alone again. Soon everyone would arrive, and things could really get started.

He smiled as he worked a little faster.

Now...where did he put those candles again?

Snow crunched under boots as the kids marched on through the fresh snow. Papyrus rode on the sled, being pulled along behind them. Alphys stuck close. She wasn’t a big fan of the ice and snow, but she put up with it all the same. Sans felt grateful for that. He would miss her if she couldn’t visit as often as she did.

“Hey, ya know what we should do first?” Undyne was grinning as she looked back at her friends.

“yeah?” Sans was curious on what she might want to do.

“We should build totally awesome snowmonsters! Like...right down at the hill where everyone can see them!”

“But, wouldn’t that get in the way of the sleds?” Alphys piped up from the back. She was dragging along the second sled.

“That’s the point! We’re gonna crash into them!”

“We can’t do that! Sans ‘n Pap are s-”

“it's fine.” Sans cut Alphys off with a small smile. “really. we’re fine now.”

“Of COURSE they’re fine!” Undyne threw up her hands, eyes shining. “They have my papa as their doctor! And he’s the BEST! See?”

She balled up her fist and landed a punch on Sans’ arm, before she yelped in pain. “OW!”

“come on, i’m a skeleton. you knew you’d be punchin’ solid bone.” Sans couldn’t help but flinch at the action, but after the initial scare, he was amused. He was right, hitting solid bone couldn’t feel all that great.

“Undyne!” Alphys scolded the fish monster, who was rubbing a hand that was sure to bruise. “You scared him! Don’t hit them like that!”

“Nuh-uh! He’s fine! He hurt me worse.” Undyne snorted, “Right Sans?”

Sans just shrugged. “it wasn’t my idea to punch bone. technically, you hurt yourself.” To be honest, it was a little scary. But, not as scary as before. He knew Undyne wasn’t going to hurt him, but sometimes the act itself spooked him. The more she roughhoused with them, the more things became...okay. Less scary. Not everything had to end in pain.

“NYEH!” Papyrus grumped from the sled. He was wondering why everything stopped. He wanted to play, not stand around. He pounded his fists on the sides of the sled to make a racket. “NYEEH!”

“You heard the lil’ nerd! Let's get movin’!” Undyne shook out her hand and broke off into a run.

The kids quickly ran after their friend, chasing her through the light snow. Footprints of other monsters began to criss-cross their path, and it wasn’t too long before they approached the hill. The hill itself wasn’t a dramatic slope. It was gentle enough for little kids, but steep enough to still give a bit of a thrill. There were already sled tracks packed down into the snow. Several other kids were around with their parents, playing or sculpting snow. A few adults stood about or sat on benches, keeping an eye on everything going on.

It made Sans feel a little safer.

Undyne frowned. “Darn...looks like we won’t be able to crash into stuff. There’s too many adults around.”

“Yes, what a shame that we can’t do dangerous things.” Alphys snarked back. Sans giggled in agreement. Undyne opened her mouth to reply, when someone made it clear he was tired of doing nothing.

“NYEH!!!”

Papyrus had enough with sitting, and so decided for everyone what to do. The snow was packed up enough where he could toddle around without sinking, so he rolled himself off the sled. He then broke off into a run, intending on rolling himself over the edge of the hill before Sans scooped him up. Papyrus kicked in his older brother’s grip.

“sorry pap, can’t do that.”

“NO! AAA!” Papyrus wiggled, wanting to go down the hill. He could see other kids sledding or just rolling down the hill. It looked tons of fun to him, so he fussed even louder about it.

“no bro, not like that. like this, see?” The older brother carried the younger, kicking and yelling, back to the sled. He settled down with Papyrus safely held in front of him, securing them both on the sled. “look, we sit here. it’s safer like this. you’re still a baby bones.”

“Not for long I think.” Undyne snorted and got behind the sled. “You guys ready?”

“yeah!”

With that, Undyne shoved the sled down over the hill, laughing when Papyrus, for once, was shocked into silence. As soon as they were at the bottom, he was demanding another go. Thus began a long session of sledding. Sometimes they crammed themselves all on one sled. Sometimes they raced other kids. They might have been scolded a few times by the adults around, but it came with the territory. One kid lent them a bowl-shaped sled that went a little too fast for Sans’ comfort, but Undyne loved it all the same. When they got tired of trekking up the hill, they stayed near the bottom.

“Hey Sans?” Alphys asked while they took a break. It didn’t take long for them to find a bench to sit on, watching the other kids sled down the hill. Papyrus was busy sitting in the snow, making shapes that only really made sense to him.

“Yeah?”

“Do you think you could pull a sled?”

Undyne perked up her fins from under her hat. “Yeah! That sounds awesome! Can you?”

Sans could only shrug. “i never tried...and i dunno if can pull everyone at once.” He rubbed at the arm that was previously broken only months before.

“You could pull Pap.” Undyne pointed out. “He’s a weenie. He weighs practically nothing.”

“but then you guys will be left out.”

“Maybe it would be best to wait until you get bigger.” Alphys suggested. “Um...you’re kinda..small. I just...thought it would be neat.”

“No worries, Sans!” Undyne slung an arm around the skeleton’s shoulder. “You won’t be shrimpy forever! Heck, you might even get huge, wouldn’t that be cool?”

“um…” He coughed when she tightened her grip, pulling him into a stronger hug.

“Naw I’m serious! With the way your dad feeds ya, you’ll be HUGE!”

Sans shook his head with a snort. “i don’t think so. i’m shorter than you guys.”

Before Undyne could retort, one of the bunny children ran up to the group.

“Hey! We’re gonna get a snowball war together! You guys wanna join up?”

The look on Undyne’s face was quite unnerving at that. She lived for competition in all forms. “Yesss.” She clenched her fists together and gave the poor bunny a truly terrifying look.

“As long as we can be on her team.” Sans shrugged. Alphys nodded along with that. Papyrus was still busy making a snow tower and thus couldn’t care less about what was going on.

“Uhh...okay. We get ten minutes to prepare. My mom is gonna let us know when to start.” The bunny backed away a little from the terror child.

“Then you better get hurrying cause we’re gonna cream you nerds!” Undyne popped up from her seat already, already gathering snow.

To his credit, the kid took off running back to his group before Undyne could dunk him with snow. Sans and Alphys snorted.

“Well if there’s going to be a whole war, we need to get our fort up before everyone else.” Alphys tootled off her seat, waddling over to what looked like a good spot. “See? We got the high ground!”

“We do! Great thinking Alph!” Undyne scooped up an armful of snow and hurried over to their spot. Sans lifted up Papyrus and carried him over to the growing snowpile.

Together, they began to build.

“How does this look to you?”

Dogamy had just finished stringing up a large paper banner marked ‘HAPPY BIRTHDAY’. He had to twist around his wife, who was hanging up streamers at the same time. It made them bump into each other quite a few times, but knowing them, they were doing it on purpose.

“It looks good.” Grillby looked it over where it was positioned on the living room wall. Once the children had gone out to play, all the dads and dogs had gathered together to prepare for a party.

A birthday party, in fact, for the boys.

There were detailed records about them, but it was hard to tell what exactly counted as their birthday. Was it the day they were taken out of the tubes? How does one really measure a birthday for someone with a radically different way of being born? So, he compromised, and picked the clearest date he could figure. Sans and Papyrus never did anything without the other, so it made sense to celebrate them both on the same day.

The Dogs, Gash, Frank, and Bertram were all helping out. They were doing everything from hanging up decorations to moving furniture around. With the kids being a little skittish still, the party was going to be very small and as low-key as possible. Still, they could have decorations and the like, but since the kids have never experienced a party before...it was going to be for the best to not overwhelm them.

Bertram fussed. “They aren’t going to try and eat the paper, are they?” The dinosaur eyed the tissue paper streamers taped just about everywhere.

“They’re skeletons my dude. It’s not like they can actually eat them.” Gnash frowned as he struggled to keep balloons tied down so they don’t float away.

“Oh they can, dear.” Frank took the balloons from his husband and tied them to a chair. “But it’s not going to really hurt them.”

“Well, consider me corrected then.”

Lesser Dog barked from his position on the couch. He had finished filling up a bone shaped piñata with candy, holding it up to show everyone.

“Nice, gonna hang it up?” Gnash eyed it. It was decently sized for four kids, with plenty of the ‘good’ candy. No fruit packs or pretzels, just straight-up sugar.

“(You don’t hang up piñatas for pups.)” Dogaressa laughed. “(You put it on the floor so they can rip it up!)”

“That’s actually pretty badass.” The Captain grinned, impressed.

“Well it’s also because mixing sticks with pups never go over too well.” Dogamy added. “It stops becoming a piñata party and more of a fight over who gets the stick.”

Grillby merely hummed, looking everything over. He glanced over at the present pile. The pile was, on second glance, more like a present mountain. When he called everyone and explained his plan for a nice, quiet birthday party, they all decided to go for broke. Everyone had a soft spot for the little skeletons, and were determined to make their very first birthday party a memorable one. That included spoiling them rotten. The pile of presents were stacked as well as they could be without getting stepped on. He went over a checklist in his mind as everyone added the finishing touches.

Enchanted balloons that wouldn’t pop and thus frighten the boys? Check.

Decorations that weren’t too overwhelming and could stand some nibbling? Check.

Cake? Check.

A piñata and enough candy for four kids? Check.

A mop and bucket at the ready for Papyrus? Check.

A pillow fort prepared in their room just in case things got too overwhelming? Check.

He checked off other things in his mind, checking and double-checking. A white paw on his shoulder stopped him before he could run through the checklist a fourth time.

“(Relax Grillby, you look like a hen with all that fussing you’re doing!”)

Grillby took a moment to collect himself, his flames tingeing a soft pink in embarrassment. “I just...want it to be special.”

“(And it is. These are little kids, not the King himself! It's not like they need perfection, just love and validation. That’s what this day is all about, right?”) Dogaressa winked at the flustered father and withdrew her paw. (“You don’t need to worry so much, just let things happen naturally. Trust me.)”

Grillby took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. The flames of his head were wild with worry for a time, but the once again became the usual, gentle, fireplace-like flame. A thousand things could go wrong and the last thing he wanted was for them to associate bad things with birthdays. Or even parties all together. The kids were skittish enough as it was with new things. A birthday for them would certainly be new.

He glanced back over at the other adults. They all were standing back and admiring their own handiwork. Of course, everything was bone-themed. Bone-themed tablecloth. Little bone-patterned plates. Even little dog treats were scattered about, which the dogs insisted upon.

“I think it’s done,” He finally said. “What time is it?”

Frank checked his watch. “Around three-thirtyish. Should we go out and get them?”

“Nah, I’ll call Greater. He was sent over to keep an eye on them. He’ll be able to herd them all back.” Dogamy flipped open his phone, and exited to the kitchen to place his call.

“Are we going to hide and yell ‘SURPRISE’ and all that?” Doggo squinted. His sight was too bad to help with decorations, so he elected to be the one to guard the presents. He took the job very seriously, knives and all.

“No.” Grillby shook his head. “They don’t like to be startled like that. I will stop them at the door and explain.”

“That’s a good idea.” Frank agreed. “Let’s all sit and rest a spell. I doubt all of us standing around will be good for their nerves.”

Mutters of agreement echoed through the group, all of them taking seats and being as non-threatening as they could. The boys were still very young and had yet to start therapy. Frank was the one that suggested they all be careful and mindful of their actions. So far, it had prevented what could be a perpetual state of anxiety for the kids.

Grillby fussed one last time over everything.

He still had yet to find the candles.

The snowball war ended in mutually-assured destruction.

It was an hour-long fight and the kids went all out on it. Snow trenches were dug. Forts were made. Snowballs were stockpiled up. Everyone hunkered down with their team until the signal was given.

“Alright y’all, let's have a clean fight!”, one of the parents shouted. “Ready? GO!”

The air quickly became white with snowballs. Snow was flinging everywhere, even hitting some of the parents who were unfortunate enough to get caught in the cross-fire. It was madness.

Undyne made snow boulders instead of snowballs, and took great delight at being a one-girl siege engine. Many walls crumbled to her wrath. Many kids were buried under piles of snow. It was pure devastation.

Sans and Alphys were just happy to make the ultimate fort. Sans didn’t know all that much about playing war, but Alphys was more than happy to help. Soon they were hunkered down, weathering incoming fire and dealing it back just as quickly. At one point they ran out of snow, and Sans had to sneak out under fire to get more.

Papyrus ran out to chase all the snowballs, borking all the way. Small kids were were under a mutual agreement of protection. Nobody threw snowballs at them and they were herded away from the more intense part of the war. Papyrus might be too small to really participate, but he was more than happy to chase the snowballs that flew past him. He was joined with some other small kids who just happily rolled around in the snow, not really caring that much about the war around them.

In the end, the fighting was too intense, and there wasn’t a single fort or trench left standing. The kids lay where they were felled in the snow, too worn out to continue. Nobody won, but it wasn’t like they were playing for wins anyway. It was at the time the other parents started to collect their kids. It was time to come in from the cold, and one by one, Sans watched the other kids leave.

“I got Pap!” Alphys waddled through the snow, holding a surprisingly still pup. Papyrus’ eye lights were crossed as he shivered. He made a loud sharp gurgle and tilted his head straight up in the air, muzzle open wide.

“what happened?” Sans was instantly on edge, rushing over to examine his little brother

“Hey, no need to worry he just um...ate a snowball or two.” Alphys giggled. “He got a brain freeze.”

“...brain freeze?” Sans looked at this brother again, who was clacking his jaws together.

“Yeah, it’s when you eat cold stuff too fast and it gives you a weird feeling in your head.”

To show he was alright, Papyrus eventually shook his head and wagged his tail, normal again. “NYEH!”

Sans relaxed. It seemed his little bro was alright. “phew…”

Undyne stomped over, laughing. “Heh, did you see that great big snow boulder I made? It took out a whole fort!”

“yeah, but then everyone within range hit you at once.” Sans smirked. Undyne frowned. Her coat and hat were covered in snow. It wouldn’t be long before everything would start to melt and make everything chilly and damp.

They were just gathering their sleds and brushing themselves off when a white dog bounded over the snow and skidded to a stop in front of the children.

“<Hello children!>” Greater Dog barked a greeting and wagged his fluffy tail. He was without his armor for now, it seemed, and it was honestly a little difficult to tell him apart from the snow without it. He was practically two black eyes and a nose floating above the snow.

“hi greater.” Sans smiled. “what are you doing here? I thought you had guard stuff to do.”

“<I have off today!>” Greater shook his coat free of some snowflakes. “<I am here to bring you all home!>”

Undyne and Alphys watched the interaction, giving each other looks. It was still weird to them that Sans could just... understand the dogs like he could. Not that it was anything more different than talking to someone else with a different language, but Dog was very hard to learn by non-dogs. They tended to not think too hard about it. They had more important stuff to worry about, such as when dinner time was.

“i guess we were out here a long time.” Sans rubbed his fingers together. Now that playing was over with, the cold and damp was starting to seep in, causing him to shiver. It wasn’t as bad a chill as when he and his brother were homeless: now, he had the warmest coat that his father could get for him. He felt worn out a little, eager to go back indoors, and he could expect there to be hot cocoa waiting when they got back.

“Yeah! I don’t even know what time it is!” Alphys struggled to get out her phone, but couldn’t bend her arms down enough to open her pockets. Undyne took the pup from her, and laughed as Alphys flailed around for a few seconds.

Greater dog barked and started hopping through the snow, waiting for them all to catch up. Thus began the cold and tired trek back to the house. Papyrus was thoroughly worn out, so he was content to be carried. Sans was slower, as always, so everyone took time to match his pace. The snow had been packed down as they left, so the walk home was easier.

The hill wasn’t too far away from home, and soon the group arrived back at the house. To the boys’ surprise, their dad was out on the porch waiting for them.

“Hello, did you all have fun?” The fire dad smiled. Greater barked a greeting and slipped past them all and into the house.

The kids crowded close, eager to steal a little heat from a literal fire-person. “We did!” Undyne was first to talk, throwing up her arms. “We played so much! And there was a snowball fight! And Pap ate a snowball!”

“Did he now?” Grillby reached down to pat the little pup on the head. “I bet it didn’t taste very nice.”

Papyrus transformed with a soft click, allowing him to speak again. “NO! EW.” The toddler made a dramatic face. Truth be told, the snow tasted like nothing. But the cold was something he wasn’t too fond of. He held up his arms and ‘nyeh’d’ at his father until he was picked up and held in the fiery warmth.

“Undyne, Alphys...how about you both go inside and get warm? I have to explain something to the boys.”

“Sure!” Both girls shuffled past, stashing the sleds on the porch and eagerly shedding coats and scarves inside the warm house.

Sans was puzzled. “explain what?”

“Well,” Grillby sat down on the bench on the porch. He had it installed not too long ago, so he could have somewhere safe to sit while he watched the boys play outside. Sans jumped up along with him to sit, wondering. “Do you remember when I explained what a birthday was?”

Sans thought for a moment, before nodding. “yeah, it’s when you get a party on the day you were born.”

“That is quite right.” Grillby smiled widely. “Do you know what today is?”

“uhhh…..” Sans tilted his head back in thought. “um...is it Alphys’ birthday?” He fiddled with his fingers.

Grillby laughed lightly. “Oh no, it’s your birthday.”

Sans’s eye lights went wide in his sockets. “really?”

“Yes really. Today is for both you and your brother. I wanted to tell you both outside, so you did not get spooked once we go inside. There’s a party for the both of you.”

Sans’ eyelights were practically stars for how bright they were. “for us?”

“Yes, for you both.”

Sans looked like he was about to ask something, before he shook his head and smiled up at his father.

Grillby stood, moving Papyrus to one arm and holding out the other hand to Sans. “They should be all ready now. If you get overwhelmed, your bedroom has a hiding spot I set up. Leave whenever you need to, okay? Everyone will understand.”

Sans took the offered hand and hopped over to his feet. “thanks dad!”

“Of course, son.”  With that, he lead Sans to the door and pushed it open.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” “(Awoooo!)”

Sans couldn’t help but jump a little at the sudden noise, but relaxed once he saw who caused it. The Dog Guard, Alphys, Undyne, and their parents were there, all wearing paper hats and grinning. His eye sockets were wide as he took everything in. The decoration. The big pile of presents. The enormous cake on the table. It was just...so much!

Undyne took another paper hat and sat it down on Sans’ head. “Here ya go birthday boy.”

Sans could only beam with happiness.

“Come along, we’ll have some cake and cocoa to warm up first.” Grillby gently nudged the boy forward, which seemed to jump-start him. It was a struggle to throw off his coat so he could run off and look at everything. Papyrus was set on the couch and helped out of his own coat. He too regarded everything with wide eye sockets and a wide smile. Still tuckered out a little, it seemed that he was going to make his father carry him everywhere.

To Papyrus’ surprise, he was carried over to the table and set in his high chair. In front of him was a huge frosted cake. Papyrus indeed knew what cake was, and wiggled in excitement. He gnawed on his fingers and drooled, eyeing the cake. Sans was set next to him on his own chair. On front of the cake were some candles, and ‘Happy Birthday Sans and Papyrus!’ written in icing. Grillby simply had to touch the candles to have them lit.

“Now, before we begin, there is a birthday tradition.” Grillby explained. Sans was looking at him in confusion over the candles. “On someone’s birthday, they make a secret wish, and then blow out the candles. It's said that the wish will come true.”

Sans took a moment to ponder about it. Grillby could immediately see the confusion and thought on his face, and then, a quick flicker of sadness. The nature of wishes was something difficult for them both to grasp. How many times did they lay in their cages, wishing for freedom, only for it to not come true? He had it in mind to skip it, but Dogaressa convinced him to go on with it.

Thankfully, she stepped in. “(These wishes only happen during birthdays, and you need the candles too. Wishes may not have worked before, but they will now. We can all promise that.)”

The group nodded along to that.

“Go ahead son. Make a wish.” Grillby gently encouraged him. “You too Papyrus.”

Papyrus was too busy wiggling to pay attention, his eyelights firmly locked in on the cake.

“Er...Sans. You may have to make a wish for Papyrus too.”

“i can do that!” Sans closed his eye sockets, looking like he was trying to solve the most challenging of math problems. He finally opened them up, and with a determined look, blew out the candles.

“Very good!”

Everyone clapped as an embarrassed-looking Sans sank a little lower in his chair. Embarrassed, but pleased at the attention. It was a strange feeling to get used to, liking attention.

“Okay, then, it is time for cake. Everyone get a plate.” Grillby took up his cake knife and prepared to cut the cake.

Papyrus, however, had other plans.

“CAKE!” He yelled, and then slammed his head face first into the cake. Frosting flew up and splattered the ones closest to the carnage as he seemed determined to eat his way through the cake. Afraid that his son could possibly drown in cake, Grillby quickly pulled him away and lifted up his head.

Papyrus just beamed through a mask of crumbs and frosting. He pulled fistfulls of cake off his face and shoved them into his mouth. “IS GUD!”

Sans broke the silence by cracking up so hard, he almost fell out of his chair. “it does look good pap!”

That earned another laugh, as Grillby looked over the portion of cake that wasn’t destroyed. Well, he could work with this. It wasn’t the worst cake-related disaster he’d ever seen.

After all, he’s a bartender. He’d seen much worse.

Interesting….

Very, very interesting…

Somewhere outside the realm of reality, a shape began to pull itself out of the ground. But it was not really a true ground: up and down did not exist here. Nor was front or back.

Regardless, the shape came from somewhere, oozing outwards like black bubbling tar.

The partygoers couldn’t see it. Not where they were. But on this side, the blackness infected the space around them and sucked away all the color. Almost like static, a perfectly normal, happy birthday party became something unreal. It was like looking at a show from the TV with the gains incorrect. Pieces of lines and shapes were just a smidge out of place; not enough to be noticeable unless one had a lot of time on one’s hands.

For the disgraced W.D Gaster, he had more than enough time.

After his first manifestation with some semblance of sanity, he spent time trying to understand the hell he was in. There was no heat and no cold, just a numbness that went on forever. He could touch himself with his hands, but he felt nothing. He had tried to pull his soul out to see if it was still there, but all that came of it was a black stringy mess that he couldn’t see through. It was still unclear whether his soul was in that mess or not.

He tried screaming, but all that resulted was more static.

He also found his limitations.

He had found himself forever chained to his creations.

It was quite maddening. Once, he saw his subjects napping on the couch like the animals they were. Bored of the sight, Gaster tried to leave, only to find that he destabilized as soon as he crossed the house threshold. Seeing himself fall apart was quite frightening, and it took what felt like hours to pull himself together enough to have rational thought again.

When not together, thoughts slipped in and out like oil. He could try to grab them, make sense of them. But they slipped out of his grasp to warp and stretch across the void. Concepts, words, and even semblances of self flew just out of reach: close enough to have a ghosly memory, but too far away to truly remember everything.

He had only tried to leave their space thrice, and he wasn’t keen to do so again.

Experiments showed that as long as he was within a few meters or two, he could manifest. He could think again. Even if he couldn’t physically feel it, he felt like himself. When he cared not to look at his killer anymore, he could simply just stop existing for a little while. Once he thought it would be for the best to stop existing, and he tried to simply be nothing. But without fail, he would find himself back here, around them.

It didn’t happen too often, but it was enough to be extremely annoying.

He was annoyed now, watching the creatures, creatures he made with his own two hands to kill humans, eating cake. It was sickening. He had made them to mimic monsters well enough that they could fool a human. But fooling other monsters? That wasn’t something he intended.

So much waste.

They were the best work he had ever done, and now they would sit around opening presents like real children. What a waste. So much work for nothing. He had hoped that even in death, someone would see reason and continue the project. But it seemed like his brilliance died with him.

He hadn’t been to the lab or the CORE since his fall. He had no idea what was happening there, but he could be sure that he wouldn’t like it.

He had nothing better to do, and he was a scientist. He could continue his work, and once he could figure a way out of this place, he could resume it.

But getting out?

That would be the hardest part.

But...

He already had a few ideas.

[devientdeco]

The Death of A Skeptic

Spencer Winters sat at his desk, smoking a cigarette and enjoying a coffee and the sounds of “Nobody Knows You When Your Down And Out” cascading from the radio near his desk. He saw a dark shape against the frosted glass of his office door which read ‘Spencer Winters: Private Detective and Investigator’. Other detectives would have a secretary outside, but he had had to let his go. The young detective reached into his desk and undid the safety on one of his .45 pistols, cocked it, and placed it in his pocket, easily drawn if he needed it. It never hurt to be prepared, after all.

Spencer opened the door and admitted a young man, the two taking their seats on opposite sides of the desk as Spencer killed the radio with the turn of a dial. The young man was armed, Spencer saw the bulge of a holster in his expensive suit. He was tall and lanky, not unlike Spencer, and he had neatly arranged red hair, green eyes flicking over Spencer like a snake looking at prey. He smiled and extended a hand to shake before he began speaking, his voice indicating he was clearly another Nocturne City native, the Southern accent spilling from his lips like tar onto a road under construction. “Mr. Winters,” He paused to flash another million-dollar smile at Spencer. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I am Nicholas Burnette. I represent a powerful player who has expressed an interest in hiring you. You’ve proven yourself to be quite a capable detective and an able combatant, an excellent marksman and possessing a remarkably sturdy constitution. I’ve heard of your little war with Benny Vinnoci and his bootleggers after that unfortunate business with your wife and her sticky fingers. He ended up with two to the head, and you get off scot-free thanks to your police friends. You are, thus, an able candidate for the job we have in mind.”

Spencer raised an eyebrow. “And what, exactly, is this job, Mr. Burnette? How do you know so much about me?”

“I have friends in the police department, just like you do, detective, and I also hired someone else to look into your background. Please, don’t be upset. I was asked to find the best man for the job, and you're it. As for what the job entails, it is deceptively simple. My employer seeks a raven statuette from the swamp outside of town. I am sure you are aware of the perils within, so we chose you for your martial prowess.”

Spencer resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He was a skeptic, through and through, not believing the tales of monsters in the swamps. Like any gumshoe, he knew if you were inclined to believe in such things, you probably weren’t cut out for detective work anyway, or if you were, you’d waste your time and your clients trying to find things everyone else knew weren’t real. He had been in the swamp on a case before though, just last year, looking for a lost boy. The boy was never found, but there was never any sort of danger there, just big trees and weirdly black water. One of the policemen had gone missing, but he was later found in the loving embrace of a mistress in a seedy motel near the swamp. Nothing supernatural there, Spencer thought, just human nature. He pushed the case from his mind and focused on his client. “The only threats I face there are the threats of tripping and getting my boots wet Mr. Burnette.”

“That is where you are wrong, detective. But if you do not believe me, you will find out for yourself. Will you take the job?”

“More details?”

“We have a rough idea of where the object is, but our previous efforts to retrieve it have been stymied by illness and madness, and in one case, cowardice. We can provide you with a rough map, and little else, I’m afraid. You will be exceedingly well compensated, detective. My employer is prepared to offer you up to ten thousand dollars if you retrieve this object for his collection, five hundred upon accepting the job, and the other nine thousand, five hundred, upon delivery of the statuette. If you succeed in this endeavor, you may be hired for more asset recovery operations in the future.”

Spencer’s mind raced at what he could do with the money. He might be able to pay off the medical bills he always incurred on his more dangerous cases, and maybe even hire another secretary. But he knew he had to keep from acting too excited, avoid seeming too eager. “Ten thousand dollars for getting my boots a little wet and finding some statuette? Your boss must really like statues. Sure, I’ll take your money. Who’s this mysterious employer, Mr. Burnette?”

Nicholas smiled warmly. “I’m so glad you agreed to the job. I doubt it will be as easy as you think, but I’m sure you can handle it, given your background. My employer is none other than Mr. Henry Sinclair, founder, and CEO of Southern Industries.”

Spencer was impressed. Henry Sinclair owned Southern Motors, among the other enterprises in the Southern Industries umbrella and was the richest man in Nocturne City. His factories had brought the city and the south as a whole an economic boom, and he was fast becoming one of the richest men in the country. Now he wanted him to find something in the swamp for him. He was distracted from his thoughts as Nicholas reached into his coat and pulled out an envelope. “The first installment of your payment, detective. Thank you very much for agreeing to this. You are the fourth person we’ve hired or tried to hire. The second person to accept. We sent a team into the swamp ourselves, but they came down with some nasty illnesses and the expedition leader is currently in a mental asylum. The one detective who agreed skipped town after being given the first installment and had to be tracked down and made an example of. I’m sure you won’t make the same mistake. I hope you succeed and don’t end up dead. Good luck sir and thank you again.” He shook hands again and left after a final smile.

That night, Spencer returned home to see his wife, Scarlett, lounging on the couch. “Hello dear. You look glum. What’s wrong, tough day at the office?” She rose and embraced him. “I was hired by Henry Sinclair to go into the swamp and find something for him.” Scarlett looked alarmed. “Please tell me you turned him down. There’s all sorts of awful things in the swamp.” Spencer cracked a grin, amused by his wife’s belief in the supernatural.

“Yeah, like what?”

“Well, there is, of course, Black Mask Armitage. Victims of The Walking Plague that survived being killed way back when, cultists, freaks, all sort of things! You shouldn’t have taken the job.”

“Oh, calm down. The worst that can happen is maybe I’ll trip over a tree root. He offered me ten thousand dollars! Why would I turn that down? Besides, I never saw anythin’ weird last year.”

“Even the luckiest man alive has to run out of luck sometime. Just cause you didn’t see anything, doesn’t mean its not there.  I love you Spence, and I don’t wanna see a news article about your body being found floating on the edge of the swamp.”

He smiled at her worries. He silenced her protests with a kiss on her ruby-red lips, while running his fingers through her long red hair.

“Baby, I’ve taken on gangsters, for you no less. I killed a mob boss. I’ve tangled with the toughest thugs this city can offer and I’ve always come out on top. I can survive getting a little wet. I’m sorry, but I need the money.”

He pulled his wife off of him and started walking to his room. He opened the envelope and found it had five one-hundred-dollar bills and a map, or, rather, an attempt at a map. It had several ‘landmarks’, one of which was circled. ‘The tall black trees. It should be in the center of the clearing surrounded by the tall black trees.’, was scrawled in spidery handwriting. Spencer thought about the weird legends of the black-water swamp on the edge of town. The earliest legends were from the colonization of the city back in the 1600s, stories of weird lights. Spencer dismissed them as swamp gas. There were many stories of the horrors and cults and forbidden sects which lived in the swamp, but he dismissed them simply as folk stories. Tomorrow he would go out into the swamps and try to find the statuette.

**

In the morning, Spencer went to have breakfast at The Café V8 in his sleek Southern Motors Raven before heading off to the outskirts of town, wearing not a suit, but instead donning some well-worn boots, jeans, and a shirt and coat he wasn’t afraid to get dirty. He peered into the dark swamps and turned on a flashlight. The high cypress and oak trees blocked out what little light shone through the overcast sky, Spanish moss dangling down and blotting out the light even further. He trudged into the swamp, into the cool black water. His boots sank into the mud and snapped twigs as he walked on. Spencer frowned. This brought back bad memories. He had searched for the boy for days, and found no trace of him, save a tattered bit of cloth that might have come from his shirt, but could have been from any number of other shirts. He nearly tripped over a sprawling root somehow drawing nutrition from the water-soaked soil. Spencer found a slight smirk crossing his face, despite the memories of last year. He had been right. There was nothing here but trees and water. He was surprised to see a number of lights in the distance. He cautiously approached, flicking off the flashlight and seeing a handful of figures standing over something. He inched closer, crouching down now and pulling out one of the two .45s he always carried with him.

He looked closer and saw that the individuals stood atop a bit of ground that rose from the black waters, amidst the huge trees. They were six of them, all naked, their bodies painted in strange, organic patterns, spirals, leaves, ivy-like tattoos crawling up their skin. They stood inside a pair of overlapping hexagons made of black wood. The figures stood around a colossal black tree stump, and, to Spencer’s shock, a mutilated body. The body was that of a young man, apparently vivisected, with intricate leaf-like patterns branching off of the opened chest cavity, as though it were a tree trunk with the leaf-like patterns growing from it onto the rest of thr body. The figures bore bloody knives. Spencer cocked and undid the safety on his .45 as he backed away, prepared to defend himself as he fled. He cursed to himself as he slipped on a root and fell into the water. He arose, seeing six figures approaching him, bearing knives, chanting aloud words that made Spencer’s head hurt and his ears to ring. He raised his .45 and fired at the nearest cultist, aiming for the leg, wanting to incapacitate for now unless they made things difficult. The cultist fell to the ground, his knee shattered by the bullet. He continued to fire, wounding each cultist, though they continued to crawl toward, chanting even through the pain, some unknown and incomprehensible language. Spencer sighed and decided he’d have to kill them. He was good at killing, and while he did not enjoy it, recognized it as a necessary evil. He shot them each in the head, even as they continued to crawl forward, one of them even hurling his knife at him in desperation, though it only tore a hole in his coat as it went wide. He moved on, trying to block the memory from his mind.

As he pressed on through the water, he flicked on the flashlight again and continued onward. He was not particularly worried about killing those people; the corpses would be subsumed by the black waters of the swamp and they would not be an issue. Even if they were, his friends in the police force would understand that he was cleansing their fair city of criminal cultists. He felt his boot kick against something. He looked down and saw something that was not a tree root. He saw many corpses floating in the waters. Not one, not two, but dozens of them. They were rotten with age, yet still somehow, impossibly, had flesh and muscle, albeit tattered and decayed. Then, Spencer thought he saw one of them twitch. Impossible. Corpses cannot twitch. It continued to twitch, standing up. It and the other corpses began to stand, shambling toward him, arms outstretched, a low moan escaping from its damaged and rotten mouth. Spencer blinked, recoiling on reflex rather than reason, dismissing this as a hallucination. One of the corpses tried to bite him, and he recoiled. He leaped back. This was no hallucination. He backed up, and drew his pistol, firing perfectly aimed headshots, but panicked as he heard the click of an empty clip. He backed up, tripping over a tree root and falling backwards into the water. The things he had shot had fallen into the water, finally destroyed after centuries of unlife.  But more of them arose from the black waters. Spencer arose from the water, narrowly avoiding a grasping hand, and fled, running blindly away from the reanimated corpses into the swamp, tripping a few times and soaking himself further.

He finally got far enough away that moans were no longer audible on the wind. He slumped against a tree. What had he just seen? It must have been supernatural, for he was unable to explain this rationally. He was a man of rational thinking, and dare not think of anything irrational or strange, even religion, for many religions would not approve of his actions. He pondered on these things he had shot. According to local history/legend, in 1745, there was an outbreak of The Walking Plague, a strange form of bubonic plague. The town apothecaries and barber-surgeons donned the signature mask of the plague doctors and took up blades and eradicated the undead who had lurched into the swamp. One of them, local legend proclaimed, was infected by a bite from the undead and then began to transform. The doctor, Noah Armitage, vanished into the swamp. A few weeks later, reports of a horrible flying creature began a strange amalgamation of flesh and bone, and ravens wings, and a leathery plague mask and beak. This monstrous creature was called Black Mask Armitage, supposedly the transformed doctor Noah Armitage.  Perhaps, perhaps the legends were true. He had shot undead creatures to protect himself. Undead beings reanimated by an ancient disease. But when he had gone looking for the boy last year he hadn’t encountered anyone or anything out of ordinary, and he had gone deeper into the swamp than this, or so he thought. Thinking about the case brought a strange feeling of melancholy. He remembered the mother sobbing, asking him to take another look, because the police had largely given up after three weeks of searching. He shook his head fiercely and forced himself to stop thinking until after he found what he was hired to find.

He pressed onward, looking at the map, trying to get his bearings. He was surprised to see the stump that had been on the map. He pressed onward, the trees becoming even taller, monolithic black trees, Spanish moss hanging like tendrils reaching toward him. There was a sudden clearing, and Spencer saw a tall black monolith, a statuette of a raven sitting atop it. He approached, grabbing the statuette and tucking it into a bag. As he turned, an earsplitting screech filled the air. He stared in disbelief and horror as a figure flew towards him. It was some sort of monstrous entity, a creature with a long black beak, it’s beak long and leathery, like a plague doctors mask, arms that looked like eldritch fusions of bone, rippling black flesh, and raven feathers. Its body was a mix of black feathers and bone, black flesh showing here and there. It let out a terrifying screech and flapped towards Spencer. Spencer could hardly believe his eyes, sure he was now hallucinating. He was snapped out of this assurance that he was hallucinating by sharp pains on his arms and chest. He saw blood on his shirt.  He removed his pair of .45s and fired, Black Mask Armitage hissing and screeching as the bullets hit its chest and wings. Spencer kept firing, as he ran, his coat being ripped off as claws snagged in it. He sprinted into the thick trees, Black Mask Armitage following him, flying above the trees, the shrieks echoing into the overcast sky. He continued to fire, many of the bullets flying wild now, shooting until he heard the click of empty magazines. He was out of bullets now, and no more magazines, the extras had been in his coat. His arms and chest were bleeding more freely now, the cuts deeper than he thought. Something he did not believe in had clawed him, and he was bleeding. Perhaps he needed to be more open to the existence of the supernatural in Nocturne City. After all, not believing in it did not prevent it from attempting to kill him, of course. He continued to press on through the swamp, seeing the lights of town in the distance. He smiled weakly to himself, thinking of Scarlett when the screeching of Black Mask Armitage drew closer. He saw his car nearby, it’s sleek black form a sign of hope. If he could get to it, he could drive off and leave this forsaken swamp.

Making a break for it, he ran to the car, tossing the bag containing the statuette in the passenger seat and quickly grabbing the two extra magazines he kept in his glove box and frantically reloading. To his horror, the car rocked, and the narrow windshield broke open as the talons of the flying monster smashed it apart, leaving claw marks in the hood. He scrambled for one of the .45s, firing at the long black beak. It screeched, trying to get closer. He turned the key in the ignition and started driving, speeding off, the creature struggling to stay on the car which was quickly accelerating. He smiled with satisfaction as the creature was forced under his tires, loud bumps sounding as the creature was run over. He heard loud screeching but knew the creature would soon return to the swamp, if the legends were true, at least.

**

He staggered into the hospital, being cured by the doctors and nurses. When they asked what had caused the wounds, he simply said “Black Mask Armitage”. They were highly confused, sharing his now-dead skepticism, but treated his jagged cuts. He drove home, warmly embracing Scarlett. “Oh, Scarlett. I’m sorry. I should have believed you. There were…. things….out there in the swamp. I killed cultists. And then there were victims of The Walking Plague. God, so many of them. I ran. And ran and ran, until I came to a clearing. I found what Sinclair hired me to find, but then Black Mask Armitage attacked me. Ripped my coat off, clawed me. But I think I’m better now, just need to lay down.” She kissed him. “I’m so glad your ok Spence! I mean, you come home wounded a lot, but I was honestly worried for the first time. But maybe your luck isn’t ready to give out just yet.” She embraced him again, and stood, heading off to prepare some supper. Spencer sat and gazed into the flames of the fireplace, thinking about all the horrors he had seen. His lack of belief in the supernatural had been shattered beyond repair, like the shattering of a window as someone is defenestrated. He understood now that there existed things that he could not understand, and that a bullet could not solve every problem anymore. He had shot the bird creature many times, in the wings, chest, and its awful beak mask thing but it continued to attack. He hoped never to have to go back into the swamp. He would demand more money for the job from Sinclair, of course, to pay for his medical bills. He would believe now, or at least be accepting of that fact that strange horrors lurked in and around his beloved city.

**

Spencer drove his sleek but damaged car toward the Sinclair mansion. The Sinclair estate was a large, modern, white, Art Deco mansion situated on a jagged-edged cliff overlooking the city and the Atlantic. The well-manicured grounds were enclosed by a tall wall, preventing anyone from peering into the tycoon’s affairs. Spencer pulled into the driveway, and an armed guard came out to greet him, looking confused at the state of his car. Presenting his private detective's license as ID, he was allowed in. He was ushered into a luxurious Art Deco office. A tall, lanky man in the finest suit Spencer had ever seen stood before him, a pencil mustache, slicked-back hair. He smiled and extended a hand. “Good evening detective Winters!! I am ever so glad you are not dead! Do you have it?” Spencer handed him the bag containing the obsidian statuette, the ruby red raven eyes gleaming in the electric lights. Sinclair beamed happily. “Excellent job detective Winters! Thank you!” Spencer nodded.

“Your welcome sir, but I would like to know if you would mind covering my medical bills? I had a run-in with Black Mask Armitage. And, if you don’t mind me asking, why the hell did you want this thing so bad?”

“You did? I will, of course, pay you extra. Is that why your car is a disgraceful heap of shattered glass and scratches? No matter, I will replace the car with the newest model of Raven. Let’s see…. nine thousand, five hundred dollars? I already paid you five hundred, but let’s ignore that and give you another five hundred. And, to answer your question, I am a collector of the eldritch, the macabre and the supernatural. It….intrigues me.”

Spencer raised an eyebrow. ‘Just how rich and possibly crazy was this man?, he thought.

Sinclair reached into his pocket for his wallet, and pulled out a few dozen hundred-dollar bills. He handed it to Spencer and smiled.

“Your payment, detective. My agents may seek your assistance in the future, Mr. Winters. Please consider accepting. You did a fine job, and you have proven yourself capable of doing things others will not. I am happy to have met you! Now, I must find a place in my collection worthy of displaying such a beautiful piece of artwork. Good evening!” He abruptly turned on his heels, carrying the statuette and walking off. An aide was sent to get Spencer a new Raven. A short while later, it arrived, pulling up by the door, aides, moving any personal effects from his old car to his new one. Spencer looked at the sleek black car, pleased by this unexpected bonus. He got in, and drove off into the night, NCR serenading him.

[scadplaysdnd]

a reflection

aka “holy fuck mom its been a year”

just warning yall now this is about to get hugely personal and if you’d rather not see insight of the worse sides of me or what’s been going on behind the scenes then i fully understand not reading this. i wont be offended. this is kind of as much for myself as it is anyone else.

so there have been a couple times in my life where ive had to look at myself and go “if i dont reach out for help of some kind, something really bad is going to happen”. around this time last year was one of those times. i was three credits shy of getting my degree and the last thing i needed to do was an internship, which would have started around this time and finished up by the end of 2016. i would have finished my education and gotten my degree.

and then i would have died.

id known this fact for a couple months now but as we were reaching two months from the end of the year i had this thought--maybe i should like, not do that??? so i put the internship on hold. i took a semester off on medical leave. while all of this was going on, kelly and erik had come to me asking me if i wanted to play dnd. i said sure, though i was pretty wary. id only ever played dnd once beforehand and it ended really badly--basically my character died and the rest of the party kind of callously left her behind which hurt and sucked.

ANYWAY i came up with the basic concept for tami. i know i wanted to play an orc because it was always weird to me that orcs are like the stereotypical and defacto villains that most parties are pitted against from the very beginning--what must it be like to be one of those people? but i wanted her to also diverge from the typical orc playable character, in that she was going to be quiet, stealthy, dexterous, and “level headed” (in quotes because yknow her emotions are something she’s always struggling with).

basically tami naruto jumping through the trees was always a key character concept from the word go.

but character creation is easy for me. ive been doing it nonstop since i was 10 years old. i also joined a new roleplay group around this same time. creative endeavors are something i can still pursue rather easily even in the throes of the worst mental breakdowns. in fact, its probably the reason ive survived most of them.

and i had no idea how much dnd was going to be that.

by this point, things were getting really bad and we were basically deciding what to do with me. my support network as ill call them (basically my therapists and doctors) were thinking i needed to be admitted into some kind of program and i agreed with them. but they wanted me to go to an inpatient program--essentially either being hospitalized or cut off from everything while i was taught how to yknow. not die.

but i didnt want to be cut off from everything. i wanted to play dnd. it was pretty much the only thing i had going for me at the time, since i wasnt doing any work or school. not to mention most of my irl friends were still in school or just generally busy and it was pretty much the only social thing i had to look forward to.

of course, that wasnt the only thing. in general, i just really didnt like the idea that i wouldnt be able to have a phone or computer for xyz months, quite literally being cut off from everyone and everything, including all of my essential coping mechanisms that have been keeping me alive thus far. but really, i knew that if i left the campaign just as it was starting for what would probably be months, i wouldnt be able to come back. and i didnt want that.

so i put my foot down and we got me enrolled in a local outpatient program. every day for 5 hours, i had to go to group therapy and learn how to Not Die. i had to go completely sober. i had to get drug tests. it was......hard, to say the least. it was scary and frankly humiliating to get to that point where i had to be constantly monitored to make sure i wasnt a danger to myself or others--even more so that it was justified.

every day we’d have to check in, let them know what our level of suicidal ideation was among other things, and i remember for those first few months, it was never none for me. but as long as it was passive, it was alright. in response, we were supposed to take a step back and look for things to live for, and look forward to. every friday we had to write about what we were planning on doing for the weekend.

and every friday i wrote the same thing: dnd.

it was honestly everything i needed during this time. i was going through a pretty rough period of agoraphobia and social anxiety, but once a week every week i got to be social as someone who wasnt myself. my experience with dnd hadnt been much up until that point, but almost none of you guys had played before. i felt almost an obligation to make a character that was somewhat take charge and open, in an effort to coax you guys out for the same. its kind of hard to remember at this point considering where we all are now, but at the beginning there, i know it was rough for a lot of us. i felt like i had to take charge, which was so the opposite of how i was actually living my life at the time.

and it was...nice. tami is much more confident and forthright than i am, and i had to force myself out of a lot of comfort zones to put myself in that place. but as weeks went on, it became easier, both in and out of character. all yall nerds are busy now but back then we were hanging out practically every night and it gave me a chance to not be alone with everything i was going through. unlike with say, the roleplay group, i wasnt just my character--i also got be myself with you guys. i got to rediscover who i was and could be during a time where i really didn’t see myself as anything worthy, let alone anything at all. plus, my connections to others has always been a driving force of me Not Dying and being able to be a part of such a blossoming close group was essential while living at home with little contact to my other friends.

and this went on for months. in that time, through the program, i was able to learn some essential, new coping mechanisms. i discovered some trauma that was affecting me way more than id given it credit for and was able to start working through it in a way that i hadn’t for years. through helping and supporting the others in my group, i was able to do the same for myself.

while all this was going on, i was constantly doodling tami and others in the margins of my notes. i was singing the praises of the group and the campaign to my program, whose members also became somewhat invested in the story and started asking me every week what had happened. it became such a huge part of my identity and every day that soon members of the program began to identify me with the game itself. it played such a huge role in my recovery.

but by march, i had graduated the program. id started up my internship, and was on my way to getting my degree. i got a nepotism job at my dads company, and i was actually leaving my house on a fairly regular basis. i dont want to say that it was all sunshine and rainbows because it wasn’t. i still had some pretty dark periods, and there were times that if you asked for a check in, i wouldnt be able to honestly say that there was no suicidal ideation.

but i kept on. and the only consistent thing throughout all of this was dnd. i started my own campaign on top of all of that, which has been an adventure in and of itself. tami has been through a lot, both through what has happened and general character development. it would be impossible not to after a year, even if it hasn’t been nearly as long in game. 

i thought i had some sort of linear progression to all of this, and this would be the point where i wrap it up all neat and say that im all better and its all because of dnd but that.....isn’t true. its not true in life OR dnd, and i think thats why i like the game so much?? its narrative for sure, but there’s also so much uncertainty and surprise that you don’t get in general writing or roleplay. not everything works out plainly and neatly, with things being completely fucked just by a dice roll. it can be just as messy as life is. which is funny because thats exactly what i used to HATE about the game, and why i didnt want to play in the first place. i didnt want to not have control over the narrative. i didnt want to not have control over MY narrative

but i needed to give up that control if i was ever going to get help. i needed to put my safety, my mental health, my life into other peoples hands. i needed help and i needed connections--and thats kind of what dnd is all about. and in the end, it still might not matter. our characters can still die, the story can still go in a way that not even the dms are prepared for, we might not save the world.

BUT WE ALSO MIGHT!! we’re going to work together and try our best and do everything in our power to fulfill our own quests, help one another, and create a greater good for ourselves and the world around us!!! and its like yeah, im not fully recovered, i dont think full recovery is ever going to really be an option for me, but i can keep going, and i know im always going to have the support of yall and the people who care about me. that means more to me than you could ever know.

and not to be a downer but like...im still going to die, someday. maybe in the ways that i thought, or maybe not. and in the meantime i might not figure out my life plan or get an amazing job or even move out anytime soon. but for once, that thought isnt as paralyzing and world ending as it was this time last year. its okay for things to be uncertain. its okay that things might not work out neatly in the end. and i think dnd played a huge role in helping me come to terms with that.

so remember like four paragraphs ago when i said i was going to start wrapping this up?? lmao for anyone who made it this far, i salute you and thank you. this game has been really important to me but more so its YOU PEOPLE. you guys are just such a wonderful and awesome group of people and its been a privilege taking this journey with you for this last year--and for many more years to come! we’ve been at this for two months in game and who knows where we’ll all be this time next year or the year after or even more after that. i dont know!!!! and thats okay

love yall im gonna go order a pizza now peace  ✌ ✌ ✌ (i have had nothing to drink thanks)

[averagemagicalgirl]

Monthly Media: July Reading Challenge

Welcome everyone to this month's media breakdown! August is coming which means its time to wrap up July. This month saw me engaged in a personal reading challenge that I'll detail a bit more below. I don't know if I would call this month productive but I came away with a new found sense of confidence in my own writing so I suppose that's a good thing! This post is LONG LONG LONG (almost 3500 words!) and contains some spoilers so feel free to save it for later if necessary!

As a little background info: one day I went to Amazon and downloaded 62 free "cozy mystery" novellas. All these novellas were first volumes of ongoing series from their respective authors. I thought July would be the perfect opportunity to sit down and read them all, naively thinking at the time I could get through all 62 in a month. I of course did not, not even close because I forgot about life and other responsibilities and I also didn't think that some of these stories would be so terribly written that it would kill my desire to read anything for a day or two for recovery purposes.

I wish I were exaggerating.

I kept notes on the books I was reading and I've rated the books on a scale of 1-5 "stars", 1 being the worst and of course 5 being the best. Out off the 11 books I finished I was pleasantly surprised to see how many I genuinely liked but there are only a few series that I would continue reading. So without further ado here are my thoughts on the 11 books (and the 6 unfinished ones) I read this month!

One O'Clock Hustle by Joanne Pence ~ 1 out of 5; I really hated this book and as a result am disinterested in reading the rest of the series it precedes. The main characters were frustratingly one sided with badly forced chemistry and in the case of our heroine, poorly justified reasons that she was behaving out of character. She's described multiple times as being "by the book" and then proceeds almost immediately afterwards to be the complete opposite of that. It defies any kind of logic as to why a proud cop such as herself would jeopardize her beloved career on someone she says repeatedly that she doesn't know well. Innocent or not her "love interest" was putting her and her career in danger and she just let him. WHY? WHY, WHY, WHY?

I don't have time to speculate anymore and feel I'm much happier throwing this one into the trash heap and never thinking about it again.

Murder in Stained Glass by Margaret Armstrong ~ 3 out of 5; I'd read more if the second volume were under $2 or free. I had to go back and consult my notes about this story because all I could remember was feeling really let down by the ending. Mostly because the protagonist summarily makes herself useless at the very end. She mentions at the last minute climax of the novella that she didn't really do anything except buy the two young people in her life a tent and isn't that enough? I'm still not sure how to take such an abrupt about-face ending. The reader gets the sense that the older heroine is making progress somewhere in her investigation (there's an almost Miss Marple-like feeling about the whole story), and then suddenly the ending HAPPENS totally out of left field (which I enjoyed) but then because of this very interesting and "random" ending the heroine has to claim she didn't do anything at all?

As someone interested in reading more potentially it was kind of a slap in the face? Perhaps I'm putting more thought into it than necessary but I just spent my time reading your story and being invested in your character and they were functionally useless this whole time? Still, if the next book were free at some point I'd most likely read it.

Killing at the Carnival by L.A. Nisula 4 out of 5; I was going over my notes for this one to see if this story genuinely deserved it's 4 out of 5 rating and I still hold that it does. There was some preexisting history between the main character and the main policeman that they don't really touch on until much, much later in the novel. I'd read more but the other volumes would have to be free or bought with gift money at some point after other purchases. I honestly really enjoyed that there wasn't a romance involved despite the fact that I could see one organically developing down the line. The characters were interesting all around and I liked that the woman worked as a typist, I thought it was a really great job for main character of the time that you wouldn't perhaps see much of.

Murder for Neptune's Trident by Victoria LK Williams ~  4 out of 5; I liked the characters and relationships in this book but it seems like it was written by someone who's more comfortable writing academically than creatively. What I mean by that is there were parts of the novel that read as very procedural and it was a very precise day by day account. It was a struggle to get through at times because parts of it were frankly boring. I would read more of this particular heroine though because I'm genuinely curious as to how she'd find herself in a similar situation. The story itself was so organic and natural in how it came to be and the heroine's reactions were BEAUTIFULLY believable like, she endeared herself to me immediately due to her very personal and realistic reactions to what was happening around her. My hopes for further reading would be that the author hits her stride and that the books become a little less precise and enjoy some extra fluidity.

Better off Wed by Laura Durham ~ 5 out of 5; One of the most endearing things about this story for me had to be the characters. The plot was well written/executed so that was a plus on top of just really feeling this aura of "fun" around the heroine and her friends. That being said I was mildly disappointed in the heroine being another one of those "no makeup/fussy" types because I've read a million of them and like...why anymore? BUT I DIGRESS. Having everything revolving around the life of a wedding planner was really interesting and different (most of the stories I downloaded seemed to involve baking???). I'm certainly keen to read more from this author about these characters. Well-paced and believable, I didn't have to bend over backwards trying to make sense of things going on.

Baking is Murder by Kathy Cranston ~ 4 out of 5; A really nice, romance free story with good character development and not a bad plot. It's a bit unpolished, I definitely had a hard time accepting certain things about the story but I enjoyed it so much anyway  that I have a hard time giving it less than a 4. It's quick paced which is nice considering it's length and we finally got to see some BAKING! Oddly enough this was the only one I got through this month that included baking but I know I downloaded at least 5 or 6 novellas that either include baked good on the cover or have baking/cooking mentioned in the title. I still have a hard time believing most of the heroine's behavior was acceptable but I will admit that perhaps my "suspension-of-disbelief-o-meter" was very stressed by the time I started reading this book.

Two Tocks before Midnight by Clay Boutwell ~ 5 out of 5; A wonderful little story. This reads as a stand alone even though it's part of a larger series and I'm excited at the idea of there being more of these great little short stories running around. The main characters were older men involved in a society and I thought the plot and it's execution were quite well written. I'm certainly interested in reading more. They use some misdirection as well as later some dramatic letter writing that doesn't amount to anything but we get closure for it.

Nocturne for a Widow by Amanda Dewees ~ 5 out of 5; This book was a little strange for me because about a third of the way through I realized that it was a proper ghost story, which I wasn't fond of. I thought it was going to be more of a horror type situation but the story itself turned out to be pretty low-key in that regard. However, it's a very dramatic story with a lot of intense emotions constantly playing out. The love story at least felt organic in the way that only melodramtic Victorian stories can, which of course meant that the would-be lovers hated each other in the beginning and then were madly in love by the end. Still, not a terrible book and I did genuinely like the characters so I've made plans to eventually buy the other books in the series.

Peril at the Pink Lotus by Alice Simpson~ 5 out of 5; Originally I think I felt that this was a 4 out of 5 story but I couldn't give myself a good reason as to why I felt that way and so made it a 5. I enjoyed the main character and the story's pacing. Nothing in particular stands out to me either from memory or my notes which I think is okay sometimes. Not everything has to have one memorable part. As I look over my notes again I see that I liked how it ended and mentioned that it felt really natural given the way the story had been written. I do remember being surprised about something in the conclusion but in a good way. I would certainly read more.

Cinderella and the Dead Fella by Sue Heffer ~ 1 out of 5; Simply put this is a BADLY written piece of work. It reads like a super rough first draft with grammatical errors and plot inconsistencies. When I first finished it I had a lot of unkind things to say and then I spent the next few hours thinking about it and realized that the plot itself was a decent premise with the poisoning of a victim to the point where they start to behave questionably and is thought to be mentally incompetent. However, the execution of this plot was just SO VERY BAD.

It's very easy to say unkind things about this novel and I'm trying not to because unlike some of the other novels I read that I disliked I had this nagging feeling that this particular story was written by someone very new to writing. I went back to the Amazon page to try and find some more information about it but discovered that within a month the book was no longer available for download. My sincere hope is that the author removed it to polish it up, I think in time it could be a good story with interesting characters but it's not there yet.

The Art and Craft of Murder by Cozy Cat Parker ~ 5 out of 5; I don't have much to say about this book beyond that it was a good little read with the perfect amount of suspense. Decently written with an endearing main character and interesting secondary characters. I would definitely be interested in reading more from this author. There were some questions I had about the protagonists past but not nagging need to know type questions. I feel like the situation in which it will come up in the future will happen organically and I'm okay with that.

Murder in the House of Beads by Mary Jane Forbes ~ 1 out of 5; THIS BOOK JESUS WEPT. I think I might actually hate it. As I always strive to be honest, had this book continued the way it started I probably would have given it a 3 star rating. I might have been tempted to read another book in the series if I could get it for cheap or free; but it didn't. Somewhere around the 50% mark (according to my Kindle) the narrative NOSEDIVED HARD. I would have put it down but it took me another 10% of progress before I realized that something had gone horribly wrong with the story. By then I was so close to finishing it I thought it would be ridiculous to put it down. It was like the proverbial train wreck you can't look away from.

One my biggest issues with the story was a subplot that revolved around a secondary character named Wendy, a teenage girl. It didn't add anything to the story. Towards the end she was kidnapped and locked in the truck of a car to die and for what? Nothing. She could have been omitted at any point, or replaced with one of the other main characters. So naturally to me it reads as very antagonistic towards this young woman for literally no reason and I feel like whoever edited the volume really did the story and the readers a disservice by including the subplot as presented. Not my favorite book by any stretch. It didn't help that the last half of the book was sloppily written either. If you ask nicely I might share my VERY ANGRY notes about it.

THE UNFINISHED

I want to point out that I was looking forward to all these books when I started them for various reasons and that I might still finish a few of them at a later date. Some of them I deleted permanently out of my Kindle because I had no interest in going back to them. My mother gave me a great piece of advice that I'd honestly never considered before: "Life's too short to read shitty books," and wow is that honestly life changing.

Life's a Beach then You Die by Falafel Jones ~ Unfinished; When I realized this book was written from a male perspective I was definitely interested because I was (still am) under the impression that most of the cozy genre was feminine. Our hero is a former forensic computer guy who's just retired to live in I wanna say Florida. Of course he takes a private case involved in a suspicious circumstance which set his plot up predictably but not unforgivably. Honestly I put this book down because it was boring.

In it's defense this was the second to last book I picked up this month and had already read through some other questionable narratives. It was incredibly detailed and procedural and I feel bad saying it was boring because the information is relevant to the story in a small way and also because the author was trying to do a service for the reader. However, it doesn't make up for the fact that it failed to grab my attention in any kind of memorable way. I will most likely pick this up again in a few weeks to see if I feel the same way after reading some well loved classics.

Louisiana Longshot by Jana DeLeon ~ Unfinished; OH THIS BOOK MADE ME SO ANGRY. I was SO irritated I went to Amazon just to read why other people also disliked it. My particular ire was the result of realizing that I HATE the overused trope of "I'm a COP/SPY/SECRET AGENT not a WOMAN" passionately. The main character claiming that the former beauty queen librarian who knits (whom she's supposed to be undercover as) "has single-handedly set the women's movement back ten years." and then asks if she can "kill her next". These are literal quotes from the book and there is no indication that she's joking. If I had had the book physically in my hand I would have launched it across the room. I have no time in my life anymore for characters like that, there's nothing funny, cute or endearing about it.

In addition to a now awful main character I refused to be invested in, the plot itself was OVERLY convenient and very suspect. Less than 10 pages in and I already felt my suspension of disbelief being abused. So this one would definitely count as a "ragequit" as the kids say and I passionately refuse to read it further.

The Obituary Society by Jessica L. Randall ~ Unfinished; I was irritated when I put this book down and now that I'm looking at it again and through my scant notes about it I'm not sure why. I remember being irritated with the main character but not for any unforgivable reasons, I think it had to do with how the story was progressing because it wasn't doing a very good job at keeping me interested. I do plan on picking this one up again in the future because there's really no GREAT reason not to.

Murder, Curlers & Cream by Arlene Mcfarlane ~ Unfinished; Something I ran into a lot when reading these novellas is that SEVERAL authors seem to enjoy hinting at an event happening in the past to set up something about the current story, or to reveal something about the character. As a literary device that's acceptable, however many of them seem unwilling to go into much more detail and it's VERY irritating. In this case we learn IMMEDIATELY through an incredibly insensitive detective that the main character might have been involved in some kind of crime related mystery solving before. We get pieces of information after that but not much.

I have one note on this book at 30 pages in which means on some level I must have been enjoying it or was engaged enough to forget about keeping notes at the time. So in this case there might have been something about the main character herself that wasn't interesting me at the time so I put the book down. In a lot of these books I remember just being irritated at the way they were being written, like an overly far-fetched plot device that seems incredibly out of left field and unconnected to the story but also inconceivably linked to the future somehow.

The Corpse in the Cabana by Shea Mcleod ~ Unfinished; This book will remain unfinished because the heronine did not endear herself to me in a timely manner. She's intensely unlikable. The writing was also rather inconsistent and confusing in a lot of areas. Going back over my notes I can see that even though I was about 10%-20% into the novella I already had several things that were causing me consternation. It seemed better to cut my losses than continue reading something that was already irritating me and not enjoyable.

What was especially annoying was that the heroine is supposed to be a romance novelist who writes racy bodice rippers and while I can understand thinking certain words (like 'bang') are uncouth, her character balked at even saying the word sex, IN HER OWN DAMN HEAD. Is that necessary? It certainly seems out of character, especially from what we've experienced already.

Armed & Outrageous by Madison Johns ~ Unfinished; I'm still not sure if I'll ever pick this one up again or not. I've saved this one for last because I'm having a hard time putting into words what exactly made me put this book down. I didn't necessarily hate the characters, or think the plot was TOO off track for a cozy mystery, but I think it had a lot to do with how the writer presented our heroines. There was also a creepiness factor in the story that rubbed me the wrong way and not in a "supernatural" creepy way just...creepy in general. It's so hard to explain how uncomfortable the story made me and the only reason I'm reluctant to ditch it from my life is that I'm not sure if I picked it up again in a month if I'd feel the same way.

Reading other (not so positive) reviews on Amazon helped put it in a bit more perspective after the fact but I'm still unsure if I'm willing to leave it. I've decided to wait it out and see if the next time I pick it up to continue reading I start to feel the same way.

THE WRAP UP

It doesn't escape me that most of the books I disliked got more wordage than the ones I did like and the honest reason for that is that if I was engaged enough in the story itself I didn't note anything. I was willing to forgive certain things in the narrative if I was compelled enough to keep going. None of these books were perfect but a few were definitely better than others. I still  have a lot of books to go but I think for my personal sanity I'm going to read them sparingly between other books of substance and personal interest.

See you next month!