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sanchoyo · 3 years

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danny phantom, season 3 episodes 3-6 thoughts!

see prev episode thoughts in this tag <3

-johnny was actually pretty civil with danny and left when he asked! thats nice. also, SKULKER?? HAD A FRAMED PICTURE OF EMBER?? oooo fuck wait had they established they were a Thing Before?? I dont think so. thats weird. its like that country boy/goth girl meme lmfao. I think i am going to choose to ignore this new info and pretend I didnt hear it. 100% unrelated to the jazz/ember fanart I already drew and posted....😳

-LADIES NIGHT EPISODE THIS IS WHAT ITS ALL ABOUT. wish it didnt really center around the guys or them being pissed at them, but. willing to bet this was written by men lol

-THEY ERASED ALL THE MEN??? meanwhile, jack and danny are fishing at. silent hill or something. im glad jack is trying to read a parenting book and making an Attempt. (theyre at lake erie, but, they made it actually eerie...thats fun)

-the girls alt outfits...cute. EMBER MADE A NEW SONG TOO!!! kinda. jazz being one of the backup singers and being AWFUL. NOOOO

-'how are we going to get kitty to blow a kiss?' 'she'll have to think there are still some males in town!' ...i dont know how to break it to you, but I dont know that a 100% het girl would wish for all men to Begone. I think. I mean im not a het or a girl so I dont really know for sure. she Is probably Bi tho. esp having the other ladies in town chanting NO MEN!!! excitedly............(then again, the kiss is to get Rid of men, so, she probably would have blown it at the ladies only if they were actively trying to attack/stop them, so...I MEAN. THE DRESSING LIKE DANNY BIT WAS SO EXTRA)

-I feel like an all female cast ep couldve been way way way way cooler than that was. like. why was it still somehow all about Men. ...anyway. (where was valerie...)

-next ep opens with the observants, and, way way more of them than I expected...existed? I mean I guess them being a council/jury of some kind is what I expected from their first appearance (bc at that time they were basically TELLING clockwork to kill danny, not asking,, so I figured they had SOME kind of authority) but. there were so many. anyway, here goes vlad! letting his own hubris go brrrr. releasing a weather ghost for political gain! #justvladthings

-okay say what you will about him (he IS an asshole) but having an umbrella with his own face on it and more prepared to share is SUPER FUNNY. and him being fanned by huge wads of money by his bodyguards. SO ineffective but so Dramatic. He UNDERSTANDS that if youre rich you need to be. you know. obnoxious and kinda eccentric about it! fuckign hate when rich people are boring about it. I would trust vlad with nothing except to not be a boring rich asshole who wears...fucking khaki or some shit. man knows his Presentation Skills. and that 'V' chair in his mayoral office. is that fucking embroidered?

-maddie get your MAN PLEEEEASSSE. IM SO EMBARRASSED FOR HER. the way jack stays simping for this man. in FRONT OF HIS WIFE!!!! ...my god its like a love triangle. jack clearly loves vlad, who loves maddie, who loves jack. jack fenton is at the very least bi, right................. this is an OBSESSION . 'THE V MAN COMETH'???? i...my god. (also, on a serious note, to have a friend THIS SUPPORTIVE...and still be SUCH A DICK TO HIM (TRYING TO KILL HIM AND STEAL HIS WIFE??) NOT COOL VLAD. JACK IS YOUR 1 AND /ONLY/ HYPE MAN. if someone loved and supported me THIS HARD...LIKE. CMON DUDE.

-STOMP the fucking GAS, JACK

-this would make a great shirt design, looks like a metal band design! we love The Maelstrom

-oh, so vlad did in fact get a mansion in amity park. and its purple! good color choice! not as flashy as a CASTLE or MURDER CABIN, but still pretty eccentric, which I appreciate.

-...vlad knows the difference between picasso and da vinci? in the ep last post where we were watching him fail at conquering every historical time ever he didnt seem to know history well enough to like. be effective...was vlad taking art history at college?? (was he an art MAJOR??? we never DID KNOW WHAT HE WENT TO SCHOOL FOR. I kinda assumed business because in the masters of time ep he was still rich without ghost powers so he had to have..known something about business or something, right...but also, art and or theater FITS HIS PERSONALITY. possibly also something science-y, I guess, but I always felt like he got roped into that, esp how pessimistic he was about the ghost portal in the flashbacks to college, like, i felt like he was just there for maddie and was uninterested/un-invested at the time...)

-THIS GHOST JUST ELECTROCUTED MADDIE (THE CAT) BITCH!! THATS MY FAVORITE MADDIE!!! vlad going after vortex and being ~shocked~ .....WHEN. WHEN WILL YOU LEARN. THAT YOUR ACTIONS. HAVE CONSEQUENCES!!!

-the way this random man with a camera sees the mayor laying in an alley covered in TRASH AND DECIDES TO TAKE A PICTURE HAHAH

*snap* this ones going in my cringe compilation!

-vlad 'if we're going to defeat vortex, we're going to have to do it together!' *immediately dips after dropping danny off in front of vortex* JKASDFHKJHJKN

-DANNY CAN DUPLICATE!!! ...he couldnt even attack with it, but he DID IT!!! INTO (4) OF HIMSELF!!! SO PROUD!!!!!!!!!!

-'THE ROLLER COASTER EMOTIONS OF A TEENAGER THREATEN MY PLANS!' ...0 self awareness of his own dramatic moodiness. incredible, how dumb this man is. its very close to circling around to endearing, if he was less of an asshole. at least its very very funny to see danny shooting him with tiny lightning bolts anytime he's even slightly irritated! vlad you should be nice to danny anyway. this is what you GET

-...making sandwiches and ice cream and playing video games with your nephew is a totally normal thing. WHY is vlad acting like this is the end of the world. if you were a GOOD UNCLE YOU WOULD ALREADY BE DOING THESE THINGS!!! bitch I make my nephew food all the time and dont forget what he does and doesnt like. if u didnt know danny didnt want tomatoes, thats on u. if u, a grown adult, are gonna piss of the 14 yr old by not letting him win, u deserve to have to pay for the arcade machines he ruins because he now has uncontrollable storm powers because YOU THREW HIM INTO A FIGHT WITH THE STORM GHOST. fuck u vlad. paypal me $400,000 while ur at it tho. (also, gamer vlad confirmed)

-VLAD CAN COOK THOUGH???! I assumed he had...people working for him that did that. I mean. billionaires usually dont do that. then again, we've only seen those vultures working for him (and I guess the dairy king was AT his old mansion, but it was never really clarified if he worked there...I think he probably just Hung Out and they Enjoyed Cheeses Together. thats what I think, I dont think a KING would be working for anyone and also the dairy king was nice <3) but then again he would be a private person and we cant have anyone accidentally finding Ghostly Things, so...still, that's hilarious. pour one out for that really cute banana split that got ruined 2 seconds later

-vlad just fucking picking danny up and THROWING HIM AT VORTEX TWICE WITHIN LIKE A MINUTE. JUST ABSOLUTELY LAUNCHING HIM. BITCH THATS MY SON BE CAREFUL!!! HES GOT ORGANS AND THINGS!!!!

-danny seeing those animal commercials and feeling sad is the biggest 2000s throwback so far. i legitimately had to change the channel or walk out of the room when those came on bc id CRY AND BE SAD ABOUT THEM FOR DAYS AFTER. fuck those commercials and fuck that IN THE ARMMMS OF AN ANGELLLL song 😭

-'vlads ego almost got the town destroyed!' yes danny thats the entire episode. the entire series anytime vlad shows up honestly. this episode was just him being really embarrassing the entire time, and, me laughing about it. 10/10 would laugh at him again

-NEXT EP WE HAVE A SHAPESHIFTING GHOST?? I've said it before but shapeshifting is the power I would want when asked those 'what superpower do you want' questions...its the Best power! this guy looks like a homestuck character. ive never read homestuck but thats the vibe

-I love every time we see tuckers family, they are by far the most functional family. and dash has a lil chihuahua!!! named pookie!!! i am crying (I've had 3 chihuahuas, so I am very biased, but...) AND HE WATCHES THE ROMANCE CHANNEL WITH POOKIE. POOKIE I WILL DIE FOR YOU YOU SWEET LITTLE BABY.

-danny can lift a bus! I shouldn't be surprised, but i am proud of my son. hes got lil kid fans. i am going to cry about this

-JAZZ KEEPS A SCRAPBOOK WITH DANNY'S LIL HEROICS AND NEWSPAPER CLIPPINGS!!! we've actually seen it on her floor before, but I didnt realize it was a scrapbook!! thats sooo cute.

-...and danny has to stand there listening to his parents saying danny phantom sucks and is a 'filthy ghost' and calling him egotistical...i am once again stealing their kids!

-THIS GHOST RIPPING JAZZ'S SCRAPBOOK!!! ILL KILL YOU. SHE WORKED HARD ON THAT!!! BITCH

-yes, maddie, the one with red eyes is For Sure Actually Your Son. ignore the, red eyes... (CLEARLY she hasnt watched the other 2 eps where danny has been evil, she doesnt know red eyes= evil!!!)

-'billy fenton'.......................

-danny being stuck as phantom in his own house, no way out is a fucking NIGHTMARE. his parents pointing giant weapons against him and SHOOTING AT HIM. THIS IS A HORROR MOVIE.

-NINE INCH NAILS POSTER.

-this is the most screenshot of all time

-amorpho turning into mr. lancer because hes 'someone no one will want to be around' BUT HES WRONG, I WOULD BEFRIEND AND HANG OUT WITH MR LANCER SO FAST.

-tucker dressing as danny, now I have the full Tucker set of him being sam and also being danny. also saying 'the ghost...uh...RIPPED MY FACE OFF.' and then running. SMOOTH. NOT AT ALL CONCERNING TO ANY PARENTS.

-sam accepts the toast from jack. and then 2 seconds later is like 'why am i eating this.' THIS SHOWS HUMOR IS SO UNEXPECTED SOMETIMES ITS REALLY GOOD. and then the scene after, mr lancer running into his ghost doppelganger and being like 'YOURE GORGOUS' THEN FAINTING. I AM CRYING. AND DASH FAINTING TOO.

-sam disguising herself as danny again to help tucker run from the fentons. but leaving him shirtless in the streets. incredible. 'plEASE DOnt NOTice MY FACELessNESS I MUST LIVE IN EXILE' this episode is destroying me the humor in this show is exactly my brand of corny and cheesy

-the impromtu story made up by danny and amorpho to explain stuff to the fentons. my god they are both such bad liars. but amorpho is a good egg. wish danny wouldnt have said he didnt wanna see him in town again!! I want him to be reoccurring. not that thats gonna matter since I'm almost done with the series, but the idea of this being the Only Time We See him is :(

-NEXT EP SAYS STARRING MARK HAMILL??????!!! hello ! mr . joker....mr. star wars.... I feel like I should be. idk. taking off a hat im not wearing in respect. I shouldnt be surprised tho bc hes in a lot of cartoons as a very good voice actor, and dp has already had a lot of talented ones so I've been looking out for ones I might know, but....mr. hamill....

-sam has her own greenhouse, names all the plants, and says thank you to them (in the languages from where the plants are from) whenever she harvests from them. thats SO cute. and her lil gothy lunch box...

-and danny's lil red fuzzy lined jacket!!! ive said it before but every time the characters get alt outfits im like :D

-danny has ice powers now!!! THATS WHAT FROSTBITE MEANT. HE KNEW SOMEHOW WAY BACK THEN

-THIS SHOW NEVER LETS YOU FORGET VLAD IS A BILLIONAIRE, HUH.

-danny's lil 'holy hibiscus!' first off the 50s batman swearing is hilarious. 2nd. my username is from the flower sanchoyo hibiscus, so, shoutout to ME this ep. hi :)

-EURGH UNDERGROWTH MAKING EVERYONE PLANT ZOMBIES. HIVEMIND PLOTS SCARE THE SHIT OUT OF ME. and this dude made the city SO overtaken so quickly like how long was danny asleep?? oh god

-evil fucked up sam! now the whole trio has gone evil at some point! the voice actress did a really, really good job with making her sound like a zombie...

-frostbite's paws are so so so big compared to danny. oh my god. i want to hug the snow dog...

-the far frozen has an advanced medical stuff!!! very cool. very smart snow dogs

-im so glad danny has a friendly ghost snow dad to explain this new power and teach him!!! this is so sweet. DANNY'S GHOST SENSE WAS A PART OF HIS ICE POWER?? OOOH. COOL. we love a training montage!!!

-danny saying if he cant defeat overgrowth, that he'd want to stay with frostbite...oh my god...do you think this is the first real supportive adult figure in his life (I am NOT counting his parents because they threaten him on the daily even if they dont realize it.) I mean mr lancer is a Teacher, but he was also nice but this is different, but this is a GHOST WHO IS WILLING TO HELP HIM with his powers and also will help him when hes injured and is so so nice and comparatively so much more mature than 90% of the adults in this show!!!! god. dad frostbite is my everything.

-the framing and lighting this episode, and all the angles...they went all OUT and it looks really really good. this is my nightmare scenario, tho. like, FUCK zombies and dead city zones and hivemind shit. and using the humans as 'nutrients for the children' i am going to THROW UP.

-MALEFICENT VIBES WITH THE HORNS AND GREEN EYES! this costume kicks so much ass. sam is now mark hamills daughter, I guess.

-danny's ice powers making his eyes blue!!! thats neat. and him going for the roots underground was SO SMART. i will not stand for danny ever thinking hes stupid, hes SO smart.

almost done with the show... :"( thats a sad thought!!!

#sanchoyorambles #dp thoughts #danny phantom

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multi-fandom-imagine · 3 years

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I’m so sorry || Daniel ||

dartlovingbre asked: Just came up with another request if you are okay with doing it. Takes place when Andrew and Daniel meet Abraham and the reader is there and she reveals that Carver is the evil instead of Andrew saying it and Daniel gets angry. When the group hear what happened they get angry at her and yell at her, causing her to run off, and when Daniel remembers the bible with the scribbles in it, he tells the others Y/N was right, they feel guilty for how they treated her and they go to find her and maybe they find her severely injured maybe falling into a ditch near the road and when she wakes up they apologize to her.

A/n: I just love all of the boy’s and Taylor. Like I like Angela but it took so long for her to be likable when everyone else is already likable.

Pairing: Reader x Daniel \\ Hinted Andrew x Reader.

Warnings: Blood, injury, swearing

Everything happened so fast, one moment you, Daniel and Andrew were looking over a few things in one of the old houses. The next you three got pulled into the past. It was eerie staring into the face of a man that looked so much like your best friend. Your stomach was in knots, the look a like was talking about that he was going to have to speak to the judge about the little girl.

It did not make sense, how could all of this be put on one little girl. But that’s when it hit you. What the Priest said to her, the things he whispered to her. This just could not be her, she was being infused.

“Wait...you can’t just put all of this on her...it’s the priest that’s the one that’s driving it.” You stated stepping close to the look alike. Andrew looked relived, that he was not the only one who thought so though Daniel, now that was another story.

“Hold on Y/n! That’s way off. We gotta stop the kid.” Daniel snapped. Trying not to flinch at his voice you wanted to hear what Andrew’s Doppelganger had to say.

“Reverend Carver is a man guided by god.”

Then everything went back to normal, it was still dark out and the firefly’s dancing in front of the door. Though one thing was for certain, Daniel was pissed.

“Bad move y/n....sticking up for the kid is probably gonna do us all in.”

Shaking his head, Andrew stepped forward, his body shielding you from Daniel. “Maybe so, but I think y/n made the right call...though I hope your’e wrong...for all our sake.”

Your mind was spinning, you didn’t even register the other three walking over. Daniel telling them what you did, the whispers turned into yells as Andrew did his best to calm everyone down but soon they were yelling at you.

“What the fuck y/n! Now we’re dead because of you!.”

“You think someone who’s going for their bachelor’s degree you’d be smart enough to not mess everything up.”

“I thought we had something special y/n, though whats the point of having this relationship when we’re going to die anyway.”

“Y/n! this is bad....very bad! You should have told him that the little girl was to blame!”

Pushing back the tears that threatened to fall, your fingers tightened around your flashlight. “It didn’t feel right to condemn a child! I’m sorry that I’m not some monster.”

“Y/n!” Andrew stepped closer to you.

“But apparently you all think I am!” Rubbing your eyes you took a few step back before taking off into the fog, the dim light from your flashlight fading away as the others screamed your name.

Gritting his teeth Andrew took another step forward before he spun around giving the group a harsh glare. “What the hell is wrong with you people! we just got everyone back and now Y/n is gone...and for what! for telling my look alike that the priest is the one pulling the strings! Now she’s gone....I mean what if something happens to her.”

Daniel could already feel the guilt eat away at him, he did not mean to snap at you. To take out his anger on you but he was scared, he nearly lost you in that bus crash. He had to watch your doppelganger self get burned alive so that just added to the list of his worries. What if you were wrong? what if that thing came after you and now they couldn’t stop it...but then again...what if he was wrong and now you were in more danger because he had to open his mouth.

Digging his nails into his palm, what Andrew said really hit him and now your words were ringing in his head were starting to make more and more sense. “Y/n...I..I think she was right.” Frowning, Daniel shifted his body ignoring the eyes on him. “Back at the museum...I found that Carver guy’s bible and it had a bunch of weird symbols drawn all over it and they...well now that I have a clearer head...they looked more satanic.”

Taylor frowned, already regretting what she said to you. “So are you saying...that its our fault if anything happens to her.”

“We need to find her.” Abigail states. “Who know’s what could happen, it’s really dark and the roads.”

“They’re not safe.” John states though Andrew let out a sigh of relief as he started to walk off.

“Well what are we waiting for....let’s go.”

Catching up to Andrew that was leading the group he did not know why he hated the thought of you and Andrew being close.

“So and you and y/n...are you a...thing?” Daniel bit his lip, he didn’t mean to sound so rude.

“Are you high, or did that blow to the head knock some sense out of you.” Andrew snorted. “She’s like a sister to me, besides y/n likes you idiot but I’m sure you blew your chances.” he muttered as the others called out your name.

You never meant to run off on your own, but you were hurt by the things they said...by what Daniel said. How could they have been so cruel? Wasn’t it obvious that it was Carver who was the problem. Sniffling, you wiped more tears away from you eyes.

“Stupid jerks” You whispered though walking your foot got caught in a hole due to a missing chunk of asphalt. Dropping the flashlight your held your hand out to break your fall but that did nothing. Scraping your hands, you could feel your pants getting ripped in the process as you continued to fall. Your body seeming to hit every rock as you rolled down the hill.

Letting out a cry, you finally came to a stop.Blood oozing out from all the new cuts on your body, red now mixing in the dirty water you were lying in. You were sure your arm was broken but everything hurt. You could feel your conciseness fade in and out.

Was your name being called?

Looking up one last time you could sworn something passed in your vision before you blacked out.

“Y/n! come out now!” Daniel ignored how panicked his voiced sounded, how scared he was. “Come on....this isn’t funny.”

Taylor sucked in some air as she rushed forward, her hands grasping a broken flashlight. “It’s y/n...what if.”

Andrew shook his head as his eyes glanced around. “Don’t think like that! she could be around here somewhere.”

Daniel swallowed thickly, he hoped so but that’s when he saw it. Something or someone rushing by then a flash of light. Something was glinting in to moonlight. Panic rising in his chest he quickly made his way down the ditch and that’s when he saw you.

You looked so broken, dead. This couldn’t be happening, you couldn’t be dead...not when he never got the chance to tell your how he felt.

“Y/n...come on....this isn’t funny...open your eyes.” He was scared to even touch you but that’s when he saw it. Your chest rising and falling, that put him a little at ease though he was not going to feel better until he got you to a hospital.

Daniel did his best to ignore the others, they did not matter right now you did. Gritting his teeth he slowly let his arms wrap around your body as you let out a pained whimper. Looking over at the group he did his best to hold you gently as he could with out causing you anymore pain.

It felt like hours getting to some burnt down house, those things chasing after them did not help at all. Still holding onto you he watched as Andrew and Taylor make their way up to the second floor. Feeling himself nod off the young man did his best to stay awake.

It felt like hours ticked by though he couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief as the sun came up and whatever that was chasing after them was gone according to Andrew.

You both were right and thanks to your help along with Andrew’s the rightful person was persecuted. The whole group left the house, you were still unconscious in his arms by the time they got to that diner though you finally woke up when you were placed in the ambulance.

“Daniel?”

Biting your lip his hand clutched yours gently. “I’m here y/n...and..Im sorry for being such an idiot...all are and I.” closing his eyes, he slipped into the ambulance after a talk from John. “And I wanted to tell you...that I love you.” He blurted out.

Letting out a laugh, you winced as the EMT’s spoke to you. “Isn’t that funny...I love you too and...I’m sorry for running off.” Closing your eyes you could feel the anaesthetic taking it’s effect.

Sighing his finger ran over the back of your palm. “You have nothing to apologize for Y/n...I’m the one that messed up but I’m going to make it up to you...I promise.” Leaning over you he pressed a small kiss to the top of your head.

After the hell you went through, he was going to make sure everything is going to be better here on out.

#little hope #the dark pictures: little hope #the dark pictures little hope #little hope daniel #little hope daniel x reader #the dark pictures #dark pictures little hope #dark pictures anthology little hope #dark pictures anthology #daniel x reader #reader #x reader #reader instert #drabble #drabbles #requests #request #artlovingbre

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depressed-sock · 4 years

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Monster of the Week 2

one

Words: 3k

This work is entirely a self-indulgent throw a bunch of Oc’s at the TMA world and see what happens lmao

Tw: threatening of bodily harm

sections 2 and 5: stranger fear, harassment of a colleague, purposefully using the wrong name, mention of intent to gaslight, it/it's pronouns used

section 3: flesh fear, not actively descriptive but it deals with meat if you want to skip it.

Click. 1

“Investigation of Why the Archive never stays organized, brought to the Archives attention by me for the last thirty years." She stresses the words, trying to make her frustration clear to everyone who can hear her in the room. "Investigation begins on July 9th, 2014, and is being investigated by archival assistant Olivia Stanek.”

"So, first things first." She pauses, taking in a deep breath as her hands stay firmly clasped together before she finally releases her pent up anger with a quick movement. Standing up sharply and banging her hands on the desk. "What do you people not understand when I say to put things back where you found them!"

She turns with a barely held back growl, glaring at the now suspiciously empty room around her. "You fucking little cunts, I will find you and I will get you to leave my organization system alone!"

Click. 2

"Did you try turning it off and on again?" The man next to them sighs heavily, his shoulders already taking on a stiffness of agitation.

"Yes, Rupert. That was literally the first thing I did." Corwin glares at the blonde man who now decides to lean against their desk. His face forced into a quiet contemplating frown as he stares at the static-filled screen of their computer.

"My name is Rick, and did you click any suspicious links?" He glances at them, missing their glare that's turned into the perfectly innocent look of boredom.

"Do I look that stupid Rupert? Really?" They cross their arms over their chest defiantly, watching carefully as the man's frown twitches into a barely held back snarl.

He's already breaking down and the day has barely started. An accomplishment that's taken only a few weeks of patience and maybe Corwin is a little too proud of that.

"Rick. My name is Rick. And," he sucks in a deep breath before blowing it back out, "You know what, move I need to check the cable from the computer to the screen." He pushes their chair back without their consent, kneeling down under the desk to look for the cable.

The cable that they had purposefully cut with scissors earlier. After they unplugged it of course. They're not that stupid.

"Why is this cut?" He brings half of the cable out, holding it up for them to see while he tries his best to glare them down.

An attempt that feels more like dealing with an upset child. So they treat him exactly like one. "If I knew that, why would I have called you?"

"You!” He bites back the rest of his reply. Taking a moment before he finally grits out, “Just use a different computer until I find a replacement cable!" He stands up fast and awkwardly, knee slamming into the desk and forcing out a string of curses before he finally storms out of the room in anger.

"You got it, Rupert!"

The scream of rage that follows is a lot more satisfying than they'd thought it would be. Maybe they should go out into the world and do this more often. Maybe it's their true calling.

"Was that the doppelganger thing? I figured it would have quit by now." Olivia walks up from behind them, coming to a stop beside them as she tries her best to force her greying hair up into a messy bun. "Or at the very least murdered you next."

"Yeah, I think we need to start upping our tactics." They stare at the doorway he had left through an evil grin slipping free, "I say we gaslight it next."

She gives them a look of disgust, "Corwin really?"

They shrug in response, "It's not my fault it decided to kill and replace the I.T guy. Or that it's choosing to suffer by continuing to work here."

"Speaking of suffering. Where's the statement you were investigating in California?" She leans just a bit closer to them, her hand gripping the edge of their desk. While her eyes take in every aspect of their existence.

"I don't know. I put it back after I was done writing down the details I needed." Which is most of the truth. They put it back. Then Jordan took it back out and then they lost it in California because neither of them wanted to go back to the campsite.

Corwin's not going to tell her that. At least not yet. Maybe when Jordan pisses them off at some point but right now they'll wait to throw him under the bus.

Even if she's towering menacingly ever closer over them, her voice a whisper of threats, "If I find out that's a lie, I will personally hunt you down and skin you for the Stranger."

"Right, you do that. It's been great chatting with you Liv, now if you don't mind I'm trying to make the doppelganger’s life a living hell."

Click. 3

"Imani! Do you know where the werewolf files got put?" Jordan's voice echoes through the room of filing cabinets. Well, she thinks room, but it almost feels like an endless warehouse at times. Like now for example. She's pretty sure she's somehow gotten lost even though she's exactly where she needs to be.

"Um, I think it's somewhere near me?" She responds a bit more quietly but nonetheless heard; the room already echoing with her voice. It's what she likes about this particular room, no matter how loud or quiet she tried to be if someone else was in the room they'd hear her. "Let's see, nightmares about trees, mutated frogs, hmmm oh is this…. WHAT THE HELL."

She barely has enough time to cover her mouth and nose with her sleeve, backing away but still not fully able to escape the smell that layers itself against her tongue.

"Imani?"

She gags, backing up further away. Taking a second before she feels safe enough to speak muffled words, "Why is there a filing cabinet that's filled with rotting meat? This is… oh gods this is disgusting."

"....Oh um, I'm pretty sure that's supposed to be in Artifact storage. One second, let me go get someone to come collect it."

Her brow furrows as she stares at the cabinet, confusion becoming more and more prominent, "What? Why is there supposed to be a filing cabinet full of meat in Artifact storage?"

"Good question! I have zero answers." Is all she gets out of him before she hears the door shutting behind him. How did he even find the door that fast? She’s never been able to find the door that fast in the last few months she's worked here.

When she had applied for the job she had thought she had known what to expect. Creepy things, supernatural things. Gwen had given her a full rundown of the fears and the possibility of not being able to quit. She knew what to expect.

But knowing and experiencing are apparently two different things. And she's pretty sure nothing could have really prepared her for… this.

Click. 4

“I’m thinking we need more empathy in the Archives,” Gwendolyn says, as she adjusts her glasses, though it seems to do nothing to help as she continues to squint at the paper in front of her.

Oliva feels her face crawling into a snarl in response. Her fingers gripping into the edge of Gwendolyn’s desk she leans against. “Which one of those little fucks complained about me?” She would be sure to personally show whoever it was, exactly how empathetic she couldn’t be.

Gwendolyn turns her squinting from the page straight up to her with a look of amusement followed by an exasperated sigh, “Love, is there something I should be aware of if you think someone's complaining about you?"

Olivia glares down at her before a smile splits her lips and she lets out a bark of laughter, "Would I really need to tell you that bright eyes?"

Gwen's laugh is light, her eyes taking on a brighter sheen before fading to a dull grey, "No, I guess not. But I’m talking about empathy in general. Corwin seems more intent on harassing I.T than ever before, Jordan has begun to withdraw from people, Imani is starting a bad habit of asking questions she shouldn't, and you continue to be you.” The last part of her complaint dulled as she pries one of Olivia’s hands free from her desk, pressing a soft kiss against her knuckles.

“I don’t see how this is a problem?" She shrugs, not bothering to free her hand. "Everyone in the Institute is some kind of fucked up. So Jordan’s a little more untrusting of everyone and Imani is overly curious, she certainly wouldn't be here if there was no attachment to the beholding. It’s all problems that will eventually resolve itself.”

“I see you didn’t mention Corwin or yourself in that.” Gwen let’s go of her hand to set her glasses down. Quickly trying to rub the tiredness from her eyes.

“You love me just the way I am," she leans forward planting a soft kiss on Gwendolyn’s wrinkled brow, "and Corwin is trying to deal with our doppelganger issue.”

She grins widely in response, “I wouldn't have it any other way Love." Before her grin turns into a soft frown, "So, it was one of the poor lads in I.T? Which one?”

“Gwen, you already know who. And do you really expect me to ever show an interest in learning anyone’s name or Identity here?” She doesn’t bother to add on the last of her thoughts; considering how often people die. Too often to really get attached anymore.

“As much as I love you all thinking I’m all knowing I truly am not. Honestly though, I don’t think anyone here really has bothered with that. The poor thing chose very poorly in any case. Not much fear to be fed on when everyone is either already a stranger or you just have a deep-seated hatred for everyone and everything here. Not to mention, every single member here has been estranged from anyone they could call family.”

She narrows her eyes at that, “You know I’ve always wondered about that.”

“What? Do you really think any sane person with love and support would ever continue to work here? Let alone apply for a job here?”

"What does that make us then?" She leans forward, arms resting on Gwendolyn’s shoulders as their foreheads touch together.

"Two old women who are deeply in love with each other and bringing terror wherever we go."

"You always do know how to sweet talk me. But I'm still going to strangle the first person who doesn't put a statement back correctly."

"I wouldn't have it any other way."

Click. 5

"Alright, I've got your computer back in working order." The man claps his hands together, a look of accomplishment on his face.

A look that is quickly wiped away by Corwin’s own smile, "Great, but uh, something seems to be wrong with Olivia's computer now. Not sure what but it's stuck on this video and I can't seem to get it off."

"Why were you using Ms. Stanek's computer?" The man asks carefully. Lines of frustration already wrinkling around his eyes.

"Because you told me to use a different computer? Seriously are you always this forgetful Ralph?" They tut half heartedly with a shake of their head.

"What I meant by a different computer, was one of the dozens we have that no one else uses. NOT Ms. Stanek's.” They can almost see a static around him. A form that’s too long, too strange takes up the dark fuzzy spaces around him. It probably doesn’t even realize how badly it’s giving itself away.

"Well, I guess you should have been clearer then. Either way doesn't change the fact that the screen is still stuck on that video."

“I can’t believe this, why are you doing this?! I thought we were friends, Corwin!” He finally breaks, words echoing in slightly different tones against the emptiness of the room. They can’t help the sharp grin as it finally asks exactly the question Corwin has been waiting for. They stand from their chair, immediately crowding it’s space.

“See the thing is Ralph,” they lean in close, “I don’t have friends. So you being my friend is incredibly suspicious. So suspicious that I may have to do something about it. And I’m sure you don’t want that, do you Ralph?”

It tries not to look intermediated by their smaller stature but fails as their eyes take on a dangerous hue. It’s voice comes out weakly, now a pale imitation of what it was, "my name’s rick..."

“No. It’s not.” They know. They see.

It’s beginning to shake. Fear overriding its previous anger. Until finally it turns, fleeing the room. Not bothering to try and rebuttal them. A disappointing outcome to say the least. They had at thought it’d try to murder them. It’s why they didn’t point out the real reason they knew he wasn’t Rick.

It would have been funnier though if they had. They can already imagine what would happen. Watching the dawning realization on its face and it immediately looking down at his ID to find a man who looks vastly different than it. After all, everyone's ID photo on their work badges are all polaroids that have been laminated on.

Too many missteps from previous generations that made it necessary. At least it’ll make it easier to know if the doppelganger decides to switch to someone else in the Archives.

They wonder if it'll finally leave now.

Something in the back of their mind tells them it’s far too late for that.

Click. 6

"Jordan! Don't you dare run away from me you fucking little-"

"Olivia?" his footsteps slow and he turns back to face her with a furrowed brow, "I'm not running from you? We've got a loose artifact in the filing room."

"Don’t you dare start making up excuses!" She's still storming towards him, face scrunched in anger.

He should probably be afraid. Olivia on rampage mode always meant that someone was at the very least going to be severely injured. Mostly because some idiot didn’t take her threats seriously even though it’s been proven time and time again that her threats are 100% serious. But he's got far greater fears than anything she could ever do to him.

"I'm serious Oliva. Imani found the meat cabinet there." He holds up his hands in surrender but it does nothing to placate her.

"AND YOU JUST LEFT HER THERE!"

"Yeah? It's just the meat cabinet. At most it'll make her sick for a couple of days and then she'll be fine." They’ve all had to deal with a rogue artifact at one point or another. It was the archives own official... hazing? No, it’s not so much a hazing as it was just something that happened too often and the newbies didn’t know better yet.

"I can't believe this, you just abandoned your co-worker to an Artifact!"

"Olivia you've literally done the same thing to all of us. Live by example maybe?" He’s also pretty sure she’s killed people so he doesn’t really understand where this is coming from.

She stares at him for a long moment before her body immediately relaxes as if she’d never experienced anger a single day in her life. "Eh, who am I kidding, I honestly don't give a shit if you've let your paranoia get the best of you. Anyway, did storage move it there? Or did it decide to do that itself?"

"I'm not paranoid," he bites back. And what does paranoia have to do with leaving Imani there? She can handle herself, she doesn't need help. "I haven't gotten to Artifact storage yet to find out."

"Right well you get that sorted, I'll go grab Imani out of there before we have to hire janitors." She pauses turning back with a glare, "By the way do you know what happened to the California statement you were helping Corwin with?" Her voice takes on it’s previous edge, eyes tightening in anger.

"No." He definitely does not know exactly what happened to it. It could have caught fire, or could be buried, or ripped to shreds. He doesn’t even know if it’s still anywhere near that makeshift campsite.

"I'm watching you, little man."

“Yep, bye Oliva.”

Click. 7

(The sound of the air conditioning kicking on fills the room, accompanied by the sound of a man cursing under his breath.)

"Ah there you are-”

(The man lets out a barely held back scream, and something flatters to the floor.)

“Oh calm down, your name is Rick, correct?"

"Uhm...Yes, Ms. Gwen."

"Fantastic, I've been looking for you. Unfortunately, there seems to have been an issue with your work contract and you're now being transferred to the Archives."

"What! But. NO, I quit, I'm not going back down there with those demons."

"Oh dear. You can't quit. And I think you'll fit in just fine if you think them monsters of your equal."

"I-"

"No, hush now. If you kill any more of my employees, I'll have to let Corwin deal with you exactly how they wanted to and believe me. That young person is incredibly creative when it comes to killing your kind."

"..."

"So. Pack your things, and I'll get your contract sorted. Don't try to run, because" (a harsh bark of laughter fills the room.)

"We'll find you."

(The man curses a bit more under his breath before heavy steps lead out of the room and fade away. The woman gives out an exhausted sigh.)

“I see you’ve started recording again. Preparing for an Archivist who’ll never exist? Or are you preparing for one that’s coming to visit?”

…

“I guess it doesn’t matter because we both know the answer to that don’t we.”

Click.

#the magnus archives #tma #original characters #my writng #long post #monster of the week (fanfic)

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6v6taeminisloveshineeworld · 5 years

Text

Body & Soul x Taemin

Genre: Supernatural, Romance

Summary: Set during SIRIUS era you are a Japanese fan of Taemin's and you go to his final concert fulfilling all of your dreams. But what happens when you meet by chance and he's not who you thought. This story uncovers the truth, is Taemin human?

Word Count: 7.7k+

Pairing: Reader (Yuki Sakamaki) x Taemin

Part 2

"Taemin-san, Kakkoii!" (Cool) The sound of applause was deafening as Shawols said goodbye to Taemin. It was his third day in Tokyo and he was now on his final thirty-second SIRIUS Concert. "HOLY WATER, HOLY WATER..." His voice was that of an angel's and before the curtains closed, he cupped his small elegant hands around his mouth and shouted: "I am so happy!"

The tears in his eyes made Yuki Sakamaki tear up as well. It was hard to hold back her emotions when he displayed them so openly like this. Selfishly in Yuki's heart, she wanted him to stay in Japan with her forever but at least for two times in her nineteen years of life she was able to see him in person on this tour. First in Hiroshima on the twenty-ninth when he'd worn that silly, adorable tiger outfit and then again today. Getting two tickets was the most amazing surprise and Yuki thanked her best friend Azuma for the second ticket. The curtains were closed now and Yuki shakily got up from her seat. 'What's This Feeling' was playing in the background as fans all started to file out of the concert hall, their faces were filled with pure awe. "Sugoi ne!" (Awesome) one girl yelled to her friend as they walked past her. "I loved Mars the most!" Said one lady in her mid-sixties beside Yuki. Yuki smiled at her, it always made her happy that people of all ages and genders loved Taemin-san as much as she did. Yuki turned on her phone when she was outside the auditorium. Instantly it began to vibrate with messages from her older sister Kumiko who would have given anything to be there with her but was unfortunately stuck at college abroad in America. Their father owned a specialty candy store with many popular fandom Items from Anime toys to K-pop merchandise. It was getting to be a quite popular store in several cities and Kumiko was going to college in New York for business. Soon she would be running the store there. "I was listening on stream!" I can't believe you are still alive after that! I was blown away as usual by how amazing Taemin-sama sounded!" Yuki laughed at her sister's use of sama (lord) as an honorific for Taemin. Her sister was overjoyed when she heard that Taemin would like to be called sama as an honorific in a recent fansign. "Yuki-chan I am so happy for you. Call me immediately when you get home I want to know how it felt to be in his presence." Yuki looked at the time it was already getting late and because of the crazy rainy weather they had been having lately (no thanks to Taemin's power to make it rain wherever he went) it was already pitch-black outside. She dialed for a cab to take her to her hotel but suddenly remembered what she was missing. "Ah! My lightstick." I must have left it on my seat. Turning back Yuki ran into the concert hall and back to her row, letting out a gasp of relief when she found her pearl aqua diamond lightstick still on the red cushioned seat. She looked around the room. Everyone had left already except for one man in a black bucket hat. Yuki held in a gasp because the man looked like Taemin and he was leaving the hall through the red-lit exit door close to the stage. A rush of adrenaline burst through Yuki's veins and even though she thought she would be crazy to follow him she knew she couldn't have seen it wrong. Yuki opened the door and looked around outside. Everyone was in the front of the building taking pictures with Taemin's SIRIUS white van so it was very quiet back here. Yuki remembered Taemin saying that he liked to take walks right after concerts to burn off his remaining energy and look at his fans happy faces. She wondered if this was such a time and if it was, would she be lucky enough to spot him when no one else had before? Yuki walked closer to the front of the building where she would be able to have a perfect view of fans taking pictures but remain unseen. If Taemin was anywhere it would be here. "I guess just the presence of that doppelganger's charming aura would frazzle even the most sensible of people," a voice said from the shadows. Yuki turned around and her eyes widened when the figure came closer into the light of the full moon above. His hat was gone now. Even though the man wore a black mask concealing the bottom half of his face she knew that his eyes were undeniably Taemin's. He pulled his black hair out of his eyes revealing a pale forehead. Her brain was having a hard time registering how it could be possible to change his hair from blonde on stage to black in so short a time. "Taemin-san, I am so happy to see you," Yuki said with a slight bow as she tried not to act like a stalking lunatic in front of him. "How did you change your hair?" Taemin pulled off his mask revealing his full lips and the small black mole she loved so much on the right side of his nose. Up close like this, she saw that he truly didn't need any makeup to show his mesmerizingly handsome beauty. Yuki pulled herself together if she lost her nerve now she would regret it forever. "Taemin-san, I just wanted to tell you that you are the biggest inspiration in my life. Thank you for pursuing your dreams to the fullest and for always pushing yourself to become even greater. You bring joy to all of us and I want you to know that I love you." Yuki blushed as she said this last part, but she never looked away from his eyes and she was so happy that her voice hadn't wavered either. "I know you can't take a picture with me because of the rules but please sign this," she said taking out her SIRIUS pamphlet and handing it to him with a pen from her SIRIUS bag with all of the little mini Taemin pins she had collected on it. She hoped he found it cute and not embarrassing. Taemin laughed while taking the booklet and pen gently from her hands. It was like a song his laughter. She wished she could pause this moment and never leave his presence. Taemin looked up at her his eyes changed in an instant from warm brown to deep crimson and Yuki covered her mouth in shock. "Be careful what you wish for Yuki Sakamaki," he said in her mind. "I may really decide not to let you go." Yuki felt paralyzed by those beautiful crimson eyes. She didn't move as Taemin brought his hand to her face brushing his thumb across her cheek, the cool metal of his ring making her shiver. He pulled her chin closer to his face. But his aura wasn't the same as the Taemin Yuki had seen on stage. He opened his mouth and two small fangs formed from his perfect set of white glistening teeth. "You're a vampire!" Yuki said in disbelief. "Does that mean you don't want my autograph?" Vampire Taemin said with the most seductive smile she had ever seen. "Are you afraid of me?" he asked, moving his hand to her shoulder. "I should be, but I'm not." Yuki admitted silently since she knew he heard her. "I've always believed you to be otherworldly," She said with a laugh. "I guess I was right." Yuki's heart raced faster as Taemin pressed his lips to her neck, his fangs brushing her skin gently before coming down hard and piercing her. Yuki let out a scream at the sudden pain, but it soon turned into a moan as he began to suck her blood. His hand traveled from her shoulder to the small of her back pulling her closer and she let herself fall into him as if it were a kiss. He removed his fangs licking the droplets of blood left behind with the tip of his tongue. Yuki trembled at the heat he emanated around her and tugged him closer. He came near to her ear and whispered "Don't mistake me for my mortal shadow-self again," his breath on her ear was a feather-light kiss as he said, "we are quite different him and I. If you're smart, you'll forget about both of us." Then he was gone and all that was left behind was Yuki's SIRIUS booklet that he'd placed in her hands with the note: Meet me in Shukkeien Garden if your curiosity gets the best of you. - Francesco.

Yuki had sworn to herself that she would not go to him but two days later she found herself taking a flight to Hiroshima and making her way to Shukkeien Garden. She read and reread Taemin’s Francesco’s note through the entire hour and a half flight and rode a bus the rest of the way. The garden was a paradise of miniature trees and a beautiful pond at its center. Small pink buds clung to a few branches she passed as she made her way through the circular path and caught sight of a tea house ahead. Before she could decide whether to make her way to it alone or stay on the path and wait, Francesco appeared beside her as if he’d apparated there.

“You came,” Francesco’s hair was still ebony black but this time it fell over his forehead and into his luminous blue eyes. His contacts made her wonder again for the millionth time if she had been mistaken over Taemin being a vampire and maybe the red eyes were contacts and she was being played by some very elaborate prank but now that she was here with him again she had the distinct feeling that Francesco really wasn’t Taemin and knowing that made her ever more cautious of his intentions.

“Francesco, I came for answers only you can give me I need to kno…”

Francesco stopped her with a light hand at her shoulder as he began to guide her in the direction of the café. He pulled up his black hoodie but seemed confident enough that he wouldn’t be recognized to order for them both, a cold coffee for himself and some of the shops freshly brewed tea for her. They sat in the bench outside overlooking the pond and for a moment Yuki was content enough to watch as Francesco held the plastic cup from the lid and took long sips from the straw. She remembered how Taemin held his cups in much the same way but she didn’t dare voice the thought. But then was he reading her mind even now? Angry at the power he held over her she turned away from him and sipped her own hot tea, the styrofoam cup warming her fingers.

“You want to know why I look like him down to every freckle don’t you? Why I may have some of his mannerisms and carry his voice?”

Yuki met his eyes and squeezed her cup a bit tighter.

“Remember last time we meet I mentioned my Shadow-self?” She nodded. “Shadow-selves are more often referred to as doppelgängers… He paused looking to the pond before continuing. “Yuki…” The ease with which he said her name made her feel oddly closer to him, as if they had known each other somewhere or rather sometime before. “Many years ago I did something to anger some very influential people and I regret that I wasn’t the only one to suffer from the curse I brought upon us.” The seriousness in his voice made Yuki’s back straighten and she braced herself for the words to come.

“You may not believe this but I meet you during the Asuka period, as a demon my role in life is to reap the souls of the living and even though it was your time, I could not bring myself to take you down with me. This angered the Balance of our world and you became a symbol of everything I strived to become.” Francesco’s laugh was loud and genuine as he said, “I remember when I found you hunting a demon who had killed your family. Do you remember it Yuki?

“I believe you can show me my lost memory,” even as she said it she knew it to be true. Yuki took Francesco’s hands in her own and closed her eyes, the world seemed to swirl and melt into a long forgotten memory:

Yuki knelt in the snow outside of Good Eye tavern under the window that overlooked the back of the room. Her palms were slick with sweat as she grabbed the hilt of her dagger harder and watched the revelry within. She watched Makoto down his fifth cup of sake, his pockets becoming as empty as his addled mind as he continued to gamble the night away.

Just yesterday, she would have been one of those tavern girls who stood behind him now, whispering the opponent’s hand in honeyed tones against his ear. Just yesterday, she would have been the girl serving the sake, would have been the one to receive those unwanted caresses at the knee, and would have been forced to mask her disgust with sweet smiles. But not today. Today she was death incarnate; her blade would run through his body just as he had run through her parents and little sister for nothing more than a few meager gold coins. Tonight, revenge filled her heart. She knew now after weeks of tracking him down and serving at the Good Eye just what hatred felt like.

Hate flourishes not in the deep murky caverns of the mind like she’d thought in her naive days, but in the warm sunrooms where happy guests are seated to tea and their host's thoughts are deviant but filled with patience. Before long, that patience grows thin and that hatred turns to their blades as a vessel. The host’s hands are then soon stained with the blood of their guest.

Yuki lifted the hood of her black cloak over her head to hide her moon-white braided hair beneath it. The tavern owner, Akhil, was about to throw Makato out at any moment and she would be ready. Yuki pulled another throwing knife from her boot cuff and climbed to the roof of the tavern. She’d gauged the exact spot on the roof she would need to wait in to strike the killing shot. Just when she was in place, the tavern’s little golden bell chimed with the arrival of a new customer. Yuki cursed under her breath as Makato was thrown into the snow. The new customer had blocked her shot by standing in front of Makato like a shield while he fought with Akhil and pleaded with him, “Just one drink”.

The angry customer hidden under his gray cloak practically lifted Akhil two feet off the ground. Yuki, transfixed by the spectacle, almost missed Makato who was crawling away in a drunken snake-like slither, leaving a path in the snow. Goddess be damned, she thought as more people came outside to watch the fight unfold. She couldn’t kill him with this crowd. Careful not to make a sound, Yuki lowered herself to the ground again and followed Makato as he crawled into the woods. It was a wonder that Makato didn’t give up and fall against a tree, with how slowly he walked. The bitter cold was the only thing keeping him in check. It tore at his bones, and the foul wind howled at him to keep on living his worthless life. Yuki raised her throwing knives again, this time with Makato right before her, she knew she could not miss.

She was right! The knives hit their mark with perfect accuracy, right between the shoulder blades. Makato howled as the knives pierced him, and soon the pure snow turned crimson around him.

“This is for my family you bastard,” Yuki screamed. She refused to shed a single tear. It was not the first time she’d killed, and it would be far from her last. This was simply the first time she’d known the victims of her victim. The empire had hired her as their assassin on her fifteenth birthday and she’d done the job, not only for its pay, but for the glory of it. Her father had been the general of the emperor and had taught her to fight since she was old enough to walk. She’d bathed in the blood of war and fallen into hell and back for nothing better than what this man in front of her had killed her family for: greed.

But now this greed was fueled by hatred; hatred for what this man had done to her family, hatred for what the empire had made her into, and hatred of herself. Yuki knew she was too valued to the empire, too skilled in the art of murder to ever give it up now. It was a game and she simply played it better than others.

Yuki walked away from Makato but as she did, she could hear the furious roar of an animal. She turned, and there before her what use to be a man was now a massive brown bear in his place. It stood three times her height on its hind legs. Its dagger-like teeth gleamed under the moonlight and his eyes, oh gods, his eyes, were as red as the blood that had just spilled from him.

She pulled two shurikens from her waist holster and aimed between the eyes. The throwing stars embedded themselves into the bear’s skull, but it only seemed to enrage him more. The bear continued toward her on all fours. She threw dagger after dagger at him, but the bear did not waver. She only had one knife left now, and she doubted that it would make much of a difference. The Makato in front of her now was in the form of what she imagined he’d looked like inside. This was what rage and hatred looked like, tough fur and blazing eyes. He just might devour her, but not without a fight.

Just as she let her last knife fly, a whistle of air passed her quick as a breath, and a figure jumped down from the trees above. It was the hooded customer who had been turned away at the tavern. He was the reason she’d confronted Makato in the woods instead of where she’d wanted to take him down. As he stepped between her and Makato, Yuki’s blade, that had been meant for the beast, sunk into the stranger’s back just as his sword ran the bear through in one swift movement. The bear gave one last deranged cry before falling backward onto the snow.

The stranger turned from the fallen beast to Yuki and pulled back his gray hood to reveal a face not much older than her own. The scar across his left eyebrow was the only thing that marred his almost femininely beautiful features. Yuki remembered the way he’d lifted the tavern owner and wondered where all the strength from his small frame came from.

He pulled her blade from his shoulder and wiped it with his hood. “Here. I’m sure you’ll need it again soon,” he said, flipping over the blade, and handing it hilt first toward her. She took it.

“How did you kill him? I’ve thrown six daggers at him already and nothing happened.”

“You can’t kill a demon with blades like yours,” he said while cleaning the blood off his own sword now, “you need blessed metal to kill a higher demon.”

“So that’s what Makato was. I can’t say I’m surprised,” Yuki said. Remembering those crimson eyes made her shiver.

“You would have killed a lesser demon with those knives, but one of his rank is harder to exorcise,” he said placing his sword in its sheath. “Also, you might say ‘thank you’, seeing as I just saved your life. And if I may ask,” he moved one step closer, “why were you tailing my target? Is the empire hiring two assassins per job these days?”

“I would have done just fine without your intervention and I have far more claim on this particular target than you do. I didn’t take him for money this time. I hated that man. He killed my family in cold blood.”

The stranger laughed at that, and she noted a very distinct mole at the corner of his nose as it crinkled, his brown eyes seemed to twinkle as he said, “A piece of advice, Honey, in this line of work let no one drag you down through the mud far enough to hate them. That hatred will turn on you, make you reckless, predictable, and stupid, then no one will be around to save you.”

“Wait,” she said as he pulled his hood back up and began to walk away. “Who really sent you? Was it Takashi?” She wondered if maybe the new general of the empire really did care about his assassins or maybe he just thought of her as invaluable. She’d never missed a target before. “Did Takashi send you because he found out my target was a demon?”

“Only scum work under the man who didn’t care to inform you that almost every target you have killed so far was in fact a demon. I don’t serve under the general, but Her Majesty and Honey,” his smile made her want to punch him, “the monsters from your nightmares are real. They crawl this earth before your eyes. After all, don’t humans act like beasts.”

“Wait,” she called after him again, but he was gone, vanishing amidst the trees and snowflakes. She lifted her head and caught a few on her tongue. Her body stiffened when she gazed behind herself at the fallen beast. She wasn’t going to lose her place in the assassins’ guild just because of one flowery man too quick with a sword. She pulled out her newly cleaned knife and turned toward the demon in the snow.

The entire court gasped as Yuki walked down the throne room holding the severed head of a bear. Blood spilled onto the lush carpet as she walked. The shocked looks and fainting ladies of the court were worth the trouble she’d be in for this stunt. Takashi’s eyes were stern and unamused as she placed the head at his feet.

“I figured you’d like to mount this on your wall,” she whispered to him as sweetly as she had when she’d poured poisoned sake into Makato’s mug. “Whenever you look at it think of me.” Yuki leaned closer to Takashi, palm outstretched to receive her pay: five-hundred gold pieces that she had been promised. Yuki had loosened her long braid before coming into the hall so that now her hair fell past her shoulders. She’d exchanged her leather for a comfortable pair of trousers and a white blouse.

“Yuki, your pay has already been given away. Don’t try to deny that you did not kill that beast,” Takashi said looking down into the open eyes of the head fisted between her palm. “Please leave before Her Majesty sees the mess you’ve made in her hall.”

Just then, Empress Haruko entered with her entourage of court ladies in her wake. Dressed in fine silk kimonos with elaborate designs, they each had fans tied with a small rope at their waists. The Empress was the only one ornamented with jewelry, her headdress made up of golden flower pins. The man who had stolen her victory walked in behind them, his beauty surpassed that of any of the ladies present, including Her Majesty. He’d exchanged his gray cloak and trousers for a light green kimono that, while far simpler than any of the court ladies, only brought more attention to his features and long black hair, which he’d gathered in a topknot and fastened with a single gold clip. He looked more like The King’s cupbearer than a member of the assassins’ guild. Yuki’s eyes met his and he quickly looked away.

“Is this blood staining the sacred stone of my chamber, General Takashi?”

“Your Majesty,” Takaishi said, quick to kneel before her, “It is an offering to you from the gods. This blood and animal’s head represents your good fortune to come. The assassins’ guild is holding a ceremony in Your Grace’s honor.”

This seemed to appease her as she took her place on the throne and Takashi summoned a servant to clean the blood. As Takashi rose from kneeling, he leaned into Yuki’s ear and said, “The empire no longer requires your services, Yuki, you can crawl back into the sewers with the rest of the vermin. I believe Taemin,” he said, resting his gaze on her newfound finely dressed adversary as he leaned down to hear The Queen who whispered something to him, “can take it from here.” Yuki picked Takashi’s coin purse and left the hall. She didn’t look back.

I’ve lost my position to the empresses’ new lapdog; how pathetic can I be? Yuki let out a few choice words and gulped from her flask. Her throat felt raw and her stomach empty, but she didn’t want to move from the piano bench. She always came to the old village concert hall when she felt upset. It was the only place that really felt like home anymore, even if it was half-burned by a fire; a fire she had started. For someone who couldn’t even read notes, she sat here far too often.

Yuki gently rested her fingers on the piano’s singed ivory keys. They were now covered in ashy soot and some flats were chipped, but the piano she found still played a tune; a haunting melody that somehow resonated with her feelings at the exact moment she played them. Yuki had swapped her trousers and blouse for one of the costume dresses she’d found mostly unharmed in a wardrobe. It was white with the long draping sleeves of a goddess’s gown from a painting she’d seen long ago. She supposed it was from one of the many plays that had taken place at this stage. Maybe one she’d seen with her father when she’d been younger. But after her parents had been killed, she’d felt the urge to unleash her wrath on this place of harmony. Why should others laugh and sing in a world so dark? She’d brightened it that night with the flames of her hatred. The fire had flourished till every instrument, except for this piano, were nothing but dust. Yuki’s hands came down on the keys hard and the sound that emanated was chaos; the most familiar kind of melody. She cursed this place, she cursed how she used to be, and her good memories.

“You have quite the sword for a tongue.”

“How did you find me here?” she said, her voice weary.

“Takashi told me you come here often. I’ve been here once or twice myself,” Taemin said. He walked up to the stage and lifted a piece of the floorboard. He pulled out a koto she hadn’t known survived the flames and blew on it to release the dust. It seemed he really must come here often to know it was there.

“I used to play on this stage,” Taemin said. “Terrible what happened to it,” he tried to meet her eyes, but Yuki looked away. In his silk kimono and fastened hair, he looked in costume already, like an emperor’s son who had run away from the throne to become a minstrel. He stood on the stage with her, only the beam of light from the moon coming from the broken rooftop lit the stage, as well as the solitary candle she’d placed on the piano, its wax already filling more than half of its basin.

Taemin sat on the stage and placed his thumb, index finger, and middle finger against the white strings of the koto. Then he closed his eyes and plucked the instrument with elegant strokes, the ends of his kimono sleeves moving with him. The melody stirred something inside her; it made her angry, it made her weep, it made her smile. She raised her fingers to the piano keys before her and this time she followed his tune. As they played, she felt even more hollow, like this had been the joy she’d wiped out of her own life and the lives of so many others. The tears streamed from her face now even when Taemin had stopped playing and walked toward her; she kept on.

“Do you feel this pain? This is how the souls you’ve sent to hell feel in their purgatory,” Taemin said. “This is how the many demons and innocent blood you’ve shed spend their days.” Yuki froze and looked up at Taemin; his face, that had been lovely and peaceful only minutes before while playing, had turned hard, and his gaze pierced her with so many needles that she had to blink.

“You know, Takashi never said anything about this concert hall. I can smell the blood of my people’s murderer for miles.” He placed one pale hand atop her head and stroked her hair as gently as he’d played the koto. “This moon-white hair was a beacon that lead me to you, it can be seen even from the pits of Yomi and most importantly, from my throne.” Taemin’s eyes turned from warm brown to crimson, the same blood-red eyes of the demon bear he had killed in the woods. Yuki knew who this man before her was now. She knew why he’d killed one of his own servants only to corner her now. He was the king of demons, a reaper of souls who had come to collect his pay. So many of his monsters had died by her blade, whether she had known it or not, and he wanted compensation.

Yuki tried to move, tried to reach her iron short sword hidden in her gown, but his music had done something to her body. She felt paralyzed, and at this point her survival instincts were almost nonexistent. She’d done enough, killed enough to deserve this fate. If the king of the underworld had worked this hard to track her down, enough to disguise himself as an assassin, hypnotize an entire court and the empress herself in order to get to her, then she was ready.

After all, she was just like him, a demon hiding under human skin, clawing to release the hatred that always followed nipping at her heels letting her have no peace. Like a restless river that she waded deeper and deeper into till she’d surely drown. She could still hear the howls of the beasts she’d killed, all lecherous and iron-toothed. She could remember each of their names. As Taemin’s dagger drew closer to her chest, she smiled, at last she would be home. But before the dagger could pierce her soul he embraced her instead.

“I have never known a woman so fearless of heart and yet a purity shines within your soul. Even damned as you are to the darkness of Yomi you do not belong in the land of the dead. I wish to see your sadness turn to smiles and see those smiles directed at me,” he said taking her face in his.

His gentleness surprised her and so did the sincerity of his words, she saw the truth in his eyes and she wasn’t afraid. She covered his hand at her cheek with her own and said, “Perhaps life is still worth living but I’ve lost the reason for it long ago.”

“Can you remind me what being alive feels like I haven't felt that way in centuries?” Taemin said bringing his forehead to rest against her own.

Yuki brought her lips to his and whether they had known it or not the heavens and the high priests of hell had been watching and grew displeased at the disturbance of balance.

“Yuki! Are you alright?” Taemin had his hands on both of her shoulders as she came out of her lost memories.

Yuki looked at the concern on Taemin’s face and squeezed his hands to reassure him that she was alright.

After she had enough time to catch her breath she said, “I’m not the only Yuki you’ve told this to over the centuries, am I? The curse you said you endured we endure together. There are human duplicates made in your likeness on this earth who reincarnate as I do. And every time we cross paths through every lifetime you must endure seeing me with someone else in your image, am I right Taemin?”

“I only go by Francesco now Yuki. You are right, You live and you love and you die and you do it all without me but somehow someway you always die a terrible death at a young age that breaks both me and my shadow-self to pieces. Do you know what torment I go through seeing you live through that pain again and again,” Francesco said as he leaned his forehead against hers.

“Something strange did happen this time though because while my shadow-selves are usually made in my image it was never this close a resemblance, never this close a connection. I feel his emotions more deeply and find myself connected to this current Idol child more than I have ever before. Usually, I feel nothing shared with my doppelgängers but my love for you as if we are two separate beings but this time, I am not so sure it is that simple. I can hear his thoughts sometimes and I worry if our closeness will affect him as well. Yuki, the only way for you to break this cycle of death is to stay away from us but because of my selfishness I dragged you into this again.”

“I would have come anyway Francesco, you know I’d have followed Taemin to the next concert as soon as I could.”

“Spend the rest of today and tomorrow with me? I’m leaving after and I know the perfect place you’ve been wanting to go” he said.

Yuki knew she couldn’t resist the chance of spending the day with him. Her pull to Francesco and Taemin were far stronger than she wanted to admit but at that moment, she was thankful for it. Here beside her stood someone who truly understood her, loved her, watched her die in a thousand ways and still risked everything to be with her. If the tables had been turned and she had been the one to watch him suffer over and over would she have endured it?

“Then what are we waiting for, let’s go.”

The late-night flight to Okinawa had lasted six hours and Yuki had fallen asleep on Francesco’s shoulder to her humiliation for most of it. He’d told her when she’d awoken that looking into the past can take a strong toll on a mortal’s body. Yuki’s excitement to be in Okinawa Churaumi Aquarium was unparalleled. It was were Taemin had gone on his SIRIUS tour and just the thought of it made Yuki giddy with excitement though she tried to suppress it for Francesco’s sake she knew he felt it. Francesco smiled at Yuki’s enthusiasm to make a beeline for the whale sharks as she passed the pages of the map they were given at the entrance.

It still felt strange separating both Francesco and Taemin as two completely different people entirely. But no matter whom Francesco looked like she knew the experiences of both men were profoundly different. On top of that Taemin was a mortal, an angelic, ethereal mortal but a mortal none the less and he could not find out about Francesco at any cost.

“Yuki I found it! Francesco pointed at the glass with a grin as he motioned to the white spotted whale shark with a small gray fish following at his underbelly. Francesco watched Yuki press her hands to the glass and laughed when she pressed her nose to it as well. “Look over here so we can get a picture with the gentle beast.” Francesco pulled out his phone and caught the perfect shot of the shark just between their heads.

“I guess this means you’ll have to send me your contact information now,” Yuki said snatching his phone from his hands. “Or I guess I’ll be imputing mine,” she said as she added herself as a new contact.

“Yuki you know that’s a bad idea,” Francesco said reaching for the phone as she raised it above her head. He followed after her as she went to see the eels in the next tank and she slipped the phone back to him and took his hand.

“I know we only have a short time and that it's foolish to-”

“Dangerous to-” He corrected.

“I just want to pretend for the rest of the day that we don’t have to say goodbye at the end of it,” she said meeting his eyes. It terrified her that she could see his sadness beneath his smiles.

“Okay,” he squeezed her hand tighter. “You are going to have the day of your life Yuki Sakamaki.”

He wasn’t wrong. The hours to come gave her more joy than she had ever dreamed of and it wasn’t just that Churaumi was one of the largest aquariums in the world but it was the growing feelings she couldn’t shake around him. Yuki had already been in love with Taemin and her past self had already loved Francesco and though she knew it was wrong to compare them she knew the reason she loved them both was really because Taemin was a mortal incarnation of Francesco himself. Seeing Francesco come to life as he animatedly spoke about all of the different fish in the aquarium calling them all by name and telling her of his many swims in the ocean made her heart soar. She knew that Francesco and Taemin were connected far more than he’d like to let on. This shadow-self, unlike the others, held similarities that even he feared. What if it was because the curse was ending and soon enough there would be no more diluted parts of Francesco to give? He already felt and heard the things Taemin did so would the passing of his mortal soul hold an effect on his as well? Yuki worried that this was the plan the heavens had in store for him, ripping out Francesco’s heart wasn’t enough, it was his immortality they longed to steal and place a new king on hell’s throne.

“I can breathe underwater,” he said pulling her out of her disparaging thoughts and back to the food stand they stopped at. “I’ve spent so much time underwater in some of the darkest parts of the sea that go even deeper than the tunnels of the underworld. There are so many bizarre creatures down there that the mortals still have yet to discover, Yuki. Do you remember when one of my shadow-selves was a pirate captain and you were the cheekiest of vixens with hair brighter than the flames of hell.”

Yuki surprised herself by knowing exactly what he meant. In those days her father had wanted her to marry the wealthy son of a clerk and she had run away by moonlight. Bess Gallagher dressed in doe-hide breeches slipped her way into the most cunning, infamous of gangs and pledged her life to piracy. When her ship The Coffin waged battle and seized The Magpie she captured the unfortunate vessel’s captain in more ways than one and once the red knot had been tied and a babe was on the way she died a terrible death at the mercy of the sea and to her watery grave.

“I was quite spirited then wasn’t I.”

“You’ve always been that way Yuki,” Francesco said as he moved her hair behind her ear, his touch lingering and reminding her of the feel of his lips against her neck, his fangs against her skin. “You are still the strongest woman I have ever known you just haven’t realized it completely in this life yet, you don’t quite know quite what you’re capable of” he said as he drew his thumb across the top of her eyebrow and she closed her eyes as his fingers traveled down her cheek. She opened her eyes quickly when her back came in contact with the wall behind her and Francesco’s hand slammed against it.

“Francesco, If you wanted to pull a Kabedon there are much less dramatic ways of-”

“Shhh, honey.” With one hand against her lips he brought the other from the wall and held his hand out to her. She was thankful that it had been there to quite her for if not she would have screamed. There in the palm of his right hand lay a large dead redback spider. Francesco pulled away from her and in one quick swoop, he swallowed the poisonous creature.

“Francesco!”

“Shhh you’ll bring attention to us,” he said as he took her hand and lead her away from the crowd.

“Now I definitely won’t be confusing you with Taemin anymore after that stunt,” Yuki said her heart still pounding widely though she wasn’t sure if it was from the sight of Francesco eating an insect or his proximity from moments before.

“How many times do I have to clarify that Taemin and I are much more different than you think. Also, I’m not afraid of insects.”

“He’s no coward Francesco, mortals have fears and trepidations it makes them human,” Yuki said a bit annoyed now.

“I never said he was Yuki.” Francesco looked up at the darkening sky with a sigh their day was close to an end. “Come, I have one more thing to show you and I’m afraid this time you will surely compare me to him.

The music shop was large and not many customers were there at this late hour. It was half an hour till closing time but somehow Francesco convinced the man behind the counter to let him use the piano room in the back where they could be alone. Yuki stood by the hood of the grand piano at the center of the room and Francesco placed his hands gently to the ivory keys.

“The song I’m about to sing is one Taemin will release next year, I’ve heard how it is sung from our connection and I can’t escape from the feeling that it’s about us three. Somewhere in the mortal’s subconscious mind, I believe he knows something as well.”

Before she could say a word, Yuki was transfixed as the hauntingly beautiful melody and Francesco’s voice-Taemin’s voice filled the room.

“Memories of being in love come back You follow me around and pester me every day You’re like a shadow

Your voice that echoed on and on in my ears Won’t leave me Though I run away, I’m still in the same place Oh you’re like a shadow”

The song was about yearning, heartbreak, loss, and haunting spirits but she understood what Francesco meant when he said it reminded him of their story and of their forgotten memories. Perhaps Taemin was also searching for this shadow-side of himself that he knew was lost to him. Perhaps he felt the yearning that Francesco felt for her in some crazy intuitive way. She didn’t know why the bond between Francesco and Taemin was stronger than any Shadow-self that had come before but she did sense the danger ahead of them.

“Only the splintered memories Sink deeper and deeper into my heart A crack of light comes back And your shadow stabs me again

Though I hide in the dark again and again You chase after me You won’t leave me Though I run away, I’m still in the same place Oh you’re like a shadow”

When Francesco finished, he looked up at her and met her glazed eyes with a tormented expression of his own. She never felt so blessed and yet drained of life all at once, his voice and those words made her feel things in the way no one else could. He knew that their love would never be enough to stop their fate if they continued to meet she would die and saying goodbye was the only way to keep her alive, at least for now.

Just as Yuki was about to break the silence a large gust of wind swept through the room and there before her in a blanket of mist stood the bronze gates of hell with its many beautifully carved yet intimidating figures and its ever more frightening inscription: Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.

Yuki swallowed as the enormous doors opened and a black snake came slithering into the piano room and onto Francesco’s arm.

“Yuki meet my Familiar Mizuchi, Mizuchi this is-”

“I know who the girl is my lord no need to make a fuss,” The snake said elongating her S’s and looking at Yuki as if she wanted to eat her alive for touching her master.

“Now Mizuchi, be polite,” he said petting her head. “I’m sorry Yuki, she can be quite protective of me-”

“We have no time for this my lord, the high priests are gathered at the Inferno Court to discuss current affairs, you must come back before they notice where you have gone.”

“She’s right Francesco.” Though it took all of her strength to stand before him and say goodbye Yuki refused to cry. However, when he embraced her tightly in his arms and kissed her forehead she felt her resolve weakening as he opened the gates of hell and steeped into the mist, the doors closing firmly behind him with a bang that shook her core. She didn’t know how to end a cycle that had gone on for centuries, but for this moment she wanted to be with him, no matter the cost and she swore to herself she’d find a way.

This was my first try at Tumblr fanfic. I hope you enjoyed it 6v6

Thank you @taemeyouloveme for your kind support and inspirational writings:)

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myassbrokethefall · 6 years

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Do you have any favorite scifi shows? Or any recommendations?

Well! This is a fun ask. Let me see…

So, I really like sci-fi, but sometimes I also don’t like sci-fi. I overdosed a little bit on spaceship stuff after my years of Star Trek obsession and then BSG (and like, I hear The Expanse is great but I just…haven’t been in the mood), and these days my favorite sci-fi is talky, high-concept atmospheric mystery stuff in a fairly realistic world where something is a little bit weird. What I really DON’T like is violence/shooting/chasing/action, and a lot of sci-fi, unfortunately, is that. (Westworld, I am looking at your ass.) I also am a LITTLE bit over sci-fi as sledgehammery social parable, again a la Star Trek. Even though I’ll always love Star Trek (and will get around to watching Discovery one of these days).

Some sci-fi TV that I’ve enjoyed recently includes:

(hey surprise, this got very long! so it’s under a cut)

Dark. There’s just one season of this on Netflix right now, but I LOVVVVVED it. Talk about atmospheric. It made me want to move to Germany and live in a forest where it rains all the time. It’s in German – this isn’t a bother to me because I like subtitles, but it’s available dubbed as well if you prefer that. It takes place in a small town and starts with a missing child, and it quickly becomes clear that something strange is going on. Time travel is an element. A central part of it becomes about the way all the characters in the town are interconnected and how the events of the past affect the future. It’s part Lost, part Stranger Things, part Back to the Future.

The Returned/Les Revenants. So there’s an American show called The Returned as well, and this is not that one – the one I’m talking about is in French (sorry…I swear some ones without subtitles are coming) and was on uh, IFC or something like that. One day in a(n extremely attractive and cinematic) French town in the mountains, a girl comes home from a class field trip…except she died on that field trip years ago, in a bus accident, and her family is completely shocked and freaked out. The same thing is happening all across town. Includes one (1) very creepy child. Very spooky and also super atmospheric. (One reason I loved Dark so much was that aesthetically it reminded me of Les Revenants.)

The 4400. I binged this show and had a window of time in my life where I was super obsessed with it. Premise is similar to The Returned, actually: A bunch of people (4,400 of them to be precise) who were believed to be the victims of alien abductions – across many years – are returned to earth all at the same time, all at the age they left. So you have a man who was taken in the 1950s (Mahershala Ali!) and a little girl from the 1930s, etc., all dropped back into modern-day America – and most of them (all of them? I forget) have mysterious powers of various kinds. Two police detectives (am I predictable or what) investigate. Things escalate from there. It is a little XF-y in a way I appreciate, while also being totally different (and much less arty than something like Les Revenants).

Stranger Things. I might as well list it…everyone knows about this show but it really is pretty great. Season 1 especially. Huge ET vibes, creepy/Spielbergy, not a cop-out where it’s all a metaphor or something (pet peeve).

Fringe. This isn’t so recent (well, neither is The 4400), but if you like sci-fi and you haven’t watched it, you should! It starts out being a liiiiiiittle bit of a less-hooky ripoff of XF (a group of FBI folks, including a retired mad scientist basically, investigate paranormal cases), but after a few episodes it finds its groove and it becomes its own weird and wonderful thing. It was a show I really enjoyed and it ended satisfyingly. John Noble as Walter Bishop is fantastic, and one thing I really loved about it was that it was not afraid to make things happen and shake up the premise if needed.

Jessica Jones. I really, really am not into Marvel or any of the superhero stuff, but I like this show a lot. It puts the idea of having “powers” in a very grounded kind of gritty, cynical, noir-y setting and I enjoy that. It’s also woman-focused, which is nice, and it’s just different from other stuff on TV. I dig it.

Orphan Black. Man, I loved Orphan Black. What a fun show, and – not necessarily the most important thing to me in a show, but hugely refreshing nonetheless – it’s also very woman-centered. The premise is that a woman named Sarah sees someone who looks exactly like her – right before the doppelganger throws herself in front of a train. And in unraveling the mystery, Sarah learns that she’s a clone and she has a bunch of “sisters.” Tatiana Maslany is FREAKING AMAZINGGGGG as all the various clones. It is definitely sci-fi, but it’s also a lot of fun and just a fast-moving, action-packed (but not in a way that makes my eyes glaze over) cool-ass show.

Grimm. Grimm was a pretty silly network-y show, but my affection for it really never waned (though it also never really went too far above “mild”). Premise: Basically, that fairytale monsters (broadly speaking) are real and walk among us (disguised for the most part), and there are these people called Grimms who can see them and are supposed to fight them. Lots of ancient documents, old books, mysterious keys, etc. This one dude who is a police detective in Portland (it was shot in Portland and is basically the second Portland-iest show after Portlandia, as far as I can tell) finds out that he’s a Grimm, and he meets this guy who is one of these monsters but also a delightfully civilized clock nerd who becomes his friend and helps him learn about this hidden world, and it’s pretty much monster-of-the-week episodes every week (though there is a mytharc of sorts involving an evil cabal of European royalty or something, snore). I think it’s the people who did Angel (which I never watched; I’m not a Buffy person). It also started the same year as Once Upon a Time, so it was the “other” fairytale show.

The Leftovers. Technically, it’s sci-fi. It’s also just very imaginative storytelling, and is a good example of what I mean by high-concept and atmospheric and something being a little bit weird in an otherwise contemporary setting. (This is a post-Lost Damon Lindelof, and Damon Lindelof has learned from his Lost mistakes, with wonderful results.) The central premise is a sci-fi one (2% of the earth’s population mysteriously vanishes), but aside from that there are also just a lot of kind of fantastic imaginative leaps and surreal settings and…ah, The Leftovers. My standard intro/warning: Season 1, while really good, is VERY depressing; Season 2 becomes marginally less depressing while also changing things up considerably and in my opinion becoming much better; Season 3 is even better than that. Love you, show.

Lost. I suppose I should mention it even though it’s another obvious one. I have rarely been hooked as hard as I was by the pilot of this show. It doesn’t necessarily deliver on everything it promises, and it’s interesting to think of it in terms of it being one of the first shows to, basically, cancel itself – to choose to end so that it could pace its story effectively and lead to a deliberate ending instead of just vamping forever and trying to keep sucking the audience in for one more season until that stopped working and it was canceled. However, before that happened there was some time-killing, and I think that maybe contributes to people’s perception that it didn’t know what it was doing half the time. A divisive ending that I did not have a problem with. If you watch it in the spirit of being taken on a ride and enjoying the feelings that the twists and turns give you in the moment, you’ll find it more satisfying than if you’re trying to solve every mystery and trying to make it all work out perfectly with every loose end tied up.

The OA. This was a weird-ass motherfucking show on Netflix and I still don’t know what the fuck it was about. I feel like I dreamed it. It maybe involves angels? And stuff.

Carnivale. Lord, talk about atmosphere. This was an HBO show several years ago now about a creepy traveling circus in the 1930s. Being on HBO, it’s very violent and dirty and twisted and stuff. I was obsessed with it, and loved watching it although I vaguely remember the ending being not super satisfying? I should rewatch it, really, because I have forgotten a lot about it beyond impressions (it started in 2003). It’s not that sci-fi, but it has kind of mysterious portents and shit like that all over the place. Anytime I see anything remotely carnival-y I’m like AAAHHH CARNIVALE

Westworld. Sigh…I’m having a lot of trouble connecting to the season of Westworld that’s currently airing (Season 2, on HBO). I loved Season 1. My opinion is that they blew their premise too quickly and now they have nowhere to go – it’s just been violent chaos of the sort that puts me to sleep. Literally – one episode a couple of weeks ago I tried to watch and fell asleep during TWICE – two evenings in a row – before I finally got through it on Day 3. Because it was just a bunch of shooting. But the premise is cool – in the undetermined nearish future, there is a giant elaborate theme park where extremely realistic robots interact with the superrich guests who pay to come and basically be super destructive and violent (this show doesn’t have a particularly high opinion of humanity) in an Old West-themed setting. Like Disney World if your dream was to fuck and murder everyone in the Hall of Presidents. It’s made by one of the Nolans so there are lots of twists and also you don’t know what the hell is going on half the time. But there are some high-budget groovy sci-fi set pieces in it, and if you like amazing piano covers of popular songs (sometimes but not always in the in-show context of the player piano in the saloon), that is a fantastic bonus (the music is terrific overall). ROBOTS.

Battlestar Galactica. Speaking of robots. I loved the hell out of this show, although I have my issues with it. I felt when I first saw it (this is the 2000s remake I’m talking about, not the 1970s original) that it was like Star Trek had grown up. It gets more and more high-concept the longer it goes on, and some people weren’t fans of where it ended up (I, again, was fine with it), but it starts out with a hell of a premise: Cylons (humanlike robots originally created by humanity, which then evolved) destroy almost all of the human race except for a few stragglers in a few scattered ships, who have to pull together and somehow survive. Great acting, great writing, big themes, Laura Roslin.

Black Mirror. This is an anthology series, meaning each one is a short story basically, with different characters, a different near-future setting, and a different premise (often having to do with technology going wrong. In the words of Mallory Ortberg: What If Phones, But Too Much?) Some of them are better than others but if you can take some upsetting conceptual stuff, it’s really a super interesting show. Your bingeing tolerance may vary, but I personally could not handle more than a couple of episodes a night.

Roswell. Holy shit I was so into this fucking teen soap opera about aliens. Also not recent. They might do a remake of this I heard?? MAX + LIZ 4EVA

Millennium. Yes…Chris Carter’s Other Show. I’ve said this before, but in a weird way I feel like this show is…CC’s best work???? Without the chemistry supernova of Mulder and Scully dimming everything around it, the “scary stories” he’s always talking about actually have room to be kind of interesting. It also works with his inclination to do what is essentially an anthology series loosely connected via recurring characters that are almost more narrators/observers than participants. In XF, this makes me want to break things when it results in stagnated character growth and no continuity and endless reset-button-pushing. In Millennium, Frank wandering grimly through the show universe encountering fable after fable (grimmer than XF – less on the stretchy mutants and fat-sucking vampires and lake monsters and Reticulans and spooky green bugs; more serial killers and cults and angels and apocalyptic stuff) actually worked pretty darn well for me. It’s not that the characters aren’t good, but they are VERYYYYY archetypal (kind of like how M&S could have been if not given such aliveness and humanity by David and Gillian, and Morgan and Wong and Vince Gilligan at that). Frank Black is the tormented detective, he has a beautiful kind wife and an innocent young daughter and they live in a beatific yellow house and he has to keep them safe from the evils out in the darkness. You might say this is hammered home a lot. But: the kind of mythic tone of it is a much better fit here than on XF. Lance Henriksen is perfect as Frank, and some of the stories are really absorbing and emotional. I cried during WAY more Millennium episodes (I can think of three or four off the top of my head that I remember WEEPING openly over, one of which stars Darren McGavin) than I ever have at XF.

Everything changes in Season 2 when Morgan and Wong take over as (I believe) showrunners – things lighten up considerably versus S1; there’s even a Darin episode! With Jose Chung! And the Spotnitz Sanitarium! – and then everything changes again in S3 when they leave. The show does suffer from a lack of cohesion in that sense, and frankly the “mytharc” parts never did a lot for me (loosely, the world is going to end in the year 2000 and a cabal of mysterious dudes something something). But there is a lot of cool shit in this show. There really is. Every few years I attempt a rewatch and never finish; I should try again. In late fall, which is the only time Millennium should be watched.

BONUS

Face Off. This isn’t sci-fi per se (it’s a reality competition show, on Syfy), but if you’re a sci-fi person you might love it. The way I describe it to people is very simple: It’s the exact same premise and structure as Project Runway, except instead of fashion, it’s FX makeup. The best thing about it is that everyone is NICE and HELPFUL to each other. It’s a bunch of creative nerds making monsters together and the competition element is there but no one is a dick and there’s no fighting and drama. Michael Westmore, who did the makeup on Star Trek: TNG among many other acclaimed projects, is the mentor (and the dad of the show’s host, McKenzie Westmore), and he pops in to give dad advice to all these starstruck dorks. The new season just started and it’s just a fun show. I have, at times, thought of it as my FAVORITE show on TV.

Well, that was probably more than you wanted, anon! I feel like I’m missing some, too. TV! I like it.

#scifi #this is very long #hit me up with your faves!#how did it get to be 12:30? i might reblog this tomorrow since no one is awake lol #ask: can you recommend any scifi shows?#me: transcribes every thought i have ever had about any scifi show in my entire life #i feel like these answers are all super basic oh well #Anonymous

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mellomedia · 3 years

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Mental Health Crisis in Media

This month’s blog post for Media & Society class is a good fit for what many people are dealing with during this never ending pandemic - the mental health crisis. Our list of films to watch were American Psycho, Donnie Darko, One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, Black Swan, and Parasite. Mental health is something we all need to talk more about. We’ve come a long way since 1975 when One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest was produced, but sadly there’s still many misconceptions about mental health. Most people associate mental health with violent behavior. The vast majority of people with mental health problems are no more likely to be violent than anyone else (“Mental Health Myth,” 2017).

In all of these films, the main characters are coping with a mental health issue. All of them go through a stage of catharsis by the end of the film. Once again, I learned a new word - catharsis. According to Dictionary.com, it is defined as the process of releasing and/or relieving from stronger repressed emotions. The purpose of catharsis is to bring about some form of positive change in the individual's life (Cherry, 2020). Since mental illness is so complex, there are many interpretations of what each viewer thinks someone went through by the end of each film. If you haven’t seen any of the films above, I’ll warn you now about spoiler alerts.

For this assignment we were asked to pick two out of the five films mentioned above, explain the ending of each, and then discuss the connections between these films and their ambiguous endings. I’ll also explain whether I thought each main character went through catharsis. I decided to go with the two films I felt were more challenging for me to understand. I’d also like to add that the two films I’m going to write about really opened my mind to a deeper awareness of mental health. Chan School Dean Michelle Williams makes a powerful statement about mental health during the pandemic. “The past year has been terribly damaging to our collective mental health,” Williams said. “There is no vaccine for mental illness - It will be months, if not years before we are fully able to grasp the scope of the mental health issues born out of this pandemic” (Powell, 2021). Even though these films were all produced pre-pandemic, they provide a better understanding of what someone with mental health issues go through.

First on my list is One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest. The ending of this film definitely had multiple meanings. And I think it had many meanings based on how you perceived McMurphy’s existence at the mental hospital. The way I saw it, McMurphy was the ‘cool guy’ that the other patients looked up to. Throughout the film he shows the other patients they aren’t as mental as Nurse Ratched makes them feel. He “frees” each patient of their mental health issue by having them step out of their comfort zone and literally out of the mental hospital. One part that really gave me a whole different insight of mental illness is when McMurphy hi-jacked a bus with all the patients on it and brought them on a boat ride. As they board the boat, the owner of the shipyard approaches them asking who they are. McMurphy introduces them one by one, “Dr. Martini, Dr. Taber… .” Instead of mental patients THEY were the doctors. As he said each man’s name, they stood tall and proud. It really was a cool moment in the film. I was actually cheering for them in my head. Fast forward to the end of the film, McMurphy ends up getting punished for hosting an out of control party at the mental hospital.

Normally the punishment would be shock therapy, but this time it was a frontal lobotomy. Chief is one of the patients that McMurphy became close with. They planned on escaping the mental facility together after the party. But when Chief saw McMurphy’s scars from the lobotomy, he knew he’d never be himself again. To “free” McMurphy, Chief suffocates him to death, just as McMurphy freed each of the patients he met during his stay. By freed, I mean they were temporarily freed of their mental health disorders, their fears, their anxieties. I do believe that the ending was cathartic for McMurphy. He was released of the suffering he would have to live with after the lobotomy. I was really hoping the ending went like this: McMurphy’s punishment was the usual shock therapy...Chief wakes him up and the two escape. In the closing scene you’d see them walking away from the mental health facility. But the actual ending had much more meaning and made me really understand mental health further. I have a very open mind about mental health issues - I never judge. But this film gave me a deeper understanding of how misunderstood mental health is. Each of the mental patients was dealing with their own anxiety - but how it is handled is key. Nurse Ratched kept each of them in their shell while “think outside the box” McMurphy put their anxiety right in front of them. With mental health, we really need to think outside the box more.

Next on my list is Black Swan. While we caught glimpses of Nina’s dual personality, it was in our face by the end of the film. Nina’s doppelganger is shown through the use of mirrors. We see how she sees herself and at times we see the evil side of her that is emerging. The mirror presented to her the darkness within herself that metaphorically depicted the evolution into the black swan (Nelson, 2013). The pain she inflicted on other people was actually herself. Between Nina being so repressed from herself, and her mom, she really had no chance of escaping her mental state. In my opinion, this film showed how mental health might be a coping mechanism. Nina’s mom kept her in a secluded, isolated world. Nina’s repression was learned from the person she was closest to - her mom. But as Lily and Thomas try to pull Nina out of her confined world, she starts to hurt herself. She’s only able to become the Black Swan after she stabs her perfect white swan self. The way I look at it, once Nina freed herself of who she was, she became who she wanted to be - the perfect ballerina who could fulfill the role of a lifetime. Unfortunately that freedom was death. As with McMurphy, Nina’s motives also led to catharsis by the end of the film. I was hoping that her catharsis was in her head and that she finally achieved her dual role of the swan. But in reality the only way Nina could do that was out of self mutilation and eventually suicide. So obviously I was hoping for a different ending of Black Swan, but it would not have had the eye-opening impact into the reality of mental health.

What connects these two films is their ambiguous endings. I think it’s actually symbolic that a film about mental health has more than one interpretation. Mental health is a complex issue, which would only make sense for the film’s ending to be just as complex. As I mentioned already, I would have written happier endings where Nina realizes she can be both the black and white swan and McMurphy leaves the mental hospital with Chief. But then what would I have learned by endings like that? That everyone gets cured from mental health? That mental health is easy to overcome and prevent? It would send the wrong message. In fact it would send a stereotypical message that people struggling with mental health can easily be ‘fixed.’ Many people don’t understand the very basic concept of mental health - your brain is in control - often there is a chemical imbalance or genetic predisposition to mental health problems (newroadstrmnt, 2018). If you think you know what mental health is and looks like, I urge you to watch these films. They both really showed me a side of mental health I wasn’t aware of.

On a side note, during this pandemic I learned about a very close friend who is going through depression. I had absolutely zero clue he was dealing with this. Just like I didn’t realize at first what Nina was dealing with. I am relieved he is talking to a professional and getting help. But I also know that might not be enough. I don’t harp on it but I always ask him how things are. If he’s having a bad day, I remind him he doesn’t have to deal with anything alone. If you have a friend that is struggling with something, don’t walk away from them. Just be there and listen. Remind them that it’s nothing to be embarrassed about and reaching out for help takes a lot of courage.

Below is a photo of myself I tried some effects on. I was trying to find artwork to share that shows an imbalance of the brain - although that wasn’t my intention when I created it.

Artwork by Marcello Laudato, 2017.

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redditnosleep · 6 years

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M is for Mirror

by porschephiliac

I bought the mirror from my step-father, who had inherited it from his step-father. He claimed he didn’t like it, but after the experiences I’ve had with it, I believe now he did what he could to get rid of it. It was ornamental, seemingly Asian design, and gorgeously stained a deep red mahogany. It had spirals ascending on either side beginning from the bottom, intertwining similar to a caduceus. At the apex of each spiral was some sort of shellfish, either an ornate clam or smooth mollusk. On the rear, it has a small etched logo, simply displaying “MI". Otherwise, there are no marks, chips, or cracks in the wood or glass. It appears to be very old, but looked like it was made only recently, carefully, with an expert hand. It barely fit into my wife’s Town Car, but we managed to load it and keep it mar free in the massive trunk.

When I mounted it on the wall in our living room, I cascaded it across another, more modern, mirror, creating an infinity effect. Unfortunately I failed to attach the hanger to a stud in the wall, using only a nail, and after only a few minutes, it ripped out of the wall and crashed on the ground. My wife and daughter heard it fall, and claim it made the tell-tale tingling of glass fracturing after a thudded impact. When I came in the room and found it lying face down, I turned it over, preparing for the worse. I feared the $6,000 I “invested” in it would be trash, but as I lifted it, I found it was perfectly intact. At the time, it was a rather large investment for a young English teacher like myself, having followed in my father’s footsteps.

My wife, thirty-seven, and my daughter, now eleven, have always been credible, other than flirtatious white lies from the wife, and giggle-fibs from my little girl. I didn’t doubt their claims about the noise it made, yet showing them the evidence, they both appeared dumbfounded at it, and glanced awkwardly at each other.

I purchased the correct anchors and brackets to really secure the mirror and installed it the next morning. I added an even more secure joint, not wanting it to ever fail. When I hung it on the wall and peered into it, I found the reflection of the first infinite wave from the opposite mirror, but it had changed. What before was an infinity effect, was now the old mirror in the reflection of my modern mirror, showing a glorious mosaic of fractured cracks. I spun my head and inspected the mirror I just hung, and it was again and still blemish free.

I called out to my wife and as she arrived I told her to look at the mirror. She looked, looked at the modern one, and quickly glanced back, just as I did, confirming my experience. She stared at me slack-jawed, and my daughter entered the room. She asked what we were looking at, and when we tried to show her, she couldn’t see the reflected cracks. Scratching our heads, we simply dismissed it and headed out to the ice cream shoppe.

I would find out later that the red flag of refracted cracks should have prompted me to remove it. No one but my wife and I saw the cracked mirror. We would entertain occasional guests and friends, family would visit, and no one noticed anything odd. No one announced any odd feelings felt from it, even in my immediate group, and often we received compliments on its beauty and condition. Weeks turned into months, and once a year and seven months passed, a day before two weeks in, I first noticed a slightly askew view in the perception of the modern mirror.

I happened to walk past the old mirror and casually glanced into it. I saw myself in the reflection, but my head was turned a different direction, only slightly. I stopped my trot, spun around and stood directly in front of the old mirror, and stared at my own face, cautiously, momentarily. I watched as my face, no, my head turned slowly to the left, not breaking contact with my own eyes. My daughter walked in the room from the left just a second after my head in the mirror turned, and I realized that I too turned my head just as the mirror did.

Neither my refracted doppelganger or myself broke eye contact. I thought to myself about those comedic moments in cartoons and some movies where a person meets his twin, convinced it’s a mirror, and starts doing silly things to test it. Sometimes it’s a mirror, sometimes it’s a twin. Just as I considered the Marx Brothers famous Duck Soup mirror scene in which Harpo pretends to be Grouchos’ reflection, the twin raised his hand and waved at me. I gasped and, in all honesty, let out a shart.

I startled back a step and stared intently at the waving hand. It seemed like me, it moved like mine, even sharing the same scar as mine from when I had cut it with a carving knife one unfortunate Thanksgiving ago. I realized that as I was looking at its wave, I was waving too, my hand feeling alien instead of normal. It seemed to be that whatever it did in the mirror, only seconds later I would copy it, but it felt like an echoed delay. I was instantly uncomfortable and I quickly left the room and found my wife.

We conversed about it and she agreed that she had noticed peculiarities from it, such as noticing a piece of furniture moved in the mirror, but not in the room. She’d return later to see the room rearranged to mimic the mirror, but originally assumed our daughter had done it. Later she noticed in the reflection a book on a table, but again not in the room. She found that same book on her nightstand that evening. The book was the first Harry Potter book, one of her favorites. She found that the chapter which featured Harry sitting with the Magic Mirror and his dead parents was earmarked. An obvious omen, but overlooked as coincidence. Her repeated mantra was “it feels like a bad dweam” every time she commented on this odd situation.

We decided then and there that it was time to take it down. I’d sell it, probably for a fraction of my investment, or cover and store it. We headed downstairs and found our daughter talking to the mirror, to herself. Our interruption disturbed her, and we asked who she was talking to. She simply said “myself, duh” and hopped away. My wife and heaved the thing up off the clevis joint I made and set it down.

As I turned to grab a hold of it from behind, I looked straight on into the modern mirror, and saw an oddness. The reflection showed the mirror still in place, still cracked, still hanging on the wall. At the base of it was my daughter – lying still in a pool of her own blood. I remained fixated on the scene, unable to turn away. I was standing in the spot that the mirror showed my dead or dying daughter. For a brief moment, the scene changed to my wife and I having kinky relations in the blood puddle, including an awkward mustache ride. The love-making session evolved until the two us, covered in blood, merged into one, hideously large, woman. She grabbed at her thigh, ripping flesh off, and daintily placed it into her mouth.

As she consumed herself, she morphed back to my daughter. I looked closer, getting tunnel vision, and I strained to see the faintest of movement from her body. That’s when I noticed an angled reflection in the blood – a face, my face. My face stared back at me from the puddle. Once I made eye contact with it, it started to rise up out of the puddle, taking a crimson form as the volume and mass increased. The body of my daughter seemed to wisp away, as if a vacuum was sucking her inside itself. As my copied, bloodied form emerged, she steadily grew smaller.

My wife grabbed my arm and shook me, pulling me out of the hypnotic trance I was in. I stole a look at her, then right back to the mirror on the other wall – all was as it should have been. I saw myself, bracing the mirror against my bosom, my wife adjacent staring deeply at me, and my daughter standing to the other side of me. I looked away from my wife and glanced at my girl, but she wasn’t there. Back in the mirror, she wasn’t either, seemingly disappearing from both realities. I wasn’t quite sure what I had seen, and I buried the ideation away into lost cabinet rearward of my mind.

Later that evening, I wrapped the mirror up in some old blankets, tied the bundle, and moved the package to the shed. My wife had already had some photos of the thing saved from earlier, and she listed it in all the sales and markets she could.

Later that evening, we watched a newer romance on VHS, cuddling on the couch. During the scene in which Tom Hanks reaches the top of the Empire State Building and runs into Meg Ryan, curing his sleeplessness, the screen faded darkly for just a second, and in that second, a bloodied me was standing over my shoulder, pointing at me directly through the screen. I convulsed slightly, startling my wife. She accused me of falling asleep during her favorite part, but I know what I saw.

As we cleaned up the popcorn and our empty chipped mugs, the news blaring about some interesting incident with a woman and a bus, I found myself walking past the spot where the mirror was hung, I took care not to look at its empty space where the clevis joint and other hardware still hung. Instead, I tilted my head to my left as I passed, and in my peripheral vision, I saw myself walk past the modern mirror. As soon as I crossed my own path, my reflection abruptly changed course and charged me. I darted my head to fully grasp the vision, and I comprehended that the running me was coming from the reflection of the old mirror still hanging. As I turned to look at the blank wall, I was struck hard from behind, plowed down like a tackle sacking a lazy quarterback.

The shock of the hit knocked the wind out me, and the two of us toppled to the ground. I rolled onto my back and started to wrestle my attacker. As I reached with searching fingers for a hold, I realized I was fighting my bloodied self. He straddled me, smacking my hands away, and at once grabbed my throat with both hands and squeezed. We locked eyes, and I felt a withering sensation overcome my entirety.

I choked the life out him. It was so easy, he was so scared. He had no idea what was happening, only that I was there, killing him, and he was defenseless. He tried to grab at me, pull my hands away, but he kept slipping off, unable to grasp the slick blood that coated my body. He tried hard, and after three minutes of desperation, he finally went limp. Not dead, but deeply unconscious. I picked him up over my shoulder and carried him into the mirror. I washed the blood off, put on some of his clothes, and stepped out of the mirror into the completely ignorant bliss of his wife and daughter. Later he awoke, as I had once done, and he slammed against the mirror, glaring at me, screaming at me. I simply mouthed to him “Don’t wait for me".

Occasionally, I will see him at the mirror and try to break the mimic he’s forced to repeat. I will bring his wife to the mirror, the modern one as he called it, and show her off to him. Of course, she can’t see that it’s him. She can’t see the ancient mirror still hanging on the other wall. Sometimes, when that girl of his is out of the house, I will make love to his wife in front of him. I do it where he can see it, but doesn’t have to mimic it, since it’s just out measured perception. I can hear his desperate banging on the mirror as he gets furious at me, but she can’t hear it.

He always stays in the room. If only he would stop obsessing over me and what I am doing to his family, he could explore the world out there, on his side of that mirror. His new can’t wife see his craziness as he yells at the mirror, and she can’t talk to him, talk him away. His face has grown shaggy with unkempt hair, his body thinning from starvation. He can’t die in there though, not until he learns how to stalk and mimic another perfectly.

Hopefully, his wife that I have impregnated will birth me a son, one in which I can sell the mirror too. Or maybe I’ll help the daughter find a suitor worthy of imprisonment in the mirror, so her real father can escape and occupy another. Either way, he is throwing his life away on the other side of the mirror, instead of living it the way he could. Unfortunately, he is stuck in the infinity he created, and when his wife, er, my wife, sold the mirror to an avid mirror collector from the Pine Grove Mall, it meant his only easy escape from my trap departed this family. He can only escape to a son-in-law or step-son.

I wonder what evil entity will trap that mirror collector. There are so many that can be trapped inside. I wonder how many will be trapped in that hall of mirrors the collector owns. I wonder how many mirrors he has sold with trapped innocents contained within, desperately trying to steal your soul and escape their imprisonment. After all, when I escaped, it was 1993. I had been trapped eighty years.

A lot of mirrors have been made, bought, sold, and resold in the last two and a half decades. I wonder where he is now. Don’t look too close at your mirrors…

#creepy #horror story #mirrors #author: porschephiliac #alphabet stew series

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mythomagically-delicious · 7 years

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The Real Wax Stanford Pines

Based on a conversation by several people (I can’t remember all of the people who were there, I’m sorry! I’ll tag who I remember).

This is the story of “What if Wax Stan came to life and talked to Stan? What if it acted like Ford instead of Stan? How would Stan react then? What would happen?”

@a-million-chromatic-dreams @archervale @fordanoia I know there were others contributing to this story idea, but this is all I got. Hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 3908 Based on Episode: Headhunters

Wax Figures come to life when either no one is around to see them, or when the humans they are with have figured out their secret.

Usually at this point, cursed wax figures would aim to kill those humans. But not always. Some cursed wax figures don’t realize they are cursed, because they have been melted down and recreated, and they do not have other wax figures to guide them into sentience and human-hating. That instinct to stay still when humans are in the room is still there, but hating humans for forcing them into stillness? That develops over time.

So when Mabel built a new wax figure out of the gooey ashes of Wax Abraham Lincoln, her new creation had only two thoughts. One, stay still. Two, come alive when you can.

Wax Stan observed everything that happened around him after his creation. His human inspiration came into the room and tumbled over backwards at the sight. He wondered over that reaction for a moment before internally shrugging and seeing how this would play out.

Wax Figures (this cursed variety, at least) reflect the person the creator knows them as. For famous figures, such as Sherlock Holmes, many people have the same type of perception of him, and so many can predict his behavior accordingly. But Wax Stan was the reflection of who Mabel Pines saw him as. Wax Stan inherently knew some of what Real Stan did, but only as far as what Mabel would know Real Stan knew.

Wax Stan did not know he had a twin brother.

But Real Stan did.

Stan, once alone with the wax figure, takes him by the shoulder and starts speaking to him. Calls him Stanford, his full name. Stan treats him like a real, separate person. Despite every instinct that was screaming at him to stay still, Wax Stan also knew his inspiration was a bit of a rule breaker, and so he dropped his stillness and spoke back after Real Stan asked if there was anything he could get him.

“I’m alright for the moment, but could I sit down? I’ve been on my feet all day. These shoes need better arch support, yeesh.”

And Stan s c r e a m s.

“Holy Moses, you can talk?!” Stan says, pressing a hand to his heart as he tries to understand what’s going on.

Wax Stan feels like he may have made a mistake, but he presses on. “Yes, Stan. I can talk. Didn’t you already know that? You’ve been talking to me like you knew I was alive for the last hour.”

Stan’s eyes widened. “Why didn’t ya say something sooner?”

Shrugging, Wax Stan replied, “We weren’t alone until a few minutes ago. The others didn’t seem to understand I was alive as well. It is against my nature to come alive unless I’m alone or one already knows my secret.”

“Hot Belgium Waffles, Stanford, you’re alive! Brother!” Stan walks forward, angling for a hug, but Wax Stan stops him before he can with a hand on his inspiration’s upper arm.

“Brother?”

Stan’s expression of hope turns down at that. “You, you said you were alive, that you were Stanford Pines. Don’t ya know who that is?”

Wax Stan snorted and answered. “Of course! I’m Stanford Pines, owner of the Mystery Shack, resident Man of Mystery. I give tours to suckers and grab any buck I can off of them. I’m watching my great-niece and nephew this summer. Our,” he pointed between Stan and himself, “only brother is the twins’ grandfather.”

Stan looked crestfallen. He pulled his arm out of the grip Wax Stan still had him in, looking down and to the side, where Wax Stan thought he saw the glimmer of tears in his eye.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, Stan. What’s wrong? You look like you got hit by a bus. Ha!”

“You’re not…how do you know what you know about who you are?”

Stan is still not looking at him. Wax Stan moves forward and pats his doppelganger’s shoulder, leaving his hand resting there. “I know what my creator knows, Stan. It is part of being a wax figure.”

Stan unexpectedly let out a low laugh at that. “So, everything you know about me, you learned from Mabel?”

“Yeah.”

Stan mumbled something under his breath and laughed again. But the laughter wasn’t happy. It struck Wax Stan as sounding painful, like forcing air out of his lungs instead of freely doing so. Wax Stan remembers laughing like that when the police caught them for counterfeiting last week. It wasn’t an enjoyable sound.

Stan seems to be sizing up Wax Stan in his mind, eyeing him, gearing up to ask something.

“If I wanted to make one change to who you are, reflecting a different person in my design, would you become them, then? Even if it was a small change. Would you become who I intended, then?”

The intensity in Stan’s voice was clear. Wax Stan thought it over before replying.

“Yeah, I think so. That seems to be how this whole business works.”

“Would ya mind if I introduced ya to the real Stanford Pines, then?” Stan had that fragile hope in his eyes again, and Wax Stan found it impossible not to fold.

“Give it your best shot. I’ll go still again for ya.”

“Will it hurt?” Stan blurted out. He looked embarrassed by his question, scratching his neck in that way Wax Stan recognized. Wax Stan smiled and replied, easing his inspiration’s nerves.

“Not at all. Give it your best shot.”

With that, Wax Stan went still.

And then he became no more.

Stan pulled wax from the shoulders, smoothing them down and making them appear not as big. It wasn’t much, just enough to form two fingers. He reshaped the wax he’d taken and painted it the same shade of skin as the rest of the wax man. Carefully attaching the digits to their proper place, smoothing over the connections, making sure everything looked right, Stan stood back and surveyed his work.

I have no idea what my brother really looks like, he thought to himself. Not anymore. Ford, my brother, I’m sorry. Stan talked as he was forming the new figure. Imagining Ford as he last saw him, floating away, pleading, screaming Stanley’s name, asking for help. Telling the new creation how close they’d been as boys. Brothers, twins, inseparable. How sorry he was for what happened. Not knowing where he was now, but still working to bring him home.

“I don’t even know if we still share the same face, brother. But this is the best I can do without raising too much suspicion from the rest of the Shack. Please, come to life, talk to me.”

Stan reflected Ford as he used to know him, the brother who loved him. He reflected Ford as he last saw him, knowing exactly what Stanley had done. He reflected Ford as he hoped to see him again, forgiving and thankful, willing to re-build their relationship together.

And when Stan stepped back, satisfied with his work, he asked tentatively, “Stanford? I—I know you’re there, I mean, alive in there. I,” he cleared his throat as his voice cracked, wincing at the sound. “I just wanted to know if you still wanted to talk to me, if what Wax Stan said worked. You can become unstill to me, I know your secret.”

Stan waited hopefully, watching the statue for any signs of movement.

Wax Ford woke up, trying to evaluate his surroundings before truly coming alive.

He listened to his creator’s plea and wondered over who “Wax Stan” was. A former owner of his own body? He supposed all answers could be given by the man in front of him, who was currently staring at Wax Ford with tentative hope, still speaking.

Tripping all over his words like I used to, as a kid, Wax Ford thought. He couldn’t bear to see his brother like this, so unsure, face pinched with pain, hope dying in his eyes the longer he waited.

So Wax Ford came alive.

“Stanley. I’m here.”

Stan gasped and smiled. “Sweet Moses—Stanford, is it really you?”

Wax Ford smiled back, flexing his fingers and checking himself over. “Of course it is, knucklehead. Who else would it be?”

Stan surged forward and wrapped Ford in a hug that would have squeezed the breath from his body had he any lungs.

“Brother, Stanford—I wasn’t sure it would work. Before this you were just a replica of me an—“

“What, you head is so big you wanted two of yourself running around?” Wax Ford interrupted, stepping back out of the hug but allowing Stan to keep his hands resting on his shoulders. There was something about the contact that was comforting for both of them, he could tell.

“I—Ford, oh god, Ford, you don’t know how long it’s been.”

Wax Ford rubbed Stan’s shoulder gently. “It’s been 30 years, Stan. But it’s okay.”

“No, no it was my fault, how could you forgive that?”

Wax Ford thought over the incident while Stan sobbed in front of him. “Stan, I hurt you first. We were both at fault for the fight in the basement. I said some hurtful things, we were both at the end of our physical and emotional ropes. Doesn’t mean I don’t love you, brother.”

Stan’s eyes filled with hope at those words. “You—you mean it?”

Wax Ford smiled. “Yeah, from both of us. I’m sure Real Ford will forgive you too.”

Stan surged forward to hug Wax Ford again. Wax Ford returned it, shushing Stanley and rubbing gentle circles on his back until Stan regained some composure.

Wax Ford didn’t mind. He really felt all of that old love for his twin. Despite being made of wax, it felt right to repay Stanley in his time of trouble, to comfort him. Stan had always been there for him when he was a kid. It was Wax Ford’s turn to be there for Stan while Real Ford was away.

“Oh, sweet Moses. What time is it?” Stan suddenly asked, glancing around for a clock, wiping his eyes dry with a sleeve.

“About 11 am. Why?”

“I told the kids we’d unveil the newest addition to the Mystery Shack at 2. I gotta get everything printed and distributed around town.”

“Take a deep breath, Stanley,” Wax Ford waited for Stan to comply before continuing. “Okay, good. Now, is there any task you can delegate?”

Stan’s eyebrows scrunched up as he repeated ‘delegate’ under his breath. “Um, yeah. I can have the kids distribute the posters in town. Soos can move the wax figures to the portable stage.”

Wax Ford smiled. “Good. You should get started.”

Stan started to leave but looked back at Wax Ford, conflicted.

Wax Ford smiled reassuringly. “I’ll still be here, Stan. It’s fine—go do your job.”

Stan nodded. “Right.” He’d almost left before turning back with an awkward cough. “Oh, ahem, Ford, I um…I need your fingers.”

“What?”

“The kids can’t know about you. When I’m not around, I gotta make you into Wax Stan again so they don’t get suspicious.”

“Sure, no problem. I’ll go wax form again. See you soon, brother.”

Stan looked broken up as he carefully detached his brother’s fingers and stored them in his pocket. Wax Ford’s last thought before becoming Wax Stan again was ‘hmm, what I wouldn’t have given for that ability when I was a child,’ and something told him Stan knew his brother would think that too as he carefully peeled the wax digits away, sliding them into his inner pocket.

Stan went about his business, setting everything up. Bribing Wendy and Dipper. Tricking the town into looking at how good Mabel did on his twi wax doppelganger.

Wax Stan observed everything from his still form. Stan paraded him around, showing him off to the town, praising his creator’s work. (Mabel beamed from nearby).

He laughed internally as the crowd shuddered at her statement in making him with ‘other fluids.’ He appreciated Stan’s tactics to avoid the angry crowd. Smoke bombs were all the rage, these days.

He also wondered over his wax brethren as they were all moved again. One by one, Soos carefully maneuvered them back to the showroom, except for himself. Stan came back and claimed responsibility for moving him. He was cautiously moved into the TV room as Stan chatted mindlessly at him. Wax Stan didn’t mind. Based on their earlier conversation, it seemed the changes Stan made had worked. He was probably eager to restore the form he preferred.

“Alright, nice and cozy and alone. You feeling okay? Need anything?” Stan asked him.

Wax Stan blinked into motion. “Right as rain, Stan! You want to make your additions now, or talk to yourself some more?”

“Hardy har-har, wise guy. Wax form, please.” Stan tried too hard to sound nonchalant. But his fingers were twitching and he actually said the word please. Wax Stan knew that word was foreign to his vocabulary, so he obliged without any further questions or quips.

Stan delicately reattached the limbs and stood back, expectant, waiting.

Wax Ford came to awareness and felt the room—so to speak—for other presences. Seeing only Stan, he woke up and smiled. “Stanley!”

“Stanford,” Stan’s voice sighed, heavy with relief.

“So, how was your day?”

Stan settled into his chair and told Wax Ford all about it. He let Wax Ford get comfortable too, sitting on the dinosaur skull. Stan rested one hand on his brother’s arm as he spoke, needing the contact, and the wax man said nothing of it.

Stan talked and talked, going on about anything and everything. Wax Ford encouraged him with questions, pulling out laughter from Stan’s stories, the silver-linings in every sad tale. At some point Stan stood, stretching.

“Alright, I gotta take a leak. Don’t you go nowhere—“It sounded like he wanted it to be a joke, but Stan’s voice was edged with fear and expectations telling him not to get too comfortable.

Wax Ford smiled and squeezed his shoulder, standing as well. “I wouldn’t dream of it, Stanley.”

“Ha,” he tried laughing off his vulnerability. “I love this guy!” and walked down the hall to the restroom.

Wax Ford allowed himself to resume his natural pose again, just for a moment, to rest in front of the TV.

He never even saw it coming.

He felt the clean slide of the ax as it shnicked through his neck. He saw his body topple to the floor as he went rolling. Wax Ford’s head was completely detached from his body.

He heard angry muttering and an odd curse and the sound of flushing and suddenly he was being picked up, fingers over his mouth to keep him from speaking. His eyes widened as he recognized the perpetrators of the crime—the other wax figures!

Wax Sherlock Holmes leaned in close and hissed into Wax Ford’s ear, “Wrong Stan. Next time we’ll have truer aim.”

Wax Ford’s eyes widened impossibly further as he was gagged and hidden away, taken by the wax men.

His imprisonment couldn’t leave him deaf to Stan’s tortured scream, the pure terror and loss ringing in Wax Ford’s ears. He felt rather than heard the ‘not again’ in Stan’s voice as he explained to the kids about Wax Stan’s death.

(His brother probably stole the fingers again, just to be safe. Clever. Wax Ford appreciated his brother’s ability to look ahead, even while in crisis.)

He heard the kids take charge on the case.

He heard the next morning as Stan was left alone by Dipper and Mabel, off to investigate. Soos was off that day and Wendy played hooky reliably six times out of ten. Today was one of those six.

Wax Ford worried whether they’d harm Stan as he was alone, but the figures didn’t seem able to come alive in day time as he did. That lessened some of his concern, at least. But he was well and truly stuck.

Wax Ford’s head was immobilized in a vent of the Wax Figure Room. They’d even tied him down, rendering him unable to jump or roll away on his neck. But sounds filtered through the vent systems to his untouched ears, and it broke Wax Ford’s heart.

“Sixer, sixer I can’t believe I let this happen again. I’m the worst brother in the world. I pu-pushed you into a death-trap dangerous portal. I let ya get murd-murdered. Hot Belgium waffles, Stanford. I-I-I’m so,” he broke into deep, shuddering breaths, barely understandable as he continued on, voice catching on some words as he vented out his sorrows. “I’m sorry, brother. I’m so goddamn useless. I can’t save you for five minutes, I can’t save you for thirty years. Some, huh, some brother I t-turned out to be.” At that Wax Ford heard Stanley dissolve into loud, broken sobbing.

Wax Ford wasn’t sure how long his brother cried. At some point it ended, he heard distant water running through the pipes. He heard slamming doors and sniffles, and then silence.

There were sounds of Dipper and Mabel’s return at some point, and a long yell from outside that sounded like Stan, which put Wax Ford on high alert until the grunts and gasps turned into a phone call where he heard Stan tell Soos to set up the wax room for a memorial service.

The rest of the day was a blur of activity sounds as Stan and Soos prepared everything. He heard Stan tell Soos they were waiting on Mabel and Dipper to begin the service proper.

His brother was so close! It frustrated Wax Ford to know he was so close but couldn’t comfort him.

Then just…silence. A few sounds of the shack creaking around him, sometimes Soos muttering to Stan in a low voice. Wax Ford wondered if he’d risked reattaching the fingers for the service.

It was Stan’s second memorial for himself. Wax Ford was endowed with the knowledge Stan wanted for him. Wax Ford recalled the pain that service caused him. Mourning the brother he was imitating, isolated, alone, in pain. Unable to reach out to anyone for comfort. Stan had heard a couple of snide remarks about “Lee had it coming” and his brother couldn’t even get angry at them for saying so…because he believed it too.

Now, Stan was again grieving for his brother, lost to him once more. Lost on his watch, when he should have done more, been better.

Wax Ford imagined all of the negative thoughts that would be running through his brother’s head. As kids, Stan had tried to hide it, but he knew his brother took more to heart than he let on. “Stupid” and “not good enough” and “worthless” chief among them.

The time passed and finally he heard the kids return home, slamming the back door and wondering into the wax figures room.

(Wax Ford was thankful Soos had been there, else Stan might have lost his head, too).

He listened as his brother got choked up talking about “Wax Stan.” His heart breaking yet again when Stan ran out of the room, distressed, unable to go through this a second time. Knowing it may not even be the last service held for his brother in his name.

There was a rustling and the grate before him was opened, Wax Sherlock took him out, untying and ungagging him, with a hissed warning to “stay silent if you want to live, traitor.”

Wax Ford went into still mode, a showman’s smile he’d never quite perfected in life spread across his face. He watched in silent horror as Mabel and Dipper fought off the evil wax figures, unable to move or help from his place on the wall, knowing he could not reveal his existence for anyone’s sake, at this point. (Lest he be melted before seeing Stan again, chief among his worries).

So finally, finally, after all of the hubbub and commotion and near-death experiences, he’s reunited with Stanley. His smile goes real in the first picture Soos takes of the four of them. Stan sends the kids to bed and Soos home. Finally Wax Ford has his chance to speak again.

“Stanley, oh, you have no idea how worried I was for you!”

“How can you even look at me? I put you in danger again!”

“It wasn’t your fault, it was the other wax men. They held a grudge against you, and just axed the ‘wrong man’. But I’m glad you weren’t hurt.”

Wax Ford wished he had his body to comfort Stan with. Just a hand on his shoulder at the least.

Stan gave a low, forced laugh. “Just by looking like me, you were in danger. I—“Stan shook his head and turned away.

“Stanley, what is it?” Ford asked, upset. Stan turned back with tears threatening to spill over again, voice hoarser than normal, breath hitching unevenly.

“I—I can’t do this, Stanford. I can’t keep splitting my worry between the two of ya. I can’t handle mourning you again. If-if-if you’re not my real brother, I just can’t handle all these copies. It’ll split me from trying to bring you ho-home. And my, ugh, my heart…It’s been thirty years—I can’t do it anymore.”

Wax Ford heard how hard Stanley was pleading through his words. His brother didn’t want to say it, but it was obvious. Having a wax facsimile of Ford was tearing him apart. It was pain for Wax Ford to be alive, when he didn’t know if Real Ford was, because of him. Wax Ford smiled softly.

“It’s alright, Stanley. Do what you need to do.”

“You, I…I can’t have you here. Even just talking.”

“I know Stanley, it’s okay. It’s for the best. I don’t blame you.”

Stan’s shoulders were shaking now, trying to hold back his emotion.

“Ford, I’ve gotta do it now, before I lose my nerve.”

Stan picked up the head and carried him over to the fireplace. Wax Ford smiled and said a few last words he needed his brother to hear and take to heart before he was gone.

“I love you, Stanley Pines, my brother.”

Stan smiles through tears running down his face and says back in a soft, gravelly voice, “Stanley Pines is dead,” as Wax Ford melts away in front of him.

Stan’s shoulder aches in sympathy of being burned. He stands back from the fireplace and glances around the destroyed room, eyes coming to rest on the untouched coffin. He burns the rest of the body. As the sun climbs higher in the sky, he buries the empty coffin next to where his first empty coffin lies in the back yard.

It is Stan Pine’s second memorial for himself, mourning the brother he was imitating. Every day he wakes up in his brother’s house, no closer to bringing him home, a part of him dies. Stan Pines has been dying for the last thirty years. Now he had two graves to prove it.

Patting the dirt down, he gave a low laugh, full of old wounds improperly healed.

“One more time, Stan Pines is six feet under, and no one mourned but me.”

Stan turned around and walked back into the Mystery Shack. He had a life to get back to misleading.

138 notes · View notes

inkyleaf · 7 years

Text

TG 132: Determination - PART 2/2 (M2F + RC + AR)

PART 1!!!

A few footsteps were heard before the perpetrator spoke: “Jack, you can come out. It’s me, Kaitlyn.” Jack didn’t believe her ears. She poked half of her head out, convinced that she was going crazy. The real Kaitlyn stood in front of the bed, wearing a black jumpsuit fitted with all kinds of tools and pockets. She had rolled a small luggage behind her, and her hair was tied into a perfect bun. Countless thoughts filled Jack’s mind, but she couldn’t utter a word. Over the next minute, Kaitlyn rolled her luggage to the nightstand and slowly sat down on the bed.

“Jack, will you talk with me?” Kaitlyn asked in a soft, personal tone. Her sad, yet serious expression made her look vulnerable. “…Who are you?” was all Jack could muster, poking more of her head out from the covers. “Jack, I-I’m so sorry…” Kaitlyn sobbed. Tears filled her eyes faster than she could’ve expected. She leaned her body halfway toward the bed, bringing some of the sheets up to cover her face and absorb her tears. “K-Kait, what’s going o-on?” Jack swallowed, trying to keep a steady voice.

“I did it all for him, Jack,” Kaitlyn began moments later. “It was for your son, Cameron.” The girls sat in silence for a minute as Kaitlyn calmed herself. “I will tell you everything from the beginning, Jack. Please listen to what I have to say,” Kaitlyn said. Intense emotions bubbled in Jack’s mind, but she remained silent. “I am a Japanese spy. I was deployed to America two years ago disguised as a college student. I-I knew nothing…” Kaitlyn bit her bottom lip, “I knew nothing of America at the time. I was even xenophobic. But one day, your son Cameron approached me. He offered to show me around town – apparently he was smitten with me months before, but was too afraid to approach. I accepted, viewing it as a chance to gather more intel from who I perceived as a dumb American.”

Tears came back to Kaitlyn’s eyes as she continued: “B-but, he was so nice. So sensitive to how I felt. Even showed interest in my culture. His eyes were big and genuine… I brushed it off at first, but we spent more time together as weeks passed. Before I realized what I was doing, he asked me to be his girlfriend, and I couldn’t say no. He singlehandedly changed my opinion on this entire country, Jack, and continues to do so. I love him with all of my heart, and I know he feels the same. I couldn’t be more thankful for that.”

Another minute of silence passed. Kaitlyn took deep breaths before continuing: “But, my time in America is almost up. I must return to Japan in 48 hours. I was born into my job, Jack. I grew up as a robot, training for this singular purpose. I cannot quit being a spy – I would be tortured if I even attempted. If given the choice, I would choose to stay here with Cameron. Unfortunately, I don’t have a choice,” Kaitlyn ended with a loud sob. Jack swallowed hard before speaking up: “So, what happened to me?” Kaitlyn turned to look Jack in the eye. “The drink I gave you last night, it was a serum developed by my country. It was made for torture, designed to mutate those who drank it. I spent months editing the formula. I eased the pain as much as I could, but the ultimate goal was to turn you…into me,” Kaitlyn said with a sad smile.

Jack didn’t know what to say. Her questions were endless, but organizing them into sentences was impossible. “Oh, and I lied about giving the rest of your family the drink, so don’t worry,” Kaitlyn said. “Don’t worry?!” Jack suddenly snapped, sitting up with her bare chest revealed. “Kaitlyn, I’m not you! I can’t be you! I’m a husband, a father, and a goddamn engineer! You can’t do this to me!” Jack yelled, no longer able to control her emotions.

“Jack,” Kaitlyn began in a soothing tone, “this project was months in the making. Everything has been accounted for. I went to your family today, and we discussed that I would be moving in. I told them my ‘parents’ were forcing me to be more independent. You will still live in the same house, Jack. And you getting off of work early yesterday was my doing as well… I wanted make sure you enjoyed yourself as much as possible. I’m sorry.”

“Bu-but… Why? WHY?!” Jack screamed, grabbing Kaitlyn’s shoulders, now more sad than angry. “WHY DID YOU RUIN MY LIFE?!” “Because…isn’t it obvious…?!” Kaitlyn trembled with tears on her cheeks. “Because I love your son and I couldn’t break his heart!” she yelled back with equal passion. Kaitlyn buried her head into Jack’s shoulder, crying more than her doppelganger. The women wept on each other for nearly 20 minutes. Jack’s fury only came out as helpless confusion when she managed to speak after their tears had waned. “I can’t just be you,” she said, pulling away from Kaitlyn. Kaitlyn wiped a tear from her eye before speaking: “You can. Remember when I said everything was accounted for?” Kaitlyn hopped off of the bed and opened her luggage, revealing a full wardrobe of female clothes and accessories. Before Jack could react, Kaitlyn laid out her wallet, phone, and keys on the bed. “I’m going to teach you how to be a woman, Jack.”

“…No. Absolutely not,” Jack said, looking through the frilly underwear and dresses. “Okay, you don’t have to start with skirts,” Kaitlyn said, putting the more girly clothing at the bottom, “but you need to know how to hook a bra. Stand up.” “You’re insane, you know that?” Jack said as she stood. “You think I can’t convince my family that I’m me?” she continued. Kaitlyn responded as she cupped Jack’s breasts in the bra from behind: “Jack, you’re very smart. I know you possess that ability. But think about what would happen. Please, think hard. Also, here you go.” Kaitlyn put the bra’s hooks in Jack’s hands.

If Cameron knew it was me, Jack thought, hardly fiddling with the bra, he would demand answers. Even if I told him about the real Kaitlyn, he’d only be depressed, and my appearance would be a constant reminder… Nobody would win. Nora couldn’t love me either. She may still enjoy my presence, but our romance would die. What if she finds another man, Jack swallowed hard. She wouldn’t find another man if she knew I was in this body. I’d only hold her back…

“Please, change me back,” Jack whimpered. She let the bra fall to the floor with no progress made. "Kaitlyn, please. I can’t do this.” Waterworks returned to Jack’s eyes. “I can’t do that, Jack. The resources don’t exist. Kaitlyn approached Jack for a hug, but Jack pushed her back. “Fuck you! Get out of here, I never want to see you again!” she shouted. Kaitlyn kept a calm demeanor, realizing that her presence would only hinder Jack for the rest of the night. “Okay Jack, I will leave. Good night,” she said, walking out of the room.

This nightmare has to end soon, it has to, Jack thought, trying to find comfort in denial. She concurrently racked her brain for a solution to living with her family with her identity known, but nothing favorable existed. I’m going to wake up tomorrow, and all of this will have just been a bad dream, she thought before falling asleep.

Jack woke up at dawn again and rolled over to check her phone. A lock screen showing a happy picture of Cameron and Kaitlyn popped up before the phone was unlocked with her fingerprint. This is Kait’s phone… Jack sat up, dismayed by the sight of the hotel room. The bra from last night was still on the floor next to an open luggage of clothing, but the phone, along with Kaitlyn’s wallet and keys, were placed on the nightstand. No way. Upon further investigation, Jack realized that her own phone and wallet were gone, as the cash from her wallet was placed on top of Kaitlyn’s.

After such a debilitating night, Jack didn’t feel angry, sad, or even surprised. “This is it, huh?” she said as she turned to look at herself in the mirror. “What a fucking joke.” She bit her bottom lip, giving her breasts another upset squeeze before going back to sit on the bed. Jack dug through Kaitlyn’s phone for almost two hours, reading her past conversations, scrolling through her Facebook feed, and looking at the photos in her camera.

“She’s good. No one could’ve suspected she was anything other than a fun college girl.” As the sun rose higher and higher, Jack knew she had to bite the bullet and get dressed. “Damn it all, damn it all,” she muttered to herself, struggling to properly hook the bra around her back. “Get in there, c’mo-argh! Jesus!” Her breasts were pinched and prodded as she tried to securely fit them in the cups, unable to know what felt right or wrong. Jack shivered as she slid panties up her smooth legs, admittedly feeling much better in them compared to her boxers. After throwing on the blandest long-sleeved shirt, and, to her annoyance, skinny jeans, she felt a small sense of accomplishment.

Rap rap. The knocks on the door startled Jack. “It’s me, Jack,” Kaitlyn said from the other side, feeling it was best to not let herself in this time. Jack opened the door and stared at Kaitlyn as she walked in. “Well, what do you want?” Jack asked, sitting on the bed. “I came to say goodbye, for good this time. Before I leave, would you like me to help you with anything? The man ‘Jack’ has already been checked out of this room, so feel free to leave whenever.” “What’d you do with my phone and wallet? Did Nora call me?” Jack asked, desperate to hear any potential last words she could’ve said to the man she used to be. Kaitlyn shook her head. “I do not know, but the phone and wallet were terminated. Jack is dead, you are Kaitlyn now,” she said as monotone as possible, hoping that Jack wouldn’t fly into another tear-filled rage. “So I am. So I fucking am,” Jack said, pausing before continuing: “So you’re just gonna tell my family that I’m dead and expect me to console them? You’re a fucking monster.”

Kaitlyn turned her head, unable to deny Jack’s words. “Yes,” she whispered, trying not to cry again. She had originally wanted to teach Jack how to use makeup, and perhaps convince her that decreasing her age by a few decades wasn’t so bad, but now she knew it’d be impossible. Jack didn’t have to be yelling to show Kaitlyn that she loathed her. We really don’t get happy endings, do we? Kaitlyn thought before saying, “I’m sorry, Jack, for what it’s worth. I’m so sorry… Goodbye.” Kaitlyn briskly walked out the door, never to be heard from again.

Jack lay on her bed, taking deep breaths and wishing that time would stop moving so fast. She grabbed a bagel on her way out of the motel around 9 AM and immediately noticed that her car had been replaced with Kaitlyn’s. Of course. Jack threw the luggage Kaitlyn had given her into the trunk and drove back to her house despite being terrified of facing her family under her new skin.

“Welcome ‘home’ babe!” Cameron happily greeted Jack as she got out of the car. Jack was taken aback by the sight of being shorter than her son as Cameron squeezed her with a hug. “H-hey, Cameron,” she simply replied. Her tone and lack of makeup was quick to catch Cameron’s attention. “Something wrong?” he asked as they walked into the house. You have no idea. “…No, no, just a little tired. I’m going to miss my, uhh, parents,” Jack replied, then continued, “Where’s your mo-I mean where’s Nora?” “Early shopping, she wanted to buy some things for you since you’re moving in!” Cameron said with a grin.

Jack spent most of the morning studying Kaitlyn’s work and college schedule in Cameron’s room since tomorrow was Monday, while Cameron played video games in the living room. “God, she’s busy for a college student,” she commented. “Five finance classes four days of the week with a part-time job overlapping a few of those, sheesh. Almost wish Cameron was this busy.”

A car pulled into the driveway hours later. Oh God, Jack thought, is Nora OK? How has she been holding up? Jack ran downstairs to greet her, dying to see and comfort her wife more than anything. “Kaity! You’re already here!” Nora squealed in excitement, then continued, “I don’t know how much you brought from your house, but I picked up a lot of new clothes and makeup to make sure you feel right at home, okay sweetheart? Aaah this is so exciting!” Jack didn’t expect Nora to be so cheerful, and couldn’t help but smile at her welcoming. Maybe she hasn’t heard the news, Jack thought, quickly trying to erase the concept from her head.

After Nora unpacked and organized her purchases, she jumped at the first opportunity she had to bond with her presumed to-be daughter-in-law. “Kaitlyn, sweetie, I know how self-sufficient you are with your style, but I would just looooove to be able to do your makeup today since I’ve hardly ever seen you with a clean slate before!” Jack was thrown off-guard. The mental dam she had built to block out her femininity was crumbling, but she couldn’t refuse. “Sure,” she replied, bracing herself for further emasculation.

“Open… Close… Liiittle wider,” Nora repeated simple commands out loud as she dolled up Jack’s face. “Aaand, voilà!” she exclaimed 20 minutes later. “I kept it simple, Kaity. What do you think?” Jack pursed her lips to spread the faint pink lipstick, getting a clear look at her face for the first time in 24 hours. “W-wow,” she breathed, knowing she’d have to give an over-the-top reaction to make Nora happy.

“I absolutely love it, Nora! Thank you so much!” Jack cheered, giving Nora a hug, surprised at how convincing she sounded with Kaitlyn’s voice. “Hahaha aww, sweetheart, I’m so glad,” Nora chuckled, then continued, “We’re going to be eating out tonight to celebrate your moving in – at your favorite sushi place!” Jack wasn’t sure how enthusiastically she should’ve reacted, so she simply said, “Wow, I can’t wait!”

As the day went on, Jack took the hints to change into nicer clothes before going out to dinner. She kept the jeans on, but traded the white top for a frilly short-sleeved T-shirt, even though the sight of Kaitlyn’s bare skin was still unsettling. The family prepared for a traditional Asian dinner, where everyone would happily take food from any plate laid on the table. Jack was hesitant to dig in, never having been a fan of seafood.

“Don’t hold back babe, this night is for you,” Cameron said, handing Jack a pair of chopsticks. Here we go again, Jack thought, slowly bringing a sushi roll to her face. Her eyes widened as it squished between her tongue and the roof of her mouth – Kaitlyn’s taste buds adored the food, sending overwhelmingly positive energy to Jack’s brain. Oh my God, so good! “Aah it’s so good!” she blurted, scarfing down the food faster than the original Kaitlyn. “Whoa, save some for us,” Cameron joked. The family ate and chatted the night away, and Jack felt happiness for the first time in Kaitlyn’s body.

“Ooooh my goodness, I’m stuffed!” Jack exclaimed, falling onto Cameron’s bed shortly after coming home. “Me too, me too,” Cameron replied. “Too bad we got school tomorrow.” Cameron began to undress, bringing Jack’s mind back to reality. Before she could react, Cameron crawled over her. “I’d love to rip that cute li’l shirt off,” he said in a low, husky voice. Jack’s heart began racing – she was nowhere near prepared for this. “I…I…” Jack’s voice cracked as she tried to speak up, “I-I really need to sleep, Monday’s are so busy…” she finished, sliding out from under Cameron to look for her pajamas.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, no way in hell, Jack was practically panting in her thoughts. I have to change clothes in front of him, don’t I? Damn it all. The anxiety of her situation hit her almost as hard as it did in the motel. Cameron was noticeably grumpy, making Jack feel even worse. She remembered to wash her makeup off at the last second before turning in for the night, wondering if she could ever get used to being a girl.

Jack drowned herself in her new workload over the week, pleasantly surprised by how refreshing the feeling of work felt. She did her best to embrace womanhood in small steps, and began to wear girlier clothing on Tuesday, followed by applying her own makeup on Wednesday. By the end of the week, Jack almost thought she’d regained control of her life.

Tragedy struck when she came home Friday evening. Cameron and Nora were huddled on the couch, crying their eyes out. The sight alone was enough to make Jack’s eyes water. She silently approached them, joining their embrace on the couch.

“He’s gone,” Nora eked out with a loud sniffle. “Jack’s gone. The search team pronounced him dead.” The words hit Jack like a truck – she buried her head into Nora’s shoulder, unable to stop her tears. I’m right here, Nora! I’m right here! was what she was dying to say. I never left you guys! The family sobbed together for what felt like hours before Nora spoke up again. She stroked Jack’s hair, saying “The funeral will be next week, sweetheart. I wish you got to know him more, he was such a loving husband and father…”

I’m here for both of you. I’ll always be here for you guys. The same thoughts cycled through Jack’s mind throughout the silent night. Her resolve strengthened overnight, and the purpose of her life became clear. She was put on this earth for Nora and Cameron. Her sex didn’t matter, her age didn’t matter, and her appearance didn’t matter. Her family meant everything, and she was going to be with them until the end.

“Cameron,” Jack began later that night once they were in bed together, “I know I don’t say this enough, but I love you and I’m very proud of you.” She wanted that to be her final fatherly line, knowing that she couldn’t keep viewing him as her son if she wanted to make either of them happy. “Thanks babe, love you too,” Cameron chuckled, kissing Jack’s lips.

Jack woke up early that Saturday morning and gave Nora a hug from behind. “Nora,” she began in the same tone as last night, wanting to speak to her as a wife one last time, “I can’t begin to thank you for how much you’ve done for me. I’ll never forget any of it. I love you so much, and I will do everything I can to support our little family.” “Oooh, Kaitlyn, sweetheart…” Nora began, touched by her words. The women’s eyes watered as Nora turned to hug Jack properly.

Jack continued to break down her mental barriers throughout the slow day, trying her best to think of herself as Kaitlyn. “I’m not Jack, not anymore,” she whispered to herself in the mirror, forcing a smile. “I’m Kaitlyn. I don’t need to be a man to keep my family happy… I need to be a girlfriend and a daughter. That is what I am. I am...Kaitlyn.” She ran her fingers down and around her body, accepting all of the feminine features she had been trying her best to reject over the past week.

Later that night, Kaitlyn opened her legs for Cameron, knowing he needed the relief. Her body trembled as Cameron crawled on top, kissing and pinching her from head to toe before teasing her clit. You’re a good son, Cameron. You deserve this… Kaitlyn instinctively thought as she groaned from the foreign pleasure. He’s not my son anymore. Not my son, I’m a woman. Make me a woman, Cameron…!

Kaitlyn screamed at the first hint of penetration. Cameron’s strong arms pinned her shoulders to the bed. One of her hands cupped a breast while the other stimulated her clit as Cameron rocked back and forth, slowly getting deeper. The schlicking, pounding, moaning, and squeaking of the bed became louder and louder, muffling her scattered thoughts. It felt like hours before Cameron pulled out and erupted all over her face, forcing her eyes shut. She howled as she finished her own climax minutes later as Cameron cleaned up, unable to feel or move her legs. Her mind plunged deeper into femininity, giving Kaitlyn another accomplishment from the experience.

So this is how it feels… Kaitlyn smacked her lips, awkwardly trying to clean her face without swallowing any cum. Cameron helped before cuddling up next to her, ready to fall asleep. Kaitlyn fell asleep in his arms, silently appreciating his strong, warm security.

Days flew by for Kaitlyn, as she was absorbed in her work and bettering herself for her family, always making progress toward becoming the person she had to be. Before long, she was getting mani-pedis with Nora and snuggling up with Cameron for movies. Many tears were shed at the funeral, but Kaitlyn stayed strong and uplifted her family as much as she could.

As weeks passed, excitement grew for Kaitlyn’s college graduation. Cameron and Nora suggested all sorts of parties and vacations they could go on, but Kaitlyn shook her head. “As long as I’m with you guys, I don’t want anything big or special,” she said during the weekend they planned to celebrate. She got her wish – the family prepared a simple picnic that Saturday and headed out to the wilderness on Sunday to enjoy it.

Excited as ever, Kaitlyn made herself extra attractive for the occasion. She wore a tight, low-cut, zebra-patterned tube top and a short dark skirt, loving the feeling of the sun on her skin. “You look so beautiful, babe,” Cameron commented as they walked, holding hands. Nora walked far behind them, enjoying nature. “Just for you, handsome,” Kaitlyn said with a cheesy wink. The couple exchanged a kiss and gazed into each other’s eyes. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, hon,” Kaitlyn breathed, enjoying Cameron’s embrace.

At the end of the picnic, Nora pulled saran-wrapped Teriyaki-glazed meatballs and small vegetables skewers out of the basket. Everyone understood the message, and enjoyed them with extra appreciation. Kaitlyn volunteered to clean up while Cameron and Nora took a lap on the trail to play Pokémon GO, giving her some alone time to reflect on herself. The tiring weeks were successful in fading her memories as the man, Jack, but the final meal brought many of them back to light.

The more Kaitlyn thought about her previous life, the more she realized how successful she was in her goal. She didn’t see Nora as a romantic partner, and loved her solely as a family member and motherly figure. On the other hand, her romance grew for Cameron with every passing day. The notion of Cameron being her son felt preposterous, and she wanted nothing more than to grow old with him.

Kaitlyn thought back to the first days of her transformation, remembering how much she hated seeing any trace of her body. And now she loved it. Like any girl, she adored looking good and feeling a fresh breeze blow between two slender legs. Touch my legs! Kaitlyn giggled at a thought from last week when she commanded Cameron to feel her just-shaven legs. You’ve done it, Jack. You’ve really done it, she thought. You’ve become a young woman through and through.

“Hey Kait!” Kaitlyn heard Cameron call as he sprinted up to her. “You okay?” he asked, noticing that she had hardly put anything away from their picnic. “Oh, haha yeah. Sorry, I spaced out for a bit,” she responded. “Now what could a brainiac like you be spacing out about?” Cameron asked in a lower voice. “Well, I can think of someone,” Kaitlyn replied in a similar tone. She wrapped her arms around Cameron’s head and back as they made out, loving everything that her new life had to offer.

That’s a wrap~ There are very few stories I’ve worked on as long as this one, so I hope you enjoyed. Thank you for reading. Thank you so, so much. :)

Patreon || DeviantArt

RC = race change, AR = age regression

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metasandmagic · 7 years

Text

Time to go Home

Summary: Laurel Lance came back after her sister Sara saved her but than she was kidnapped bu her Earth 2 doppelganger Black Siren and Prometheus. Laurel manages to escape and make her way back home.

Characters: Laurel Lance, Evelyn Sharp

Notes: I’ve only seen the episodes Laurel is in so I don’t know the character of Evelyn very well.

AO3

Laurel had raised Sara from the dead and Sara had disrupted the time stream to save her. They had both crossed forbidden lines to save the only person in the world who could understand them. Of course she couldn’t just drop her back in Star City, not without changing the timelines in ways that neither one would be able to forgive themselves for letting happen. Nine months after her death and she was standing in the lair looking over the costumes waiting for the man she loved to come down.

It was a joyous reunion, a party to celebrate her return and that was the last thing she remembered. The next thing Laurel knew she was waking up in a cell with a bad headache. A girl delivered her food but wouldn’t even meet her eyes that first night. The second night was a little different. “You were my hero. When Darhk killed my parents and you I just wanted to avenge them. I stole your costume and went to get justice by killing him.”

She could feel her heart break listening to the girl. Hadn’t she put on Sara’s mask as much to avenge her sister as she had to honor her legacy. ”My sister was the original canary. When she died all I wanted was justice or maybe it was vengeance. I’m not even sure I cared who paid for it at first.“ Laurel closed her eyes remembering the fact that she had nearly taken an innocents man life, the clicks of the gun before she realized it was empty echoing in her ears. “How did you go from wanting justice to locking me up?” She watched the younger girl carefully, hoping to get some insight into what made her change.

“Oliver is a hypocrite. He killed and yet I’m wrong because I believed Darhk should die. He killed him. Prometheus understood, he knows all of this is because of what Oliver started. And he has a plan but you can’t be there.” And Oliver Queen needed to pay for everything he brought to Star City and all the people who died in it’s wake. “Do you hate me?”

The girls voice was young, but she barely looked out of her teens if she was that old. “Of course I don’t hate you. But what you’re doing is wrong. I can’t say everything Oliver has done is good, but he’s tried. What’s your name? You can call me Laurel.” If there was any hope of getting out of here it rested in this girl’s hands.

“Eve, Evelyn. I didn’t want to hurt you. I just wanted justice.” She was a strong girl and Laurel wanted to help her. Laurel was going to do everything in her power to help her but she needed to make sure the girl wanted to be helped first.

“You still can. You can be a hero Evelyn. You’re a good person and I believe in you. But first you have to let me out of here and than we can stop Prometheus before anymore innocent people get hurt.” Her voice was calm and she could see the indecision dancing in Eve’s eyes. Her heart fell when she saw the shake of her head.

Keys jangled in her hand. “I can’t go with you, but I can let you out. It’s to late to stop them now anyways.” It seemed to take forever for her to find the right key and open the door but Laurel was out of the cell the moment it opened. She stopped in front of Evelyn and gave her a hug, before she felt keys being pressed into her palm. “There’s a car outside, but it’s already to late.”

Laurel stepped back and smiled at her. “Thank you and we will talk later. I promise.” She took off down the hall and toward the car.

Evelyn was right, she could hear on the radio about a woman going by Black Siren creating destruction in Star City. The fact that they said she looked exactly like her, led her to believe that it was Prometheus’ plan come to fruition. She spotted the bar and walked inside figuring she could at least stop for a drink and something quick to eat. Laurel didn’t even hear the question, just the reply. “I want a piece of that.”

A roll of her eyes and she made her way to the bar. She was upset already and these guys were not going to help. “That’s sad and not going to happen. I’m not some defenseless woman you can just pick up in a bar.” They made their way closer to her and she wanted to punch them the moment she felt their hands on her.

“What are you going to do about it?”

Her eyes narrowed at the question and Laurel didn’t even think. “This.” A scream erupted from her lips and the two men were thrown through the window. She had no idea how she had done it but Laurel couldn’t help but think it felt good.

#laurel lance #arrow #fanfic #mine #evelyn sharp #spoilers

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kxa11 · 7 years

Text

session 2.02: “inner world blues”

“You’re here in a rush-”

“Honestly, I don’t care. Can we start? Let’s just do this now.”

“...Good afternoon to you, too.”

“Where’s the old man?”

“He’s not here today. We’ve chatted before, though, so…”

“That’s fine. Whatever. You know how to run this thing?”

“Run it? Come on. I was there from day zero when the idea came up. Of course I do.”

“Put me in it, then.”

“No please? No thank you?”

“...”

“Okay. Alright. You’ll have to be careful this time. Whoever you saw last time - it might not be the same you see this time.”

“But it’s me, isn’t it? How could it be someone different?”

“I guess we’re about to see, aren’t we?”

There’s no wind this time. No skyscraper, either. I’m in the tundra, it seems. The lack of wind doesn’t hide the chill, though. I should start bringing a suitcase full of clothing into this, I muse. It’s better than the alternative of freezing.

“Hey,” I call out. “Hey you. Or me. Whatever. Let’s talk.”

Silence. This isn’t what I expected.

I try again.

“Hey!” I shout.

The ground underneath me explodes and a hand reaches from beneath. I yell and jump back, but it’s got a grip on one of my legs. I kick out, which is a good thing, because that makes the hand let go and I start scrambling backwards.

The hand-that’s-actually-attached-to-a-body comes out of the ground fully, body included, and I get a good look the individual. They’re dressed for the weather: parka, jeans, boots, and gloves complete the package. I can see goggles on the face, probably for preventing wind damage. Right now, that’s overkill, but I can respect it.

“We need to talk,” I say again. They look at me. No movement. The winter person in front of me is startling still now, a change from the incredible movement that just occurred.

“Look,” I say, and I take a step forward. That’s all it takes: the individual lunges at me again, knocking me to the ground.

I can’t move. For some reason, they’re able to keep me immobile as the punches start raining down, and I can’t even scream out. It’s like sleep paralysis as a kid all over again, except this time there actually is someone with me and it’s not in the confines of my room anymore. It’s all in my head - so to speak.

I am being hit over and over again. Face, chest, arms, torso, it doesn’t matter - so many hits are coming through and I can imagine bruises forming. One punch to the nose: blood sprays out, and the spatter hits them in the googles. A wild grin appears, and I flinch. I know that grin.

I’ve seen it before.

I’m really struggling now. I want to move, I want him off. The weight is crushing me and the blows are coming faster and faster, and if I don’t stop it, I will literally die in myself, and I don’t know how that translates to the real world.

Honestly, I’m not in the mood to find out.

They reach down and in a spectacularly horrific fashion, bite down on my shoulder. I literally scream now, and for a moment we lock eyes. I see a flash of something in the eyes - fear? Amusement? Bloodlust? But it doesn’t matter. I screamed. I can move my mouth. I feel my toes, wiggle my fingers.

Good.

I steady myself through the pain and spit blood into the googles. They recoil backwards and in a flash I sit up and throw myself onto them. Now it’s my turn to get a hit or two in. I know I don’t have long before I pass out, so I focus on extremities: soft parts, unprotected parts, it’s all fair game. The parka is in the way and takes a lot of the sting out of the hits, but I’m landing them. Two hits, three hits - they do the job of one punch at full strength. With what energy I can muster, I drag them up to their feet and start using my legs, too. I’m kneeing and kicking for all I’ve got, but it’s not enough. I can see dark spots dancing in my vision, and it doesn’t take a cosmic warning to realize that I need to wrap up and find myself, the actual self from last time, before things go south.

The end comes pretty quickly between us. They manage to pull their head back and actually headbutt me. I stumble backwards and fall on my behind again.

Smooth, I think, but they’re already on me.

With one fantastic punch, they send me sprawling on my back, and I start to look up for the hurricane from last time. No eye in the sky, no storm, nothing. Just cold ice blue skies as far as I can make out.

Suddenly, I’m mad. I didn’t come here to wrestle a fur laden individual. I had questions. I wanted to talk. I needed answers, clarity, a perspective switch. I can feel a switch go off in me, and for the second time, I rear up and rip the goggles off their face, reversing positions. Now they’re down, and I’m up. It’s my turn to land a hit.

A fist grabs mine. I look up and see me - the actual self from last time. He’s got a look of indignation on his face, but he’s not looking at me. He’s looking down at the snow-invader. I follow his gaze.

It’s me.

For the second time that day, I blissfully pass out.

“Fuck,” I hear.

I come to slowly. I was right; there’s definitely bruising. I sit up gingerly, and I can feel my head pounding as it happens.

“Lie back down,” he says. “You’re badly injured. This isn’t like the place we were last time, and the rules are a bit different. You’re going to feel everything when you go back, too. I gave you basic first aid, and cleaned out the cuts, but I don’t know if there’s any internal bleeding. Bruising is a definite, though.”

I listen and put my head back down on the makeshift pillow. From the scan I was able to do without turning my head, it looks like a cave. I can’t place the location. There’s still tundra and sky outside, so I don’t know how much time has passed.

“Three hours,” he says. He looks at me as I raise an eyebrow. “I mean, I heard you think it. Or I thought you think it. The nuances are as lost on me as they are on you, so don’t overthink it.” He pauses a minute. “Of course, telling you that is a hopeless thing - you’re about to overthink it. I’m not stupid.”

“Where’s the other one?” I’m surprised by how hollow my voice sounds. He gestures with his head towards the back of the cave. Tied up is my other doppelganger. He’s knocked out too, sans parka and goggles though, and I take a closer look at his features. He is a perfect replica of me - all the features are there.

But at the same time, there’s something so distinctly other about him.

“It’s unsettling, isn’t it?” Says the one that’s not tied up.

“Hold on, this is getting tricky,” I say. “I’m me. I know that. You’re you, and that’s fine. But now there’s another one? We’re going to need names.”

He shrugs. “Name us, then.”

I pause a moment. I didn’t expect that to go down so well. I suppose when you’re only arguing with yourself, you can resolve things pretty quickly - in theory, anyway.

“I don’t know what to name you,” I say. “I feel like regular names don’t do you justice - am I right in that?”

“You’re not wrong,” he laughs. “You could just do what the old man does and refer to us by our aspects.”

“Aspects?”

“Aspects. We are you, you are we. You’re the whole comprised of all of us, but we bring different elements to it. I’m the calm and detached part of you, the part that holds it all together and keeps the others in check.”

“And the one over there?”

“I think you know,” he says, eyeing his counterpart.

“Anger?”

“Rage is maybe the best modern translation for it, but yeah. Rationality and Anger. Two of your aspects.”

“So there’s more, then?” I say.

He furrows his brow.

“I shouldn’t say. If you’re to meet others, you’ll do that in your own time. But that’s beside the point - why in the world would you meet Anger today? For your second session?”

“I - I was thinking I’d see you! I didn’t even know it was possible to meet others!”

“What’s going on in your life? Your real life, the one outside here?”

“How do you mean? I reply.

“There must be something underlying, something you carried subconsciously into this world. That’s what changed the destination from my world to this one. Fuck. I can’t figure it out.”

He looks at me sharply then.

“What’s going on, kid? What’s going on?”

“Nothing!”

“Don’t make me go into our head and figure it out,” he says.

“That’s invading my privacy.”

“No it’s not,” he smirks. “It’s my privacy too. It’s just locked from me, at the moment.” He looks at Anger, then back to me. “Is it...no, that’s not it. It’s not that either. Hmm….”

“Stop!” I sit up and immediately burst into tears as the wounds in my chest open up and blood begins streaming.

“Idiot,” he sighs. “Lie back down.”

I do as I’m told.

“So,” he says, “how long have you been at odds with your folks?”

“You figured it out,” I say flatly.

“It was a matter of time, really,” he says.

“Don’t be so chipper about it,” I retort. “I’m over it.”

“Clearly not. You came into a dream world and took it out on yourself, literally. Something tells me there’s a bit of baggage there.”

“Okay, but he’s not me! There’s something off about him!”

“It only took you this long to figure that out. What’s different?”

“He looks...sharper? More pointier? I can’t describe it, but he’s missing things that I’ve got.”

“Yeah, that’s one way of putting it.” The Rational part of me stands up and starts pacing.

“All of us, we’re you and then some. Almost you to a fault, if that makes sense. Me, I don’t have to be anything in particular, so this is how I am. I’m you through and through, the you that’s sort of been the most prominent version of you in your life.

“The one over there though? He’s your hostility, rage, all that stuff. It’s bundled up into him, and you can actually see it manifest in his appearance. Skin pulled sharply over the bones, the hollow sunken eyes, the grin you do when you’re playing sports and absolutely dominating, it’s all there. Your nastiest, most vile traits, all wrapped up in one.

“You’d never think to headbutt someone, yet he did. Or better yet - you’d think it, but you’d never do it. You’d never hit someone while they were down, but he kept going. You think you’d never be that vicious in a fight, that callous, that cruel, but he was. You’re lucky he didn’t talk - the stuff you say in the real world, as hostile and malicious as it can be...it would have been angelic compared to what he would have thrown at you.”

“Got it,” I say softly.

“Nah, not yet.” He stands up and stretches. “You don’t understand yet.”

“Will I ever?”

“Honestly…” he sighs. “Forget it. That’s too much for one day. I’m going to send you back. I’ll need his help, though. This is his world. He calls the shots. Are you okay with that?”

“I’m fine. Do what you need to.”

The Rational part of me nods and walks over to the Angry part of me and, in a beautifully fluid motion, yanks him to his feet and slaps him across the face.

Hard.

The Angry part of me snaps awake.

“It’s like he’s literally aroused by pain,” groans the Rational part of me. “Hey, you. Let’s send him back. He’s not ready for you. Not today.”

“He’ll never be ready. He’s weak. He’s a waste, a failure. He’s the result of too many sacrifices.”

“Ignore him,” begins the Rational part of me, but he stops when he looks my way and sees the tears streaming down my face. “What’s wrong?”

“You don’t know that voice?” I reply through sniffles.

“Whose voice are you hearing?”

“Oh, he knows,” sneers the Angry part. “It’s always the same voice. He hears it when he sleeps. It’s the voice he hears in school, at work, when he comes from trips. He knows exactly what it -”

The slap echoes across the cave’s interior. The Rational part of me’s hand is still in the air, and the Angry part of me has the imprint of the ring on his cheek. No one speaks for a moment.

“Send. Him. Back.”

“Alright,” says Anger. “Let’s do this.”

And for the last time that day, I find myself drifting away.

“He’s gone.”

“Aspects was laying it on a little thick, don’t you think?”

“You were awake to hear that?”

“Please. I could have broken those ties instantly. You thought you actually knocked me out?”

“I had to sell it to him.”

“Whatever.”

“I’m still not sure why the old man let him come here. Actually, I don’t think the old man was the one running things today. The younger one, his kid...I think that was the brains today. But he wanted him to come here? To meet you?”

“Everyone’s gotta confront with their anger at some point.”

“Before it consumes them.”

“I wouldn’t be opposed to that.”

“Let’s get something clear, right now. I’m in charge. I have been, always. You have been a flirtation for years, but he’s never completely given in to you.”

“Permanently, anyway.”

“He won’t do it. I won’t let him.”

“You’ve got no say on the way he lives his life or what he does.”

“I want the best for him.”

“I don’t care. He’ll choose me. They always do. Before this summer’s out, before these sessions are done, he’ll switch up. I’ll make sure of it.”

“We’ll see. I’m going back to mine. Stay here. Don’t interfere.”

“Until next time, partner.”

“We’re not partners.”

“Sure thing...partner.”

#therapy

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