#the binding on its AWFUL i had to do some repairs to it after opening it for the first time

[confused-alpaca]

whose idea was it to make a watercolour sketchbook where none of the pages will lay flat bc. i have some Words for them.

[sdvvillagers]

Fic - Gus

Word Count: 4,475

Summary: Gus has a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

Notes:  Thank you to @purpleandgreen13​ (purpleandgreen on AO3) for coming up with this prompt, it was such a fun and inspiring one to work with!  You’re the best! ^.^

From the moment Gus woke up, he should have known that today was going to be an awful day.  Water dripped from the ceiling of his room, plopping onto his forehead and waking him with a start.  The rainstorm forecasted for the day had begun, revealing a leak in the roof that Gus hadn’t known was there until the rain unceremoniously woke him from his slumber.  After clambering out of bed in shock and confusion, Gus wiped the sleep from his eyes and looked upward as another drop of rain landed right in his eye.

“Son of a-,” Gus mumbled, giving himself a wide berth from the bed to avoid getting wet any further.

His sheets had already soaked up some of the moisture, but the last thing he needed was a soaking wet mattress.  Gus rushed to the storage room to grab an empty bucket to collect as much rain water as he could until Robin could come by to fix his roof.  Hopefully it wouldn’t be long or else he’d be back and forth all day dumping the bucket.  It was expected to rain heavily all day long.

The next sign that Gus’ day would be terrible arrived only moments later when Gus stepped on a small puddle of water that had dripped onto the floor, causing him to lose his balance and fall backward.  He slammed his back hard against the footboard of his bed, causing him to yelp out in pain.  His already bad back was now throbbing in pain.  Wincing, Gus rose from the floor and hobbled across the room to at least change out of his wet pajamas and into something warm and dry.

Upon opening his closet, Gus reached for a plain t-shirt and his favorite orange jacket.  It wasn’t until the jacket was on and he reached down to zip it up that he noticed the huge rip in the sleeve of his jacket.  It was likely Emily could mend it for him, but it was another rough blow to his already awful morning.  Gus elected for one of his lesser preferred jackets instead.

Being awake far earlier than he was used to, Gus shuffled out of his room into the kitchen of the saloon.  Usually he wouldn’t wake up until almost lunch time due to being up late every night for his business, but with the rain waking him up so early, he figured he would at least fix himself a meal.  It wasn’t often he ate breakfast anyway, so treating himself to a complete breakfast and a glass of homemade orange juice seemed a decent enough consolation prize.  Robin’s shop wouldn’t even open for another twenty minutes anyway.

Gus stepped into the walk-in refrigerator in the kitchen and began pulling the ingredients he needed to make his breakfast.  Once he had everything in-hand, he turned to leave and heard a high-pitched squeak.  For a moment, it sounded like a mouse.  It was enough of a distraction for Gus to momentarily forget where he was or what he was doing and the armful of ingredients he was carrying fell to the floor as Gus accidentally dropped them.  The squeak, it turned out, came from a squeaky floorboard he had stepped on and wasn’t a rodent at all.  Gus almost wished it was, at least it would have justified his flustered response.  Instead, all he was left with was no ingredients for breakfast and a huge mess to clean while his back was out of sorts.

It took over a half hour for Gus to completely clean up the spill, the cracked eggs seeped down into every crevice and cranny of the walk-in fridge.  Not to mention, it was a very chilly ordeal to clean a mess inside of such a cold space.  Gus had lost all track of time while he was cleaning the mess in the fridge and all thoughts of calling Robin to repair his roof had left his mind until the job was done.  By the time he realized it, he glanced at the clock and saw that she’d been open for fifteen minutes already.  He hoped he wasn’t too late.

“Hello there, you’ve reached the Bennetts!” Demetrius’ voice answered cheerfully when Gus finally picked up the phone to call.

“Hey Demetrius, I’m in a bit of a bind,” Gus began, getting right to his point.  There was no time for pleasantries today.  “The roof of the saloon is leaking.  Right over my bed, actually.  Any chance Robin can head out here and fix it?  I’ve got a bucket under there right now until she can make it.”

“Oh no, I wish I could say she could but she’s actually out of the house right now,” Demetrius answered apologetically.  “Her parents called her first thing this morning, her father is ill and she needed to head out to help her mother.”

“Sorry to hear that,” Gus replied sincerely.  As unfortunate as his situation was, he really was sorry to hear that there were health issues in Robin’s family.  It was a situation where Gus couldn’t in all conscience be mad at Robin for being unavailable despite his desperation.

Once he hung up with Demetrius, Gus heaved a long, heavy sigh.  Someone in town had to be able to help him, there was no way he could put it off.  There weren’t many other people in town Gus could think to ask, but he started at the top of the list and worked his way down.  Sebastian seemed like a decent possibility given that his mother was the very woman Gus needed for the job, but Seb made it quite clear that he had nothing to do with her work at all.  Shane was next on the list, he was actually quite the handyman, but the call went straight to voicemail.  Gus had to assume he was working at Joja today and had his phone silenced.  Alex at the very least was strong, but as Gus suspected he had no knowledge of how to fix a leaky roof.  Gus was even desperate enough to call Lewis who had been the town’s handyman before he was mayor, but of course his old age made him too hesitant to help Gus out.  Not that Gus could blame him, of course, but it was maddening how limited his options were.  He’d have to call a company in Grampleton or even in the city which would end up costing him at least triple what Robin would charge.

One very expensive phone call later, Gus managed to get an appointment with a roofer from Grampleton for 4:00pm , right when the dinner rush would be starting.  As anticipated, the flat fee was already more expensive, plus additional fees for travel and late notice.  Until they arrived, Gus would have to keep shuffling buckets around to catch as much water as he could.

By the time the roofer was sorted, Gus realized that there wasn’t much time left until the saloon opened at noon for lunch.  Having dropped a substantial amount of ingredients earlier in the morning, Gus knew a trip to Pierre’s was necessary.  It wasn’t far to Pierre’s store but in this rainstorm, Gus knew he’d need every protection even for such a short walk.  After another trip to his room for his raincoat, rain boots, and umbrella, Gus was ready to face the elements.  With his back still aching, Gus crossed town square slowly and carefully towards Pierre’s shop.  The last thing he needed was to try and rush to get out of the rain and fall once more.  He chuckled to himself at the thought that Doctor Harvey would commend him for choosing safety first.

The trip to Pierre’s was just as frustrating as the rest of his morning had been.  It took him quite some time just to get out of his wet rain gear and Pierre snapped at him for leaving a puddle by the entrance even though it wasn’t exactly something he could help in a rainstorm.  Pierre’s selection wasn’t great either, he was out of stock on a few ingredients that Gus needed so Gus would have to tweak his menu slightly to accommodate.  He knew he would get an earful that night when Shane couldn’t order pepper poppers.  When Gus went to checkout, he realized he’d forgotten his money at home in his rush and had to practically beg Pierre to let him pay at a later time without having to go all the way back for his money.  It wasn’t until he started to remind Pierre of his own ongoing tab at the saloon, within earshot of Caroline, that Pierre quickly shushed him and agreed that Gus could stop by the following day to pay for the groceries.

The short walk home was plagued with its own difficulties.  Gus had three bags of groceries and with one hand holding his umbrella, the other had to carry three full shopping bags while trying to keep them dry under the umbrella.  By the time he arrived back at the saloon, his hand was aching from carrying the weight of the groceries which had gotten slightly wet despite his best efforts.  Even Gus himself had gotten wet, the jacket he’d put on that morning had a drenched collar and water had gotten into his rain boots and soaked his socks through.  Another change of clothes for the day.

Lunch prep went fine enough other than a small slice of a finger while chopping onions.  On any other day Gus would consider it a terrible misfortune but today, it was nothing compared to everything else that had happened so far.  It wasn’t serious enough to warrant a visit to Doctor Harvey, thank goodness.  Nothing a bandage couldn’t fix.  It did make the rest of his lunch prep awkward and it certainly hurt, but the pain at least distracted him a bit from his aching back.

Because of the rain, the lunch “rush” wasn’t exactly a rush at all, which was fine with Gus on a day like today.  Only a few people stopped by for lunch, mostly to-go orders.  Ordinarily he’d feel bored with nothing to do or worried by a lack of paying customers, but he welcomed the chance to take a break after his busy morning.  His back was still aching from his fall and his finger throbbed uncomfortably under its bandage.  The worst he could say about the lunch crowd was that any time a customer entered the saloon, it meant drying the rain puddles left behind in their wake once they left.  Of course there was also the constant back and forth from the bar to his room to switch out buckets, a task he had to do almost every thirty minutes.

At 3:30 he could hear the door of the saloon open while he was in his bedroom, switching out yet another bucket under the leaky roof.  By now his back was on fire from the constant back and forth, lifting heavy buckets, and mopping up the puddles of water in his room and at the entrance of the saloon.  When he heard the door open, he heaved a sigh of relief knowing that help was on the way.  It was no doubt Emily arriving for her evening shift.  Gus was hoping she could take on a bit of the work tonight to give him some reprieve.  If he could manage to only get away with cooking for the night, he’d be happy.  Yet when Gus reentered the saloon, he was surprised to find Haley standing near the doorway looking around for him.

“Oh, there you are!” Haley huffed, sounding incredibly impatient and irritated.  “Honestly, we thought you were dead, you haven’t answered your phone all day.”

While Haley stood in the entrance, arms folded in annoyance, Gus rushed over to his phone to see what was the matter.  He didn’t have a cell phone as he’d never really had a need for one so he relied on a landline at the bar for any of his phone calls.  Gus groaned when he noticed he hadn’t properly set the handset back down on the charging dock and it had run out of battery.

“Geez, kid, I’m sorry,” Gus sighed, setting the phone back on the dock to start charging.  Haley huffed impatiently in response.

“I had to head all the way over here in the pouring rain just to tell you that Emily can’t come in tonight, she’s sick,” Haley went on, arms still folded angrily.  “First she’s got me running over here for her, then off to Pierre’s to pick up a few things, then over to the clinic for some medicine.  Ugh, this is the worst day ever.”

Gus had to try very hard not to burst out laughing at this response, if Haley’d known the kind of day he was having, she certainly wouldn’t consider a few errands ‘the worst day ever’.  Instead Gus swallowed the urge to rant and smiled kindly in return.  Kind smiles were his specialty, after all.

“Sorry to hear Emily’s sick,” Gus remarked in concern.  “Need me to send you with any hot soup?  Ginger ale?”

“We got it covered,” Haley replied.  “I’m just gonna stock up on cans of soup at Pierre’s, it’s fine.”

Gus cringed knowing that his employee was sick at home and would be having canned soup as her meal, it was something that he would go out of his way to stop if it were any other day.  But between the roof repairs, working solo for the night, and the numerous aches and pains he was experiencing, he begrudgingly accepted that canned soup would have to do.  Maybe on another day he would have to make it up to Emily some other way.

“Tell Emily I hope she feels better soon but that she shouldn’t worry,” Gus went on, his kind smile still plastered onto his face.  “I can handle things here.”

Haley left with a brief wave leaving Gus to sigh heavily the moment she was gone.  He didn’t entirely believe that he could handle things on his own, but there wasn’t much of a choice.  Business still had to continue with or without help.

4:00 came and went with no sign of the roofers.  Gus was getting anxious awaiting their arrival, hoping they wouldn’t cancel on him.  The buckets were filling up quickly as the rain poured down and now he was emptying full, heavy buckets every twenty minutes.  It didn’t help that by 4:00, customers were already starting to pile in.  While the lunch rush was light from people wanting to avoid being out in the rain, it seemed there was the opposite sentiment at dinnertime.  Maybe everyone was sick of being cooped up at home, maybe they didn’t feel like cooking, maybe they liked the ambience of dining in a cozy saloon during a rainstorm.  Either way, business started to pick up quickly and Gus had to strategize every minute to make sure no time, energy, or effort was wasted.  He’d find himself taking orders one minute, slicing vegetables another, running to the back to empty and replace a bucket, then back to refill a drink, then off to the burners to cook a meal, all while coping with a bandaged finger and injured back.  It was chaos.  He’d long since stopped trying to squeeze drying the floor into the mix, instead he setup his wet floor sign and hoped for the best.

Just before 6:30, Gus could hear a clang outside followed by the sound of loud thuds overhead.  The roofers must have arrived and already set to work.  The activity on the roof caused many of the patrons to stare up at the ceiling in annoyance, it certainly wasn’t the most pleasant sound and a lot of the louder thuds and clangs were drowning out the jukebox.  Gus could already see on the faces of his patrons that they were irritated and for that matter, he was irritated as well.  Of course the work had to be done, but it was hard to focus with so many distractions.  He found himself getting side-tracked in the middle of what he was doing and as a result, the orders were coming out more slowly.  This was only causing further irritation among the bar patrons.  Thankfully everyone seemed to realize many of the disadvantages Gus was working with between a bandaged finger, no extra employee to help, and a loud series of bangs outside beyond his control so no one ever complained to him.  Still, he could sense the overall tension in the room and it only added pressure to an already stressful day.  Luckily when Gus broke the news to Shane that pepper poppers weren’t an option, Shane opened his mouth to whine but stopped upon seeing the look on Gus’ face.  Though Gus was ordinarily relaxed and downright jolly, he was sure that today his bad day was reflected in his mood.

It was only a half hour or so later that the doors of the saloon opened and in walked two men Gus had never seen before, absolutely drenched.  It must be the roofers.  Their entrance alone brought a massive puddle at the doorstep of the saloon and as they walked across the room, they left a trail of rainwater in their wake.  Gus would be lucky if no one slipped and fell and slapped him with a lawsuit.

“Well we did a temporary fix for now to stop the leaking, but we’ll have to come back when it’s dry to fix it properly,” one of the men explained.  “Though truth be told, that roof’s definitely seen better days.  How old is it?”

“32 years?” Gus answered uncertainly, screwing up his face in thought to try and recall how old the roof could be.

“I guessed as much,” the other man replied.  “We can fix your roof, but your best bet will just be to replace it.”

Gus’ stomach clenched at this news.  Of course.  Of course on one of the worst days he’s had, he now had to face the prospect of replacing the roof of the saloon.  Even at Robin’s rate it would still be a costly project.  Gus shook his head wearily and looked up to the roofers, not even trying to attempt his usual smile any longer.

“Well thanks for patching it up for the time being,” Gus sighed.  “How much do I owe ya?”

“We’ll mail you the bill in three to five business days,” the first man answered.  A bill that would no doubt include the travel surcharge as well as a late notice surcharge all to do a very temporary patch job.

When the roofers left, Gus stared down at the massive puddle of water in the middle of the saloon and spaced out for a moment, disconnecting entirely from everything going on around him.  The day started poorly enough, but it never let up.  It was the kind of day that beats you down until you just want to call it quits and crawl back into bed to start fresh in the morning.  Gus didn’t often have bad days and when he did, his general optimism was enough to make the best of it.  Today, there was nothing at all to make the best of, no silver lining he could find and no positive twist he could spin.  Today was horrible.  It only got worse when he snapped out of his brief moment of calm to the smell of smoke.  The arrival of the roofers had snatched Gus’ attention from the fish he was cooking on the stove and now the filet was smoking in the pan, most definitely burnt by this point.  Gus rushed to turn the burner off and removed the fish from the heat in a panic.  Just when he felt seconds away from a total breakdown, he could hear a soft, gentle voice to his right.

“Gus… are you okay?”

Doctor Harvey tilted his head with an expression of concern, clearly noticing Gus’ flustered state.  As usual whenever Gus was going through personal problems or having a rough day, he attempted to suck it up and put on a warm, welcoming face for his patrons.  Many of them came to the saloon for an escape from their own problems, they certainly didn’t need to contend with his.  But the moment Gus even tried to plaster a smile onto his face, he could feel his shoulders shaking as a swell of emotion took over.  He was moments away from bursting into tears.

“I…” Gus began in a shaky voice, still grasping at the chance that he could play it off but ultimately failing.  “No… no, I’m not.”

Harvey very suddenly looked on high alert and his friendly concern became far more serious.

“Are you in need of immediate medical attention?” Harvey asked suddenly, already rising from his barstool.  As awful as his day had been, Gus couldn’t help but chuckle at Harvey’s reaction.  He couldn’t explain why, but it was amusing how quickly Harvey was ready to jump into action if needed.

“No, no, nothing like that, Doctor H,” Gus replied, shaking his head.  “Just a bad day.  I won’t bend your ear, I’ll… I’ll handle it.  Sorry for burning your fish, I’ll get started on another one right away.”

Before Gus could even turn around, however, he noticed Harvey shake his head vigorously and pull out the barstool next to him.  Though Harvey was often quiet and reserved, preferring to keep to himself whenever he was at the saloon, in this moment he smiled a kind and welcoming smile as he patted the seat next to him.

“That won’t be necessary,” Harvey replied.  “I can’t in good conscience contribute to your hectic night tonight.  If you’d like to join me and talk about it you’re more than welcome to or you can take a seat behind the bar to unwind for a bit.  Either way, you need a break.  Doctor’s orders.”

It was strange how quickly all eyes in the saloon were on Gus the moment he stepped away from the bar, walked around the counter, and took a seat on the barstool beside Harvey.  Everyone had only ever seen him behind the bar taking orders, filling drinks, or preparing food.  Gus couldn’t recall a time he sat on the customer’s side of the bar during business hours and clearly no one else could either.  A collective silence filled the room and no one even tried to hide their stares.  Once Gus was seated next to Harvey, it was surprisingly Shane who spoke up first.

“You doin’ alright there, Gus?” Shane asked, raising a curious eyebrow.

“Just need a breather,” Gus replied as calmly as he was capable of.  Clearly it wasn’t that calmly, though, because now all the patrons in the saloon looked just as concerned as Harvey had moments earlier.

“Is everything okay?” Marnie asked from the back of the saloon.

“Gus, what’s wrong?” Leah asked, dropping the sketch she was working on to step closer to the bar.

“Lookin’ a little pale there, Gussy, you’re scarin’ me,” Pam remarked, worry lining her face as she stared at Gus.

It seemed all of the attention in the saloon was on Gus at the moment and he wasn’t sure whether that was making this whole ordeal better or worse than it had been.  Gus wasn’t used to the spotlight on him, he was used to being the one shining the spotlight on others, encouraging them to open up and talk about whatever they needed to talk about.  Whether it was gushing over good news, venting over a rough day, or asking for advice from a friend, Gus was always there to support his patrons.  It was odd to have the tables flipped and be the one in need of support.

“Nothin’, nothin’, it’s just… it’s just a rough day,” Gus tried to explain, but no one was buying it.

“Take a load off, Gus,” Marnie offered, pulling her chair out to give Gus a more comfortable seat than a barstool.

“I’ll grab some ice water, you should stay hydrated,” Harvey remarked, already heading to the back of the bar to prepare a glass.

“Want something to eat?” Pierre offered, bringing his plate of fried calamari over.  “I’ve only had a few, you can take the rest.”

Leah hadn’t said another word, she had already started drying the large puddle in the middle of the saloon with towels she had found behind the bar.  Within minutes, Gus was seated in one chair with his feet propped up on another, ice water and food on the table next to him, in the middle of a newly dried saloon.  His patrons surrounded him, close enough to show their support but not so close that it was suffocating, and all looked at him expectantly.

“What else do you need?” Pam asked, rolling up her sleeves as though prepared to get to work on something, she just didn’t know what.

“I’d like to take a look at that bandaged finger,” Harvey pointed out, glancing at Gus’ injured hand.

“Who were those men that showed up outta nowhere?” Shane asked, glancing towards the door.  “Did they say or do anything to you?  I swear to Yoba if they did, I’ll…” Shane trailed off when he caught sight of a disapproving look from Marnie, but Gus caught Shane’s hands ball up aggressively into fists.

“I’m fine, really, I already feel so much better just to have all of your support,” Gus answered honestly.  “Those were just roofers here to look at a leak in the roof, it’s fine.  Really.  It was just one of those days where everything that could possibly go wrong went wrong but putting it all into perspective, it’s not a big deal in the grand scheme of things.”

It was true, Gus was already feeling better just in the few short minutes that had passed.  Moments earlier he had been on the verge of a breakdown but it was incredible how quickly that changed just from receiving the love and support of his community.  It was always Gus who was the one providing support, providing help, providing a shoulder to cry on.  He’d never needed the same in return until now but seeing how his patrons responded in his moment of need was overwhelming.  It warmed his heart to know that if he ever truly needed anyone, they would all be there for him, ready to help and support him.  They proved it tonight.  Today may have been one of the worst days Gus had had in quite some time, but tonight somehow proved in an odd and unexpected way to be one of the best.

[innervoiceartblog]

(via Unraveling – Terry Tempest Williams)

Photo by Rhonda Lashley Lopez

Unraveling by Terry Tempest Williams

Terry Tempest Williams searches for what is revealed when worlds unravel, tracing the entangled nature of undoing and becoming.

Unravel   un·rav·el  |  \ ˌənˈravəl \

verb gerund or present participle: unraveling

1. undo (twisted, knitted, or woven threads)

Similar: untangle, disentangle, straighten out, separate out, unsnarl, unknot, unwind, untwist, undo, untie, unkink, unjumble

2. (of an intricate process, system, or arrangement) disintegrate or be destroyed

Similar: fall apart, come apart (at the seams), fail, collapse, go wrong

3. investigate and solve or explain (something complicated or puzzling)

Similar: solve, resolve, work out, clear up, puzzle out, find an answer to, get to the bottom of, explain, elucidate, fathom, decipher, decode, crack, penetrate, untangle, unfold, settle, reveal, clarify, sort out, make head or tail of, figure out, suss (out)

I am unraveling. I am unraveling like a rattlesnake in the desert tightly coiled, my tail issuing a warning I cannot yet decipher. My mind is unraveling as I move to free my thoughts from being held captive for too long in such a tensely wound space. For months, I have been in a defensive stance visible only to surrounding ghosts. Fear brought me here. Uncertainty brought me here. Two hundred and fifty thousand dead from the coronavirus brought me here. My capacity to strike, from one emotion to the next, frightens me. After isolating myself in a landscape of arid beauty for the past nine months during a global pandemic, why do I find myself in the process of unraveling now? What is waiting and wanting to come forth?

When I don’t know what something means, I do three things: consult a dictionary; ask someone I respect and listen; go for a walk.

The dictionary gave me definitions, but what caught my attention was the word “reveal” in the list of synonyms. To unravel is to reveal what has been hidden. And when I asked my father (now 87 years old and weathering the pandemic at home with his partner and a borrowed dog named Sparky) what he thought it meant to “unravel,” he simply said, “I’m too bored to think about it.”

I understand.

An hour later, Brooke and I went for a walk. We found a small, unexpected pioneer cemetery, adorned with plastic red and blue roses, on a bluff overlooking the Dolores River. We stopped to watch a great blue heron fish the shallows. The long-legged bird was not unraveling; she was paying attention, focused on her task. Within minutes, she speared a trout, most likely a rainbow. We watched her slowly, deliberately walk back to the mudflats, toss her head back, releasing the fish into the air, and on its way down gulp the trout whole. The narrow body of the trout, now a bulge, was moving down her neck in a series of muscular swallows. The heron stood still for some time along the riverbank, then waded back into the depths of her perfect concentration.

What interested me in this particular moment was how the heron could live her life, as her species was meant to live, with an integrity of purpose in place—even as the ecosystem to which she belongs is unraveling around her. Climate change is affecting the flow of the Colorado River, with its incoming tributaries, like the Dolores, waning. We are now in what climate scientists are calling “a megadrought.” Moab’s average annual rainfall is 10 inches. In 2020, we have received 4.9 inches, less than half the norm. Monitoring the health of the Dolores River, the nonprofit group Conservation Colorado gave the Dolores River a grade of D− in terms of its water quality. Why? Dams and reservoirs disrupt the natural flows and displace sediments, deeply altering the character of the river. Abandoned mines and uranium tailings continue to leach into the headwaters, carrying on a toxic history familiar to the Four Corners region of the American Southwest. Increased fossil fuel development, including fracked gas, is affecting water tables and aquifers, all contributing to its failing grade.

Could we read the health of the great blue heron fishing along the Dolores River through this poisonous narrative now alive in her bloodstream? Like us, each species large and small—feathered, furred, or finned—carries the larger story of planetary health in their cells. The difference between our species and other species is that we are responsible for much of the demise of all the others.

As life on the planet is unraveling, in ways seen and unseen, we are also unraveling the natural consequences that these larger narratives of unconscious behavior are inflicting on populations, both human and wild. For example, the heinous, illegal wildlife trafficking infiltrating “wet markets” (where fresh meat, fish, and produce are sold) from Asia to Africa and across the globe is responsible for 75 percent of zoonotic viruses. COVID-19, the disease caused by the SARS-CoV-2 virus, is a zoonotic disease. That means it came from an animal or animals. SARS-CoV-2 is not the first novel coronavirus to infect humans—it’s the seventh.

A report from the Center for Biological Diversity (CBD) found “that the United States imported almost 23 million whole animals, parts, samples and products made from bats, primates and rodents over a recent five-year period. These animals harbor 75% of known zoonotic viruses—pathogens that spread from animals to people.”

Wildlife markets in China—where animals are “kept in cramped cages for purchase and slaughter”—are believed to be the source of the global pandemic we now find ourselves in. The CBD goes on to say that, “…many researchers believe it originated from a bat, a scaly mammal called a pangolin (globally the most heavily trafficked mammal), or potentially both. The virus may have spilled over to humans from an unknown animal. Or it may have evolved after infecting people.”

We are unraveling in inexplicable ways given how tightly and mysteriously the world is woven together. Pull one strand and all the strands are disrupted, threatening the integrity of the overall pattern.

We are Earth unraveling and reforming creation.

Along with dictionaries, scientists, and the land itself, I consult the Dead. I hear my grandmother telling me to focus on “the golden thread” that shows us “the through line” that weaves the world back together again. Where might this golden thread be found now?

In March, early in the novel coronavirus pandemic, a global prayer was held at a designated time on a Sunday morning for the Earth and all its inhabitants. Like so many collective rituals, this reached me on the wind by word of mouth.

I walked outside and faced Round Mountain, an ancient volcano plug in the southern end of the valley where we live. I held my grandmother’s “hand stone”—an egg-shaped, polished amethyst—in my right hand as I had seen her do repeatedly. It was her talisman, which she bequeathed to me in her will. She told me it calmed her heart and opened it. I closed my eyes in prayer—believing in the power and connectivity of people gathered together in the name of health and peace on the planet. My mind was quiet, receptive.

In time, I began to feel a heat rising in me from the ground up. To quell my fears and skepticism, I kept my attention focused on how the warmth was settling in my body. In my mind’s eye, I saw a flame coming toward me from the center of Round Mountain, gaining in heat and size and intensity, until it entered my heart, becoming “a burning core of care”—those were the words that came to me as this force burned with a ferocity of intent that I have never known. My grandmother’s hand stone was hot, almost too hot to hold. Opening my eyes, I opened my hand. The stone was shattered inside, with dozens of fracture lines appearing that had not been there before. It didn’t make sense. My eye focused on a particularly large and complex fracture that occurred at the intersection where the deepest purple merged with the brightest, clearest part of the crystal. Within that broken angle, it appeared brown, burnt. I lifted the crystal up toward the light, and therein, I saw a flame.

I have no explanation for this other than to say that what was burning in me burned through the gemstone in my hand, shattering it. The energy I felt rising from the Earth through the soles of my feet and from Round Mountain itself reached directly into my heart with the radiance of a million prayers circulating around the planet and in that moment created a fire in me of inexhaustible light.

In my desire to understand my own unraveling in this global pandemic, I could not have imagined that it would be my grandmother’s golden thread that would lead me to the source of both my undoing and becoming: isolation and engagement. The golden thread became the gilded sunlight woven into the wings of the great blue heron fishing along the banks of the Dolores River. This same shimmering thread exposed the facts that deciphered the toxic residues from abandoned mines and uranium tailings which are poisoning our rivers, poisoning us, and killing creatures. In a similar way, it cinched the illegal wildlife trade that taunted wet markets with “bush meat,” ripe with tainted blood, a spillover causing a global virus infecting us all, threatening what we have taken for granted: Life.

This golden strand reveals what binds awe and terror together, as it travels through shadow and light—illuminating the loose threads waiting to be picked up by each of us so we can mend, repair, and restore what has come apart. We can reweave the world anew, not from the places of fear and doubt, but from the intimate spaces of belonging we must retrieve for ourselves. We are Earth unraveling and reforming creation. We are meant to engage not isolate. These are difficult days. What causes us to recoil, strike, and retreat is also what allows us to reach out from the anxiety of unknowing and dare to trust what is to come—a reassembling of our humanity.

There is something deeper than hope. Between the hours of darkness and dawn, the voices of our ancestors are amplified in the dreamtime—warning us of our awakening wisdom—a blessing to behold and a burden to enact.

[ruffylorpship]

Introduction: Unfortunate Partners in Life

Right, I made the introduction chapter for this AU I created called Mindshare and I haven’t written anything in so long! I’ll definitely be expanding on this but for now, everything will be its own story with a slice of their life over the years.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21007967

I hope this can grow into something bigger once I get everything down. Gah I wish I had more time ;.; Hope you guys enjoy it! For people who don’t want to go to AO3 I’ll post the introduction under the cut~

Awareness seeped into his brain. He had finally awakened.

Systems were running as they were supposed to. All knowledge pertaining to the Armada’s history and the current objective was loaded. The file given designated him as a science drone to assist in building technology for the upcoming invasion titled Impending Doom. Red errors popped up in his mind’s eye, but he cast them aside, knowing that starting up always smooths out later. He identified himself as the Irken Zim, ready to serve the Empire and the Almighty Tallest. Zim wanted to make sure he was fully functional and ready for duty, so he took his time to run a diagnostic on his pak. Surely his leaders would want him at full-functioning capacity, and he would not let them down during his first moments of existing.

More warnings were popping up, irritating Zim and causing him to dismiss them all in a rush. He had to hurry and open his optics. The world would not wait for him forever to complete his own internal mission and join the rest in glory.

Muffled voices broke through the fog before the world was abruptly ripped away from him. He screamed to himself in the darkness of his brain, not understanding what had gone wrong. Any attempt to send a distress signal from the pak commands were unresponsive, causing his mind to retreat further into the machinery. For a short while, he could feel the cool metal floor of his smeetery chamber and hear the voices of those that would prepare him for the future. For a little bit, Zim had felt complete. Now, in this prison that housed his consciousness, he didn’t know what to do.

XXX

Maybe the armada was testing him? That could have been the answer. The mighty Zim wasn’t going to be decommissioned before proving his own worth! He would wait patiently for them to replug him back into his body and show his Tallest how functional he was. There were a few alerts about intense environmental conditions from the outside, but that was nothing to worry about. The pak was the finest technology in all of Irk. Zim would be safe unt-

XXX

Screaming. A horrible pitiful wail tore through the air. Something was terribly wrong. Only one optic nerve seemed to be working. He breathed in a gasp and paused, realizing something else wasn’t making sense. He was taking in air despite irkens not having to truly breathe. The only conclusion he could come up with was that his pak had latched onto the closest object to reawaken itself, which in this case was another life form. His pak must have gotten lost in space and landed on a distant planet.

Usually, this would be a downgrade from his superior self, but Zim saw this as a perfect opportunity to get back to his body using this borrowed vessel. If he was attached to something that was not his own irken flesh, the creature he was stuck to would eventually die off and give him complete control. Strangely, the repair protocols were being activated, feeding themselves into the life-form and repairing strange damage that couldn’t be properly identified. The energy needed being too great caused Zim to fall back into a dormant state.

XXX

Eyes blinked open, but everything seemed to be slightly blurred. Against the odds, the creature he was attached to was still alive if not a little broken. It seemed to have it’s own mind intact as well. Impressive for a less superior species. Zim could feel the weight of its presence clinging to him like a filthy growth. The mind was not inside his pak, for only one could be encoded to the machine and was binding for life. With no defenses inhabiting the organic squishy brain of the other organic Zim took a chance and pushed through to take control once more, also hoping the other mind would disappear forever. The brightness swam through eyes not his own. A giant stinky monster in some sort of clothing hovered over him, as tall as the Almighty Tallest and draped in white cloth. His eyes were covered by protective gear and his giant gloved hands reached down to pick Zim up, making him realize the host he was attached to was extremely small.

‘Warm...’ Zim thought in awe as he was able to feel for the first time since he had been plugged in. An echo of the same thought came back.

“Why hello there son! My my, you gave the boys and I such a big scare. Turns out that the device is keeping you nice and stable. No more termination for you today.”

‘Termination? Death? How dare this creature try and dispose of me! It will suffer the wrath of Zim!’

With as much power as he could Zim waved his clawless hand in front of the giant face and hissed menacingly. His strength tired out quickly however and he seemed to be pushed back into the background once again, aware that the vessel he housed had started crying again.

“Uhh sir? Why was your child hissing?”

“Oh, it’s probably nothing. He just recovered from a traumatic experience of near-death after all. There there little Dib, no more crying for tonight.” The creature cooed while attempting to rock the crying alien smeet.

‘Shut your whining you worm creature, your yelling is worse than the sqorchmurfs of planet Brakiclax!’

It cried harder as if to defy him. Oh, the creature would pay dearly when he gets control back. He could feel the pain and confusion seeping through the mental connection, creating a small barrage of half baked thoughts that could barely count as actual words or images.

It was literally a primitive smeet without knowledge or understanding. The blankest slate in the universe. Just great… The pain of the creature's emotions was getting progressively worse, causing Zim to try and console the little creature in hopes of getting it to finally quiet.

‘Um... there there little Dib-thing? Shut up so the big monster will put us down!’

Funny enough, the creature now tagged in his database as 'The Dib' stopped its crying and changed his tone to a soft whimper. After he was hooked back up to the medical equipment for monitoring and the giant creatures left, Zim made sure his host was unconscious again before extending a wire from his pak to plug into the mainframe. He had some learning to do.

XXX

Zim tried piloting the tiny legs towards the machine, already imagining many ways to blow up the miserable planet. He discovered the rock was called Earth. It’s natives called ‘humans’ dominated the land with their stink and filth. He figured his pak must have accidentally been misplaced and jettisoned into space, eventually making his way to the far uncharted planet. Even though the earth was not marked for conquering in his database he decided he would take it over and present it as an offering to his Tallest. Even though he was supposed to be a science drone hopefully doing this for his leaders would give him a promotion of joining the Invaders in conquest.

He had overheard with his overly large borrowed ears that the latest machinery the parental unit had created could potentially plunge the world into darkness. Taking over the power would surely ensure that control would be handed to Zim! This would be easier if he waited for the body he was borrowing to grow out of smeethood but there was no time to lose.

The door was big, but nothing his pak legs couldn’t fix. Making sure to not make a sound he crept into the room and prepared to take out the scientists that were hard at work in the lab. Before he could reactivate his legs to engage in attack mode the smeet woke up and started fighting his mind. Not expecting much resistance, Zim prepared his attack again only to have his body sit back down on the cold floor and cross his arms in protest.

‘Give me back control you useless stinky smeet!’

‘No!’

An unexpected reply making him pause in his efforts. The thing had barely been cognitive for weeks. The only exposer it had to the outside world was through the giant humans and through himself… wait…

‘Have you been leaching from me? You’ve been looking at the same resources I have and gathering intel from the mighty ZIM!?’

‘No…’

Well it certainly had a one-track mind, expected of a primitive life form, but ultimately a hindrance.

‘Give me back control and shut down into a sleep cycle for the night you waste of space!’

‘No no no no no no bad no!’

The ultimate temper tantrum resulted in the body rolling along the floor like a sad fleshy ball, which is how the scientists found the smeet later in the night. The pitiful worm-baby had won this round for now.

XXX

“No school! Please no school! Noooo!”

Dib cried as he pulled harder from his father’s gloved grip. He had to pretend to be as smart as a normal kid so his dad wouldn’t try and force him into science bonding time. Dib prefered the quiet life of searching the internet for new things to learn. He didn’t need to be near other people so they could make fun of his life support and his silly hair. Sadly his dad didn’t really seem to agree with him sitting in his room all day.

“Now now Dib, you need room to grow and evolve. While your sister is sleeping I need you to unpack the books I got you so you can learn responsibility. I swear the only words you like to say since you’ve started talking are ‘no’ and ‘alien’ and both words are ridiculous in this household. Now hurry up, I have a science demonstration to attend to.”

With that his dad let go of his arm and hurried downstairs, leaving Dib to sulk on his bed. At five years old Dib Membrane had learned a lot about the world. Some of his teachings were through his father when he wasn’t busy. The internet was full of information, especially about strange and unexplained mysteries of the world that science had no real answers for. The last source was a bit more… unreliable and tended to be bad most of the time.

‘Your parental unit is so bossy…’ His inner voice grumbled as Dib started packing up the books into his arm bag. The life support made it impossible to use a normal backpack.

“You mean Dad?"

‘Yes! That’s what I said filthy worm-child!’

Dib rolled his eyes at the comment, noticing at the top left his glasses had a smudge. Another reason he didn’t want to go to school. The internet said people tended to have eye problems later in their life, while he had the luck to need them very early.

“You use big words a lot. Why are you so smart when I’m not?”

‘Ehh…That’s because… I was created with knowledge already programmed. Despite your fast learning capabilities, humans are born with blank slates and squishy matter that need stuff like time and repetition.’

That caused Dib to pause and scratch his head in confusion from the big words being thrown around, making a note to research them later on the internet. He already had a book filled with words the voice tended to throw around, making him want to understand.

“Aren’t you human?”

‘Yes yes! I am definitely a fully functioning monkey-child! I mean I am you but more superior with my technological upgrades… LEAVE ME ALONE!’

The volume inside his head caused him to wince, even though he knew it wasn’t real. It was strange. People don’t usually develop voices in their heads. Maybe the voice was part of his imagination, like an imaginary friend that also worked as a duel personality. He was smarter than most people his age, he knew that fact because his dad’s lab assistants always told him, but he was also a bit strange.

He stopped at the door, with his bag safely hanging from his right arm, hands pressed together in nervousness.

“I’m scared everyone is going to make fun of me. I’m too different. Why can’t I stay home? I learn enough on my own.”

He really didn’t expect the voice to reply back, but surprisingly it did with a bit of hesitation in its voice.

‘Despite how much I’d rather stay within the close confines of accessible technology, I agree with your parental unit when he says you need to grow and evolve. With height comes power, and with knowledge comes privilege to achieve what you must do. Don’t let those smelly man creatures be the boss of you. Beside’s, gathering intel from this wasteland of a planet will be beneficial for upcoming invas- I mean challenges.’

“You’re using too many big words again, but I feel a bit better. I want to find a real monster someday, and I need to learn about the world to get there. I know that much, I think? So…thanks voice. Or uhh… imaginary friend? I don’t really know what to call you. Maybe I should name you?”

‘I am no pet smeetling! You may address me as the Almighty Superior Leader Ruler Overlord and Master Zim!’

With one last roll of his eyes, Dib pushed the door open and made his way downstairs to meet his fate.

“Right, thanks Zim.”

[kc-anathema]

Leo pushed past his limits and runs away, treasured afterward

or Leo brushing death, resuscitated only thanks to Don

or his brothers not listening to Leo on the battlefield against the foot

(treasured sub)

[all three prompts kind of worked together in my head without separating themselves out, so that’s what I went with. A short prompt became a 6 page monster]

Mastered

"I warned you this would happen."

Before a single candle, Leonardo sat in the dojo, gazing at the same cracked brick he'd been staring at for several minutes. Around him, the candlelight only accentuated the darkness. He couldn't meet Splinter's gaze, so he stared past the broken stone where the side of the tunnel met the ground, a spot more darkness than light.

His master's words, delivered in his constant patient tone, were nevertheless delivered over a tail that whipped the air. Leonardo had long ago learned how to read his father's moods.

Disappointment.

Aggravation.

Leonardo flinched from the anger.

"I didn't think—" he started.

"Indeed." Splinter's tail punctuated the air. "You did not heed my warn my warning. Now you have little recourse but to separate yourself and hope to repair the damage."

Leonardo's hands still ached from how he had tightened them into fists. His nails dug into his skin.

"Considerable damage." Splinter took a long breath, steadying himself. Leonardo had not told him everything, barely even suggesting the edge of what had happened. No matter—what had transpired was obvious. "To bear such insult on the battlefield, and from your own brother...you have lost all control of yourself, and through this, your family's respect."

Leonardo sat like a statue. The weight bearing down meant he couldn't move. To move was to crumble.

"You must go. Master yourself. Then return to master your brothers. If you cannot do this..."

Splinter let the thought, the threat, hang over his son like one more sword. When he received no argument, he stood and left the dojo, closing the door behind himself.

In the empty dojo, Leonardo stared into the hollow of the chipped stone.

The candle burned down, guttered in its own wax, and went out. Soft plumes of smoke curled and vanished.

Behind the salvage shop, a pile of broken mannequin parts spilled over the garbage bins and made convenient blinds to hide what was really a glorified knife fight. Three bodies joined the pile, fitting into the silhouettes of jutting hands and heads. Pulling his sword free of a ninja's chest, Leonardo had barely sighed out his tension, the relief that they had won without injury and without being seen—when the strong arm came around him and pulled him close. He squirmed, awkwardly turning his sword so it wouldn't cut Raphael, trying to step away and only held that much tighter.

"Are you kidding?" Leonardo hissed under his breath. "This isn't the time—"

"Sure it is," Raphael murmured, pressing close so that Leonardo could feel his excitement. "Shut up."

"Nnn—"

"Quit arguing." Raphael covered Leonardo's mouth with his hand, pushing him against the rough brick, backward over the trash cans, spreading his legs.

Leonardo had no leverage, nothing but the unsteady shapes beneath him and the bodies shifting deeper into the pile. He had no view of the street above them or in either direction, and he had no way to calm his panicking heart as he wondered if they were really alone. He had nothing to grab except Raphael's other hand pushing him backward. He might as well have been one more mannequin. One more body.

For hours, the dojo remained dark. Splinter refrained from entering, knowing his son's moods. There would be hurt, the crippling self-doubt, the familiar resignation, and then the quiet determination to fulfill Splinter's orders. It was a recurring pattern that he had relied on for years.

But allowing his son to wallow in self-pity was entirely too indulgent. Leonardo needed to be told what ship to board, what country to withdraw to. As it was, he'd have a few minutes to bid his brothers farewell until his return.

Splinter returned to a dark room. There was no answer when he spoke his son's name. With a sigh of irritation, Splinter struck a match.

The match fell from his startled hand.

The dojo was empty, save for two katana laid neatly on the mat.

*

The search went for almost two weeks.

The chase ran for three.

Leonardo was honestly surprised when he first felt the touch on his spirit, the ghost of someone's fingers on his soul. He didn't even know who had reached him—not Splinter, the touch didn't hold even a hint of claws—but he recognized it as someone who had touched him before. One of his brothers.

He'd guarded his mind ever since, sealing himself off from the world. From one city to the next, small towns to smaller train stops, he traveled in rail cars and truck trailers, hitching rides in the beds of pickup trucks at night when no one could see what they were carrying. He set a dizzying pace for the first few days—New York to Atlantic City, then to Cherry Hill and Allentown, Harrisburg and Frederick, Rockville, Glen Allen, a frought ride on the top of a semi-tractor trailer to the National Forest.

The mountain thickets were beautiful. And terribly lonely.

After that, he rode aimlessly, barely able to stay a few steps ahead. Some days, watching the world blur by in an open boxcar, he drowsed in the sunlight. Forgot to eat. Didn't care when he remembered.

Only to snap wide awake when the touch came again, reaching for his soul which he immediately locked away again.

He curled up tight in the corner of the empty traincar, gritting his teeth, holding his head in a cold sweat. Why wouldn't they stop? He was sent away. They should have nothing to do with him until he could master his own feelings. And since that would never happen, he shouldn't have to see them again.

Had Splinter realized his true intent so quickly?

They were relentless—he had to keep moving, even when he slept. But they could split up, anticipate his next turn, ride ahead or rest in one spot to catch up later.

On rare occasions, he spotted them. Three splashes of green color, three familiar shadows, even just three familiar presences out of sight and blurring into view, searching the train he had just left, combing a truck stop where he had just changed rides.

Once, through pure bad luck, he slipped on wet gravel on the rail, making the slightest scuff as he climbed onto a long coal car. As he backed away to the other side, he caught sight of them on the other side of the train yard...catching sight of him.

They came at a frightening speed. Had they always been so fast?—vaulting the trains between them, sprinting across the tracks. Leonardo had scurried down the other side of the train and ran, simply ran, barely catching the last rung of a ladder on the back of another train. It took all his strength to pull himself up—they had to be several meters back and yet he would have sworn he felt them dragging at his side—and then the train pulled to full speed, easily out pacing them.

When he turned and looked over his shoulder, he couldn't make out their expressions, but the intent, their focus, that this defeat was only temporary, was all too clear.

He would lose them before the next railyard. He promised himself, as he crawled over the top of the train, tumbling into an empty grain car, that he would leap out halfway to the next town. Just a nap, a short rest, as he pressed himself into the corner, closing his eyes. And he would simply walk through the trees beside the road, find a creek and walk through it to hide his tracks...a short rest, nothing more.

*

"—the other bottle, give it here—"

"We ain't got another one—"

"Shit, he's so pale—"

Voices.

His brothers' voices.

He'd failed.

Just like in everything else.

He kept his eyes closed and pretended to sleep. It wasn't hard. He felt heavy enough to sink into the floor, and the wind was so cold that it sapped all the strength out of him.

"Donny, I think it's still bleeding..."

"It has to, I can't leave a tourniquet on for long. Just wait 'till—"

"We can jump now—"

"Not until I bind it up again!"

Blood? Yes, he smelled blood. Felt terrible pain along his side, now that he thought about it. From his right hand down to his knee, his whole side hurt, and someone was scrubbing at his skin, making the pain worse.

"There's still more gravel."

"Get ready—"

There was a wave of fire through his side that made him gasp, going rigid as they lifted him up—Raphael, it had to be Raphael to carry him like that—the sensation of weightlessness, awful if only because he knew that meant a harsh jolt as they landed. The hit was cushioned as much as Raphael could, but Leonardo's senses scrambled as he was set down. Resting on wind? Grass blowing over him? Something cool touched his forehead and water wet his lips.

"Don't drown him—"

"—dehydrated, duh—"

They talked over him, ignoring that he was really awake. More convenient for everyone if they all pretended. And it let Raphael carry him, holding him, without the burden of words coming between them.

Half the time, it was true, anyway. He floated in and out of fever, waking to the touch of a cold rag on his face, water offered regularly, always in the arms of one of his brothers as a pillow. Michelangelo kept up a steady stream of chatter that changed subject so often that he could never tell if he was dreaming or awake, and Donatello's whispers were too technical to grasp. Leonardo latched onto the calm confidence in Donatello's voice, the reassurances that he was healing now that they were driving. Leonardo had to take their word that they were in a van—had they stolen it? He barely saw the light dappling through the windows, dazzling his eyes when they weren't covered. And Raphael...

Raphael simply murmured the occasional apology.

They didn't ask why he had run.

Obvious. Of course it was obvious.

At least it spared him the humiliation of having to explain.

When they arrived home, he was vaguely aware of being carried and put to bed. Knew someone was sitting beside him, reading but there, never leaving him alone. Knew that Michelangelo snuggled up with him to sleep. Knew that Donatello changed bandages while Raphael cleaned his wounds. Knew that they made sure he swallowed pain meds regularly.

Knew that Splinter was nowhere near him.

*

"Pretty sure you'll get full motor function back in your hand," Donatello said, spreading his palm flat and examining the scars. "Um, if you didn't damage all the sensory components—I mean nerves. Ugh, sorry, it just makes more sense if I think of it that way. Oh, and the rotator cuff, but you've been exercising, right?"

Leonardo nodded once, slowly. He still had headaches—he had one now—but they were small and less frequent than before. His brothers' presence around him was welcome once more, not something to be guarded against.

"Lightly?" Donatello asked, dipping his head to see his brother's eyes.

"I remembered," Leonardo said, half-smiling. "Nothing too heavy unless I want to make it worse."

The smile faded as he looked askance.

"I..."

He'd stayed hidden in this room for days. Not even his own room, no—they kept him safely ensconced in Donatello's room. The one with the best lock.

They tried to make his confinement more comfortable. The pile of books beside the bed was hardly touched, the pile of snacks touched only by Michelangelo. He couldn't bring himself to meditate, couldn't sleep, couldn't read or try to hold a conversation. Instead he listened to his little brother read comic books and watch videos, listened to Donatello read journals and try to simplify his engineering projects. Often he simply drowsed wearily on Raphael's shoulder, neither of them speaking.

It was so hard to make the words come.

"I shouldn't have run."

Donatello's gaze slipped to the floor, weighed down by guilt. They hadn't spoken at all about the days leading up to their brother leaving home, trapped inside an awkwardness so thick that they couldn't force their way out. To broach the subject at all seemed insurmountable.

The silence stretched, and Leonardo grit his teeth, beginning to visibly close up again.

"No." Donatello caught his brother's hands up in his own, cupping his face. "No, I...no. Don't feel bad. We weren't going to notice if you hadn't said...hadn't done something drastic. I just got so used to—all of us got used to taking you—your nature..I mean. Uh. 'Cause you prefer being..."

Donatello sighed, upset that he couldn't say it. All he could add was "I wish I was someone you could have run to instead of from."

He took a deep breath, holding his brother's hands close. Leonardo hadn't pulled away, and he meant to hold on as long as his brother let him.

"It won't happen again," Donatello said firmly. "It'll be different. You'll see. Better."

Leonardo opened his mouth, then thought better of it and shook his head once. He didn't reply, but his shoulders remained slumped. His whole posture read of resignation.

It hurt to know that he didn't think his brothers would change. But that same hurt, and the ugly scars on Leonardo's side, had stiffened their resolve.

*

Three months later, the scars had healed and were beginning to fade. Raphael had developed the habit of idly stroking the raised edge on Leonardo's side, tracing the smooth skin along the shell. Leonardo, sitting on his lap, shivered and tried to bring his arms down to protect the long wound.

Of course he couldn't. His wrists were circled in cuffs connected by a chain that lay behind Raphael's head, holding him so that his arms circled around his brother's neck and forced him into a long embrace.

But the chain was long, his arms held without any strain. Any trembling came not from the weariness of being stretched too far but rather the heat of Raphael's indulgent kisses, of Donatello reaching along his throat to pull his head back for a kiss of his own.

And on the other side of the couch, Michelangelo held Leonardo's feet in his lap, buckling cuffs around his ankles, connecting them with a similarly long chain. Long enough to be comfortable and relaxed, short enough to bring him up short if he walked.

Not that he would be walking for the rest of the night.

They sat in a cluster on Donatello's bed, ostensibly watching a marathon of monster spider movies. Rather, Raphael made teasing comments about how he wanted to try out what various spiders were doing to their victims, his warm hands leaving trails on his brother's body so that Leonardo's breath turned heavy and labored.

Overwhelming, consumed by six hands stroking his eyes, his throat, his—he couldn't catch his breath, and when he was spread out for all three of them, he felt like he was being tasted instead of devoured, savored instead of chewed and spit out. And if he wasn't allowed out of their sight, his cage was gilded and cushioned in velvet, their treasure safely locked away.

They didn't watch movies or game in the main room anymore.

And their father did not come up to their rooms, so close and yet a world away.

[the-ship-port]

Detroit Become Human Ship Request

@nightrainn2

I’m really excited you requested this fandom!  It really doesn’t get enough love.  Thanks for requesting darling, and if any of these were unsatisfactory, if you’d like more, or if you simply want to chat, just drop me a message or an ask! :)

Your Best Friend

Kara! (The following goes into events portrayed in the excellent short film Kara, available in the “Extras” section off the main menu of the game). You were a cognitive engineer at CyberLife--tasked with manufacturing the complex “emotion algorithm” to be applied to each android depending upon the task the android was designed to perform.  You even designed Kara’s--making her the caring and resourceful woman she is(at least, would become).  You had created many algorithms over your days at CyberLife, but Kara--she was...special.  You poured something into her more soulful than you had in past projects.  You were going through a hard lapse in your life, and for whatever reason it felt like you were...confiding in this...thing.  When she was assembled, the results showed--she thought herself alive.  She was almost deprogrammed because of it, but the employee overseeing her construction took pity on her, seeing something akin to true fear within her.  The security footage for this event fell to your desk, of course, and when you started watching it, you couldn’t stop.  There was something...in her.  Familiar.  Comforting.  Real, and...the word...it whispers over your countenance like a revelation sent by God… Alive. You tried to go back about your business after that, but it proved impossible.  Your thoughts always traveled back to the AX400 who said she was alive.  Things changed for good when you heard the same AX400 had been returned for repairs to its store.  You knew if you were ever going to get past this, you’d better face the android yourself… At the store, you examine the damaged android.  You inquire what had happened to her--she was in awful shape.  You were informed the owner had claimed she was hit by a car.  You frown, looking at the damage.  Her arms are removed clean from her sockets.  This kind of thing...doesn’t happen with a car wreck.  You sigh, realizing you’ll receive no closure here...you’re not really sure what you expected.  You tell the employee to keep you posted on the android’s condition, then return to work.  When you hear the same android has reported harmed her owner and fled the scene, you realize this is truly getting out of hand--and with a revolution on CyberLife’s hands, too!  You decide to investigate the matter personally, on your own time, even though CyberLife had provided an android for the case--you’d rather...no.  You need to see her. You manage to track the android to the Ravendale district.  From there, you spot her racing down the street with what looks like a child, and give chase.  She trips, and you overtake her, grabbing her shoulder-- Your eyes meet.  Her gray eyes--like a storm brewing--lock into yours...familiarly. “I know you,” she breaths.  You release her shoulder without knowing why, and nod without a single thought.  She stares at you, then places a hand on your own shoulder. “You’re [Y/N].”  You watch her, and nod.  She smiles softly.  “Everything is going to be okay,” she says, squeezing your shoulder once, before standing and rounding the corner with the child.  You stay there on the sidewalk for some time.  The two of you...there’s something connecting you.  A pull like gravity.  Like some part of your soul is now forever coursing through her thirium...like she is something to you stronger than blood...like she is your...sister.

Your Bestie Aesthetic:

Your Bestie Playlist: Welcome to the Machine(Pink Floyd) Eclipse(Pink Floyd) Learning to Fly(Pink Floyd) Comfortably Numb(Pink Floyd)

A/N: I legitimately have no idea what happened you and Kara are just a Pink Floyd kind of BROTP X,D

Your Love Interest:

Markus!

After that day with Kara, you realized you had to find some answers.  You signed onto the Deviancy case--not a difficult task given you were part of the team programming their personality emulations anyway--and over time your private investigations led you to Jericho.  Inside, you were immediately cornered and accused, given you’re a human, and, conveniently enough, delivered to their leader for him to decide your fate.  Markus watches you, trying to conceal his conflict.  This is the first time the sanctuary of Jericho has been breached.  Finally, he asks for you to be delivered, bound, to his quarters for an interrogation--in private.  His followers aren’t all about this resolution, but they don’t speak up, and turn you right over.

In his quarters, you and Markus watch each other carefully.  Calculatingly.  Markus is an INFJ, so on face-value seems to be very similar to you, but his cognitive functions are near-perfect shadows of your own(the ENFJ is your perfect shadow and therefore, many say, your “perfect match”).  Briefly explained, your function stack is Fi-Ne-Si-Te, and his is Ni-Fe-Ti-Se, where his Fe shadows your Fi, his Ni your Ne, etc.  The shadow functions suppress each other due to their conflicting cognition, but, ironic, are complementary; this is why “Shadow Matches”, as I call them, are often considered ideal.  In this case, your Fi is focused inward on how you feel and what you feel is right, making your values very important to you, while Markus’ Fe is outward focused on the welfare of others and how others view him, which makes him a good leader, but can be a hindrance when it comes to making decisions.  Likewise your Ne considers hundreds of possibilities, which is thorough, but can hinder you from making decisions quickly and even make you anxious and stressed due to so many possibilities and not knowing which one will happen or which one you even want to happen; meanwhile, Markus’ Ni is vision-focused, well-attuned to what is most likely to happen and helping to prepare for that outcome.  Therefore your Fi can concentrate his Fe and his Ni can concentrate your Ne.  Whoops that wasn’t brief sorry I’m a nerd.  Back to the story.  Markus, like you(and myself), is an analyzer.  He carefully surveys you, your face, your countenance, your eyes, trying to conclude how much of a threat you may mean for his people(Ni-Fe).  Likewise you watch him, imagining all of the vivid ways he can murder you right now(Fi-Ne).  Due to your mutual tendencies toward empathy, neither of you are receiving a threatening aura from the other, but you still need to be careful.  He walks around you, standing in front of you with arms crossed, and asks very evenly how you managed to find them.  Being an inherently honest person and also too scared to make any attempt at a lie, you tell him your story, starting with your position at CyberLife, gaining a raised brow from him until you go on to explain what happened with Kara, your--connection.  You explain that it almost seemed like she was alive, and that you came here seeking answers.  Markus contemplates whether to believe you, leaning against one wall.  Lowly, he asks, “And when you have them?”  You tell him evenly that depends on their nature.  He watches you, then turns away.  “You will stay here.  As our prisoner.  When you have your answers we will renew this discussion.”

You may find more answers than you were looking for over the next few weeks--certainly more than you were prepared for.  Imprisoned on the abandoned freighter, you see hundreds of damaged androids seeking sanctuary in its steely walls.  There’s something hanging about their shoulders that you swear you know...a feeling that everyone knows...a feeling that makes you slowly realize that these androids are just as alive and lost as you are.  Markus approaches you often to inquire whether you’ve found the answers you wanted, and of course, the answer is always “No” or “I don’t know.”  At one point when he approaches you, you break down in tears, saying you had no idea what his people were going through...what you were contributing to.  On seeing how distressed you are, Markus rests a careful hand on your forearm.  You look up at him. “What you’ve contributed to, Y/N, is our life.”  He gestures with the other hand. “What you see--it isn’t perfect.  But you put it here...you helped us come to life…” He nods. “You created Ra9.” “Ra9?” you ask, looking into his bicolored, beautiful eyes searchingly. Just then, a news coverage of what the androids did the day before appears on the screens around the freighter.  He squeezes your arm carefully.  “Later,” he promises, standing and walking away.

Then the battle for Jericho began...and it became clear you were going to lose.  The only thing to do was reduce the casualties.  Panicked, you tug at your binds as androids raced past you, trying to reach safety.  You find yourself on your back, squirming hopelessly.  Soon, humans with guns pour in.  They recognize you from CyberLife and spare you, severing your binds and helping you to your feet.  They ask you where the android leader is.  You look around at the androids cowering desperately behind storage units for sparse safety.  You look back at the man and say the leader isn’t here--he fled to a more secure location after yesterday’s occurrences.  The man seems to buy it, and starts to usher you to safety.  You wince when you hear gunfire and think desperately for something you can do--just then, something hits the back of the man’s head, then you see Markus disarming and knocking the others unconscious before whipping around to you. “Markus!” you exclaim.  He watches you. “You covered for me,” he says, with a grateful nod. “I owe you one.” You shake your head, and open your mouth to protest, but he cuts in, “Please--they’re everywhere.  We have no choice but to destroy Jericho--you need to get off this boat.” “What--What about you?” you can’t help asking, grabbing his forearm before he can run off again.  He glances back at you, then places a hand on yours. “Don’t worry about me,” he says. “Find North and the others.  I’ll catch up.” With this, he gently removes your hand from his arm and takes off before you can protest further.  You decide to do what he says.

Following the escape from Jericho, Markus broods in the church, and approaches you along with the rest of his team.  He thanks you for covering for him back on the boat.  You brush it off--you’re not one to take compliments well.  He says he means it, then carefully broaches the subject of Connor.  You recall the name as that of the prototype detective android--the most advanced model to date.  He explains that Connor has joined their side and will be infiltrating CyberLife--concluding that he may have more success with an esteemed employee such as yourself.  You take the mission with barely a moment’s consideration--out of character for you in most cases, but you feel guilty as all get out for what’s happening to the androids, and you have to help in any way you can.  And there’s something more...sprouting from the days you’ve spent in Jericho, watching Markus’ passion for his people, his grace and eloquence, his heart...You know he’s alive.  He must be.  Because he makes you feel alive.  “Markus?” you ask just as he’s turning away. “Hm--?” You cut him off with a kiss.  Impulsion is far from your leading characteristic...but what if you never see this man again?

(The other three people are North, Josh, and Simon.) Fortunately, you did.  You and Connor freed thousands of androids and lead them to Markus’ side, where you promptly greet him with a kiss.  You prevail in the revolution, and stand with Connor and the others at Markus’ side as he faces his freed people.  He incorporates into his speech the fact that humans and androids are not to be enemies, but equals...and so much more.  Then he proposes to you.  Caution and calculation fly out the window as you see this wonderful, compassionate, brave man on one knee before you, and you say yes.

Although you and Markus are more private people by nature and it wasn’t your first choice, Markus is practically android royalty, so the wedding could hardly help but be a public affair.  Fortunately, you two thought a way around this; you had your own, private wedding with Simon(best man), North, Josh, Kara(maid of honor), Connor, Hank, and Alice(flower girl).  The ring bearer is the boy Josh was watching over when Markus first entered Jericho(whom you and Markus will later adopt as your own).  As the best man, Simon states his gratitude that he has such a great leader with such a great spouse who will help androids and humans prosper together in harmony.  Then, you had the public wedding in front of an enormous android assembly, and were paraded through the recently liberated streets of detroit in the back of a construction truck with flowers attached to the rims.

You take in the child left for dead that Josh was watching over, and he learns your empathy and quiet intelligence and Markus’ eloquence and leadership abilities.(I can’t find a picture of him anywhere but let’s say he looks somewhat like this.)

Your Couple Aesthetic:

Your Couple Playlist: Skyfall(Adele) Zombie(The Cranberries) Restless Heart(Peter Cetera) Show Me the Way(Peter Frampton)

[frazzledontoast-blog]

Fasting for brain health?

Giving up eating? No? Not even for a short while?

If you had clapped eyes on me a year ago you would have seen an emotionally frazzled, chronically exhausted, comfort eating, hormonal wreck masquerading as Wonder Woman. Cape on, I seamlessly juggled my career, home, husband, dogs, chickens, and kids (in no particular order) whilst finding time to prepare great meals and get to the gym.  Just check out my social media, it must be true. Reality was, as soon as I came home and hung up my cape, I felt more like a car crash happening in slow motion. 

To cut a long story short, I ended up committing to a 30 day nutritional re-boot programme, part of which involved starving myself a day a week, sorry, fasting. I’m sure like anyone else who has dabbled with intermittent fasting, I assumed it was a sneaky way to cut calories. And yes, there is some truth in that - over time people who intermittently fast reduce calorie intake by 20-30% and don’t tend to ‘over feed’ on non-fasting days (in addition to feeling unbearably smug the next day).

But as it turns out, after a few weeks on this new regime, I started to feel a certain clarity, the fog in my head lifted, I felt a little sparkly, I might even go as far as to say I was feeling like myself again. My perspective returned, I stopped being a domestic martyr and wrestled back some me time, the dogs weren’t walking on egg shells and my family started to breathe again.

So what do we really know about the effects of intermittent fasting on the mind and body? Can I attribute part of my rehab to IF? Actually, what is intermittent fasting exactly?

IF is defined as the rhythmic disruption to the flow of calories into your metabolism - we need to remember that a calorie is a measure of the energy, not the nutritional, content of our food. And its a really popular lifestyle choice in 2018, there are 35 IF Facebook groups alone!  Some people practice alternate day fasting (eating less than 500 calories every other day), some people advocate periodic fasting (at least five consecutive days of consuming water or a fasting mimicking diet) but time restricted feeding (eating confined to an eight hour window or less every day) is gaining ground as an eminently less scary way to get all the health benefits and still be able to function in modern life.

Without doubt, our ancestors had a sporadic access to food throughout their lives that depended on their foraging skills and hunting prowess.  As a result, over hundreds of thousands of years, our physiology evolved such that our mental and physical performance remained unaffected by fasting. It would seem that hunger is indeed just a feeling, not an emergency!

However, before we go any further, you may be in need of an old school, Biology lesson.  When you eat a meal, the carbs, fats and proteins are broken down into simpler units by your digestive system and fibre is digested by the bacteria in your gut.  These simpler units - the amino acids, glucose, fructose and fatty acids - pass in to your bloodstream and this nutrient rich blood heads off to your liver. Some of the glucose is stored as glycogen and some remains in the blood to be used by muscle and brain cells for energy. Fructose is converted to fat, packaged up and released back into the bloodstream. 

Your pancreas senses a high blood sugar concentration (all that glucose) and releases insulin which activates your cells to use up the glucose. Insulin also activates fat cells (adipose tissue) to store the fat. Between meals, glucose and insulin levels drop and fat cells release fatty acids into your blood to be used as an energy source by your cells, in particular, muscle cells. However, these fatty acids cannot cross the blood-brain barrier and so are of no use to your brain cells or neurons. Your liver comes to the rescue, converting fatty acids to ketone bodies which can be used by neurons in the brain as an energy source. 

Approximately 12 hours after eating glucose and glycogen stores are depleted and the body starts to rely on fatty acids and ketones for energy.  Your body is now in a fasted state.

And this is when the magic starts to happen. There is reliable evidence from both rodent and human studies that IF practised over the medium to long term can prevent, and even reverse, all aspects of metabolic syndrome - that includes abdominal adioposity, hypertension, cardiovascular disease, diabetes and stroke.  That in itself would be good reason to take a serious look at IF, but it is the incredible benefits for brain health that are even more exciting - and this is why I am a convert.

In the fasted state, once the glucose and glycogen has been used up, your cells become stressed which has been proven to cause them to make changes that result in them becoming more resilient, DNA repair is enhanced and they focus on getting their housekeeping done (this is called autophagy). This is the important part because autophagy is the process by which the 30 trillion cells in our body round up toxins, pathogens, junk protein and damaged organelles - essentially they get round to doing their recycling, clearing out the junk and they end up becoming far more efficient.

Specifically though, your brain is benefitting most. Putting your neurons under stress by disrupting their nutrient supply also leads to significantly elevated levels of BDNF (Brain Derived Neurotrophic Factor) which is responsible for the growth and survival of adult neurons and the regeneration of damaged ones. And to cap it all, BDNF prevents age related alterations in serotonin and dopamine levels as well. 

Giving up eating will literally improve your ability to focus on tasks, learn faster and remember more.  You will be happier, sleep better and be in a great mood - that would be the unshakeable smugness you radiate when you break your fast.

IF is more effective at slowing down ageing and disease than the use of supplemental vitamins, minerals and antioxidants (such as vitamins C and E). In fact, the supplementation of vitamins C and E during fasting actually overrides all the benefits of IF - it would seem that cells don’t respond by increasing their natural defences if you help them out and they don’t improve their insulin sensitivity.  They need to experience mild stresses to perform at optimal.  

Now the reversing ageing bit makes everyone’s ears prick up! 

One of the most important organelles in your cell are your mitochondria which are essentially your powerhouses. They provide you with energy but one of the byproducts are free radicals. These are highly reactive, destructive little molecules that attack anything and everything, including our DNA and the mitochondria themselves, and the accumulated damage is a primary factor in ageing. And, as you might have already surmised, our neurons have an awful lot of mitochondria because they need to generate a lot of energy which makes them particularly susceptible - we know for a fact that mitochondrial dysfunction is involved in both Parkinson’s and Alzheimer’s. 

Our cells naturally produce antioxidants (and they are provided courtesy of a balanced diet) which mop up and neutralise excess free radicals, and the key here is excess. Life is never black and white, and this applies to free radicals. In low to moderate concentrations, free radicals are a useful weapon against invading microbes and play a vital role in cellular communications. However, a natural consequence of ageing is that the free radical damage builds due to producing fewer antioxidants and the decline of our housekeeping systems, amongst other reasons. Evidence suggests that ramping up autophagy through IF targets damaged mitochondria and their new replacements are more efficient, less prone to produce free radicals, and ageing is slowed.

Finally though, this post wouldn’t be complete without briefly visiting the news last year that IF has been shown to completely reverse diabetes in mice and similarly promising results have been seen in small scale human trials. 

Diabetes is an insulin problem, not a glucose one.  Insulin is a hormone that signals to cells to take up glucose from the blood stream by binding to receptors on the surface of the cells, essentially opening the gates. In type 1 diabetes, the immune system mistakenly targets and destroys insulin producing beta-cells in the pancreas. In type 2 diabetes, cells lose their sensitivity to insulin, their insulin receptors stop working, and the pancreas stops producing insulin. Either way, cells are unable to take up glucose and metabolise it to provide energy.  

During fasting periods in the mice trials, the pancreas shrunk, autophagy kicked in and damaged beta-cells that were not producing insulin were removed. Remarkably though, after several cycles of fasting and feeding, the beta-cells regenerated, insulin sensitivity improved leading to a significant decrease in blood sugar and nearly normal insulin production resumed. IF had initiated healthy regrowth of the pancreas  - it was back in working order. Simply astonishing that there might be a drug free solution for diabetics, given the huge problem it is becoming in the UK.

Clearly the science holds up, the question is, is IF for you? 

Firstly, it is not just about meal skipping. The easiest way to start is probably time restricted feeding - eating from midday to 8pm and then fasting for 16 hours everyday. You need to consider how you are going to break your fast as planning a balanced nutritious meal is imperative. You won’t reap the benefits if you continue to fill yourself up on high calorie, nutritionally bankrupt, processed food. And make sure you drink plenty of water to keep yourself hydrated. 

I fast for 24-36 hours once a week. Usually that involves having supper on Thursday evening and then fasting through Friday until I break my fast on a Saturday morning with a fully balanced, probiotic shake. During the fasting day I support my body with a botanical based tonic, herbal teas and lots of water. It’s not that scary, honest!

Secondly, be sensible. You shouldn’t be considering fasting if you are pregnant or if you think it might lead you down a path to disordered eating. And don’t set yourself up to fail! It is much harder to make any sort of lifestyle change if you don’t have the support of your family, so get them on board before you start. There is lots of good advice out there, you are sure to find something that works for you.

[storiesofwildfire]

v; death is not an escape ( Dead by Daylight verse )

tracktag ( CURRENT )

status; OPEN ships; MULTI

CHAPTER ONE – Ragnarök

Survivor: Loki Laufeyson Killer: Jörmungandr Lokison (aka The Serpent)

For many years, Loki Laufeyson eluded all those who came looking for him. A lonely God doomed to wander the Nine Realms alone, exiled by himself to keep a far distance from the rest of the Gods who deemed him and his children monsters. Odin sent search parties to find him, spies to keep tabs on him, and even the occasional bounty hunter to take his head from his shoulders for a high price.

No one succeeded. Most never found him and those who did never returned to Asgard. No one could catch him.

Until the Entity spawned.

By the time the Entity made itself a known problem, Loki had taken to traveling on Midgard with his Earthbound son, Jörmungandr. Being the only one of Loki’s children with any real freedom, Loki had an easy time meeting up with him and touring the world. Some much needed and long overdue mother-son bonding was just the thing to take Loki’s mind off of the horrors he left behind on Asgard.

The duo didn’t get very far into their travels, however. While Aesir agents had an impossible time tracking the rogue deity, the Entity certainly did not. By that time, numerous people had gone missing, snatched up, never to be heard from again. Loki and his son never bothered to pay attention to a few missing Midgardians. The world was full of terrors and people did horrible things to one another for no reason at all. Getting worked up over every single person that went missing would make for a pretty awful existence.

But Loki should have listened, should have paid more attention to the warning signs, and, above all else, should have kept to more populated areas. The Entity only seemed to pray on those isolated from society, those who did not mingle with the other people in their surroundings. People who would not be missed, people who would not be noticed if they simply... weren’t around anymore. People who weren’t even supposed to exist in the first place, perhaps?

A deity from a religion long past and his monstrous child, even?

They took a brief break from their travels when the opportunity to liberate Fenrir from Odin’s prison came to them. Naturally, they took the opportunity and brought Fenrir to Midgard, but he was wounded. Resources needed to be gathered to care for him properly, so Loki asked a dear friend of his to keep watch over his son while he and Jörmungandr went searching for the artifact they thought they needed.

Exploring the forests of Scandinavia, no one knew where to look for them. No one knew that they should, in fact, be worried about them at all. The pair decided to explore the lands of those who worshipped them so many moons ago, the birthplace of their Midgardian mythos. It seemed like the best spot for the artifact to be. They spent three days and three nights in the forests without incident. The fourth day proved difficult, though.

The density of the forest grew overwhelming, blanketing them in darkness even during the brightest hours of the day. They couldn’t seem to tell North from South and continuously walked around in circles. Eventually, they wound up at the exact same campsite they’d been the night before and were forced to make camp, lest they risk getting lost even further. Even teleporting wasn’t an option. The forest seemed to dampen both of their magic, making it difficult to use.

“Mum?” Jörmungandr murmured as he settled down beside their fire.

“Yes, darling?”

“What’s going on in these woods?”

“I don’t know, but I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about. We’ll be out soon enough.”

Silence fell over the pair. They both knew it was unlikely that something could truly hurt them, but the unease lingered. Jor, despite being several inches taller than his mother and fully grown, moved to sit right beside Loki, even going as far as to lean again the God for comfort.

“We’re going to be fine, love,” Loki reaffirmed.

“What if the Aesir find Fenrir while we’re gone? Or what if they find us while we’re stuck out here without our magic? They’ll take you back to Asgard and they’ll murder me for being the monster that they believe me to be.”

“You’re not a monster, Jor, and no one is going to do anything to us. I won’t allow that.”

If only Loki understood what was keeping them trapped in the thickening fog of the nighttime forest. The Entity spawned above them, casting its shadow onto the area. It never took such powerful beings hostage before, but their misery and their isolation drew it in. They were perfect for its methods of sustaining and entertaining itself, but it took the creature a few days to truly rob them of all of their escape routes.

Loki and Jörmungandr were never heard from again, but the Entity could not strip them of everything they were.

It could, however, pit them against one another.

SURVIVOR PERKS AND ABILITIES

Rare Loki Laufeyson Perk – Mirage Grants the ability to project brief mirrors of one’s self wherever the survivor is standing. The mirror becomes instantly visible to the killer and will even move about the immediate area to points of interest (generators, pallets, chests, etc.), while the survivor goes completely undetected for 15 seconds. In those ten seconds, the survivor cannot be seen or heard by the killer. The mirror will fade if the killer interacts with them.

Rare Loki Laufeyson Perk – Charmed Electrician Skill checks are wildly increased, granting a better chance at a great skill check and less chance of missing a skill check. Survivors with Charmed Electrician are immune to certain generator tampering such as Hex: Ruin and Overcharged. When two or more survivors are working on a single generator, grants a buff of 20% faster repair rate per survivor.

Rare Loki Laufeyson Perk – Storyteller Unlocks potential in survivor’s aura reading abilities. Killer becomes visible for five seconds upon finding a survivor, standing within 18 meters of a survivor, or picking up a survivor’s trail by blood or scratch marks. Other survivors still present in the trial will also be alerted to the killer’s location.

KILLER PERKS AND ABILITIES

Rare The Serpent Perk – Friend or Foe Grants the killer a fifteen second period of placing an illusion over their form, giving them the appearance of one of the survivors in the trail so they can quickly gain the trust of those around them and make a quick strike after backing their prey into a corner.

Rare The Serpent Perk – Eye of the Serpent Unlocks potential in killer’s aura reading by allowing the killer to track the heat signatures of nearby survivors. If a survivor is within 20 meters, they will become visible for 3 seconds. Killer’s sight is also heightened and widened. Precision is key in everything, including how well you see.

Rare The Serpent Perk – Poison of the Fang Every strike you deliver has the chance of implementing the poison effect on the injured survivor. Poisoned survivors have 90 seconds to cure themselves at various ritual sites around the map. If they fail to do so, they automatically enter the dying state. If the survivor is not healed by another survivor in 60 seconds, the survivor will succumb to the poison and perish.

CHAPTER TWO – The Binding

Survivor: Sebastian Castellanos Killer: Fenrir Lokison (aka The Dweller)

Perhaps a less likely duo than our first chapter, Sebastian Castellanos found himself taking in a shape-shifting wolf by the name of Fenrir. Naturally, Sebastian never would have believed such a creature existed, but after his time in STEM and meeting a literal God, it became easier to digest. Loki came to him with a request.

“Please watch after my son. He is still recovering and needs someone to look after him when I cannot. You’re one of the few on this realm that I trust. Can I count on you?”

“Of course.”

The God promised he would only be gone for a few days, gathering supplies with Fenrir’s elder brother during one of their trips. Sebastian thought little of it. While many stories and people painted Loki’s children to be monsters, Seb knew what a real monster looked like and Fenrir definitely did not fit the bill.

But Loki and Jörmungandr never came home. Several days passed without word. Sebastian didn’t worry. What could harm a God and his offspring? A foolish question, he supposed, since he met Loki inside of STEM and the whole reason Fenrir needed so much time to recover was because he’d been so badly injured during his time in Odin’s captivity. Still, the detective tried to stay positive while he looked after the disguised wolf. Fenrir hardly woke for anything more than food anyway.

A week passed, though, followed by another, and while Fenrir grew stronger, no word came from the wolf’s mother. Sebastian tried to reach Loki, tried to reach Jörmungandr, but failed every time.

“We ought to go searching for them,” Fenrir suggested halfway through the third week. “This is unlike my mother.”

“Loki didn’t even tell us where they were going. Where do we begin?” Sebastian asked as he dished out some homemade stew. The detective wasn’t the best cook in the world, but Fenrir didn’t seem to mind. As long as it was high in protein, he’d eat just about anything.

“I could track them,” the wolf suggested.

“By scent?”

“No.” Fenrir fixed Sebastian with a rather annoyed expression. “With magic, idiot.”

“Oh... right. I just thought, because, ya know, the wolf thing, you might...” He sighed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you, I’m just... still getting used to the idea that magic and gods are real.”

Fenrir nodded, excusing Sebastian’s stumbling as a human lost in a world that made no logical sense to them. They had more important things to worry about, anyway, like tracking Fenrir’s missing family members. The wolf, despite still trying to recuperate, set to work on tracking his mother and brother, only to find that they... weren’t turning up. He contacted Hel, hoping that she may have some answers or, at the very least, could confirm if they were dead, but his sister only reported back much of the same.

Hel, however, had always been wildly gifted in the ways of magic, even in ways that her brothers were not, and she was at least able to track Loki’s last known location.

“Wait for me. I will come with you to locate them,” she instructed.

“We don’t have time,” Fenrir insisted. “Sebastian and I will go now.”

And they did...

SURVIVOR PERKS AND ABILITIES

Rare Sebastian Castellanos Perk – Light the Way Survivor starts the trial with an old lantern with enough oil to burn for 2 minutes. Burning the lantern makes generator repair easier, increasing the speed by 50%. Searching chests, sabotaging hooks, and healing are also increased by 50% when the lantern is lit. It also makes finding other relevant points of interest easier to spot, making the survivor’s line of sight further and clearer. Oil can be found around the map to replenish the lantern’s supply but be careful! The lantern may make tasks easier, but the survivor will be much easier to spot.

Rare Sebastian Castellanos Perk – Catching Fire Survivor starts the trial with an old lantern and a box of matches. When the lantern is lit, the survivor can smash the lantern against the killing, momentarily stunning them and setting them on fire. The survivor can also toss a match at a flammable object to start a fire that will spread and create a temporary barrier that the killer cannot cross. Lantern light makes the survivor easier to locate. Other survivors can be harmed by the flames as well, instantly putting them into the dying state if hit.

Rare Sebastian Castellanos Perk – Trick Shot Survivor starts the trial with a revolver with an empty clip. Upon killer attack, the survivor can hit the killer with the handle of the gun, momentarily stunning the killer. There is, however, a single bullet in one of the chests around the map. If the survivor finds it, they have one shot to hit the killer. A body shot will stun the killer for 90 seconds. A headshot will stun the killer for 3 full minutes and grant 50% generator repair speeds. As soon as the gun is fired, regardless of if the bullet lands or misses, the survivor becomes visible to the killer for 30 seconds upon killer’s first step.

KILLER PERKS AND ABILITIES

Rare The Dweller Perk – God Eater Power from the Entity flows freely through your veins, granting you the ability to mori the first survivor you come across without having to put them into the dying state or hook them. One remaining survivor will be granted 100% chance of escaping their hook once and luck for all survivors increases moderately.

Rare The Dweller Perk – Howls of Rage You let off a serious of loud snarls, growls, and howls. Nearby survivors are so frightened by your presence, they scream in terror, revealing their location for five seconds. The more you frighten the survivors, the easier they are to track. Their anxiety causes louder breathing and panting, off-balanced skill checks with smaller zones to hit while healing or repairing generators, and more screams of terror when you are near.

Rare The Dweller Perk – Pack Hunting Your ability to track survivors by scent of blood and fear grants potential in your aura reading abilities. Any time a survivor within 24 meters of you enters a closet, it is revealed to you straight away. Any time a survivor sits in a closet anywhere on the map for more than ten seconds, they become visible to you.

CHAPTER THREE – The Gates of Helheim

Survivor: Hel Lokidottir Killer: Hel Lokidottir (aka The Damned)

In search of her missing mother and idiot brothers, Hel left the safety of her realm and went to Midgard to the last known location of Loki and Jörmungandr. When Fenrir insisted, he would go with a friend without waiting for her, and Hel never received word back, she knew that she needed to find them herself. It didn’t come as a shock or a surprise, really. Out of the lot of them, she seemed the most likely to actually preform correctly under pressure, but even Hel, the Goddess of Death and the Queen of Helheim could not escape the Entity’s hold once she stepped foot into its domain.

Splitting her into a survivor or a killer, however, proved to be tricky. Her true, half-dead appearance made her perfect for a monster that would tear apart survivors without so much as batting an eye. Her living side, however, lent itself to that of a survivor. Despite Hel’s cold and hardened exterior, she had a deeply caring and passionate heart, one that could very well put her at the forefront of a pack of survivors, one that made it nearly impossible to condemn her fully to a life of endless killing.

Nor could the Entity strip away what made her such, so what to do?

For the first time in the stretch of the Entity’s exsitence, it decided to manifest both sides of the coin in one person. A young, beautiful, and intelligent survivor that, when touched by darkness, flipped the script entirely.

At the beginning of each trial, Hel starts as either a survivor or a killer. As a survivor, Hel has incredible abilities, but must keep a close eye on her comrades. Signs of betrayal will pull her closer and closer to the darkness, as judgement must be passed on fellow survivors. If Hel is the victim of a betrayal or she witnesses first hand a betrayal, power surges through her, turning her into the half-dead judger of the damned. Her first kill is automatically a merciless blow on the current killer, wiping them out of the trial. Then the survivor who ignited her change becomes her obsession, always visible to her until they, too, are dead. Other survivors are penalized for helping the betrayer.

As the Damned, the killer ruthlessly passes judgment on the survivors, but the survivors have an added ability to perform cleansing rituals. These rituals force the Entity back, pulling the Damned away from it’s hold. There are four ritual sites. Each site must be cleansed by a different survivor. If the survivors manage to cleanse all of the sites, the Damned will revert back to Hel, a survivor. Without an active killer, the trial ends, and all those still alive will escape.

SURVIVOR PERKS AND ABILITIES

Rare Hel Lokidottir Perk – Gifts for the Giving Any time a survivor performs a coop action, the time it takes to complete that action is cut by 50%. At the same time, the killer is distracted by a false audio cue on the far side of the map, putting as much distance between the killer and the survivors as possible.

Rare Hel Lokidottir Perk – Ghosts of the Damned The survivor is infused with the spirit of the half-dead queen, giving them a second face hidden from view. Other survivors are unaffected by revealing what lies beneath but revealing the true face of the queen will spook a killer. Directly seeing the reveal will stun the killer, forcing them to drop their victims in the process. Being nearby but not in direct contact will fill the killer with a sense of terror at the Entity’s displeasure. The killer’s sight will be impaired severely for 60 seconds, making locating and hitting survivors extremely difficult. Restricted use of 3 times per trial.

Rare Hel Lokidottir Perk – Bridge Between Realms As a survivor, the killer’s instincts run strong through your veins. This unlocks potential in the survivor’s aura reading abilities, allowing them to see the killer’s position every 20 seconds regardless of what the killer is doing.

KILLER PERKS AND ABILITIES

Rare The Damned Perk – Judgement Passed When a survivor leads you to another survivor, you gain a buff to hone in on the betrayer and teleport right behind them. You can grab them without downing them into dying state, but you are not allowed to harm the other found survivors until your catch has been dealt with by hooking them or killing them by your hand.

Rare The Damned Perk – Survivor’s Savior If you catch a survivor assisting another survivor, you have the choice of rewarding that survivor rather than harming them. You will pull the survivor to your side, recruiting them to help you throughout the duration of the trial. They will be forced to assist you in sabotaging generators, protecting totems and ritual sites, and locating survivors. You are not allowed to kill this survivor. They will automatically be guaranteed a survived status at the end of the trial.

Rare The Damned Perk – Rites of Passage There are four ritual sites where survivors can perform the cleansing ritual that will drain you of your power. You must protect them at all costs while hunting your charges. To do this, you can set traps at the entrance of each ritual site. If a survivor steps through this trap, they will instantly be transported to a rune etched into the basement where they will be trapped for 20 seconds. You can choose to retrieve and hook them, but that will leave your ritual site vulnerable to the next survivor.

[esselley]

Happy birthday @allykat023​! I’m so glad I snuck into your DMs all those months ago <333 LOVE YOU LOTS!

[Now on AO3!]

[*clears throat* the context for this fic is that Oikawa is a psychic single dad trying to raise two annoying ghost kids, and the ghosts are winning]

It is beginning to become clear to Tooru that there is, in fact, some absolute bullshit going on, and he is definitely not amused by any of it.

This is the fifth time in a little over a month he’s had to have a plumber come to look at his apartment—he’s even had to reschedule tarot readings—and yet, as far as anyone can tell, plumber included… nothing seems to be the problem.

Which means that the only problem, then, is the bright and unabiding torch Tooru seems to be unable to set down, in regards to the plumber himself.

“So…” the man says, wiping his hands dry on a towel in his belt loop. Tooru has to tear his eyes away from the prominent flex of his biceps as he does so, the swell of his pecs beneath his uniform polo shirt. The name tag on it reads Iwaizumi. “Can you walk me through what happened again?”

Tooru almost offers to walk him wherever he wants to go, up to and including the bedroom. He clenches his jaw shut so the words don’t escape. Now is not the time to be thirsty—he doesn’t even have running water.

“I was in the shower,” he says, and feels his cheeks go distinctly pink just from the suggestion of nakedness, and forces himself to look at the man. Mistake. He finds his gaze being met by a pair of serious, attentive green eyes; Tooru feels like he’s baring his soul, not recapping the issues with his faulty water line. He clears his throat, hoping Iwaizumi has not noticed the unnecessarily long pause while he gathers himself. “I was… showering, when the water started to feel—strange? I don’t know how to describe it. And when I looked, it was… purple.”

“Purple,” Iwaizumi repeats, deadpan.

“Yes.”

“Well,” Iwaizumi says, turning the shower knob to the side. Out the water comes, clear as usual. “It’s not now.”

“I can see that,” Tooru sniffs. It’s one thing to have a crush; it’s another thing to have a crush on someone who clearly thinks he’s an idiot.

“Just like,” the distressingly attractive handyman continues, and oh, no, Tooru can see what’s coming next, “last week, when not only did the water not run cold when you tried to turn it hot, but the toilet also flushed the correct way. Which is to say—”

“Down, yes, I know,” Tooru cuts him off, feeling increasingly mortified. Last week had really been a nightmare—frigid water every time he tried to shower, and toilet geysers every which way he looked. “Look, I’m just as confused as you are! One of your colleagues who came the… second time, was it? He said it could be something to do with the pipes. Mold, or something!” He shudders at the thought. “Maybe he could give a second opinion?”

Iwaizumi scoffs. “He’s not coming back. Why do you think I���ve been here four times already?”

“I don’t… know?” Tooru says. “I figured—scheduling?”

“Yeah, he’s been scheduling himself other jobs so he doesn’t have to come here,” Iwaizumi says. “He’s superstitious. All your weird, mystical stuff, it freaked him out.”

“What—” Tooru can’t believe this. “But it’s not dangerous!”

“You try telling him that,” Iwaizumi says, shaking his head. “He kept telling me he felt a presence.”

“But I would have felt it, too,” Tooru insists. He knows people tend to take one of two routes with this: skittish, like the other plumber. Or skeptical, like Iwaizumi. But he seriously needs his house fixed, or he’s going to lose it. “There’s no other presences here, besides me and—”

He trails off. Wait just a fucking second.

“That’s what I tried to tell him, but he wouldn’t bite. So, good luck getting him back here…” Iwaizumi shrugs. “Looks like you’re stuck with me.”

Tooru waves a hand vaguely. “Oh, I don’t mind that.” He peers around the room, turning in a slow circle.

“You… don’t?” Iwaizumi asks, eyebrows raising in surprise. When Tooru doesn’t answer, he glances around the room suspiciously, too. “What are you doing?”

“Shhh...” Tooru says, holding up a hand. “I’m divining for spirits.”

“Are you serious,” Iwaizumi says flatly. “Listen, I’m gonna pack up and head out—I won’t bill you for today, I barely—”

“Shhhhh!” Tooru hisses, silencing him. The air in the room feels very still, to him—still and pitched high, like a tuning fork being struck although in reality, all is quiet.

He spots movement at the edges of his vision and whips his head sharply to the side, where he sees them—two wide, floating pairs of eyes in the bathroom mirror, not a reflection, but an impression. One pair deep and dark, the other sparking and bright. Two little souls, bound to him by choice.

He flings out a hand and points dramatically at the mirror. “It’s been YOUUUU!” he howls, startling Iwaizumi, and both pairs of eyes dance about in silent panic before blipping out of existence. Only they’re still there, he knows, just hiding.

“What the fuck—” Iwaizumi says, but very unfortunately, Tooru doesn’t have time to devote to him anymore—he needs to figure out how to murder someone who is already dead. An exorcism is too good for these little shits.

“Sorry, Iwa-chan, but I'll have to say bye for today—” Tooru tells him as he rolls his sleeves up menacingly.

“Iwa-chan?”

“The spirits have turned against me!” Tooru yells, shoving him towards the door. “This is no place for a normal person, quickly, escape!”

“Wait a second—”

“I'll be fine!” Tooru insists, before he bodily shoved Iwaizumi out into the hallway. It's not easy—Iwaizumi is solid. “Forget what you saw here today,” Tooru hisses ominously at him through the crack in the door, before slamming it shut in his stunned face.

Now. To deal with his little ghoulish problem.

He yanks the plush tablecloth and all his seance equipment off his dining room table and locates a piece of ordinary chalk. After several moments of frantic scribbling, it is covered in the symbols and sigils of a powerful summoning circle. He places candles around the edges, and begins to chant a binding ritual ominously. The candle flames flicker, and his hair blows in the gathering breeze inside his living room.

A noise begins to build as well, a terrible, scraping, screaming noise, filled with agony and tumult. It gets louder as he chants, and as it grows, so too do two indistinct shapes in the center of the summoning circle. They writhe and tremble, shapes at once frightening and pitiable, carving to his whim at the same time that they fight it with all their might. The flames suddenly surge upwards, bursting to life, and Tooru slams his hands down on the tabletop.

“Would you give it a rest with that?” he says crossly, and the unearthly screeching stops at once. “The neighbors are going to complain again!”

“Why couldn't you just call us normally?” Kageyama asks him. His ghostly form bubbles sulkily, like seething, purplish-blue lava.

“Because,” Tooru says, pointing an accusatory finger at him, “you two never come out when you know you're in trouble, you just make me follow your traces all over the apartment—”

“Are we in trouble?” Hinata asks. He is light made solid, a fizzing sine wave of glinting gold.

“Obviously!” Tooru says, and both ghosts wobble flinchingly. “What on earth are you two trying to do? Do you know how much money I've spent on repair company appraisals that all lead nowhere?”

Honestly, even he isn’t sure what they’re up to. It's not like them—they aren't poltergeists, they're not malicious. For all that Tooru pretends it's a chore having them around, he's constantly surprised by how little he actually does mind. Since the two of them unceremoniously crashed his life as an (extremely) eligible bachelor and practicing psychic, they've been content to just keep each other company and learn how to be better ghosts. Unfortunately, this seems to have included manifesting the ability to haunt his plumbing.

He shakes his head. “This isn't like you two. I'm… frankly, I'm disappointed.”

The candles flicker morosely and the chandelier directly overhead sways in remorse.

“We… we just wanted to help,” Hinata says eventually.

“Help with what?” Tooru asks, blankly.

“You just seemed lonely!”

“He’s gonna get mad…” Kageyama warns.

“I seemed lonely?” Tooru repeats, sputtering. That's preposterous, to say the least. “I'm certainly not. I could never be lonely with you two—” he catches himself just in time, “—with you two constantly pestering me!”

“It's not the same!” Hinata says.

“Trust me, Shouyou-chan—”

“We noticed the way you stare at the repairman,” Kageyama interjects.

Tooru's mouth falls open. He cannot believe he is being set up with his plumber by two dead idiots who still haven't realized they are in love with each other.

“Have you, Tobio-chan?” he replies, with a silken smile. “Recognize the feeling, do you?”

Kageyama must realize the danger he's in, because he stops trying to argue. Tooru drops his smile.

“You two,” he says, “are going to stay in the circle for awhile and think about your actions. Also, there is to be no possessing of any household objects for one whole week, effective immediately.”

Kageyama and Hinata both whine something awful at this, and Tooru crosses his arms and basks in their misery for a few glorious moments. They love racing each other to possess things right before Tooru uses them, but they’ve never try to make anything malfunction before, so he allows it. Hinata's favorite is the teapot, because it tickles when it starts to boil. Kageyama likes the aging washing machine. He's never said why, but Tooru suspects it's because the old thing sounds nearly as grumpy as Kageyama himself does when it really gets going on its spin cycle.

“Keep it up,” he sings, as the candles start to turn an odd shade of green, “and it's gonna be two weeks.”

The whining stops, but Kageyama does throw a “You know we're right,” at him as he leaves them there in the summoning circle. Tooru does not deign to respond.

“How long before we can come out?” Hinata calls after him.

“Until I say you can,” Tooru replies. He ignores their ghostly wailing for the rest of the afternoon, until they have settled down and started to play I, Spy with each other. He refuses to admit that he finds it adorable when they get along, even if it's mostly because they're plotting against him together.

Unfortunately, the plotting does not end there. A few days pass without incident, and Tooru is lulled into a false sense of security. The week comes and goes; Friday arrives in a leisurely fashion. So leisurely, in fact, that Tooru decides to take a luxurious bubble bath to pamper himself. He spends a long time soaking in the tub, and is slightly surprised to see no signs of his two ghosts anywhere—normally, they would get into a game of Bubble Wars while Tooru relaxed, watching the massive orange and blue soap bubbles floating around the bathroom, trying to ram each other to see who would pop first. Today, all is quiet, and so Tooru enjoys a glass of wine in peace.

He finishes his bath and lets the tub drain, wrapping towels around his waist and his wet hair. He will need to blow dry it and make sure it looks appropriately dashing before his evening client appointment, and he’s about to dig the hairdryer out from under the sink when there’s an odd rumbling sound from behind him. He turns, frowning, to look at the toilet.

Naturally, this is the point at which the toilet attempts to murder him.

“WHY?!” he shrieks, devoid of anything else to say in his panic, as twisting tendrils of water burst from the bowl, latching around his arms and legs, dragging him towards it. Try as he might, he can’t break free, and as he is wrenched closer and closer, the entire opening of the toilet seems to yawn, wide—he can see blackness and light swirling in its depths, and he realizes, shit, spirit portal— “Tobio-chan?! Shouyou?!”

The entire bathroom is flooding with water. There’s a horrible, slurping, shloomp-ing sound as Tooru hits the rim of the bowl and starts to get sucked inside of it. He can feel the vacuum of empty space seizing onto him, an unstoppable force.

“You little shits, I’m going to make you corporeal long enough to punch you both in the face—”  

He hears a loud banging from far away, and wonders, what now, but then comes the sound of something splintering, and a moment later a voice bellows, “OIKAWA?”

Tooru gasps. “I-Iwa-chan?!”

He hears someone running, and then Iwaizumi—how is he here, Tooru wonders—bursts onto the scene, framed in the doorway, bearing a stunning resemblance to an angry bull. He takes in the sight before him quickly—the toilet, the spirit portal, Tooru’s hair in a towel cone—and leaps into action. He wades through the flood, reaching out, and Tooru stretches out his hands—Iwaizumi grabs his arms and heaves, and Tooru begins, ever so slowly, to pull free of the portal.

“GRAB ON, STUPID!” Iwaizumi shouts at him, and Tooru throws caution to the winds and flings his arms around his neck, and Iwaizumi seizes him around the waist and yells bloody murder as he leans all the way backwards—and then they’re falling free, onto the bathroom floor, Tooru crushed to Iwaizumi’s extremely firm and noticeably broad chest. There’s a howling, rushing noise, and all the water on the floor recedes whiplash fast, suctioned back into the toilet, which then closes its lid with a sassy and decisive snap.

For a moment, neither Tooru, nor Iwaizumi moves. They just lay there, panting and exhausted. Iwaizumi lets out a slow breath.

“Holy shit,” he says, “your apartment is haunted.”

Tooru sighs. “It’s not haunted. It’s being visited by spirits.”

“That literally is what haunted means,” Iwaizumi points out.

“We’re not visiting, we live here!” Tobio’s ghostly voice shouts in Tooru’s ear.

“I’m evicting you!” Tooru shouts back, incensed.

“Are you talking to the—” Iwaizumi says, before sitting up abruptly, causing Tooru to roll off of him. He hastily readjusts the towel around his waist—he’s lucky it stayed on at all. Iwaizumi swats at the air. “Hey! You fucking ghosts! What the hell is your problem?!”

“They’re trying to get me to—” Tooru pinches his lips shut, irritably. He settles on redirecting the conversation. “Why… how did you know I was in trouble?”

“I didn’t,” Iwaizumi says. “I mean, not until I heard you screaming.”

“Screaming seems like an exaggeration—”

“I thought it was the fire alarm at first,” Iwaizumi says. He is ruthless. Tooru likes it.

“Okay,” he concedes, “but that doesn’t explain why you were here.”

“Ah,” Iwaizumi says, “well… the days have been alternating.” When Tooru continues to look confused, he elaborates. “The first time you called us was on a Monday. Then Thursday of that same week. Then the next week, Friday. Then last week, back to Monday, then Thursday. Now it’s Friday, so I just thought…”

“Of course.” Tooru snaps his fingers in realization. “Spirits can’t tell the flow of time like you or I, so often, they’ll develop certain predictable paths of behavior… you must be sensitive to their ways in order to have seen that!”

Iwaizumi stares at him. “Or… I’m just better at pattern recognition than you are?”

Tooru waves a hand. “Whatever. Second question: did you break my door down?”

Iwaizumi’s expression turns slightly shifty. “Kicked it off its hinges, actually… I can fix it.”

Tooru only wishes he'd been there to witness it. Iwaizumi stands, and Tooru allows himself to be helped to his feet, Iwaizumi’s strong, sturdy arms steadying him after he pulls Tooru off the floor. He notices, then, two fuzzy gazes peering out of the mirror at him, and scowls at them. He can’t decide how angry he is yet. On the one hand, having Iwaizumi come daringly to his rescue is hardly the worst thing that could be happening to him on a Friday afternoon. On the other hand, he’d been stuck inside of a toilet when it had happened; not quite the stuff of romance novels.

Iwaizumi notices him staring, and turns to look curiously at the mirror. “You don’t act like they’re evil.”

“They’re not,” Tooru says, rolling his eyes. “They’re just meddlesome and stupid.”

“Hey!” Hinata yelps.

“Well, you are.”

Iwaizumi’s lips twitch. “So… mind telling me what they were meddling for?”

“Um…” Tooru does mind—but unfortuately, it doesn’t seem as though this is going to stop unless he does something drastic. Like telling Iwaizumi the truth. And so, because he doesn’t want some innocent civilian constantly being pulled into the affairs of ghosts, he says glumly, “They want me to ask you out.”

There. Now, Iwaizumi will reject him, and Kageyama and Hinata will finally get out of his business.

“Well, why don’t you?” Iwaizumi asks.

“Why don’t I what?”

“Why don’t you ask me out?”

Tooru opens his mouth to explain why he’s not going to ask Iwaizumi out, when his synapses finish firing properly. He blinks. “...I thought you’d say no.”

“Okay…” Iwaizumi says, and though his expression is completely serious, Tooru swears his dark eyes are gleaming a bit in amusement. “Why would I say no?”

“Because I’m weird,” Tooru tells him. Is he being made fun of?

Iwaizumi shrugs. “Everyone’s a little weird,” he says. “You talk to ghosts. I get crushes on idiots who can talk to ghosts. While I’m trying to fix their haunted toilet.”

“You—have a—” Tooru splutters. “On—on me?”

“Yeah, so, I may not have been totally honest before?” Iwaizumi confesses. “You did freak my colleague out, but I offered to take the house calls from you… I was pretty curious.”

Tooru gapes at him for a few more seconds, before composing himself. He attempts to sweep his hair back, but just ends up knocking the towel off his head. He acts like this was intentional.

“Well, then,” he says, “I’m glad that’s been resolved.” He turns to address the room at large. “You hear that, you monsters? I told you I’d take care of it, so you can stop being the worst, now.” Oh, my god, Iwaizumi is into him.

“You didn’t take care of jack shit,” Kageyama says.

“Language, Tobio-chan!”

“You swear all the time!”

“What… are their names again?” Iwaizumi asks.

“The stupid one is Shouyou,” Tooru says, ignoring Hinata’s continued protesting. “And the stupider one is Tobio.” Tobio joins in.

Iwaizumi tries unsuccessfully to bite back a grin. “Okay. Well… Shouyou, Tobio, I’m Hajime. It’s, uh—nice to meet you?”

The discarded towel suddenly lifts at the corners, like it’s waving at Iwaizumi. He takes a reflexive step backwards, before laughing, somewhat in shock. He waves back.

It makes Tooru feel terribly fond, which he hates; not just because he's only spoken to Iwaizumi five times so far in his life, but also because Hinata and Kageyama deserve an exorcism, not an introduction. But Tooru thinks he will let it slide, this once.

“Would you like a cup of coffee?” he asks Iwaizumi.

“I would…” Iwaizumi says, “but I should probably head home to shower…”

“Stay,” Tooru says lightly, even though his heart is pounding, just a little. “And use mine?”

Iwaizumi grins. “Might as well. I’m pretty familiar with it already.”

This is actually a continuation of a previous ghost!KageHina fic I wrote, which can be read here! And has a sequel here~

[For easy-to-find updates on fic, I have a writing-only blog: @esselle-hq!]

[bastardrobocop]

on fallout 76

so, because im a fool i pre ordered fallout 76. frankly, i was going to buy it on release anyway because im starved for anything fallout and new california was a complete bust. 

anyway, this means i have had access to the “B.E.T.A.”, which isn’t really a beta. it’s just server stress tests. i’ve done every pc round so far and i feel like i can say pretty conclusively that it’s just not very good.

sorry, this is going to be a long meandering post

i dont know if its something they can fix in the like, week before they launch the game, but the delay/latency/feel is so fucking whack it’s unbelievable. the multiplayer fallout new vegas mod feels like it has better netcode. in addition, it is dreadfully optimized. i play on a laptop, so maybe take my perspective with a grain of salt, but i’m not the only one who has pointed this out. i use an nvidia 970m, which runs fallout 4 at around 50/60 frames per second. fallout 76 tops out at around 10-30 on average. just wandering the world, the framerate is atrocious. performance is best in small interior cells and in wide open spaces with nothing in it. in more dense and enemy populated areas, the game stutters hard. more than once ive had the game freeze for several seconds during a firefight. its honestly inexcusably bad most of the time. with poor latency and framerate chugging, the gameplay experience is trying. it makes literally everything painful, including just inventory management and crafting. 

the gameplay itself isnt too awful in that its just fallout 4 again but without the pretense of minimal rpg elements. performance problems can make some engagements suck, but most common enemies aren’t too hard. however, the real nasty ones that are higher level than you can be nigh on impossible to take down solo, which sucks because my friends arent always available and dealing with online randos is always bad. but it’s also the only way to get like, good weapons. but anyway, the core gameplay loop is almost the same. i say almost because the ‘workshop’ storage is your only storage. and it has a 400lb limit. which takes into account anything you put in it. this should seem like an obvious issue; you basically cant afford to store things if you gather valuable resources. im currently stuck carrying this big fucking rocket launcher which is useless right now because i dont have any inventory space for missiles, which weigh a ton. also, ammo has weight now. and you can’t scrap ammo for ammo parts like gunpowder or lead. and you can’t sell ammo either. so instead you just have to like, dump hundreds of rounds just on the ground since you can’t store them in the workshop because you need space for steel and adhesive and that M2 Browning that you can’t use yet but want to hold onto because it looks bitchin. however, you can bulk scrap with plastic, which reduces weight by about half. however, therein lies another problem; plastic becomes a precious resource because you can’t make a bulk pile of wood without it for some reason. plastic is currently more precious than literal gold. still, you get stuck holding a bunch of valuable scrap in your inventory which you can’t put into your stash because it’s full and you can’t go out and find more plastic because then you’ll be over-encumbered and you cant afford to drop this circuit board and you can’t build any more things in your camp because the budget is painfully low and even when you DO get enough plastic to bulk things the bulked stuff goes into your inventory and wont necessarily fit back into the stash and i’m still carrying this fucking missile launcher please god let me put down this missile launcher please oh please god

the ui is a disaster. it’s like they turned 4′s console/gamepad control scheme and doubled down on it; on pc, random keys are bound to multiple things and then also bound to a separate key, and you can’t re-bind things individually. so that means middle mouse is both ‘open favorite item wheel’ and ‘enter third person’ and ‘enter build mode’ when there’s also V which is also ‘enter third person’. you cannot change this. there will always be one button for this. there is still no separate binding for bash and grenade throw, of course. if you press escape, it opens the map. if you press m, it opens the map. to open the pause menu with things like ‘options’ and ‘microtransaction store’ and ‘quit the game’, you have to open the map with either escape or M and then press Z. there is no direct button to take you to the pause menu, as far as i can tell. when you go up to a workbench, there are three options; E to craft, R to scrap, Space to repair and modify. from this menu, if you want to scrap an item, you must mouse over it, and then select it. however, DO NOT MOVE THE MOUSE UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES. even if the prompt is open and asking if you want to scrap, say, a pump action shotgun, if you mouse over and the highlight moves over to your only power armor chest piece, it will scrap the power armor chest piece. even though it was asking if you wanted to scrap the shotgun. its potentially one of the most hostile interfaces ive ever seen. the bindings for ‘scrap mode’ and ‘scrap item’ in different menus also change. if i’m in the repair menu, G scraps an item. if i’m in scrap mode, spacebar does. the only good thing ive seen so far is the favorite wheel and also you can set it so you can see through your pip boy background while browsing it. 

the world feels desolate and boring. the lack of human npc interaction has been replaced with finding some dead persons holotape. there are robots. there is at least one AI. but all the questgivers are pieces of paper, holotapes, or voices on a radio. sometimes it’s a robot. you don’t actually interact though. there’s no interaction beyond listening and being told what to do. while im bitching about how the world feels, lets talk about factions. bethesda has kind of casually hyped up factions as being some kind of meaningful, cool choice. they’re literally nothing. there is no indication to other players what faction you are in. you can join every faction and reach top rank in every faction. you cant see if anyone is a member of your faction unless theyre in your faction specific base. there is no inter-faction conflict, there are very few faction quests aside from random events, and once you’re done with the main faction quest, you’re basically done for good except for repeatable ones. i honestly expected factions to be a meaningful choice, which was probably my mistake. i was hoping it would force you to commit to your current faction once you joined it, or would prompt you to abandon another faction in order to join a new one. but there’s just nothing. i was expecting something like, i dunno, destinys faction thing. like joining new monarchy. and maybe butting heads with members of other factions, like i figured the Brotherhood faction would be my enemy if i joined the enclave. but it’s just nothing. the world is nothing, the quests are nothing, everything just feels pointless. 

this is also a personal gripe, but there are like no energy weapon alternatives to small guns aside from the errant laser pistol, but ammo is extremely rare. the only new energy weapon i’ve seen so far is the plasma gatling, which is a big gun. otherwise, it’s just the crappy pistol/rifle converting laser and plasma rifle. no plasma pistol, just a pistol conversion. no laser pistol, just a pistol conversion. i’ve always loved energy weapons and just like. not getting any variety while guns and melee weapons get tons of variety is grating. there are many new ballistic weapons that look neat. the 10mm smg is back, and i am admittedly fond of it. however, 10mm ammo is painfully rare. i spend basically all my lead making more ammo for it. i can kind of get by with my laser pistol and my shotgun always makes up however much ammo i lose because a lot of enemies use shotguns, but my 10mm just goes up in smoke and there’s none to be found elsewhere. there’s a shocking amount of .308 because almost every early/mid enemy uses a hunting rifle, but i guess it makes sense because the big MG-32 thing takes .308 so they want you to be able to use it when the time comes. still, i’d rather be using an energy weapon. i want like. a recharger pistol. or the plasma rifle with all the tubes. or a pulse gun. just like. anything other than the ugly aer9 pistol conversion. i think the folks down at bethesda just dont like energy weapons very much; theyre leaps and bounds less viable than small guns. 

the enemies look okay. instead of raiders, you have the Scorched. they’re Marked Men, but weaker and also a cult formed by radioactive bats. there are super mutants, because bethesda cant be bothered to go outside of the comfort zone of Things People Recognize and also they hate lore i guess. the wild animals are kind of fun. theres a big toad that looks cute, and frogs that have MASSIVE arms that they run on, which looks funny. theyre small though. things like the mothman and snallygaster look neat. the flatwoods monster is okay. the grafton bastard is big and kind of easy to cheese out. there is a monster named after a flawed and racist interpretation of indigenous beliefs. theres a big sloth, who i love. the mole men (called mole miners) are intimidating and ANNOYINGLY precise with shotguns. they’re later game enemies and very aggressive. they drop a neat looking unarmed weapon that ive been using, called a mole miner gauntlet. it’s like a power fist with big claws. there’s a big bee called a honeybeast. ive basically covered all of the new monsters, though. everything else is from fallout 4 and dlcs. this includes things like anglers, which had obviously evolved on far harbor along with the lure plant so it doesnt make sense for them to be there, and gulpers which are big salamanders so i guess that’s more okay. there are swarms of bees that are just he same repeated png of a bee, spinning around. oh yeah, there are a couple new insect types; ticks and fireflies. both use the animations of the radroach and bloatfly, respectively.

solo play can be kind of boring and difficult. most randos you meet will either ignore you or call you a slur and run away. ive only had one guy break into my house and i murdered him. however, even though he had a bounty on his head, he was still allowed to get ‘revenge’ on me which meant he could spawn right next to me and this time he had a power armor suit, so he killed me a couple times before logging out to avoid my wrath. coward. if you’re out there dude, i’ll kick your ass. also, quick note about the bounty system; its kinda rough around the edges. i tried to save someones garden by shooting a ghoul that was stomping their flowers in the back. however, my shot somehow curved around him at point blank and broke a blackberry bush. from then on, i had a 20 cap bounty on my head. i had to hide from people in my secret enclave bunker and get my friend to kill me so i could perceive other people on the map again and also not live in fear of every tom dick and larry with a power armor frame and a bad attitude. 

i feel like i should wrap up. fallout 76 is not very good, but if they can work out performance and latency it wouldnt be too bad for just dicking around with friends. in terms of being like, a fallout game, it’s worse than 4. i haven’t gotten into story spoilers, but its not great. and it feels remarkably desolate for a game thats advertised as being a cool time with your buds. maybe itll be better when there are more people playing. i dunno. its just not very good. i dont recommend it.

[ohgoddard]

Fist of Fire: Omega.1.6

*Therapy Log number four regarding Kiara Keita, nominally known as ‘Omegaman’. Recording thoughts*

“Miss Keita has an unusual amount of willpower in resistance to my pull. It should be expected, knowing her lineage, but is surprising nonetheless. Her power has developed remarkably since the period when her father, Akande Keita, died. It is unknown to me at the moment how she has gained his power, even more so become more adept in using it. Further probing will prove fruitful. The initial objective has been uncovered and solved, as per my agreement with the agency. However, I think I shall stay on with them for just a bit longer. This woman fascinates me. I must know more. I don’t care for the rest of the crimes she committed. There is enough to put her behind bars for years. That is if any bar can hold her. No, I need to know why she’s still here. It was the one thing she fought me on, meaning that there is something she’s waiting for. But what? Time will tell.”

His words rang clearly in my ears. He knew this. He spoke with the voice of a man who didn’t care who heard him, wanting to be heard. He knew about my plan to stay. To what extent, I don’t know. There is no reason to stay in this place anymore, not with him here. I need to leave, I can do it at any time. But I can’t. I can’t do it. This is my one shot at getting Whirlwind. This is the only time I will know when and where he will be. So I will put up with his games, his poking, and prodding, his intrusions that make me feel as if my body is on fire. It will be worth it if I get just one shot at Whirlwind. I’ll only need one shot.

As a result of my rage yesterday, I was politely asked to move myself to a higher security area. I complied. My anger was not at the hospital staff, and despite my constant screams that I hear voices in my head, I am completely sane enough to do it. I no longer listen to voices in my head anymore. After the first four months of being Omegaman, I found out how to simply drown them out with the sweet bliss of nothing, listening only for certain words. I comply with their demands. While I await my torturer to come to me once more, I sit in a room no bigger than most people’s closets. Seems they caught on to my faking weakness to the crystal, I don’t see a single one in this cramped space. This place is only a prison as long as I let it be. And a prison it has truly become.

The sliding of a bolt on the outside of my door echoes in my head, and when it opens I see that man once more. Save for a replacement pair of glasses, he still looks the same. The same boring, but now terrifying man. He stopped me from laying a single finger on him, a single word he spoke to make me pull my punch from connecting to his nose. The sheer wind of it all should have killed him, torn his skin off his body. But he simply moved it to the side by telling it to. I heard him say, “Stop. Move.” In the second before I hit him, it all changed. He scares me, I realize. I shouldn’t be afraid. I am Omegaman. I should be afraid for others, but here I am scared of an overweight middle-aged man.

His smile reveals slightly yellow teeth. “Miss Kiara, it is time for our next session. I do hope that this one ends with less of the hospital and surrounding city-scape intact.” “Eat shit and die.” His smile fell with a sigh. He walks away from me, leaving the door open behind him. “Well? Come on. We both know you’re not leaving.” I hate him. A lowly man as himself, commanding me. He holds my hopes and desires above me like a carrot on a stick, never intending to give me anything. He didn’t even use his power, I just listened.

As I walked down the hall, following this beige monstrosity, I had no restraints on me. The only thing I wore was an orange shirt and sweatpants and white shoes. They knew nothing could bind me. They didn’t even assign me an escort as they do to the other crazy capes. The only thing I get to follow me as I walk down the hallway are the frightened looks from the nurses and orderlies. I hate making them scared. But I have bigger things to worry about than public perception. It would be my pleasure to sit in time-out for the rest of my life, twiddling my thumbs against the years going by. But I need to kill someone first. And before that, I need to go to therapy. Joy.

“So, Miss Kiara.” The beige monster sat across me behind a desk, a much more comfortable therapy room than what I got in the past. No gurney and leather straps, just a couch. “I thought our previous accommodations were too draining. Also, it is under repair. Surely I can trust you not to drain the coffers of those around you again, hm?” I glared at him. “Excellent. Now, take a seat. Let us talk about your past, hm? Tell me what happened to your father.”

And like before, I talked. I hate him. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The wedding was being planned. At least, in my mind it was. In truth, she and I only became engaged a couple of weeks ago. It was simpler then. I had no powers, no obligations, no burning rage or knowledge of the corruption that encapsulated the hero agency. I was just a normal person, thinking about my wedding. It was a normal day I woke up to, with... her by my side. I remember feeling happy that morning. It was a warm sunny day, and I was going to meet my father for breakfast, to tell him the big news myself. Truth be told, I was nervous. I didn’t know how he would react to me showing up after all these years of very little conversation that I was getting married. And in the same revelation, tell him I was gay at the same time. I don’t know why I was worried. I knew he would accept me for who I was, he always fought for my people publicly when he could. But it didn’t help how I felt. One can support others all they want, but often have different opinions on what is “theirs”. So it was with no amount of mild terror in the back of my mind as I got dressed and left our apartment.

I left a message for...her when I left. On their phone. Just telling her where I was going. Nothing big.

I got to the cafe thirty minutes early. Which, by my dad’s standards, was ten minutes late. I remember showing up and seeing him sitting outside at one of the tables, reading the newspaper, and sipping a cup of the strongest coffee this side of the Rio Grande. He looked like he always did to me. I never saw much of “Omegaman”. I saw my dad. He liked his flannel and dark wash jeans. He liked his silver watch my grandfather gave him years ago. He didn’t wear a huge spartan helmet or whatever. The only thing on his head was a smile when he saw me walk over.

“Only thirty minutes early now? What happened to my daughter?” I rolled my eyes and gave him a big hug before I sat down across from him. “So,” he continued, “why’d you call me out of the blue? Money? Trouble? Just miss your old man?” I chuckled. “Dad, I don’t just call you when I’m in trouble or need something.” “You don’t call me for anything else it feels!” His laugh rivaled a seven-course dinner, it was so hearty. It made me feel safe, especially in what I was about to tell him about. “Dad, I called you because I have good news.” This caught his attention and a raised eyebrow from him. I showed him my hands. “Look at them.” His questioning eyes turned them, studying them. “Did you paint your nails really well? I mean, it'd be good news alright. You’re terrible at doing that.” I scoffed. “For one of the most observant men in the world, you are remarkably dense.” He feigned shock. “Young lady, I am your father!” This elicited another eyeroll. “Look a bit closer.” His eyes turned to my hands again, widening with surprise when he finally spied the simple gold band with the blue sapphire gem encrusted in it. “Oh.My.GOD! When did it happen? Does anyone else know? Whens the wedding? Who’s the lucky gal?” “Well only a couple of weeks ago and --what?” I stared at him, feeling like I was a bit smacked. “Well? Who’s the lovely lady?” “I-i-I.. How did you know?!” It was time for my dad to roll his eyes at me. “When you were 10, you and I went to a wrestling match. Both of our eyes were locked on the woman referee. I knew from that point on.” I groaned, sliding from my seat. “Dad noooooooo that's the worst way to just...ughhh.” He laughed at my embarrassment, something fathers have an innate ability to cause, my face buried.  “C’mon now Kirara, get on back in your seat and tell me. Who’s the lucky gal.”

I shuffled myself back into my seat, face still red. “Her name is ….” He smiled. “What a lovely name. You’ll have to introduce me to her soon now. Gotta make sure she can handle the mess that is you.” Despite my embarrassment, I smiled. He was putting on the tough guy facade, one that all dads put on when someone is dating their daughter. Except my dad could totally beat anyone else. I think he’d like….her.  But then again, that never got to happen. I saw it out of the corner of my eye, not paying too much attention to it. Just some guys getting out of a van, dressed in grey jumpsuits. Not an uncommon sight in Chicago. A lot of things break, and a lot of people have jobs to fix and maintain them. I was too busy listening to my dad telling me about the day he proposed to my mom, and how it was an awful terrible day because everything he planned was going wrong. My mom still said yes, which made him certain he made the right choice.

I didn’t notice when someone not wearing a grey jumpsuit got out of the van and handed over a long metal tube to one of them. Nor did I notice when he knelt and loaded something in it. My dad noticed, but it was too late when he did. A loud *thump* traveled across the street with the rocket it spawned, and it was with only one second of reaction that my father jumped across the table to protect me from its blast. The explosion shattered all glass on the block and destroyed the cafe. Bodies were everywhere on the floor, fires on the street and spreading up the building. My arms had broken glass embedded in them, my head bleeding from debris scraping across it. My dad was standing over me, in his fighting stance, scanning for intruders. The smoke from the fire was everywhere, obscuring what I could see. I could only make out a dark figure walking towards me and my father. Just slowly walking.

My dad was taking no chances. He leaped with his speed, arm prepared to punch the life out of the villain that attacked us. But he missed. The figure simply stepped to the side, quicker than him. My dad threw throw after throw, missing each time. The smoke still hiding my attacker, I could only see my dad fighting him in vain. It wouldn’t last for long, though. The figure danced around him, almost laughing. They were talking to each other but I couldn’t hear. My head was throbbing from the pain, the loudness. I couldn’t do anything. Not a damn thing as I saw the figure take out a rifle, a normal gun, and just shoot my dad in his knees. He well, screaming in pain. The third shot rang out not a second later, silencing my dad. Through his head.

My body went numb. Weather from the pain or the pure shock, I don’t know. I could do nothing as my dad fell before me. Dead.     And as the smoke cleared, I saw him. The killer.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- “And who might that be, Miss Kiara?”

It was just like before. I was sweating, in pain, resisting. He asked a direct question this time, not a vague one like before. I couldn’t tell him. Not when I was so close. His parade was in two days, I just needed to hold out for two more days with this monster. “I….won’t...tell you…” I say through grit teeth, barely holding everything in. The beige monster merely clicked his tongue, writing something down on that cursed notebook of his. “I also noticed you were trying with great difficulty to prevent me from finding the name of your fiance. Miss Kiara, I wouldn’t worry about that. She is insignificant to my work. Keeping her name from me only really hurts you.”

I didn’t believe him. I had no reason to. I didn’t want anyone to know about her. She deserves no part of this hell I’ve created for myself. She wouldn’t even want to see me anymore, but I don’t care. No one gets to know who she is. “Go to hell, you fat bald bastard.”

He sighed. “Oh well. It doesn’t matter. You may resist me now, but you reveal much when you try to hide. You are not so subtle as you think you are. If you can’t even conceal whom you are attracted to, how can you keep hidden one who you wish to kill?” My mind flooded with images of this man’s death. Numerous methods I entertained, finally ending on throwing him into space. I could do it. I’ve done it before. Would not be too hard to do it again. Through the sweat pouring down my face as I resisted his compulsion, my eyes stared him down. “You don’t know anything about me. The real me.”

He smiled his yellow teeth again. “Oh, but I will. And when I do, you will have lost and I have won. Simple as that. I am no villain, I am but the tool to be used by those who fight for justice. You are the villain, Kiara. The title of ‘Omegaman’ no longer means what it used to, now that you have taken its mantle. Omega means the end, the last one. Your father used it to show he was the last thing a villain would ever see. So far, you use it to show you are the end. Full stop. Think about what you have done.”

As he stands up to leave the room, my body still straining from under his compulsion.

“And I really mean think, Miss Kiara. A hero is more than their actions. Their image is half the job. Most heroes only need to show up to end conflict. But I get ahead of myself.”

He leaves the door open as he walks out.

“You never wanted to be a hero anyway.”

[henqiguai]

haikyuu!! fic rec

i’ve been consuming unreasonable amounts of hq!! fic these past few months... here’s a rec list of ~70 fics for 16 ships. 

(edit: if the links aren’t working, right-click to open the fic in a new tab. sorry;;)

❤ = favorite

❤ ❤ ❤ = god-tier 

*

Bokuto/Akaashi (otp: my head, his heart)

the better boyfriend battle by norio (M)  ❤

Summary:  It's two days after their first date anniversary, so Bokuto ruins Akaashi's life.

i put my hand out, unfolded, into the sunlight by carafin (G)  ❤

Summary:  In which Bokuto Kotarou is woefully inept at conveying his feelings, and Akaashi Keiji has a sort-of superpower. Sort of.

Karma by dgalerab (T)

Summary: Akaashi pulls a muscle and Bokuto offers to help him with yoga. Akaashi knows a bad idea when he sees it, and he really only agrees because he's suddenly acquired a deeply rooted desire to see Bokuto do yoga.For multiple reasons.

Maybe We’re Airborne, Baby by sterlinglee (T)

Summary: Realizing he's got it bad for his setter is the easy part. Getting his feelings across might be the hardest thing Bokuto's ever done, not counting his literature final or putting out the flames on that birthday cake he tried to bake for Akaashi last year, or—or a lot of things, actually.But the point still stands. Reaching out to Akaashi is a leap in the dark, and he wants it more than he's ever wanted anything (especially the smoking remains of a cake he baked before he really understood his feelings, but knew that it's what you attempt with your own two hands that matters).

snowflakes by arsenicjay (T)

Summary: Bokuto is a simple wizard with simple needs; a nice date, a little romance, and he's all good to go.Or, Akaashi and Bokuto spend a day in Hogsmeade just before Christmas.

stating the obvious by ThinkingCAPSLOCK (G)

Summary:  There's a lot of things Bokuto isn't sure about now that he's in university. His program, his new team, his future. There's only one thing he's absolutely sure of. He is not dating Akaashi Keiji. Not even a little bit.

Year-Round Love by masi (G)

Summary:  In his first year of university, Bokuto realizes that he really adores Akaashi.

Rest of the rec list under the cut!

*

Aone/Futakuchi (otp: teddy and polar bear)

Got You by garbagecannot (T)

Summary:  So Aone kind of wants to see Futakuchi scream. Just for kicks. And he feels kind of awful about it.

*

Bokuto/Kuroo (ohohotp: best friends best boyfriends)

Seven Years by xwynn (G)

Summary:  Bokuto has a secret that's seven years too late.

*

Ennoshita/Tanaka (otp: it’s too early for the world to end)

baby, our love is fireproof by earlgrey_milktea (T)

Summary:

[10:52 pm] [to: noya-san] im gonna tell him [10:54 pm] [from: noya-san] U GOT TIHS GO GET UR BOY [10:56 pm] [to: noya-san] IM GONNA GET MYSELF THE BOY [10:56 pm] [from: noya-san] GET TEH BOY [10:57 pm] [to: noya-san] GET THE BOY [11:04 pm] [from: noya-san] GET THE BOY

or, the story of how tanaka tried to light a flame in ennoshita's heart and ended up setting everything else on fire instead.

hold your breath, it gets better by harklights (T)

Summary: But if there was one thing Ennoshita could trust about the world, it was that people wanted. They wanted things to bend to their will, other wills to bend to their will, odds to work in their favor, luck on their side, a shortcut, a fun time, insurance and assurance both. A security lock to be made extra sturdy against possible thefts. A frail book with tattered binding that wanted augmentation before it frayed and spilled its pages everywhere, succumbed to age. A girl’s pocket mirror that reflected falling cherry blossoms every time she opened it to look at herself. Vanity, maybe, although it had been too cute when she first saw herself and gasped.“A flying carpet,” the man before the counter wishes.“A… flying carpet,” Ennoshita slowly repeats.

Practice Makes Perfect by ToBeOrNotToBeAGryiffindor (G)

Summary: Ennoshita Chikara has had a few confessions, but this one takes the cake.

"Enno-san, can I ask you something?" "Sure." "You like guys, right?" "Yeahhhh. . ." "I think I might like a guy. What do I do?"

Why is this my life?

one step, two step by Authoress (T)

Summary:  Tanaka's made enough of a mess trying to confess to Ennoshita, he doesn't need his attention-hungry kitten getting in the mix too.

*

Hinata/Kageyama (otp: as long as i’m here, you’re invincible)

baby, i can give you wings by Metis_Ink (T)  ❤

Summary: In which there are superpowers, cats, rainstorms, realizations, split-second jealousy, embarrassing volleyparents, killer whales, electric Kuroos, unstable emotions, bad romance movie mentions, some angst, some fluff, but mostly a lot of awkward high schoolers.

The minute Kageyama walks into the gym and sees Hinata hovering eight feet over the nets he knows he’s screwed.

*

Daichi/Kuroo (otp: city boy country boy)

If I Could Change Your Mind by tookumade (G)

Summary:

“I’m kind of excited to meet him,” Bokuto says, roughly an hour before Karasuno are scheduled to arrive. “He sounds interesting.”

Kuroo raises an eyebrow at him. “I just told you that there’s not a lot about him that stands out—how is that interesting?”

“You’ve told me a lot about how he apparently doesn’t stand out,” Bokuto replies easily. “You don’t usually talk about someone so much."

(Or, Sawamura Daichi shows up like a breath of fresh air, and Kuroo Tetsurou doesn't stand a chance.)

*

Daichi/Suga (otp: honey i’m home)

Add New Contact by booksong (G)

Summary: "Daichi was leaning contemplatively on the sill of his open window, waiting for the icy breeze he was letting into his room to wake him up to how utterly stupid he was being. He’d always hated stories, real or fictional, about people doing ridiculous and self-destructive things for love, but now here he was, palming his smartphone idly and wondering with complete seriousness if it would survive an eight meter drop with substantial but repairable damage."

(Or; All Daichi's electronics are endangered the moment he realizes he can't get that sweet, patient, ridiculously attractive IT tech off his mind.)

cool teens don’t wear skinny jeans by ebenroot (T)

Summary: 'He was supposed to ask Suga for his number or ask if he was busy next Friday night and if he was interested in seeing a movie or something. Instead, he said in a slightly cracking and not at all calm voice, “I think I lost my kids.”

or

that fic where babysitter no. 1 Daichi loses three kids in the city, gets into a bunch of shenanigans, and tries to ask Suga on a date.

forever is a long time but i don’t mind spending it with you by Interconnected_3 (G)

Summary: “What else?” Daichi blinks. “What else is there? Do you want me to tell you how you like your coffee?” He grins teasingly. “I don’t know, how do I like my coffee? By the way, you’re missing something.” “Cream and two and a half sugars- wait, I’m missing something?” “Yup,” Suga says. “You forgot to mention that we’re dating.” “Well, god, Suga, judging from how we’ve been kissing and holding hands for three years and in this bed for the past nine hours since last night, I couldn’t possibly tell.”

in which daichi finally gets the day off and teaches a romantically-frustrated suga how to be honest with himself. 

extreme fluff

i do (cherish you) by gabstar (T)

Summary: The first time Daichi suggests it, it’s a joke.

“Sugawara Koushi,” he says solemnly. He’s bent on one knee, the floor is still sticky with sweat post-practice. He offers up the lost ring, found while mopping off gym floors. “Will you marry me?”

((Five times Daichi asks Suga to marry him, plus once where he finally, finally says yes.))

in the shadow of the mountain by laubear (T)  ❤

Summary:  After graduation, Daichi and Suga climb a mountain to see whether it will make them the grown-ups they’re supposed to be.

when all the songs are through by thewindraiser (T)

Summary: Daichi is out for lunch with some of his colleagues when he spots it.

The ring.

you better go catch it by laubear (G)

Summary:  Desperate times call for desperate measures. Sometimes those desperate measures involve compromising perfectly good scientific data, but Daichi’s learned to stop being surprised when it comes to Suga.

you can only take what you can carry by skittidyne (T)

Summary: Suga pulled Noya down from the chair. Daichi finally decided enough was enough. He knew he was just doing it to draw him in, and damn it, it worked (just like it always worked against him), because there was no way he was letting Suga get into one of Kuroo and Bokuto’s competitions.

Suga had their libero thrown over one shoulder by the time Daichi reached them. “Daichi-san! Look!” Noya chirped, waving the arm that wasn’t wrapped around the vice-captain.

Suga put up his free arm, flexing, and gave Daichi a wink.

(( or, alternatively: "do you even lift, bro?" ))

*

Hanamaki/Matsukawa (otp: i wear my boyfriend’s clothes, i look incredible)

and indeed there will be time by pickledplumes (T)

Summary: Between volleyball and the looming end of their high school years, Hanamaki thinks he’s already dealing with more than enough, thank you very much.

Unfortunately, no one else gets the memo.

-Alternatively: “I am not in love with my best friend!” says Hanamaki Takahiro. Nobody buys his bullshit.

hang out fall in love by carafin (T)

Summary: In which Hanamaki's humble medical practice is threatened by an intractable asshole a witch doctor who's just moved into the shop down the street. Medical/Witchcraft AU.

As far as Hanamaki’s concerned, and as far as bad life decisions go, setting up your witch clinic right next to an actual, proper, medical clinic is practically akin to setting up an all-you-can-eat buffet right next to a gym. Or a sex toy shop next to a church. Or a vegetable patch next to a goat farm. Or – yeah, the point is, this Matsukawa guy has totally cornered the market in Terrible-Life-Decision-Making-Skills.

lost with you (take my hand) by airblends (T)

Summary:  When a missed stop or ten lead to an involuntary day trip to Kyoto for Matsukawa and Hanamaki, they find that maybe the journey really is its own reward sometimes.

poolside by tothemoon (T)  ❤

Summary: At eighteen, it'd been a matter of wading.

At twenty-five, Hanamaki tries not to fall in headfirst.

plus one by orphan_account (G)

Summary: "Did you know we're dating?"

"What? Says who?"

"Says everyone apparently."

"Oh," Hanamaki frowns for a few seconds before shrugging and turning his attention back to the chocolate fountain. "Nice."

that’s what you get (for waking up in vegas) by skittidyne (T)

Summary: “There was an Elvis?” Hajime asks.

“He was the officiator. It’s the cliché, right?”

“…Officiator of what?” Tooru asks with a look down at Takahiro’s hand.

“You can borrow my phone to pull pictures from for our wedding album.” Issei reaches over and grasps the hand with the ring on it. Everyone is staring at their clasped hands like a three-headed lobster just crawled onto the table. “You were both the best men and I was very, deeply touched by how affected you both were at the ceremony,” he says in a perfect deadpan.

(( or: iwaizumi does not want to be the responsible one, and thus they suffer the consequences, or, perhaps, 'suffer' is a bit too strong of a word ))

Wet Your Whistle by darkmagicalgirl (E)

Summary:  Hanamaki gets a job as a bartender. Matsukawa likes his uniform. (Alternatively: Matsukawa tries to ignore his huge crush on his friend-with-benefits. He fails.)

*

Iwaizumi/Konoha (otp: ace and jack of all trades; alternatively: otp: i know fukurodani and seijou probably have never breathed the same air just let me have this)

Ace and Jack by masi (M)

Summary:  Iwaizumi and Konoha are neighbors and teammates. Maybe friends too. They get along most of the time.

*

Kenma/Kuroo (otp: backbone, brain, heart) 

Cat’s Out of the Bag by shions_heart (T)

Summary: When Kuroo Tetsurou drunkenly proposes to his best friend Kozume Kenma during the midnight release of Kenma's first ever video game, Kenma doesn't think anything could be more embarrassing.

But when the proposal ends up going viral, Kenma's forced to confront feelings about his friend that he's kept locked away for a long time.

Collecting Days by pickledplumes (G)

Summary: 

The silence of the crowd as they recite their vows and say I do is deafening, their cheers as he and Tetsurou kiss even more so, and Kenma thinks some distant version of him would have shied away and ran; but right now he’s in the arms of the only man he’s ever loved, locked in the most passionate kiss he’s ever known, and he feels like he can take on the world.

curiosity kills by newamsterdam (T)  ❤

Summary: Kenma rescues a cat.

Later on, the cat saves him in return.

i built you a home in my heart by newamsterdam (M)

Summary:

Yaku doesn’t let Kuroo derail him. “You don’t even have that excuse. And I’ve known you and Kenma too long to think that these feelings didn’t exist, before today.”

There’s a truth in what he says. Kuroo’s chest feels too small to contain his heart, beating giddily against his ribs. Even if he falls into his usual back and forth with Yaku, everything is different today.

“It’s not like that,” he says softly. He cups both hands around his mug, looking into the dregs of his coffee. “It’s like… I couldn’t even let myself think of it before, you know? I couldn’t let my mind even go there, because it would’ve been unbearable, to know and not be able to do anything about it.”

Yaku shakes his head, kicking at Kuroo’s legs under the table. “Oh my god,” he says. “You’re going to be hopeless now, aren’t you?”

Five years after high school— what changes, what doesn't, and what really matters, in the end.

love’s not the way to treat a friend by girltalk (T)

Summary: There’s really nothing quite as revelatory as the silent minutes spent in bed during the aftermath of a wet dream involving you and your high-school best friend.

(i must profess) by sadaf (T)

Summary:  “No!” Kenma says, voice high and through clenched teeth as Kuroo offers it to him. “Put- put that away! Put that away!”

mr. steal yo man by saintjoy (T)

Summary:  Lev's got it bad for Kenma. Unfortunately, he's already got one hell of a boyfriend.

Show a Little Faith by minijhi (G)

Summary: 

“Why are you sending me a singing Valentine telegram?" Kenma asks, mouth flattened. "It’s six months until Valentine’s Day.”

“I bought a dwarf over the summer to use as cupid.” Kuroo says. “I figured he could use some practice.”

-

Presenting Kenma as the Boy-Who-Lived, whose living becomes a lot more interesting when Ravenclaw Prince Kuroo Tetsurou starts sending him singing telegrams about defeating the Dark Lord.

Static by icespyders (G)  ❤❤❤

Summary: 

stat•ic /ˈstadik/ adj. : 1. lacking in movement, action, or change; 2. concerned with bodies at rest or forces in equilibrium n. : crackling or hissing noises on a telephone, radio, or other telecommunications system.

He hadn't taken it well when Kuroo went away.

The Wedding Hall Shuffle by icespyders (T)  ❤

Summary: Box steps for a waltz are easy, even if you've never done them before, even if you learned at a strangers' wedding from another stranger, even if you're not quite sure what you're doing. But love? Love is something else, something without regimented one-two-three-four patterns, without rules.

Maybe it's silly, but Kenma thinks he might be figuring it out.

*

Kyoutani/Yahaba (otp: mad dog and puppy)

all you have is your fire by knightswatch (T)

Summary: 

Shigeru is quickly hurtling toward the point where he’s going to have to change the relationship that he’s built with Kyoutani in ways that he can’t take back, and it’s one of the reasons that he isn’t particularly looking forward to his birthday.

No matter how he feels, Shigeru knows he can’t afford to be in love. Or at least, he can’t afford to act on it.

Close to the Chest by darkmagicalgirl (T)  ❤❤❤

Summary:  It takes Yahaba thirteen years to realize he's different from the other kids, one to figure out how to hide it, and two more to learn to be happy just the way he is. Yahaba's journey ft. an extremely annoyed Kyoutani, best friend in the world Watari, and loads and loads of good senpai Oikawa.

Mixed Signals by snoqualmie (T)

Summary:  Feelings are definitely a thing he’s having. Kyoutani is really sweet. He’s family oriented and he prefers novels with female leads and he’s in all honors classes. He kind of has a big head, totally has a big smile, definitely has a big heart. His eyes are nice, he’s got that dimple. Yahaba groans and rubs his fists into his eyes.

Room to Grow by kiyala (G)  ❤❤❤

Summary:  Kyoutani and Yahaba have enough on their minds in third year, as ace and captain of the volleyball team, butting heads both on and off the court while trying to improve their game so the team has a shot of winning this year. When they find a puppy abandoned in a park, their lives only get even more complicated.

the sunset hours by commovente (T)

Summary: 

set in an alternate sendai city where everything is almost exactly the same, except every day during sunset, each person's heart is visible to everyone else, in whatever form that may be, for better or for worse.

in which kyoutani has an actual puppy dog heart, yahaba is the most unconventional disney character alive, and oikawa is still the best senpai.

or: the story of yahaba's adventures in the big city.

This World is Just Illusion by shions_heart (T)

Summary: Yahaba Shigeru was a scientist set to work on and administer the SS-415 Serum to the test subject Kyoutani Kentarou. But when the experiment fails, he's forced to relocate with an unstable Kyoutani and make a new home for them.

(Or the story of how the Mad Dog gang was formed.)

*

Lev/Yaku (otp: angry small and dirty large)

Touch by Mysecretfanmoments (T)

Summary:  After a twisted ankle and an uncomfortable realization, Yaku starts to see a different side of Lev—one he doesn't want to kick at all. (Or, well... not often.)

Yaku and the Beanstalk by Mysecretfanmoments (T)

Summary: 

Yaku Morisuke is many things: a libero, a caretaker, a good student. He's also about to find Lev Haiba stuck in a vending machine.

(In which Yaku accidentally recruits Lev to the volleyball team and can't get rid of him after.)

*

Oikawa/Suga (otp: 100 days with mr. refreshing)

all the small things by Authoress (T)

Summary:

Sugawara Koushi.

Oikawa’s brain supplies the name of the person standing at the other end of the aisle before Oikawa can even register him, attuned to spitting out facts about other volleyball players on a second’s notice, even after all these years. Karasuno High vice-captain. 174 cm…no, more like 176 now. Skilled at raising morale and bringing an element of surprise to their strategy. Troublesome. Refreshing. Setter.

The enemy.

*

Oikawa/Ushijima (otp: don’t you ever forget my worthless pride & prejudice)

A Fish out of Water by masi (M)

Summary:  Ushijima is having a hard time adjusting to life in Tokyo.

This Insignificant Pride and Prejudice by Mysecretfanmoments, Pouler (T)  ❤❤❤

Summary:  Oikawa Tooru graduated high school with the burning desire to succeed in his college career. He'd hoped that might include taking down his arch-nemesis along the way, but when he finds that his college team hosts an offensively familiar face, he can't help but think that the universe might be conspiring against him. After all, what could be worse than playing on the same team as Ushijima?

it’s kind of like a promise by songtofly (T)  ❤

Summary:  Devotion, Ushijima Wakatoshi learns, is a two-way street.

like someone in love by masi (T)

Summary:  Oikawa tries to resolve an unexpected Ushiwaka-related problem carefully and calmly.

#notalovestory by iiejn, readerofsaph (T)

Summary: 

Oikawa Tooru, Japan's representative pretty boy actor, lands the best movie role of his career yet. Shame about who else is acting in it, too.

Dearest Oikawa,

I am sorry that you hit me at the party last week. I am confident that your reputation will survive the backlash. Hopefully we will be able to speak on better terms the next time we meet.

Yours, Ushijima Wakatoshi

On A Willful Afternoon When I Thought Love Could Choose by Zee (E)

Summary: Ushijima gets stuck in a repeating time loop on the day his university's team must play Oikawa's. Shenanigans ensue.

Planting Season by masi (T)

Summary:  After graduation, Ushijima runs into Oikawa again.

Searching Happiness by sunspearing (T)  ❤

Summary:  The five times Oikawa tries to call it quits, and the one time Ushijima does.

*

Semi/Shirabu (otp: loving is easy, teasing is easier)

don’t let this magic die  by oilpaints (T)

Summary: 

Shirabu glances out the window, listening to the soft pitter-patter of the rain, and the even sounds of Semi’s breathing. Only now, as he glances around the cramped, dimly-lit room and spots Semi’s bag, already open and spilling out clothes onto the floorboards, does he realizes just what he’s gotten himself into.

It’s just four days, he reminds himself. Four days of sharing a room with Semi, of all people, but still — he’s been through worse, right? Right.

SPOILER:

Actually, whether he’s right or wrong is up for debate, because everything goes about just as well as anyone would expect. (Which is to say: surprisingly, nobody dies, Shirabu learns more about Semi Eita than he ever would have bargained for, and that, maybe, he’s not so bad.

Maybe.)

face to the sun by oilpaints (G)

Summary: 

Shirabu Kenjirou, as told by friends both old and new.

Kawatabi clicks his tongue. “I still don’t get why you were born in spring,” he says. “You’re so bitter and cold. More of a winter child, if you ask me.”

Shirabu just shrugs lightly, lips tugged upwards in a faint smile. “But I didn’t ask you,” he says. “And besides, spring is all about new beginnings, isn’t it?”

Impulse by Metis_Ink (T)  ❤❤❤

Summary: 

"Semi’s not sure how subtle the team is trying to be, but there must be some ungodly conspiracy pointed against him. It’s working in the sense that Semi is half aware that maybe this rivalry with Shirabu is a lot more troublesome than it seems, but really, that’s all he's getting."

Or

Second year Semi Eita faces the downward spiral that is his life following the arrival of some first year setter who's way too cocky for his own good.

Scarf Trick by togekissies (G)

Summary: The last thing Shirabu wants to do is run into a naggy upperclassman after a long day.

seven day’s luck by togekissies (T)

Summary: 

(semishira week fic collection)

One: Semi and Shirabu go on a date. Two: Shirabu can't stand executive meddling more than he can't stand Semi. Three: Shirabu and Semi are just kids at reform school, discussing treason on the roof in the way only prideful teenagers can. Four: Semi is a nostalgic loser. Shirabu pushes him in a creek. Five: Semi steals some intel. Shirabu doesn't like patching him up.

*

Tsukishima/Yamaguchi (otp: when did you ever get so cool?)

blue summer sky by deanpendragon (T)  ❤❤❤

Summary:  In which Tadashi manages his grandfather's pet store and Tsukishima works at the music shop next door. Lots of exclamation points, dialogue, obvious crushes, internal (and overexcited) monologuing, animal trivia and terrible puns ensue.

by any other name by memorde (T)

Summary: 

A Concise Guide to Dealing with People Asking if your Best Friend and/or Crush is Single:

Panic

Lie

Run

campfire in your chest by deanpendragon (M)  ❤❤❤

Summary:  Kei realizes in their second year of high school that he's probably been in love with Yamaguchi since they were ten. However hopeless he might be in handling that situation, Kei prays he's at least not as hopeless as Hinata and Kageyama. But he just might be.

let’s keep this professional by laubear  ❤

Summary: 

When the first sincere gesture of Tsukishima Kei’s life costs him his glamorous job as a sports agent, only a wide-eyed, freckled accountant volunteers to jump ship with him. But if the two of them can save the careers of volleyball’s legendary Oddball Duo, things might just work out after all.

Or, the story of how Tsukishima Kei got fired, got married, adopted a kid, and fell in love. In that order.

levels of investment by skittidyne (T)

Summary: 

Yamaguchi was far less nervous in practice than any games, and he’d gotten far more skilled at serving in a few short months, so Tsukishima was utterly unprepared for the feeling of a volleyball slamming into the back of his head.

There was a beat of silence.

The ball had enough of an angle to bounce off his head and over to the other side of the net, landing neatly in front of a stunned Sugawara.

(( or: Ennoshita plots for the future, Suga wants to mess around and is intent on dragging everyone down to his level, Noya tries to become a spiker, Kiyoko is a good senpai, Yamaguchi cries, and Tsukishima wonders if he's been dropped off in the Twilight Zone without his notice ))

These Words You Don’t Hear by ohhello (E)

Summary:  Tadashi is convinced entering into his third year at Karasuno means that he is one year closer to losing what he holds most dear: his team, his friends, and most importantly his daily moments with Kei. While Tadashi wrestles with his fear of lasts, Kei struggles with how to offer him firsts.

[vivikawidow]

He closed the door of the study over tightly. Leslie never bothered him when he was in there but he couldn’t take the chance. He picked up the old style rotary phone that was on his desk. Leslie loved vintage things which was why she always tied her hair in old school poodle style and why their home looked like the setting of an old sitcom.

He dialled his agent Harvey’s number first. The clinic would have to wait. After a few rings the man himself’s voice greeted him.

“Ah Laurence,” he began in his usually overly enthusiastic way. “Leslie was telling me you were unhappy on MARCH OF OUR TIMES.”

“Scarlett is a nightmare and Mark has no clue how to run a set.”

Harvey sighed sympathetically. “You’re on the soap opera scene now. Things are done a little differently. If it is really that bad I can talk to Finch and get them to write you out. He won’t be happy but your happiness is all that matters.”

Laurence gritted his teeth. “Do you have something else lined up for me?”

“No,” he said simply. “You’ve been working yourself mad lately. You’ll be no good to anyone if you put yourself in the hospital. Why don’t you just take a break? Give yourself time and I’ll find you a great part.”

“Is that play – what’s it called? – Dilemma! Still going?”

He could hear Harvey change the phone from one ear to the other. He was wanting to make sure he had heard correctly. He could sense the frowning in Harvey’s next words. He could imagine the deep wrinkle the agent always got on his forehead when he was preparing to play hard ball. “That’s,” he considered his words carefully, “community theatre.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Laurence decided. “Is it still going?” The actor pressed through the agents disapproval.

“I’m sure it is. They would drop everything to have you in the role but …”

“Good,” Laurence interrupted. “Have them send me a script.”

“It’s beneath you.”

“I don’t care.”

“It’s for charity. There’s no money in it …”

Laurence shook his head. “If they want me that badly they will cough up a fee.”

Harvey laughed. A hint of nerves traced its tone. “Maybe we should put you on the negotiating side. Fine, since you’re feeling charitable I’ll see what I can arrange. Will I tell Mark to do one?”

The call was interrupted. A white tablet on the desk began to rattle as another call was bidding for his attention. Calls to the tablet were kept exclusively for Harbour House.

“I’ll stick with the soap opera. I have to go,” said Laurence to his agent before hanging up.

He flicked open the cover of the tablet and was greeted by a green HARBOUR HOUSE logo. He slid the answer button to accept the video call.

The logo was replaced by the face of a man in his early fifties. He had a long pointed chin that almost hooked. He would have been handsome if it weren’t for the fact he had shaved the moustache he normally wore making his long face seem even longer and sharper.

“DR WINSLOW,” Laurence was the first to greet.

The doctor grinned. “You know for a man who is in the limelight you are rather elusive Laurence. I have been trying to reach you.”

“I’m sorry,” said the actor sincerely. “I have been busy.”

It was then he noticed that the doctor was dressed his agent in surgical gear. One of his surgical team filtered past behind him.

“What’s wrong?” Laurence asked.

The doctor swung the camera around to show a young girl lying on a surgical bed. She was crying out in pain. One of her legs had been removed. Winslow swung the camera back round to his own face again. “As you can see the young lady is in a great deal of pain. I may have been able to save her other leg but you, you naughty man, kept us waiting and we may have missed her chance. I needed to speak to you before amputating.”

The girl screamed like the victim of some cheesy horror villain.

“Just let me go!”

“Are you sure you have to? I mean is it really necessary?” Laurence asked.

Winslow flashed a well polished grin. “If you wish for the young lady to live.”

Laurence couldn’t listen to her crying anymore. That was no acting.

“Fine do what you have to do to help her.”

“Laurence! I will make sure everyone knows about this!” She was screaming in the background as the surgical team began to administer pre med.

Winslow turned away from the camera and called back over his shoulder, “miss you really must calm down. That isn’t a nice way to speak to your benefactor now is it?”

He returned his vibrant stare back on Laurence. “This is going to cost,” he said. “Awful business but business none the less.”

Laurence closed his eyes. “Fine,” he agreed.

Winslow beamed again. “Splendid. Then I’ll be in touch.”

The girl gave one last scream and the video cut off. Laurence dropped the tablet back onto the table. His heart was heavy and emotion was burning in his eyes. He wept unashamedly but the show would have to continue. Some wretched community play was not going to be enough and his wife was expecting him for cocktails on the patio in half an hour.

***

It had been a long night Leslie had gone home to COLDFORD to see her sisters. It seemed her baby sister, Laura, had gotten herself into trouble again. It left Laurence to attend a function for some new production the studio was looking to get up and running alone. Laurence had offered to join his wife but she refused his escort.

“Oh no Loo Loo,” she had said. “It’s just Laura being a brat as usual. Besides KARYN will be there.” Karyn was the eldest of the Doyle sisters and a HIGH COURT JUDGE. Whatever trouble Laura was in, this time if they had called in the big guns. Laurence didn’t envy his young sister in law.

She kissed him on both cheeks as a driver Grant – or was it Gil? – collected the matching LUEN designed luggage.

He had a rare weekend alone. Laurence wasn’t much of a solitary person. Ever since boyhood he liked to surround himself with people. Knowing he was going back to an empty, rambling beach house alone he loaded up more at the function than he normally would have. He noticed the looks on the studio executives faces as he tried to talk to them but made little sense of him.

Around midnight he decided to leave. He decided on a drive through the mountains. A monumentally stupid idea he agreed but alcohol had emboldened him to the danger and impending loneliness made his home seem daunting.

No one took his car keys away from him. He swerved along the road at too great a speed but luckily the roads were empty. It wasn’t until he returned to La Rocha Beach where he lived that he collided with a young girl girl named Gillian. She screamed as Laurence struggled to help her. Her leg was trapped. One of them was completely wrecked.

“I’m so sorry,” said Laurence repeatedly but she was in too much pain to hear him. Laurence called the only person he knew could help him, Dr Gregory Winslow of Harbour House clinic.

She continued screaming.

“Shut up!” Laurence barked at her. “I can’t hear what he’s saying.”

“Why don’t you call an ambulance? Whilst you are at it get the police down here!” Cried Gillian.

“It seems like the young lady is in a lot of pain,” said Winslow in honeyed tones.

“I can’t call an ambulance. I’ve been drinking. They’ll throw the book at me.”

Winslow tutted. “That is terrible. You should know the dangers of drunk driving. Weren’t you already given community service for that sort of thing?”

Laurence was frustrated. He was sobering fast, Gillian was still screaming and before long someone else would come along and see them.

“I don’t need a lecture. Can you help her or not?”

“I suppose with a man in your position I can understand your need for discretion,” Winslow agreed. Bring her to Port Rocha. I’ll have someone collect her from there. She will get the best of care here at Harbour House.

Gillian’s cries stopped suddenly. She had fallen unconscious.

“She’s passed out!” the actor exclaimed as though he was reaching the back rows.

“Calm down,” said Winslow. “She will be losing a lot of blood. Tighten something around the worst of the wounds and get her to Port Rocha as soon as you can. I have a helicopter setting out immediately to collect her.”

Laurence was ready for hanging up when Winslow added. “Oh and Laurence, do drive carefully. We wouldn’t want any more little accidents now would we? You do realise this whole affair could have been avoided if it weren’t for your reckless irresponsibility.”

When he did hang up he struggled to free Gillian from the wreckage of her car and into the back seat of his own. She stirred again and she tried to hit him when she did but she was weak. As he tied a torn bit of his shirt around her wound she tried to escape his clutches.

“Stop it you stupid cow!” He scolded. “I’m going to get you help.”

Gillian’s leg was hanging limply. The femur bone was crushed beyond repair. He wrapped one of Leslie’s favourite picnic blankets around her as she started to shiver with shock. He sped off to the port. This time he navigated the roads carefully. The incident had left him as sober as he would ever be.

He wanted to save Gillian’s life. She would get the best treatment at Harbour House but that treatment cost. He had to replace his car. He had to replace Leslie’s favourite blanket. Then the costs of boarding at the facility came in along with invoices for surgical procedures, nurses time, after care, medication. The cost of discretion and covering up his mistake drew everything fine actor Laurence DuBoe had. It would only be a matter of time before they were drained dry and his wife found out. With the ever imposing JUDGE KARYN DOYLE looming over him who knows what could happen?

Enjoy this?

PART 1 is live now.

PART 3 will be available tomorrow from 6pm. Tune in to find out what our A list actor plans on getting out of this bind.

Check out some of Vivika Widow’s thrilling novels.

ClickHEREto readMAESTROand book your music lesson with Mr Baines.

ClickHEREto readMUSEand join David as he tries to salvage his reputation in the art community.

Seasoned Actor Laurence DuBoe has spent all the money has covering his mistakes. Will the pay cheque from a dreadful soap opera be enough to keep the truth from his wife? He closed the door of the study over tightly. Leslie never bothered him when he was in there but he couldn’t take the chance.

[slcollective]

INCOMING TRANSMISSION #12 Part3

*(audio to text format for back up records.)*

Recording Location: Ballora’s Gallery

Date: 03/1/2017

Time: 3:25 am

-Recording Start-

( Taking advantage of the music box just starting to play Sandy quietly lowered herself to the ground and started crawling quietly. Sandy knew it would take a few moments for Ballora’s ears too adjust to the sounds of her own music box. it was a known weakness of hers and she knew damn well what Bell’s weaknesses were. after all she designed and built her.

why Bell decided to use the music box was beyond her. she considered that it may be a way for Bell to taunt her and her other victims by making it a game. it was a sick thing to do nonetheless)

Ballora: (singing) why do you hide inside your walls?

(when Bell started singing she knew that this was now a game to her. as she was crawling sandy noticed something. Bell was listening for her exclusively. as see was seemingly dancing around her obviously missing her exact location. as Bell passed her Sandy took notice of something Bell’s eyes were closed and one of them was slightly sparking.

She must of kicked her way harder than she thought. realising that she had a bit more an edge Sandy picks up her speed while crawling but only slightly she knew better than to crawl too loudly.)

Ballora:(Singing)  When there’s music in my halls!

Ballora:(singing) all I see is an empty room. No more joy an empty tomb.

(Sandy was halfway there only a little further. even though she was in pain she couldn't stop now)

Ballora:(Singing) It’s so good to sing all--

( the sound of a the main door to Ballora’s Gallery opening and closing. followed by some lite metallic footsteps.)

(Ballora singing stopped dead as the footsteps moved through the room. this was obviously not in Bell’s plan, but was also not good sign for Sandy ether. 

the steps weren't heading towards Bell nor Sandy. instead they seemed to be walking between them.

there is a few of the bots that would have footsteps like that. Funtime Freddy, Owen, and Circus Baby were too big to make such lite footsteps, but Funtime Foxy, Ennard, Katy, and Wolfy were more likely.

They both stopped to listen more carefully. as they did the sound of metallic claws could be slightly heard. that sound removed Ennard but left her with concern over the footsteps belonging to Funtime Foxy and leaving her with the  slight hope over them belonging to ether Wolfy or Katy.)

Ballora: Is someone there? 

(the footsteps stopped)

Ballora:I hear you creeping through my room! You can’t hide from me!

(Sandy stayed silent and barely moved. with the music box stopped Bell could hear her movements clear as day. Sandy held back her sobs and held her breath she dared not to reveal herself.)

( a voice rings out with a purr.)

Katy: Hiding? From you? Little mouse you must be confused.

Ballora: (with a bit a growl) You!

( Sandy Let out a loud gasp out of relief. Getting both of the bots attention.

Ballora now releasing her game has been compromised gets into a crawling position and darts in Sandy’s direction.  

with the realization of the danger Sandy is in and knowing that one of her primary functions is to protect her creators. Katy sprints to intercept Ballora and unlike Ballora Katty is armed with razor sharp claws.

Katy: (Yells) Dr. Sandra Go!

(with that Katy slams into ballora with a loud crash)

( Sandy takes this opportunity to run as her two creations fight it out)

(its when Sandy is is about to reach the door she Hears Katty cry out followed by a loud crash and something metallic coming after her. 

She knew it was Bell. after all Bell knew how to take Katy down. she has done so more than once. it didn’t matter if she was armed or not.

Sandy picked up her speed and grabbed the doorknob and swung it open.

She took one look back to see what she already knew.

A now badly scratched up and angry Ballora crawling after her.

Sandy steps in and slams and locks the breaker room door in the Cyborg's face.)

Ballora: I’ll KILL YOU!

(Ballora begins using her metal yet dull nails to claw at the door)

(Sandy Knows Bell can’t get in and breathlessly walks over to the breaker room controls) 

(the room lit up and was filled with the sounds of electricity discharging at random. giving her enough light to find the controls and she starts to restore the buildings power.)

( while Sandy is restoring power she notices a disturbing lack of Funtime Freddy’s appearance. the last she checked he should be in here?

as the thought crossed her mind she also noticed Ballora has stopped scratching at the door.

Something wasn’t right?)

(As Sandy finishes restoring the power she hears the power whir on throughout the building. followed by a horrific scream.)

(mortified Sandy tries to contact one of the others over the  walkie talkie)

( walkie talkie going off)

Sandy: Hello? Is Someone there?

(static)

( walkie talkie going off)

Sandy: I repeat is someone there? 

(static)

( walkie talkie going off)

Sandy: Michael? Charels? 

(static)

( walkie talkie going off)

Sandy: Guys?

(static)

(a cold voice booms from behind her.)

Ennard: they can’t Hear you Doctor!

(Sandy turns to see the twisted form that was once a highly respected Psychiatrist who is now twisted mesh of wires and a clown mask.)

Sandy: (voice trembling) Ennard!? 

Ennard:( laughs a little) Did you think it was over?

(Sandy says nothing and takes a few steps back until she meets the control panel.)

Ennard: speachless are we? that's ok you really don't need to say anything else!

(with that Ennard twists the wires in his left arm around her binding her tightly)

Ennard: there is one more thing you must experience. the worst thing you have ever done to us... it was meant to keep us in line.. but you used it for so much more... I think this is the perfect room to emulate it don’t you think?

( Ennard lifts Sady over his head and close to the many crackling wires)

(Ennard stares her down)

Sandy: (in a Whimper) Please... I have a son..

(Ennard pauses and closes his eyes for a moment and looks down)

Ennard: A son I truly pity...

(Ennard then opens his eyes and snaps his head to look Sandy closely)

Ennard: A son who is about loose both of his parents.

(With that Ennard throws Sandy into a tangle of high voltage wires.)

(Sandy screams as thousands of volts run through her body causing the buildings lights to flicker as her body violently convulses and then to finally  ignite.) 

( her body manages to free itself due its erratic movements and falls flat and limp on the floor. still slightly spasming from the nerves exposed to the electrical forces.

Ennard Just watches the whole time wordlessly. 

He finally gave his patients the justice they deserved.

the Justice they have been denied for 15 years..

As he watched her body make its last slight movements he hears a knock on the door)

Ballora: I heard that bitch screaming through the door... Is it over?

( Ennard walks over to the door and opens it.

he sees Ballora’s many scratches and gives out a sigh.)

Ennard: My god Bell you look awful. Let's get you cleaned up.)

(Ennard walks over to Bell and gently leads her into the Breaker room.

He sits her down and begins fixing her up.starting with her eyes.)

Ballora: you didn’t answer my question..

(Ennard spends a few seconds fiddling with her eyes and manages to get them to work. with her eyes repaired he points to where Sandy’s body ended up)

Ennard: See for yourself my dear.

(Ballora Squints her eyes at the direction Ennard is pointing at and sees Sandy’s body. satisfied she leans into Ennard)

Ballora: Good!

(Exhausted by her injuries and the chase Ballora passes out in Ennard’s arms. 

Ennard wraps his arms around her gently)

Ennard: You did good! It’s up to the others now.

-Recording Stop-

–End of Transmission–

[silhouetteofagirl]

Quandary (from a Study in Synonyms)

Just as a general headcanon, I feel like dwarves use both tattoos and piercings as markers. But I'm very much of the opinion that piercings are a very class based thing and that casteless get theirs by taking them from upper castes (that or being a noble hunter and getting them to be alluring. Kinda like their whole golden teeth thing.)

Just as a general content warning: hella body piercings and supposed-to-be-but-not-quite-platonic touching of said piercings. Also pining, lots of pining.

Read on AO3

The dust has mostly settled after the siege, the dead have been buried, and the worst of the rubble has been cleared.  Still, their days are busy between the repairs, her duties as Warden-Commander, and the general mayhem left after the fight.  Her province had rallied behind her, as weird as it was to think she has a province to rally behind her, so there is no shortage of people willing to help out in exchange for a warm meal. But still, it is nice to find a quiet moment on a quiet night to just be Sigyn and not Warden-Commander or Arlessa.  So she is pleased to find the time sit with Sigrun on the roof of a tower on such a clear night.  

She isn’t entirely sure if the path she had found was supposed to be used or was merely a forgotten, cramped hallway leading to nowhere particularly useful, but it had led her to the roof which allowed for privacy.  Between the two of them, they have gotten through most of a bottle of mead that had been left alone by Oghren.  The alcohol sits inside her, but for once it feels warm instead of feeling like a dead weight.

“So, wait, explain this to me again,” Sigrun is saying as she leans close so they have a similar line of sight.  “Those six stars are supposed to represent a sword?”

“Of mercy, I believe.  It’s called Judas.  Jadeux? Something like that,” Sigyn replies, glancing at Sigrun.  The pale moonlight makes Sigrun look much paler than usual, though she is starting to develop a very light tan and, much to Sigyn’s delight, a few freckles.

“But why?” Sigrun asks.

“No idea, just something they give meaning to.” Sigyn shrugs and takes another swing of the mead.  “Why do brands mean what they do? Someone put meaning into our marks.”

“The surface really changed you, didn’t it?” Sigrun’s face looks thoughtful.

“Sunshine, dogs, seasons? How could it not?” Sigrun gestures for the bottle.

She nods her thanks when Sigyn passes it.  “Not that, although I am curious about this winter thing, but being a duster, being casteless, and then coming to the surface.  That changed you.”

“Perhaps, but how could it not?” Sigyn asks. 

“It all puts it in perspective.  My ancestors may have done some wrong, but these marks are meaningless to humans and elves.  And now I’m a warrior caste, even though my mark will always state otherwise.  It makes it hard to believe we are our brands.”

“I suppose that makes sense.  But if there is nothing wrong with being a duster on the surface, why not be proud of our collective heritage?”

Sigyn scoffs, “I have some pride; I keep my trophies.”

Sigrun shakes her head and says before taking a sip, “What? You have trophies?”

“Oh.” Sigyn pauses, “I guess I haven’t been wearing them out.”

“See what I’m saying?” Sigrun gestures as she hands the bottle back to her.  “If you are a duster, why not be proud of it here? Where no one truly knows what they mean?”

“Because all of them would intimidate the tall folk.” Sigyn brings the bottle to her lips.

“Yes!” she says brightly; she’s so bright it almost hurts at times.  “And then when they learn what they mean, let them be really scared.”

“I have a lot.” Sigyn says, leaning forward to rest her head on a fist.

“And I would love to see you wear all of them,” she says softly, leaning into her space.

Sigyn tries to ignore the way her heart flutters at the admittance.  She stands before she can second guess herself and offers a hand to Sigrun to help her to her feet.  “All right, come with me.  But, I did warn you.”

They walk quickly down the tight set of stairs that lead them to the living quarters.  There are a few places where there are holes in the walls from the attack, although most are covered in canvas.  Thankfully the weather is fair enough that the holes offer no real inconvenience to anyone unless they happen to sleep walk.  But it is late enough that the halls are fairly empty; though they come across Anders at one point.  He’s carrying a purring Ser Pounce-A-Lot in his arms and he gives them a knowing look.  They exchange a few pleasantries before Sigrun kisses Ser Pounce-A-Lot and then dramatically kisses Anders’ hand when he pouts comically.  Then they continue on their way.

“Woah, you weren't kidding about the size of this room.” Sigrun says in awe when they enter Sigyn’s chambers.

“Yes.” Sigyn frowns, “I hate it.”

“Why?” Sigrun asks as she spins around slowly, taking in the room.  Half of it is more of an office space, lined with bookshelves with a large desk covered with neat stacks of untouched papers that faces a fireplace that serves as a divider of the two spaces.  In front of each of the hearths are sets of plush chairs and the other side of the room holds a large bed, a few chests, a small mirror.  “It’s beautiful.”

“It’s too big for just me.” She leads Sigrun past the fireplace.

“Is that why you have so many pillows?” she asks in a teasing tone.

“I spent the last year with my mabari for all of it and Alistair for most of it.  Rica and I shared a bed— it feels too big.” She clears her throat and goes to one of the chests.  “Anyway, this wasn't what we were here for.”

“Right! Let me see them!” Sigyn chuckles at her enthusiasm as she pulls out a small pouch from the chest.  Sigrun has perched on the bed and looks excited.  Her back is to the fire, so her tattoos almost look sinister, yet Sigyn finds herself having to swallow to try to push her heart back from where it has tried to leap.  She crosses to the bed and dumps out the contents of the bag onto the bed spread, the amalgamation of jewelry creating a small pile.  Sigrun lets out an impressed breath.  “You must have pissed off a lot of people.”

“You could say that.” She chuckles.  She goes to the wall and unhooks the small mirror before returning to the bed.  She sits across from her and waits as Sigrun looks over each piece of jewelry.

Then Sigrun looks up and smiles, “Well, don’t tease! Put them in!” She holds out a plain gold hoop.

Sigyn frowns, “It’s—” she searches for words but can’t come up with any,

“I want to see how beautiful you are with every victory you have won worn proudly,” Sigrun says earnestly and Sigyn can only nod silently and take the hoop.  She inclines her head to the mirror and Sigrun lets out a quiet ‘oh!’ and holds it up for her.

She opens the ring and slips it over her lip.  It’s one of Alistair’s favorite for a variety of reasons, “Taken from a silent sister, my second time in the proving”.  Sigyn has to cross eyes to see exactly where the ring was supposed to go.  Sigrun chuckles and she grants that she must look a bit silly.  But after a few moments, it slides in and she twists it through.

She picks up a stud and a hoop made of silver that have matching onyx accents.  “Twins, same proving, counted as one opponent, I still took both.”  Sigrun moves the mirror so she can slip the stud in through her ear.  The nose ring takes a bit longer and she has to turn at one point to sneeze because it tickles.

“How did these not close? I’ve never seen you wear them,” Sigrun asks as Sigyn fiddles to close the ring.

“I wear them.  Not all at once and not out often.” There is a soft click and she smiles triumphantly.  The silver bar goes across the shell of her ear, a large bronze hoop goes through the hole in her conch and hugs her helix,  a series of small gold rings go down the helix of her other ear, two small curved bars go under her eyebrow so just the ends stick out, and finally she relaxes her face as she slips a gold bar through her bridge.  With each one, she tells a bit of its history and Sigrun chuckles in delight when she hears about the delicate hanging earring.  “I rarely wear this one, but I actually took it off a human.”

“That must have been a shock to them.” she says and Sigyn just smiles wickedly.  Finally, there is nothing but a long curved silver bar that looks similar to the two bars she has in her eyebrow.  “Where—?” She starts to ask, but the question gets caught in her throat as Sigyn starts to pull her shirt over her head.

“Is this alright? You did say you wanted to— I'm sorry.”

Sigyn lowers her shirt, but Sigrun shakes her head vigorously, “No! I’m okay, please continue.”

Worn shirt and warm chest bindings fall to a pile on the floor next to the bed.  There is a quiet moment that passes as they sit and just look at each other.  Sigyn’s brown skin is laid bare between them in the firelight, a bar through each nipple.  Then Sigyn glances down to pick up the curved rod, removes the gem from one end, and slowly presses into the valley between her breasts.  She winces and has to try a few times, but finally, the length of it sits underneath her skin so only the decorative ends rest above.

“Beautiful.” Sigrun murmurs, eyes traveling over her chest and up to her face.  Sigyn flushes but straightens her back.  Sigrun lifts a hand and pauses, “May I?”

She nods and Sigrun traces over the bar between her breasts, up her neck to run a hand along the shell of her ear, across her forehead, pausing at each eyebrow piercing and tapping her bridge, down the other to finally trace from her bridge, down her nose to rest warm fingers on her lips.  Sigyn shivers despite the warmth of the room as the world stills.  The flickering of the fire casts Sigrun’s face in shadow and she cannot tell what Sigrun is feeling, but Sigyn silently damns her own body as it continues to flush.  The moment hangs between them and her heart skips a beat.

Sigrun removes her hand as if she had been burned and Sigyn shakes her head to clear it.  “I should go,” Sigrun stammers as she scrambles to get off the bed.  Sigyn nods a bit too vigorously.

“It’s late.” She agrees as she slips off the bed to grab her shirt to hastily put it back on.

“Thanks for showing me.” Sigrun stumbles over her words as she makes her way to the door.  Sigyn merely nods, not trusting her words.  “Have a good night, Commander.” While normally her use of this title is a friendly jab, this time it hits Sigyn like a wall.

“You too,” she says, words feeling weak.  The door clicks behind the other dwarf and she is left alone.  Sigyn swallows a few times before she goes to remove her jewelry.  She only manages to remove the dangling earring before she has to stop.  There’s a lump in her throat that won’t go away.  She swallows again.  She wants.

She wants.

Sigyn looks at her too large room, her too large bed, and she wants and she misses.  She wipes away a tear, then two, then three, until she choking on her sobs.

She wants and she misses.  She misses her dog trying to crush her and take over the bed.  She misses Alistair’s soft snores and quiet murmurs in his sleep.  She misses waking up sweating because she’s too warm from being sandwiched between the two.  She wants them back to make her feel less small and make this room feel less suffocating.  She wants them.

But she also wants her.  Wants to trace every line of her tattoos.  Wants to make dwarven curses and blessings fall from her lips.  Wants to make her blush just as badly as she makes her blush.

Sigyn wants and misses and wants and cries.

[stompsite]

Im-prey-ssions

So, I started Prey 2017 up around midnight last night. Eleven hours later, I had to stop playing because I needed sleep. The only reason I’m not playing Prey 2017 right now is because I promised you I’d blog once a week, every week, and since I was busy apartment hunting, playing Prey 2017, and going to the hospital.* I still feel awful; I need several treatments, not one every six months, but dang it, I told you guys I’d write something this week, and I’m gonna do it, even if it’s just one draft. Then I’m going to go play more Prey 2017.

So, right off the bat, this game’s like a 9/10.

Like, if that’s what you want to know, there you go. I love playing this game. Now to get into the nitty gritty. I’ll be talkin a lot about positives and negatives, and I’m trying to be somewhat comprehensive. Just bear in mind: from what I’ve played so far, I like it as much as Dishonored 2 and Doom, my favorite games of last year. It’s Extremely Good.

As some of you may be aware, I really did not like Prey 2017’s demo. There are a few reasons for that, chiefly the fact that I desperately needed to go to the hospital. Literally everything was irritating me and getting under my skin. Everything. This includes Prey 2017’s melee system. Now, let me be clear here: I don’t like the melee system. I didn’t like it in Dead Island, and I don’t like it here. But the melee system is a small part of a huge game, and I happen to enjoy that game a whole heck of a lot.

Would the game be better without a stamina bar? Yes. Absolutely. 100%. The stamina bar adds nothing but annoyance to the game. It does not benefit Prey 2017’s design in any way. If they patched out the stamina system tomorrow, Prey 2017 would only benefit.

So, after the demo, I was pretty worried.

Now, something like 10 hours in: this game is a delight. I love how the station feels persistent; leave a room, come back later, find all the bits you moved right where you left them. It’s WONDERFUL!

The level design overall is Extremely Good Stuff. So far, my favorite level is Psychotronics. It feels the most reminiscent of System Shock 2, and it has two of the my favorite moments in the game so far, which I won’t spoil here. There’s an area above two big metal pods I’m still trying to figure out how to access, so I’ve got reasons to go back.

The Arboretum is fantastic. Crew quarters are ace. On and on I could go; I like every single level in this game with the sole exception of G.U.T.S., which is a long tube with zero gravity and some annoying enemies with it. Zero G outside of the station is super cool. Zero G in G.U.T.S. isn’t my thing. As a System Shock 2 comparison, G.U.T.S. is The Body of The Many. But this is one level out of like... a dozen, and as far as I can tell, you don’t have to use it again once you unlock the elevator. 

One of the coolest features of Prey 2017, which I hope everyone copies in the future, because it’s great, is the crew tracking feature. Everyone who dies leaves a corpse behind. You can use computers to pick a person to track, then find their corpse. Doing so can net you things like key cards and supplies, which opens up more of the station, allowing you to explore.

There are two kinds of Looking Glass fans, those who prefer Thief and those who prefer System Shock. I’m one of the fans who prefers System Shock; I enjoy exploring more than sneaking. It’s why I prefer S.T.A.L.K.E.R. to System Shock. It’s why I’m enjoying Prey 2017 so much. Finding a keycard and having that ‘oh yeah, I remember where that is!’ moment, going back to that spot, and finally getting to open a locked door you’ve been keeping in the back of your mind for the past few hours... it’s a great feeling. 

One of the issues I had with Bioshock is that you rarely had a reason to navigate Rapture. Bioshock 2, my favorite game in that series, went in the opposite direction, turning into a series of linear sandbox maps, like Thief. Dishonored and Dishonored 2 do the linear sandbox thing too. It’s perfectly fine design, but I’ve been hungry for a game world that I really felt like exploring.

Prey 2017 is the first truly satisfying game world I have explored since S.T.A.L.K.E.R.: Clear Sky in 2008. The entire thing is open, you just have to find the right keys and hack the right doors and lift the right crates. It’s a game that rewards exploration, not with a “+100 XP: Crawled a vent” popup, but because as you explore, you get this really satisfying sense of “oh, this goes here, and that goes there, and it all works like this...”

Prey 2017 satisfies my exploration itch. You have no idea. It’s why I didn’t want to stop playing until I physically couldn’t play anymore. The only games that have held my attention so strongly in the past few years were Dishonored 2, Doom, Metal Gear Solid V, and Mad Max.

The symbiotic relationship between “hunt for crewmembers” and the station’s many locked doors creates this insatiable urge to explore. I love it.

Do I have complaints? Yes. The stamina system doesn’t benefit the game. G.U.T.S. isn’t fun to explore or traverse. The dudes who stop you from moving are just Not At All Fun To Encounter. The combat is something where I sigh and go “oh well, here I go again.” Great combat should be emotional combat; there should be highs and lows, a great rhythm, elation and relief in victory.

It’s not like a great stealth game, where you don’t want to enter combat because stealthing is more satisfying. It’s not like System Shock 2, Alien: Isolation, or STALKER, where combat can be thrilling and terrifying in equal measure, due to player vulnerability. It’s... just kinda there. It’s easily the game’s greatest weakness.

Prey 2017’s combat is annoying. The enemies feel samey (they’re all fast, teleporty, and take a bunch of shotgun damage before they die) and are way too visually consistent to be exciting. If you look at System Shock 2′s enemies, there’s a lot more interesting visual variety in the designs, which makes the experience more enjoyable. There was a lot more tactical/strategic depth in System Shock 2 as well.

Fortunately, you spend far more time exploring than you do anything else. It’s so effin good, man. Like... I’m over here writing about Prey 2017, when all I really want to do is go hop back in Prey’s world and explore Talos I some more. The level designers outdid themselves.

Even fundamental, basic stuff like mantling and crouching feels super good to do. The game world is just a joy to exist and interact in when you’re not fighting dudes. The only problem I have with the game world is that certain areas (especially the maintenance/labs area) have really predictable enemy spawns, which makes the world feel a lot less ‘real’ than it might otherwise.

Basically, I like the game. I like it a lot. I like it better than every game that has come out so far in 2017. It’s right up there with Dishonored 2 (which I adored) for me. It’s engrossing, thrilling, and awesome.

With some better combat and enemy design/spawning, Prey would be as close to perfect as a game can get. If my opinions change significantly as I continue the experience, I’ll probably right a review. If I was the scoring type, it would be an easy 9/10 for me.

So, one last thing: the default settings are a bit strange.

Change mouse sensitivity to 50, turn off Damage Numbers, rebind ‘tab’ to inventory, and bind your mouse wheel to weapon changes. It’ll feel a lot better. It’s still kind of weird to navigate menus (you can’t use the scroll wheel to scroll down lists?), and for some reason, moving your mouse moves your ENTIRE CAMERA when reading computers (compare this with Doom 3′s more satisfying implementation of computer screens). Sometimes, clicking works, other times, you have to press F, and sometimes, you have to press G. It’s kind of strange. It makes sense to use G to, like, repair items in the world, but less sense to use G on a menu where it seems like F or Mouseclick will do. 

The game has a ton of these weird little UX issues that, if tweaked, would significantly improve the game. I wish they’d been caught prior to release, but I hope they get patched.

There’s no FOV slider, but that should be coming soon. For some reason, the intro videos are unskippable. You can’t click through them or anything. You can, however, turn them off by editing your game files.

I do have Extremely Negative Impressions about how the game’s been handled, though. You see, I like Prey. That’s the Real Prey, the 2006 FPS Prey. The one with Blue Oyster Cult and Art Bell. I liked that Prey a lot. If you install Prey 2017, and you have Prey installed, 2017 will be installed in Prey’s directory. It’s frustrating.

It’s also frustrating that the game is named Prey at all; did we really have to lose the original game on Steam for THIS? Did the sequel really get canned for us to play this? I can take Prey 2017 on its own merits, and it’s a great game, but the way Human Head was treated, and the way the original game is being treated leave a really bad taste in my mouth. I love Arkane. I love Bethesda. I don’t like how the whole “Prey” situation has been handled. They could have given this game so many names and avoided the problem entirely.

The Prey for the Gods Situation is really bad. Some Bethesda PR dude said somethin on GAF about “we have to protect our trademark,” but that appears to be untrue. Here’s CDPR talking about that very subject. So it seems like folks at Bethesda are being dishonest, and that really rubs me the wrong way.

It sucks that a game I’m loving right now is associated with so many negative things.

Overall, best game I’ve played since Dishonored 2, appeals to my personal sensibilities a lot more, I don’t really like the combat so I try to avoid it as much as possible, I love this world so dang much.

*I was in the hospital because of my illness.