tatya-time

[tatya-time]

Part 5 - So Above As Is Below

꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊❅.☃︎⋆⁺₊❅.⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆⋆꙳

Wayne did not awake in his comfortable chair as he had both times prior. This time, he was laying with his back upon the snow staring up at the night sky, cold seeping into his skin through his night clothes. 

“I know,” he said louder than he ought to, “that I am not alone, spectre. I have met your compatriots already. The ghosts of Christmas Past and Present. You are… What did Allen say? Ah yes. The Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come.”

With this, a skeletal hand appeared above him, half covered in dark cloth, pointing to something. 

⋆⁺₊❅.☃︎⋆⁺₊❅.

At this, Wayne stood up to look at whatever figure had arrived this time with so little theatrics. Above him was a ghost with long pink hair and a face which you could see the bone through. The ghost did not look at him either, only kept pointing at something in the distance, cloaked in black and emotionless. 

“You are,” Wayne said, “Rather quiet compared to your coworkers.”

The ghost did not reply.

Wayne stood up and brushed the snow off of himself with a sigh. “Well, lead on spirit.”

The ghost did not move. 

And so he looked to where the ghost was pointing and came to the striking realization that he had awoken in a graveyard. Snow covered carved stones around him as a chill began to overtake his spine. 

“Why are we here, spirit?” Wayne whispered, “This is… The future, yes?”

The ghost still pointed silently.

“Then, I have a guess.” He began to slowly walk in the direction the ghost pointed, the spectre following close behind and slowly lowering their hand. 

⋆⁺₊❅.☃︎⋆⁺₊❅.

As they drew closer they came upon a grave. A rather paltry one. In front of a wooden slat was Alden, holding a small patchwork doll that was much worse than the one his daughter had made. 

“I… I tried to make one you would like, kiddo. I’m not the best with the needle. Too clumsy.”

Wayne stared as he walked closer and the ghost followed close behind. He did not say anything as his mouth hung ever so slightly open and his brows clenched together. 

Alden continued, tears beginning to stream down his face, “But your mom… Your mom is beside herself right now. And I wanted to make sure you had a good Christmas present… Merry Christmas, kiddo. I’m sorry that I couldn’t… That we…” He lowered his head to the wooden grave and cried. 

Wayne looked at the spectre. “The child? She died?”

The ghost only stared at him. 

“I knew… She was sick. But it could have been treated. It was expensive, sure, but… Alden could never have afforded it, but I could have… I didn’t do it… I should have. I could…”

There was so much to say and yet he was speechless. This child did not deserve death, indeed none did. Wayne’s heart ached in his chest and his own eyes began to tear up. 

The ghost showed no sign of a reaction and only pointed in another direction. 

⋆⁺₊❅.☃︎⋆⁺₊❅.

“What could be worse? What could you have to show me that would change me beyond this?” Wayne tried to ask, but the ghost was not moved. And so, he began to trudge in the direction of where the The Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come pointed.

A funeral. As he drew closer he saw two men lowering a coffin into a grave with drunken abandon as a priest read final rights. No one else was there.

“Poor bastard,” Wayne whispered. 

The men dropped the coffin carelessly on the final foot or so and the priest jumped, scolding them. 

“Father,” one of them said, “Good man. We are just helping him speed up his journey to Hell. Reaping. Sowing. You know how it is.” 

They both laughed and brushed off the dirt and snow as the priest finished the rights. 

“The nicest thing that man ever did,” the other man said, “Was die. How kind of him to make his last moments his best. How grand!”

The spectre moved closer as they all grabbed a shovel and Wayne watched in horror as they all withered away like dead leaves in winter, fluttering away in the wind. This left him standing there, alone, with the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come and whoever was in the coffin below.

“What an awful scene…” Wayne mumbled. “Who could deserve such a funeral?”

The ghost looked at him, bright red eyes sending fear up through his neck and into his face. The spectre pointed at the gravestone. 

“Ah, so you can hear me. I was wondering,” Wayne said as he turned to look at whoever had been so hated in life to be treated with such disrespect in death. The words on his tongue grew to lead, though, as he saw the stone above the grave. 

‘WAYNE STRICKLAND’ was carved carelessly into the memorial before him.

“This was my funeral,” he whispered, “No one came… Though, who would. My only family… My niece I am unkind to. My workers, I don’t pay well. I have no friends or love. I am… Alone.” 

The ghost did not mock or comfort or say anything. Just lingered and watched. 

“Tell me, spectre. Is this future my destiny? Or can it be changed? Am I doomed to be unremembered, even scorned, in death as in life?”

No answer. Again. It was starting to grate on him. 

“If… If I am not to be saved, so be it. But the child can be saved. I have the ability to help her. I always did, I see that now, but I can go back to the present and I can begin to act! I understand I was wrong! Please!”

And the ghost was suddenly and quite terribly fast. Their hand shot out at Wayne’s neck and lifted him into the air as he struggled. 

“Please!” Was all he could say as he clawed at a hand that lacked flesh. 

The ghost looked at him, dead eyes.

And something changed.

The melted wicks upon their shoulders lit with fire and the sound of laughter, maniacal and familiar filled the air. A bell chimed four times. 

The ghost smiled. And dropped Wayne into the grave as all went dark. 

꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊❅.☃︎⋆⁺₊❅.⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆⋆꙳

[1 Character Unlocked!]

[tatya-time]

PART 4 - I LIKE LIFE

꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊❅.☃︎⋆⁺₊❅.⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆⋆꙳

Wayne awoke in his rocking chair once again, the clock still reading midnight. The fire was even still glowing with soft embers as if no time had passed at all and indeed, maybe it had not. 

“These dreams,” he said to himself, though he was uncertain that they were such, “Are far too much for me.”

⋆⁺₊❅.☃︎⋆⁺₊❅.

A loud laugh sounded from his kitchen, one that sounded high and sweet and feminine, like a chiming bell. All of the hairs on the back of Wayne’s neck stood up as he looked towards the door that led to said room, where a bright warm glow was radiating from under the wood. He had not left the lights on, he knew this, and none of his lights were so bright.

With a great, shaky sigh, he stood up and slowly began towards the door. The sound of laughter continued, as did the sound of clinking glasses and pouring wine. The doorknob was warm as he turned it, as if someone had held it just before him. 

And when he entered his kitchen, his jaw dropped.

There were piles of cakes and pastries in the center of it all. Frosting, sugar, berries, all of it in a gargantuan pile in the center of the room in the shape of a throne. Upon this throne, sat a woman in heaps of luxurious green and red velvet. Her whole ensemble was dripping with embroidery and furs and holly and upon her head sat a crown of candles, that reminded him of the ghost he had seen only a few moments prior. 

She was holding a golden goblet and pouring a very generous helping for herself when he stumbled in. “Oh! Wayne, dear! Hello there! Hello! Merry Christmas, darling! Merry Christmas, babes!”

He stared up at this figure in shock. 

“Oh close your jaw. You’ll get wrinkles. At least, you’ll get even more,” the woman laughed, “You knew I was coming, didn’t you? Dear Allen warned you. And the Ghost of Christmas Past was already here! Would you like a drink? Maybe a little snack?”

“Who are you?”

With the grace of a dancer, the spectre crawled down from her throne and stood before the old man with a grin. With great horror he realized that she was incredibly tall, about ten feet or so. Her wine glass was about the size of his head. 

She said, “I am the Ghost of Christmas present. I’m here to show you the good times you are missing out on by being such a--”

“Please, spectre. You’re compatriot could not change my mind and neither will you. Leave my home and let me be.”

The ghost still smiled and shook her head, “My dear friend simply laid the groundwork so I could build on it a bit, ya know? Don’t act like you aren’t a little spooked.”

“Leave me be, spirit. I beg of you.”

The ghost waggled her finger. “Ah ah ah! I am here to help you learn the joys of Christmas! And understand the joys you have been denying other people! By the time I’m through with you, you will be loving life! Or at least liking it… Or at least not making everyone around you hate being alive, you know?”

⋆⁺₊❅.☃︎⋆⁺₊❅.

Before Wayne could respond to such a sentiment, the ghost reached into her goblet and threw her hand in the air, causing a rain of glitter to fall down upon the pair like snow. He tried to bat the sparkles away, sneezing and coughing a bit, but when he opened his eyes he was, once again, somewhere new. 

He was at some sort of gathering with many people in their best attire. A lovely woman played piano in the corner of the room, some sort of holiday song while everyone danced and laughed and drank. Everyone smiled. 

“Where am I now, spectre?” he paused, “Or, I suppose you cannot tell me, like the last ghost.”

“Oh I know! I always know where the party is, silly! Look around! Look nice and hard!”

Wayne huffed and looked around, only to startle at the sound of a glass being hit with a fork. At the center of the ballroom stood his niece. She held up the wine glass with a smile and everyone in the room paused their merriment to look at her. 

“Hello, my dear friends! I will leave you to your dancing and drinking in just a moment, but first! I would like to make a toast.”

The entirety of the room raised their glasses as well as she delicately cleared her throat.

“To Christmas! To the darkest of times being over soon! To friends and family! And to my Uncle Wayne, who could not make it to today’s feast.”

At the mention of Wayne multiple glasses were put back on tables, no longer raised and multiple grumbles filled the room. The ghost cackled as she took one of the unattended glasses and took a drink for herself.

Therese took their disdain well, only chuckling lightly. “I know. I know. However, Wayne is my dear uncle. He is family! And Christmas is all about family.”

A partygoer, who Wayne did not recognize snorted and called out, “He’s a self righteous asshole.”

Wayne sneered at them, even though they couldn’t see him. 

His niece put her hand to her heart and continued. “You must understand, my dear friends. My mother, bless her soul, left this world as I came into it on a Christmas night not too dissimilar to this one… Part of me wonders if that is why old Wayne is so cold. I want to believe that, maybe one day his heart will mend and I will be able to see what my mother saw in him.”

Wayne’s shoulders slumped. He had not given the girl the time of day, not in the many years since she had been born. She had always been nothing but a reminder of the dearest loved one he had lost. 

“She’s awfully nice to you,” the ghost said, “and you’re not so nice to her. Imagine what May would say…”

“I… may have been unfair to Therese. I understand this, at the very least.”

The ghost clapped her hands and laughed. “Oh! Well isn’t that something! Let’s keep the good times rolling then, yeah? To another party!” She reached into the punch bowl and pulled out yet another hand of sparkling green glitter that covered the world in light. 

⋆⁺₊❅.☃︎⋆⁺₊❅.

When the last of the magic had rained down onto the ground, Wayne found himself standing in a much, much smaller room. It reminded him of his childhood home, barely livable, yet extremely lived in. 

In the center of the hovel stood two figures, a small girl (who was chiefly focused on sewing some sort of toy) and Alden. 

The little girl had long blonde hair and a sweet smile. She seemed to favor one leg over the other, but did not bother using a crutch as she sat. 

“Aw,” said the ghost, who was now much smaller so as to fit into such a small room, “Cute kid.”

“I… I did not know Alden had a child.”

“Have you ever asked?”

“...No.” Wayne admitted. Neither did he know that his employee was living in such conditions. Sure, the old man had often docked Alden’s pay for menial things, but it would have been enough for any man to live.

“Almost done with the goose!” Alden called out to his daughter and laughed, “It looks a bit… Alien, but I think it will do! I had to get a really skinny one if we were going to afford a goose this year but I don’t hate it! It’ll be enough food for the three of us!”

“I’m sure it will be great, father,” the girl said as she held up her stuffed doll. “Yes! I fixed him!” “Look at you, kiddo! Before you know it, you’ll be the world’s best sewer!”

“Do you mean seamstress, father?”

“Yes! That’s the word!” He laughed as he pulled out the goose from the stone oven. It looked perhaps a little burnt, and it was indeed a very skinny goose. Wayne cringed at the memories of living in such a manner.

The ghost leaned on his shoulder and shook her head. “Don’t turn up your nose now, rich boy. That was you once upon a time.”

“That is why I disdain it.”

“You pay him. You’re the reason he lives like this.” The ghost studied her nails and drank from her goblet. 

He turned to her with a scrunched nose. “If he wastes his money on menial things, that is a commentary on his character not mine.”

“Menial things?” The ghost raised her eyebrow. “Do you see any trinkets or baubles throughout this house? Finery? Rugs? Drapes? Fine china? Hell, good vodka?”

Wayne looked about but could not find anything that did not seem to be made (and quite poorly at that) by hand. “He,” Wayne huffed, “is probably gambling it all away then, as my father did.”

“I don’t think so. Look harder.” She grabbed his face and forced him to look at the little girl, who was making her plush doll toddle about.

Her cheeks were oddly gaunt for someone so young and her eyes sagged a bit. She looked tired. Little hands, which were happy to play, were shaking with weakness and she hunched ever so slightly in her chair. 

She was ill. Gravely so.

“Poor child…” Wayne whispered.

“Medicine is expensive. They can only rarely get treatment and without the proper care,” the ghost shook her head, “She’s getting worse.”

As if hearing the grave prophecy the ghost whispered in the ear of the old man, the little girl began to cough. It was a dreadful cough, like she was drowning on land. Her father ran over to her side, his normally smiling face stricken with sudden panic as he held her. 

“Just… Just breathe, kiddo,” Alden whispered.

“She can’t, you fool,” Wayne said with despair dripping off of his words like condensation. He turned to the ghost in desperation and asked, “How long does she have, if she is not being treated?”

“I don’t know. The future is not my domain. I only know the present is grim. You are not without the power to make it better,” she crossed her arms.

He looked at the ground, shame finally beginning to grab hold in his soul. 

“Come,” said the ghost, “His wife will be home soon and she is not a fan of yours, no matter how much Alden defends you.”

“He defends me?” Wayne asked, incredulously as he followed her out into the snowy streets and the house disappeared behind them. 

Now, standing in a snowy street that lacked any houses, the ghost turned to him with calm eyes. “In the present, yes. I do not know if he will continue to do so in the future. That is not for me to know.”

He sighed and pushed his hair out of his face. “The girl is already sick. I cannot change my past actions, spectre.”

“You can change what you do from here on out, though,” she said as she reached up to pull a candle off of her crown. “You can make the present filled with joy and love. The present is yours Wayne. The future is yet to come. The past is unchangeable, but the present is where change happens. Remember this, silly mortal.”

She dropped the candle onto her robes, which immediately lit up into flames. Wayne stumbled back as fire engulfed her dress as she laughed. 

“Good luck, babes! Remember what I told you!” She began to dance about as the fire drew up higher and higher and licked her face as her eyes glowed gold with embers. “And Wayne dear! Good luck with the next spectre! Real doozy that one!”

Light filled Wayne’s eyes as she giggled and all went dark.

꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊❅.☃︎⋆⁺₊❅.⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆⋆꙳

[2 Characters Unlocked!]

[tatya-time]

PART 3 - A FLICKER OF THE PAST

꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊❅.☃︎⋆⁺₊❅.⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆⋆꙳

Wayne awoke in his old sitting chair by the fire with a great start. He laughed, “What a nightmare. Allen coming back from the dead? Hilarious.”

The old man looked at the grandfather clock and realized midnight was nigh and part of him, a very small and frightful part of him, looked about for some spectre. “Oh how silly,” he said, “I am such a fool.”

⋆⁺₊❅.☃︎⋆⁺₊❅.

He turned to the embers that were smoldering in the fireplace and stood up to begin to look for a log to stoke the flames again. As he walked towards the firepoker a single ember jumped up from the ashes and began to grow. It fluttered upwards and out into the room as it became unnaturally large. Wayne could not help but stare.

And from that ember a face began to form, as well as a neck, then shoulders. And soon, before Wayne stood a figure in all white and gold with holly around their lapel. A large candle snuffer sat on their head, which was wreathed in what could have been hair, but glowed a soft golden light just as it had when it was an ember. 

Wayne said, “I must still be dreaming.”

“You knew I was coming,” a voice echoed about the room, but the figure's mouth did not move. “I don’t know why you are acting so surprised.” They raised their eyebrows. 

He looked at them from his place by the fireplace. “You ought to leave.”

“No, I don’t think so. We don’t have time to argue, Wayne. Stand up and let’s go.”

“Who are you?”

“I am the Ghost of Christmas Past. I feel like that’s self explanatory.”

Wayne did not respond and the ghost huffed. At least, they looked like it, there was no sound.

They continued, “To understand how it ended up this way, we need to figure out how things were. All of the Christmases before, or at least the important ones. So, come on.” They gently stamped their foot upon the ground and great glowing roots began to crawl out of the floor and surround the two. Wayne tried to run, but he tripped upon the wood and fell. 

⋆⁺₊❅.☃︎⋆⁺₊❅.

He landed in soft snow. 

As he dusted the snow off of his eyelashes and sat up he recognized where he was and it was not, in fact, his living room. He was in front of his home, but not the grand home he lived in now. It was the one he grew up in when he was small. 

“What is this?” he asked the spectre, his face turning red in anger.

“It is not my past, Wayne. I wouldn’t know.” They replied calmly as they leaned upon the fragile wood of the house. “But I do like this place more than your current one. It’s more of a home. I wonder what makes this so much more comforting.”

Before Wayne could answer the front door swung open to see May Strickland. His little sister. Alive. Her cheeks were flushed from the cold and she was smiling brightly. Her clothes were covered in patches, barely held together but on her head was a new pair of earmuffs Wayne had managed to buy her with the money he had saved up. 

“Wayne!” she cried and began to run towards him.

He reached out to her, but she simply ran through him as if he were mist. 

The ghost shook their head. “They can’t see you. You can’t touch them, either.”

“I gathered that,” Wayne snapped. 

He turned to look at where his sister had run to and found himself. A younger, happier version of himself embracing his sister with a smile. His face had smudges of lamp oil and his hair was a mess, but he was so happy. 

“I got you a gift,” May said to his younger self.

“May, I told you--”

“No, please don’t worry! Look, I made it!”  She handed him a fabric doll. The stitching was weak and messy but young Wayne held it tightly to his chest.

“I love it, May. Merry Christmas.”

She laughed. “Merry Christmas.”

The Ghost of Christmas Past leaned over Wayne’s shoulder as he watched and once it was over, looked at him curiously. “She seems nice. And she likes Christmas. So did you, it seems.”

“She died,” Wayne sneered, “five years later. On Christmas day. Giving birth to my niece.”

The ghost nodded and stepped back. All was quiet for a moment as they looked at the figures laughing and fading in the distance. “There must be some Christmas you remember fondly. Let’s see…”

⋆⁺₊❅.☃︎⋆⁺₊❅.

And the roots began to grow up from the ground again. This time, Wayne’s head was not buried in the snow and he was able to watch as the wood covered the landscape like creeping vines, morphing and molding them into something new, releasing them when they were perfect. As the glowing roots receded, the pair were left standing in the middle of a party, a Christmas party with holly and drinks and fancy outfits. 

“Ohhhhh,” for the first time the spirit’s mouth moved upwards into a teasing smile, “interesting.”

Wayne looked around to see what they could possibly be referring to and froze as he saw himself, still much younger dancing. Within his arms was another young man with fluffy red hair and smiling green eyes. 

“Who is that?” the ghost whispered in his ear.

Wayne cleared his throat. “Um. Jamie. We were good friends.”

“Good friends. Sure.”

Jamie laughed as Wayne twirled him around and “accidentally” stumbled into the poor man's chest. “Oh goodness!” Jaime laughed. “Maybe I’ve had too much to drink!”

His younger self blushed and shook his head. “You haven’t had anything to drink at all.”

“Hmmmm. Interesting. Are you sure I don’t smell like alcohol?”

“Not at all.”

“Really?” Jaime leaned in until they were nose to nose and whispered, “Are you sure?”

A cackle surrounded them as the spectre laughed, “Friends! Really good ones, I bet!”

Wayne sighed. “We were… Something more, yes. But it didn’t last.”

“Why?”

Wayne did not respond and the ghost, seeing an opportunity, covered the world in roots again as the scene changed into that of an office. Allen sat not far from a younger Wayne, counting coins and laughing. 

“My good friend,” he laughed, “what an excellent Christmas Eve this has turned out to be.”

Wayne watched as his younger self nodded politely, despite the heavy bags under his eyes. “Yes, sir.”

The older Strickland turned to the ghost and whispered, as if he could be heard, “This was before Allen decided to make me a business partner. He had me working like a dog.”

“Clearly. Christmas Eve? Wouldn’t that time be better spent with… Jaime?” The ghost mused as they looked at the clock, where evening was promptly displayed in number form. 

As if summoned by his name, the red head entered the store. His soft eyes were pulled down in defeat, which Wayne had not remembered. He had, apparently, been too busy looking at the calculations on the paper in front of him to notice. 

“Wayne, dear,” Jaime said, “ it’s getting late.”

“Sorry, I’m busy.”

Allen looked up and pursed his lips to avoid smiling. “I will leave you two alone. Enjoy lovebirds!”

Jaime only stepped closer to his love. “I brought mistletoe,” he tried, “you know what that means.”

“I’ll be with you in a moment.”

“Stop saying that. Stop pushing me away, Wayne. Please. We haven’t talked in so long. It’s Christmas Eve. We should be drinking cocoa or making snowmen.”

The young Wayne looked up at him and said, “We aren’t children anymore, Jaime. Please, I have work to do.”

The old man felt his heart wither. He had not remembered being so cruel and he looked at the spectre for some kind hint that maybe this was all a trick. That he had not said these things. But he knew it to be so. 

Jaime tried one last time. “But I love Christmas,” he said quietly.

“We may celebrate next year.”

The ghost cringed and looked at the old man with disappointment. “Even if you hated Christmas, he didn’t. That wasn’t…”

“But I didn’t hate Christmas. Not then at least. I just wanted to have enough money to be worthy of him. We couldn’t live a life of poverty. I had lived a life like that and it is painful, spectre. I could not subject him to that.”

“And yet subjected him to loneliness instead?”

Wayne had nothing to say as he watched Jaime turn his back on his younger self and walk towards Allen’s desk and drop a ring upon it. 

The ghost raised an eyebrow “A ring? You were engaged?!”

“No! No… He was going to propose. He left it with my paycheck and I didn’t find out until the end of the day…”

“Brutal.” The ghost said as they reached down and picked up what seemed to be a sort of bow out of nowhere. It glowed orange and yellow and red, just like the sun. Just like the ghost. And as an arrow appeared in the ghost's hand they looked sharply at Wayne. 

“What are you doing?” he said.

They smiled. “You have seen the past. My role here is done.” As quick as lightning they fired off a shot into Wayne’s foot.

He cried out as red hot pain filled his leg. 

“Yes. The past can hurt. I understand. But you must learn from it.” Another arrow into the other foot.

“What are you doing?” He cried out.

They knocked their final arrow and leveled it between Wayne’s eyes and smiled. “Now you must see the present. Say hi for me.”

꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊❅.☃︎⋆⁺₊❅.⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆⋆꙳

⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆

And now, a quick word from Emma!

A/N: Howdy Hey! Half way through! I’m not entirely in love with the ~rhythm~ of this piece this time put I can deal. Please enjoy and see you next time with some Tatya funsies!!!

⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩��❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆ [2 Characters Unlocked!]

[tatya-time]

PART 2 - GHOSTLY ADVICE

꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊❅.☃︎⋆⁺₊❅.⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆⋆꙳

After his long day of work, Wayne went home to his large house, where he lived very much alone. He sat by his fire with tea and brandy, a good book in his lap that he wasn’t bothering to read. 

“Christmas…” he muttered. “Enough of that…”

And the room fell cold. The old man looked over to his fire to see it still roaring, yet now wreathed in frost. He rubbed his eyes in confusion and when he opened them again, the ice was gone. 

“I must have had too much brandy,” he said as he stood up slowly to tend to the fire. His old bones shivered as he walked. The fire seemed to offer no warmth as he grabbed the poker and leaned over it. 

⋆⁺₊❅.☃︎⋆⁺₊❅.

Suddenly, the flames grew immensely. 

They engulfed the entirety of the fireplace, licking the sides of the wall. Wayne stumbled backwards and fell onto his back as he tried to scramble away. The flames only grew higher and the sound of rattling chains filled the room. 

“Wayne,” a ghostly voice called, “Wayne Strickland.”

“Who is there?!” He looked around the room, which was now freezing cold despite the raging fire. 

The sound of metal upon metal grew louder. “Wayne. Wayne Strickland.”

“Please! Leave me alone! I have done nothing!” He got to his knees to beg at whatever force was calling to him. 

And despite the fire's presence the corners of the room began to be engulfed in frost. The chandelier. The door. His cup of brandy. They all had fractals of ice covering them like lace.

And from the flames, a face emerged. Bright gold eyes like coins stared at Wayne with malice and regret. Connected to the face was a neck and then shoulders and then arms that were clawing out onto the floor.

And the figure was terribly familiar. 

“Allen,” Wayne whispered, “Oh god. You’re dead. You are supposed to be dead.”

“I am!” the ghost cried out. “Oh, great death did come for me with shadowed eyes and cold hands! I am long dead! Long dead!” The chains scraped against the floor as Allen swung his arms outwards.

Death had made the man no less dramatic. 

Wayne cried out, “I must be dreaming!”

“Do not be a fool, Strickland! I have risen out of my cold suffering with the blessing of the beyond to warn you, old friend! Your heart is cold and shriveled and weak! It is chained like I am now!” The ghost pulled on the chains around him but they did not budge. 

“Please, spirit! Allen Crowell! My friend! Leave me be! I have done no wrong!”

“You lie! Oh! How you lie!” The spirit flung himself towards Wayne as he groaned. “You have grown greedy and cruel and forgotten the true spirit of Christmas!”

Wayne paused before a moment as he stared up at the deathly visage of his long dead friend. “Ah… I must be dreaming! That’s what it is. The brandy must have given me the strangest of dreams…”

“You fool!” Allen cried out. “I have come from the cold embrace of death to help you, so that you might have a chance and I may be freed of just a few of these horrible chains! Oh these chains! Each weigh as much as my sins in life! They are so terribly heavy, Wayne!”

But, Wayne, despite being terribly frightened, had already decided that it was all just a nightmare.  He stood up and began to walk away, but was quickly wrapped up in icy metal. 

Allen floated closer so that he may loom over the old man. His gold eyes like two furious and wicked suns beating down upon the weary. “Tonight, dear friend. You will be visited by three spectres. The ghosts of Christmas past, present, and yet to come will arrive in all their glory and show you the truth! Your truth! And should you not see the error of your ways before the light of Christmas Day, beware! You will end up in the cold grip of iron in death, just as I did.”

And a great flurry filled the room and Wayne cried out in fear. 

“The first ghost,” Allen continued, “Will appear to you upon the first stroke of midnight… Be ready, old friend…”

꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊❅.☃︎⋆⁺₊❅.⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆⋆꙳

[Character Unlocked!]

[tatya-time]

Tea Time Holidays - Christmas Carol Collab

A fuzzy feeling fills the air as that festive time of year once again comes around. From the harmonious noise of carols echoing down the street, to the ever so sweet tastes of handmade goodie, not to mention the joy of finding the perfect gift for a friend! Oh! Its all too hard not to get caught up into the merriment of it all, isn't it?

But oh? What's this?

It seems someone isn't as thrilled to be apart of such activities this year... ⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆

-Collab Details-

Hello!! Happy Holidays everyone! Its crazy to think that soon this is gonna be the second Christmas this blog has seen. Time flies by so quickly, doesn't it? It makes me feel so reminicant and happy.

Anyways, this essance is a little special in comparison to the other 2 I have made. Why? Well, this one will have a fully written retelling of a Christmas Carol made for it done by the lovely @littlegloriosa! Thats right - a silly holiday fic featuring some of your favorite goobers!

The upload schedule will be twice per week after this post goes live! So keep an eye out for installments in the story under the following tag:

#AVeryIDVChristmas

⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆

-Costume/Character List-

"Scrooge" - { Wayne Strickland / @manor-tea-time }

⋆⁺₊❅.☃︎⋆⁺₊❅.

Mr Cratchit - { Alden West / @ask-idv-astronaut }

[Locked - Wait Till Story Progresses!}

⋆⁺₊❅.☃︎⋆⁺₊❅.

"Tiny Tim" - { Memory / Just IDV in general Lmao }

[Locked - Wait Till Story Progresses!}

⋆⁺₊❅.☃︎⋆⁺₊❅.

"Jacob Marley" - { Allan Crowell / @bloody-trio }

[Locked - Wait Till Story Progresses!}

⋆⁺₊❅.☃︎⋆⁺₊❅.

The Ghost of Christmas Past - { Archer / @ask-archer-idv }

[Locked - Wait Till Story Progresses!}

⋆⁺₊❅.☃︎⋆⁺₊❅.

The Ghost of Christmas Present - { Tatya Baudelair / @tatya-time }

[Locked - Wait Till Story Progresses!}

⋆⁺₊❅.☃︎⋆⁺₊❅.

The Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come - { Kanat / @friedclownshrimp }

[Locked - Wait Till Story Progresses!}

⋆⁺₊❅.☃︎⋆⁺₊❅.

Festive Niece - { Therese Bernadotte / @ask-the-identity-5-senses }

[Locked - Wait Till Story Progresses!}

⋆⁺₊❅.☃︎⋆⁺₊❅.

Past Love - { Jamie / @manor-tea-time }

[Locked - Wait Till Story Progresses!}

⋆⁺₊❅.☃︎⋆⁺₊❅.

Note: Character Art will unlock as the story progresses! If you volunteered a lad, and don't see finished art of them here, don't panic! They will be revealed at some point before the 24th.

If you wish to see them before hand though, feel welcome to ask for their sheets via DMs or Anon :] ⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆

And now some words from Emma! Take it away pookums!

AHEM!!!! I write stuff. Please enjoy. :3

"Christmas is approaching, but Wayne isn’t feeling it. Everything is ba humbug! Unfortunately everyone around him loves the holidays. It would take a miracle to get him on the same page, though. Or maybe a few friendly ghosts…"

⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆

[tatya-time]

SHE SLAYYYYYSSSSSS SHE SLAYYYYYSSSS

Some more of constellation silliness

Wayne > Watcher of lost time ( @manor-tea-time )

Tatya > Watcher of dark forests. ( @tatya-time )

[tatya-time]

What would your Oc(s) smell like? (not perfume, like general smells)

You know those like. Glitter powders that people used to put ALL OVER their body? They smelled kinda sweet but mostly just kinda like baby powder? That.

There's also obviously some vague smell of alcohol. Maybe some sweat if it's a match day. Hairspray and heat protectant. Her perfume changes daily, too.

Just a general feminine sweet smell, honestly. Lot's of products going on.

[tatya-time]

Tatya nods as her lips flatten. “I did! I did! It was awful, really. Well…. Actually wasn’t really that bad. I don’t even remember the process I just woke up as a ghost like. Like them!” She pointed behind Delilah at the gaggle of dead friends floating around.

She shook her head hard enough to make her metal beads jingle. “But the manor is the manor and after awhile I wake up just fine. I mean, mostly fine. I think I got put back in wrong. I feel tingly sometimes and I everything looks weird.”

And she can see ghosts but at this point it’s a given.

“I just wanna find the dickhead that did it at this point ya know?” She looks at the specters. “Though, I guess revenge for your death isn’t really a common luxury.” She takes a long sip of her drink.

“Tatya! You’ll never believe what I was able to find!” A few excited knocks echo on the GoGo Dancer’s Door as the Glass Artist’s voice cheers on. “Not only are they absolutely gorgeous bottles, but I think one has some champagne left inside of it! I wanted to know if you’d like to split some with me.”

-Ⴑ(��❁◡❁’)Ⴑ

((@manor-tea-time hehehehehe >:3

“That’s great!” Tatya laughs as she turns around. “I’ve been itching for a good drink. Honestly I’ve been avoiding drinking ever since I died last time I got drunk-….”

She looks over Delilah’s shoulder and stares. “Oh. Hi.”

[tatya-time]

“Tatya! You’ll never believe what I was able to find!” A few excited knocks echo on the GoGo Dancer’s Door as the Glass Artist’s voice cheers on. “Not only are they absolutely gorgeous bottles, but I think one has some champagne left inside of it! I wanted to know if you’d like to split some with me.”

-Ⴑ(‘❁◡❁’)Ⴑ

((@manor-tea-time hehehehehe >:3

“That’s great!” Tatya laughs as she turns around. “I’ve been itching for a good drink. Honestly I’ve been avoiding drinking ever since I died last time I got drunk-….”

She looks over Delilah’s shoulder and stares. “Oh. Hi.”

[tatya-time]

GUESSSSS WHO GOT THE JOBBBBBBB!!!!!!

Having my first interview for a job a really want today. MANIFEST FOR ME.

[tatya-time]

It's summer!

As a busy busy lady I probably won't be able to rp much but I am gonna start RPing a little bit more again! I can't be as fully active but if you want to send Tatya some stuff I will probably answer it!!!

[tatya-time]

Sands Of Time Finale: Withered Leaves

CW/TW: Zombie esque plant gore within the character info of the post. While there is no blood present, it is still a bit gnarly. Be careful!

As the leaves crisp into the fall, slowly fading away into the winter, a sad loneliness can be found upon the now empty treetops that they resided upon. Alas, we must wait till spring to see the blooming buds and leaves return once more upon these trees.

However, that does leave the question, dear detectives, what if we could speed up this process? What could happen if one had found a way to catch the final grains of sand within the hourglass before they were even able to drop?

Perhaps that is something that only our newest hunter, The Scavenger can enlighten us upon within the grand finale of the Sands of Time Trilogy.

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

-Collab Details-

Hello! This part of the event came out a lot later than I originally planned, but later is better than never, right? Anyways, now is a good time as ever to reveal some secret collabs! :D

@thisbirch (Our lovely event artist), Emma ( @tatya-time), and ZM ( @ask-idv-astronaut) have all been helping me both behind the scenes and on their blogs to build up the previous Bloom Event! (as dubbed by Emma). Not only do I want to give them a special thanks for letting me beat up their Ocs for the general plot, but also for their overall good vibes and patience throughout the process! It was slow-moving to get everything properly finished up.

Additionally, for my fellow muns out there, remember those funny packages your muses may have gotten containing bread, flowers and a lil note? Teehehehehehehe that was lil ol me! I appreciate you guys putting up with those (especially cause they were written at like… 1 am 😭)

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

-General Event Info-

This event is a continuation of both the Bloom Event and The Sands of Time event. As the situation has calmed down and both Tatya and Alden have been given time to recover, an eerie aura has taken over the manor as mysterious vines and plants have sprouted around it! The Scavenger is still determined to keep their word of a reunion. Even more so as Nerium is still hungry.

This is where you guys hop in! Depending on how you interact with The Scavenger, you guys have the opportunity to unlock 1 of 2 endings for the grand finale. One good. One Bad. So be careful and use the tools I've given you wisely!

Additional Important Info:

-The Scavenger is a temporary character. After the period of this event (about a month or two), he will be leaving the blog for an unknown amount of time. He will still most likely be referenced via other characters though.

-Delilah's Paranormal Parlor is still open alongside this event/will close with it for the sake of allowing you guys to get more clues. I'll even say that a certain "Guiding Hand" would know a bit about our new hunter friend ;3

-The style of the event's end will be similar to Pip's Night Adventure, but most likely with fewer options (but longer writing bits).

-Considering the time past between the events, I do understand many of the bits of lore may not be super easy to access for new folks seeing this. So, just for simplicities sake for finding things/catching up, most posts retaining to this event's lore should be under #Withered Leaves (SoT Finale) or #Bloom Event (depending on the blog).

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

General Character Info ζຽ|◍ ゝ◍|ຽ <🌿:

─────✧･ﾟ: ✧･

𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚕

⇢ ғᴜʟʟ ɴᴀᴍᴇ: Oleander Eldrich (Jr.)

⇢ ɴɪᴄᴋɴᴀᴍᴇs: The Scavenger, Oli

⇢ ɢᴇɴᴅᴇʀ|ᴘʀᴏɴᴏᴜɴs: He/They

⇢ ᴀɢᴇ: 27

⇢ ᴏᴄᴄᴜᴘᴀᴛɪᴏɴ: Forest Park Manager

─────✧･ﾟ: ✧･

⇢  ʟɪᴋᴇs:

-Botany / Phytotoxicology

-Calligraphy

-Small Collections

⇢  ᴅɪsʟɪᴋᴇs:

-Large Messes

-Jingling sounds

─────✧･ﾟ: ✧･

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

[tatya-time]

HEY BESTIE 🍹 I AM IN FACT ALIVE!!!

“Such a bubbly and lovable personality you have, young Lady! I can see just how you managed to capture the hearts of many, I may be one of them in that case ^^!”

//OMG YA ALIVE! HIIIII BESTIE~

[tatya-time]

BESTIE I MAY BE ON HIATUS BUT THIS IS SO CUTE

// Imma make multiple parts of meme photos that represent my OCs' relationship with other OCs like what the anon requested me to-/ih

Special Mentions// @idv-artists-trio , @idv-intellectuals , @idv-askchaoticduo ,@idv-ask-the-showman , @idv-thespians , @idv-ask-the-unknown , @voidproject , @hypnotic-melody , @experimental-blueprints , @the-oletus-parlor (Part 1)

[tatya-time]

(I'm so sorry, please just delete that ask)

Hey sweetheart! I’m on hiatus, so it was gonna take awhile anyway, but since you asked I will! I recommend next time leaving an OOC note at the end of your RP to let someone know that it’s coming from a character. Have a good day!

[tatya-time]

Sorry for me absence, I’ve been having to set up stuff for my classes :3 in return have the WIp of the Tatya nendroid (thank you Al 💚)

[tatya-time]

Tatya laughs. “Oh hush, quit being modest!” She notes the vintage Sillhouette and gums a little to herself.

“A singer! That’s lovely. So many performers in the manor. I guess it’s just a magnet for unique folks.”

Hattie approaches Tatya with a smile. "I've seen you around and I just have to say, your outfit is just gorgeous. I'm guessing you're a performer of some kind, right?" (@ask-the-idv-jazz-singer )

Tatya smiles and gives a quick wave to the singer. "Oh! Oh hello! Yes! Thank you! I like your outfit, too! I am a performer, a dancer of sorts. Are you a performer, then?"