Geico gecko commercials tap dance shoes

I love reading classic literature, specifically works from the 19th century, so I wanted to write a fan work for this game with that feeling:
“You are quite ridiculous!” came the vivacious and teasing voice of one student passing by the open window. This declaration was answered by the distinct and familiar laughter of another, carried on the autumn wind and drenched in the odor of decaying foliage and the promise of rain.
From his seat in the west wing of the library, parchment and tomes stacked beside him, Ominis Gaunt followed the sound until it vanished completely beyond the courtyard, sensations of uneasy feeling coloring his neck and ears. After a pause, he regained his senses. He shook his head, as if banishing the regretful thought that had then stolen into his mind.
“Why does he keep volunteering himself on her behalf?” He whispered, thinking of the owner of that feminine voice – a new fifth-year student at Hogwarts - an anomaly on its own merit - who had, in half the time succeeding her arrival, attained the magnetic affections of his oldest friend, Sebastian Sallow. “Of course - it’s because she’s new and decidedly beautiful.” Ominis told himself, merely speculating on the state of her physiognomy by the lilting cadence of her voice and the faint wisps of form his wand could communicate to him at a distance. Being blind since birth, he, out of necessity, had developed a magical ‘seeing eye' with the ebony tool he now pressed between his right forefinger and the book in his lap.
He hadn’t dared approach her directly when she’d first entered the Slytherin common room a month prior, for a frenzy of students had erupted around her the moment she’d set foot in it. From there, rumors spread like bees pollinating a garden after a long and depressing winter:
“The new girl had a ministry escort!”
“She was attacked by a dragon!”
“No, she rode the dragon!”
“Supposedly she was a squib before…”
“That can’t be - I heard she's a transfer student and can speak seven languages!”
“That’s a cover - her real secret was that she was privately tutored and has rare and explosively dangerous magic!”
These accounts became increasingly absurd because no one truly knew anything for certain, thus making everything possible. The girl herself was peculiarly private but charmingly polite - a combination that instantly made any would-be-pryer retreat into stuttering awkwardness. They did at the very least glean her name, which quickly became the subject of their fantastical speculations: Mélisande Clarusia Warwick.
From within his pocket, Ominis retrieved the note Sebastian’s owl had delivered him that day:
“Ominis,
Apologies for the abrupt change of plans, but our anticipated study session this afternoon must be postponed. Professor Weasley has graciously requested I accompany ‘MC’ to Hogsmeade for the replenishment of her class supplies, a task I’m sure you know I could hardly decline, given my inclination towards gentlemanly conduct. Incidentally, I cannot help but suspect Mel’s humble dismissal of her exceptional dueling prowess belies a deliberate modesty; there is undoubtedly more to her than meets the eye.
Regardless, I’ll make it up to you! If I’m not in the common room by nightfall, you know where to find me.
Sebastian.”
It did not escape Ominis’s notice that Sebastian, after weathering defeat by her in a duel during their first Defense Against the Dark Arts class together, had taken personal interest in MC and even dubbed her as such - among other names - needling her about the verbose nature of her formal title. Further, it was uncharacteristic of Sebastian to cancel a study session, seeing as he typically made any excuse to visit the library on behalf of research for his ill sister, Anne… nevermind the fact that Ominis could not recall any instance in recent memory where Sebastian had canceled on him, specifically.
After a moment’s hesitation, he refined the creases on the letter and tucked it back into the pocket of his waistcoat. He swallowed, brows furrowing and found that he no longer cared about the dancing plague of 1518 or the other contents of the book he’d since abandoned on his lap.
Sebastian did not come to dinner that evening. In customary fashion, Ominis found himself solitary - twiddling his fork on his plate - his company forsaken even by his housemates, who tended to cast upon him looks of cautious regard. They granted him a wide berth - huddling together three or four invisible student’s places apart from him. Through the soles of his shoes he felt the vibrations of doors slamming across the hall as students filtered out and the bench beneath him shifted when those occupying it left. The idle chatter of two teachers drifted across the cavernous room. Ominis sighed, folding a leaf of wax paper over a blueberry muffin.
“She was missing too…” he noted passively and wondered if he ought to have purloined a second muffin from the banquet table.
He held his wand aloft as he rose, a crimson bead of light fluttering like a heartbeat on its tip. The sensation of structures - rows of oak tables and benches - extended across the space before him. As he walked, he approximated the mass of these objects: how near they existed to his kneecaps, how firmly they were anchored to the floor - all actions thoughtlessly natural to him.
The passageway led from the Great Hall into the Viaduct Courtyard and a faint chill heralded that twilight had fallen upon the surrounding landscape. The tumult of student life had withdrawn for the night, taking with them a clamor of distracting noises and smells. Ominis meditated on the silence, finding solace in measuring the rhythm of his footfalls as he paced across the leaf-littered earth.
He imagined Sebastian with his freckled nose buried in a book in the Undercroft and smiled.
“It’s not the first time he’s worked through dinner,” he reminded himself. “Anne is lucky to have such a brother.” A pang of sadness worked dully at his chest following the mention of Anne’s name. Nothing had been quite like it was since before she’d fallen ill. “Even Sebastian’s laughter seems contrived these days.”
Suddenly a thunderous crack echoed across the hillside to his right, akin to a bolt of lightning striking a tree. Ominis jolted so forcefully that he nearly dropped the muffin in his left hand.
“W-what was that?” He gasped, his head swimming with adrenaline. The atmosphere reeked of burnt timber. Swiftly, he sought the protection of the cloister, his wand hand sweeping the clearing.
The path beneath his feet dropped into a series of stairs ending where the Black Lake licked the limestone and wooden boats rocked innocently in the building below. To the muggle, prepared to dismiss the absence of petrichor, this artificial thunderstroke might have signified a distant storm but Ominis knew well the vast and formidable traits of magic.
Someone was dashing up the stairs to his left - their feet tapping like raindrops on the hard surface. Ominis pressed himself plumb against the column and held his breath.
Her scent preceded her - like honeysuckle, mild and sweet. Following closely, the sound of her breath, quick and shallow, as though from a brisk sprint. The swish of her robes marked her entrance, swift and fleeting. In a moment, she vanished through the nearest castle door, oblivious to the presence of an onlooker.
Ominis found himself immobilized by his perplexity. He had, he was sure, sensed some great surge of energy, unlike any he had previously encountered, as she glided past him. An enigmatic metallic tang lingered on her garments, its quality imprinted on his senses. As he reviewed the day’s - no - the month’s occurrences and considered Sebastian’s recent preoccupation, a daring notion began to take root in his mind:
The new girl was forging a novel strain of magic.

Please share your most memorable exit situations....... I'm looking forward to good one
I had a friend that worked in a medical facility and they had electrodes that could stick to the bottom of your shoes, she tapped danced her way out of there one day...

Just came back a few days ago from a 3 week trip to Japan. Here was my experience:
To preface:

• I'm Canadian, Vietnamese, gay man, solo traveller
• I like new experiences and eating food, but I am not one to seek out the best or hottest place to go or obsessively look for tips on social media
• I like shopping and fashion and love discovering brands I am unable to get in North America
• I've been to Vietnam and I understand the very complex socioeconomical discrimination between Asians and Southeast Asians, colorism and what is considered a "rich" Asian country and a "poor" or "jungle" Asian country. I will have a hot take on this later in my breakdown.

General overview:
Day 1-3: Tokyo - I landed right on Pride weekend! It was fantastic. I knew only 1 person in Tokyo and I had some friends randomly also in Tokyo the same time I was. We went out for a drag brunch, one of the first of its kind in Japan as it's still a very new concept for the country. Performers were great though. Went to the Shinjuku gay district and had a blast discovering all these cool bars all with different vibes. It's also a great place to meet locals, tourists and immigrants (not just immigrants from Western countries, but from other Asian countries like China, Vietnam, Korea etc. who now live in Japan). There was also a festival for Pride in Yoyogi park and it was crowded and fun. Great to see Tokyo really embracing Pride.
Day 4-10: Based myself in Osaka but went exploring with my Setouchi JR West Pass throughout the week I was in Osaka. Went to Hiroshima and Miyajima Island, Nagoya so I can make my way to Ghibli Park (not a part of JR West so I paid out of pocket for that), and went to Kyoto twice. Overall, I really liked Osaka. I love big cities that are lively and noisy. I don't mind the crowds when I am also shopping in the Dotonbori area. The best part was cutting my day short in Kyoto because I was feeling sick, and then discovering that there was an exclusive Sailor Moon Museum happening in Namba and deciding to get tickets for that. Best unplanned experience that was actually better than Ghibli Park. Also, shopped on Orange Street, one of the best places for fashion lovers. Osaka castle was great but the line up to get in the castle was way too long and the day was super hot. Got to a see a high school Kendo tournament going on though so that was a neat experience!
Day 11-12: Flew to Sapporo from Osaka. It was cold. Windy on the first day. Rainy on the second day. Overall, just cold. Not Canadian Winter cold, but I wish I had a warmer jacket cold. It was the few places that had cherry blossoms left. The Sapporo Beer Museum was really neat and I liked learning about the history of such an iconic brand.
Day 13-21: Back to Tokyo. I am a remote worker and my job doesn't care where I work so I took the opportunity to save some vacation days for a future trip, and just work remotely while exploring Tokyo and surrounding areas. Went to Mt. Fuji for a day and back, did not get to see the mountain as it was really rainy and foggy that day. Wento the lucky cat shrine and it was cute but also busy for such a small shrine thanks to TikTok. Went out to the gay bars two more times and had a blast and met some new people (locals and tourists) who I still keep in contact with on social media. Got a tattoo at one point - LOVE IT. The artist was amazing and so gentle, I hardly felt anything. Did some more shopping in Ginza, Shibuya, Shinjuku and my favourite place - Harajuku! Overall, I really enjoyed Tokyo and my Japan trip as this was my first time.
Time and weather:

• rainy for half of it, warm for the other half. Chilly in Sapporo.
• was in Sapporo and Tokyo for Golden Week. Not as crazy as everyone says it would be. It was much crazier leading up to Golden Week. Was still able to get reserved seats tickets at the station itself easily and no need to book in advanced online. Honestly, didn't even bother booking online as the website isn't very clear especially when you have a JR West pass already.

Getting around:

• Digital Suica card on my iPhone. Worked for everything. So easy to use and got me around everywhere including the Kansai region and Sapporo.
• Right when I got off the plane, I got on a Airport Limo bus which was so much easier. No need to know which station to get off from and they had space for all my luggage. Took me to a hotel stop that was 2 blocks away from my hotel. Honestly, after a 9 hour flight, a limo bus is worth the $25 instead of the train and subway.
• Subways became easy to use and once you get to used to them, Osaka and Sapporo was easy to navigate as it was similar to Tokyo's subway.
• If you have a JR pass, pay attention to if you can use it on the local JR lines. Typically, you can. I forgot, and I tapped my Suica to enter a JR local line in Hiroshima, then I realized I could use my JR pass, so I stuck my pass in the machine and it let me through. But because I never tapped my Suica to leave the JR line in Hiroshima, my Suica card stopped working for train stations because it thinks I'm still on a trip in Hiroshima. Had to go to a subway guard (the ones in the booth next to the station gates where you tap your Suica), told them what happend using Google Translate and showed them my JR pass and they understood right away. They took my phone and put it on this scanner and it reset my Suica card. Very easy as if they've done this a million times before (they have).
• Used the convenience store and hotels to send my big luggage to my next hotel so I wouldn't have to deal with it on the train or train stations or flying with it when I flew from Osaka to Sapporo. Such a great service. Just bring your luggage to your hotel reception and tell them your next stop and when you want the luggage by. They will try to get it there the day you requested or the day after. Just be prepared to live out of your carry on for 1 or 2 days. If your hotel doesn't offer it, any 7-11, Family Mart or Lawson offers it. Lawson uses Japan Postal, 7-11 and Family Mart uses Yamato. I also sent my luggage to the airport before I had to leave Japan and it was a breeze. But be warned, for any transfer to an airport, it has to be 2 days before your departure flight or it won't make it on time.

Eating:
As much as I loved having a list of some places to eat at, I abandoned it and didn't really care anymore. From high-end restaurants, cafes, local places and even fast-food, everything was delicious. I stopped caring about where I ate, and just took a walk down any street and when I saw a menu I liked, I just went in. Honestly, even Denny's in Japan was amazing (it's a different menu and not like Denny's in Canada).
Shopping experience:
Loved shopping in Japan. I brought one large suitcase that was empty, put a smaller suitcase inside of it and then had my backpack and carry on suitcase. The yen was weaker than CAD, plus if you spend over 5,500 yen, and show them your passport, you'll get the tax off and some stores offer additional discounts for foreign passport holders.
Brands I bought:

• Onitsuka Tiger - best shoes ever. So stylish, comfy and very popular in Asia.
• Beams - they carry a variety of brands and their own brands.
• FR2 - great streetwear brand. They have different stores in different cities and exclusive pieces for that city.
• In Osaka, look for The Goodland Market on Orange Street. They carry brands that emphasize sustainability. Very laid-back and casual.
• Master-piece - great brand for bags.
• Saturdays NYC - this is an American brand but has a store in Tokyo. Loved the vibes. Very laid back.
• Rage Blue - easy styles with nice colours and cuts. Often had sales going on. Has a variety of brands.
• United Arrows - great styles here too. You'll be coming back to your country so fashionable.

A personal view:
I really like Japan and I would go again, but now that I've experienced it, I now know what I like and don't like. As much as everyone raves about Kyoto, I honestly didn't care for it. Inari shrine was great, the climb to the top was great exercise and most people give up not even halfway up so it gets less and less busy. I also like Nishiki market as I love street food in Vietnam so that type of vibe of just trying everything was a great experience. But honestly, Kyoto was a tourist trap (as with most places). Gion district was cute but you definitely won't find locals hanging there unless they work there. The street will be quiet for 10 minutes, then the next set of tour buses will come, 8 taxis will come and the whole experience walking through the street is kind of ruined. Also, it just felt a bit like...Disneyland. Everything was catered to tourists. I'm not someone who even seeks out places where locals are so you can meet locals as I don't really care that much if I meet a tourist or a local, if it happens it happens, but I'm not obsessed with it. But I somehow just got this feeling that Gion has been warped into a thing for tourists who are sold an "authentic, cultural experience". It reminds me of tourist traps in Vietnam, and maybe I only have this view because I've experienced Vietnam too. Perhaps a non-Asian tourist won't see this and to each their own of course. It didn't really help that there were signs saying don't take photos on private streets, and tourists would stand in front of those signs and start taking photos...
Another take is that the Japan that's shown to you on TV shows, dramas and the news is not the Japan you'll experience (unless you're always a part of a tour group). The media portrays Japan as a nation that is ONLY Japanese people, and that you will only meet Japanese people serving you and that despite a low birth rate, immigration is just not a thing in Japan. This is false. I can't count the number of times where I'll order food, have the cashier speak to me in English and Japanese (because I don't know Japanese), sit down and then hear the cashier and other staff speak Vietnamese. It dawned on me that pretty much all the food service staff were Vietnamese in Osaka and Tokyo. Probably more in other areas if I paid attention more. I started speaking Vietnamese back to them and they were surprised that I knew they were Viet. We made some pleasant conversation and for the most part they liked that someone acknowledged that they were Vietnamese. However, one time, one girl told me not to speak Viet to her or she'll get in trouble. The staff are allowed to speak Vietnamese to each other but not to the customer because the boss didn't want people to know that they weren't being served by Japanese people. Some places were more obvious such as people from Nepal, India or Pakistan working there but spoke perfect Japanese. Some places clearly only hired Vietnamese people because they can pass as Japanese. This was more shocking to me than any culture shock I could have experienced as a Canadian.
I think there's a sense of Japan being a rich nation, aligned with the US, that it's better than places like Vietnam. But after spending some time in both countries, I saw that even buildings were built in a similar way. Narrow staircases, no baseboards, sometimes low ceilings, and businesses stacked on top of each. I loved Japan and like I said, I would go again. But I think I would stick to just to Tokyo and Osaka next time. Both are also very touristy but not in a way that it's disguised as anything else. Osaka Dotonbori is a place to shop. People know that. It's extremely crowded, but you're there to shop, not for a cultural experience. If I were to go elsewhere, I would try Okinawa and maybe a rural experience too. But other than that, I'm someone who goes for the shopping and eating experience and the nightlife. I know some people might not agree with my take, as most subs about traveling to Japan always seem to be finding an authentic Japanese experience. But being able to realize that some people serving you aren't Japanese and that most experiences are waterdown and overpriced tourist experiences, you quickly realize that authentic Japanese experiences (as with any country popular with tourists) are hard to come by.
Edit: I replaced the term expat with immigrant for sensitivity.
Edit 2:
Just to provide more details on my experience that contrasts a lot of what you may find on Reddit.
Cleanliness:
Yes, parts of Tokyo and Japan itself is clean. But I have seen some parts of Toyko with garbage on the ground. Osaka is more obviously dirty if you want to put it that way. More garbage on the street, especially at night. My local friend told me that Japanese people are just good at hiding their litter and when they think no one is watching, they do litter.
Homelessness:
I saw homelessness. In Asakusa where my hotel was, there was one homeless lady on the main street near Don Quitos. I also some when you are walking to Shibuya Scramble Square. It's a big city, I'm sure homelessness is an issue there. I saw a TikTok while I was there about homeless runway children in the Shibuya and Shinjuku area.
Shyness/Attitude:
I was always told that many Japanese wouldn't really want to make small talk with you. But honestly it really depends. I had pink hair and had my nails done with a cute fun design on them. So many cashiers, retail people etc. wanted to compliment my nails and tell me how cute they were. Even leaving Japan, as I was going through security, the security lady complimented my nails as I was placing my liquids and computers in a bin. I also carried around a Sailor Moon tote bag I got from the museum and strangers on the street were stopping me to compliment it. I'm a man and I have my nails done, pink hair and a Sailor Moon tote bag. If you give them a reason to talk to you, they will.
Weak yen:
The best part about clubbing is going to the 7-11 near the gay district alleys, buying cheap alcohol, drinking it with your newly made friends, and then going back into the club to dance some more before doing it again 20 minutes later. Alcohol is so cheap there! 450 yen for a can of Jack Daniels and Coke...that's like $2-3 Canadian. We Canadians usually pay $6 or $8 for a can!
More on fashion:
I tried my best to avoid buying brands I could get in North America but sometimes the exchange rate and no tax was too good. Commes Des Garcon Play sneakers in Canada are $200 before tax. Found a design that isn't available in Canada, no tax and the conversion made them $160. Had to get them. Bought a Dior cardholder that's $480 before tax in Canada. No tax and converted price in Japan turned out to be $390. I say definitely look for the Japanese brands you can't get back home because you'll come back with more unique pieces (even if it's a popular, mass product in Japan) but also if you have your eye on designer pieces, chances are the piece is cheaper in Japan. The only thing I found that Hermes and Chanel were the same price or more expensive in Japan. But other brands like Gucci, Dior, Prada, Burberry and Louis Vuitton were cheaper.
Even Uniqlo is cheaper. The viral bag that people like is $25 in Canada. In Japan it's $13. There was a Golden Week sale that made the bags $8 each.
I did avoid some brands like A.P.C or Diesel (which is everywhere in Japan) because despite it being cheaper, I know when there's a sale on SSENSE it's even cheaper than what you could get in Japan.

Hi! May nakapagtake na ba rito ng tap dance as pe2? Kamusta yung requirements and experience ninyo? Required bang bumili ng tap shoes? If not, ano usually suot na shoes? Thank youu

I've always been bound to death.
On my eighth birthday, a shadow strode into my house and shot me and my family dead. I remember it vividly, every detail, every angle, etched and stained and carved into my memory.
I sat very still with my knees to my chest, my gaze glued to my siblings.
Lily and PJ looked like they were sleeping, and I could almost believe it.
I didn't look at the shadow.
From the comfort of my knees, I waited for my brother to lift his head.
But his body was so limp, so still, every part of him faltering. My sister’s head was nestled in his shoulder, thick beads of red running down her face.
They're just sleeping.
I could tell myself they were— as long as I didn't look at the splatter of scarlet staining the back of the couch and pooling at their feet.
BANG.
Mom’s body dropped onto the ground.
I lunged forwards, slamming my hands over my ears.
BANG.
PJ’s head slumped forwards, a teasing smile still frozen on his lips.
BANG.
Lily gently tipped into PJ, like she was going to sleep.
Before she closed her eyes, Mom told me to run.
I can't remember how long I stayed under the shattered remnants of Mom’s favorite table. The shadow was waiting for me to move, to make a noise.
I watched booted feet crunch through glass, getting closer and closer, and slowly, fight or flight began to take over.
Making it halfway across the living room, my palms slick with my mother’s blood, I thought I was going to live.
Cruel fingers wound their way through my hair and shoved me to my knees. I remember the phantom legs of a spider creeping down the back of my neck when the shadow with no face dragged the barrel of his gun down my spine.
“Turn around.”
The shadow had a voice.
When I didn't move, the protruding metal stabbed into my neck.
“Turn around, kid!”
I did, very slowly.
Behind him, my siblings still weren't moving.
They were asleep.
Lily was still smiling, strawberry blonde ringlets stained red.
I couldn't see PJ’S face anymore.
BANG.
I didn't feel the gunshot.
I didn't feel anything.
Looking down, I glimpsed slowly spreading red blossoming like a flower.
It felt like being cut from strings.
I hit the ground, just like my mother, my body felt heavy and wrong.
Paralysed.
I remember being unable to scream, unable to cry, the salty taste of metal filling my mouth. It was like being winded. Rolling onto my side, all I could see was flickering candlelight.
The air was thick, so hard to breathe.
I rolled onto my back trying to suck in air.
The shadow took a step back, opened the front door, and bled into the night.
I don't remember the pain, and I don't remember dying. I couldn't breathe, couldn't conjure words in my mouth.
I felt warm and sticky, lying in my own blood.
I think I tried to move.
But I was so tired.
I’m not sure what death feels like, because it's like going to sleep.
I remember my last shuddering breaths, a lulling darkness beginning to swallow me up. I don't know why I wasn't afraid.
Oblivion almost felt like I was sinking into lukewarm depths on a Summer’s day.
Oblivion wasn't pain, and there was a peaceful inevitability to it.
It was endless nothing, a nothing I found myself gravitating towards. But before I could envelope myself in that darkness, it was spitting me back out.
The next thing I knew, I was in a white room, a slow beeping sound tearing me from slumber. I had a vague memory of slow spreading roses blossoming across my shirt, like summer flowers blooming.
Everything was white.
The walls, the ceiling, and my clothes.
Sensation hit me in slow waves.
Exhaustion.
I felt it tightening its grip around my brain, dragging me back onto a mountain of pillows when I tried to jump up. My Aunt May was sitting next to me on a plastic chair, her warm fingers entangled in mine. Aunt May and Mom were practically twins, with the same thick red hair and pale skin.
Mom wore her hair in a casual ponytail, while May preferred a strict bun.
I had to bite back the urge to yank my hand away.
Aunt May was asleep, used tissues filling her lap.
There was a nurse pottering around, checking my vitals and prodding my arms. My eyes felt heavy. I had to blink several times to keep myself awake.
“Charlie?”
The nurse’s voice was like wind-chimes.
I pretended not to notice her forced lipstick smile, the way she stood with her arms folded, staring at me like I was one of my cousin’s experiments. “You were in an accident, sweetie,” the nurse spoke up. I could see her trembling hands. “Just, um, try and rest, okay?”
I wanted to ask where my family was, but I already knew the answer.
I think she knew that too.
“You died, Charlie.” The nurse’s voice was eerily cold. “You were dead for thirteen minutes.”
She took slow steps towards me, her eyes growing frenzied, like she couldn't understand me, like I was a puzzle she could not solve– and it was driving her crazy. I could see it in her twitching hands, her wobbling lips that were trying and failing to appear stoic.
“In fact, I just pulled you out of the morgue, honey. I opened up your body bag that I had just zipped up, and told your aunt that you were a miracle I just… can’t understand.” The nurse sounded like she was trying to choke down a laugh, or maybe a sob.
“Charlotte, you were pronounced dead at 3:02am from a gunshot wound to the chest.” Taking a slow, sobering breath, the nurse tried to smile. “The bullet went through the right ventricle of your heart and severely damaged your left lung, rendering you unable to breathe. Your heart stopped, and after four attempts to resuscitate, we called it.”
Something slimy wound its way up my throat when she began to pace the room. “I… did all the paperwork. It took me two minutes. Your death certificate was signed, and your body was taken to the morgue to be prepped for transportation. Then I had my lunch. Tuna salad with a protein milkshake. I’m not a fan of the chocolate flavor.”
She shook her head. “Anyway, when I came back to you, you were awake inside your body bag.” Her voice was starting to break. “You were…um, alive, and asked me for apple soda.”
The nurse moved closer, and yet kept her distance.
I could feel myself moving back, panic writhing through me.
“So.” The nurse spoke calmly. “How the fuck are you still alive, Charlie?”
I think I passed out after that.
When I woke up again, my head a lot less heavier, the nurse was gone.
Slowly, my foggy brain began to find itself and connect dots.
My mouth was dry, full of cotton.
There was a sudden tightness, a sharp and cruel sting in my wrists.
Something sharp was protruding into my flesh, and no matter how many times I violently wrenched my arm, it was stuck. It didn't feel right to be able to breathe so easily.
I knew the second I woke that my Mom was dead.
Lily and PJ were dead, and it was like losing them all over again.
As clarity came over me, I found my voice, a strangled cry escaping my lips.
“Get it out.” I whispered in a shrill cry.
Tugging at the IV in my wrist, I tried to yank the needle from my skin.
“Get it out!” I shrieked, my gaze glued to the tiny spots of blood staining the insertion point.
I could see it again.
So much blood.
Mom was curled up on the floor, lying in slow spreading red that wouldn't stop, seeping across her beaded rug.
She was all over me, slick on my skin and caked in my fingernails.
I couldn't wash her off of me.
“You're okay, Charlotte.”
Aunt May’s voice came from my right, stabling me to reality.
The world started to move again, started to make sense again, when she cupped my cheeks and told me to breathe. When I opened my mouth to ask where my family were, she lightly shook her head and I swallowed my words. Aunt May handed me a glass of water, and I drained it in one gulp.
She told me I was a miracle.
Aunt May didn't say much, and when she did, she broke into sobs.
Her eyes were raw from crying, clinging onto me, her shuddery voice reassuring me that I was going to be okay.
She told me I would be living with her from now on, before wrapping me into a hug and leaving to get coffee.
Once my aunt was gone, another nurse came to prod my IV.
I tried to sleep, but the uncomfortable tightness of the needle sticking into my skin and the sterile white lights in my eyes made it impossible. I waited for grief to catch up with me, drowning me in a hollow oblivion I wouldn't be able to claw myself out of. But I didn't feel sad. I didn't feel angry.
I wanted to know why my family were dead.
I wanted to know why I was breathing, and their skin was ice cold.
Rotting.
The sudden image of maggots crawling up my brother’s nose sent me lurching into a sitting position, my stomach heaving. Reaching for my glass of water, it was empty. The sensation of throwing up felt familiar, almost comforting.
Mom was always with me when I was sick, holding my hair back and lulling my hysteria with reassuring murmurs.
I was frowning at the trash can by the door, my cotton candy brain trying to figure out if I would be able to make it in time, when a small voice drifted from the doorway, startling me.
“I don't want you to come live with us.”
My cousin was peeking through the door, hiding behind a shock of dark brown curls. Jude was the only brunette in our family. The rest of us were redheads.
I wasn't sure why he was dressed up like a ghost, draped in a white cloak that was way too big for him. Jude was a weird kid. His mother, and my auntie, had inherited the family house, so in his mind, that made him superior.
Jude made it clear he didn't like his cousins, refusing to let us play with him and banning us from family gatherings.
When the adults were drinking cocktails and losing their awareness, Jude ordered us around. The times we did play with him, our cousin showed us his spider collection, or the raccoon brain he kept in a jar. PJ was convinced our younger cousin was a serial killer. Several months earlier, he'd happily showed us the roadkill he'd been growing bacteria on under his bed.
Jude’s ‘experiments’ were worrying.
He stuffed mushrooms down my brother’s ears while he was sleeping, to, and I quote, “Recreate The Last Of Us.”
When Lily had a nosebleed during Thanksgiving dinner, Jude collected all her bloody tissues and refused to tell us where he'd put them, and what he had done with them. Fast-forward two months, and I found them under a nest of spiders. Jude was trying to adapt the spiders to be able to feed on human blood. I was surprised my cousin hadn't immediately demanded to see my siblings’ dead bodies for autopsy.
Jude stepped into the room, shuffling his feet.
“I'm sorry about Lily, PJ, and Aunt Ivy.” He mumbled, glaring at the floor tiles.
My cousin made no move to offer real sympathy, instead speaking to the floor.
“But I don't want you to come live with us.” Jude lifted his head, looking me dead in the eye. “I don't like you, Charlie. I want you to stay away.”
Before I could reply, he stepped back like I was diseased.
“You should be dead.” Jude grumbled.
He scowled at me, getting my age purposely wrong as usual before running off.
“Happy 68th birthday.”
I was six months older than him.
In Jude’s eyes, I was ready for retirement.
Still, though, my cousin was right.
I was stone cold dead, and then I was somehow alive.
Which was wrong.
Growing up, I realized Death was not so subtly attempting to fix his mistake.
It started small. I'd choke on things I wasn't supposed to choke on.
Chips.
Candy.
Ice cream.
Aunt May had to perform the heimlich manoeuvre when I choked on a piece of chicken. I thought I was just really unlucky, but then I locked myself in a freezer that didn't have a lock, and almost drowned in the local swimming pool, catching my foot in stray netting.
At the summer fair, Jude convinced me to try apple bobbing, only for my head to conveniently get stuck underwater.
It started to make sense.
I was supposed to die with my family that night, and death was out to get me.
Death started to get clever, changing his tactic. Instead of using everyday things to try to kill me, he sent reinforcements.
I turned twelve years old, and my aunt threw me a huge party, inviting all my classmates. Aunt May was rich, rich.
Mom never explained it, but our grandparents left everything to May.
The house was like a palace, a labyrinth of floors I was yet to explore, and two swimming pools.
I was in the kitchen cutting myself a slice of cake, when, out of nowhere, a dead boy came rushing at me with one of my aunt’s favorite kitchen knives.
A dead boy who I immediately recognised.
Wren Oliver.
Several years prior, he'd gone missing from his parents' yard. The town launched a full investigation, only to find his body in a ditch a week later.
So, Death had sent a footsoldier.
Hiding under a hooded sweatshirt, Wren appeared older, like he had grown up with me. But there was a startling vacancy in his expression that drew the breath from my lungs, freezing me in place. Wren’s death was announced as an accident, though his wounds suggested the opposite, dried blood smearing his right temple and a cavernous hole in his chest, his clothes painted, stained, in bright red, glued in sticky mounds clinging to him.
The boy’s eyes were wild, feral, like an animal.
His hair was longer, a mess of reddish curls matted to his forehead.
Lip split into a demented giggle.
I remember taking a slow step back, my gaze glued to the knife.
Wren’s fingers were wrapped around the handle like he knew exactly how to use it, how to plunge it into my heart and kill me for good. He moved like a predator, zero self awareness or recognition, only driven to kill me.
The dead boy prided himself in slow, intimidating steps, shoving me against the wall and dragging the blade of the knife down the curve of my throat.
His eyes confused me, writhing with hatred that was artificial, programmed into him as Death’s official soldier.
He didn't speak, only smiled, revelling in my fear. I could tell it thrilled him, my trembling hands, my sharp, heavy breaths I couldn't control. Squeezing my eyes shut, I waited to finally die.
I waited for the pain, and to lose my breath once again.
But death was playing with me.
When I opened my eyes, the dead boy was gone, and I was on my knees, screaming.
“Wren Oliver is trying to kill me!" I managed to hiss.
My aunt knelt in front of me, her expression crumpling.
*Sweetie,” She spoke softly, squeezing my hands. Aunt May was trying to appear calm for my sake, but I could tell she was scared, her frantic eyes searching mine. “Wren Oliver is dead.”
The kids surrounding me started to giggle, whispering among themselves.
In the corner of my eye, my cousin was leaning against the door, mid eye roll.
When my aunt was ushering kids back to the pool, Jude came to crouch in front of me. Ever since I started living with him, he'd made sure to keep his distance.
This time, though, Jude leaned uncomfortably close, a sparkle in his eyes I had never seen before. Inclining his head, he rocked back and forth on his heels, prodding me in the forehead.
“If you see the dead boy again, can you tell me?” His lips curved into a smile.
“I did see him.” I gritted out. “I’m not lying.”
Jude shrugged. “I never said you didn't,” he lowered his voice into a whisper, “I wanna know when you see him again.”
“Why?”
His lips curved into a smirk.
“So, I can catch him.”
My cousin got closer, his breath tickling my cheek.
“I seeeeeeee dead people.”
After that incident, death left me alone for a while.
I was fifteen, walking through the forest with a friend, catching fireflies in bell jars. Aunt May was lucky to live so close to the forest, the entrance just outside her back door. When we were littles, PJ would drag Lily and I down the trail to escape Jude’s weird experiments.
I decided to invite Jem Littlewood on a summer walk.
Jem was cute, but in a dorky way. He was chronically clumsy, and dressed like he'd been spat out of a John Hughes movie. We hiked all the way to the end of the river and had a picnic, watching the sun set over the horizon. I was having conflicting feelings for this guy.
Jem was obsessed with fireflies.
Though he seemed more interested in photographing them than me.
The guy couldn't seem to sit still, jumping to his feet to marvel at tiny specks of light dancing in the air.
“I'm just going to take photos!” Jem beamed, holding up his camera.
I had to bite back the urge to say, “Don't you have enough photos?”
I nodded, and he turned and sprinted back down the trail.
Before his footsteps ground to a sudden halt.
At first, I thought he was snapping polaroids.
When I got closer, though, blinking in the eerie dark, I caught something.
Bending down, I picked up a bell jar still spilling fireflies.
Further down the trail, Jem was lying crumpled in the dirt, his camera smashed to pieces next to him, blood running in thick rivulets down his temple. There he was. Leaning against a tree, his arms folded, was the ghost boy. Wren Oliver was growing up with me. Now, a teenager, and yet his face was carved into something else entirely, more of a monster, slight points to his ears and too-sharp teeth, eyes ignited.
Wren didn't look like a ghost boy anymore.
Death had dressed him in shackles of ivy, a crown of glass and bone forced onto his head, entangled in his curls. Death was torturing him.
Wren’s body was its canvas, and every time I got away, he was punished, painting his failures across scarred skin.
I should have been running for my life, but I was mesmerised by each symbol cruelly carved into his neck.
The boy did a slow head incline, like he couldn't believe I was standing in front of him.
His slow spreading smile caught me off guard.
I remembered how to run, stumbling over my feet.
But I couldn't move.
The burning hatred that death had filled him with, was stronger, hollowing him out completely. I managed two shaky steps, before I felt him, an unearthly force winding its way around my spine. This time, he didn't hesitate.
I watched his mouth move, a single curve of his upper lip that wrenched my body from my control, slamming me against a tree. There was something around my throat, choking the breath from my lungs, a thick fog spreading over my eyes.
Following his mouth curving into silent letters, I could feel my feet slowly leaving the ground, my legs dangling.
I was floating.
Hovering off of the ground, suspended by his words.
Through half lidded eyes, I caught the glint of a blade between his fist, but I couldn't move, couldn't scream.
He was drowning me, bleeding into my blood, spider webbing and expanding in my brain without moving a muscle.
Instead, the ghost boy stood silently, running his thumb down the teeth of his knife while he ripped my lungs apart.
It was like suffocating, sinking into that peaceful oblivion I met at eight years old.
This time, though, the darkness was starving.
“Charlie?”
My eyes found daylight, a scream clawing out of my mouth.
“Charlie, it's past curfew!”
Wren flinched, his stoic expression crumpling.
The dead boy’s lips moved again, this time in a curse.
Fuck.
“Charlotte!”
Staggering back, Wren’s eyes widened and the suffocating hold on me severed.
His head snapped in the direction my aunt was coming from.
“Charlie, answer me right now.”
He hesitated, his bare feet pivoting in the dirt, like he was considering finishing me off. Wren studied me with lazy eyes, sucking on his bottom lip. When my aunt's footsteps got louder, branches snapping under her shoes, something contorted in the boy’s face.
Fear.
I guessed the boy wasn't expecting other humans to intrude.
Wren fell over himself, shuffling on his hands and knees, before diving to his feet. When he turned and ran, I was released, slipping to the ground, trying and failing to draw in breath. I barely felt the impact, only a dull thudding pain. I could hear the ghost boy’s footsteps, his uneven, shuddery breaths as he catapulted into a run.
Under a late setting sun, I watched his dancing shadow disappear into the trees.
Mission unsuccessful, I guessed.
When I was fully conscious, Aunt May was checking over Jem, helping him sit up.
“Where did he go?” I managed to get out, scanning the darkness for Wren.
“He's okay, just concussed.” May whispered, dialling 911.
My aunt applied a dressing to Jem’s wound, ignoring the boy’s hisses.
“Keep still.” she murmured, smoothing his bandaid. “What happened, Charlotte?”
“She pushed me over.” Jem groaned, shuffling away from me. When my aunt told him to stay calm, he straightened up, leaning against the tree. “The psycho bitch tried to fucking kill me!”
When my aunt's gaze flicked to me, I shook my head.
“It was Wren Oliver.” I gritted, teetering on hysteria. I could tell she didn't believe me, but I couldn't stop myself.
I prodded at my throat, clawing for the indentations where his phantom fingers snaked around my neck, squeezing the breath from my lungs.
But there was nothing.
I could feel my mind starting to unravel. I nodded to my disgruntled classmate trying to dodge my aunt’s prodding.
“Ow, ow, ow! That stings!
“He knocked Jem out.” I managed. “Then he tried to kill me.”
Jem surprised me with a scoff. “You're seriously blaming your psychotic break on a dead kid?”
Aunt May pursed her lips, motioning for Jem to be quiet. Judging from her face, however, she agreed with the boy.
May forced a smile, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. “Okay. Can you, uh, describe the boy to me, Charlotte?”
“He was wearing a crown,” I said, “And he looked my age.”
Aunt May cocked her head, and I saw real worry, like she was trying not to freak out. Jem made a snorting noise.
“I'm sorry, he was wearing a crown?”
“Yes!” I insisted, getting progressively more frustrated.
I tried to jump up, only for my aunt to gently lower me back down. “I know it sounds crazy, but death has sent Wren Oliver to kill me, just like my family. He tried to kill me when I was twelve, too!”
Jem let out a bitter laugh. “Your niece is a fucking wackadoodle.”
Aunt May’s eyes darkened. She grabbed my shoulders, her nails stabbing into my skin. “Charlie, I want you to listen to me, okay?” When my eyes found the rapidly darkening sky, my aunt forced me to look at her.
“Charlotte!”
She was as scared as me, her voice shuddering.
“Wren Oliver is dead.” My aunt said firmly, shaking me. Even then, though, I wasn't even looking at her. I was trying to find his ignited eyes lighting up the dark. “Wren died at eight years old in a terrible accident, and you can't keep using him as an excuse for your mental trauma.” There was something twitching in her expression I was trying to make sense of. When I risked a look at Jem, the boy was staring at me dazedly– like I really was crazy.
Aunt May pressed her face into my shoulder, and I could feel her tears soaking into my shirt. She was trying to hold it together, trying to understand.
“Charlie, I know you lost your family,” she whispered. “But you and Wren Oliver are not the same. You survived, and he didn't.” Her voice splintered.
“You need to come to terms with that, okay?”
When I didn't respond, she pinched my chin, forcing me to look at her.
“Charlotte.”
Aunt May’s voice turned cold. “I ignored this when you were a kid, but if you continue to use this poor boy as a coping mechanism, I will have no choice but to send you to a specialist.”
When Jem was taken away by paramedics, Aunt May held my hand, squeezing my fingers for dear life.
I caught her gaze scanning the tree's around us, delving into twisting oblivion. Every little noise sent her twisting around. She was looking for something.
“I'm going to get you help.” Aunt May said in a low murmur when we were back at the house. Jude was sitting on the kitchen counter, legs swinging. I could feel his penetrating gaze burning into the back of my head.
Aunt May set a cup of cocoa on the table.
“No more fairytales.”
By the time I was eighteen, I had bitten three therapists.
They refused to believe that death was coming to reclaim my soul, and was using a dead boy to do his dirty work.
For my 16th birthday, I braced myself to come face to face with Wren Oliver’s ghost.
I wasn't even in town, staying at a friend's house.
But dead boys, and especially dead boys moulded into Death’s personal soldiers, could materialise anywhere.
I locked every door in the house, and taped up my friend’s window.
Nothing happened.
On my seventeenth birthday, I was sick in bed with gastritis.
Still no ghost boy.
Death seemed to have finally left me alone.
On my eighteenth birthday, I was stuffing books in my locker when my cousin popped up out of nowhere, scowling as usual. After an unexpected growth spurt and losing a tonne of baby fat, my cousin had scaled the high school hierarchy, swapping his weird experiments for a varsity jacket and experimenting with his sexuality.
The two of us had come to an unspoken truce.
I kept quiet about his spider collection to his popular friends, and he tolerated my existence until I left for college.
“Your surprise party is cancelled.”
Jude leaned against my locker, running a hand through thick dark hair tucked under a baseball cap. Jude never admitted it, but he was definitely embarrassed of being the odd one out.
My siblings may be dead, but they were still redheads.
I pulled off his cap with a smile, throwing it in his face. “Sure it is.”
My cousin’s eyes widened. He lost his slick bravado, grabbing for his cap.
“Hey!”
According to my cousin, my party was unexpectedly cancelled every year.
I wasn't sure if it was his weird superiority complex, or just plain jealousy, but it was getting exhausting.
Jude followed me down the hallway, matching my stride.
“Can you just not come home tonight?”
I quickened my pace. “It's only a party. I'm having some friends over, and no, we won't go anywhere near your room.”
“No, I mean.” Jude stepped in front of me, and for the first time in a while, he wasn't trying to hide disdain for me.
His dark eyes pinned me in place for a moment, the world around us coming to a halt. Sound bled away, and all I heard were his slow breaths. There was something there, an unexplainable twitch in his eyes and lips, that twisted my gut.
Jude stepped closer, his lip curling. He shoved me back, losing his facade.
“Stay the fuck away from the house tonight.” He said, and his voice, his tone, was enough to send shivers creeping down my spine. Jude had always hid behind a ten foot wall in his mind. It was jarring to see something in him finally start to splinter. Fuck. I thought.
This kid had serious Mommy issues.
I blinked, and the world resumed, kids pushing past us.
Jude seemed to catch himself, slipping back under his mask.
“I'm having friends over,” he rolled his eyes, “Your presence will ruin the vibe.”
“It's my birthday?”
He groaned, tipping his head back. “Yes, I know. But–”
“I think you can deal with the attention off of you for one night, Jude.”
“Will Wren Oliver be there too?” Jem Littlewood hollered.
Jude didn't respond for a moment, his lip curling.
“Shut the fuck up.” He spat at Jem, who immediately backed down. With an audience this time, Jude forced an award winning smile. “Fine.” His lips split into a grin I knew he hated. My cousin clamped his hand on my shoulder, hard enough to hurt. I could feel his fingers pinching the material of my jacket. “Have it your way, dude.”
Jude backed away with a two fingered salute.
“Happy 78th birthday!”
In a sense, I wish I listened to my cousin.
My party was a success, sort of.
Four of us, a crate of beers, and no sign of my cousin.
I was mildly tipsy, sitting on the edge of the pool, dangling my legs in the water when my friend demanded more beers.
I was also hungry for cake, so I stumbled inside in search of the goods.
The house was dark, lit up in dazzling blue from the pool's lights reflecting through the windows. Aunt May was in her office on the ground floor, and Jude was getting high in his room. In my drunken state, I found myself marvelling my aunt's house, and how much of it was left unexplored.
For example, in the foyer, past the spiral staircase she’d had custom made, was an elevator I had never questioned.
There was a girl my age standing on the staircase.
She was frozen, mid run, dressed in ragged jeans and t-shirt.
Everything about her stuck out to me, bringing me to a sobering halt.
The girl reminded me of my sister– or at least, if my sister had ever grown up.
I wasn't sure if I was drunk or hallucinating.
Her flower crown was pretty…
Lily had grown wings.
I was slowly moving towards her, a sudden bang sounding from the kitchen.
The bang of something shattering on the floor.
Twisting around, I found myself gravitating towards warm golden light.
The first thing I saw was the refrigerator door hanging open, and someone, no, something, rooting around inside it.
Glued to the spot, I dazedly watched them grab milk, guzzling it down, and then soda, cracking open each can and sucking them dry, before carving their fingers into my birthday cake.
But I wasn't looking at the spillage of food seeping across the floor. Instead, my gaze found a crown of antlers, both human and animal bone entangled with dead flowers and human remains glued to a head of familiar matted brown curls. There was something sticking from battered and bruised flesh, twin gaping slits sliced through a torn shirt resembling glass wings that were not yet formed, reminding me of a butterfly.
Wings.
But not the wings I dreamed of as a kid. These things were unnatural mounds that both did and didn't make sense on a human boy. I could see the trauma of them slicing through his flesh, monstrous, looming things protruding from what was left of a human spine.
Human, and yet I couldn't call his beautifully grotesque face human.
Wren Oliver had grown up with me, now an adult.
Eighteen years old.
His clothes confused me, a single white shirt and shorts.
Wren’s feet were bare, battered and bruised, blood smearing my aunt's tiles.
Angel.
Death had turned his footsoldier, and my future killer, into an angel.
But there was nothing angelic about the dead boy, his body and mind sculpted and moulded into Death’s own.
The boy no longer resembled a human, feral eyes and a manic smile, choking down pieces of cake. His face had been contorted into a monster, gnashing teeth and sharp points in his ears, a sickly tinge to malnourished skin.
And that's when it hit me, watching him stuff himself with food.
Something slimy inched its way up my throat.
The boy didn't move. I don't even think he'd noticed me, gorging himself on anything he could get his hands on.
Chicken, raw bacon, leftover salad.
When he moved onto cupcakes, licking frosting from his fingers, I glimpsed markings on his arms, a language I didn't understand, carved into him.
His wrists were shackled, bound, in entangled iron and vine, iron that was ingrained into his skin, vines and flowers and ivy entangling his bones, that were part of him, polluting his blood. Slowly, my eyes found stab wounds splitting open his torso.
Raw flesh, where his skin had been torched, melting, and then merging, ripped apart and put back together over and over again.
I found his heart, the gaping cavern in his chest where it should be.
And it was.
Marked, carved, and branded with a symbol resembling an X.
Wren Oliver was not dead.
But, just like me, he should have been.
I remember saying his name, my voice slurred slightly.
I didn't drink that much, but I could barely coerce words, my head spinning.
Wren’s neck snapped towards me, his eyes narrowing with resentment I couldn't understand, hatred that seemed to puppeteer him. Slowly tilting his head, the boy’s lips split into a grin, eyes filled, polluted, with mania.
I could see where his lips had been stitched shut, and then ripped open.
“Hi.”
He held up his hand in an awkward wave.
When one of my friends stumbled into the kitchen, Wren reacted on impulse.
He picked up a knife from the counter, throwing it like a dart, straight through the guy’s throat.
Something shattered inside my mind.
Ignoring my friend bleeding out, Wren stumbled over himself, abandoning his feast. He took a single step towards me, backing me against the wall, coming so close, close enough for me to feel his very real breath grazing my cheeks. Just like when he was a kid, he traced the teeth of his blade down my throat. I wasn't expecting him to burst out laughing, trembling with hysteria.
His eyes were wild, feral and wrong, almost euphoric.
With what all I could only recognise as relief.
BANG.
I was barely aware of the gunshot.
The bullet went straight through his head, the winged boy hitting the ground.
Dead.
I saw the blood stemming around him in a halo before the bleeding pool faltered, seeping back inside his head.
Like rewinding a VCR.
Wren was dead, and then he was alive.
Wren’s body contorted, his chest inflating.
His gasp for air was painful, strangled, eyes opening wide.
Terrified.
“You fucking idiot.”
Jude’s voice sent me twisting around.
My cousin stood in the exact same robes he wore as a child.
The world tipped off kilter, and I was on my knees, then my stomach.
I sunk to the floor, my thoughts swimming.
Jude’s murmur followed me, creeping into the dark.
“I told you not to come home.”
I can't remember how long I was unconscious for.
When I woke, I was dressed in an evening gown, a dress that used to be my mother’s.
My vision cleared, and I found myself sitting in an unfamiliar room resembling an abandoned swimming hall.
The pool itself was empty, the bottom stained revealing scarlet.
There were symbols carved into each tile.
Like a game.
“Sit up straight, Charlotte.”
I was sitting at a banquet.
Jude was in front of me, sipping on wine.
He caught my eye for half a second before averting his gaze.
At the far end of the table sat my aunt May.
Kissing the rim of her glass, her smile was twisted.
“I've been waiting so long to give you your birthday presents, Charlotte. Your memories should be returning soon.”
“Mom.” Jude muttered, hiding behind his glass. “Calm down. You're embarrassing yourself.”
Ignoring my cousin, May tapped her glass with a fork, and in walked my birthday presents.
No, dragged.
By their hair.
Wren Oliver, the dead boy, was in fact my aunt's prisoner.
Behind him, was the girl who looked so much like Lily.
I think that's why my aunt chose her.
Aunt May cleared her throat.
“For a long time, our family has lived among creatures who live in the forest you played inside. In exchange for keeping this town safe, they only ask for small favors. Wayward children who disappear into the woods are good enough payment. Charlie, you and your siblings do not share our inheritance. Your mother never wanted fae children. She wanted you to be human.”
Aunt May’s smile faded.
“After losing my sister, and my niece and nephew, I made a deal to give my last surviving niece 100 years of life.”
Her words were white noise, my gaze glued to my birthday presents. I couldn't call them human anymore.
I couldn't call Wren human, when his face was so beautifully grotesque, painfully hypnotising.
The monstrous things sticking from twin slits in his back were supposed to be wings, except they looked wrong, cruelly protruding from his exposed spine. Under the influence of alcohol earlier, the girl made me smile.
Her wings, to me, looked like one of a real fairy.
In reality, they were torn and shredded apart, bigger than the girl herself.
When she dropped onto her stomach, she was dragged back to her feet, her knees buckling under the weight. Her tiara of flowers and bone looked pretty to me when I saw her on the stairs.
Now, though, I could see the pearly white of a human child's skull forced onto her head, dead flowers threaded through cavernous, gaping eye sockets.
The two of them were violently shoved into the empty pool.
“Jude. Please demonstrate, sweetheart.”
Jude stood, pulling out a gun, and aiming it at the winged girl.
BANG.
The girl’s body hit the tiles, her blood seeping across stained white.
“Now, of course, our king did not give you life for free.” May continued.
“The King demanded a debt, as well as two heirs to join him in his court once your hundred years were complete.”
Her lips quirked into a smile.
“The king is smart. If a child cannot be stolen from the human world, they can, however, be made, moulded and shaped from their human forms, skinned of their humanity through their suffering, leaving a hollowed out shell in the child's place.” She was speaking so casually, ignoring Wren’s whimpers.
“The conversion takes a while. 100 years to birth a fully blooded fae heir, who will lose their human memories, in preparation to join their new family.”
Jude shot Wren in the chest, his eyes empty.
This time, he dropped his weapon, using finger-guns instead.
“Bang.” He deadpanned.
Then the neck.
I watched Wren come back to life, and then die.
Over and over again.
I think at one point, he screamed and cried.
But not now.
He was their puppet on display, dancing for their entertainment.
Half lidded eyes drowned in oblivion found mine, and I understood his hatred.
Before he was shot again.
Stabbed.
Branded and burned, and ripped apart.
At some point, I screamed at them to stop. I couldn't breathe, slamming my hands over my ears and begging them.
Aunt May didn't listen, ordering for my hands to be tied down.
“The King required two human sacrifices to suffer in your place.” She concluded. “For one hundred years.”
Aunt May’s smile was suddenly sad, and she lifted her glass in a toast.
I was watching their blood trickle down each tile in the pool, like every death, every time they suffered, my body became progressively less human.
I felt disgusting. I wasn't supposed to be alive. Every single year of my life, every breath I had taken, was stolen.
Aunt May nodded at me, her lips forming a proud smile. She stood up, and was handed a sacrificial knife.
Climbing into the swimming pool herself, she strode over to Wren.
The boy slumped to the floor, trembling, his knees against his chest.
Aunt May grabbed him by the hair, forcing his head up, and sliced the blade across his throat.
His eyes flicked to me, and I swore he smiled.
Spots of red dotted yellowing tiles, a river trickling under my aunt's heels.
“Happy 78th birthday, Charlotte.”
Last night ended with me being locked in my room.
It's been almost 15 hours, and the door is still locked. Please help me. I'm fucking terrified of what my aunt is planning.
I can't stop shgajing. FycjbfucibFUCK
If she is telling the truth, I shouldn't be here, right??
And I can't stop thinking.
Is Wren Oliver trying to kill me, or himself?

Maddie most liked: all gods creatures Least liked: go go girl (tap dance against kenzie) Brook Most liked: garden of eden Least liked: super model Paige Most liked: get up get loud get tough Least liked: season 1 solo (Paige forgot her solo) Kenzie Most liked: Bully (hip hop) Least liked: if the shoe fits Chloe Most liked: Red Queen Least liked: Beautiful (hip hop) Nia Most liked: Getting away with murder Least liked: they call me laquifa Kalani Most liked: Save me Least liked:on the edge of my seat Kendall Most liked: the scream Least liked: waiting on a train to Paris Jojo Most liked: i’ll show you the Darkside Least liked:million dollar baby Brynn Most liked: Botched Least liked: you taught me how to Camryn Most liked: breaking free Least liked: weight of the world
Comment and tell me you favorite and least favorite dances the girls have done

It was so terribly cold. Snow was falling, and it was almost dark, when out of the blue, my wife called me at work. "We're going to Niagara Falls for the weekend. I got us an awesome deal!"
We had both been working at our first "full-fledged" jobs for a year and had reached that moment after graduation when you suddenly realize you can't make that impact on the world your student enthusiasm once promised. At first, I just sighed. It was the dead of January, and I had already expended all my energy on a week of inconsequential stress. I just wanted to collapse on the couch for two days. Sarah felt a similar weary exhaustion. I could tell. Her tone was more hopeful than excited, but she had dreaded the routine we were sinking into and was trying her best to pull us free.
I looked to the ceiling and adjusted my telephone headset. At that time I was working at Stats Canada on the tele-query desk. I took a deep breath and, as convincingly as possible, said, "Sounds good." I don't think she bought it, but we went nonetheless.
This was Niagara Falls before the casinos when there was a very distinct off-season. When we got to the hotel, we were given the details of our "lovers' special". One dinner to be used either Friday or Saturday, two breakfasts, a roll of tokens for the arcade, 10% off some "4D" movie ride experience, and a 2-for-1 coupon to Max Tussaud's. I guessed it was Madame's nephew? We also got a bottle of sparkling wine in our room and chocolate treats on our pillows. I was impressed. It sounded good.
When we got into our room and saw the "bottle" of wine - basically an aeroplane-sized glass and half - and the chocolates - "fun wrapped" Oh Henry's left over from Halloween - we both started to laugh. The tone for two wonderful days had been set. We decided to cash in on our dinner coupon right away.
The restaurant off the lobby had hopes of being better. There were huge panoramic windows that promised a view of the gorge. Unfortunately, they had some winter moisture problems that day, and it felt like we were defrosting amid the dripping streaks and foggy patches. The decor was your standard booths and tables though the "romantic" lighting was unique. Dollar store battery-powered tea lights were lodged inside thick tumbler glasses and shed a muted pleasantness in a "what a great idea for a craft" sort of way. I had a feeling they were created by our waitress since she was the one who always seemed to be fussing with them. Only one other couple was in the dining room, so she attended to us immediately.
"Can I get you something to start?"
"Sure." "Thank you, that would be nice." We both responded simultaneously.
"And what would the lady like this evening?"
Sarah smiled at the flattery. "I think I'll have a glass of white wine." She glanced over at me to see my reaction. This was a subtle cue of the mood to follow. Diet Coke was usually the beverage of choice. She didn't normally drink alcohol. One glass numbed her nose and made her giggle far too easily. When she did drink, however, it meant she was comfortable with my company and open to anything to follow. I raised my eyebrows in a debonair way.
"And for the gentleman?"
"Do you have Foster's on tap?"
"Yes we do."
"I'll have a pint please."
Sarah smiled at the happy memories I invoked. At university, Foster's was my signature beer. It was at a time when Crocodile Dundee was a known name, and Australia was inexplicably cool. 15 cent buffalo wings and a pitcher of Foster's was the Tuesday night special at the London Arms pub. There the Classics Club would meet and, as a group, circle the wagons and drink ourselves into extroverts.
As soon as the waitress left, Sarah smiled at me. She reached out and held my hand across the table. With my gaze on hers, she slipped her foot from her shoe and slowly began sliding it up my pant leg.
"I got a pedicure this morning." She announced seductively.
I nodded and pretended I didn't notice her invitation. "What colour?" I asked.
"I'm not telling." She teased. "You'll just have to find out later." Her devious little smile was gorgeous.
"Mmmm. I can't wait."
When the waitress returned with our drinks, we immediately retreated to our personal spaces as if we had been discovered by the chaperone. Sarah opened the menu and began to salivate at the variety.
"Can we add an appetizer to the package dinner?" Her question seemed innocent enough.
"You're on the package?" Our friendly waitress disappeared, and we were no longer a lady or a gentleman. She ripped the menu out of Sarah's hand and took mine before I had even opened it. She then scurried to her podium and brought back a tattered, grease-stained, photocopied page that we had to share. We both burst out laughing.
The waitress was flustered that we were not as bothered as she was. "The drinks are NOT included!"
"What choices do we have?" I asked, expecting the usual chicken or fish. I had been on many packages before with my parents.
"Coffee or tea." The waitress snapped.
Sarah and I looked at each other in amused disbelief.
"I'll have coffee please." I didn't even flinch at the ridiculously limited package. I was eager to get my order in early.
"And I'll have the tea!" Sarah followed my lead. "Can I have some milk with that?"
"Yes." The waitress snarled.
"Fantastic!" I enthused.
"Yes, great! I'm glad we got the package, Honey." Sarah joked.
The waitress stormed off and returned sometime later with our lettuce-only salads drowned in Kraft's Italian dressing and our chewy chicken dinners, which she had thoughtfully allowed to cool. She tossed the plates on the table and left us to peacefully devour our deal. We didn't see her again until we requested the bill. For some reason, we found it amusing to leave a generous tip, which of course, defeated the purpose of the package, but we didn't care. It was fun.
The rest of the holiday was marred with similar off-season products and services. The wax museum was only half open, so we couldn't see the pop stars of the seventies. I didn't think it was a problem, but Sarah pouted playfully. She really wanted to see young Bowie. Meanwhile, the arcade was particularly stingy about spitting out coupons. So much so that Mike, the scraggly-haired repair guy, ended up escorting us from game to game and repairing the devices on demand. In no time, he was acting like an old drinking buddy. He joked and laughed, then, out of the blue, revealed that working at the Niagara Falls Fun Centre wasn't his career choice, that his dream was to be part of a travelling carnival. He desperately wanted to see more of the world, he explained and socialize with a greater variety of "wildlife." Mike winked at Sarah to punctuate his meaning, then began advising her on which games to play.
Sarah was partial to Skee ball and clearly had career potential in the sport, but Mike quickly pointed out that the token-to-coupon payout was not the best. In a furtive whisper, he revealed that The Storm Stopper was your best bet, provided the arcade had left it on its original factory settings. He assured us the ones here were "cool." The game had lights that ran around the outside in opposite directions and you had to hit the button at just the right spot to win. It looked impossible, but Mike was right; if you calculated tokens in versus coupons won, it was the best deal. It only took a little practice to win a minor jackpot every 5 or 6 times.
We would cheer each win as if Toronto had won the Stanley Cup. I would give a quick fist pump and a full lung "Yes!" while Sarah would jump up and down screaming, "WhoooHooo!" Of course, in the end, when we cashed in, "Mike's secret" only bumped us up from a key-chain flashlight to a "deluxe" nail beauty set. Mind you, it did come complete with clippers, scissors, a file AND a cuticle scraper. Not only that, it was all neatly packaged in a paisley-patterned pink and green plastic vinyl case. Mike was so pleased to give us our prize and to be honest, we were thrilled to win it if only to see his broad chicletted smile. It was more of a trophy than a grooming set.
That night, I made reservations for us at a fancy Chinese food restaurant - the Bamboo Garden. When we arrived, we had half-expected renovations of some sort. Instead, the place was immaculate. Gentle pools teeming with goldfish highlighted the epic black and red Ming dynasty decor. Real candles flickered on crisp white tablecloths. Again, the restaurant was virtually ours. The reservations on my part were entirely unnecessary. In fact, as soon as we entered, they knew us by name and guided us directly to our table. A live lounge piano caressed the air, its notes danced vaguely around familiar harmonies until finally, as if prompted by our presence, a song emerged immediately accompanied by the velvet voice of oriental karaoke. It was our song remastered

Popping up in a voodoo shop in New Orleans, a demon made of burlap made his way to the counter. His inky eyes glittered with excitement at my presence, a couple of his pins popping out. Fishing around the pocket of my jet black summer dress, a box of giant pins grazed against my fingertips. Setting the pins on the counter, Wisty shifted uncomfortably behind me. The voodoo doll demon's short stature had me smiling to myself. Mr. Dolls was a demon with the pension for the simple things.
“How is it going, Mr. Dolls?” I chirped cheerfully, hoping to get access into the Dark Market for a few supplies to seal those reapers into their final resting place. Feathers fluttered onto my shoulder, his beak kissing my cheek. Fluffing the top of his head, Mr. Dolls tucking them underneath the desk. Taking in all the basic supplies for any spell on the worn shelves, his hand slid over a rusting skeleton key. How long has it been since I visited the market?
“Have fun!” He bellowed in his deep southern accent, a Cheshire Cat grin spreading ear to ear with the peck to his cheek. A black iron door appeared in front of us, the brass knob turning on its own. Crossing the threshold, the door creaked shut behind us. A sea of rundown buildings greeted me, the stands lined with every magical tool and herb one could need. Fixing his black band t-shirt and ripped jeans, something told me that he felt out of place. Most of the people in the market wore clothing similar to ours, his fraying nerves relaxing visibly. Something reeked, my eyes scanning the chaos bustling about in front of me. Chewing on my lips, a tap on Feathers’ head sent him ahead to check things out. Hooking my elbow around his, his real smile lit up his features. Moving from stand to stand, ingredients were soon filling up my worn leather bag. A scream had our heads snapping in its direction, a corrupt reaper seconds from decapitating a random witch. Shoving the bag into Wisty’s chest, my fingers plucked my fans from my boot. Flicking them to their full length, shocked gasps passed like silent whispers the moment I pushed off the cobblestone street. Ruby moonlight bathed me, the shadowy reaper glancing up at me. Spinning my fans around my wrist, a blast of wind had him crashing into a pile of bricks. Landing gracefully, the shoppers scurried into the nearest buildings. Cart owners rolled their mobile shops into the closest alleyway, their livelihood depending on that alone. Admiring the amount of space, the rogue reaper rose to his feet with a hiss. Spinning his shadow scythe over his head, the reaper was so far gone that words were no longer an option. Raising my fans in the attack position, this battle was going to sting like a bitch. Charging at me, my fans blocked his scythe. Kicking me in the stomach, several of my organs burst. Blood rained in the sky, a building catching me. Glancing down at my stomach, a whimper escaped my lips at the broken pipe impaling me. Peeling myself off, inky blood pooled on the top of my boots. Hiding behind the wall, the reaper was hopping towards me. Chains blocked his path, my body sliding down the wall. A small demon child cried behind her mother, a sympathetic smile leaving my lips. Plucking my pocket watch out of my boot, my concentration lingered on the pipe and wall. Spinning the top, everything repaired itself. Struggling to my feet, a new plan of attack needed to be found. Noting the bag of sand in the corner, my brow raised with a sly grin.
“May I borrow your bag of sand? I promise to buy you another one after the madness is over.” I requested politely, my head bowing in shame at my blood staining their carpet. “And perhaps a carpet as well.” Opening the window, their shock filled eyes followed me climbing out the window. Heaving myself onto the roof, my eyes scanned the vast market for a viable plan. Salem flew past my head, my arm catching him. Setting him down gingerly, no wounds were visible. Fishing around my boot, a healing potion grazed the tip of my fingers. Offering him the vial, his trembling hand gulped it down. Swaying slightly, the reaper punched the walls behind him.
“Any weaknesses?” I inquired with a rub on his shoulder, his head shaking. My worst fear had been confirmed, the reaper was well beyond the normal level. Checking to see if the bag was still there, Salem’s protest fell on deaf ears the moment I leapt onto the next roof. Landing next to me, his rage was his weakness. Keeping to the shadows, we were just over him. Jumping off, my loud landing had his head snapping in my direction.
“Is the little reaper done with his temper tantrum!” I teased with a defiant grin, his temper flaring. Crashing towards me, sand exploded the moment it hit the street. Pirouetting around his shadowy form, a swift kick had him flailing in air. Twirling around to pick up speed, a tornado whistled to life around me. Feathers floated into the howling funnel of wind, an abrupt stop had him trapped in the death trap. Feathers cut into his skin, my fingers curling around the pocket watch. Speeding up the tornado, his screams grew louder. Inky blood poured from my nose, the screams dying down. The tornado died down, a pile of ash remaining where the reaper once stood. A gang of demons crunched behind me, sand crunching as I spun on my heels. Cocking my head to the left, hidden horror hid underneath my confident smile at the blade being pressed to a kid’s throat. Couldn't one thing go right today, damn it!
“I suggest you let the little guy go.” I threatened icily, my patience wearing thin. “If you don’t, Death is going to rain down on you.” Pushing the kid towards me, his parents called him over. Masked gang members fussed with their simple onyx masks, the hooded sweatshirt and jeans throwing me off. The leader sauntered forward, his seven foot stature had me doubting myself for a few spare moments.
“It’s not like you are in charge of the universe or anything.” He retorted bitterly, his visible lips curling into a smile at my visible rage. “Oh shit! You are in charge of the universe. So you are the infamous Asphodel, the one to kill. Do you know that Master Skull has an impressive bounty on your head?” Scoffing with an eye roll, the information was all I needed to know. Master Skull needed time to recover from his withdrawals.
“Your bitch of a boss can fight me himself.” I snapped impatiently, spinning my fans in my palms. “Is the money worth you dying?” Leaning his head back, a hearty laugh poured from his lips. Gritting my teeth, his level of disrespect had my temper flaring visibly. Clenching my jaw, Wisty popped up by my side. Cracking his knuckles, his chains whipped around him. Respect burned in their eyes for him, another wave of fury crashing through me. Did I not look authoritative enough to garner respect?
“If you know what’s good for you, your asses should leave and never come back.” Wisty warned with a low growl in his throat, the gangster breaking out into a fit of laughter. “So plan B it is, eh?” Cocking the safety, a bullet whistled by my head. Chains blocked a barrage of bullets, the idiots chose death over living. Splitting up, stealth would be my friend. One of the stand owners pushed out a sack of ash, my fingers curling around the top. Tucking my pocket watch back into my boot, wits would be my way out once more. Scaling a building, the sheer impact would create an incredible fog on the street. Hanging it over the ledge, footfalls echoed behind me. Releasing the sack, time slowed during the descent. Spinning on my heels, the precise edge of my fan cut through a gang member’s neck with ease. Smashing the heel of my boot into his head until it resembled brain and bone stew, the sack hit the street. Leaping over the ledge, the cloud obscured my landing. Dancing through the ash, spin after spin had demon heads bouncing off of my boots. Crashing into Wisty, my breath hitched at how handsome he looked in the chaos. Kissing each other passionately, scarlet painted my cheeks upon the release of his spell. Getting back into the battle, about a dozen of them remained. Dodging the attacks with ease, my light footwork was proving to be my friend. Muddy blood sprayed my face with every slice, the bodies hitting our feet. Decaying to ash, one demon remained. Skidding into the nearest alleyway, Wisty smashed into me. Every ounce of breath hitched at how close he was, his crooked grin causing my heart to flutter wildly. Seconds from flirting with me, the leader’s voice had our heads snapping in his direction.
“Nice work. If I didn’t know who you were then you would be hired in a heartbeat. Most people die within ten minutes of meeting us.” He mused darkly, his body paced back and forth in the thick of the cloud. Something seemed off, the damn trick looking like an illusion. The energy shifted, copies appeared in every space. Wisty sent out his chains, the real one seeming out of range. Glancing up, his body appeared over us. Spinning my fans in my palm, wind built up. Flicking them into his direction, a ball of air swirled around my boot. Releasing the ball of air with a swift kick, my fans’ speed tripled. Shock round his eyes at the sharp edges cutting him into three pieces. His head bounced off of mine, the torso splattering by our boots. His expensive shoes clanged with every clumsy strike on their way down. Decaying to ash before they could hit the street, his torso and head wasn’t far behind. Catching my fans in my eager palms, Wisty cupped my cheeks. What was going through his head right now?
“I love you so much right now! Nothing can describe how sexy you look at this very moment.” He flirted shamelessly, everyone coming out to see nothing but ash and an empty street. Gathering the souls into a bag, his steady hand dropped the bag of supplies into my hands. He wasn't this sweet unless he wanted something.
“Stay here until I ditch these bastards in Hell.” He pleaded with his palms pressed together, my ears pinning back. Shooting him a thumbs up, his chains whisking him away. Plopping down on the nearest bench, patience wore thin in my eyes. Lantern appeared next to me, his perfect waves floating up. What now! My bed was beckoning, the softness of the blankets gifting me rare moments of sweet slumber.
“Time for a meeting, council leader.” He announced with a big smile, hesitation burning in my eyes. “Wisty will meet us after he finishes up.” Huffing a bitter fine, his arm curled around my waist. Something was up, curiosity mixing with a dull fury. Narrowing my eyes in his direction, a nervous chuckle flooded from his lips. Zooming into the hallway outside the meeting room, his strong arms set me down. Holding his finger in the air, his head poked into the slightly ajar door. Smoothing out his robes, he cleared his throat. Why did he have such an odd expression?
“Don’t murder us but we wanted to celebrate your promotion.” He pleaded with another nervous chuckle, his hand pushing the door open. Mixed emotions flashed on my face, Mother Nature waving at me with Ravy in her arms. Taking in their usual outfits, my old man came in with a peanut butter flavored ice cream cake. The door opened again, Wisty stepping in with an apologetic smile on his lips. Waving at us, his fingers intertwined with mine. Spinning me around, his arm curled around my waist. Staring up at him with a look of disbelief, the idea had to be his and his alone.
“What brought on this?” I inquired with a cock of my brow, a sly grin brightening his exhausted features. Shrugging his shoulders, my father motioned for us to sit. Taking my seat at the head of the table, an empty chair remained. Tears welled up in my eyes, his name having been engraved in his seat. Silent tears stained my cheeks, tears pooling on the table. Covering my mouth, Wisty took my hand. Not sure what to do, his place would always remain here and in my heart.
“We wanted to remember him as well, my dear.” Mother Nature spoke with tears glistening in her eyes, her broken expression lingering on the chair. “Don’t leave us like him!" Kissing the top of Ravy’s head, a tainted feeling of hope came over the space. Something ate at me, Master Skull's plan proving to be insecure at best. Why wouldn’t he fight me himself? Fingers snapped in front of my face, Wisty staring into my eyes with the utmost concern. The lights flickered, arms ripping me away from the table. Falling through the dimensions, Master Skull’s boot met my stomach. A fountain of blood burst from my lips, my fingers clawing at the warm rock underneath me. Where the hell was I?
“Open up the seal or die right here!” He demanded venomously, throwing the bag of supplies into my face. Wicked laughter rumbled in my throat, our story would be ending today. Getting on my knees, this fucking bastard didn’t know the spell. Raising his leg over my head, my fingers caught his ankle. Not today, you freaking cockroach.
“As much as I like this little trip to a necessary location, you can’t tell me to do shit!” I barked back with a defiant grin on a determined face. “Try me.” Whipping him into the air, my muscles protested as I snatched the bag. Sprinting into a nearby cave, the supplies hit the smooth black surface. Dumping the ingredients into the special bowl, my fingers curled around my fans. Coughing up a glob of blood, the glob hit the top. Grinding it into a paste, my necklace floated over my head. Lowering itself into the bowl, the ingredients changed into a thin liquid. Waiting for the screams to pierce my ears, nothing came. The bracelet on my wrist glowed brighter, his magic protecting my ears. Something groaned in the distance, a ruby glow taunted me. Sprinting down the tunnels, the entrance to the reapers’ resting place threatened to open. Sinking to my knees, my fingers moved a mile a minute. Strange symbols came to life, the spell would seal their fate. Pressing my palms together, the next words flowed seamlessly from my lips.
“Blossom of Mother Nature! Blood of time! Flames of the Heaven! Wax of Life! Stone of Hell and Death! Combine to form the permanent seal to save us all!” I chanted boldly, Master Skull skidding in. “Take all the power you need from my humble soul!” Pressing my palms onto the stone, a bright blinded me as a black energy welded it shut. Master Skull smashed into me, his blade sliding in and out of me. Large pools splattered the walls, the spell almost finishing up. Waiting with bated breath, a blast of energy knocked us back. Rolling across the smooth surface, a quarter of my power remained. Twitching in the pool of my growing blood, another wave of energy signaled that realm being cut off from the other side. Striking me too fast for my body to heal, tears of joy flooded from my eyes. Voices called for me in the distance, Master Skull kicking me into the air. Every person that I met crashed into view, waves of water smashing Master Skull into the wall. Fighting him off with their weapons, Wisty caught me in his arms. Holding me until the wounds sealed shut, his tears splashed onto my face. Knowing what I was thinking, his head shook desperately.
“Don’t you dare even think about that!” He begged with wild sobs, his hands trembling underneath me. Ignoring him, he cried out as I jumped out of his arms. Sprinting towards the chaos, fresh tears streaming from my eyes. Happy images of my friends flashed in my eyes, my fans darkening to the deepest black. Giant feathers floated behind me, several organs bursting. Unlocking my limit, the situation at hand would be the very definition of an emergency. The others collapsed to the rock, a wall preventing him from getting to me. A gust of wind sent them all back, blood pouring from my eyes, ears and mouth. Holding my head up high, the universe was my responsibility.
“The universe needs saving, so let me do my damn job!” I shouted through a wall of tears, fresh cuts appearing on my skin. Humming to myself, the dance to end him began. Master Skull charged at me, his blade aimed for my throat. Spinning around his strikes, the energy built in the air. Horror rounded his eyes, elements of angel magic granting me the grace to strike his cheek. Stumbling back, clammy sweat drenched his skin.
“No! No!” He pleaded while scratching at his peeling face, the bastard backing into a wall. Pushing off the rock, my body flipped through the air. Fully expecting his defense, my boots twirled down his blade. Pushing off the hilt, rapid spins of my fans over my wrists had the feathers aimed for him. Flicking them towards his neck, the sharp edges cut through his neck like butter. Grabbing his head last minute, the fans weren’t the deadliest item. Hugging him close to me, harsh memories haunted my mind. Raising my hand in the air, a snap of my fingers had the feathers piercing us both. Attempting to push me off, every poison known to kill angels coursed through our bodies. Gripping him with all the strength I had in me, the feathers kept coming. Our blood mixed, one spell remained.
“Undo what was vowed.” I wheezed, his body collapsing into my arms. “Make my blood the deadliest venom. Strike the enemy underneath me.” Sinking to our knees, silent tears cascaded from my eyes as the venom took its hold on him. Foam poured from his lips, my trembling hands pulling his head onto my lap.
“Why?” He coughed with a weary smile, seeming happy to die. “Why give me a nice ending after all I did to you?” Smiling through the blood pouring from every hole in my face, my compassion could never let a soul receive a horrible ending. As much as I despised him, he looked so innocent in this tragic moment.
“No matter your sins, a peaceful ending is always deserved.” I whispered through another shiver, feeling death’s arms around my shoulder. “All I ever wanted was for the world to be peaceful. Lay with me until you draw your last breath, friend.” The landscape doubled, his hand dropping to the rock. Catching his soul, the poor guy deserved a chance. Struggling to my feet, the wall keeping the others from me glitched out. Limping over to the others, I pressed his soul into Lantern’s palms. Perhaps a better life would guide him in the right direction.
“His life was hell so give him a second shot down on Earth. Please.” I wept dejectedly, cupping my sides as protests parted his lips. “Don’t argue. I wouldn’t be any better than him if I didn’t do this. If he fucks up again, I will kill him myself.” Their faces blurred with my tears, a rough darkness stealing me away.
Standing in a field of stunning flowers, the colorful blossoms tickled my fingertips. A familiar voice had me spinning on my heels, a healthy looking Raveno ran his hand through his hair. Fussing with his suit, a sad smile lingered on his lips. Smashing into his body, his arms buried me into a desperate bear hug. Cupping my face, tears poured down his chin. Sliding his hand down to my bracelet, his head cocked to the left. Tracing his fingers over the cracks, pride glistened in his eyes.
“Now isn’t your time.” He sobbed softly, my head shaking. “Someday we will meet again but not today.” My lips parted in protest, his hand covering my mouth. Curling my hand around his, part of me wanted to stay.
“I didn’t die for you to die.” He spoke simply, tucking a loose piece of hair behind my ear. “Remember that I love you with all of my feathers and lead the universe in the right direction. Goodbye isn’t forever.” Our eyes flitted to the glowing crystals, a blinding light sending me out of the dimension.
Sucking in a deep breath, a quick glance around me had my bedroom walls greeting me. Swinging my feet over the edge of the bed, a simple white cotton dress hugged my body flawlessly. Stumbling into the elevator, the damn thing couldn’t move fast enough. Jaws hit the ground at the sight of me, half of them looking like they had seen a ghost. Long wild waves floated with each step, my mind wondering how much time had passed. Scanning the crowd for Wisty, my heart sank at the lack of his presence. Running through the market, the chaos died down at the door of my father’s home. Banging on the door, the color drained from my father’s face. Ravy recognized me, her tiny hands reaching for me. Clutching her close to my chest, a sigh of relief poured from my lips at how small she still was. Collapsing into his arms, his tears soaked the top of my head. Helping me in, his hands sat me down in the chair.
“How long has it been?” I choked out through a wall of tears, his trembling hands scrunching up the hem of his suit jacket. “How long?” Sinking into the chair next to me, his office door burst open. Wisty plucked me from my seat, his strong arms burying me into a bear hug. More tears dripped down my cheek, my wet eyes meeting his. Cupping my face, his hands shook as bad as my father’s. Kissing me feverishly, his hands refused to let my face go. Happy to see him, my heart fluttered with pure bliss.
“Don’t you ever pull that shit again.” He berated me with his real smile, his thumbs wiping away my tears. “You are lucky that Vivra was able to keep you in a coma.” Mumbling an earnest apology, the door burst open again. Wisty’s eyes rolled, the rest of the council fretting over me. Stepping back, he gave them space. Basking in the warmth, a noise had me bursting from their circle. Music played in the street, curiosity glistened in my eyes. Running over to the window, my real smile illuminated my features. A banner reading welcome back stole my heart away, Teas flipping into the room.
“Come along and celebrate the festival in your honor.” She chirped cheerfully, dropping my worn boots by my feet. Sliding them on as Sunny spun in, her palms pressed together. Letting them guide me into the next part of my life, the universe was mine to run.

Later that night, while everyone was asleep, Himiko was in her magic room, preparing a spicy love potion. As she did, she recalled the moment Kokichi had his arms wrapped around her that morning, and how he murmured in her ear. She replayed that moment in her mind over and over again all day, so much that she couldn't even focus on her schoolwork. She squealed to herself with excitement as she added Kokichi's hair into the cauldron. When she stirred, the water in the pot became the same rich purple it did before, indicating that it was time to pour it into a potion bottle. After she did, she glanced back at her spellbook at the hot and steamy love potion. At first, she thought against making one, but curiosity got the best of her. She washed out her cauldron and filled it up with water again to boil it. After labeling the sweet love potion bottle and the spicy love potion bottle, she got to work on the hot and steamy love potion. After she added the ingredients and Kokichi's strand of hair, causing the potion to turn purple, she poured it into a bottle and labeled it.
"Nyeh...all done," she said to herself, dusting her hands off with satisfaction. She poured the spicy love potion into a cup and added the magical sleeping powder. Before drinking it, however, she went up to her and Tenko's room. She placed her cup on her nightstand and tiptoed quickly and quietly over to Miu and Kaede's room to get some duct tape from Miu's desk. She rushed back to her room and started duct taping Tenko's wrists to the railings of her bed's headboard so she wouldn't interrupt Himiko's dream this time. Fortunately, Tenko was a heavy sleeper, so Himiko was able to get the job done without fear of Tenko waking up. Then, she duct taped Tenko's mouth in case Tenko decided to call out for help in the morning after realizing she couldn't move her wrists. Feeling satisfied with her handiwork, Himiko went over to her bed and snuggled underneath the covers before drinking her potion. Then, she drifted right off to sleep.
Himiko opened her eyes. She was lying on the floor. Around her was darkness, save for the lone spotlight that was shining down on her. She heard subtle music playing. It sounded like pop, but with a flamenco twist to it. She sat up slowly and gasped at what she was wearing. A large, red, ruffled flamenco dress with the skirt parted from the top of her right thigh. Her shoulders were exposed, and covering her chest was a long, ruffled collar. On her feet were a pair of black heels. She reached up to touch her hair, which was adorned with a large, deep red rose. Attached to her ears were a pair of large hoop earrings.
"I've never seen anything more beautiful in my life," murmured a familiar voice that made Himiko's heart pound with excitement. She gasped and turned her head in the direction of the voice. As she squinted through the darkness, she could see the figure of someone leaning against a wall. The figure was gazing back at her with mysterious violet eyes that glowed seductively in the darkness.
"Kokichi..." Himiko breathed, placing her hand on her chest. She didn't know how or why, but she didn't feel like her normal shy and timid self. She felt rather flirtatious and playful. Did the potion alter some of her personality, too, or was she simply feeling more comfortable with herself in her dreams than she did in real life? She placed her hands on the floor behind her, leaning back on them. She lifted her right leg and rested it on her left knee as if inviting Kokichi over to her. Kokichi grinned and glided over to her, swiveling his hips as he did so. Himiko could see he was wearing a white, long-sleeved collared shirt with the top buttons opened, exposing part of his chest. He was wearing long black pants and shoes. Himiko coquettishly lifted her hand for Kokichi to take it. He pulled her up and held her close to his chest, resting his hand on her waist. He gazed into her eyes with fiery passion. Himiko matched his gaze, practically begging him to sweep her off her feet.
Kokichi twirled her and released her hand, leaving Himiko to twirl away on her own. Right as she finished, Kokichi twirled and gestured to her with a flourish. Parting her skirt, Himiko flashed her leg to him. Then, she strutted over to him with cat-like grace, swaying her shoulders flirtatiously. Kokichi glided over to her and grabbed her hand while holding her waist again. Himiko placed her other hand on Kokichi's shoulder. They locked intense, passionate eyes with each other before gliding together across the dance floor. Still holding onto her hand, Kokichi swung Himiko forward away from him, the same way one might brandish a sword. Then, he twirled her back into his arms. Her back was pinned against his chest. With the hand he was holding, he held out Himiko's arm. Himiko's heart pounded against her chest as Kokichi began to kiss her arm all the up to her shoulder, and then to her neck. She gasped with elation as she turned to face him. She pressed her chest against him, and lifted her bare leg up to his waist. Kokichi caressed her thigh with his hand, slowly making his way down the rest of her leg. Himiko bit her lip rapturously and threw her head back, pressing her hands against her collar and slightly lowering it. Kokichi kissed her neck, moving his lips down her chest. Himiko frowned at him and scolded him with a seductive slap.
Kokichi twirled her, making her back press against him again. Himiko stuck her arm out to her side, her other hand placed sassily on her hip. Kokichi took Himiko's outstretched hand, and placed his other hand on Himiko's waist. Together, they strutted across the dance floor. Feeling particularly playful, Himiko released herself from his grasp. She twirled around and bumped him out of the way with her butt. Eyeing him with her intense gaze, she twirled her wrists around each other, moving them all the way up above her head. She then brought them back down, grabbing hold of her skirt, and lifting her head to Kokichi. With one hand, she gestured to him with her finger to come closer. Reemerging from the darkness, Kokichi danced back into the spotlight towards her, swiveling his hips. This time, he had a rose in his mouth. Himiko opened her mouth and tapped it, pretending to yawn with boredom. Kokichi raised a seductive eyebrow at her, as if accepting her challenge to make things more interesting.

He then grabbed her hand, twirled her, and pulled her close to his chest. Himiko batted her eyelashes and swayed her shoulders, beckoning to Kokichi to follow through with his next move. He dipped her while staring deeply into her eyes. Himiko stared back at him with excitement as he pressed his lips against hers. Himiko felt her heart hammering. His lips were soft and warm, just like she'd always dreamed they'd be. She gasped and moaned softly when she felt his tongue brush against hers as he transferred the rose into her mouth. Himiko wrapped her teeth around the rose's stem. Kokichi lifted her back up. Keeping his eyes locked with hers, he pressed his chest against Himiko's and swiveled his pelvis against hers as he danced with her. Himiko followed suit, caressing his face with her hands.
Kokichi grabbed one of her hands, and twirled her one last time, sending her spinning across the dance floor. He ran up to her right as she finished twirling and tossing the rose aside. He pressed his forehead against hers as he pulled his shirt completely open, ripping off the remaining buttons and exposing his chest. Chests heaving, they gazed longingly and intensely into each other's eyes.
"I love you, Himiko," Kokichi breathed, pressing Himiko's chest against his.
"Nyeh...I love you, too, Kokichi," Himiko panted as Kokichi pulled her into a passionate kiss. She pressed her hands against his chest, which felt warm and firm. Kokichi kissed her cheek before tucking her hair behind her ear to murmur into it.
"I love you so much," he said in a low, seductive voice. He slowly caressed her hair, letting it run across his fingers before kissing it softly. Himiko uttered a happy squeal before Kokichi tore himself away from her. He twirled and struck a pose before clapping his hand one time. A puff of smoke surrounded him, and when it dissipated, he had vanished.
Himiko woke up. Her room was still dark, but light was streaming in through her closed window. Morning had come, but Tenko hadn't opened the window to let the the sunlight in, yet.
"Mmmphh!! Mmmmphhmmm!!" came the sound of a muffled voice. Himiko turned to see Tenko frantically calling out to her through the duct tape with her wrists still tied to the headboard. Himiko's plan had worked! She was able to get through a dream with Kokichi successfully without Tenko interrupting it. She sighed happily and looked up at the ceiling.
"Nyeeeh...life is good," she murmured to herself.
Part Six
Himiko cruised through school in a great mood. She even found herself skipping through the hallways, which is something she rarely did. She was on her way with Angie and Tenko to one of their classes.
"Himiko, even though you're the purest, most innocent girl in the world and I forgive you, all you had to do was ask me not to wake you up," Tenko mumbled. "I didn't think you'd resort to taping me to my bed! See?! This is why you shouldn't like degenerate males like Kokichi! He's a bad influence on you!"
"I didn't do it because of Kokichi's influence," Himiko said. "I did it because if I told you the night before not to wake me, you would have forgotten about in the morning, and you would have woken me up anyway."
"You do have a set routine, Tenko," Angie agreed. "You do things automatically right as you wake up!"
"Well, I would have remembered for Himiko," Tenko muttered.
"I couldn't take that chance," Himiko said. "That's why I had to do what I did." Suddenly, Himiko paused. "Nyeh...you guys go on ahead. I'm gonna go get a drink of water." Angie and Tenko continued to walk to class as Himiko leaned over the water fountain and pressed the button. As she drank the water, she noticed someone lean on the wall right next to the fountain. When she looked up, her heart skipped a beat. It was Kokichi.
"Nee-heehee...well, you're in a good mood today," he remarked. Remembering her dream last night, Himiko surprisingly felt emboldened.
"Nyeh...that's right," she said. "What's it to you?" Kokichi raised his brow in amusement.
"Ohhh...someone's also feelin' a bit sassy today, too!" he said.
"Do you have a problem with that?" Himiko asked.
"Nope! I like sassy Himiko!" Kokichi replied.
"Nyeh...lemme guess...that's a lie," Himiko said.
"Is it?" Kokichi replied with a mysterious grin. "Do you want it to be a lie...Himiko? Or...would you like that to be the truth?" Himiko's heart started pounding, and her hands became clammy. There he went, making her weak at the knees again, just by saying her name. Her bold exterior began to slip.
"Uh...I, um..." she stammered, her mouth feeling dry. She clenched her fists, forcing herself to remain calm. "W-Why does that matter to you?!"
"Because I know your seeecret," Kokichi teased. Himiko rolled her eyes.
"Nyeeeh...this again?!" she groaned. "I-I don't have a secret already! Just drop it!"
"Nee-heehee...wow! You're really persistent, aren't you?" Kokichi said. "But that's okay! I'll make you reveal your secret to me one day, Himiko."
"I don't...have...a secret," Himiko growled, inching closer to his face. She was too nervous to realize how close to his face she was. Kokichi smirked at her.
"Whatever you say...Himiko," he murmured softly, giving her a quick kiss on the nose, and sauntered off before Himiko could have a chance to respond. She squeaked and blinked her eyes rapidly in shock. A blush formed on her face as she processed what just happened.
"He...kissed me," she breathed to herself. "Nyeeeh...he k-kissed me! On the nose!" She squealed and bounced around, happily kicking her feet. "Oh, my gosh! Oh, my gosh! Oh, my gosh!" She clutched her head in disbelief. Many thoughts were going through her mind. Does he actually like me, too?! Is he lying?! Does he actually want me to confess my feelings for him?! Does he actually know about my crush on him?! What would happen if I told him?! Would he be okay with it?! Would he be disgusted?! She didn't know the answers to any of those questions, but she knew one thing for sure: "Nyeeeh...I'm never washing this nose again!" she exclaimed, skipping off to class.
***
Later that evening, Himiko was in her magic room, replaying the "kissing scene" between her and Kokichi in her mind. She squealed and smiled to herself each time she thought about it. The last potion she had to use was the hot and steamy love potion, but she had to admit, she was still scared of using that one. She didn't want to think of herself as a naughty girl. If her spicy love dream contained Kokichi kissing and touching parts of her she never thought would be touched or kissed by him, she couldn't imagine what the hot and steamy love dream would contain. She was surprised at herself for making a hot and steamy love potion in the first place, let alone a spicy love dream potion. Did she have it that bad for Kokichi? Maybe she did, but she felt rather dirty for admitting it. Instead, she decided to test the hot and steamy love potion on someone else. And she knew the perfect person to test it out on.
***
The girls of Casa V3 were having their monthly slumber party, this time in Maki and Kirumi's room. Himiko volunteered to pour the drinks, while Kirumi made the food and snacks. Himiko made grape juice so that when she gave her potion to her test subject, they wouldn't know the difference between their drink and everyone else's. Himiko had to admit that she felt a little mischievous, as if she were pulling a prank. Kind of like how Kokichi would pull a prank on someone. She felt that he'd be proud of her if he knew what she was doing. The thought gave her warm, fuzzy feelings. Himiko poured the potion into a pink glass cup so that she'd know which cup the potion was in. Right after she poured in the sleeping powder, she then headed upstairs and joined the other girls.
"Nyeh...grape juice for everyone!" she announced.
"Seriously?! Grape juice?!" Miu spat. "That ain't the proper drink for a slumber party, titless!"
"It's fine," Maki said. "At least we have something to drink." Everyone thanked Himiko as she handed each of the girls their glasses. Himiko handed the cup of her potion to Miu. Miu scoffed and snatched the cup from her.
"Nyeh...don't worry, Miu," Himiko assured. "You'll like it."
"Oh, yeah?" Miu said. "I'll bet it tastes like shit!"
"I added extra sugar to it," Himiko lied. "Why don't you taste it and find out?"
"Fine," Miu grumbled. She took a sip of the potion, then licked her lips. "Huh...hey, this is actually kinda good! You musta added so much sugar that it feels kinda fizzy...like grape soda!" She then downed the entire potion before letting out a satisfied belch. "Hey, half-pint! That was actually really good! Guess just because ya don't have any tits doesn't mean ya don't know you're way around the kitchen!"
"Nyeh...that's the power of maaagic!" Himiko replied mysteriously. She then waited as the effects of the potion started to kick in.

So I have gotten a lot of feedback from this forum that I am “too dramatic” and “draw too much attention”. So the other day I decided to be low key. No drama. Just play. Be polite, but only speak to pit staff and dealers when spoken to first. No comments about “bad shoes” or justifications for buying in when I’m losing, or raising bets because “I feel lucky”. No dramatic dances when I win or “fucking ay!!” when I lose.
And Shit happened. My first backoff at my favorite casino. No clue how it happened! My max bet was only at +3. Never took Insurance. The session ended promptly at 3 hours with the back off.
It was a terrible session. I had to leave 3 shoes because the count was so negative - I just literally took a bathroom break. Once I immediately came back to the same dealer. “All the other tables suck.” I said. I was down $2500 when I got the tap.
My question - assuming I change my look, how soon can I go back, and go on a weekend morning instead of the other day’s school night session? I am thinking six months. Shorter? I do not play rated.
Also, my wife loves to go to this place to rack up points and claim prizes - will they see me if I accompany her, but obviously do not play blackjack?

I’d just reached that twilight state where the sedatives made everything seem slightly surreal – the pictures in the magazine I was holding seemed to be moving, and I was pointing them out to my wife, Marie-Anne, who suppressed a laugh in response.
So, for a moment I’d wondered if I’d simply imagined the emaciated man that had stumbled inside the hospital waiting room – but my wife appeared to see him too, because her smile faded as he began pounding on the plastic barrier at the check-in desk. We stared awkwardly as he shouted a jumbled string of nonsense at the poor hospital employee behind it.
His head snapped in our direction and as he approached us, his words finally coagulated into a coherent sentence.
“There’s something in here with me, please get it out.”
Before we could react, a nurse – who was wearing the brightest smiley face scrubs I’d ever seen – appeared and eyed the man warily, before turning to us cheerfully re-explain the procedure.
As she led me towards the double doors, I shot one worried look back at Marie-Anne – despite the waiting room being nearly empty, the guy had taken my seat as soon as I’d vacated it.
He appeared to have calmed down substantially, but I didn’t care for the too-wide grin he wore as he stared at her, or how he rubbed at his eyes in those frantic, twitchy motions. My wife smiled at me, gave me her ‘I’ll be fine’ look as she waved me on and pulled out a well-worn paperback.
My nurse and I passed a young woman in a hospital bed who smiled at me serenely, her head titled. There was something unsettling about her that I couldn’t put my finger on – maybe it was that unblinking gaze she kept trained on me, or her irregular, gulping breaths – as if she were still trying to figure out the art of breathing. For a moment, I almost thought I saw curling, delicate black threads emerging her lower eyelids, but I chalked that up to the sedation meds at the time.
.
It took me a moment to realize where I was.
I don’t remember much about the MRI itself, or for how long I had been trapped inside that tight cylinder – all I knew was that it was late afternoon when I went in, and pitch black outside by the time I came out.
I had 'come to' to the gentle whirring of the machine – a sound that would’ve almost been peaceful if I’d been hearing it from anywhere other than from inside that dark and suffocating tube. In my post sedation stupor, I instinctively tried to sit up and my nose made hard contact with the inside of the machine.
They had been kind enough to approve sedating me for the hour and a half long scan due to my claustrophobia but then apparently, they had just…forgotten about me? I pounded on the inside of that awful white tunnel and screamed until I was hoarse, yet still, no one came for me.
At one point, I felt moment of hope when cold, clammy hands tugged indelicately at my ankles, but eventually my would be rescuer seemed to have given up, because not long afterwards I was alone again.
I thought of Marie-Anne sitting in the waiting room and didn’t know how everyone could’ve forgotten about me – surely, she would’ve been worried when several hours had passed, and I still hadn’t returned?
I eventually managed to calm down enough to release the belt, and attempted to slowly inch my way out, feet first. I tried to keep my eyes shut and my breathing steady – tried not to focus on how my face was so close to the inside of the tunnel that I could feel my own breath echoed back onto it. I told myself the space, with its stale air and walls that nearly touched my shoulders on either side was not closing in around me. I tried to ignore the friction burns forming where my bare flesh drug against the interior.
Finally, I made it out to find that I was alone in the unlit room. For a moment, I wondered if the encounter with whomever had visited me in the darkness was just a fabrication of my still-drugged mind. The dried, dark residue around my ankles in the shape of long, slender fingers seemed to indicate otherwise.
The eerie silence, other than the thrum of the machine, was quickly shattered by awful, pained screaming that floated from down the dark hall. It was filled with misery, hopelessness – made even worse as it seamlessly transitioned into laughter.
That sick laughter never stopped – mirthless, crazed, it continued for the duration of my clumsy trek back towards the elevator.
At one point, I thought I saw small eyes gleaming at me from behind the glass panel in one of the darkened rooms, but I assured myself it was the last of the drugs in my system messing with my head.
Just the meds.
The light of the elevator was a welcome reprieve from the dark hallway – at least until I noticed the crimson streaks painted along the buttons and walls.
Once free from it, I shambled back towards the waiting room until I saw something that made me stop cold.
The handprints told a story, sloppily written in still drying blood on what was once an off-white floor.
Pull. Pull. Drag.
Based on the uneven and messy tracks, it seemed as if someone had been hauling themselves down the hallway using just their hands, the rest of them dragging along the dingy linoleum, leaving streaky crimson in their wake. The area was littered with what looked like long, black hairs that seemed to move on their own in response to my approach. At that point, I really, really hoped that I was just hallucinating.
The trail of blood and pulp looked to originate from the waiting room, and then continued past the point where the hallway forked out of sight. Based on the sheer volume of blood they’d lost, I wasn’t sure how they’d even managed to make it that far without passing out from shock.
The smell of it was overwhelming, inescapable because I’d accidentally stepped into the trail and could feel the still warm liquid as it seeped into my hospital-issued socks. I still couldn’t blink both my eyes in unison – but that very real-feeling sensation coupled with absolute lack of people and symphony of beeps emerging from the rooms on either side of the narrow hall around me was making it more difficult to convince myself that I was simply drugged out of my mind.
After a moment I realized that I could still faintly make out the wet dragging sound of whomever was crawling through the darkness.
Still woozy, and unsure if I could do anything for them, I just called out into the distance that I was going to get help. The sound of raw meat on linoleum paused for a few moments before resuming, growing louder. As if they’d changed direction and were heading back towards me.
At that realization, I suddenly felt dread gnawing at me, and I knew that I didn’t want them to reach me – I knew that something terrible would happen if they did.
I tried to pick up my pace – motivated by the increasingly loud, sickening, sound of pursuit behind me – as I continued my trek back towards the waiting room. The pattern left in blood from my still-saturated socks confirmed that I was weaving a bit as I walked. If I were there alone, I would’ve hauled ass out the emergency exit door as soon as I heard that scream – caught a glimpse of whatever that was lurking in the darkness in the floor below, but I could see Marie-Anne’s lime green hatchback in the parking lot through a window in the hall.
She was still inside, and I had to find her.
For a moment, a sick thought crossed my mind, maybe I already had found her – but no, I assured myself – my wife was not the thing crawling down the empty hallway behind me. She was fine. She’d still be sitting right where I’d seen her last.
Some of the doors to the occupied rooms were just slightly ajar, and the sounds coming from within, well… I almost preferred the laughter from the floor below in comparison.
I finally came across the nurses’ station – the one I had remembered being the last thing between myself and the doors to the waiting room – but what I saw there quickly killed any sense of relief that had been forming.
There were feet sticking out from just behind the counter that moved and twitched irregularly – the legs seemed to dance to an otherworldly melody that only their owner could hear.
Despite my better judgement, I stepped over the mess of gore to take a closer look.
I immediately regretted it.
I saw my nurse – the one who had taken me for the scan. I was so out of it before that I’d forgotten her name, but not her kind expression that had matched the faces on her trippy neon scrubs.
That smile, it was long gone.
There was still a jagged bit of ribs left above the hip bone but everything beyond that – the rest of her – was just… missing.
I stared, uncomprehending at first – it took a moment before I realized that the macabre dance was the result of something moving around just inside the gaping wound in what remained of her torso.
Many of the now familiar delicate hair-like threads spilled out of her body, moving in unison as the small tendrils looked to be in the process of slowly re-forming her missing ribs and spine.
It was like watching an otherworldly 3D printer for flesh and bone.
I had to tightly clamp a hand over my mouth – I was worried that if I started screaming, I wouldn’t be able to stop – and took a last long, sad look at her blood-soaked scrubs and flailing remains.
I sped up, and continued onward clumsily.
Despite what I’d told myself, I almost couldn’t believe it when I found my wife still sitting on a sticky, saturated chair in the waiting room. Her sweater was slashed in places and stained – an entire arm of it was missing. Spatters and small droplets freckled her cheeks as she stared, her eyes unfocused, at the book she was now holding upside down. She looked entirely uninjured and, yes, there was a fleeting moment during which I wondered where the blood around her had come from, but frankly I was too relieved to question it.
The entire room was in disarray, chairs toppled over, cushions ripped, but she didn’t seem even remotely fazed by the carnage around her.
I tried not to stare at the single sneaker that peeked out from under her chair, or the foot that was still inside.
She studied me for a moment before she seemed to recognize me – as if she had to flip through a series of mental flashcards first, but at the time I figured it was due whatever horrible things she had recently bore witness to.
As I led her towards the exit, I heard tapping behind the plastic panel at the check in desk. I made the mistake of looking and saw the young hospital employee from before, gripping the desk in a desperate attempt to stay upright. Those thin, black tendril-like threads emerged from empty sockets and the cavernous gap where his lower jaw had once been, weaving together and seamlessly blending into his skin before my eyes – repairing what likely should have been lethal injuries.
We were so close to escaping, when I heard a door open behind us. I ducked behind some chairs and tried to pull Marie-Anne down with me, but she stood firm. Shoes and the tattered, stained hems of brightly colored smiley face scrubs came into view – it seemed as if my nurse had simply got up and strolled away, unperturbed by the minor inconvenience of the entire top half of her body missing. My wife stared, but didn’t react at all to whatever it was that she was witnessing, and to my immense relief, the nurse made no attempt to approach her.
Eventually, what remained of the poor woman walked out the front doors, and disappeared into the darkness beyond the lights of the parking lot.
We did finally make it to our car, but we’re still here.
I can’t drive and Marie-Anne has just been sitting in the driver’s seat, staring at me. She’s been so quiet except for an occasional loud and irregular breath; I can’t remember the last time I saw her blink but I am starting to notice what appear to be those delicate black threads spill from under her eyes.
I called 911, but keep getting the dispatchers in the next county over. They keep routing me back to my own, but no one is answering.
I miss those fleeting moments when I thought that waking up trapped in the machine after a full-body MRI was going to be the worst part of my day.
I just want to go home.
I’m confused, I’m exhausted, and I have worst itch forming behind my eyes.
JFR

I’d just reached that twilight state where the sedatives made everything seem slightly surreal – the pictures in the magazine I was holding seemed to be moving, and I was pointing them out to my wife, Marie-Anne, who suppressed a laugh in response.
So, for a moment I’d wondered if I’d simply imagined the emaciated man that had stumbled inside the hospital waiting room – but my wife appeared to see him too, because her smile faded as he began pounding on the plastic barrier at the check-in desk. We stared awkwardly as he shouted a jumbled string of nonsense at the poor hospital employee behind it.
His head snapped in our direction and as he approached us, his words finally coagulated into a coherent sentence.
“There’s something in here with me, please get it out.”
Before we could react, a nurse – who was wearing the brightest smiley face scrubs I’d ever seen – appeared and eyed the man warily, before turning to us cheerfully re-explain the procedure.
As she led me towards the double doors, I shot one worried look back at Marie-Anne – despite the waiting room being nearly empty, the guy had taken my seat as soon as I’d vacated it.
He appeared to have calmed down substantially, but I didn’t care for the too-wide grin he wore as he stared at her, or how he rubbed at his eyes in those frantic, twitchy motions. My wife smiled at me, gave me her ‘I’ll be fine’ look as she waved me on and pulled out a well-worn paperback.
My nurse and I passed a young woman in a hospital bed who smiled at me serenely, her head titled. There was something unsettling about her that I couldn’t put my finger on – maybe it was that unblinking gaze she kept trained on me, or her irregular, gulping breaths – as if she were still trying to figure out the art of breathing. For a moment, I almost thought I saw curling, delicate black threads emerging her lower eyelids, but I chalked that up to the sedation meds at the time.
.
It took me a moment to realize where I was.
I don’t remember much about the MRI itself, or for how long I had been trapped inside that tight cylinder – all I knew was that it was late afternoon when I went in, and pitch black outside by the time I came out.
I had 'come to' to the gentle whirring of the machine – a sound that would’ve almost been peaceful if I’d been hearing it from anywhere other than from inside that dark and suffocating tube. In my post sedation stupor, I instinctively tried to sit up and my nose made hard contact with the inside of the machine.
They had been kind enough to approve sedating me for the hour and a half long scan due to my claustrophobia but then apparently, they had just…forgotten about me? I pounded on the inside of that awful white tunnel and screamed until I was hoarse, yet still, no one came for me.
At one point, I felt moment of hope when cold, clammy hands tugged indelicately at my ankles, but eventually my would be rescuer seemed to have given up, because not long afterwards I was alone again.
I thought of Marie-Anne sitting in the waiting room and didn’t know how everyone could’ve forgotten about me – surely, she would’ve been worried when several hours had passed, and I still hadn’t returned?
I eventually managed to calm down enough to release the belt, and attempted to slowly inch my way out, feet first. I tried to keep my eyes shut and my breathing steady – tried not to focus on how my face was so close to the inside of the tunnel that I could feel my own breath echoed back onto it. I told myself the space, with its stale air and walls that nearly touched my shoulders on either side was not closing in around me. I tried to ignore the friction burns forming where my bare flesh drug against the interior.
Finally, I made it out to find that I was alone in the unlit room. For a moment, I wondered if the encounter with whomever had visited me in the darkness was just a fabrication of my still-drugged mind. The dried, dark residue around my ankles in the shape of long, slender fingers seemed to indicate otherwise.
The eerie silence, other than the thrum of the machine, was quickly shattered by awful, pained screaming that floated from down the dark hall. It was filled with misery, hopelessness – made even worse as it seamlessly transitioned into laughter.
That sick laughter never stopped – mirthless, crazed, it continued for the duration of my clumsy trek back towards the elevator.
At one point, I thought I saw small eyes gleaming at me from behind the glass panel in one of the darkened rooms, but I assured myself it was the last of the drugs in my system messing with my head.
Just the meds.
The light of the elevator was a welcome reprieve from the dark hallway – at least until I noticed the crimson streaks painted along the buttons and walls.
Once free from it, I shambled back towards the waiting room until I saw something that made me stop cold.
The handprints told a story, sloppily written in still drying blood on what was once an off-white floor.
Pull. Pull. Drag.
Based on the uneven and messy tracks, it seemed as if someone had been hauling themselves down the hallway using just their hands, the rest of them dragging along the dingy linoleum, leaving streaky crimson in their wake. The area was littered with what looked like long, black hairs that seemed to move on their own in response to my approach. At that point, I really, really hoped that I was just hallucinating.
The trail of blood and pulp looked to originate from the waiting room, and then continued past the point where the hallway forked out of sight. Based on the sheer volume of blood they’d lost, I wasn’t sure how they’d even managed to make it that far without passing out from shock.
The smell of it was overwhelming, inescapable because I’d accidentally stepped into the trail and could feel the still warm liquid as it seeped into my hospital-issued socks. I still couldn’t blink both my eyes in unison – but that very real-feeling sensation coupled with absolute lack of people and symphony of beeps emerging from the rooms on either side of the narrow hall around me was making it more difficult to convince myself that I was simply drugged out of my mind.
After a moment I realized that I could still faintly make out the wet dragging sound of whomever was crawling through the darkness.
Still woozy, and unsure if I could do anything for them, I just called out into the distance that I was going to get help. The sound of raw meat on linoleum paused for a few moments before resuming, growing louder. As if they’d changed direction and were heading back towards me.
At that realization, I suddenly felt dread gnawing at me, and I knew that I didn’t want them to reach me – I knew that something terrible would happen if they did.
I tried to pick up my pace – motivated by the increasingly loud, sickening, sound of pursuit behind me – as I continued my trek back towards the waiting room. The pattern left in blood from my still-saturated socks confirmed that I was weaving a bit as I walked. If I were there alone, I would’ve hauled ass out the emergency exit door as soon as I heard that scream – caught a glimpse of whatever that was lurking in the darkness in the floor below, but I could see Marie-Anne’s lime green hatchback in the parking lot through a window in the hall.
She was still inside, and I had to find her.
For a moment, a sick thought crossed my mind, maybe I already had found her – but no, I assured myself – my wife was not the thing crawling down the empty hallway behind me. She was fine. She’d still be sitting right where I’d seen her last.
Some of the doors to the occupied rooms were just slightly ajar, and the sounds coming from within, well… I almost preferred the laughter from the floor below in comparison.
I finally came across the nurses’ station – the one I had remembered being the last thing between myself and the doors to the waiting room – but what I saw there quickly killed any sense of relief that had been forming.
There were feet sticking out from just behind the counter that moved and twitched irregularly – the legs seemed to dance to an otherworldly melody that only their owner could hear.
Despite my better judgement, I stepped over the mess of gore to take a closer look.
I immediately regretted it.
I saw my nurse – the one who had taken me for the scan. I was so out of it before that I’d forgotten her name, but not her kind expression that had matched the faces on her trippy neon scrubs.
That smile, it was long gone.
There was still a jagged bit of ribs left above the hip bone but everything beyond that – the rest of her – was just… missing.
I stared, uncomprehending at first – it took a moment before I realized that the macabre dance was the result of something moving around just inside the gaping wound in what remained of her torso.
Many of the now familiar delicate hair-like threads spilled out of her body, moving in unison as the small tendrils looked to be in the process of slowly re-forming her missing ribs and spine.
It was like watching an otherworldly 3D printer for flesh and bone.
I had to tightly clamp a hand over my mouth – I was worried that if I started screaming, I wouldn’t be able to stop – and took a last long, sad look at her blood-soaked scrubs and flailing remains.
I sped up, and continued onward clumsily.
Despite what I’d told myself, I almost couldn’t believe it when I found my wife still sitting on a sticky, saturated chair in the waiting room. Her sweater was slashed in places and stained – an entire arm of it was missing. Spatters and small droplets freckled her cheeks as she stared, her eyes unfocused, at the book she was now holding upside down. She looked entirely uninjured and, yes, there was a fleeting moment during which I wondered where the blood around her had come from, but frankly I was too relieved to question it.
The entire room was in disarray, chairs toppled over, cushions ripped, but she didn’t seem even remotely fazed by the carnage around her.
I tried not to stare at the single sneaker that peeked out from under her chair, or the foot that was still inside.
She studied me for a moment before she seemed to recognize me – as if she had to flip through a series of mental flashcards first, but at the time I figured it was due whatever horrible things she had recently bore witness to.
As I led her towards the exit, I heard tapping behind the plastic panel at the check in desk. I made the mistake of looking and saw the young hospital employee from before, gripping the desk in a desperate attempt to stay upright. Those thin, black tendril-like threads emerged from empty sockets and the cavernous gap where his lower jaw had once been, weaving together and seamlessly blending into his skin before my eyes – repairing what likely should have been lethal injuries.
We were so close to escaping, when I heard a door open behind us. I ducked behind some chairs and tried to pull Marie-Anne down with me, but she stood firm. Shoes and the tattered, stained hems of brightly colored smiley face scrubs came into view – it seemed as if my nurse had simply got up and strolled away, unperturbed by the minor inconvenience of the entire top half of her body missing. My wife stared, but didn’t react at all to whatever it was that she was witnessing, and to my immense relief, the nurse made no attempt to approach her.
Eventually, what remained of the poor woman walked out the front doors, and disappeared into the darkness beyond the lights of the parking lot.
We did finally make it to our car, but we’re still here.
I can’t drive and Marie-Anne has just been sitting in the driver’s seat, staring at me. She’s been so quiet except for an occasional loud and irregular breath; I can’t remember the last time I saw her blink but I am starting to notice what appear to be those delicate black threads spill from under her eyes.
I called 911, but keep getting the dispatchers in the next county over. They keep routing me back to my own, but no one is answering.
I miss those fleeting moments when I thought that waking up trapped in the machine after a full-body MRI was going to be the worst part of my day.
I just want to go home.
I’m confused, I’m exhausted, and I have worst itch forming behind my eyes.

Wanted to try something different today. This is a follow-up of not just one, but TWO previous one-shot (or so I thought at the time) stories of mine; if you haven’t already, feel free to read them first if you want a bit of background context, but it’s not necessary to understand what’s going on in this story.
As always, I hope you enjoy :)
——
Gakdra nervously paced in her transport pod, dreading the inevitability of the doors opening when she arrived at her destination. Then, she suddenly felt a familiar touch, and an even more familiar voice in her ear.
“Buttercup, at this rate you’re going to wear out your shoes.”
A weak smile crept onto Gakdra’s face as she glanced down to see Jennifer carefully hugging her from behind, placing herself perfectly to avoid her sharp quills.
Jennifer was a human who she had first met in the second year of what her adoptive human parents called “high school,” and had known for several years since as they both went through college and beyond.
A human her age who had tutored her after school, so as to help her overcome the difficulties her stunted education (courtesy of the chaos of the foster care system) brought her. Sessions that eventually became completely unnecessary as Gakdra caught up. …A fact that both parties were well aware of (and aware that they were both aware), but neither side made any attempt to acknowledge.
A human who didn’t seem repulsed by her quills, pitch-black eyes or needle-like teeth, much less the various chemicals deemed deadly neurotoxins by the galaxy at large that her kind both needed to breathe and produced from their very bodies.
A human who had insisted on getting the risky saryncite-inoculation treatments, after deciding that it might help Gakdra “learn” better if she was in the same room with her, instead of separated by sheets of diamondglass and countless layers of airtight filters.
…A human that had wasted no time in finding out that despite her inoculation against the toxins saryncites produced, her lips nonetheless still tingled when firmly pressed against Gakdra’s own.
Gakdra sighed and spoke, her auto-translator filling in the gaps for the unique language saryncites used, albeit one only the females of the species could speak audibly.*

• The males’ silence and use of a bioluminescent organ tucked in a chest cavity for “lightspeaking” in colors outside the visible range of prey species on their homeworld better served their evolutionary role as ambush hunters, in one of the most bizarre cases of sexual dimorphism the galaxy has to offer.

“Force of habit/routine/tic. …You know how nervous/afraid/worried I get going out in public.”
She turned and embraced her lover back, careful not to pierce Jennifer’s skin with her sharp claws as she wrapped them around her waist. Gakdra murmured more than spoke as she continued.
“I still don’t know how you do/perform/achieve it. And in front of all those people…”
“Lots and lots of practice, just like we’re doing right now for you.”
Gakdra let out a reluctant groan.
“I still wish we could just have them delivered to our home/nest/safe-place…”
“And have you miss out on a chance to chip away at that agoraphobia of yours? No.”
Jen gestured towards the planet’s scenery as they flew over it at great speeds, from wide swathes of terraformed forest greenery to massive colony-cities bustling with busy inhabitants.
“You deserve to be able to enjoy the outside world just as much as anyone else, and that means practicing doing just that until you’re not afraid of doing it anymore. …Remember what your therapist said? You just need a few accommodations here and there. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
Jen reached up and placed a hand on one of Gakdra’s snow-pale cheeks. An impressive feat, given Gakdra stood a head or two higher than her, at over two meters. Gakdra gently rested her own clawed fingers over it, her face gently nuzzling the human’s soft palm as their fingers interlocked with one another; one set clawed, one set bearing comparably soft and fragile nails.
“…Yes, I suppose you’re right/correct/factual. Doesn’t mean I enjoy the transition process of getting to that point…”
“That’s still not an excuse to put this off to the point you’ve only got a few days left until you’re completely out of your meds.”
“I know, but what was there to say/communicate/talk? It didn’t become urgent/necessary/needed until this week.”
“I consider it urgent. …You’re anxious enough while already on your meds; I don’t want to see you even risking the pain you’d go through going without them.”
Jen’s hand fell away from Gakdra’s face as the transport pod gradually began to slow, signaling their arrival. Gakdra peered out of the diamondglass windows at the pharmacy’s walls before the view was blocked by the pressurized tunnel the pod stopped in front of. It was one of only 40 pharmacies in the entire star sector with the proper equipment to facilitate servicing saryncites like herself; and given that this sector measured in the hundreds of light years across, that was saying something.
Gakdra took a deep, shaky breath before reaching for her environmental suit.
“I can/will/shall do this… I can/will/shall…”
“That’s the spirit.”
Jennifer’s eyes flicked up and down Gakdra’s body, and she spoke again; this time with a playful grin.
“…It’s certainly more fabric than I’d prefer you be wearing, but did you need any help with the suit?”
Gakdra couldn’t help but blush at Jen’s teasing as she fastened various seals and locks into place around herself.
“No, I should be fine/satisfactory/competent.”
Jen winked at her.
“Alrighty then; I suppose I’ll just have to help you out of it later…”
Suffice to say, Gakdra’s flustered cheeks were thoroughly flushed with her species’ green blood as she stepped out of the vehicle and into the pharmacy’s saryncite entrance, clad in the suit which kept those around her safe.
She shakily walked down the sterile white corridor, listening intently for any signs that her suit may have popped a leak, but she heard nothing. The silence offered little comfort; she hadn’t heard the ever-so-slight leak that had tragically claimed one of her foster fathers’ lives either-
Stop that thought. They have safeguards. I have accommodations. I deserve to experience all the galaxy has to offer, just as anyone else. They have safeguards. I have accomodations-
She continued the internal mantra her therapist had taught her as she walked until she had eventually made her way to the end of the corridor; a wall adorned with only a diamondglass window and a microphone.
Gakdra timidly rapped on the window. It took several seconds of this before she attracted the attention of the arthro* pharmacist standing at the other end of the room, whose name tag read “Zetzana Bik’du”; it was almost as if he was pointedly ignoring her. He glanced up from his tablet with an irritated glare.

• An Arthro resembles a gigantic Terran spider for the most part, albeit with only six eyes, six legs and said legs comparably being much thicker and stronger to account for the square-cube law.

Gakdra nervously swallowed.
“Hello again. I-I’m, uh- …I h-have a prescription to pick up/acquire/take-”
Zetzana dismissively waved a limb, cutting her off.
“I know, I know; this is the third time we’ve done this little song and dance. …To answer your question, no, we still don’t have it.”
It felt as though Gakdra’s heart sank into her stomach.
“W-what‽ But- …I-I reached out directly to the manufacturemakeproducer for a replacement order, and t-they-”
“I don’t know what they told you, but neither of your ‘scripts are here.”
“S-surely the medications must have b-been misplaced/misorganized/lost somewhere in the building, o-or-”
“Listen, we’ve searched this place top to bottom. The whole staff got involved. …I don’t know what to tell you, but if you want your precious meds, you’ll have to head elsewhere.”
His species’ equivalent of a sneer crept its way onto the arthro’s face.
“So go ahead and leave-exit-leave, or whatever the gobbledegook translator you’ve got wants to hear to let you know to get out of the building. …Every extra second you spend in here is another minute we have to get the air scrubbers to decontaminate the hallway.”
Desperation crept into Gakdra’s voice.
“The manufacturer s-sent/distributed/provided me video evidence of them d-delivering the order to you, and of the d-delivery of the replacement order I requested. P-please, I-”
“I could have the authorities remove you if you’d prefer, blight-breather. …Up to you.”
Gakdra was on the verge of crying, not least because of the slur she had just been subjected to, but she slowly, reluctantly turned and walked back down the hallway with as much dignity as she could muster.
…She had long-since crossed the point of tears by the time she made it back to the doors leading out to her transport pod.
As she pulled off her helmet to reveal a face streaked with the purple of her species’ tears, Jennifer looked up from her wrist-computer with alarm.
“Buttercup? What happened-‽”
“They- …t-they don’t have it again, and the p-pharmacist was- h-he…”
Gakdra started hyperventilating, stifling her attempts to explain. In an instant, Jennifer was in front of her, gently taking her by her face, forcing Gakdra to look down at her as she wiped the tears from her face.
“Buttercup. Look at me. Look into my eyes. I’m here. I’m right here. You’re ok. Look at me. Look into my eyes-”
Jennifer’s softly repeated mantra derailed Gakdra’s panic attack before it could get up to speed. It was a skill Jen had mastered early in their relationship, while they were still separated by diamondglass; her words alone were enough to calm her. …Yet another reason Gakdra was endlessly thankful for Jen being in her life.
Gakdra’s legs were wobbling under her as Jennifer led her to her seat in the pod so they could look each other in the eyes without Jen having to crane her neck up to look at her. She took a shaky breath.
“They didn’t give me the meds. They’re there, they must/should/HAVE-TO be, but the pharmacist clerk/spokesperson/representative keeps insisting they’re not, that they searched all over, a-and he w-was so unkind/mean/rude, and threatened to sic security on me, and he- …h-he called/named/insulted me a-”
Gakdra broke down into tears again. Jennifer gently wrapped her arms around her, holding her close in a comforting embrace, just being there for Gakdra while she processed her emotions. Eventually, she calmed down enough to finish her thought, albeit in a voice barely above a whisper:
^{“He called/named/insulted me a blight-breather…”}
Jennifer’s arms fell limp at her sides. Gakdra looked up to see Jen staring at her in shock, her jaw only closing once she went to speak.
“He what‽”
“He called/named-”
Jennifer cut her off with a sharp gesture.
“Nonono, I heard you just fine the first time, no need to say that- that fucking slur again. I just-”
Jennifer faltered, her expression turning from shocked and furious to pensive.
“…What was his name, and species?”
“He was an arthro, and I think it was- …Zepzania, or something…? Why?”
Gakdra looked up to see Jennifer moving to the manual controls of the transport pod.
“…What are you doing?”
“Driving us to the pharmacy’s almost-universal species parking lot. …I’d like a conversation with a certain employee.”
Gakdra’s eyes widened.
“But-”
“Nope. Not gonna be dissuaded from this.”
Gakdra sputtered for a few moments before letting out a quiet sigh. She knew Jennifer well enough to know that there really was nothing she could say or do here that would halt whatever was coming next.
“…What do you intend to do/achieve/perform?”
Jen winked at her.
“Like I said, just a conversation or two.”
Gakdra’s eyes narrowed.
“Would this be a normal conversation, or a human euphemism for violence/hurt/pain-causing?”
“Do you trust me?”
“Completely. You know that. Even still, I have no desire/wish/hope for you to be arrested for assault.”
Jennifer chuckled as she pulled into a parking spot.
“Nor I, which is why I want you to take this.”
She held out a small tablet towards Gakdra, who glanced down at it with a confused expression.
“Your interview slate/tablet/computer? But why…?”
Jen winked at her again, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes as she did so.
“You’ll see.”
Her expression softened as she got up and hugged Gakdra again, before whispering in her ear.
“I just need you to keep something in mind for me; what you see me say and do next is not me, you understand? It’s a persona; one of countless others that I used to have to put on before the promotion, for my more investigative work.”
“…Ok…?”
Jennifer gave Gakdra a gentle kiss on the cheek, sending what could only be described as a warm chill rippling down the saryncite’s spine.
“Good. I’ll be right back.”
Jennifer pulled out a pair of sunglasses, and as she put them on and entered the transport-pod’s airlock she tapped a tiny, almost imperceptible button on the frame; nigh-invisible unless you already knew it was there and were deliberately looking for it. A video feed suddenly appeared on the tablet, and Gakdra’s eyes finally widened in understanding.
Jennifer walked into the pharmacy with a carefree air, looking around as subtly as she could, and allowed herself a smile as she confirmed that she was the only customer in the building. She casually walked up to the counter and rang the bell. Zetzana slowly made his way out of the back office and headed up to the register.
“Can I help you?”
Oh, can you, Jennifer thought to herself. Can you ever…
Step One of bringing about someone’s downfall: Get them to underestimate you.
With practiced ease, Jennifer put on her best “ditzy-airheaded-bimbo” act, passable valley-girl voice and all.
“Yeah, I was, like, wondering where the human painkillers were at? I’ve got a nasty hangover.”
…Back in the transport pod, Gakdra couldn’t help but descend into a snicker-fit at Jen’s antics.
Zetzana pointedly glanced around at the countless directory signs above the aisles and self-serve search terminals that could have easily prevented this interruption to his work day, then let out a weary sigh.
“…Aisle 5, second shelf from the bottom.”
“Like, thanks!”
Jennifer walked away and grabbed the cheapest store-brand meds she could find. As she went back and had the reluctant arthro begin to ring her up, she put on her best facade of innocence.
“Hey, I, like, had one more question, just cuz I’m curious and stuff; what’s the deal with that, like, weird extra entrance to the building, with the tunnel and stuff?”
Zetzana couldn’t help but let the subtlest of sneers slip onto his face for a moment before he remembered himself.
“That’s the saryncite entrance.”
Jennifer’s jaw dropped.
Step Two: Get them to think you’re on their side.
“You let those- …things into the store‽”
Zetzana’s eyss widened slightly in surprise, but he gave her an approving nod.
“Unfortunately. Officially, we’re not allowed to discriminate based on species. Unofficially, I completely understand your concern and wish it was otherwise. …If it’s any reassurance, that part of the building is brand-new, and completely hermetically sealed. It’s as safe as it gets.”
Step Three: After you help them take off their mask, plant the dagger you had behind your back in their hand and let them choose one of their own arteries to go for.
“But, like, you let blight-breathers into this place‽ Seriously‽”
Gakdra’s quills rippled in unease at this, but she just closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and remembered Jen’s reassurances.
Back in the pharmacy, Zetzana smirked.
“Not afraid to say the ‘quiet part’ out loud, I see. …Yes, ever since that portion of the building was constructed a few moons back, we do occasionally have to handle the blight-breathers. Though, thankfully, not that often so far, and I’m trying to make it as infrequent as possible.”
Step Four: As they’re bleeding out, let them keep digging their own grave.
“Like, how so?”
Zetzana smirked. They were alone in the store, he was the only one on shift, and whoever this was, she clearly wasn’t remotely intelligent enough to be with the galactic authorities; he could say the ‘quieter’ part too.
“Withholding medications, and- …other stuff like that. …I actually just had one of those animals in here about ten minutes ago, here for her precious anxiety meds. Told her the entire staff searched all over, and we didn’t have them.”
He theatrically looked from side to side before leaning closer.
“…Truth is, they were “improperly filed” straight into my trash can. ‘The entire staff looking for ‘em?’ Ha, I’m the only one who even knew about that prescription in the first place!”
In the transport pod, Gakdra felt as though her blood had turned to ice, and it only got worse as Zetzana continued.
“I’m fairly certain she’s not coming back this time; she was practically sobbing out toxins when I sent her away without her prescription. Hopefully, she’s run out at this point, and in a perfect universe she’ll off herself without them so no one has to look at her ugly, toxin-spewing face again. …Then again, the fact that her kind exist in the first place kinda disproves that notion, eh?”
Despite wanting nothing more than to rip his smug mandibles off his face and use them to gouge out his pride-filled eyes for what he had done, Jennifer smothered the inferno burning within her for the moment and just put on her best approving grin.
“Woah, that’s, like, super smart! …Is anyone else here doing stuff like that?”
“As far as I know, I’m unfortunately the only one here that’s done this so far, but at least no one else has caught on.”
Step Five: Twist the knife.
“Oh my gosh, this is all, like, so brave of you. Are there other blight-breathers you’ve screwed with like that?”
Zetzana felt a warmth in his chest at the skin-suit- or rather, human’s (she was clearly one of the good ones) kind words, and a thrill in his heart as he looked around the store to make extra sure he was safe. Finally, he had someone else to talk about this with…!
“Well, there is one other thing; the first time I did something like this.”
He leaned closer, his voice barely above a whisper.
“I had a blight-breather show up here a few weeks ago with a prescription for heart pressure medication. …I sent him home with a cocktail I whipped up myself based on my knowledge of their species that should send his blood pressure through the roof, without toxicology noticing anything amiss if he were to be autopsied. With luck, it should kill him, if it hasn’t already.”
In the transport pod, Gakdra was well into the beginning of another panic attack, and Jennifer nervously swallowed, but otherwise she held in her shocked horror and retained her composure as she replied.
“Like, nice! Hope so too. …Anyway, it was super good to meet you. I’ll, like, catch you later.”
As she turned to leave, Zetzana called after her.
“Say, have I seen you before? You look kinda- …familiar.”
Jennifer felt a slight twinge of worry, but she just gave him an innocent smile.
“I’ve been told I have, like, one of those faces, I guess?”
Zetzana shrugged.
“I guess. …Well, in any case, good to meet another kindred spirit out here.”
As Jennifer left the pharmacy and walked as fast as she could toward the transport pod without arousing suspicion, she gave endless thanks to whatever deities might be out there that his sentiment couldn’t be farther from the truth.
Step Six: kick them into the grave, and grab the shovel.
——
TWO DAYS LATER
“I’m, um… just glad that, h-he was stopped/halted/prevented b-before h-he, uh- …uh……”
Jennifer winced as Gakdra suddenly buried her face in her hands, motioning to the camera operator behind his diamondglass barrier to cut the feed. Gakdra stifled a small sob as she looked up to see the concerned face of her girlfriend staring back at her.
“I’m s-sorry, I j-just- …couldn’t I just give a written/typed/unspoken statement? I-I’m- …s-so, SO many people will see/observe/judge, and- …I…”
Jennifer kneeled down to take Gakdra’s clawed hands in her own, silencing her flustered sputtering.
“Buttercup, some statement being read aloud on a screen isn’t going to be nearly as effective at making people empathize with the story. There needs to be a person behind it- even if it’s just a blurred face with a voice filter, like we’re going to do- to show those watching that there are real people out here being hurt by him and those like him. …And we can’t exactly get a statement from the other guy until he’s stable enough to do so.”
She gently kissed Gakdra on the forehead, giving her a warm hug as a chaser.
“…Still, if you really, truly want to stop, I won’t push you; we can work with a written-”
“No.”
Gakdra took a deep breath, wiping her tears away as she shook her head and collected herself.
“No, I- …I can do/perform/complete this.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes/affirmative/indeed.”
Jen gave her an encouraging smile.
“That’s my girl. …Ok, let’s start from the top…”
——
TWO DAYS, SIX HOURS LATER
“This is Collective sector 7B news; I’m your host, Jennifer Hill-Thruximoff. …Full disclosure, I’m personally involved in this next story, so to ensure an unbiased report I’ll have my co-host, Jundo H’rissian, step in.”
“Thank you Jennifer. …Thursday evening saw the arrest of a pharmacist in the colony city Clarity on planet Hreshlaka-9, located in galactic sub-sector Mu-4, for alleged hate crimes. The pharmacist in question allegedly deliberately withheld medication from one client, and poisoned another. These actions were apparently motivated by the clients’ nature as saryncites.
“Local authorities were alerted upon receiving a video from our Jennifer, who managed to coax a shocking confession of his wrongdoing out of the individual in question. The contents of this confession were seemingly confirmed when authorities found discarded medication in the perpetrator’s personal waste bin, and sabotaged medication in the home of another victim, who was unconscious on the floor when Collective officers arrived.
It was speculated by one of the paramedics on scene that if the officers had arrived even an hour or two later, it would have been too late to save the saryncite in question. Said saryncite is now stable and recovering in a local hospital, and was even able to provide a statement, which will be played alongside an interview with the second victim after the video that started all this, which will be presented now-”
Zetzana was passing his time giving a death glare from his jail cell at the projection on the holo-vid player. One of the sector security officers nearby, a bitis involved in his arrest, gave him a grin.
“Y’know, I do believe they’re talking about you. You’re downright famous!”
Zetzana’s glare only intensified as he glanced at the officer.
“Zip it, scale-tail.”
The bitis just laughed.
“Oh boy, you just don’t stop, do you? You kiss your hatchmother with that mouth? …Ooo, speaking of-”
The bitis glanced down at her wrist-computer.
“Was doing a bit of research for the case against you, and wouldn’t you know, something quite interesting turned up from a few years back... ‘Member of school board resigns in disgrace after video of hate-filled rant goes viral.’ Sound familiar?”
Zetzana let out an angry hiss, but otherwise remained silent. …This, of course, didn’t stop the officer.
“Mm-hm, I thought it might. Let’s see here… ‘Slurs were directed at a juvenile bitis, a human, and the sexual orientation of the parents of the former.’ To borrow from the humans, ‘the apple sure doesn’t fall far from the trunk,’ eh? …At least, I think that’s how that goes…”
The officer gave him another grin.
“What is it with you, lesbians, and secret recordings of your family’s hateful rants by quick-thinking humans?”
“Shut up. …Don’t speak of my hatchmother. It’s not your business.”
If her species had eyebrows, the bitis would have slowly cocked one as she looked back at the article.
“In a perfect universe, that would be true; but in truth, it is my business to protect people from those like her and yourself. People who do things like, oh, I dunno… To quote: ‘The incident began with the circumstances surrounding an altercation between the school board member’s teenage son and a student half his age, whom he assaulted.’”
The officer looked back up at Zetzana with newfound disgust.
“You really are just a bully aspiring to mass-murder, aren’t you.”
She glanced over once again at the holovid, which currently featured a recovering saryncite sitting upright in a hospital bed, giving an interview.
“Thankfully unsuccessful, but an aspirant to it nonetheless. …Just a sad little boy, whose only source of comfort is the lies you tell yourself about you being inherently better than those around you based on meaningless differences. Your mother must be proud.”
The bitis sighed as she began to slither away from the silent-but-stewing arthro.
“…But of course, the greatest proof we don’t live in a perfect universe and saddest part of this whole mess is that she probably is.”
——
3 DAYS LATER
Jennifer walked back through the hermetically sealed airlock to her abode holding a small package.
“Mail’s here.”
She winked at Gakdra.
“Package for you…”
Gakdra glanced up at Jen’s outstretched hand from where she lay on the couch, squinting at the label for a moment before her face lit up with a relieved smile.
“My medication! I was down to my last dose...”
She went to grab the package, but Jen held it out of her reach.
“Promise me you’ll let me know you’re low on them before you ever become that desperate again. Deal?”
Gakdra faltered, her gaze suddenly gluing itself to the floor. Jennifer winced, swiftly holding the package back out to her.
“Sorry; that was mean. You know I’d never withhold your meds from you like that monster in the pharmacy…”
Gakdra sighed, shaking her head as she took the proffered medication, the weight of guilt heavy on her shoulders as she shrunk into herself on the couch.
“…I’m sorry/regretful/bad-feeling too. I- …I s-should have told you. Moreover, I should have gone out with you again for these, to get them from another-”
“Buttercup, it’s ok. I more than understand you being reticent to the idea of walking into another pharmacy any time soon. There are plenty of other ways to help you get out of the house.”
Gakdra still couldn’t meet Jennifer’s warm gaze.
“…I’m sorry you have to put so much effort into me…”
Jen’s eyes widened for a moment, but she just sighed and sat down next to Gakdra.
“I’d move mountains for you without a second thought. You know that.”
Jennifer gently lifted Gakdra’s head from its place on one of the couch cushions and rested it on her lap, beginning to softly run her fingers through the quills on her back and scalp as she went whilst careful not to prick herself with the neurotoxin-coated barbs. The intimate gesture made Gakdra relax, but still tear up a bit.
“You shouldn’t have to. I should be able to move my own mountains. But I’m too weak/unable/feeble to move so much as a pinch of soil… I can’t even go outside without-”
“Accomodations. I know. …And for the millionth time, that’s nothing to be ashamed of. That’s like saying- I dunno, a species incompatible with an oxygen-based atmosphere should be ashamed of needing a personal atmosphere conversion apparatus on Earth, or your species’ own homeworld.”
“But it’s not just the suit! I mean- …you speak to millions every day, if only indirectly, and likely tens, if not hundreds face-to-face. Meanwhile, I’m afraid/fearful/cautious of leaving the house, even when I know I’m taking every precaution feasible, because beyond fearing for the lives of those around me I can’t even handle the most basic of social interactions without turning into a nervous mess! …Compared to you, I’m-”
“Perfect.”
Gakdra glanced up at Jen.
“What?”
“You’re perfect just the way you are.”
“Wh- …I’m an anxious/feardul/frightened wreck, a- …a danger to those around me-”
“And yet, you’re a perfect being in an imperfect universe, and I love you for it.”
Gakdra’s face screwed up in confusion, speechless at the idea, so Jen continued.
“So I can go go up onto the news studio set and speak into a mic whist looking into a camera. So what? It takes barely any effort from me; I’m not afraid of public speaking whatsoever. You want to know why? Because I didn’t grow up with the burden of having to avoid all but the most necessary of social interactions for the safety of others, and thus got the privilege of plenty of worry-free practice.
“…But you? You stepped up and did it too, even though you were inexperienced, even though you were terrified. You were fighting for every word, every breath. …But you still did it, because it could make a difference. That makes you a braver woman than I could ever hope to be, even if you had decided to take my offer to stop; because at least you were willing to try to win a battle against your fears, and that’s more than can be said for most.”
Gakdra just shrugged.
“None of that changes the fact that I’m still a dangethreat/hazard to those around me, not someone who can just walk around like you-”
“So I can go on a walk without a suit. Big whoop. You? You’re willing to sacrifice your own happiness in a million different ways so any potential of that danger whatsoever is completely mitigated down to every redundancy one can think of. Hell, your brain even conditioned itself to be scared of leaving the house, or being near other people, no matter how unhealthy that is nor how much I’ve tried to help you reverse it because you deserve better. …You possess a kinder, gentler, more selfless soul than I could ever hope to have.”
“My happiness is nothing compared to a life! I kill everything around me, unless they’re willing to risk their life anyway with an inoculation, like you did…”
“That’s not your fault. You didn’t wake up one day and choose to kill, like that psycho from the pharmacy did.”
Gakdra shuddered as she recalled the image of her foster father’s lifeless corpse on that terrible night, so many years and uncountable tears ago. Her next words came as an emotionally exhausted whisper.
^{“Perhaps he is right/correct/factual to fear and hate us saryncites...”}
Above her, Jen let out a quiet sigh.
“God, I love you so much, but you are so infuriating sometimes… You’re too kind to disagree with even the worst the universe has to offer.”
She pulled Gakdra into a hug, albeit after carefully flattening her quills a bit first.
“If that repugnant, self-righteous wannabe serial-killer had to walk a mile in your shoes, deal with every restriction and burden you place upon your own shoulders, be they physical or mental? I guarantee you, he’d crack within a week and go even more crazy than he already is.”
“He doesn’t have to deal with that responsibility though. I do. I’m more dangerous than a thousand serial killers...”
The embrace around Gakdra’s form tightened, causing her to let out a small squeak of surprise, not unlike a dog toy.
“And that only proves your strength more. People like him? They could never bear that burden. They’d weaponize their nature, if anything. Barge into a crowded shopping center or something without a suit, killing all around them, because if the rest of the universe- in his eyes, his “lessers-” …don’t have to deal with the burdens he was born with by the cosmic roll of the dice, why should he?”
Jen released Gakdra from the bear-hug, instead choosing to gently rest a hand against her face as she continued.
“Did I ever tell you why I decided to tutor you in the first place?”
She winked.
“…Beyond being the prettiest girl in the entire school, I mean?”
Gakdra couldn’t help but smile and blush at this, despite the utter nadir of a mood she was in.
“Not that I can remembethink/parse, no.”
“I was in study hall with you, working on some math or science homework or whatever, and I happened to look over to your side of the room. Behind the barrier, you were messaging your parents, and I could just barely read what you were writing at that distance. I know I should have turned away, respected your privacy, but what you were writing only drew my interest more.
“You were arguing with them about the possibility of getting a tutor. You said that you shouldn’t get help with your schooling, no matter that you were years behind everyone else in some areas; that it was bad enough you were in school in the first place, that you were too dangerous, and it was unfair to whoever might teach you.
“…You were so, so willing to screw yourself over in the long run to keep those around you safe, to the point of risking not graduating on time. All so you could sit in your room completely alone for a few extra hours a day, and be less of a risk to people.”
Jen leaned in and gave Gakdra a long kiss, relishing the tingling, numbing feeling the toxins on her lover’s lips gave her as they were neutralized by her inoculation. When she broke away, she smiled as she spoke.
“I fell completely and utterly in love with you that day. Not who you were on the surface- no matter how drop-dead gorgeous you were, and remain now- you. The person. The kind soul behind that pretty face. And I vowed I would do everything I could to get you where you wanted in life, because it’s the least you deserve for being the kind, wonderful, beautiful soul you are.”
Jen’s eyes twinkled as she looked upon the pretty face in question, wondering for the millionth time how she had managed to land a girl so out of her league in every possible way.
“You’re the closest thing to perfection in an imperfect universe I’ve ever come across. …And for that matter, the best evidence for said universe being inherently imperfect is that everyone isn’t more like you.”
Gakdra was speechless for nearly a minute after Jennifer ended, with the pair passing that time just gazing into each other’s eyes.
“…I love/need/soul-match you, Jen.”
“I love you more, Buttercup.”

This short story is a part of the Mieran Ruins Collection. The rest of the stories can be found on this masterpost.
“Oh my goodness.” Dr. Kovac straightened his glasses and brushed his hair. He looked towards the chaos with a tear in his eye. “It’s the most beautiful creature I've ever seen.”
“That’s an odd reaction to slugs,” Jacob said.
“She is wonderful.” Dr. Kovac began to take notes.
“We're a bit unclear on their gender.”
“Her gray hair reflects the fire,” Dr. Kovac said. Jacob turned to Dr. Kovac with wide eyes.
“Wait, you don’t mean?” Jacob’s mouth dropped. Dr. Kovac was staring at Dorothy who was hitting one of the slugs with a branch. The branch caught on fire so she jabbed it like a spear into the slug.
“So aggressive.” Dr. Kovac moved towards Dorothy with his arms out. Jacob moved closer to Franklin.
“How do you feel about what's happening?”
“I think the scientist will be a massive advantage,” Franklin smiled.
“I meant about how he is attracted to your mom.”
“Oh, that’s no big deal. I’ve been meaning to get her to date for a while. She has high standards so I hope he’s ready for rejection,” Franklin said.
Dr. Kovac slowed before he reached Dorothy. He pulled a breath mint from his pocket and shoved it in his mouth. After smelling his pits, he grabbed a nearby flower and rubbed it on his body. The slugs’ bodies weren’t quite reflective, but they were the nearest approximation of a mirror. Dr. Kovac checked his warped reflection one last time.
“Perhaps, I could be of assistance, madam?” Dr. Kovac asked. Dorothy was on top of a slug tapping her feet to avoid getting burned. It was a disturbing dance.
“No, this one is mine. Go find your own,” she said.
“My word, you are quite willful. You won’t find any resistance from me. I am at your service,” Dr. Kovac said. Dorothy leapt off the beast and began to move on the ground.
“Get me a bucket of water to cool off. I was an idiot doing that,” Dorothy said.
“Perhaps, I could invent you a pair of fireproof shoes. The pursuit of science is meaningless unless it improves the lives of the people,” Dr. Kovac said.
“You want to make my life easier?” Dorothy asked.
“Yes.” Dr. Kovac puffed out his chest and raised his chin.
“That's what cowards do. True gumption is gritting your teeth and accepting that you'll be covered in manure at some point,” Dorothy said.
"How poetic."
"I don't got time for poetry." Dorothy looked around and found a bucket of water. She picked it up. "Excuse me. I'm going to see if they like water."
"When you splash them, please inform me if they are hydrophobic or hydrophilic," Dr. Kovac said.
"I don't know what those words mean, but I'll tell you if they like it," Dorothy said.
"What lovely blunt language." Dr. Kovac smiled while Dorothy walked to the lake. Jacob ran up behind him and tapped his shoulder.
"Do you have any ideas on how to stop these creatures?" Jacob asked.
"There's already someone on the job," Dr. Kovac replied. Jacob paused. Dorothy returned with a bucket of water. She tossed it onto a nearby slug. The fire went out for a few moments before reigniting. The creature moved along as if nothing happened. "Fascinating." Dr. Kovac stroked his chin.
"You are thinking. Does that mean you have a solution?"
"No, I am content watching a master," Dr. Kovac said. Dorothy filled the bucket again and tossed it on the same slug. She groaned when the same response happened.
"She's kind of dumb, and she won't-" Jacob was interrupted when Dr. Kovac slapped him. He held a finger to Jacob's face.
"You shall not insult her you cretin. You do not understand beauty," Dr. Kovac shouted. Franklin came up behind him with a smile on his face.
"I'm her son," Franklin said, and Dr. Kovac wailed. Franklin held out his arms. "Don't worry. My dad isn't in the picture. She drove him away when I was four. She can be stubborn, and she will be mad when you get rid of the slugs. She'll get over it quickly. I promise, and I promise to put in a good word for you." Dr. Kovac smiled.
"Deal." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small taser. "These creatures are clearly attracted to warmth and food like all creatures. I don't see any eyes meaning they must use vibrations or light sensors or..." He turned the taser on. The slugs stopped moving. "Fascinating. I always wanted to find a creature attracted to electricity." The slugs moved towards him. Dr. Kovac gave the taser to Franklin. "Run as fast you can far from the city. Take it to Goldfield. They kicked me out."
Franklin nodded and started to ran. Jacob stood there with his mouth agape.
"That was all it took," he said.
"Don't be ashamed. You are clearly not smart enough to think of it yourself," Dr. Kovac said. Dorothy walked up behind the scientist and dumped water on him.
"I told you that I would solve it." She walked away muttering in anger.
"I don't think she likes you," Jacob said.
"If she didn't like me, she would've hit me with the bucket," Dr. Kovac replied.
Franklin returned to Henrietta eight hours later. When the smell dissipated, the city quickly went to work on setting up a garbage collection system. They were forced to confront their own filth, and they didn't appreciate it. Within a week, the city was collecting trash and sending it to their new landfill. The city was clean, and the residents were happy. When Susan knocked on the door, Jacob smiled.
"Hello, are you satisfied with our new service?" he asked.
"No," she replied.
"What's wrong?"
"You collect garbage on Monday. I specifically said it should be taken out on Wednesday's," she said.
"I think that's a minor compared to the big picture."
"No, it's all that matters. Fix it now." She left. When Jacob went back to his desk, the phone rang. He picked it up, and Crut was on the other end.
"Yeah, I know trash collection will be moved to Wednesday."
"She got to you first huh," Crut said.
"Yeah, squeaky wheel gets the grease."
"That's life in the public sector," Crut laughed.
AstroRideWrites

Ladies... Where to begin. Forgive the length.
My in-laws. Pretty normal marriage with normal ups and downs for 40 ish years. The last 20ish years, however, were different (so together 60 years). He had always been a bit of a controlling asshole, as most men of the boomer generation were. Never hit her or anything (which he is proud of), but was always very much "my way or the highway", never compromised, and everyone lived at the mercy of his decisions.
He made bad decisions.
Bad business deals, bad with money, gambling, etc.
Through it all, my MIL worked a steady job and kept the family afloat while he spent (or lost) every penny he made.
When the kids grew and left, and he "retired", he started gambling more and more. The casino was his only "fun". He burned through his entire savings, including retirement savings. He started burning through her savings. He couldn't get to her retirement account because that was the only thing that was in her name only, but he would have if he could have.
He never told her about the losses. She had no idea how much money they had, what he had taken. He controlled all of the accounts.
As he lost more and more money, naturally he became more and more bitter. He would get in moods where he simply wouldn't speak to her, at all, for months on end. Absolutely cruel emotional torture. She never knew what she did wrong, what he was mad about. He just pretended that she wasn't there.
When he did talk, he was angry and petty. She would ask him to do something with her, go somewhere, visit a friend, and he'd get mad. He wouldn't go anywhere but the casino.
And yet, he denied ever going to the casino. He'd say that he was going grocery shopping. He always came home with groceries, and then would cook them dinner in silence. But he'd be gone for hours, and this was every day.
She became suspicious when we had all been talking for months about going on a summer vacation together. My husband and I were happy to pay, since we knew they were on a fixed income. But they insisted that they would pay their fair share. We relented and agreed to let them pay. When it came time for them to pony up and buy their flights, he suddenly thought it was all "too expensive" and they couldn't go anymore. When we pressed, he claimed that they had some "unexpected bills" and could no longer afford to go. When MIL asked him "what unexpected bills?! We haven't had any unexpected bills", he went silent, and didn't speak to anyone for weeks.
MIL eventually figured out how to access the bank statements. Saw what he'd done, and it broke her heart.
Around this time, she had an aunt that passed away, and left her $20,000. Naturally, since all their other savings was now gone, she wanted to hold on to this $20,000. When he demanded she give it to him for him to "take care of", she refused. She opened her own account and didn't give him access. This infuriated him, and they lived like hostile roommates for months.
Finally, she had had enough and decided to email him (since he wouldn't speak to her). The email was heartbreaking, detailing her thoughts and feelings, how she felt she had been mistreated all these years, and how it's all just gotten worse and worse, and how she was finally going to take charge of her life. This was the ultimatum - stop going to the casino, start talking to her, start doing things with her and being a normal couple - or they would have to go their separate ways. She wasn't going to spend the few years she had left being miserable.
He finally spoke to her after months of not. "Let's just go our separate ways."
This was not the answer she was hoping for, after 60 years of marriage. So, naturally, she got a little angry and said some shit. Thoughts that she had never shared with him. Things he didn't know. What she "really" thought of him and the many horrific choices he'd made over the years that had devastated her over and over again.
He found these words unforgiveable.
She moved out. She moved to a retirement community where a friend lived. She LOVED it. LOVED IT!! She made a group of friends. They went shopping, they went to restaurants, they played cards and worked on puzzles, they did exercise classes and had social dances and played bingo and read books and talked and laughed and flirted with the single men and she told us that she was the happiest she had EVER been. I was SO FUCKING PROUD OF HER.
He, on the other hand, could no longer afford to live. His social security was not enough to pay his rent and bills and still eat. So he was forced to get a job - at 78. He got even worse, even more miserable, and every time we spoke to him, the rage would cut through the phone. He would talk to his son about his mother like she was the most evil person who had ever lived. He HATED her. He wished her dead. He wished her cancer.
He got his wish.
A few months ago, she started to feel pain. Health systems being what they are, it took her months to get a diagnosis. The pain got worse and worse, debilitating. We just got the official word last week. Very aggressive, terminal, very painful, no treatment, no cure.
She has chosen palliative care, and assisted suicide. (Canadian - they have that there). The process to get that procedure is a long one, but she has started it.
My husband and his brother avoided telling their dad she was sick until they had the offical diagnosis. So they called to tell him the news last week. He broke down, he said he still hated her. He said some awful things to his sons about their mother.
After getting the offical diagnosis, we got another call that she had taken another turn for the worse. So, my husband and I and our son packed up the car and drove 13 hours to see her. We drive right to the hospital and... FIL is lying in bed with MIL.
He showed up, he came back. This was shocking, surprising, happy, sad, and weird, and just a giant ball of awkward and confusion and fucked up.
She's on morphine and fentanyl, so... of course she's "ok" with him being there. She'd be OK with just about anything right now.
At first, we thought it was positive, that he had decided to forgive, put the petty shit aside, etc. He did genuinely seem caring, the way he'd help her move around. He even helped her go into the bathroom and held her up at her most vulnerable. Helped her back to bed. When he kissed her I wanted to throw up. It was such a confusing mess.
As the next day or so went on, we saw, though... he hasn't changed. Not one bit.
She had requested rotisserie chicken for dinner. She wanted us all to have dinner together in the "party room" at the hospice. He was tasked with picking up the chicken. She has her favorite chicken place. He agreed. He shows up with the chicken. It's the wrong chicken. Not the one she wanted. "If I had gone there, I would have to wait 20 minutes for them to cook it. This is fine."
It was not fine. Who knows how many meals this woman has left?! Get her the right fucking chicken!
She asked for water. He gets up and puts a cup under the tap.
MIL: "No, I want bottled water."
FIL: "There's nothing wrong with the tap water."
MIL: "I don't like the taste. The bottled water tastes better."
FIL: "I'm not paying for bottled water."
And then. And THEN. He says, "when was the last time we were all together like this?" No one says a word. Don't do this now, man. He says it again. Louder. "It was over a year ago! Can you believe it?! And whose fault is that?! YOURS." He says to her.
It took every fiber of my being to not leap across that table and bash his head on the ground. Fucking fuck.
This man has ZERO accountability. He told my husband that he thinks the reason she left him is because she was "greedy". She didn't want to share her $20,000. That's THE ONLY reason she left. He was SUCH a good husband, and only her greed could have made her do something so awful. He keeps saying, "money is the root of all evil. Look at what it did to us." He's right about that... but somehow he's still got it so wrong.
He thinks he's the "bigger man" for coming back and "helping her" now. HE'S the hero. HE'S the good guy. HE'S the one who's putting the petty differences aside and swooping in at her hour of need.
I could go on about the delusion.
But to save time... my point is... don't let this happen to you. Don't accept this kind of treatment. Get out. If you're in your 20s (or any age) and your BF is already controlling and talks down to you... GET OUT NOW. It does NOT get BETTER with age.
Take control of your own fucking life. This woman had ONE year. ONE year of peace and happiness. ONE year in her ENTIRE life where she was actually in control of her own destiny. ONE year where she could go where she wanted to go, eat what she wanted to eat, be with who she wanted to be with. And now she's choosing how she's going to die. That's empowering and incredible, but also so fucking heartbreaking.
Go do the things. Take that trip. Learn that language. Hone that craft. Go to that concert (buy the good seats). Jump out of that plane or climb that mountain or whatever the fuck it is that you want to do. GO DO IT. If your partner isn't supportive, kick him the fuck out. Don't spend 60 years with someone who never lets you have the chicken you want. Don't spend 60 years with a liar, a cheater, a gambler, an emotionally stunted fucker.
(And when you have a pain, get it checked out and don't you dare quit until a doctor actually hears you and listens and orders ALL the tests).
There are good men out there (my husband knew his dad was shit and spent his entire life trying to be NOTHING like him. He succeeded). I'm not saying to not partner up, to not get married. I love being married. Men can be absolutely wonderful. But please, for the love of all that is holy, don't settle! Don't settle for shit like this!!
And any men reading this... why? Why are so many of you like my FIL? If you claim that you love her, why do you view her as your adversary? Someone to correct, to control. Someone to order around like a servant. That's not love. If you actually LOVE her... why treat her like this? Why can't she do what she wants to do? Why can't you just buy her the right fucking chicken? Would it kill you? Can you just LISTEN? Can you put yourself in her shoes and try to imagine what she must feel like? Why can't you just be kind? What's WRONG with so many of you?! I will never understand.
That's all. I just... you know. I'm so sad. Fuck.
EDIT: To answer some of your questions... we did ask her, several times, if she wanted him to leave. She said no. She said it was OK. We told her, in no uncertain terms, that whatever she wanted, we would do. Even if she just wanted a break from him, but not to ban him completely. Whatever she wanted. She said she didn't want anything. She was fine. She was at peace with everything, at peace with him. She doesn't want to fight, doesn't want us to fight.
We even told the nurses and the doctor in charge the whole story - that FIL was newly back in the picture, but that for the last year, they hadn't seen each other, and things had been very contentious. FIL was allowed in, FOR NOW, but to please check on her regularly and make sure that she's OK. They agreed to check regularly, kick him out of the room and talk to her independently and make sure she wanted him around, and would take action if she ever said so. They also arranged for a social worker to come and talk to her about it.
About the will... they had not finalized the divorce by the time she got her diagnosis. She was in the process of changing her will, but those changes hadn't been official. They are still technically married, so the money is still technically his. BUT, she transferred a large sum to my BIL and told him who to write checks to. And she told FIL, in front of all of us, who she wanted money to go to. He agreed, in front of all of us, that he wouldn't interfere with her wishes.
Legally, if he wanted to fight that decision, he probably could, but I don't think he'd dare. She specified a sum for my son, and honestly, the only person I think FIL cares about, other than himself, is my son - his only grandchild. I don't THINK he's going to fight the money going to others. He's still getting a decent sum. And the last thing he'd want is to "look bad" so I don't think he'd go back on his word. If he did, that would certainly be the end of it for my husband and his brother.
On that note, my husband and his brother (the only kids) are FURIOUS with their father. They think he is scum and the only reason they aren't physically fighting him is because they don't want to cause their mother any further stress. They can't stand him.
He doesn't deserve a penny, but I can hope that he'll just drop dead soon, before he has a chance to lose it all.
What's so weird is that he REALLY does NOT understand what he did wrong. You know how you can tell when someone's embarrassed but trying to save face? Yeah... that's not him. He's not embarrassed. He genuinely has no idea that he did anything wrong. This is 100% HER fault. SHE is the crazy one who lost her mind and left him (even after HE told HER that they should go their separate ways). She TOLD him WHY she left him... he insisted that no, she's wrong. She REALLY left over something else. I'd call it gaslighting, but he's not that smart. He isn't trying to be manipulative. He is just really that delusional.

Raiten Meniriteups
Last time I made a cut was 7 months ago but fuck it we clutch these. During my time in between this cut and cutting Harebrayne I had the opportunity to travel to Tokyo, Japan to explore the culture and get lost in the city. The short summary of this is that the trip ruled and I bet Tokyo is a far better city to explore than Britain. Also, everyone should listen to this catchy theme song:
https://youtu.be/FSCGDkXvyzg?si=oi0FuqW-I1ALPmC_
The long summary is that this trip gave me a greater understanding of cultural norms and how Japanese people behave compared to us Westerners (and Europeans). How they act, their mannerisms, their methods in business and how they communicate, their values, etc. It provided me a valuable insight into their society that could have VERY well been integrated to the character writing of the Japanese characters in the Great Ace Attorney Duology. So, what I am getting at this is that any potential criticisms raised against Yujin Mikotoba that I do not comment on is because I can now understand his character better having visited the country now. So if you think he sucks idk maybe put yourself in his shoes.
I also watched High and Low yesterday and you guys should watch it too! Really good movie
Who is Yujin Mikotoba???
Based only on our interactions with Yujin in the first game, there is not really much to say about him. He is the father of Susato (who we only really talk to starting in the second case) and provides background commentary about our performance in between the trial sessions. Based on these conversations he seems like a standard noble parent that has progressive views about the legal system, being among the many characters in this case to talk about the Japanese courts and relations with Britain. I do not remember what specifically he added but this was a compelling plot point when first playing this case and it did a good job at world building and setting the stage for us when we travel to the country. He also says he was close to Wilson the victim which is a nice detail that foreshadows there relationship further in the second game.
The only other time he is relevant is when he is the plot device for Susato to have to return home in case 5. I remember not being too invested in this plot point because it wasn’t like we saw Susato and Yujin interact ever and it just felt like a random thing thrown in. I guess something something we care about this because we care about Susato who cares about Yujin but whatever it did nothing for me!
I was (Ghost) Tricked!!!
Except when we get to the sequel that we find out it was all a charade! Yujin was actually lying to us what the hell. Yujin plays a far more direct role in this game and has a strong link to the main plotline of the store and general duology as a whole. I am a fan of the plot of Resolve and thought that, no matter whatever flaws there may be, learning the story of the Killings throughout cases 3 through 5 was just really enjoyable and kept myself engaged with what was going on.
You might call me simplistic but I like it when my stories are actively interesting to read through and want to know what happens next and I think Resolve really improves in this aspect over Adventures. There are so many new plot points thrown at you without it ever feeling cluttered and it gives this feeling of ambition and grandness to the overall game that I remember it fondly for. And Yujin is one of the many characters that receive this advantage to their writing and becomes a major character for the final two cases of the game (and even is featured in Ryunosuke’s monologue about the importance of family alongside characters like Susato Sholmes and Iris who all what I can only imagine have equal screentime to Yujin maybe less).
I remember people complaining about his role of being Iris’s guardian but I do not remember this aspect and do not care to go through reddit comments to know what these problems are. Maybe it is because I do not care much about Iris so I don’t really care about their relationship as a whole. Also I visited Japan for a week so I know how someone like Yujin would act so nice try haters.
This is awesome???
The plot point with Yujin being Sholmes’s partner is just kind of awesome? I know this aspect of Yujin is the main selling point for him and why so many became fans of his character. It is a nice little twist when we were led to believe that Wilson was Sholmes’ partner for the longest time and just another aspect of bringing relevance to someone that didn’t get much attention in the first game. And then we get the dance of deduction sequence in the final case between the two and it is just such a blast to play through! The final case especially feels kind of like a summer blockbuster of just playing through the entire case and being wowed and jumping out of your seat from all the scenes and twists that happen. If Ace Attorney cases were ranked by presentation alone it would easily be the top spot because there are so many little details or moments that just hook you here.
There is a lot to love about this scene. The banger music, the animations, the award winning guest appearance by Big Stragonov’s twin brother that acts the exact same as him, the tap dancing sound effects?? It is just a lot of fun and eventhough I do not love Yujin I am glad he gets this moment here to give people a reason to latch onto him and his dynamic with Sholmes.
Why am I cutting him??
A mix of preferring most of the others and also because Yujin is a fairly simple character to cover. We all know why people like him, it’s easy to explain why those aspects of him are good. He is a character that is there but not really there throughout most of the duology until he is actually there and it is great.
He is buddies with Soseki what a great guy.

Sadly I don't really have the time to regularly write reviews anymore, but since this is such an important show for AWG, I just had to do it and share a few thoughts. For context, I haven't watched AWG since February, which isn't the fault of the promotion or the quality of the shows or anything, but I just needed a timeout after what happened to Asahi. Not sure yet if I will go back and watch any of the events I missed since then (featuring the 6 roster members that left), but I want to at least check out a few of the bigger matches.
For this show, I was very curious how the general vibe was after those recent events, and right from the opening dance I had a good feeling about it. Actually, it felt even cozier to me than previous shows at Shinkiba, and there seemed to be a special connection with the crowd, with them cheering up the remaining roster, chanting "ganbatte", etc.
Act vs Naho was solid. The energy and general genkiness of Naho is amazing. I wasn't so sure if continuing Teppen was the best idea, but if there's one person on the roster who could pull that off, it's Naho. I wouldn't even be against it if she'd regularly use a move or two from Asahi's repertoire as a tribute. In the end ACT won though, with the Act Lock. Nice promo at the end by both.
Todoroki & Great Asako vs Kira An & Rensan was next, and I loved the Shining Wizard tease early on. As expected, this match was very chaotic. Lots of shenanigans, a few rough scenes wrestling-wise, but the crowd was into it. They went for some fun "dives" to the outside, but in the end referee Ishiguro got caught in between the action and declared the match a no contest. As said a few times, I'm mainly in it for the comedy and character work these days, so stuff like this is right up my alley usually, but maybe I was expecting a little more from them, judging by who was in the match. Still fun though.
3-Way time! Sakura vs Ayano vs Kyoka! Is Sakura maybe wearing the shoe covers that Asahi used a few times in AWG? Not sure, but it would make sense since they seemed to be close friends. Anyway, this started a bit slow, with a spot or two that may have taken a bit too long to set up, but I was definitely getting into it towards the end. Once again Sakura was the highlight for me in this match, and she's pretty much in my top 3 AWG wrestlers at this point. Also, it looks like IES are back, and they are as emotional and passionate as ever.
Next up was Calico's last match in AWG, with her attacking MARU during her entrance. Nice energy right from the beginning, with both heeling it up and Jadoshu being involved. Calico then took MARU into the crowd, who fought back though and hung her up on a chain in return. Not my favourite spot ever in joshi pro wrestling, but yeah. Back in the ring, Calico first got rid of her hairpiece, then followed it up by ripping off parts of her pants. We got even more Jadoshu interferences, as well as the Teppen double dropkick by the last two remaining members of the stable, maybe for the last time? MARU then hit a double stomp, and for some reason Kyoka distracted referee Ishiguro, which lead to the Jadoshu boss not getting the win. Not sure if there's still trouble between both in the group, or if it was just a wrongly timed spot. However, MARU proceeded to rip off Calico's mask instead, revealing Yasuka Nakayama. Not sure if this was widely known, but I speculated about it a while ago, and it makes perfect sense now. Calico tapped out quickly after that, after Ishiguro's focus was finally back on the action in the ring. Match started out great, but was over a little bit too soon for me, and the execution of the ending could have been better. Still, a nice way to say good bye to Calico. With how much Marigold-related stuff she is sharing on Twitter, there is a big chance she will end up there sooner or later, which is a shame, but at least she had the decency to show her face (well, mask) one more time in front of the AWG fans.
Marino & Nagisa vs Mii & Mari. Not gonna lie, I do missed Marino's squirrel friend during her entrance. Meanwhile, Mii still had Kuma-chan with her of course. The veteran team heeled it up against Nagisa, until Marino took over. Mii seemed to be in an extra mean mood today, and used whatever was still left of Kuma-chan to suffocate her opponent. Marino looked pretty good out there, she has improved a lot recently. Nagisa then handed out a few of her trademark chops, but the veterans came back, and Mii put her away in the end. Solid match.
Time for the main event with Riko & Kanamic taking on Natsuki & Naru. Riko is much better as the coolish gracefully Maya Yukihi-like babyface than her slightly awkward heel persona IMO. Natsuki and Kanamic started out with a really nice exchange, once again showing off how much Kanamic has grown in that short time she's been active in the ring. Let's not forget about Natsuki though, who should probably be AWG's choice as new young ace and first non-veteran to win the title. Naru continued with similar intensity against Riko, with Natsuki then taking over again against the latter. We got a nice german by Kanamic, that lead into the finishing streak, which had the spirit of Mikasa Martin in the air. Great performance by both Natsuki and Riko, who was taken away with the Shining Wizard in the end. Great main event & MOTN. Who needs a Miku Aono or Misa Matsui, when you're able to have a main event like this with a handful of wrestlers who are each like 2 years active or even less. Natsuki's passion afterwards showed why she should be on top of the promotion soon. Good show.

Black Sheep Family
Interlude 9
Date Night: Valentines
The Evening of the 17th of February, 2079
Agatha Quain sat at the back of The Divine Comedy Club , a cheap laugh restaurant that prided itself on having “discovered” a few good comedians. Currently Agatha was debating whether she was gonna toss an illusionary tomato at the racist piece of shit on the stage or at her boyfriend for not checking the schedule. Jack was just staring at the stage like the man had signed his own death warrant, not because of Agatha, but because the man was hellishly ripping into the Rana at the front of the stage. He was about to stand up and go get a manager when a short, wide man stepped on the stage, both teens knew he was Dominic Carcelli, a member of the Carcelli crime family, and a man whose family made heavy donations RHED, or the Rana-Human Education and Defense funds.
Carcelli made a swift grab for the microphone and nodded to a man off to the side. “Hey sorry about that folks, lets say we get some actual fuckin’ talent up here, yeah?” He covered the microphone and shouted off stage, “Who else we got back there that ain’t stupid enough to provoke half the damn city.”
A timid voice called out.
Carcelli rolled his eyes. “On behalf of management, as an apology, I’ll be covering mozz sticks for everyone, sound good?”
Agatha followed the mobster’s gaze to a taller, more severe looking man with salt and pepper hair and a groomed goatee. He also had a top hat at his side and a pocket watch clearly sitting in his breast pocket.
“Thanks for your patience folks.” Carcelli waited for the new comedian to come on stage. “Hey, what’s your name buddy?”
“Tommy Kallewski.” The young man said.
“What’d you think of that palooka before you?” Carcelli asked as he handed the comedian the microphone.
“You mean the guy who couldn’t grow up past the seventh grade?” Tommy snorted. “I’ve never heard worse jokes, and my material is fart jokes mostly.”
Agatha snorted and almost lost her drink through her nose. Jack barked and slapped the table. Most of the audience burst into laughter. The old man in the back grinned and sipped his drink as Carcelli joined him.
“So.” Jack snorted as the comedian’s jokes started to take off. “Sorry I didn’t check the schedule.”
“Anyone with a last name of ‘Dick’ that’s that old shouldn’t be labeled a comedian. Especially with that material.” Agatha rolled her eyes and leaned over and kissed Jack on his forehead. “You’re forgiven.”
“Thank you.” Jack smiled and took her hand.
They watched, laughed and listened for a few minutes. Jack was obviously enjoying the potty humor that Tommy was dolling out faster than most people could process. Then the free mozzarella sticks came and the two teens smiled as they tried to share a single stick between them. They laughed and dropped it as they failed.
“So, does your family need anything done while you’re out?” Jack asked.
Agatha sighed, “Yeah. Saw that coming. I think we’re good. Could use someone to look after the gardens.”
Jack nodded, “Not the cat.” He said.
Agatha snorted, “No gramps has the cat.”
“I can help with the gardens.” Jack nodded, “Dad’s upset he’s being put on a desk.”
“He’s the best leader dad has until we get back.” Agatha shrugged. “Even if he doesn't think so.”
Jack nodded. He smiled at her and held up another mozzarella stick.
“You’re doin’ it wrong.” Carcelli’s slight scarred face stared at them. “You’re breaking it early, you gotta have them in your mouth and then pull.”
“Thanks...” Agatha looked the man over.
“Hey, I know who your pops is and I don’t start shit. I run legit businesses and ain't no law says I have to call the cops on my customers. In fact Dross city has Neutral Ground laws.” Carcellie smiled, “Relax, we ain’t enemies.” He flicked the ashes of a half smoked cigar into his hand.
“Fair.” Agatha nodded, “Dross does have no smoking laws for restaurants though.”
“She’s right,Dominic.” The tall man said as he walked over. “Pleasure to make your acquaintance, I am Dwayne O’Donnelly.” The man’s heavy Irish accent was crisp and reminded both teens of older actors from the past. “Please enjoy the show and the food.”
“You own this place?” Agatha asked as she turned to look at the man as he stood directly behind Jack.
Jack was frozen and locked into place as he scratched his nose.
“I do.” Dwayne smiled, “One of my many investments in the city.” He turned to Carcelli, “I must go, please enjoy your meal as well.”
Dominic nodded and walked back to his table and put his cigar out in a half filled glass of water.
Dwayne smiled, “You’ll have to forgive the young Carcelli, he sometimes forgets I prefer a more laid back setting for my places.”
Agatha stared at the man, trying to see past his form and to something of less physical substance. She hadn’t been training with Illidae as he Master for long, but he had taught her how to activate her Soul Sight. What it showed her shocked her into just nodding silently. The man nodded and smiled before he left.
“That man smelled of danger.” Jack let out a breath. “Like metal and molten glass.” He noticed Agatha staring in shock and reached over to touch her hand.
“We need to follow him!” Agatha shot up to run, but Jack grabbed her, making sure not to tear her lace gothic dress..
“What did you see?” Jack hissed, “We can’t just chase a guy like O’Donnelly.”
“It was darkness, pride, hatred and rage.” Agatha said. “He’s one of them. He’s a Revenant.”
Jack paused then nodded, “Man, we need to plan for date night interruptions.”
Jack quickly got the bill and paid for their meal which they hadn’t even gotten to eat, he did ask for it to be packed as they would return for it. When they got outside they hopped onto Jack’s motorcycle and were off.
---B)(S)(F---
Danny sat nervously at the Pizza Hat. He had just finished a movie, The Terrible Trio Strikes Again!!! The third Strike!, with Heith and both were sitting nervously at the both. Both teens were clearly unsure how to behave and both knew Danny likely had other thoughts he was focused on.
“I hope the movie wasn’t a terrible idea.” Heith sighed, “I know the shit with Cassandra is bad, I just know I’d want someone to distract me if Sofie were in a similar situation.”
Danny looked up in worry, “No it was a good movie, and I appreciate the break. I just can’t stop thinking about how I could have stopped him for sure and now...” He put his head in his hands. “I think he’s not dead. I think Salem’s right.”
“The nosferatu guy?” Heith clarified, “The one who fought vamp-bitch?”
Danny chuckled, “Well for once an accurate statement if worded for a poor reason.”
Heith snorted, “I’ve met the woman, that’s personal bias.”
Danny smiled as a pizza and a large shake with two straws was put in front of them.
“Did we order that?” Heith blinked as she looked at the super-tall shake that had a mountain of whipped cream and two cherries on top.
“On the house.” The server winked. “You two have a fun date night!” He rolled backwards on his shoes and danced away.
“Man...” Danny sighed, “Dross City, we got’em all.”
Heith nodded and blinked, “Well it is chocolate.”
Danny nodded, “I’m fine with sharing.”
“Good.” Heith smiled as she put a piece of their pizza on a plate. “I never understood why...” She paused, “Is dad appropriate anymore?”
Danny shrugged, “I mean in some twisted way he cared, right?”
“Not about us.” Heith sighed, “Not how your family cares for each other, it was more possessive.”
Danny nodded, “Well then what is to you?”
“The Lab doctor who grew us.” Heith snorted in a laugh that signaled a sense of relief. “But I never understood why we couldn’t get pizza. This stuff is better especially when it’s not school based.”
“My dad would call that blasphemy.” Danny laughed. “How is Sofie doing?”
“She’s dealing better than I am.” Heith nodded, “I still have nightmares with him ripping off his face and that robot’s face.” Heith sighed, “He did give her an amazingly realistic snobby attitude.”
“I don’t know how people get attracted to that.” Danny sighed, “Has to be purely physical.”
“Or they’re the same.” Heith sighed. “Am I doing better?”
Danny tilted his head a little. “Heith, I’m the son of a rich as shit family. Both of my parents are independently wealthy and the only reason I had my job was boredom.” He laughed, “I’m not sure I can judge spoiled and bratty and stuff like that accurately.”
“Fair, but am I less bitchy?” Heith asked, “I don’t know. Forget I asked.”
“In terms of what I’ve seen, yeah, you’ve improved. You’ve learned and even though you still call me devil-boy, you’re not pissing Agatha off with it so I guess it’s okay?” Danny shrugged.
“Well she calls Jack ‘puppy’.” Heith said flatly.
“She’s called him puppy since we were four.” Danny explained, “She’s the only one he lets call him that.”
Heith paused, “Noted and remembered.”
Danny nodded, “And it’s not like she won’t sometimes get on his nerves with it.”
“Fair.” Heith nodded and sipped on their shake, then made a face. “That’s bad.”
Danny sipped on it as well. “Yeah I don’t think it was mixed right, too much chocolate mixed in.”
“Oh well, it’s free.” Heith smiled, “But don’t worry about Burlin or Gravitas or whoever the fuck he was or is. We won the day, now you focus on your sister.”
Danny nodded and sighed, “Thanks. I don’t know why but I feel like I messed up there.”
“I feel like I messed up my whole life with him.” Heith said with a grimace, “You’d think you’d see something that would scream ‘supervillain’!”
“To be fair, GLOBAL is classified as a villain organization.” Danny said, “We don’t know their endgame so unless it’s global domination, I doubt it’ll be classified as Super.”
Heith blinked. “That’s the difference?”
Danny shrugged. “Classifications are based on motivations and power levels mainly. Criminals want survival and the stuff that helps with that; cash, gear, et cetera.” He pulled out a napkin and drew up a small diagram. “Villains have some ideal or goal, they feel they have a purpose or society is the one in the wrong. Super-Villains want power, to rule and to run things. It’s why guys like the MechAnimals and the psychotic Animals are both considered criminals, but Pharaoh is a Super-Villain despite mostly being a crime boss. We know he wants the world under his control and crime is his means to an end.”
“And The Fog is a criminal because they just sell their services. Man-Tick is a villain because, why?” Heith asked as she took another piece of pizza.
“Fun fact about Man-Tick, he funds his research into breaking his curse via mercenary actions, but his goal isn’t complete reversal, it’s to make more like those animal-hybrid people GLOBAL made.” Danny explained, “My best guess is they stole his work, because that man would not be quiet about being successful.”
“And that makes Jet Fission a Super-Villain.” Heith nodded, “What about the Nazi Zombies?”
“Armageddon Level Threat.” Danny nodded, “Isn’t this first year stuff? Dad taught us this when he came back, Anna already knew it.”
“You’d think, but it’s a Senior class.” Heith gave a huff, “How many Armageddon Level Threats are there?”
“Bleak and his Crew is currently the only one, but Fission can slide into that as well.” Danny took his first piece of pizza. “I keep forgetting how greasy this isn’t.” He sighed.
Heith snorted and shook her head. “Well thank you for the lesson. If you need someone to talk to until then, I’m just a chat or call away.”
Danny nodded, “Thanks.”
“So why’d your dad let you take the van, isn’t it like your only car since that fancy one of his got stolen and wrecked.”
Danny chuckled. “He got it replaced pretty fast. Scared the shit out of those car thieves though. Spent an hour crying about the best metal baby.”
Heith stared at Danny in confusion.
“It was his first car, one of the only things he’s had any material love for. Mom says I’ll understand when I get my first car.” Danny explained with a light sigh of contentment.
“But you can fly.” Heith said.
“I can, but sometimes you gotta move someone else. Also I don’t go that fast, just above the average running speed.” Danny shrugged.
“We need a re-match.” Heith sighed, taking deep of their shared shake.
“Have you suddenly developed the ability to hit incorporeal things?” Danny shot back, “Because I can still do that.”
“I’ll find a way. Found a way to block Guire’s stupid shocks.” Heith said with a slight tinge of annoyance.
“Ah, give Guire a break, kid’s in just as bad a situation as you were, only he can’t run and the best guy to help him is a bit distracted helping my sister right now.” Danny sighed.
“What do you mean?” Heith asked.
“Guire’s dad is a former cop. Currently head of Security at Sun-Tech. Dad got him fired for beating his wife, but he’s got too many friends still on the force. Dad can’t make any moves to help Greg, Bubbles is trying now.” Danny took another slice and a deep sip. “It’s really fucked up.”
“I can break his face.” Heith said, “No one could mad at me after what I’ve been through.”
Danny almost choked, “God, no. Please. Just don’t give him so much shit.”
Heith crossed her arms but nodded in understanding. “I’m kinda full.”
“Me too, too much popcorn.” Danny laughed. “Want to take it home to Sofie?”
Heith nodded and they waved to the server who promptly trolled back over to them.
“Take home for the rest please.” Danny said, “And hey, where’d you get the shoes?”
“Customs on myshoedrip.net.” He smiled, “Used to be popular in the early millennium, called Heelies. I’ll get you a box and cup for the shake.”
“You take the shake.” Heith said as she stood up to pay.
“I got this.” Danny smiled.
“I got it, I kinda put you in the asking position.” Heith smiled.
“Half then.” Danny offered.
“You pay for the shake.” Heith smiled.
Danny nodded, then remembered it had been a free shake. “Hey...”
“Too late you agreed.” Heith smiled and went to the counter to pay.
As the two stepped outside he couldn’t help but notice a motorcycle speeding by with a very elegant gothic dress on the rear end.
“Aggie?” Danny paused and stared.
“She wears dresses?!” Heith’s jaw dropped.
---B)(S)(F---
Alan and Endara were at one of the most expensive restaurants in the city, a professed neutral ground where criminals could come to safely dine so long as violence was not reported. It was a Carcelli restaurant, but Alan wasn’t going to hold that against them tonight.
“So...” Endara looked at the menu. “Should we be here?”
Alan looked at her and sighed, “I made the reservations, Cassie told us too.” He threw his arms up in defeat, “I just can’t help but feel like a shit-heel here.”
“Same...” Endara sighed. “Maybe order a dessert and take it home?”
Alan smiled, “Okay, but we have to eat a meal or Anna will get Stephen on both of us.”
“She does do that easily.” Endara smiled, “Her mother’s care in her.”
Alan nodded, “So my lovely fire engine of brute force...”
Endara broke into laughter, then collected herself. “Thank you, you know just what to say. My lovely dumbass.”
“I do try.” Alan smiled, “Oh. Manicotti.”
“You hate anyone else’s manicotti.” Endara gave an accusatory glare.
“That’s not true, just people who don’t know how to make it. This is an Italian place, if they can’t make it I’m going to be upset.” Alan smiled. “You just stay out of their kitchen.”
Endara snorted and looked the menu over. “Oh, they make big meatballs here.”
“Good evening.” A man said as he approached, “My name is Trevor and I will be your server tonight.”
“Well Trevor, ever had the Manicotti?” Alan asked.
“Yes, my favorite short of the chef’s favorite ravioli.” Trevor smiled.
“I’ll take that.” Alan smiled, “House’s best red wine, for the holiday past.”
Trevor nodded, “And you Mrs. Quain.”
“I’ll have the spaghetti and meatballs, can I ask for just three extra large ones?” Endara asked.
Trevor nodded, “We can do that.” He then took their menus and bowed before leaving.
“Well, let’s enjoy the night.” Endara smiled, but paused as she noticed Alan looking up and past her.
Endara turned to see the massive frame of Polar Bear grinning down at her. He raised his hands in a peaceful gesture.
“No harm meant.” He said as Mud Dauber stood by his side.
“I always thought you two made an odd couple.” Alan tried to laugh. “We good?”
“Yes.” Polar Bear nodded, “I wanted to thank you for your kindness last we met.” He bowed his head. “It is rare when we have a hero remember we are human too, mostly.”
Alan did a brief scan of the man’s surface thoughts and nodded to Endara. Endara then relaxed.
“And I have no interest in taking on you and your wife. Even with Freya’s help, we would lose.” Polar Bear laughed.
“You would lose, I would flee.” Freya snorted.
Polar Bear looked slightly wounded as he stared at his partner, then he nodded in the affirmative and agreed with her.
“Well, you’re welcome, but right now we’re on our Valentine’s date.” Alan smiled, hoping to dissuade any further conversation.
“Da? So are we!” Polar Bear laughed, “But we will leave you to yours.”
Freya pulled on his scarf and Polar Bear bent down to listen as she whispered in his ear.
Polar Bear winced, “I know this is probably a bad time, we have heard of the attack on the school and that you have an injured child; but our leader has a proposition.”
Alan felt his jaw drop as he felt the idea pass from Polar Bear’s screaming and nervous mind.
“Too loud Isaak.” Freya hissed, “Remember he is a telepath.”
“Right. Sorry.” He pulled an envelope from his very carefully crafted vest and handed it to Alan. “It isn’t much as of now, but we have hopes.” Polar Bear smiled as he once again bowed and led Freya to their table.
“Well...” Endara watched the two MechAnimals sit at their own table, “At least you can tell they’re in love.”
Alan nodded as he put the envelope away. “We might have to step up Anna’s therapy.”
Endara blinked, “What?” Then she realized the implication. “They’re that desperate?”
“Pharaoh may have cut off other sources.” Alan sighed, “Or the Animals really messed them up.”
Endara nodded, “What about the psycho?”
“Let’s worry about that after we save our daughter.” Alan sighed. “And part of that is eating a meal to bring home a huge chocolate mousse.”
“I was thinking, instead, what about stopping for ice cream?” Endara smiled.
“Anna will want what she always wants.” Alan sighed and telekinetically lifted his phone from his pocket and sent out a message to the family. Then he got a reply that made him pause and stand up.
“Agatha or Danny?” Endara asked with a sigh.
“Take a guess.” Alan sighed as he went to a non-emergency exit. Then he dialed Agatha’s number, when she didn’t answer he sent another text and waited.
The door opened and Mud Dauber came out and lit a cigarette, then noticed Alan. He felt genuine shock from her, but didn’t let her distract him. Finally he got a response and sent a quick demand for her and Jack to get home. Then he leaned against the opposite wall and sighed, partially sinking down.
“Are you all right?” Freya asked, “That’s a stupid question. I’m sorry.” She walked over and offered her hand.
Alan paused and took it, using her to help himself stand.
“Eldest decided to do something ridiculously stupid.” Alan sighed, “Thank you.”
Freya nodded and Alan went to go back in, but paused.
“If he’s serious, tell him to hold out as long as he can. We’ll be out of the country for a bit.” Alan explained.
Freya nodded, “You know I met your newest. She’s a sweet kid, I hope it's not her that’s hurt.”
Alan paused and let a bitter laugh echo in the night. “Hurt is an understatement. That bastard started to tear her apart from the inside, and something else decided to continue it.” He growled.
Freya nodded, and watched the door close, but Alan remained outside.
“You have kids?” He asked.
“I wish I could. Early childhood cancer.” Freya smiled, “And Isaak’s DNA may not carry over.”
Alan nodded, “If you and he are serious and you all really mean this, hold on. Then maybe consider adoption.”
Freya nodded. “We’ll try.”
Alan cleared his throat. “You have a nice Valentine’s dinner.”
“You too.” Freya smiled.
Alan joined his wife once more.
“Was she a problem?” Endara asked.
“Nah, just a smoke break.” Alan nodded.
Endara leaned in, “So what broke you?”
Alan went to argue but smiled, just as he could make her laugh, he could never lie to her.
“Agatha tried to chase a guy she thought was a revenant.” Alan smirked with a slightly mad glare.
“Why is our daughter blessed with both of our impatient and impetuous natures?” Endara laughed and brushed her hair back.
“Luck.” Alan smiled.
Then their meals were brought out and Alan immediately went to dig into his manicotti. He just as quickly frowned.
“Bad?” Endara asked as she cut up her meatballs.
“I think I’ve been ruined.” Alan smiled, “Best damn manicotti I’ve had.” He looked at Trevor. “Compliments to the chef.”
Trevor smiled, “I shall inform him.”
Endara nodded as Trevor poured their wine for the night.
“Trevor, how big is the biggest mousse you’ve got?” Alan asked.
Trevor paused briefly, almost concerning Endara as she watched him quickly stop pouring. “Pretty darn big, but that's for catering. We have a twelve ounce one for take home.”
“Dang that won’t satisfy a house full of teens.” Alan sighed.
“We can put it on a cake or a pie.” Trevor suggested.
“Ohhh.” Endara smiled, “Can we get one to go?”
Trevor nodded and looked at Alan.
“If you would.” Alan said, “And anything else she wants.”
Trevor nodded and stepped away.
Endar smiled at her husband as she remembered a specific order she had put in with a private call. Alan found it moments later as he split open a manicotti to find a jewelry box that he telekinetically plucked out. He stared for a moment then looked at Endara.
“You would.” He sighed and opened it.
Inside was an infinity loop with Endara’s birthstone in the center and the stones of the entire Quain family, including Daniel, Jazz and Alan and Stephen’s original adoptive parents.
Alan smiled and sat it down.
“Surprise.” Endara smiled.
Alan nodded, “They cooked it in the manicotti.”
“What?” Endara blinked.
Alan laughed, “Thankfully it only messed up one.” He scraped the offending manicotti to the side. “Someone’s gonna get in trouble for that.”
“Well, hopefully they can learn.” Endara sighed and slowly laughed at the scenario.
Soon both Quain parents were laughing and making jokes about pasta jewelry.
/////
The First Story
[Previous Interlude]() //// [Next Interlude!]()
Arc 1 - Black Sheep Family - Arc 1, First Chapter
Arc 2 - Paradigm Shift - Arc 2, First Chapter
Arc 3 - Gravitas Rising Arc 3, First Chapter
Arc 4 - The Director’s Chair Arc 4, First Chapter
Arc 5- The School War Arc 5, First Chapter
Spotify
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Credit where Credit is due:
Kyton & Cassandra Adams are © u/TwistedMind596
Obsidian is © u/Ultimalice
Ixton the Blade of the Wielder is © My friend Forged of Souls who does not use reddit
Furnace is © my friend Matt who does not use reddit
Cedric Stein Meissner aka Tesseract is © my friend James, who does not use reddit.
All other characters and Dross City are © u/TheSmogMonsterZX
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Perfection: Kinda heavy for an interlude inn’t?
Wraith: Well interludes are the parts that can't fit into the normal stories. He never said they wouldn’t contain any important details.
Smoggy: I believe I said I would try, and honestly I just couldn’t get Alan and Endara’s dinner anywhere at the end of Arc 5 or at the start of Arc 6. So it goes here and if I need to refer back to it, we treat it like a comic book and link to the story at the end.
Deadpool: I’m BACK and I brought boxes for all!
Smoggy: Glad to have you DP.
DM: What?
Smoggy: I’d like to send you some place nice, warm year ‘round and plenty of hot ladies to flirt with.
Deadpool: ...Really.
Wraith: (taps Scythe against the floor) He means hell.
Smoggy: I mean Hell.
DM: Ahhhh...
Deadpool: How about, like some place I can help teen heroes fight bad guys?
Wraith: We’ve already tried that with another version of you.
Smoggy: He still sends them Christmas Cards. So hell, or leave us alone.
Deadpool: You know I think it’s been fun here, but I miss home.
Perfection: (leaning over Deadpool’s shoulders) Smart choice. (vanishes with Deadpool)
Wraith: Why can’t they all be that reasonable.
Smoggy: Luck, insanity? I dunno. Time to focus. I got some SpellJammer stuff to make!
DM: Stinger!
Smoggy: Wha-
---B)(S)(F---
The Evening of the 16th of February, 2079
Jazz pulled her motorcycle up to the curb of the well maintained SkyView Apartments. She was almost up to the door when she heard voices out back laughing and shouting, so she went around to see what was going on. She found the person she was looking for with two of his friends, one of which was a personal hero of hers.
“Holy shit!” Jazz quickly saluted Samantha Canning.
“I’m retired and from what I understand, so are you.” Samantha smirked, then gave a quick salute.
“Jazz, what’s up?” Salem asked without looking up from the fire on the grill.
“They’re giving that poor little girl some bad news and I didn’t want to hear it.” Jazz sighed, “Figured I’d make you have some fun.”
“Some fun?” Sawyer looked at his friend, “You got a Super Nintendo?”
“Nah, figured we’d go beat up some thugs or something.” Jazz smiled. “Salem invite only though.”
“That’s fair. He needs more friends.” Samantha smiled.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Salem looked up with a glare.
“That you’re an old curmudgeon with few friends and most are kids.” Sawyer smirked.
“Pot, meet the kettle.” Samantha smirked.
“I got friends.” Sawyer laughed, “Just no one else likes’em.”
Salem rolled his eyes and downed the rest of his whiskey mixed with blood. Then he stood straight and stretched before staring directly at Jazz.
“I got a strict curfew of twenty minutes before dawn.” He set an alarm on his phone. “Won’t crash or anything, just don’t want to dust.”
“Man, have you ever crashed?” Sawyer snorted in annoyance.
“Nah.” Salem nodded, “Can’t let the sun win at everything.” He grinned. “All right Artigan show me what you consider fun!”
“Get your helmet, you ain’t ridin’ with me without one.” Jazz smiled.
“I am not a seat warmer.” Salem glared.
Jazz crossed her arms. “My bike.”
Salem snarled, but stomped off and returned, but with his own bike and a leather helmet.
“You just...” Jazz laughed, “Can that thing keep up?”
Salem’s head tilted.
“Oh, now she’s done it.” Samantha laughed.
“They’re going to be mangled in a mess on the news.” Sawyer laughed, “Anna will kill them both. Then maybe Cassie.”
Samantha laughed and picked up her whiskey.
“Take my couch Canning, cops won’t care who you are if they smell that shit. Doesn’t matter that you’re not drunk.” Salem said as he continued to glare at Jazz.
Jazz continued to smirk, “Well come on old timer. We got some red to paint.”
Salem let a low growl escape his lips.

So back in 7th grade, I transferred to a different PE period and suddenly, three girls started trying to interact with me. Let me put out the three, C, K, and A. C was the one who primarily interacted with me (she would say "Hi [my name"]" every time she saw me). During PE, she primarily made brief conversations with me (like if I knew their names, if I remembered her from 6th grade, etc.) It went on like this for awhile, but when we were waiting for buses to pick us up for a field trip (ironically, this occurred 10 days before the COVID lock down began), C went up to me and started to talk about the simple stuff at first (like if I remembered her), but started to up the ante and talk about kissing games afterwards. For that, she asked me if I knew about Spin the Bottle. I said no and she explained to me what it was. She also talked about TikTok dances and had another friend perform one in front of me. Both of those made my die inside, and I just left and talked about Fortnut with a group of boys. Throughout all of this, she was always giving me this smile and her consistent greetings were all exclusive to me from what I saw.
Then, for K, I don't remember much happening in PE, but we had another class together where she sat behind me. She usually did icebreakers. For instance, I watched a GEICO commercial cuz the school wifi was too strict for anything more entertaining and she asked why I was watching a GEICO commercial. In another, she randomly asked if we were friends.
For A, nothing really happened aside from her kinda bossing me around (like telling me I was out of a game when I was hit by a ball and I didn't notice). I suspect she acted like this because we had beef back in 5th grade at an extracurricular (but we didn't go to the same elementary school).
So if anything, I think C was interested and K and A acted as her backup. I mean, C was the only one to (I think) try to flirt with me by talking about intimate topics like spin the bottle, nah? I'm a high school junior now btw. I'm just posting this to reflect.