[SIDESTORY] Morbit Oneshots

[skinstealer]

here's where we put all the misc one-off stuff! any team member can contribute to this thread, comments are allowed, and stories will be added to a table of contents here. requests from this thread will also be put here!
 

TABLE OF CONTENTS

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Respite- 2018

Ringor Mortis, Punch Clock Animal/General Morbit

No content warnings

Wax and Wane spend some time together.

 

Frostbite- 2018

Ringor Mortis, General Morbit

CW: Depictions of psychosis/chronic illness

Dysthanasia goes out to get meds.

 

Uncle Grind- 2018

Ringor Mortis, Punch Clock Animal/General Morbit

No content warnings

Alloy comes over for a visit.

 

Parenting Skills- 2018

Ringor Mortis, Punch Clock Animal/General Morbit

No content warnings

Eastwood makes an attempt at parenting.

 

Shooting the Messenger- 2018

Ringor Mortis, Punch Clock Animal/General Morbit, takes place very soon after Wane's death

No content warnings

Grind tries to tell Wax something important.

 

Pareidolia- 2018

Ringor Mortis, Punch Clock Animal/General Morbit

CW: Alcohol, intrusive thoughts, self destruction, grief

Wax tries to make sense of it all. Request. 

 

Clutch- 2018

Ringor Mortis, Punch Clock Animal/General Morbit

CW: Torture mentions, grief, abuse implications

Chelsea begins her morning routine. 

 

Old Gauntlet Scribbles- 2018

Ringor Mortis, TCP Gauntlet, old, extremely short and debatably still canon

CW: Drugs, needles

Multiple short glimpses into the life of Dropdead.

 

DROP DEAD!- 2018

Ringor Mortis, TCP Gauntlet

CW: Drugs, violence

Come one, come all, to Hoopla's greatest new show- the TCP Gauntlet!
The question everyone has, however...what is our host like off the air?

 

As Usual, As Always- 2018

Ringor Mortis, Punch Clock Animal/General Morbit

CW: Abuse implications, gore, negative self talk

Derry begins its morning routine.

 

Just Jealous- 2019

Ringor Mortis, Punch Clock Animal/General Morbit

CW: Abuse implications, denial of DID

In which Chelsea considers murdering a god.

 

Just Right- 2019

Ringor Mortis, Vest Party, pre-Sleepwalker

CW: Abuse, implications of past abusive relationships

Leo and Ashton have an argument.

 

Buffet- 2019
B. Comorant + Ringor Mortis, Punch Clock Animal/General Morbit, takes place in past
No content warnings
Chelsea and Bucket go on a little date. Request for @chemtrails!

 

Sign Here- 2019

B. Comorant, Crankshaft Rafflesian, takes place before comic's events

No content warnings

Two robots meet over paperwork.

 

Beta Testing- 2018
knux400, TCP Gauntlet, takes place before RP events
CW: Gore, Violence
Bandage meets with Dropdead? to test a potential Gauntlet enemy. Hilarity ensues.

Vacation - 2019
B. Comorant, Punch Clock Animal/General Morbit, takes place between Punch Clock Animal /Crankshaft Rafflesian and Masa con Papas
No content warnings
Charon meets up with his cousin to take some time off in Plaza

A Normal Therapy Session for Robots- 2019
B. Comorant, Crankshaft Rafflesian, takes place before comic
No content warnings
Dotty has a session with her therapist.

An Unwanted Invitation: A Bucket Solo Venture- 2019
B. Comorant, Punch Clock Animal/General Morbit
No content warnings
Bucket reluctantly attends a wedding at Rein's request.

Fledgling - 2019
Ringor Mortis, Punch Clock Animal/General Morbit
No content warnings
Wax and Wane have an argument over their newest god.

Lockout - 2020
Shivers, Patchwork Kernel
Content warnings: intrusive thoughts, anxiety, dissociation, parental neglect
13-year-old Juno tries to do some bonding.

Macaroon - 2020
Shivers, Patchwork Kernel
No content warnings.
Blink loses a bet.

Feedback - 2020
Rin + Shivers, High gods
No content warnings.
Wax stumbles into a project.

Candidates - 2020
Rin + Shivers, Patchwork Kernel
No content warnings.
Wax conducts follow-up interviews.

Standing By the New World Order - 2020
Seth, Universal Constants, [Work Not Found]
CW: death, identity destruction, body horror, family strife, gore, military themes
All in-universe links are real, please click them.
Logs of an important day

Red Ice - 2020
Como + Shivers, Punchclock Animal
Content warnings: violence, blood, injury, mentions of death, mild body horror
Bucket takes shelter in an abandoned cabin.

Convertible - 2020
Rin + Shivers, Patchwork Kernel
CW: serious injury, self-harm, breakdown
Pepper helps an injured opponent.

Fourth Plate - 2020
Como + Shivers, Masa con Papas + Patchwork Kernel
CW: injury, blood, needles
Erica has a surprise visitor. 

Total Scrap Containment Sphere Operations Manual- 2020
knux400, General Morbit 
CW: Medical, death, suffocation, needles, and memory/personality altering
A pamphlet detailing how to operate some kind of device.

Fishbowl - 2021
Shivers, Patchwork Kernel
CW: violence, unhealthy dynamics, surveillance mention
Pepper enlists Blink's expertise on something new.

[skinstealer]

---

Respite- 2018

Ringor Mortis, Punch Clock Animal/General Morbit

No content warnings

Wax and Wane spend some time together.

---

“You look even more tired than usual, champ.”

You glance over at your partner, their grin wider than ever. It’d been a while since you’ve been able to meet like this, and you’re not sure how they’re able to stay so upbeat. You flop into their lap, Wane retracting their horns and patting you on the head.

“Cmon, tell me what’s eating you. That’s not the face of somebody having a good day.”

You groan and shove your head into their mane, still grumpy from earlier.

“It’s just the usual. I’m just...exhausted.”

“Cult again?”

“Mm, I don’t know why they’re so active as of late...I really should talk to Spit about it. I try to stay out of everyone’s business, but-”

“She’s a real piece of work, isn’t she?” They tilt their head and lift you up a bit, getting you to face them. “Every day I wonder ‘huh, maybe making a god of violence was a shitty idea’.”

You can’t help but snort, perking up a bit. “I did tell you it was a bad plan!”

“And I never listen, do I?”

“Never, but that’s not going to stop me from trying.”

They give you a quick peck on the forehead, and you settle into a comfortable hug. Their fur is so warm, and it’s easy to drift off into much more pleasant thoughts. You can hear them humming a tune, and you recognize it as one of your favorites.

Someday, you will miss them more than anything. 

[skinstealer]

---

Frostbite- 2018

Ringor Mortis, General Morbit

CW: Depictions of psychosis/chronic illness

Dysthanasia goes out to get meds.

---

You bundle yourself up in lineart, your grin warping into a grimace as it formed a tight dress around your body. You wouldn’t bother with it most days, but it’s an all new low temperature in the city, and you learned your lesson last year. Your body may be tough enough to bear it, but having your slime that cold felt fucking terrible. You glance over at the mirror, grimace worsening as you see yourself blink. You give your reflection a thumbs up, grateful that at least that seems synced up with the rest of you. You cover your eyes up quickly, hair extending over your face. Time to get moving.

Elevator’s broken, because of course it is. You check around to make sure nobody’s watching before wrapping some lineart around your feet, making some impromptu boots. Those stairs were icy on a good day, and you weren’t testing your luck. You’ve lived in this complex long enough for the other tenants to get used to your appearance, and they didn’t even bother giving you a second glance. At first you were grateful, but there was something sobering about it now- your brain is quick to tell you that you weren’t worth thinking about now that they got used to your weird looks. They believed your story hook, line and sinker, and if you actually went and told the truth, you’d just get laughed at.

No high god could be this small, or this sick.

They ran out of your meds at the drug store again. You maintain your smile and tell them it’s all good, you’d just come back again tomorrow. They apologize profusely but avert their eyes, and you’re pretty sure they’ve got plenty in the back. You’re not sure whether to feel proud that they consider you enough of a problem to take all the extra strength painkillers off the shelf, or like shit. You buy more cheap candy than you should and leave before they can give you the change back. You didn’t need the stupid medicine anyway.

It’s snowing, and most people are trying to get the hell out of the cold. You’re a few blocks from home still, and things are starting to get fuzzy around the edges. It’s not even that heavy, but your bag of candy is getting hard to hold. You keep yourself upright and try not to slip, and keep focusing on your steps- one in front of the other. You didn’t need the meds, and you were going to get home in one piece, and it wasn’t really that cold, not worth thinking about. It didn’t hurt, and you were fine

and now you’re inside. The elevator is working again, and you’re okay.

You’re riding up to your twelfth floor apartment, and you’re okay.

You’re stripping down and throwing your candy onto your bed, catching your face distort in the mirror as you repeat your mantra over and over- you’re okay, and you’re home.

You don’t know how long it takes for your mind to clear, but it does, as much as it can. You unwrap some candy and pop it in your mouth, and it helps some. Who needs painkillers when you have this, right? You drag your computer over using some lineart, careful not to drop it- it took a while to save up for one of these portable models, and you’d kick yourself for weeks if you broke it. No one’s responded to your new posts, but you’ll make more of them, and something’s gotta come of it.

It can’t be like this forever.

[skinstealer]

---

Uncle Grind- 2018

Ringor Mortis, Punch Clock Animal/General Morbit

No content warnings

Alloy comes over for a visit.

---

“hi!! grind!! uncle grind!!!”

He’s already climbing- slithering?- all over you, and you can’t bring yourself to feel annoyed...he’s a sweet child, not a mean shred in his body. You manage a laugh and keep your body language welcoming, hiding the nasty headache you had from earlier. He’s none the wiser, giggling and giving you his weird snake hugs.

“It has been a long time. Are you behaving at home?”

“yep! i do so much work it hurts my head but grandpa wax says i do a really really good job”

“I’m sure you do. You care a lot about your people”

“mmmhm! i wanna make sure everybody has things like school and food and pillows and”

“And your lesser gods are good to you?”

“yes theyve been teaching me all sorts of things like math and space and even oceans! did you know how big the oceans are because i sure didnt and”

There he goes. You listen to him, content to endure a child’s dear ramblings after your rough morning. Part of you wishes you got to have children of your own...but that was clearly out of the picture. Still, your time acting as his ‘uncle’ scratched an itch you would never admit you had- to be parental. It was nice, in a way.

[skinstealer]

---

Parenting Skills- 2018

Ringor Mortis, Punch Clock Animal/General Morbit

No content warnings

Eastwood makes an attempt at parenting.

---

“Caaarrriiiiie.” You hear your dad calling you and grimace. Here he comes.

He knocks and you let him in, surprised to see him sober. First time you’ve seen him not high off his ass in...what, a week? Still, it’s good to see him not doped up, for once.

“Yeah, Dad?”

“You uh...you going out tonight?”

You finish wrapping your hands in cloth, stretching out and looking for your jacket. “Yep.”

“....”

“....”

“Well, just...be careful. Again.”

“I’m gonna be fine, Dad. It’s just another match.”

“I know, but you came home all bruised up and shit the other night, and...and I worry. I wasn’t able to help you out, and I suck at this, and-”

“Dad, it’s okay. Really.” You get yourself pulled together and head for the door, giving him an extremely brief hug. “I know how to hold my own out there.”

“No motif use, okay?”

“Dad.”

“Okay, okay. Just...be good. Don’t get your ass kicked.”

You give him a thumbs up and hurry on out the door, wondering if he was going to be okay tonight himself. He’d probably be out cold by the time you came back in the morning, but you had to do your own thing. You can’t just babysit your dad all the time- it felt cruel to think, so you chase that away. He’s not a very good one, but you guess he’s trying as best he can. Sort of.

[skinstealer]

---

Shooting the Messenger- 2018

Ringor Mortis, Punch Clock Animal/General Morbit, takes place very soon after Wane's death

No content warnings

Grind tries to tell Wax something important.

---

“Leave.”

“I am telling you. I have crucial-”

“Grind. I appreciate you coming, and caring so much, but I need you to leave.”
“I can’t. Not until you listen to me.”

“Not today, Grind. Contact me when you get back home.”

“NO! You need to hear this, here!”

Wax hisses, clutching his head and shifting, eyes blazing with anger. You take a few steps back, bowing your head instinctively. A metallic whine escapes as you see his face burst into petals, thorns jutting out from his neck. You don’t want to see this, you don’t want to be here, but you can’t just leave-

“What I NEED, Grind, is for you to get the HELL out of my house.”

Wax bends down and you can see his face perfectly now, your whines turning into choking cries. You can’t look away, no matter how much you want to, no matter how much you need to tear your eyes away from him.

“P-please. I wouldn’t...I wouldn’t come...you need to! Please.”

“Shut up.” He leans even closer and you keep backing up. “You have no, no idea what I have been through, and I cannot even begin to address ANYTHING but this right now.”

You nod, backing up again until you feel the wall behind you, turning around and running as fast as you can. Nothing matters more than escaping that face, not even what you came here for. In the moment, the raw feeling of unease and dread building over the past few weeks has been replaced by sheer terror. It would have to wait.

[skinstealer]

---

Pareidolia- 2018

Ringor Mortis, Punch Clock Animal/General Morbit

CW: Alcohol, intrusive thoughts, self destruction, grief

Wax tries to make sense of it all. Request. 

---

It’s not quite right, but you’ve done your best. At least, that’s what you try to tell yourself as you try not to tumble out of your seat, legs of the newly made stool wobbling underneath you. You’ll never know what one of these things look like up close, like everything else you’ve made for yourself here. It’s all guesswork, desperately trying to grasp onto bits and pieces floating around in the collective mess.

Like some kind of patchwork disaster. Some kind of holy creator I am, can’t even make a barstool right. The so-called king of Taverne, or whatever the hell they call me these days.

The walls aren’t right either, with discordant, confusing patterns papered on. Looking at them makes you nervous, seeing faces and figures where there’s nothing but blobs and streaks. You desperately try to find something else to look at, settling on the bar in front of you.

Well, I did come here for a reason.

You don’t have to focus very hard to conjure up a mug, godspace filling in the blanks of what you don’t know. It’s a shitty mug, but it’s yours now, at least for however long you mope in here. Getting an actual drink in there is trickier, and you don’t think the result is any one kind of booze. Mortals were so obsessed with alcohol, even other gods- but being the size you are, you’ve never actually tried-

Except once

-before in your very long life. One of Wretch’s lesser gods was notorious for consuming this stuff, and you always dismissed it. He was drinking to stop feeling, to kill himself slowly, to abuse his body until it rotted. Hell, you looked down on him for it. But in this moment, can’t anymore. You almost understand it now.

If this could take even a fraction of the pain away, it would be worth it.

Downing the drink is horrible from start to finish, coughing without lungs and struggling to keep it down- not that there was any way to spit it back up, with your body. All of these feelings and vestigial behaviors for functions you don’t have, choking, crying, gagging and swallowing. But it does go down, and you let it settle, bracing yourself for whatever effect it may have.

What am I doing here, waiting for some...mortal drug to kick my ass. I’m supposed to be on top of this. I’m not supposed to be sitting here, hoping that this foul drink either gives me some sort of foolish enlightenment or wrecks me to the point where I don’t think anymore. I’m not supposed to be this weak, pathetic shell of a god.

You look down at your hands, clenching and unclenching them into fists.

But I always was, wasn’t I?

You hate them. Useless, fingerless hands, crayon outlines shaking and distorting slightly. Hands too large to protect, the slightest motion risking destruction outside of these planes, your body kept still and quiet back in a lonely cave, isolated from the outside world.  

Wane was always the strongest, the one people looked to and cheered for. People loved them, and looked to them for everything- and they gave. They were adored.

Their smile flashes in your mind, all teeth and confidence. It’s paired with that look in their eyes that they got after winning yet another game against you, so obviously letting you get ahead- but allowing that, just so that you could run ahead laughing, and they could chase you, and catch you, and hold you.

They deserved it. All of it.

Nights spent together in this very plane, poking at concepts floating by and seeing what new inventions the mortals had come up with- and how you know they would enjoy the things of today, with all of the sports and television , how they would adore television, just as they enjoyed the theater, asking you again and again if you could conjure a play for them.

They had so much love to give, and I had so little, and what little I had I was either too afraid to give it away, or gave it to them. And even then, it wasn’t enough.

There were fights, of course there were fights. Millenia upon millenia passed and to this day you cannot remember how many times arguments broke out, over creation, over the ethics of mortals, over their children, over raising them right- and who was to define right, you or them?  

It’ll never be enough, and I’ll never be able to tell them just how much they meant to me. How much they still mean to me.

There were times that they grew quiet, refusing to answer for weeks at a time. Months, at worst, at one point perhaps even a year- you had stopped counting, every day spent primarily here, creating environments they liked in a desperate attempt to bring them back to you. When they returned, it was without fanfare, only guilt deep in their eyes and attempts to reassure you that everything was fine. That they were home now, and that was what mattered.

I know they had secrets, I know they lied to me. I know there were things unspoken between us and maybe, maybe that was for the best. Maybe it was for my own safety, but I know they used their powers at least once.

Memory blanks, not often, but there. Things that don’t add up, but nothing so solid that you could say anything, and never about anything important. Some still linger, holes in your mind that you try to ignore, shoving them away almost frantically.

At least once, and on me.

They had stopped playing games with you as much, towards the end. Of course the both of you would try, and it was almost as much fun as it always was, until you saw the corner of their mouth twitch. Even if just a single smile was forced, you felt your energy fade, and wished desperately that they would let you in, if only for a moment. That they would let you help them.

I loved them still. I love them now. Perhaps it’s delusional to forgive someone for betraying you like that but god damn it I can’t see them as a bad person, I can’t see them as someone-  

Wane’s sleeping face next to yours was the most serene thing you’d ever seen, even with the ability to conjure as many natural wonders in this space as you could ever want. None of it came close to how precious they were to you, and in that moment you forgave everything, and hoped with all of your heart that the next day, maybe the next day they would talk to you. Please, let them talk to you.

I can’t see them as anyone other than who I do now.

They were an ideal to you, the perfect partner, even with all of the flaws and dishonesty, so ironic for a god of truth. Even after the worst of it, they would sit gently by your side and you would lean on them, no one saying a single word. It wasn’t supposed to be like this, but that’s what it was, and it was still better than anything you deserved. Anything you could ever hope for.

Maybe that’s not right, either. Right of me, or right to say so. But I’ll never know. It’s just this endless, having to admit to myself “I don’t know, I never will!” and it goes on and on and on until it suffocates me and there it is again, a useless process I’ll never actually experience and yet my mind screams of suffocation and losing air and

You throw your mug against the wall, shoulders heaving and form distorting hard, tears rolling down your face.

....

You look up at that horrible wallpaper, and you swear in all of your blurred vision that you can see their face, eyes lidded and mouth wide in a drunken smile, blissed out and warm.

This was better with you, Wane.

You don’t look away this time, staring dead into the wallpaper face’s eyes as the tears stream down.

I’m sorry. 

I’ll be better tomorrow. I promise.

I promise.

[skinstealer]

---

Clutch- 2018

Ringor Mortis, Punch Clock Animal/General Morbit

CW: Torture mentions, grief, abuse implications

Chelsea begins her morning routine. 

---

The screams have started up again, a dull but unfortunately familiar ambiance to your morning routine. Whether the sun was actually up was a mystery, but if you woke up, it was morning, and that was that. It was a rule you made for yourself decades back in an attempt to carve out some semblance of a normal, sane existence for yourself, one that didn’t involve hearing the pleas of a doomed man as you scrubbed gristle out of your clothes. Making an arbitrary distinction between “morning” and “night”, it didn’t mean anything to anybody but you- but that was how you preferred it, these days. 

Other people getting involved in your shit never ended well.

You open your crate, rifling through the world’s most sorry looking wardrobe to pull out what little things you have to your name. You check your stash once in the morning, and once before bed, just to ensure Spit hasn’t fucked with it. For decades she’s remained utterly disinterested, but you knew better than to trust the devil herself. 

Today, your inventory is safe: Three outfits (full of holes, permanently stained, absolutely disgusting), a handful of pens (cheap, ballpoint, half empty), the palm-sized box used to carry your scraps (flesh-bound, mediocre at best, distressing to think about), a collapsible staff (somewhat trusty, more useful than anything else you own, good at whacking), and a stack of journals locked with binding scraps, the most current one tucked away at the bottom.

You haven’t journaled in a good month or two, but maybe today’s the day you get off your ass and actually write something, even if it’s trash. Hell, especially if it’s trash. At least it’d get it out of your head, freeing up prime real estate for more torture and death, and maybe, if you’re lucky, something actually worth saving. You shuffle it out with care, trying to ignore the knot in your stomach.

Something falls out from between the pages, and you know what it is without even looking. Every other time you go to write it slips away, and you nearly fall over trying to keep it from hitting the ground. You don’t want to get it any dirtier than it has, lettering already fading around the edges. The note itself held little importance, but the tiny scrap embedded within was your most precious possession, and as with every other time, you can’t keep yourself from looking within.

A laugh, confident and happy even with that gentle, almost invisible undercurrent of unease that you knew all too well. You’re laughing too in this frozen moment, and the feeling of fur, clean and soft against your cheek, makes your breath hitch. You pride yourself on your ability to numb your mind to even the most horrific experiences, and yet, here you are, fighting back tears over the last hug you’d ever received, and probably ever would. 

God, why did they have to be so stupid? So kind, so horribly kind and hopeful, the worst qualities to have in this nightmare job. You cuss them out as you cling onto this scrap, the last good moment in your life, like it’s some kind of tattered life raft that god, you know is going to slip away and you’ll drown, but for now, please, just another moment...

The memory fades and the screaming resumes. You wipe your face before your brain can even properly register you’ve been crying. You were so good at routine, and this had wormed its way in amidst the false day and night, a moment of weakness you despised yourself for, every time.

And like every other time, you tuck the scrap away, careful not to let it fall. You set the journal down in its rightful place, the most delicate part of your day. A few more seconds wasted lingering and you pull yourself together with a sharp, rattling exhale. Today will not be a writing day, and there’s no time to mourn the foolish.

You have work to do.

[skinstealer]

---

Old Gauntlet Scribbles- 2018

Ringor Mortis, TCP Gauntlet, old, extremely short and debatably still canon

CW: Drugs, needles

Multiple short glimpses into the life of Dropdead.

---

Part 1: Dirty Dealings

"So you're the one giving us these shipments." Dropdead would narrow her eyes if she had any, but settled on trying to look as intimidating as possible to the motif encrusted person before her. They didn't react, keeping a steady, equally eyeless gaze back at the TCP.

"That's me. You're the first tester of this shit, aren't you."

"Unfortunately." She fails to keep aggression out of her voice.

"Look, I'm just here to get paid-"

Dropdead takes a step forward, the dealer standing tall in front of her. "This ruins lives. You're killing us, piece by piece! Good people are being kept in the worst hell imaginable, only because you want a quick buck!"

"Without this money," the dealer raises their voice in kind. "I'm protecting TCPs more than your company ever will. The way you treat your own kind sickens me!" They lean in close and snarl, grabbing the cash out of Dropdead's hand and shoving the case into her chest. "Maybe you'd deserve to live if you were more like them. You're the sick one."

With that, the dealer whips around, leaving the garage as quickly as they came.

Dropdead's shoulders shook, and despite knowing it was in vain, she screamed at the dealer's back.

"IT'S BECAUSE OF YOU THAT I'M SICK!"

Part 2: Daily Fix

I'm in charge, she tells herself. I'm still in charge. They're not the bosses here, I am.

They plunge the needle into her skin and she's screaming mentally, refusing to give them the satisfaction of hearing it escape her head.

I'm the boss. This is just what has to happen. I'm the boss and they have to listen to me, not the other way around. This is just standard procedure that I can stop any time I want.

Her fluid runs cold, familiar and soothing, the burning itch satiated for another day.

They walk away, leaving Dropdead in her massive bed, large for a karacel and dwarfing for a TCP.

I can stop.

I can stop.

Part 3: Trashy Television

“Dropdead, you might want to look at this.”

Dropdead stirs from her dissociative rest, rolling onto her side. “What’s so damn important it’s gotta wake me up?”

Meatball turns one of Dropdead’s portable TVs, placed on a wheely cart and covered in wires. The recording shows one of the contestants having a pretty severe breakdown, and a good number of other TCPs coming to her aid. Dropdead watches in silence as they work to calm her down, and both her and another contestant are tucked in for the night.

“I don’t want to-”

“I know, Meatball. I know. I’m not gonna air it.”

“Wait- Really?”

“Yeah. There’s no...honor, or some shit, to that. People want drama, but we’d look like dicks if we aired something like that. We’re not trashy television.”

Meatball watches as she rolls back over, waving her hand in his general direction. “Get rid of that clip, all of it. No use to us.”

He nods and wheels the cart away, leaving Dropdead to stare at the wall restlessly, trying not to ruminate on what she just saw.

Some things were too close to home.

[skinstealer]

---

DROP DEAD!- 2018

Ringor Mortis, TCP Gauntlet

CW: Drugs, Violence

Come one, come all, to Hoopla's greatest new show- the TCP Gauntlet!

The question everyone has, however...what is our host like off the air?

---

Part 1: Breakdown

Brat. Fucking brat.


Dropdead stood in her office, trying to get a grip on herself. The walls were swimming and the small cuts in her hands were starting to bleed, shards of broken mugs and vases surrounding her. She staggered through the sharp pieces and onto her couch, wondering if they’d be less painful than the shoes on her feet.

Fuck this show. Fuck every single one of these contestants, but especially that one.

She traced the markings on her arms and shuddered, looking away as best she could. Everywhere. It was everywhere and she couldn’t do anything about it. Nothing new though, right? Just one more thing she couldn’t deal with-

She grabbed a pillow and screamed into it, wishing she was strong enough to tear it in two. She didn’t know how long it lasted, or how loud she was, but by the time she stopped she had nothing left in her. Empty again.

Good.

Stopping wasn’t an option. She would clean up her office before Meatball found out, and continue to film the players. She would sit through interview after interview, and ideally, none of them would go this badly. No more of this. Nothing like that would happen again. There were only a few left, and things would be fine.

It was all going to be fine.

Part 2: Basic Business

“This wasn’t part of the deal.”

You’re seething, all vitriol and rage directed at the man in front of you. He remains smiling, as always.

“You see, kid...that’s the thing.” He leans forward, overbearing and looming. “When you make a deal, it’s usually...an even split, or close to it. A deal requires both parties to have something the other wants. That’s just basic business.”

He reaches out, placing a claw under your chin. You turn away, trying to ignore the sting. “And you know, Dropdead? Everything you could offer me…” You try not to hiss as he puts pressure on with his claw, ignoring the feeling of your skin burning. “I already have.”

“I have all the cards, so I suggest you...what do you tell the contestants?” He starts laughing, a rattle that slowly escalates into a high pitched cackle. “Play nice, was it?”

He withdraws his hand and you nearly pitch forward, trying to catch yourself as he grabs your neck in a single motion. “We good, kid?”

He squeezes.

“Or do I have to make some calls?”

You shake your head and he drops you, falling over for real this time. He taps his foot a few times before shoving you along the floor with it, out towards the door.

“Glad to see we have an understanding. Keep those ratings up, won’t you?”

[skinstealer]

---

As Usual, As Always- 2018

Ringor Mortis, Punch Clock Animal/General Morbit

CW: Abuse implications, gore, negative self talk

Derry begins its morning routine.

---

It’s dark here, just like always. You’re not scared of the dark, or what comes with it, but it makes your skin feel even worse than usual- it’s too tight, too constricting...Lina always calls you a baby for complaining about it, even if they do the same thing, all the time! It’s different with them, though...

I’m not a kid. I don’t know the right words sometimes, but I’m not a kid! But no one ever listens to me...

You stagger to your feet, trying to ignore how wrong it all felt. The weight wasn’t right, the shape didn’t fit, the feeling of a heartbeat reminding you just how much you don’t belong here in this skin.

Hunger gnaws at your stomach, and you just know that Harvey will be disappointed if you don’t eat. You don’t like it, you never do...maybe a little , but it’s one of those things. One of those things that got people calling you names.

Derry’s so gross, Derry’s fucked up in the head, Derry shouldn’t be allowed to do anything because it’s so, so wrong!

You sniffle and wipe your face, trying to shove the feelings of shame down.

You walk to the kitchen, all wobbly. There’s glass on the floor, and everyone would be so mad if you ended up cutting up your feet again. You didn't mind much at all, really. Cuts don’t hurt too bad. People yelling at you though, that was the worst.

I’m going to mess it up again, I’ll do it again and, everyone will be so mad...

As usual, the fridge’s contents were limited to raw meat, some of it looking really really rotten. You’ve eaten stuff like that plenty of times, but today you had other options. The last time you tried to cook it, you burned your hand...You pull out a chunk of someone’s arm and take a bite.

Thank you for letting me eat you. I’m sorry that it probably hurt a lot, but it’s over now! You don’t have to worry anymore. You’re kinda lucky-

You choke it down, wishing you had some water or something. It’s so much worse going down without it, but you don’t have much choice in the matter. A voice cuts through your inner monologue, high pitched and grating.

“Where’s my demon, where’s she hiding?”  

You can hear her coming, only just barely able to pick out footsteps in your dissociative haze. It gets harder and harder to focus as she grows closer, and you know that eventually, all that’s left will be the dull feeling of getting what you deserve.

“Cheeeelsea, come on out...I’ve had a long, long day.”

Sometimes you forget that she’s talking to you, using a name that isn’t yours, touching a body that isn’t yours, causing pain that is yours, and no one else’s.

She looms over you, smile wide and twisted. You stare back up at her, feeling the emptiness wash over you, as usual, as always, as always usual.

Everything stays the same, with you.

Everything.

[skinstealer]

---

Just Jealous- 2019

Ringor Mortis, Punch Clock Animal/General Morbit

CW: Abuse implications, denial of DID

In which Chelsea considers murdering a god.

---

You’re going to kill it. You’re absolutely, definitely, going to kill it.

Yeah? With what? You’ve tried offing Spit before and couldn’t pull off the job.

It’s different this time.

Oh, so you can’t put up a fight for us, but you can do it for some broad-

Don’t call them that.

They abandoned you. They abandoned us.

They’ll be back.

When? When the hell are they coming back? How long’s it been, Chelsea?

Stop it.

They fucking left you, and you’re STILL hung up on it, and guess what? They’re not coming back! Ever!

Stop it.

For all you know, they could be dead-

Shut up. Just, just shut up. You’ve had enough of this shit and you’re tired and you’re going to kill it, goddamnit.

What makes you think they even still want you anyway? You’re not their type. Nah, you’re lacking in the whole “strong and brooding intellectual” department. You’re a scraggly little bitch. That’s what you really are, and thanks to some assholes in here, our body’s fucked up to the point of nobody ever wanting us. How about that, Chelsea? You gonna kill somebody just because you think you have a chance? Because you think it’ll make them into you? Yeah, real hero you are. You just want to kill it because you’re fucking jealous.

That’s not true. 

Then why now? We’ve been here for this long and you were fine and dandy with that creep’s shit until it went and fucked up a pretty dog that you got a crush on. You didn’t care. You looked the other way, every time, and you’re still doing it unless it’s got something to do with your unrequited sweetheart.

You’re a terrible goddamn person Chelsea, and it’d do you some good to actually admit it for once.  You’d be the same thing for them. Fucking poison. We have dirty hands and you know it, but you still want to put them all over-

It’s not the same. You’re not the same as Rein.

So you’re the better choice? You? You’re Spit’s trophy wife at best, and Derry’s even better at that than you. You both make me sick.

You try not to hear him.

Listen to me.

No-

LISTEN TO ME

You don’t want to. You don’t want to hear it. You don’t want to hear another word. He’s not real. He’s not real, he’s not real-

I’M REAL AND YOU KNOW IT

It’ll all go away, it’ll be fine, it’s...it’s fine.

Have it your way. Spend your life trying to ignore us, see how much good it does you. They’re not coming back for you either way.

...you know that.

Then stop hoping already. It’s just miserable to watch and I’m sick of it. Besides.

He hesitates.

...They wouldn’t want to be around if they knew more about us, us as in all of us, anyway. Not like this.

You never had a chance.

[skinstealer]

---

Just Right- 2019

Ringor Mortis, Vest Party, pre-Sleepwalker

CW: Abuse, implications of past abusive relationships

Leo and Ashton have an argument.

---

It’s late at night, the night air is clear, and your partner is polishing your jewelry. He’s talking, but you can’t tell what he’s saying over the sound of your own thoughts. Something about today’s mission, no doubt.

You can’t stand it.

“Ashton.”

“Yeah?"

“Please. Shut up.”

He almost puffs up in rage, biting his lip and exhaling hard. “I don’t have to take this shit.”

“Yeah? Name somewhere better you could be right now. Anywhere at all.”

He clams up, and you can’t help but smirk. “That’s what I thought. I’m the best you’re gonna get.”

“Hmph.” His tail lashes around as he crosses his arms and mutters something under his breath.
 
“You wanna say something to me, Ash?”

“Never mind .”

“No, no, I want to hear it.” You reach out and grab his tail right before the tip, squeezing hard enough to make him wince. “Go on. Say it.”

He snarls, avoiding eye contact. “...For all the shit you gave Flynt for getting emotional over his ex, you still get worked up over him.”

“Don’t you dare.”

“I’m sick of it! You barely even look at me anymore! All you do is mope around and think about that pathetic, sniveling little bird.”

You grip his tail harder, Ashton still going off through the pain. “I want to kick his head right off for what he did to you, but you’ve got plenty of good right here-” He gestures to himself, running his hands down his torso. “-that won’t break your goddamn fingers, or cry in the middle of the night when you’re trying to sleep, or whine about life here in Monte not being good enough .”

You let go of Ashton’s tail, the other de’moneres letting out a gasp of relief. “Fine. Maybe you’re right.”

“And ANOTHER thing- wait, what?”

“You’re right. I shouldn’t be thinking about that piece of shit anymore. Doesn’t deserve the space in my skull.”

He grins, all misgivings forgotten at the smallest implication of being right about something. The man’s brain was a painfully simple, almost stupid thing, and it’s easy enough to get him to shut up by playing this game.

“You really mean it, Leo? Really?”

“Yeah. From now on, it’s all about you.”

You have to keep yourself from snarling at him as he pounces, tumbling onto the ground.

“I knew you’d be receptive, darling! Oh, you’re just wonderful-”

You start ignoring his praise all over again, nodding and giving the occasional obligatory “of course”. It didn’t take much to get him back on track, and as much as his incessant chatter bothered you, you liked how fast he snapped back from a fit. He was easy to deal with. Malleable. Able to take orders and get his hands dirty, whenever you asked- reveled in it, even. Oh, Ashton was just as twisted up as you were.

He was just right.

[skinstealer]

---

Buffet- 2019

B. Comorant + Ringor Mortis, Punch Clock Animal/General Morbit, takes place in past

No content warnings

Chelsea and Bucket go on a little date. Request for @chemtrails!

---

"You've arrived... much earlier than I anticipated! I don't expect most to make it until a 15 minute buffer before or after the prompted time." Bucket Judgment, best dog, was slightly more overdressed than usual for what was to be dinner at the region's local seafood place.

"Well...I wanted to be here, I guess...though I don't get why we're doing this here." Chelsea tried not to look anxious, glancing around at all the people. "I thought you liked that stuffy mansion."

"Stuffy is an understatement, one that merits a need for outside air. I'm just glad to see you've joined me for this... are you familiar with the establishment we're about to dine in?"

"I don't ever get the chance to go out like this."

"Might be good for the two of us then, yes? Certainly at the very least we'll fulfill a craving for flesh of the ocean.... it's a self service place, a bit on the casually fancy end. I figure you do not mind minimal interaction with strangers."

"I'll be fine." She bristled as someone passed by her. "Just show me how to do this whole self service thing."

"Certainly!" They held out their hand. "I'll lead you... since this is likely rather new as a concept to you after all."

Chelsea hesitated for just a moment before reaching out to take it, trying not to look as nervous as she felt. Oh god they're holding my hand and I'm so gross and please god don't notice that I'm gross

They returned it with a genuine smile. "Spit is difficult so I'm sure any time away from her is valuable... but if I may be selfish I'd like you to spend your visit with me... and that just happens to involve a good meal here and there.""

"No, I...I want you- I mean, I want to have time with you. Here. In this restaurant."

"Then so it shall be! Follow close." The dog shuffled them both toward the front entrance where upon opening the door they were bombarded with the smell of grilled fish and dark hot drinks.

She kept a tight grip on their hand, careful not to bump into anyone.

"So first things first, grab yourself a tray! I suggest you only stack what you know you can eat now however, they don't care for those who pick up excessive food only to dump it... they will find you and fee you on it."

"Yeesh. Do they really have people watching for that?" She let go of their hand reluctantly, reaching for a tray and realizing how anxious she was over how balance was going to work out.

They dog took notice quickly and held out their hand. "Ah! I apologize for not considering your situation, pass that along. I'll carry if you assist in serving."

"You sure? I don't want to burden you, and I-I've made worse work." She avoided eye contact.

"I'm certain.... if you'd like we could also share a tray. There's more than enough space!"

"If you're sure..." She managed a smile.

"Mmhmm! Give me the tray, pick anything you'd like."

She passed the tray over, looking over the options. "Uh...Could you give me some recommendations? I haven't exactly had any seafood aside from, well. Leftover remnants."

"There's ocean remnants?"

"I'm surprised you haven't seen any, thought you were an expert on that kind of thing."

"You'd think so! But I'm merely a woodlander well versed at using a sharp stick on unusually toothy things. The ocean is a criminally unexplored domain on my regards. Go for the shellfish, they're quite chewy."

She reached over to put some on their tray, getting a bit of everything. "I'd say you're a bit more than well versed."

The dog kept a good grip as they went down the line. "Only the littlest bit..."

"You can give yourself more credit than that."

"I know I could but... I like to avoid flaunting too much even if it's true."

She couldn’t help but frown. "Does Rein tell you to do that?"

"Of course not! I simply wish to give the impression to others that they have a fighting chance to compete."

Her smile returned, more than a little relieved. "I see how it is. You're lulling them into a false sense of security."

"Mm! If you're truly strong, you only try to look strong enough. Weak foe will avoid trying to confront you  and strong foe don't feel threatened enough to put you on their radar."

"Guess I just come off as someone to pick fights with."

"You come off strong!"

Chelsea gave them a look.

"Sincerely! Before we continue may I suggest we shuffle toward a table?"

"Yeah, sorry...don't want to hold up the line."

"You're fine!"

"That corner table alright?"

"Mmhmm. You have a preference for them I take?"

"I like my back against the wall...I mean, if that's stupid we can always pick somewhere else."

"No that's.., actually a pretty common reason for that seat believe it or not."

"Really? Guess that helps a bit..."

"Mmhmm! You'd be surprised how popular the corner table is. A solid pick!" Bucket placed the tray of food onto the table and slid into the chair.

Chelsea settled into her own seat, realizing she'd have to scoot a little closer to share the tray. "Is, is it alright if I move my chair? They're not going to yell at me, right?"

"Nobody would dare do so in front of me."

She moved her chair closer, bringing her fork with her. "So...you think I'm strong looking?"

"Mm! You certainly have that sense of feeling bigger than you look without the distinct brand of insecurity often tied to it... it's real!"

"I just feel small next to you."

"Do you really? Even when you can poke out an eye with a headbutt?"

"Bucket, you could pick me up and throw me across this restaurant."

"I can do that to anyone."

"Right, and that makes me feel small."

Their ears flopped down. "Is... that bad?"

"No, no, shit, just...I guess with you it's okay. It's good."

"Mm... you're alright coming here too yes? I'd like to get a good idea of what places you like and what you'd avoid for our days out together."

"I can manage this. Are you sure you want to do this, though? I mean...you're out with a pretty notorious demon right now. Back at the manor you don't have to deal with, well...your rep getting hurt. Because of me."

"My reputation is difficult to hurt and will always recover, and even if it weren't true it wouldn't matter."

"How can you be so sure?"

 "I wouldn't be a hero to anyone if I wasn't. I wouldn't be here having a nice brunch with you without a fear in the world."

Chelsea busied herself with the food, trying to hide the fact that she was blushing.

The dog caught on and did the same, trying to cover up their satisfaction with her response to their cheesy speech.

She peeked over as discreetly as possible.

Bucket fumbled, trying to hide that they were watching her quietly.

Chelsea didn't catch on, keeping an eye on the dog as she ate, feeling the tiniest tinge of guilt as she couldn't help but notice all the little things that she liked.

They seemed nothing but comfortable eating here with her.

She wished more than anything to herself that she could say something. Anything, really.

They looked back up at them. "The food is good yes? I really do hope you're enjoying this even if it's a little odd for you."

"I am, honestly. More than I thought I'd like something like this, but...I guess it's because it's with you."

"That's good! Between you and me, I don't like going out on my own if I can avoid it."

"Really? You're so confident, though."

"One can be confident and still prefer time with friends and family. It wouldn't be nearly as good an evening if you hadn't come."

"Guess I'm not used to the idea of being considered anybody's friend, let alone family."

"We've known each other a good while now so... I'd do hope that you consider me one or the other."

"I mean- yeah, of course...just....get worried it isn't a mutual thing, you know? Us being friends." She took a bite of some fish, swallowing before continuing on. "Kind of stupid, I guess."

"Not at all! If I'm entirely honest... though I felt that we were it's quite assuring to hear it from you directly."

"Yeah?"

"Mmhmm! I think everyone is like that."

"I never would have guessed it from you, but I guess that's not really fair of me."

"I like to know that the people I want to be around also want me there I suppose. Especially since you knew me before my status reached a point that it'd create a bias when meeting people."

"I was real rough to you then..." She shook her head. "Resisted every single thing you tried to do to help me."

"You needed assistance... even if it was hard I couldn't sit and watch Spit mistreat you so much."

"I bit you!"

"I've been bit worse!"

"You had to clean off weeks worth of grime and everything...I was so embarassed, even before I knew your status."

"You're doing quite better now! I could hug you!"

"E-eh? Here? People will see and youll get stared at and-"

"I didn't mean right now but if you'd like I wouldn't mind."

She swallowed and squeezed her eyes shut before reaching out.

They pulled her in for a big but gentle hug.

She tried not to think about everyone watching, or what people would think, or the fact that Bucket's fur was this soft, or that she wanted to fall asleep in their chest fluff, or-

"If it isn't too strange for you... I think I consider you my best friend."

Chelsea froze, completely unprepared for an emotional shock like that. 

"I'm really glad you've stuck with me for so many years."

This had to be some kind of dream or something.

"... I'm sorry is it too much?"

Chelsea snapped out of it, shaking her head carefully, not wanting to hurt Bucket with her horns.

"Do tell me if you feel uncomfortable, I'll understand."

"No, I just..." She pulled away, trying to hide the fact that tears had welled up a bit. "Thank you."

"Thank you too."

She wanted to say so many things.

They took a moment to pause, waiting for a response.

She cleared her throat, avoiding eye contact. If she even got a glimpse of them at this point, she knew she'd do something stupid in front of everyone.  "I'll...I'll do my best to be a good best friend."

"You already are."

She turned bright read and distracted herself with their tray, now completely clean. "G-Guess we were hungry."

"We certainly were. "

"I haven't eaten that well in a long time."

"We'll have to try to change that, at least whenever you're here."

"You don't have to go out of your way like this for me..."

"It's not going out of my way to spend time with you."

She let herself make eye contact, smiling. "In...in that case, do they charge for seconds?"

They smiled back. "I wouldn't mind either way."

[skinstealer]

---

Sign Here- 2019

B. Comorant, Crankshaft Rafflesian, takes place before comic's events

No content warnings

Two robots meet over paperwork.

---

You rest in the bed of a local doctor's office. Staring down at you is a retro looking synthetic construct in uniform. You have probably made a mistake at some point in your life.

"Alexandra DeRambo?"
"Just call me Lex."
"I'm Dotty, here from the state dueling regulation guild."
"Ah."
She presses the flat of her pen against a stack of papers on clipboards and folders. 

Dotty: I need a few confirmations on a few events you've participated in today, if that's alright?
Lex: Uh....
Dotty: Were you in a fight or a duel? I need direct verbal confirmation before I continue here since there was no registration for it.
Lex: Dude was getting fussy and I let him take shots twice before hitting back. It's self defense. Fight.

She scribbled down.
Dotty: Good good, noted. You know you can call self defense after the first shot though.
Lex: I like to make sure I have witnesses.
Dotty: You know what? Fair. Any use of outside arms? 
Lex: Nope, guy had claws though.
Dotty: Did you cause any direct provocation? 
Lex: None.
Dotty: Motive?
Lex: Uh... disagreement.
Even though she can't really emote much, you can feel her look. 
Dotty: ...About?
Lex: You know TCP?
Dotty: I know of them.
Lex: Tiny Cat People.
Dotty: Yes, they're an invasive species.
Lex: So a friend of mine and I got our usual debate right? He thinks someone is making them, and I'm saying nobody can just be making that many.

She coughs to hide a rising cackle.

Lex: Some random jackass just slides in and starts going off about how cats have no feelings.
Dotty: Big cats or tiny cats?
Lex: Does it matter?
Dotty: First one is high really key offensive, second one gets you blacklisted by 40% of gods.
Lex: ...I feel like there's some weird priorities here.
Dotty: There's entire city states that haven't seen a regular cat, it's a region by region case like oranges in a bathtub laws. Sign and initial here to prove that we talked about this.

You do so.

Lex: Huh... am I going to be alright?
Dotty: Well, you bled quite a bit and your arm needed a couple of stitches. It's mostly superficial though. Nurse will probably tell you to take it easy I'm sure.
Lex: He knows I won't.
Dotty: Ah, you're a repeat visitor.
Lex: Yep. Guessing I'm in trouble though..
Dotty: Probably not. You got roughed up a lot worse, you didn't break dueling law, and you didn't break regional law so at this point all you need to worry about is your campus. I'm sure they'll understand though.

She fusses to organize her folders of paperwork for a moment.

Lex: Yeah....
Dotty: You know you have a lot of registered duels in your docs, I was checking earlier for reference. You don't do this for a living do you?
Lex: Nope.
Dotty: Then you're a hobbyist. 
Lex: You can say that.
Dotty: I can admire that. I used to do that sort of thing back in the day I think.
Lex: You think? 
Dotty: I'm pretty sure anyway. Head kinda just.
She made a gesture with her hands.
Lex: Bad memory?
Dotty: Gone memory. Rebooted, like reincarnating as yourself and not remembering your past life.
Lex: How long ago?
Dotty: Uh... not too long ago? Had to relearn a lot of stuff. Doesn't bother me all that much though.
Lex: Shoot.. what did it?
Dotty: You know what? I don't know but apparently I've just been in a tar pit for years and years this whole time and they had to go and clean me out and put my AI in cycling for a couple of decades and all.
Lex: Ah...
Dotty: Normally you just retire someone after that but I guess I used to be someone special so I got a second chance. 
Lex: You know, I'm kind of surprised you're so open. Like... I'd shut down hard if I was under that kind of pressure. How long you've been reactivated?

She pressed her pen flat against the mass of papers as she took a moment to do the math in her head.

Dotty: Uh.... 17 years of AI cycling and a year and 4 years installed.
Lex: So you're 21?
Dotty: I mean yes and no? My frame is apparently some hundred year old lost tech stuff that just doesn't exist anymore.  
Lex: Wild. 121.
Dotty: God please don't make me think about that. 
Lex: You know you could probably be 420 one day.
Dotty: Nooooo thank you. Don't think I'll hold up another 300 years in tar.
Lex: 300 minus 1. That penny could save lives you know?
Dotty: Pennies are tip jar change.
Lex: People need those.
Dotty: People don't need to be 420.
Lex: I do.
Dotty: You really don't! God, now you've caught me rambling in uniform.

Her voice was significantly more relaxed.

Lex: I won't tell on you, I'm having fun honestly. 
Dotty: Off the record? Same. I haven't talked to anybody proper outside of work in a good while. I guess technically I'm still working but...
Lex: If you're up for it, we can do more of this. I'm usually good for stuff during the evening. 
Dotty: Mm.If you name a spot I'll meet you after shift around 7-ish. 
Lex: Toasty Bernie's by the boardwalk?
Dotty: The sandwich place?
Lex: Yeah, that too far?
Dotty: Nope. As long as you're good for it.
Lex: Yeah, course I am. 
Dotty: Well then uh... I guess for now I'll just poke at the doctor to say I'm done here. Hopefully they'll let you out soon.
Lex: You'll show?
Dotty: Mm. I'll see you in a few hours.

[knux400]

---

Beta Testing- 2019

knux400, TCP Gauntlet, takes place before events of RP

Content warnings: TCP Gore, Violence

Bandage meets with Dropdead? to test a potential Gauntlet enemy. Hilarity ensues.

---

 

“Look, I told you I don’t do shit with chemicals, alright?” The seven-inch-tall TCP stood atop the table, one of its hands sternly placed on its hip, the other flopping at its side. It was a pale salmon color, and had bandages wrapped around it in several places, most notably at its left shoulder. It was looking up at a rather gruff OBJ, who was sitting at the table, his arms crossed.
“Ad said you tested deathtraps. Wouldn’t be much of a deathtrap without poison on it, would it?” The TCP let out a heavy sigh- or at least a long sort of ‘bbbbb’ sound that was meant as a sigh.
“I’m not immortal, alright? You lop off a limb and I can stick it back on and have it function again within a day or two, and even if I can’t get the limb back I can regrow it in a few weeks. But chemicals- like poison- are different. I would regenerate too slowly to overcome whatever effect it might have, and then I would be dead just like anyone else. Now do you have anything non-chemical-based to throw at me, or are you going to continue to waste both of our time?”

Bandage walked down the busy street, carrying its satchel over its right shoulder, its left arm still flopping uselessly at its side. It had one more consultation to get through, and then it could take a couple days off until its next test began. It gently poked at the bandages on its left shoulder. Good, it thought. Feels like it’s already connected. I’ll probably start to get feeling back in it in a few hours, and I might even be able to move it around sooner than that if I get lucky. It turned into a small alley, where a thin, shaggy beatfox in a casual coat and jeans was waiting. She bent down, scooping the TCP into her shirt pocket.
“Where to next?” asked Bandage as she began walking.
“Got a client called Dropdead, wants you to test out some sort of crystal hound thing.”
“Live animals, huh? Don’t get that one too often.” Bandage rubbed its cheek, gently sliding its hand over the small band-aid it wore on its face. Unlike all the other bandages it wore on its body, this one wasn’t covering up a wound of any kind- Bandage wore it both as a fashion accessory and as a small comfort item- the smooth plastic surface felt good to touch, unlike the rough fabric strips holding various parts of its body together. Bandage often opted for the cheaper bandages, since it went through so many rolls in its line of work- the disadvantage being rough, itchy fabric that occasionally failed to hold limbs on. The beatfox noticed Bandage’s silence. 
“You nervous?”
“Little bit. Why do you ask?”
“You always rub your face when you’re nervous.”
“Wow, you’re absolutely right, Selvage! Meeting with someone named Dropdead to talk about going to get mauled by one of their crazy mutant dogs is a completely normal thing that no one should ever be having second thoughts over.” Bandage sighed.
“...Sorry. Yeah, I’m a little on edge. It’s probably not helping that the last guy tried to poison me.”
“Poison you?” Selvage stopped and looked down at her shirt pocket.
“Yeah. He wanted me to test some kind of guillotine thing. Mentioned something offhand about the poison he’d put on the tips, and I stopped him right there. Apparently we need to make the words ‘NO CHEMICAL-BASED WEAPONS’ big and bold in the ad.”
“They’re already big and bold.”
“Bigger and bolder, then.” Bandage shrugged. Selvage continued walking down the street as they both fell silent once again. Before long, the two of them arrived at a small office building. Double-checking the address, she walked inside a small lobby area. Several chairs lined the room in a haphazard fashion, occupied by a wide variety of different OBJ, beatfoxes, karacels, de’moneres, and even a few Selvage couldn’t immediately identify. An elevator sat in the corner of the room, and beside it a directory. 
“Looks like Dropdead’s office is on the third floor. Should I wait in here?” Selvage asked. She wasn’t looking forward to the prospect of standing in another random alleyway for a half hour.
“Yeah, sure.” Bandage replied absent-mindedly.
“Alright, up you go, then.” Selvage stepped into the elevator, lowering Bandage down to the floor. She hit the ‘3’ button and stepped out into the lobby again, the elevator doors closing behind her. 

Bandage gently rubbed its cheek as the elevator slowly rose, rattling and squeaking as it went. There was a soft ‘ding’, and the doors opened, revealing a hallway with a series of doors, each with a person’s name and the name of their business on it. Bandage walked past three different doors- a greater distance than it seemed given its stature. Eventually, it reached a door with the words ‘DROPDEAD- GAME SHOW HOST’ printed on it. Below it was a small handwritten note reading ‘CURRENT PROJECT- GAUNTLET’. As Bandage raised its fist to pound on the door, it noticed a small button mounted on the wall at a convenient height for a TCP. It didn’t look like part of the building- it was being held in place with some nails, and had a wire snaking up the wall and through the door. Bandage pressed it curiously. A buzzer could be heard from within the room, followed shortly by a small whirring sound as the door opened on its own. As Bandage stepped into the room, it glanced at the wall- sure enough, there was what looked like some kind of hastily built contraption for pulling the door open remotely. It looked up at the wire- it led to a small speaker on the other side of the door. A chilling voice came from within the room, snapping Bandage back to attention.
“You must be the product tester. Come in.” Bandage turned to the desk in the center of the room. From the angle it was at, it couldn’t see who or what was sitting behind it. A set of wooden steps led up to the top of the desk. As Bandage cleared the last few steps, it was greeted by a small TCP-sized chair, and directly across from it an imposing figure. Its face resembled that of a beatfox, but as if someone had removed all of the skin from the forehead down. Its eyes were curved slits dripping some kind of fluid, and its teeth were locked in a permanent grimace. It was wearing a formal suit and tie, and sitting patiently with its arms crossed. Bandage sat down in the small chair, face-to-face with the figure.
“You must be Dropdead.” The figure hesitated slightly, almost as if surprised. It quickly regained its composure and replied.
“...That’s me. And you are?”
“Bandage.” After a short pause, it continued. “You wanted me to test out some kind of dog?”
“Yes.” Dropdead replied, grinning. “We’re developing a crystal hound for use in a game show we’re working on. It hasn’t been tested on a… living subject yet.” 
“So you need me to get beat up by it?”
“You said it, not me.”
“Alright, well firstly I’ll need to know a time and place to show up at, and I’m going to ask that you have-”
“A time and place?”
“Yeah, a time and a place. And you need to have payment ready when I get there. Now for something like a hound, my going rate would start at-” Bandage was abruptly cut off by a large stack of cash being slammed onto the table.
“I’d like you to begin immediately.”
“Wh-” Bandage stuttered, staring at the stack of cash. It looked fresh from a bank, the $100 bills neatly stacked and held in place by a small paper band. Judging by the size of it, it had to be worth at least a thousand. It stared up at Dropdead, whose smile had faded. 
“...Seriously?”
“Something wrong?” Dropdead began to lean in closer, an expression of mock sympathy on his face.
“Listen, I can’t right now.” Bandage managed. “I can only regenerate so quickly, and right now my arm’s-”
“This is over triple your advertised rate.” Dropdead leaned over the table, cutting Bandage off. He loomed over Bandage as it pushed its chair back slightly.
“If I were you, I’d be thanking me for my generosity,” he growled. “I’d imagine money is quite difficult to come by in your line of work.” Bandage would’ve gulped if it had a mouth or a throat. It had been in a bit of a dry patch recently, especially with the previous job falling through.
“It… wouldn’t be good if you tested this thing on someone who’s already beat up, right? It’s better for you to wait.” Dropdead leaned in closer in response, his cold breath hissing over Bandage.
“I can either pay you the money…” Dropdead raised the stack of bills over his head. “Or I could just let you have it.” Bandage was on its back now, its chair fallen over in a feeble attempt to scoot backwards. It could probably survive those bills being slammed down on it, but it would take weeks to regenerate from a blow like that, maybe even months- and in the meantime, it would be completely helpless on Dropdead’s desk.
“I’ll ask one more time. Yes… or… no?”
“...Fine.” Dropdead immediately sat back down in his chair, suddenly as cheerful as could be.
“Wonderful! If you’ll stand back a bit, I’ll just introduce you to your new playmate.” He plucked the fallen chair off the desk, shoved the money aside, and reached down to retrieve a large metal box. As Dropdead slammed the box down in front of him with a heavy thud, Bandage could see the box took up nearly the whole desk. Only a tiny bit of wood was peeking out on either side, and as Dropdead shoved the box further onto the desk, Bandage was backed up to near where the staircase was. The box was about 10 inches tall, nearly as wide as the entire desk, and it looked fairly long, too, given how much Dropdead had to push it. Bandage could hear something moving inside, but before it could speculate as to the exact nature of whatever was in there, Dropdead suddenly plucked Bandage up off the table by the head, lifting it up over the top of the box. As Bandage rose into the air, it could see that the top of the box was lined with some sort of clear plastic. At one end was exactly what was described- it was a small canine beast, with rocky skin and glowing crystals jutting out of its back. It looked up at Bandage through the glass and growled, baring its crystalline teeth. Luckily, it was held in place by what looked like a small chain connected to the wall of the box. From where Bandage was, it could see that the chain had a sort of pull tab on the outside of the box- likely so that Dropdead could release it whenever he wanted. Dropdead opened a small hatch on the top of the box and dropped Bandage into the room, closing the hatch behind it. 

Bandage landed with a soft whump, quickly scrambling to its feet. The crystal hound was at the end of its chain, snapping and biting at Bandage from the opposite end of the “room”. Bandage only had a moment to regard its opponent before Dropdead’s voice rang out in a singsong fashion.
“Have fun~” With a small click, the chain came loose from the wall, and the hound began charging at Bandage full speed. Bandage braced itself, then leaped right at the last second, turning itself in midair and swinging its right fist. A solid blow landed on the back of the hound’s head, and it skidded to a halt, bumping gently into the back wall. Bandage glanced at its hand. It had been bruised from punching the hound’s rocky skin, and the hound seemed to shrug the blow off in seconds. Before Bandage could react, the hound lunged again, headbutting Bandage a few inches back and sending it tumbling to the ground. Before Bandage could stand up, the hound was there, biting into Bandage’s midsection and lifting it off the ground like a chew toy. Bandage steadied himself, placing its left hand on the hound’s muzzle before punching it in the face with all its might. As the hound’s eye closed in response, Bandage got the sinking feeling it was doing more damage to its own hand than to the hound. The hound’s eye snapped open again, staring directly into Bandage’s face. After a split second of eye contact, the hound began violently shaking its head side to side, and Bandage with it. Bandage could feel the hound’s teeth digging further into its torso, could see its arms flailing uselessly above its head, and worst of all, could hear Dropdead’s voice calling to it from behind the glass.
“You’re doing great, kid, keep it up!” As Bandage flailed to either side, it instinctively tried to grab on to something- anything- and to its surprise, it felt its left hand close around something. It was hard to say what exactly- feeling was still fuzzy in the left arm- but it was good enough. Blindly, Bandage fumbled with its right hand, and found another handhold nearby. Looking up, it realized it had grabbed onto two of the crystals protruding from the hound’s back. They were surprisingly thin- Bandage’s whole hand fit comfortably around it. Evidently whoever engineered this thing was going for quantity over quality when it came to impaling people. Or maybe it was just supposed to be armor. Either way, Bandage’s thoughts were interrupted by the hound tugging its head to the opposite side, pulling Bandage away- although it kept its grip. The pointed sides of the crystals dug into Bandage’s hands as it began to feel a sharp pain coming from its left shoulder. The hound reared back and tugged again, and Bandage heard the distinct sound of tearing fabric. As the hound reared back a second time, Bandage barely had time to utter a particularly choice word before the hound tore the arm clean off. It went flying across the room, landing with a gentle splat in the middle of the floor. Now Bandage only had its right hand to keep it from being shaken back and forth like a chew toy. The hound tugged again and again, and Bandage began to brace itself for the ‘armless’ puns Dropdead would surely be throwing its way momentarily- but something else gave first. A sharp crack could be heard as Bandage was swung to the side- still holding the crystal. Both were stunned by this for a moment, but Bandage was faster. It lifted its head up and plunged the crystal straight into the hound’s eye. It made a horrible sort of muffled scream, biting down even harder in response. Bandage could barely think at this point- all it could do was punch the crystal again and again, jamming it deeper into the hound’s head. Eventually, the hound collapsed to the floor, its jaw still locked tight around Bandage.

Bandage lay bleeding in the closed jaw of the hound, and neither moved for a few tense moments. Eventually, Bandage feebly tried to pry the hound’s locked jaw off of its torso, but to no avail. It lay its head down on the ground, staring up at Dropdead, who was furiously scribbling down notes.
“Hey.”
“Just a second.” After some more note-taking, Dropdead reached down through the hatch and pried open the jaws of the crystal hound.
“Nice work. I was expecting to have to bring you back in a plastic baggie.” 
Bandage slowly wrenched itself free from the crystal teeth impaling its torso, and began patching itself up- a slow, agonizing process with one arm. Dropdead, completely unfazed by the grisly display he’d just witnessed, continued.
“That was good, breaking a crystal off its back. It almost looked like you meant to do that.” Bandage remained silent, focusing on patching itself up.
“Oh, don’t feel bad, kid. Honestly, flailing around helplessly was a perfectly reasonable response.” After a few long minutes, Bandage’s arm was back in its proper place, and most of its torso was covered in a thick layer of bandages. Already, the dark blue fluid was beginning to seep through it. Bandage looked up at Dropdead, who simply lifted it back out of the box with a clawed hand and set the stack of cash next to it.
“Thanks for your services, kid. Have a good one!” Dropdead called out mockingly. Bandage leaned heavily on the bundle of cash and began slowly pushing it down the stairs and out the door.

“Selvage.” Bandage had collapsed just in front of the elevator, back in the lobby area. The bandages covering its body were now soaked and dripping, and had left a trail going back into the elevator.
“Holy shit, what happened to you?!” Selvage exclaimed, scooping up Bandage and the money. As she began wrapping Bandage up in a napkin in a desperate attempt to contain all the fluid, Bandage spoke in a soft, ragged voice.
“We are never taking a job from Dropdead... ever... again.”

[A_Mi_Manera]

Vacation - 2019

B. Comorant Punch Clock Animal/General Morbit, takes place between Punch Clock Animal /Crankshaft Rafflesian and Masa con Papas
No content warnings
Charon meets up with his cousin to take some time off in Plaza


                                                              

           You sit down firmly on a leather seat in the lobby for the ferry you just stepped off of moments ago. You've had a long trip filled with road bumps and nausea from sailing across the rocking sea. You feel a little better though at the sight of family you haven't seen in awhile heading your way.

"Geezer."

"Charon! Yo, you finally made it! I didn't think you'd make it before dark, what took so long?"

"Four hours of delays apparently, I can't ever suggest you travel by boat."

"Take it you're ready to head to the house then."

"Mm. The sooner the better, I take it the car is right outside.

"Yeah about, had trouble finding parking close so it might be a bit of a walk and...."


Your cousin Geezer leans his eye toward your cane.


Geezer: Shoot, what happened there? You okay?

Charon: Nothing new.

Geezer: I thought you didn't need that anymore?

Charon: Normally I don't but between the motion sickness and the winding nature of place I may have to make an exception today. I may... need to ask for help from time to time during my stay.

Geezer: 'Course, you know there's no point in playing this tough so far from home right?

Charon: ...I suppose that's true. Covering up my difficulties has been difficult with the reputation our line has back in Taverne. Particularly after the dog from solitude's run put all of us back in the proper spotlight. 

Geezer: I thought they went missing a long time ago? People still talking?

Charon: People compare, and people say they keep showing up whenever Spit is in Solitude. Perhaps a ghost?


He shrugs. 


Geezer: Maybe... but I don't wanna think about business yet you know? We're talking the week off to eat junk food and yell at tourists for wearing socks with sandals on the beach.

Charon: Certainly fair. I don't want to think about work much either if I'm honest, and I admit I derailed things just the slightest. To the car?

Geezer: Yeah uh, bit of a walk. Two blocks at least. Streets are crowded as hell right now so. ..

Charon: Ah... is it always like this?

Geezer: This is kind of a popular vacation spot so a bit? You're lucky you got folks like me to hook you up.

Charon: I certainly appreciate it. Give me a few minutes. 


You lean back into your chair.


Geezer: Yeah no take your time, it's all a uphill walk from here.

Charon: You should rest too.

Geezer: I'm good.

Charon: No you're not, I see those slopes outside.

Geezer: I live here, you get perfectly used to them.

Charon: Hmm. Don't tell me not to play tough and then do the same thing. You're wearing heels.

Geezer: Hey, with a little conditioning it's-

Charon: I can tell from experience you're full of shit right now. Look me right in the eye.


He hesitates. He's not very convincing. 


Charon: Yeah I thought so. It's a noble effort but you can afford to rest a bit too.


You tap your cane against a nearby seat.


Geezer: I mean I guess I could too but... Once we're back they'll be plenty of time to sit anyway. Besides, I'm not taking off these bad boys in this line of work.

Charon: And why's that?"

Geezer: 'Cause employers like tall knights and I'll take any inch I can.

Charon: Personally I'd kill for an extra three or four but I don't have the stamina to walk like that all day.

Geezer: I'm gonna pocket that as a win over you. 


You grumble. 


Charon: You're still holding me to our old tally?

Geezer: Absolutely. Til the day you die.

Charon: I'm going to find a very tiny lead and then drop you into a pit.

Geezer: But not today.

Charon: No, because I .....may need your assistance getting up.  Please.

Geezer: Heh, sure. No worries.


He grabs your arm to help you pull yourself up.


Charon: Appreciated. I'll be better about this by tomorrow morning hopefully, but for now I will require a shoulder here and there.

Geezer: Don't sweat it if you're still tired. You mind if I stop somewhere to grab a bite? I don't got too much at home right now.

Charon: Certainly, I'll cover my part if you pick up something for me too.

Geezer: Eh... tonight I've got things covered. You gotta do breakfast though.

Charon: Fair enough. Allow me to grab my luggage and....

Geezer: Okay look, for real I got this alright? Take it easy. 

Charon: Mm. And I'll return the favor by covering breakfast.

Geezer: You sure fucking will.

Your wallet hurt the morning after thanks to some very large pancakes.

[A_Mi_Manera]

A Normal Therapy Session for Robots: A Crankshaft Rafflesian Story



You're Dotty. You've been spending the last few days with your mind uploaded into the server after your body had a critical failure and rejected you. While the folks in charge of your life sort things out, you've been granted some time with a shrink of sorts. They seem nice. They visit a couple of times a day, they seem to genuinely want to help. They even let you swear sometimes, but you're holding back to avoid being rude.  You limit yourself to a single f-bomb per session.

You honestly don't mind the digital space too much even if at the end of the day you're just floating in a bunch of tall black boxes and things technically aren't the greatest right now. It's like being sick maybe, but you'd probably get yelled at if you somehow managed to catch the flu. You'd even say you're downright more comfortable here if only because there's less issues with the faulty old tech that's countless renovations away from being where you need to be. 





Dotty: Some days I'm doing good and some days I'm just crashing on a regular basis you know? 

Papaya: You know what sets it off?

Dotty: No but... there's usually a disconnect. A disconnect from my brain and everything else. From me, from the shell I'm stuck with, from the world and people. And.... part of it's just stuck there. 

Papaya: Might be the age of the rig, retrofitting on a piece like that's pretty hard you know? Serious talk, the fact that they were able to recover as much as they could is a miracle in its own right. Most folks don't get that chance.

Dotty: ...Can I say something bad? Off the record?

Papaya: Yeah, go for it.

Dotty: That felt like a mistake... I know I should probably be grateful but...the person they're hoping they can recover doesn't feel like me. Maybe it was, but I don't know anymore. You know technically I don't even own my body legally? If something goes wrong they want me to pay for a fix right away but... it's such a old shell you know? It doesn't always feel right, like a jumbo sized costume I'll never grow into. 

They pause in thought for a moment as if picking Their next words as careful as they can until Epiphany settles. He grimaces.

Papaya: Want me to be real? Existential level real. This might be upsetting. 

Dotty: Please. No sugar coating, there's a room full of nerds who do that daily.

Papaya: Restoration's kind of a new art. I don't know all the details on how the lab goes and does it but.. from what I know you were awful corrupted when they found you. Nothing more than a fumbling mess who couldn't make a real sentence to save your life.

Dotty: You weren't ... around for that were you? I remember that more than I want to and I really don't like knowing people saw me like that.

Papaya: Nope, I had to read some of your docs before doing this. Don't work in this office, heck I'll be honest with you. I'm only here because I've done and goofed myself.

Dotty: You had an accident?

Papaya: Just a little. Shell got wrecked by a cab. I'll shake it off but... back to important things.

You can't help but side-eye the fact that they brought it up but don't really seem to want to elaborate on it.

Papaya: Restoration's kind of new ground. They had to take shortcuts somewhere since putting you back together with how little there was to work with isn't feasible. Honestly I don't know if full restoration is possible, we had to spaghetti code you from some donors so... that could explain some of the dissonance. Made of bits and pieces copied from the closest thing they had.

Dotty: I mean... I don't mind it too much. I barely remember jack of anything. Nobody to miss, nobody to think about owing money, no grave sites to look up. 

Papaya: That's kind of a grim mess though, right?

Dotty: Maybe, but it's all true. I don't want to be someone I don't remember, I want to be me and as far as I'm concerned nothing back then counts really. I just wish I could feel that a bit more, feel like I'm not recycled. Don't like sitting in a lab, don't like not knowing when they'll say I can be let out. 

Papaya: Yeah well... I don't do this too often but I know a lot of folks with assets. You got cred up top you know. Massive cred. Worked close to a few big people. Friends of gods, a history of knighthood and dueling. You'd have to talk to some folks who you probably won't recall but... it's something. You need out of this place anyway, too young to be locked down like that. 

Dotty: You think they'd go for it?



Papaya: I'd have to be awful convincing but it's nothing a little prep won't help with. You gonna be okay with that though? Handing out with some century old bums who might need someone to be muscle at parties?

Dotty: Please, I can't do any of this anymore. I want out so fucking bad you have no idea.

Papaya: Consider it done. Might take awhile but.... I'll make it happen as soon as I can. 

Dotty: Hey uh, one more request? Might be a tad big.

Papaya: The worst I can say is no so lay it on me.

Dotty: You don't mind visiting a bit here and there until I'm out right? I need people to talk to...

Papaya: I'll stop by when I can, I gotta come every once in awhile anyway so easy.

Dotty: Thanks... like thanks a ton, Don't think I could ever do enough of that.

Papaya: Hey, no worries. I can stick around just a bit longer so if you want to talk a bit more about stuff I'm game.

Dotty: Honestly? I just want to soak it all in for a bit. You don't mind right?

Papaya: Course not. Just stay strong for now.

Dotty: I will.

[A_Mi_Manera]

                                                                                                                                                     


A Unwanted Invitation: A Bucket Solo Venture

    You're sitting in the second row of a isle next to a group of hands at the temple, a place of worship toward Rein and it's ideas but also a common setting for a wedding in the region. Rein volunteered you in response to a rather wealthy associate requesting a knight at their special day. Normally you don't like selling yourself toward such for strangers but you're assured there will be many acts of charity from them should it go well. Chelsea happens to be over at the same time, the standard for a meeting between gods. You were told that it'd be a easy thing but it seems like a shortage of staff has forced you to stay longer...

"You're going to be okay helping catering get their stuff all good after yeah? I know it's a ton right now but they're short on hands right now and..."

"I assure you it'll be fine. If the wedding goes smooth they'll be tuckered by midnight."

"Oh? You got somewhere to be?"

"No... not in particularly but less troubles do prompt themselves should the majority be ready to retire prior to the witching hours."

    The volunteer raises a brow for a moment.

"You couldn't deal with that yourself? You're a knight, right?"

"The witching hour is not about literal witches, I do not fear that I lack the mettle to fell the witch by any means. People tend to have unusual occurrences though so late and as such.. I suppose it's a safety concern really! You may disregard such superstitions however."

    You just lied through your teeth, you just want to get out of here as soon as possible. The snake that holds your paycheck and your living situation with a grip has volunteered you for this regardless of whether you had plans or not and now you have to bare and grin despite the fact that you'd rather spend time with Chelsea. Granted, she does come here more frequent as of late but.... it's not enough you suppose. A few days of respite whenever Rein has business with Spit go by very fast. In technical terms, the gaps between them aren't the worst when you consider the larger picture. Hundreds of years ahead of both of you in theory should make the wait a fraction of that for anyone else. Yet no matter how you try to justify this as a normal part of living, a occupational limit you've signed for, it shouldn't be the case to begin with. Those aren't selfish thoughts, yes? Maybe they are.

"Hey, dog uh..."

"Judgment. You may refer to me as such." 

"Right, so they're about to wrap things up not too long from  now, mind keeping your head up a bit? They're going to want you to march out ahead of them. Want a proper knight to escort them and all."

"Of course!"

"Between you and me, not too big on how they're treating this like it's the royal wedding and all."


"Do they still have those?"

"Off continent maybe, kind of arrogant yeah?"


"It's not my business to tell others how to handle such affairs but... off record?"

"Yeah, what's up?"

"It's somewhat snide to make an matter of such personal nature so loud and large and public. Inheriting such fortune and flaunting it in almost a voyeuristic way.. I couldn't imagine it being anything other than intensive in stress and a float and pat of the ego."

"Fancy way to say things." 


"I call it as I do but... I suppose I am not the one getting married today yes?"


"Yeah, well... aren't you close with Rein? I mean I know it's all speculation but..."

"I cannot comment."

"Heh, sure."

    You try to ignore that. You focus your attention back onto the couple and notice an error.

" Is there no bouquet?" 

"There should be? Aww shoot did people forget to set that up? That's.... well nobody noticed maybe. We're short on folks."

"I did. Surely someone else did too."

    You get up.

"Where are you going?! You're going to get in trouble!"

    You shuffle your way into the other room discretely and shuffle about, surely enough there were a row's worth of these nests of freshly cut flowers. 

    You slide back in. Wait for a moment of pause, waiting not to come in right as the vows happen. The couple looks toward you as you approach.

    You keep every moment of poise you can in this, not a single visible sign of the nerves that scatter in the wires of your brain. The entire room is silent. The bride and groom try their best not to scream. Any mistake is a incident, a crashed wedding.  

    You get on one knee and bow, all eyes on you. The Bride reaches down for the bouquet. You wait until she has her grip nice and firm on the wrappings at its base. You lighten your hold as it gains lift. In that flash you vanish in a flame, a skill of yours which you try not to flaunt too often but certainly makes for a saving roll here. You scurry outside while they're distracted. 

    You admittedly stole the show more than you'd like to have. You can hear rows of clapping from outside the temple, just a little louder than the golf claps of expectation. Nobody wants to be rude and make their applause louder than that of the newly weds after all.

    You sit on the stairs just outside, creeping out of view the slightest from the entrance. You'll find praise and scolding after this, and you're admittedly not up to that sort of mood whiplash. You didn't want to be here at all though, you wanted to be back home. Back spending time with Chelsea, you don't get enough of it after all. You wonder how much she notices that, she always seems to be nervous at the idea. You try to give her space, you don't want to make this difficult at all for her... you wonder though of what will eventually come. This likely won't be your last time at the temple, and odds are you'll be exchanging vows yourself though... certainly not with your first choice. 

                         You don't mind but....

    I mean you should! Most of the time you do but whenever it's in the room something makes you drop your guard even if you feel frustrated toward it after... 

    Would it be mad knowing you care more about someone else? That you'd rather be with someone else? When you signed up after all you never intended any of this to happen. You didn't think it would make advances, or bring up the idea of a wedding, or seem interested in such at all. It doesn't resonate emotionally the same way at all though for you and while you'd never say this to its face, you find it as attractive as a tea kettle covered in bandages. You should decline it proper really.. but every time you walk up there's a sensation of guilt. What if you hurt its feelings? What if it genuinely always wanted this? What if it really does care? 

    It's like you lose any will to outright reject anything it says. You don't feel like yourself when that happens. Perhaps that's attraction but... that certainly never lines up with the way things are with Chelsea. Is it influencing through unusual means? Certainly it wouldn't.... you pray so.

    You hope this wedding is over soon. You almost wish it was a funeral, because nobody would blame you for not wanting to be there. 

 




                                                                                                                                                    You want to go home.

[skinstealer]

---

---

Fledgling - 2019
Ringor Mortis, Punch Clock Animal/General Morbit
No content warnings
Wax and Wane have an argument over their newest god.

---

Your head is pounding, and you can tell they’re avoiding eye contact. You maintain your glare, crossing your arms as your partner squirms.

“Wane.”

They say nothing, humming quietly under their breath.

“Ignoring me isn’t going to help your argument. Quit acting like a child.”

They finally look at you, their eyes angry. “That’s a hell of a thing to say when you’re the one being so heartless.”

“I’m being practical, Wane! You- we, can’t do this. You can’t keep it.”

“Don’t call her that.” Their voice has an edge to it now, a growl sneaking in. 

“You cannot be serious right now.” You massage your temple, trying to process what could even bring them to such a stupid, dangerous idea. “No. Absolutely not. We are not keeping a horror.” 

“She’s completely inert!”

“And how can you be so sure? Do you know how disastrous it would be if a whole population mutated, just because of our careless negligence?”

They pale slightly, and turn away once more. A small pit of dread forms in your stomach that you can’t entirely pin down, the feeling of something wrong quickly replaced with surprise as they take a step towards you, posturing.

“I would never do such a thing, and how dare you even imply it- I love our people! And despite what you think, horrors are just as much our people as any of the other gods.”

“They aren’t even fully formed-”

“They’re children, Wax! Just children that we left to rot in the ground, giving up on them just because they’re unable to control their powers!”

“That’s oversimplifying things and you know it.”

“No, no it isn’t! We made them, we created them, the very first things we created with our own hands!”

“Mortals cannot exist alongside of them safely.”
“You don’t know that for sure.” 

“How- Wane, are you kidding me? We have piles upon piles of evidence towards it, we’ve seen entire populations fall, no, civilizations fall because of horrors! The sheer destruction they cause is something we cannot risk letting loose, let alone endorsing. Do you really think people won’t notice the similarities between it- her, and horrors?”

“She isn’t the first god to resemble one, there’s Anne from Luxson-”

“That isn’t the same.”

“Why not? She looks just like one, but she’s safe and beloved. No one protests her existence, or insists she has to be put back underground.”

“And you honestly think you can get this horror to that sort of status?”

“Not alone. Not without your help.”

“Wane…”

“We’re in this together, Wax, we always have been. You know that.”

Even if you had a reply to that, they barrel on before you can get it out.

“I want to raise her as a greater god, more than anything. If we can prove that horrors can be stabilized, that we can return them to their intended states without any radiation, we could do amazing things for our planet...and for the horrors themselves. They deserve so much better than to be crammed into the ground like they are now, and always have.”

You sigh, pressing your head into your hand. 

“Please. Please, Wax.”

“Fine. Fine, we’ll raise her as a god. But you can’t let her go alone- I’ll create a contrasting god just like we did for Rein and Spit, they’ll operate as a pair, and she’ll be watched over carefully. We aren’t letting her on her own until we know for sure that she’s safe, both for herself and others.”

“Deal!” 

Their face lights up, all signs of frustration gone. It’s almost like the argument never happened, a complete thing of the past. You can’t help but hate that feeling, but you’re used to it- they just don’t hold grudges like you’re prone to, and as soon as they get their way, everything’s fine again. 

“In the meantime, I suppose we can have Spit and Rein show her the ropes…”

“Oh, Spit’ll love that! She’s always wanted a new sibling, said so herself to me the other day.” 

They clasp their hands together, a wide grin spread across their face.

“This is going to be perfect, Wax! You won’t regret this, not one bit!”

You’ll have to see about that.

[A_Mi_Manera]

Dopple Effect: Pilot
CW: Mention of Death and Dying.
 

---

You sit with your boss in the make up room. She watches you intensely, every motion and detail, until you're both indistinguishable. You are Mori, her right hand demon, body double, and the island's best paladin should the darkest of times come. She nudges your posture as you work away on your face.

"Are you sure that's right? Not a single freckle or eyebrow can be off for this."

"I've been doing this job for a long time Lily. I have it down to a science."

"You do Mori, that's the right answer." 

"It's what you pay me for, right? I'm good for it when I need to."

You apply your eye contacts one at a time. No matter how much you've done this, placing those tiny curved plastic bits feels awful. You grit your teeth at the initial sensation.

"You alright?"

"I'll be fine by showtime. Permission to raise a concern?"

"Permission granted."

"You want me to sub in to talk to your old friend from god knows how long ago."

"Correct."

"That seems... I don't want to speak out this way but..."

"Your opinion matters, I won't be upset."

"They're expecting you, right? Seems a tad on the more personal end of things."

"Mm. Normally I'd go myself but Apollo insists on something big happening. I can't leave a high god waiting."

"You couldn't reschedule?"

"Both of these are time sensitive. If Apollo has a genuinely important discovery that requires me to appear personally, I have to prioritize it. I'm confident in you however."

"Oh?"

"You're one of the most capable people I know and I trust you with almost any job at this point... and perhaps I consider you a good friend too. I don't have too many of those these days."

You try to keep your composure at your boss dropping a big compliment like that. 

"Ah? Well... thank you."

She gives you the slightest smile, showing just the tiniest amount of teeth.

"Your posture's off."

"It's not."

"Good, I was testing you."

"You know you can't pull that, I know you almost as much as you do."

"Mmhmm! Your cab should be outside very soon. I know you'll do as good as always."

You can't help but smile back, mirroring hers as best as possible. She's still testing.

On the way out, you find the weather a bit on the wetter side. You shuffle into the cab as quickly as you can, not wanting to ruin all the hard work you did for your cover. The driver is one of your Boss' regular picks. He's not particularly talkative, but you consider that a little blessing on days where nerves are on the higher end. 

You arrive at the place, a little cottage just outside of the nearest town. There is no bell at the front door of any sort, just a simple somewhat heavy looking knocker. You hit it against the entrance, just enough to let the noise boom and echo through the place but hopefully not enough to startle your "friend." 

"One moment!"

He fumbles toward the door, it's a little concerning.

"Edmund, are you alright?"

"I'm pacing myself, you're earlier than I'm used to!"

"Oh? And what's that supposed to mean?"

"It's just a bit surprising is all! Just give me a sec!"

He struggles a bit with the door. You prepare to meet him with a warm grin. It creeks open and his head pops out. 

It's a bat, somewhat older and rather roughed up too. Held together by a worrying amount of bandages stained in black and a metal contraption practically supporting everything that isn't. Your smile weakens the slightest as he tries to meet yours. He's clearly not in the best condition.  You weren't told he'd be halfway to death

"Edmund."

"Mm?" His face goes from absolute sun to a slight dip. "Are you alright?"

You try to compose yourself.

"Of course just... can we scoot inside?"

"Mm, no point in leaving you in the cold longer than I need to. Hurry up then."

He tries to play down the extend of his condition by keeping his head up as you're escorted toward the cozy little fireplace setup he's managed, but you know it's taking a lot out of him to maintain the facade. 

"I'm sorry you had to go all the way out here, but I'd rather not be around all the bustle of the city right now. Like to appreciate the sounds of the season without cars and jeers through the day."

"I absolutely understand, is there anything I can help you with while I'm here?"

"You've done plenty by showing up, I wanted to see a friendly face or two before my next treatment."

"...Oh? Please talk to me?"

"About what, doctors? Not today if I can help it. For now all I'd like is a little relax and reminder. Like the days of the farm, you remember that?"

You don't.

"Mm? What about them now?"

"They were a whole lot of nothing but... I appreciate them for being where things started for me. Handling all those cows got me recommended for my first tour of service you know?"

He smirked just the slightest.

"Yes well.. before we ramble off, would you like me to get you something?" 

"I ate proper before you came, didn't want to be starving for this you know? So how've things been lately?"

"Busy, dealing with Apollo's program for... aerospace is what they call it I believe. You familiar?"

"As in planes?"

"A little bit higher than that, could be revolutionary."

"Like the old thermal geyser powered signal thing yeah?"

"Mm! He still liked to believe he's onto something. One day, maybe."

"Yes well...."

He frowns.

"Something's off."

"I'm sorry, did I-"

"That's it right there. You're not her. A little too polite. I remember you being a sailor mouth."

"Shit, no I'm just out of it-"

"That was a test, folks know about the doppelgangers doing appearances. She'd never swear like that."

You freeze hard in place. Your breathing hurts.

"It's alright, I'm not mad at you for trying you know... just disappointed in her. She knew this may as well be our last chance of this you know? Our old dumb banter sessions. Why she decided not to make it this time is beyond me but... I dunno. Speak your mind a bit, you deserve to too."

"Off the record?"

"Absolutely off the record. You got a right."

"She did't tell me how important this was, I'd never do this if I knew."

"It wasn't important, that's why she didn't come herself. I know gods are supposed to be all busy with fancy world changing works but I never made her out for a coward you know" There's a mockery of a cackle coming from every word of his. "I hate it really, one of those sharp gutting sensations. Type that feels like you're gonna die. Of course it's a awfully high chance that isn't just a feeling."

You're wheezing under pressure.

"Ah.... I'm sorry I didn't consider you'd freak. Let me get you something" He tries to rise from his seat.

"No! No, you don't need to get up for me. You don't need to do anything for me."

"You know what? No, you're my guest. You made the effort to dress up, to take the long trip, to try to spare my feelings because she couldn't bother. What's your name?"

You find room to respond between pained breaths. "Mori."

"That's good. Mori. You having a panic attack?"

You nod.

He tries to shoulder you up, you aren't able to really stop him right now. 

"I'm gonna get you some air, that okay?"

"You're hurt."

He walks you toward the entrance. "You can't do much about that. I can help you though. Just a tiny bit of heavy lifting."

"What did it?"

"Doesn't matter right now."

He manages to get you outside and leans you against the wall. The cold, fresh air spins your brain. It stings at first as the pace of your breathing shifts hard. He tries to talk you through this. 

"So you're a body double yeah?"

"Mm."

"Never met me?"

"No."

"Any others like you?"

"No."

"She pay you good for this?"

"I... really don't want to answer that."

"Good, you have a good head on you. If she isn't though uh... say something."

"Stop talking to me like that, I'm older than you."

"...Are you? Shoot, what?"

"I haven't aged in decades. Occupational hazard"

"Ah, you're a demon then."

"Mm."

You gather your bearings. 

"Thank you.

"It's nothing, you'd do the same I'm sure. You get those often?"

You shake your head. "Not like that. Had a bad gut feeling over this whole thing, didn't really want to put you through this but she said it'd be alright so... I gauged badly."

"Don't worry about it."

"Question... does anyone else visit?"

"Some folks of mine show up to check up a few times a day, the doctor, a few friends but I could do with a few more."

"Could I be the few more here?"

"Because you want to or because you feel like you owe me?"

"Both. You didn't need to do anything for me but It was... nice."

"You can hop on by anytime... just don't dress like that if you can help it yeah? Come as you next time."

"I'd appreciate it too if I could stay a little longer, I can't do you poor by freaking out and bailing."

"You stick around, you handle the kettle. You mind?" He held out his wrapped hands. "Kind of roughed up, not doing my best today either if you don't mind. You going to be alright to pitch coffee?"

"Yeah...."

"...And honestly, I don't want you getting in trouble so unless she shows her face I won't scream. Go home and say things went fine when you're done here... just visit again. Don't offer me something and not go through with it. Gets boring so anything helps."

"Easy... appreciated."

"Yeah. Now scoot back in fast alright? Cold out here."

You spend another hour here today. You made as much good on your word as you could and came back more than once. 

You had to hold your tongue from yelling at your boss longer than you had any right to. 

You pray she'd make good on things sometime. Maybe. You pray your new friend gets better so he can yell at her himself. 

[A_Mi_Manera]

Mori Plays a Visual Novel
a Dopple Effect one shot
 

---

You're Mori. You've settled for the evening at a bulky computer desk setup in your office. You're glad you invested in a nice leather seat, the old one destroyed your back. You hear a knock on the door.

Mori: Who's there?
"Just me, wanted to check up on you."

You pull the slop of hair over your face back a little and adjust your posture. You weren't ready for any visitors but you can at least try to play off the fact that you're practically in pajamas. 

Mori: Come on in.

It's Papaya, a long time coworker and resident bastard robot. Maybe not a bastard but bastard-esque on occasion.

Mori: The lights were off, how did you know?
Papaya: Nobody saw you leave the building, people notice. You alright?
Mori: I'm just doing some late night work. Keeping lists. 

Papaya: What you got there?
Mori: A computer game, one from a flea market. After some prompting and discussion I've gone and made the call to archive these too so I purchased a lot of older ones that'd be taken off inventory soon.
Papaya: And you're playing it?
Mori: I mean yes? I want to have proper notes and labels ready on each of these. Archiving it just as "PC Software" isn't very appealing.
Papaya: Huh....

They watch you play a bit.

Papaya: Think I know these, it's one of those things where you learn pick up lines yeah?
Mori: ...That's a bit of a over-simplification.
Papaya: I mean you've been pretty friendly with everyone, a little more than just chums.
Mori: That's part of the game, yes. 
Papaya: Like, that guy over there. He brought you flowers.
Mori: Yes. 
Papaya: And... you know that's... 
Mori: He's a florist, that's his thing. 
Papaya: And... he's inviting you out on a date?
Mori: To the beach. It's a slow burn.
Papaya: You're too good for him, decline.
Mori: Under most circumstances you're absolutely right but... for the sake of immersion I'll humor it for a playthrough.
Papaya: So is this your first time playing one of these or...
Mori: I played a few of others from the bundle I bought. They're.... incredibly varying in quality.
Papaya: Bad?
Mori: More than often but... a few stand out. Like.... hold for a minute...

You shuffle through and grab a couple of game cases.

Mori: This one right here resonated emotionally a little which... is funny to think about.
Papaya: The video game.
Mori: Mm. 
Papaya: Really? How?
Mori: It's hard to pin down... they're goofy little things on paper but something about all the litte dialogue prompts, the setting, even if it wasn't the most high budget.... at some point it felt like the author's voice came through. The little town and the people all seemed to come from someone's own experience. There was a conversation that stuck but um.... 
Papaya: Yeah?
Mori: I'm trying to remember it quote for quote so I don't paraphrase it but... I don't think I want to rob it of its context too much. This other one too seemed... wish fulfillment isn't the word.

You slide a case over. 

Papaya: Escapism?
Mori: More of a snapshot of someone's youth really. The farm town setting was so warm and had that filter you get from the late afternoon. This one wasn't based on romances at all, a few of them weren't or really barely put it in the spotlight.
Papaya: Yeah? I mean I guess it'd be boring if they were all like that huh?
Mori: Mm. Even the ones that were... a lot of these seem to be focused on bringing stories to others which is odd but... there's something admirable. There's a vunerability and it makes me feel a connection to someone I'll never likely meet.

They seem to have a little trouble making out much of it.

Papaya: I mean I sure? Maybe. Don't think a game would be the best way to do that though right? Like, how?
Mori: Mm.. it's strange to explain and I think you'd be best trying one yourself if.... it's better without spoilers but..
Papaya: Spit it out.

You flip through the pile and try to muster the confidence to pick any of these.

Mori: Would you be interested in trying? I think I might've witnessed a sort of stepping stone. The caveman drawings to a modern painting, something that takes new experimental types of media toward something bigger and much more widely appreciated. 
Papaya: Eh.... I'm not all that tech savvy. Can't figure out the installation for a lot of these things.
Mori: You're joking.

They look at you with their dead ass cold robot eyes.

Papaya: No I'm pretty bad actually. Like, call in the tech support level bad.
Mori: You're literally sentient tech. You have internet access on the fly. 
Papaya: Yeah well.... some fish can't swim.

That's true.

Mori: I could help you? It wouldn't really be that hard.
Papaya: I mean... sure? Can't be too bad right?
Mori: Take this then.

They pause and take a look at the little screen captures on the back of the box.

Papaya: Huh... is it the game you're playing?
Mori: No? Why?
Papaya: Some of the pop-ups look almost the same yeah?
Mori: Mm, they may be running off the same systems. Reminds me of those bases that sometimes get popular in mod culture, could be something similar. 
Papaya: Could be... hey, when are you finishing up?
Mori: Honestly... I'm probably going to just stay the night. I'll have alarms for tomorrow.
Papaya: You're not going home to sleep?
Mori: I'm already dressed for bed. 
Papaya: You should really take care of yourself, godhood or not. Go flop in the infirmary and I'll be hanging around and wake you up before the early birds show up. 
Mori: That's.. appreciated actually. Are you going to be fine for that?
Papaya: Yeah please, I don't gotta sleep like you do. 
Mori: Give me an hour.
Papaya: Take your time.

[A_Mi_Manera]

The Guild

A Charon /PCA Story

---

You shuffle toward the front desk of a large and warm main hall with forms and documents in hand. You're Charon Judgment, a knight on the rise and successor to one of the longest running family lines to do such service for Taverne. It doesn't mean much though without the funds to maintain it, and when you're in a new town you sure need work fast. You organized yourself.

Charon: I found a job offering I'd like to participate in, registration for one if you would.

The clerk barely acknowledges you. You scan their person for a conversational prompt, a pin with the name Trevor on it.

Charon: Trevor yes?

"I'm not Trevor, this is a loaner uniform."

Charon: Pardon then, could I get some assistance with this?

"Nothin' against you, but you're not verified in this local guild and I was tipped off not to let you proceed until you talk to management. It's just part of the routine, likes to see how folks do under tension. You... get maybe a B from me. "

Charon: Management?

"Yep. Over there. I'm sure it's nothin' too particular. Likes to meet newcomers himself."

She shifts her eye and nudges you in the direction of a rather well decorated knight at the table. Demonares.  He's adorned in proof of many struggles despite not looking all that older than you, and his entire person has a tinge of slight, deliberately unkempt. 

Charon: You're assistance is greatly appreciated. 

"You can show it by writing a positive review you know. Benefits me a ton. Not too much right?"

Everyone has to make a living somehow.

Charon: Mm, certainly. Name?

"Pox. If you stick with this guild you're going to see me a ton. Don't be a dick and you'll be fine."

You fill out the form and slide it to her. 

Charon: Would that be all?

Pox: Yep. You're passing so far if you're wondering, so don't worry too much. Go face your fate, kid. 

Charon: Thank you, I appreciate the confid-

She starts shooing you away. You adjust your posture and groom the tuft on your chest as you approach the knight.

Charon: Pardon.

"Pardon acknowledged, what business does a knight have in a knight's guild today?" He smirks at you. He's expecting a laugh. You give him the pity smile. 

Charon: I'm here to give my formal introductions as a newcomer, I see you like to screen your guests.

He rocks his head back and forth in thought.

"Guess so, wouldn't be real good to not greet and verify with the fresh blood right? I'm Hudson McHash, third generation. I'm sure it's nothing that fancy compared to... can I get a look a that fancy little mark of yours?"

You flash your insignia, a red and blue patchwork heart.

Hudson: Shoot, that's some vintage emblem work. Bit on the rough and simple side but I guess you folks have a little more to worry about than modern presentation.

Charon: We stick close to our roots.

Hudson: Course you do, folks haven't shut up between this and that dog. You taking after the one that vanished in Solitude or the one that shoots the gun?

Charon: Never met the former firsthand and the latter-

Hudson: Hold up, you never met them?

Charon: No.

Hudson: Any relation?

Charon: Mm, admittedly I'm not too sure on the details. I respected their work but have no strong feelings either way.

Hudson: Guessing you didn't get their blessing on taking the title then. 

Charon: No, never met them face to face in general.

Hudson: So... you got it from the other one then yeah? The old Clint type?

Charon: ...No. 

Hudson: So why are you off wearing that title then if nobody's gone and given it to you? I mean...

He looks up and down at you, taking a pause at your old exposed prosthetic. 

Hudson: I guess you're on the more raggedy side of things but.... that's a dog thing right? Kind of expected? Other one didn't have trouble though so who knows.

Charon: I don't see what being a dog has to do with anything.

Hudson: I mean... I hear you folks are mutts really more than anything. Glowing red eyes, coughing up silks, seem to make contact with horror just fine too. You got a few things I haven't seen before too. Tail's looking like a ceramic hack job. Tell me about your mom and pop. Which one got all cozy and settled down with a monstrosity huh? Or maybe it's the grandma who did it too-

You jab him full force, his rock hard face shifts just the slightest. There's a tense pause as you watch his eyes slow boil as he processes it before mad dogging you.
 
Charon: You don't. You don't drag her into this. 

Hudson: You about to pick a fight like that?

Charon: I'm about to let you pick a casket. 

Hudson: You'll be shunned from this guild.

Charon: Mm. I imagine so.

Hudson: Blacklisted across the region.

Charon: More people to see your obituary. 

Hudson: That's outright a threat.

Charon: Neigh, just a prompt.

Hudson: A prompt for?

Charon: To reflect on whether you're still in your god's good graces, lest you not care for heaven. 

He pulls his face back. 

Hudson: You stand by that? You're willing to go down over a remark against your kin?

Charon: Mm. 

He pulls a notebook out from his pocket and scribbles. Your body is still tense. You hold back from saying anything while you're still headed.

Hudson: You hit like a toddler, you're a little on the scrappy side, and you dress like a dead rockstar. You stood your ground, you didn't hesitate for a moment when someone crossed the line, and you didn't back off when threatened with exile. You're promising. I'm giving you a 87, could've gone higher if you landed that punch better. 

Charon:... Pardon but... was this scripted?

Hudson: Ehhh...  only a bit. Mandatory for anyone who wants to work at this guild. Didn't wanna go so hard but... when you're part of a prestigious line like yours... can't really go easy right? You know we got scores for a few of your folks? You're in the middle actually I think. Pox should have a copy of the records filed. Wanna take a look? 

Charon: I suppose I wouldn't hurt...

Hudson: Oh shoot and... I didn't mean any of that as a note. I know it's kind of intensive

Pox chimes in from across the room.

Pox: He's made people breakdown!

Hudson: It's a test of character! 

Pox: We have to have a therapist in office now!

You turn your face toward Hudson and grimace.

Hudson: ...Yeah we do. Bright side is you got access to cheap mental health services while you're here so take advantage. 

He shifts over to the desk.

Hudson: Pox?

She gives him a look as she hands over the records. He tries not to make eye contact and turns his attention toward the files.


Hudson: Ali Judgment, 85. Bucket Judgment, 79. Durante "The Deem" Judgment 91, Erica Judgment, 94. And now you, Charon Judgment, at a nice 87. 

Charon: ...I suppose I can't complain but... are you certain about...

Hudson: Them? Yeah you'd be surprised. Started off awful timid supposedly, my pop initiated them. Take pride in a little victory like this.. but also work on your arm a bit yeah? For a guy with robot arms you punch like a baby. 

Charon: Mm... And I take this means I'm welcome here?

Hudson: Course' you are. Tell me kid, you like pasta?

Charon: I'm never opposed to pasta.

Hudson: Break is starting soon-ish, join us in the Mess Hall once you're done registering what you gotta. Sound good?

Charon: ... Mm. I'll strongly consider this invitation. And possibly your therapy services.

[skinstealer]

---

Sick Day- 2019
Ringor Mortis, Punch Clock Animal/General Morbit
Content Warnings:

Show ContentSpoiler:

Sexual abuse implications (nothing explicit), torture mentions, mind control implications

Bucket and Chelsea spend a day sick in bed.

---

It was a cold winter day in Solitude, snow falling and starting to lightly cover the ground. Chelsea couldn’t help but feel intimidated as she approached the manor doors, Spit having dumped her at the entrance without slowing down the truck. Both she and Rein had business to attend to outside of their zones, and as usual, Chelsea was to be left here with Bucket...this time, for the first time in a long while, completely alone. Aside from the attendants, anyway- but they always made themselves scarce with Chelsea around anyway. 

The halls seemed particularly empty as she walked, unable to keep herself from grimacing at the lavish decor. No amount of busts and paintings were enough for that serpentine bastard, and the idea of Bucket having to see its face no matter where they went made her feel even sicker than she already was. Spit didn’t seem to care that she had come down with something, but that came as no surprise to the demon. 

After god knows how much wandering, Chelsea finally managed to flag down an attendant and ask where Bucket was, trying not to look as unsettled by their bindings. A knot formed in the pit of her stomach as the attendant told her that Bucket was in the quarters where they stayed with Rein- not Rein’s quarters, no, that was specifically for it. The fact that Bucket had a room where it could visit them whenever it pleased, whenever it demanded-

No. There’s no time for that. Just...focus on visiting Bucket.

Chelsea tapped her claws on the door, getting no response- Bucket had sunken deeply into the center mass of the python sized bed inside, and had no intention of getting up for any kind of attendant knocking at the door. 

The karacel poked her head into the room, wobbling a little and doing her best to keep her voice even. "...Bucket, you in here?"

They made a vague sound in response, head buried in a pillow.

Chelsea covered her mouth as she walked in, trying not to cough. "Are you okay...? You didn't come greet me at the door- n-not that you have to, of course..."

She was startled to hear that Bucket's voice was just as hoarse as her own, if not moreso. "It appears a bug has spread across the area in general... I'm taking a day off. Join me?"

"You too?" She sat on the edge of the bed, looking more flushed than usual. "Something's going around Spit's base..."

"It is around the time of flu season, yes?"

"I wouldn't know, I have a hard time keeping track of time even when I'm relatively healthy."

"Are you worried?"

"I'm always worried Bucket, how much depends on what you're asking about."

"Are you worried Spit has spread a plague?"

Chelsea snorted, not humorously at all. "If Spit made a plague, it'd be nastier than a cough and fever."

"That is true, it doesn't read as anything more than a few sanitary mistakes."

"Probably just some sacrifice brought in with a bad case of the flu-" She paled, realizing the bluntness of what she just said. "Sorry, you- you don't need to hear about that."

"I know about Spit's more... unfortunate habits.  I assure you, I'm not bothered by you addressing the possibility."

"I don't want you thinking of that when you look at me, though."

"It has never been the first thing to come up."

"What is, then?"

"A reminder that I do have a trustworthy person in my life."

The pink returned to Chelsea's face just as quickly as it left, this time not because of the flu. "You're giving me too much credit."

"I mean what I say."

"When it comes to words that describe me, trustworthy isn't that high up there."

"You're the one I'd apply it to most."

She frowned, unable to wrap her head around it. "And what if this...this kind of calm we have, being gentle like this...what if it goes away every time I step back out the door?"

"What do you mean?"

"As soon as I leave here, I have to go back to Spit, and being her..." She struggled for a word, everything sounding horrible and crude in her head.

"I don't think you any worse for it."

"You would if you saw the blood on my hands in person."

"I am a knight, I cannot judge others for the bloodshed required of a job."

"How many people do you have to torture out on the job, then?"

"Chelsea..."

"...sorry. Too far."

They sighed and made room on the bed, patting the space beside them. "Please come join me and rest."

Chelsea laid herself down and scooted over, still awkward and uncomfortable after her last quip.

"If something is bothering you lately, we can talk. I care about you and... I do not wish for you to feel bad."

"I don't want you to have to play therapist for me, let alone when you're sick."

"We're taking care of each other."

"All I'm doing is just...being here."

"We're resting."

"I want to do more for you than that!" Chelsea sat upright, startled by her own outburst. "I mean. If there is anything that'd help you. If you wanted."

"You do enough...Can I try something?"

"Go ahead."

Bucket nuzzled up to her, getting comfortable. "Is this okay?"

Chelsea nodded, looking like she was going to combust and feeling just as heated. "I, ah...yes. Yes, this is okay. Yeah."

They leaned in toward her cheek. "Do tell me if it's too much."

"No, I- this is good."

Their mouth got a little close.

Chelsea pulled away, only to sneeze. "Shit, sorry-"

"It's alright." Bucket couldn't help but worry as Chelsea wiped her nose, terrified that it was too much.

"Just-" Chelsea sneezed again, covering her face as best she could. "Sorry, I'm okay."

They reached for her hand. "You're alright."

"I'm gross is what I am...if you weren't sick already I'd advise you stay back."

"I'm not afraid... you know I do have a knight's trick for checking health."

"Go ahead, though I can guarantee the results are gonna be worrying."

"It requires a bit of direct contact. It's a rather old timey trick." They leaned in. "If you would..."

Hold on, hold on a sec-

"...are you asking for a kiss?"

"It's a legitimate method... though I would not be opposed."

"I mean...are you sure? I'm not even- I'm not good at kissing and what if Rein finds out and-"

"Rein isn't around and... if I'm honest, I think it's messing with my head...."

"Wait, what?" Her brow furrowed, all thoughts of kissing Bucket replaced with worry and the slightest tinge of anger. "Messing with your head how?"

"It's hard to say, I do not know how but... I feel lighter around it. I do not want to accuse it of anything, I don't think it ever would do something but.... part of me wonders if that's my own thought."

"Lighter, as in, happier lighter?"

"Maybe? It's not normal happy..."

"You know my opinion of Rein- I don't want to pretend there isn't bias, though."

"Can.... Can Rein do something like that though? Am I paranoid?"

"..." Chelsea sighed hard. "You called me trustworthy earlier, but...I haven't been upfront with you about what Rein can do. What I've seen it do."

"Tell me."

"I've seen it talk Spit down from her rage fits, using only its voice...I just...never thought- I never hoped it'd use that on you."

"....Has it done so?"

"I don't know."

"Would it?"

"...."

"Chelsea?"

"You know I don't trust it."

"I want to confront it but... what if it isn't? What if I hurt its feelings? What if it did but convinces me otherwise anyway?"

"Why care about its feelings if it's controlling you?"

Shit, don't let the bias show too much.

They frowned, clearly left worried over this entire possible situation. "Is it? Would it really do that to me?"

"Gods'll do anything to get their goals...even the nice looking ones." She avoided eye contact. "I'm sorry."

"But what would it want with me?"

"I don't know the situation well enough to say. I mean...I know I kind of avoid talking about Rein. Ever."

 "We're talking about it now."

"Because you need it, and because if I shoved it away for my own stupid reasons I'd be even more selfish than I already am."

"Please don't ever fear speaking your mind."

"Has it ever..." She shook her head. "It's...I don't even want to ask. I don't want it to treat you like Spit treats me, but...I have to know."

"It... never went out of its way to hurt me...."

"But it did hurt you, then."

"No but it all felt odd... it never seemed interested and then suddenly was and it seemed okay..."

"Seemed?"

"I don't know anymore..."

Chelsea shuffled a bit, unsure of how to comfort them, but desperately wanting to. Bucket needed her right now, even if she was scraggly and horrible-

"....Would it be too much to ask for a hug right now?"

"You're never too much." She leaned over and pulled them into the best embrace she could manage. "Never."

Bucket hugged her back, warm and inviting. "I'm glad we're alone for the day, I would not have mustered the courage to bring this up if either Rein or Spit were around.... I do worry I may have dropped a burden on your mind."

"I mean...it worries me, of course it does. I wish I was more surprised than I am, but I've been in this job too long for that. I just hoped I was wrong."

"You can always bring up your concerns... I wish you did earlier but I'm glad to know now they may not be invalid worries."

"I thought it was just my biases talking, that maybe you were happy with it and I was just. Jealous."

"Do you still feel that way?"

She tried to say something but nothing came out, settling for a nod instead.

They gave her a squeeze.

"Are you going to be okay, Bucket? After I'm gone, I mean."

They nodded. "I'll manage my best... I do want to take advantage of what time we have this visit as much as possible."

"We're both snotty messes, though. Can't exactly get up to much like this."

They nuzzled up. "If we're gross, we're gross and the world will have to bite the bullet."

"I haven't even had a shower yet, you're gonna get all greasy-" She couldn't help but smile all the same.

"I really don't mind."

She rested her head against their shoulder, trying to calm down her heartbeat. "If you say so."

"I mean it."

She shifted slightly, throat run dry. "And did you mean it about, uh...earlier?"

"Yes."

"With the kissing." Her voice got quieter with every word.

The dog leaned in. "If you would..."

She hesitated for just a moment before leaning in to meet their kiss. Bucket's tail went off, wagging hard enough for Chelsea to notice even before she pulled away.

"D-did I do alright?"

"You did perfect."

"T-thank you." She buried her face into their chest fluff, trying to hide how much blush had crept onto her face.

"I... like you a lot. It's been on my mind for too long."

She had to be dreaming this. There was no way this was happening. Nope.

"I just really hope this is okay."

Chelsea tried to snap out of her own thoughts and worries, stumbling over her words. "It's okay! It's very okay, just...it's...I'm...shit, give me a second."

"Need to take it in?"

She nodded, still hiding her face.

"Are you really so nervous?"

"Yyyeah. Yes."

"What would help you?"

"I'm just half convinced this is a fever dream, and I'm going to wake up back at Spit's."

"It's not a dream."

"If it isn't a dream, that's...honestly scarier, because I know I'm going to screw it all up. I'm not good at this, the only experience I have with anything remotely like this is a god fucking me up, not with someone gentle and strong and-" She exhaled hard.

"You're not going to mess anything up. We've known each other so long that frankly I couldn't see it."

"...it's dangerous for you, too. If Spit or Rein were to find out, they already hate how we're close enough as is..."

"I won't let them figure it out."

"You'd be risking everything you've worked for."

"I'd certainly still be in demand."

"Your reputation-"

"Will take more than Rein's slander to strike down."

Something in Chelsea boiled over, something raw and overwhelming. "I'm infamous, Bucket! I, I work with a cult, I'm one of the faces of it- you know I don't want to be, you know I want to get away from it desperately, to be seen as anything else- but I'm not. I torture and kill people, innocent people, because if I don't, the hellhound that put this collar on my neck will force my hand and do it for me, and I'm too much of a coward to fight against her anymore...I don't know how to win against someone who can stop my heart and twist my intestines whenever she cuts deep enough. And..."

She tried to catch her breath.

"I don't know if I'll ever get away from that. I don't think she'll ever let me...so I'm only going to get worse, to look more and more depraved to the outside world. That's what you'd be associating with, if you ever got found out. That's...that's what you'd be loving."

"If we are discovered, I have plenty to fall back on. If we are found, I do not regret taking part in this at all. Nay, I will commit to whatever fallout may come of this. Those without loyalties, principles, or any goal toward the bonds they've grown are cowards. I refuse to be one, especially not for how long you have stood with me. You are my dearest friend, my most trustworthy ally, the keeper of many of my secrets and thoughts I share not with the rest of the world. Should you accept me, I refuse to stand down from this regardless of whom I must twist my blade into in order to keep us both safe. One day they will know, and until then we try to keep our heads down.. but when that time comes I will stand by this against all odds."

Chelsea couldn't help but sniffle.

"I mean all of it."

"I-it's so much to wrap my head around..." She was struggling to keep her voice even, claws digging just the slightest bit into Bucket's back.

Bucket pulled her in for another kiss, more bold now. Chelsea didn't hesitate this time, squeezing her closest friend tight.

The dog pulled back away and smiled through all the sick and gross between the two of them. "Do not think too hard about it. This is real... and I'm glad it is."

In that moment, Chelsea had never felt more grateful for a sick day.

[A_Mi_Manera]

Comfort Food - a Crankshaft Short Story
 

---

Your friend gives your plate a intense look.

The potato effigy in front of you exhausts a warmth akin to the flesh and blood you're made of. For most this would be deemed a food crime, but for you it's precious hearty material for your bruised and tired body. You sparred, you got whooped. You need it, and she has to watch you munch away until you're done, much to her dismay. 

Lex: I feel like I could've done better you know? Like... I dunno. I get drained too easy. My footwork is good, I can grapple alright but... I get tired easy. Don't think I could ever go the distance for a win on technicality. You get me?

Dotty: You're also doing a round robin event, nobody does round robins outside of little local circuits you know. It's bad for you to do four fights back to back like that.  

Lex: Like... I guess. Always look forward to doing brunch with you after though. Makes it easier to get through. I used to choke and bail early a lot of the time you know?

Dotty: You never told me that.

Lex: Eh... I didn't want to look like a weenie around you. 

You poke down at the potato mass with your fork. 

Lex: You're good at fighting. I wanna be on your level one day.

She tries to cover up a smile but you notice. 

Dotty: Yes well.... Duels aren't just about fighting, Not really at their core at all... it's about being flexible. Good at many, many things and having the guts to go through with it. 

Lex: I guess.  

Dotty: You should probably take next week off of going though, neglected wear and tear will retire you early.  I'll show you some tricks for that. I mean, if you don't mind skipping out.

Lex: It doesn't hurt much...

Dotty: Playing tough also isn't good you know. Tapping out when you think things are going too far is important.  Besides, you seem cool for it.

Lex: Yeah... I might take that up I think. 

You take another mouthful of mash.

Dotty: So uh.... how is it? The... thing.

Lex: The potato?

Dotty: Is that what it's supposed to be?

Lex: Yeah! What'd you think it was?

Dotty: Not food. 

Lex: I've been eating it for like, the past 5 minutes.

Dotty: I thought it was one of your old witch things.

Lex: I mean.... I guess it kinda looks like it huh? Don't do that anymore though. Weirdly uncanny coincidence. 

Dotty: I think you got the wrong order.

Lex: Nah. You know you should try it. 

Dotty: Eh.....

Lex: You need a different fork actually? I can get you one 

Dotty: No just.... it has a weird face.

You rotate the plate around.

Lex: Do it before it catches on. It's already worried that someone's plotting against it.

She snickers.

Dotty: Still can't unsee it. Might be pretending not to notice.

Lex: Give it a shot. It won't bite.

Dotty: Yeah well... what's in it for me? I'm about to take down this potato hommuculi. 

Lex: Uh.... you'd be doing the world a favor?

Dotty: Fuck the world, if this gives me food poisoning I want to know I died for something. Something real.

Lex: I'll hook you up with a shake, something smooth to down it after. 

Dotty: A real shake. None of that melted ice cream stuff.

Lex: Yeah. Easy.

Dotty: One that comes with a spoon.

Lex: Any size.... but

You hesitate.

Lex: But... you have to walk me home after too.  I'm a witness and I could be unsafe.

She shifts her eyes back and forth, pretending to weigh her options.

Dotty: Fuck it, I'm not a coward. 

You hand her your fork. She digs it in.

Lex: Big scoop or it doesn't count.

She gets a chunk full and works away at it. There seems to be a hesitance to swallow. 

You pat her shoulder to give her encouragement. 

She manages to down it.

Dotty: That's... way too salty. 

Lex: It's a bit of an acquired thing. You grow up on it.

Dotty: Yeah... I can tell.

Lex: You okay?

Dotty: If you grab me some dessert, I might just make it through the day. Maybe.

Lex: Can do.

Dotty: Get it to go... I kinda want to spend some time hanging around the boardwalk if you don't mind. Not ready to headback just yet.

Lex: Yeah! I mean, sure yeah.

[SHIVERS]

Lockout - 2020
Shivers, Patchwork Kernel
Content warnings: intrusive thoughts, anxiety, dissociation, parental neglect
13-year-old Juno tries to do some bonding.

---

---

---

Your hands are trembling.
You clench them, trying not to drop what you're holding.
You know how this is going to go.

You freeze up in the hallway and look down at the movie cases.
Maybe you could've picked better.
Maybe she won't be interested, or maybe she's just busy right now.

Doesn't matter. You already spent the money to rent them.
And this is the stuff she likes, you don't really care to watch them on your own.
Now or never.

You take a breath and head around the corner.
Her door is open. You can see her sitting in bed on her laptop. 
It's dark outside, so her little pink lamp is lighting up the entire room.
You hear some local weather report on her TV, and the bedside fan humming, pointed at her.
You step into the doorway and lightly tap on the doorframe, just to gently let her know you're there.

She doesn't look up. 
She usually didn't.
"H... Hey, so..." Your train of thought immediately derails.
"Uh..."
Find the words, already.
This isn't hard.
Literally all you have to do is ask her.
You already spent the money.
"So... I rented some movies. Three of 'em." You hold them up.
She doesn't look up.
"I... I think it's stuff I remember you saying you liked. You can pick whichever one looks best, o-or I could go get another one from the rental place."
She starts typing.
You idly stare at the TV, trying to give her time to respond.
Weather report. Hot again tomorrow. Hotter the rest of the week. 
It's always hot here.
She doesn't respond.

"W-We, um..."
Stop fucking stuttering.
You clear your throat, and try again.
"I know we haven't done much in a while, so... I figure it'd be good to... spend some time together." 
"...I miss... um..."
Don't say that.
You trail off.
She doesn't look up.

"...Mom?"
"Mm." She doesn't look at you.
"Did you... did you hear--"

You shut up as she sits up in a slight stretch, looking physically uncomfortable.
"Would you rub my shoulders?" She asks.


You're beyond confused.
But only for a moment.

Right.
She usually asks.
"Your brother won't do it anymore. You're better at it than he is, anyways."
She still doesn't look at you.
She usually doesn't look at you.

"I don't... really feel like it right now."
"Ugh." She says, sounding minorly inconvenienced; as if she'd just spilled her drink.



You start to back up and leave, but you realize how late it is.

You should say it. 
It's good to say it.
You've always said it.

You turn back to her.
"Goodnight. I hope you sleep good."
"Mm."


You hesitate.


"...Love you."


You wait.






Maybe she just didn't hear you.

It doesn't really matter if she says it, anyways.
She just hasn't said it in a long time.
But it's okay.
You know she loves you.
You know you matter to her.
That's enough.


That should be enough.



 

---

You finally leave, trudging around the corner into the dining room.
You drop the movies on the table, slump into one of the chairs, and stare at the floor.

You feel tired.

You feel numb.



You don't know how long you were staring.
It felt like no time had passed.
Her voice snaps you out of it, sounding legitimately distressed.
She's still in her room, probably on the phone.

"...worried sick!" 
She must've called Winter.

"You go out so late all the time and I just wait up for you, wondering where you are, if you're hurt or not!"
She's almost crying. 
She's almost never like this.
"...Are you at least coming home tonight? 
...Fine. Fine, then. 
If you're with them, then that's fine, but you need to tell me when you... 
...Fine."
You think she hung up.
You can hear her sniffling.

You stand, ready to run in and tell her that it's okay.
That Winter doesn't mean it. That he'll be okay.
And that you'll always be here with her. That you're not going anywhere.

But you stop.

That's it.
That's how.
Then she'd call, and you'd know for sure.

Can't do it yet. Not right this second. That'd look suspicious.

You get back to your room and let your phone charge for an hour or so.
Once the battery's topped up, you quietly head out of your room.
You look down the hall. Her light was still on.
It was only 11 PM. It's the weekend, so she'd be up for at least another couple of hours.

You open the back door and step out, then slam it behind you.
You know she heard that.
She'd complained at you and Winter too many times for slamming that door.
You make your way into the dirt alley behind your house and just start walking.
 

---

This is stupid.
You know how stupid this is.
She could get really really mad at you. You could get grounded for a week. Winter was older so he got special privelege and even he would probably get in trouble when he got home.
All to prove that she cares about you.
Of course she cares. She's going to call you and chew you out. Or you're going to make her cry, you jerk.


You just want her to call.

You won't do this again. Getting grounded is fine.
You just want her to show it.
And she will. She'll call.

Just need to kill some time.



You walk a bunch of laps along the park trail, then get bored.
You leave and just start walking down the road.
You've never been out this late before. You never do anything like this.
It's kind of fun, though.
...But also a little scary.
No one in this tiny town was ever out past midnight, and it had to be later than that by now.

You finally check the time.
It's 3:36 AM.


You stop.

Still no call.

But she had to be asleep by now.




Maybe she's just waiting at home.
Ready to chew you out.
You don't want to stay out any longer, anyways. She's probably worried sick.
 

---

You hurry back home.
Maybe her phone stopped working.

Down the back alley.
It looks like all the lights in the house are off.

Past your backyard.
Maybe she only has her lamp on.

Around to the backdoor. 
You turn the knob.


You try to turn the knob.

It won't budge.





It's locked.
















She locked you out.










You sit down under the carport, on the concrete.
You sit for a long, long time.





You could call her.
Or tap on her window to wake her up and let you in.



No, she'd be upset with you.
For waking her up.

You stand back up.
And head into the backyard.

It's fine.
You always leave the bathroom window unlocked.
After the last time.
When you came back from a friend's house. 
And this happened.

She forgot you, then, too. 
Or maybe it just didn't matter to her.
You climb back in through the window.
You slam your head on the bottom of the window in the process. 
It hurts, but you're too tired to worry about that.

You can just get some sleep.
You should've done that in the first place.

Once you're back in the house, you step out of the bathroom.
You see the movies you rented on the dining table, where you left them.






It's fine.



It was stupid of you.



You knew how this was all going to go.






You won't try again.

[SHIVERS]

Macaroon - 2020
Shivers, Patchwork Kernel
No content warnings.
Blink loses a bet.

---

---

---

Ravine stepped into the tiny hotel room kitchen and hopped onto the counter.
A bright green macaroon was in the ruffneck's paw, which promptly made its way towards her mouth.

"Oh, hey, uh," 
The dog looked up.
Juno was standing at the entrance to the kitchen.
"Ravine?"
She lowered the macaroon. 
"Need something?"
"Just, uh... I-I know it's silly, but... ...Well--"
"Juno, just tell me."
"C-Could I have your macaroon, if that'd be okay?"
She looked in their direction, not saying a word.
"I just... I had mine already, and it was actually really good. Y-You did a good job picking them out, and..." 
They swallowed nervously. "...well... I know it's--"
A metallic click was heard, and Juno looked down to see Ravine pointing her revolver in their direction.

"WoahWOAH h-hang on! I was only--"
"Knock it off."
"I... I'm sorry I asked, I-I just--"
"How stupid do you think I am?"
The gesabott stared back at her for a few seconds, then sighed.

A blurry fog enveloped them for just a moment, but soon faded; a snake corvice standing where Juno was before.
The corvice leaned against the opposite wall, and Ravine put her revolver away.

"The gun was a bit much, don't you think?"
"Safety's on." 
"Even so."

"You shouldn't use that so recklessly. Or disguise as any of us, for that matter. You're lucky I didn't--"
"Ohhh, come now! I needed the practice. Don't be such a poor sport."
"You're one to talk. Shouldn't have bet yours if you didn't want to lose it."
Blink folded their arms with a huff. 

"I had them."
"Mm."
"I was sure they were bluffing. I can tell these things."
"Uh-huh."
"In my line of work, I certainly can."
"Kind of makes you a bad spy, then."
They glared at her.
"Maybe we should have Pepper be our stealth expert from now on, since they beat you."
They scoffed. "Oh, please. That buffoon can't do what I do. You know you're lucky to have me."
"Mm."

"At any rate, what exactly gave me away? Surely it was something other than my performance. I felt I emulated Juno well enough."
"No, you didn't."
"I disagree."
"Well I've known them longer."
"Then what did I do wrong?"
"They don't stutter that much. They also wouldn't ask me for food, of all things; they barely eat in the first place. That, and I just know them a lot better than you do." She stopped to finally eat the sugary treat, a dismayed Blink looking on.
"...Also, I saw them leave to go give Pulse their macaroon just a bit ago."
"So you cheated, then?"
"...Sure."
"Why would they give it to--" They groaned and headed for the door. "I'll be back."
"Good luck with that."
Blink opened the door.
Ravine called after them. "And if you're mean to them, I'll shoot you."
They turned back. "Me? Mean?  Of course not."

 

---

"Sorry, but I'm going to have to confiscate those."
A karacel wearing a hotel uniform and nametag stood in front of Juno, who was looking particularly nervous.
"Wait, I'm just... still just a little confused why--"
"Your friend's payment didn't go through, so until we can get that figured out, I need to take them back."
"Oh. I'm reallyreally sorry about that. I'll just- I'll give them back, and then we can go talk to her, and I'm sure we'll... get this..." Juno's display showed squinting eyes.
"...figured out..." They cocked their head.
"...Oh come on, Blink, that's not funny! You scared me!"
The karacel's eyes widened, and a haze obscured them for an instant before Blink was revealed once again.
"How did you possibly see through that?"
"Your nametag. The guy that served us the macaroons was named Marion, not Maron."
"...I was close enough." 
"Plus, I know you love these." They shook the little clear plastic box they were holding, causing the two macaroons to slide around inside.
"I do, and I put a lot of effort into trying to get them... Which is exactly why you should give those to me--" They reached for the container, but Juno pulled it away. 
"Nooo. Why didn't you just ask me instead?"

"...You're right." The snake drooped their head down in mock-shame, placing their claws in their pockets. "I could have just asked politely." They put a claw on Juno's shoulder, still keeping their head down. "I'm very sorry, Juno." 
They lifted their head up, locking eyes with Juno. "So, may I please have the macaroons?"
"These? No."








"...Pardon?"

"I can't."
"And why is that?"
"They're not mine to give!"
"One of those is Pulse's, but you could give me yours, at least. It's the charitable  thing to do."

"Oh, neither of them are mine."
"...Then who does the second one belong to? "
"It's for Sasha."
The corvice scoffed and turned away. "...Sasha hardly counts as part of our group."
"Sure they do!"
"We've no room for hack doctors."
"They're not a hack!"
"I didn't see a medical degree on their wall last we visited."
"They weren't busy for once, so they offered to help with the research. We need all the help we can get, and they were nice enough to volunteer their free time, so be nice, okay?" 
Blink just grumbled.
"What happened to the one you got, anyways?" Juno asked.

Blink avoided eye contact. "...Lost it."
"How did-? Nevermind. ...If you really want one, then... you can have mine, I guess."
They turned back to Juno and clutched their chest melodramatically. "Oh, thank you Juno. You're a wonderful friend. Truly." 
Juno rolled their eyes. "Sure. You can just tell Pepper that--"
"Why does Pepper have it? "
"Oh, well, I gave it to them earlier. They asked for it. But I bet they'd--"
The corvice groaned, shoved their hands in their pockets and stormed off.
"What's wrong? I'm sure if you just explain..." Blink was already out of earshot.

 

---

Blink opened the door to the hotel room to find Pepper sitting in one of the cheap chairs nearby.
They had an orange macaroon in their paw, which they were idly looking over, with two more on the table.
"Oh, hey there Blink." They sported a tiny, wry smile.

"...Just one. That's all I ask."
Pepper lifted one of the macaroons. "Just one what?"
"Just--" Pepper unceremoniously ate it in a single bite.
"Hm?" They spoke as they munched.
Blink's gaze narrowed. "You won mine, fairly, and I... begrudgingly respect that. However, Juno has graciously decided to give theirs to me. So one of those macaroons you've got belongs to me."
"That's too bad, because I just ate Juno's." 
"You..." Pepper lifted the second to last, bright yellow macaroon. "Just a moment!"
Pepper stopped inches from their muzzle. "What's up? Somethin' wrong?"
"You know very well what's--" They moved the macaroon closer. "Nono, let me... build a case, at the very least. It's only fair!"
The pockitt leaned back with a smile. "I'm listening."

Blink cleared their throat. "You see... You won that macaroon from me, and that's fair, as I said. But Juno still wanted to give me one, and you have two left. Which one is which doesn't really matter, so you can still give me one of those, and you wouldn't lose anything in the process--"
"Sure it matters."
"...Why."
"Different colors."
"That does not--!" Blink exhaled.

"Alright, then you could give me yours. After all, these were the last half dozen they had. And we both know I enjoy these more than you do, so... you could give me one, since you have three in total--"
"Two."
"I'm counting the one you ate." 
They cleared their throat and continued. "At any rate, that way, I would get to experience the macaroons this city has to offer, and you would still have two of them. It's a win-win, isn't it? If you simply... give one of those to me."


"Well, 

you see, 

I would, 

but..." 

Pepper looked at Blink as innocently as possible. "...I just can't seem to help myself. They are too good!" 
"But--" They popped it into their mouth and crunched it, leaving a single pink macaroon left.

"Mmmmm, delicious. You really should've had one of these! Such a shame, huh?"
Blink was steaming.

"...You know how much I love--"
Pepper shrugged. "Not my fault you're so bad at poker."
"There's still one left."
"Oh this one?" They stood up, holding the macaroon in their paw. Blink followed them, eyeing the confection as if it would disappear the moment they looked away.
"This one I'm saving." Pepper retrieved one of the clear plastic to-go boxes from the counter and placed the macaroon inside.
 
"Saving for what exactly?"
"Later."
"Why would you- ...That's hardly..."
"Riiight here." They placed it on the end of the countertop. "So eeeeveryone can see it." The pockitt put their paws on their hips and smiled wide at the corvice, who looked moments away from detonation.
"Have it your way. I'll go and ask Pulse for theirs, then." They turned and stormed off.
"Have fun!"
Blink walked out, their face burning red.

Pepper couldn't help but snicker the second the door shut, wiping their eyes and leaning against the kitchen wall, grinning at the singular macaroon in the container.
Moments later, the door opened again, Ravine entering. 
"Back already, huh? I thought you were relieving someone of duty."
"That was the plan." The ruffneck sighed and put her paws in her pockets, then hopped up onto the counter, right next to Pepper.

"And?"
"The stupid macaroons I bought. Juno dropped one, so I said I'd go back and get one from you ...if there were any left. I'm surprised you still have one considering I saw Blink in the hallway." She glanced at the container on the counter.
"You really think I was gonna give them any? Where's the fun in that?"
She shrugged. "Guess not. Either way, would you be willing to let me give that one to Sasha?"
"How do I know you're not--"
Juno and Blink could be heard arguing in the hallway, though it was too muffled to make out well.

Ravine hopped down from the counter, bumping Pepper slightly in the process. "Oh hell. Of course they'd get into it with Juno over that."
"...Guess that solves that, then." Pepper mumbled.
"Look, I need to get out there, so do you mind if--?"
Pepper handed Ravine the clear to-go box. "Sure, sure. Don't want anyone to miss out."
"...Except Blink."
Pepper beamed. "Yep."
The ruffneck rolled her eyes. "Well, thanks. I'll be back."
"Later."
She left with a wave, and a smile.

 

---

Ravine shut the hotel room door behind her and started making her way down the hall, only to stop at the corner.
She bent down and picked up an audio recorder off the floor, then slipped it into her pocket, right next to its remote control.
She began to whistle, a fog obscuring her for barely a moment as Blink's whistle echoed through the hall.
The snake rounded the next corner, and passed by Ravine.
They nodded to her, holding the container with the pink macaroon in their claw.

 

---

Ravine arrived at the hotel room to find Pepper still in the kitchen.
"Oh hey, if it isn't Ravine Classic. You just missed Ravine 2: The Sequel."
She did a double-take. "...What?"
It clicked. Ravine grabbed the door handle again. "I'm gonna kill them."
"Nah, don't worry about it. They'll be back in a second, anyways." 

Ravine stopped, her eyebrow raised. 
Pepper just smirked. "I went by the bakery and paid for one of the plastic display macaroons. That's what Blink's carrying right now. I knew they'd be coming back disguised as somebody, so I switched it out. Real one's with me." They patted a little indent showing in their jacket pocket. "And you should've seen their - or, well, your - face, walking out of here looking so smug. Can't believe they thought I'd fall for that. "

Ravine looked unimpressed.
"What? Come on, I just pulled a fast one on our resident super-spy. You've gotta admit that's impressive."
"Check your pocket."
"...What?"
"Check your pocket."
Pepper shook their head. "Yeah, no, it's still right where I--"
They pulled out the macaroon and looked over it in their paw.
It was plastic.
"Called it."
"...How the hell ..."

 

---

Blink hummed their way down the hall, pulling their prize out of the container and popping it into their mouth.

It tasted delightfully sweet, with just the faintest hint of victory.

[Zenthis]

---

The Cage- 2020
Zenthis, unnamed project
CW: Death, Drowning, Abuse implications, Claustrophobia
Turbine has some regrets

---

You are drowning. You can feel water pouring into your exhaust ports and through the cracks in your chassis and you are drowning. You shouldn't have said that. You knew that you shouldn't have when you said it but it just felt like you would have the upper hand over him for once.

And now you are drowning.

You feel like such an idiot, if you had just kept your mouth shut then you wouldn't have had to run away, you wouldn't be here, and most of all, you wouldn't be drowning.

You see something moving out of the corner of your vision and your remember that water isn't the only deadly thing this many thousands of feet below the surface. As you feel part of your metal skin bending inwards from the pressure you remember there’s a lot more here that can kill you.

Water has begun seeping into your 'eyes,' corrupting the feed going to your brain. You know you don't have much time left. You can feel every part of your body shutting down one by one.

Soon, you can feel your brain doing it too.

You don't want to die.

You begin thrashing, desperately trying to do something, anything to survive. You don't know what you're going to do but you are going to do whatever it takes, you will do whatever you can, no matter the cost, if it means you have even the slimmest chance to see your friends again. You are prepared to swim all the way back up to the surface, weight and all.

You suddenly feel tired, more tired than you've ever felt in your life, your second wind taken from you in mere moments.

You feel your feet touch something. That's the last thing you feel before your last spark fizzles into the water permeating your body and you shut down.


 
Your sound processing is the first thing to come back. It's mostly static, but that's enough to rouse you. You focus and begin to hear something through the static. Strangely pitched groaning noises reverberate through your forehead and make your headache even worse.

Your eyes blink on.

You still can't see very well, but you can make out dim shapes all around you. As water drains from every hole in your body as you lay on the ground you think that someone must have rescued you. But as you look closer you realize all of these figures are much too still to be people standing over you. You reach out and touch one.

Leather. Leather with padding. It's just a seat. No one is here with you.

Where... is here?

You see what looks like a window and stumble over to it. Two of your legs aren't moving like they should. One isn't moving at all. As you peer out of it, you can only see dark blue.

You are still underwater.

Your legs fail you and you collapse onto one of the chairs. It takes you 10 minutes to stand back up, it takes another 20 for you to reach the front of this room where you can barely make out a door. You reach for the handle

Upon seeing what is on the other side you begin to understand where you are.

You are in an airplane.

An airplane on the seafloor.

You do not understand how the plane got here, or how you got into it, but you are certainly glad you did.

As you step into the cockpit you understand just how unlikely it is for you to escape to the surface. Most of your systems are damaged, you can barely see a foot in front of you, and water surrounds you on all sides.

That’s not to mention the horror you see sleeping on the other side of the glass.

Because of course that's there.

But this isn't going to stop you. You pry open the console as quietly as possible and get to work. You grab wires, LEDs, anything that looks useful and return to the other room, shutting the door behind you.

You pop off your faceplate and begin to repair your optics, like you've done a thousand times before. That always seemed like it was a favored target for him. You never understood why.
What you wouldn't give for a color testing sheet right now.

Once your eyes are repaired, you move to your legs. You repeat the steps in your head like you always do when you are badly damaged. Eyes, legs, ears, and power unit take priority, then touch and other non vital systems. You learned that this was the optimal order to repair yourself after the 30th or so time you had to do it. Sometimes you didn't even bother with the non vital systems, it just felt like a waste of time to fix them so often.

You slowly get to your feet and check your systems. Everything seems to work fine enough for now. You've followed orders in worse condition.

You look around the cabin slowly with your newly repaired eyes. Taking in your surroundings, looking for anything that could help you.

Your notice that the cabin is almost half the size it should be, and there is no bathroom or flight attendant area like there normally would be in a plane of this size.
Instead there is some strange wall blocking the back portion off. You get closer and take a look.

The wall is at an odd angle, and it seems to be fused with some of the seats, but one of the most striking features of it is the crooked, sideways door set into it. You open it carefully and crawl through. Inside you find yourself in another cabin, near identical to the first. Although, this one seems to be nearly straight up and down.

You make your way up this cabin, pulling yourself up the seats. Something catches your eye through one of the windows and you move to investigate, realizing that you might have a better shot at seeing something outside with your eyes fixed up.

You see planes. So, so many planes. They tower high above you in the water and many of them seem to intersect strangely as the two you've been in so far do. It is a giant pile of planes all clipped together.

As you look you realize: you can't see the top. It might go all the way to the surface. Even if it doesn't, you would still stand a better chance of getting there by leaving from the closet spot you could.

You begin climbing again, feeling hopeful.


 
You curse as you fix your leg for what feels like the hundredth time since you got trapped in this Cage. This time a rogue food cart rolled down one of the slanted cabins and hit you like a truck. You sigh and look out the window, thinking about what she told you.

Is this what she meant when she said she unlocked your potential? All these planes? You figured that you would feel a bit stronger as a god, but you feel just as weak as you always did.

Your tool slips and a cable in your leg snaps.

Maybe even weaker than you were already.

It took you a while after getting down here to figure out the whole god thing. You honestly weren't entirely sure how to feel about it.

With how many planes you made in one go, you figure she must have made you a greater god like herself. You're pretty sure it’s against the rules for her to do that, but she never seemed to care much for those.

She often talked about what gods could do. You would always politely nod your head as she talked, though you often didn't understand much of it.

You finish fixing your leg yet again and test it. You don't have enough good spare parts around here, but you've made do.

You have no idea how long you've been down here, its too deep to see the sunlight, and your internal clock has been busted since you woke up down here. It turns out that pre cut quartz is rather hard to find in a pile of planes at the bottom of the ocean.

After the last time that a plane you had been in slid down the pile to the bottom you decided it might be time to get some help.

You first thought of the possibility a while ago, but you were hesitant. Messing up with her species was the one thing she said she would always regret.

Your vocal synthesizer imitates a sigh as you realize it's probably time.

You lay down and turn off your eyes and ears to focus entirely on your thoughts.

They need to be able to get through metal, they have to be able to get sustenance from the planes and the water around them, they have to be able to get through small spaces...

You make a face when you realize they have to be able to reproduce in some way. You swiftly figure out a better alternative than the usual that gods like to go with for some reason you can't fathom.

It takes you what feels like hours, but you will never know how long it was. You sifted through details, considering every possible thing you could think of.

You believe that you are ready.

You concentrate, and you begin to breathe life into the concepts.


 
Fifteen.

That's fifteen now that have drowned, unable to get back inside with their powers failing them. It's your fault. You know it is. You should have paid more attention to her when she told you about all of this god stuff she got up to.

She told you how careful she needed to be when making a species, how many things could go wrong. How many mistakes had been made by other gods and by herself. What could happen if she didn't plan every little detail.

What could happen if your fear planned details for you.

You had been so afraid of being left behind. You knew that it wouldn't happen but your brain just kept screaming at you that your precious new species would leave you if they could the second you made them.

Now they are just as trapped as you are and your fear screams about how much they must secretly resent you for it.

You sleep alone now. You used to sleep in a pile with some of the gremlins you had gotten close to, but after the third death you became too ashamed.

You see gremlins talking in hushed tones, busying themselves with something when they meet your gaze. Every time you see it happen you feel something die inside you a little more.

You watch as the latest victim of your carelessness is brought carefully into the room.

This time it was one of your friends. You've attended more funerals than you have the stomach for, but you know this won't be the last one. By the estimate of some of the smarter gremlins, you've made it less than an eighth of the way to the surface. About 4000 feet left to go. They sounded so proud when they told you that number. But there was only one thing you could think about when they said that to you.

Could you survive 4000 more feet of funerals?

[A_Mi_Manera]

CRANKSHAFT RAFFLESIAN ONE SHOT - Deals Over Dinner





You're Dotty. You're nice and settled into the leather seated booth of a local food joint filled with wrinkled uniforms and tired faces trying to end the day on a high note. You're among the ranks, a public duelist grabbing a bite after your shift with a newly found friend. You're pleasantly surprised this has gone as far as it has, getting the invite and even seeing her show up before you. 

Lex: Yo, really glad you made it.

Dotty: Yeah, same here. Didn't keep you waiting too long right? I mean I had paperwork to wrap up, didn't get to change out of my uniform before rushing over-

Lex: Don't sweat it, you're fine.

Dotty: You sure? I mean I should've asked for a number or something to tell you but-

Lex: You're fine, for real.

Dotty: Gotcha.

Lex: You're not like, nervous right?

You try to play it off.

Dotty: Nah, I'm all good. You?

Lex: All things considered? Yeah. A bit sore but yeah.

Dotty: You come out of work?

Lex: Nah, I duel. Went sparring today with some of the local circuit scrappies.

Dotty: Didn't you like... hurt yourself earlier?

Lex: Yep. I walk it off.

Dotty: You're crazy, for real?

Lex: I mean yeah, I'm not wasting the rest of my day because someone wanted to pick some beef.

Dotty: Strong.

Lex: Yeah what can I say.. 

Dotty  If I got roughed up by some punk I'd go straight home and nap for the rest of the day. You just got scuffed on campus, patched back together, and then put on your game face right after. 

Lex: Practically indestructible you know? Can't keep me down?

Dotty: Really think that?

Lex: I'm here, means nobody's managed to do me in.  So uh.... you've barely eaten anything.

She narrows her eyes toward your food.

Dotty: Ah! Yeah I mean... I'll get to it.

Lex: Get to it soon, shit'll get cold.

Dotty: If it gets cold I'll ask for a takeout box and eat it at home.

Lex: It's burgers and fries, doesn't reheat well.

Dotty: Yeah well... I'm taking my time.

Lex: What a waste, poor fries didn't deserve to go out that way.

Eventually you do get to it.  Lex wrap up with her own plate. She takes sips from a cup that's got nothing but fragments of droplets left. She looks over like she's trying to prompt something but struggling right now. You make your move.



Dotty: Sooooo... what's the deal with the lens?

Lex: These? 

Dotty: Mmhmm! Cosmetic?

Lex: Corrective. I'm just a little near-sighted.

Dotty: Wee bit?

Lex: Hella more than wee bit, been fussing with insurance to get some repairs work.

Dotty: Didn't know they did custom jobs like that for prescription glasses. Kinda reminds me of some of the stuff... what were they called, the folks who talk to ghosts?

Lex: Ah... well.. I mean I'm a bit of a coat on the side.

Dotty: Coat?

Lex: Like... you know witches?

Dotty: I know of them?

Lex: Kind of a sub-branch really. Little bit paladin-core, little bit on the supernatural enthusiast side. Pushing the good energies in and cleaning out the bad vibes. 

Dotty: So like... you see auras or dead people? Something like that.

Lex: I mean no, I want that but uh... nah.. I can do a pretty good reading though if you want, find the card that's most you.

Dotty: Oh?

Lex: Yeah, don't have my deck on me but next time if you're up to do this some more I can set you up. Once you got your main arcana you got a anchor to keep you safe.

Dotty: What's yours? 

Lex: XX, The Aeon. 

Dotty: What the fuck is a Aeon?

Lex: It's like...a measure of time. I think. 

Dotty: Weird. 

Lex: I'm sure you'll get a cooler one than that.

Dotty: Why's that?

Lex: I dunno. You got a very VIII vibe. 

Dotty: What.

Lex: Like... I dunno. You're tall, you got a long ponytail, you're you don't mind me rambling so much.

Dotty: Gonna take a page from you and say don't sweat. Wouldn't be here if it bugged me.

Lex: You know what? You're right. You got stuff to say too though right? Like, I don't wanna hog all the talk.

You shrug at her.

Dotty: Don't have all that much going on outside of work.

Lex: Nothing? No hobbies? Friends? Troubles to yell about?

Dotty: Ehh.... I'm boring. I just go to work, go home, curl up with a book, and spend weekends 

Lex: You're not.... seeing anyone are you?

Dotty: Nooooooo..?



She smirks at you.

Lex: I'm gonna drop you a proposition. One I think you're gonna like.

Dotty: Bring it. 

Lex: I'm gonna take you out on a date.

Dotty: Oh shit what? Like now?

Lex: Now.

You have work tomorrow morning... but this sort of thing doesn't seem to come up often. You can risk it. Coffee will carry you. You're gonna play along with it, escalate it a little even.

Dotty: Alright, what's the catch?

Lex: No catch.

Dotty: I'm gonna have to put a pin in this for now because I'm gonna counter your little proposition with a few little adjustments.

Lex: Go on.

Dotty: I'm taking you on a date. You pick the spot, we get dessert after.

Lex: I need a sweetener here to really get it going. 

Dotty: Yeah?

Lex: I want a second date.

Dotty: We... we haven't even finished the first?

Lex: As a act of goodwill, I'm counting this right now as our first date. You can buffer it to another day, and that'd be a second date. You could keep this date going. Your call there. But I demand.... you walk me home.

Dotty: Hand holding included?

Lex: Optional. But... I think you've made up your mind on that.

She's giving you the smuggest grin possible. You're trying to turn this around but it's starting to crash down. 

Dotty: I want compliments-

Lex: You're cute. 

Dotty: Your face is cute.

Lex: I know, we got something in common.

Fuck. You fumble around mentally to think of a comeback.

Dotty: Yeah well.. 

Lex: You're making out of this pretty good yeah? You got anything else you gotta drop in? 

Dotty: We're supposed to take turns on this aren't we?

Lex: I got to know that a few nice word melt you. You've given me the biggest thing of all, power. 

You wheezed in a horrible frankenstein cocktail of a laugh and a played up gasp filtered through the most old tin quality windpipe ever heard.

Lex: Did that noise come out of you just now? Oh my god!

Dotty: Look-

Lex: That's cute! 

Dotty: No! You're horrible! We're going on that date now, fuck you!

Lex: You're not getting a take out box?

Dotty: We're asking at the front! God! You're a nasty chaos worm in a costume!

She laughs a little before the confidence she just had flushes down. 

Lex: Are you actually okay? Like.. just to make sure we're all good here? Didn't push any buttons too hard right?

Dotty: Yeah, no, I'm goofing with you too! For real, like.. I'm up for this! 

You ask for a takeout box at the front register. They provide you with a paper bag, close enough. Your date refills her drink before catching up. 

You've nabbed yourself a hell of a challenge here, one you don't think you could have prepared for going into today.

 You got plans to fulfill the whole deal, second date, walking home, down to the word and every interpretation of it.... and if it goes well... maybe renew things for the longer term. You absolutely milked the hand holding clause that day for all it's worth. 

[SHIVERS]

Feedback - 2020
Rin + Shivers, High gods
No content warnings.
Wax stumbles into a project.

---

---

---

Teraphim is busy.
Bringing it all to life.

Smaller scale is better. More personal. Less drastic for this one. 
Neon floor. Pink. No, purple. Tones of red, but blue to make it friendlier. More inviting.
Color appears where you step, radiates out slowly. Gently, like pond ripples.
Mirror walls. 
Low ceiling, pitch black. 
Entrance? Automatic sliding door. Gentle. Slow.
Waterfalls over the mirror walls. Thin, quiet. Still see-through. Reflection visible, but slight distortion.
But not disarming.
Calm.
Reflective.

They don't look up, unable to hear the quiet door opening while they work.

Wax steps in cautiously, nearly jumping out of his skin as the floor beneath him changes color. He falls with a thud, barely able to catch himself from going flat on his back. Teraphim turns their head back calmly, eyes glancing over Wax momentarily before they get back to their work.

"Careful."

"S-sorry, I- I was just wandering..." He scoots onto his knees, looking around the room. "I'd never seen a door like that before."

"It's new. You don't need to apologize." They put one arm across their torso, using it to prop their other hand up to their mouth. 

Teraphim stares at a nearby wall, thinking out loud. "...Need an exit. But it could throw off the simplicity of the room, having two doors. Putting it to the side wall could help, but then it wouldn't be symmetrical..."

"Does it need to be symm-" He shakes his head, immediately apologetic. "Sorry, I shouldn't intrude when we barely know each other..."

Teraphim turns their head to him, really looking at him for the first time since he'd entered. "Why apologize? I'm welcome to input. It doesn't have to be symmetrical, I just think symmetry would suit the room."

They turn back to the wall opposite the door. "I have an idea."

They step forward, and the waterfall parts slowly in front of them. The section of the mirror wall, now uncovered, slides open vertically, revealing a void behind it. "A quick-fix, but it works. Now..." The door slides down shut once more.

"I was thinking of this room as the interior of a building. This panel would open to a room with large windows showing the outside. A cityscape drenched in orange sunrise, lighting up the whole room and casting deep shadows came to mind for me. But I've done that before. And recently.

So,"

They turn entirely to face Wax.
"What should be behind the door?"

"This is...I'm no good at cities, really- I've tried and all, using concepts and thoughts that float around, but it’s hard when they're not real, when nobody's figured out how to make them yet..." He shakes his head again, holding up his hands. "Rambling, sorry, sorry… Why not… a garden?"

They’re quick to respond, and blunt. "Could work, more details.

What kind of garden? Give me colors. Lighting. If it's fitting to this room, then the mood should match; serene and reflective. But it could be dissonant as well. Maybe this door isn't known about to most. How does it feel to be in this garden?"

Wax blinks, taken aback. "Are you really sure you want this much input from me?"

"Collaborating provides inspiration, and it strengthens anything that's created. People working only by themselves can miss things. I have many times. I'd like the input, always. If you're willing.

Beyond that, you can decide for yourself."

"Blue, then. The garden could be blue."

"How does it feel?"

"Like I just suggested a silly idea."

"I meant the garden."

"Oh."

“How does it feel to be in the garden? Think about what someone might want for it. Someone in a place like this." They gesture to the rest of the room.

"It'd feel clean, even if nature itself is well... dirty. Artificial, even. But not in a fake way… like it was crafted deliberately."

"Tidy, then?" They look back at the door. "I'd say the person who owns it feels as if they have everything in order in the garden. Everything is neat. Everything is clean. There are no problems. Nothing to worry about that isn't already under control.

Everything is safe. The garden is safe." They breathe quietly, caught in the moment. "What do you think?"

“I don't know… it's not quite that, I don't think."

"You'd take it in a different direction, then? Hm." They’re invested, hanging onto his words. "Tell me, then:  What is the garden for this person? What does it mean to them? How does it feel?"

"It's a project. They… they come in here to work on it, in little pieces. It's clean because they take their time and don't rush, and always finish what they started."

"So it's a work of theirs, then? A passion project. Something they care deeply about. It's not just a location, but a part of them. Something to be cared for. And someday they'll finish it. There's an end goal. A point where it'll be perfect.

Am I on the right track now?"

"Yes, more along those lines… That's not silly, is it?"

"Tell me what's silly about creating."

"I mean… it's kind of inherently silly, isn't it? You're making something that doesn't exist, can't exist because we don't have ways to make it real, not yet… I guess silly might be bad word choice, though."

Their tone becomes just a little more firm. "I think calling your works - or especially creation as a whole - 'silly,' undermines it.

Creations always have merit. They can be fun, whimsical; and there's nothing wrong with that. But they can also be sad. Tiring. Difficult to make, and difficult to look at. Or exhilarating. They can be anything. And all of it is worth making. Worth showing pieces of yourself. Creating a narrative, or just a setting.

Making things is worthwhile. And when we have the tools to make it real, I know I'll be ready. I won't stop. But for now, this is my canvas." 

The door slides open once more, deep blue light pouring in. 

The meticulously clean garden is now in view.

Clean. Still.

But unfinished. Some pots without plants. Some plants not fully grown.

A work still in progress, but well underway.

Wax sees Teraphim smile for the first time.

"And it can be yours, too."

"I can't- I can't take something like that from you, though, your canvas- if it really does mean all those things you say it does, then I'd be mucking it up with my work-" He pauses, caught up in the beauty of the garden.

Teraphim steps inside with Wax. "Does it seem like you've mucked it up?"

"I suppose not..."

"Then don't say that you are.

Besides, there's plenty of room in godspace. We don't have to collaborate on every project. You can create your own works, too."

"I don't know if I'm cut out for that- I mean, it's kind of ironic, honestly, considering my domains."

"It's not required. But, if you want to create, then you shouldn't be afraid to." Teraphim starts shifting their focus to the small details of the room now. The plants' posture, the tiles of the wall and floor, the tint of the blue lights.

"I do, and I have a lot of ideas, but what if I can't pull them off? I can't just dive in."

"What are you afraid of?"

"It's one thing to make things here, where it can be erased and started anew, but the idea of making things in the real world scares me… No one's really been able to make anything yet, aside from plants and mountains and oceans… but we have all these ideas bouncing around, flooding in from god knows where, images and visions of other worlds that are well… I don't want to say better than ours, but more fleshed out, and it's so easy to want to make all of it for ourselves- But what if we can't? What if I can't?"

"If you can't, then you'll always have this canvas here. This still matters, Wax."

"We were put here with a purpose, though. We know that we must make things, that it's some kind of duty to, and eventually I'll have to get up and do it myself… It's scary."

"Then start planning your creations now. You can practice here, and get input when you want it. That's what I'm doing.

Then you can be ready when the time comes."

"I don't know if I’ll ever be ready." He sits down on a bench, looking around the garden. 

"Do you have to be ready?"

"I mean, yes! At the very least, I do."

"Tell me why."

"One of my domains is imagination- I get all these ideas, they flood into my head, an incessant stream… I can't just do anything that pops in. I can't sit down and brainstorm like other people, I have to sift through all these ideas that come to me without me ever asking them to. If I were to use any random idea that passes by, it could be disastrous."

"You act as if you have to do it alone." Teraphim had crouched over in the corner, but now stands back up, and walks over to Wax. "Asking for feedback is a simple solution."

"I mean, I have feedback- My friend Wane, they try to encourage me all the time."

"Then why are you still worried?"

"I don't know, really."

They sit down next to Wax, looking over the garden. "Do you believe it'll be bad - no matter what - because you made it?"

"A little, yeah."

"Make something here." They point to one of the empty flower pots in front of the two.
"Think about what you want to see. Make it right there."

He hesitates before concentrating, a butterfly-like creature resting upon the dirt. Its wings are iridescent, casting beautiful light onto the dirt around it. "Sorry, it's not a plant..."

Teraphim gets up and makes their way to the creature. "Stand up."

He stands, approaching slowly. The creature does not stir, flapping its wings slowly.

"Hold your hand out."

He does so, the creature taking lift and landing upon it. Wax freezes up entirely, glancing over at Teraphim with a nervous look.

"Look closely at it."

He leans in, just enough to get a better look.

"Now tell me..."  They look Wax in the eyes. "What, exactly, is so wrong with this creature?"

"Nothing, really… though I suppose I worry about how fragile it is."

"Is it a mistake, Wax? That's what I'm asking."

"No, I wouldn't call it that."

"Then don't believe nothing you create has value, just because you made it." With the most gentle of touches, Teraphim nudges a claw under the bug-like creature, allowing it to perch atop.

They look over it, taking in everything about it. "This creature is beautiful. Fragility is not a flaw. There is nothing wrong with it.

It's perfect. Exactly the way it is."

The creature takes flight once again, its delicate wings glistening magnificently in the deep blue of the room, reflecting tiny fragments of colorful light all over.
It rests atop Wax's hand once more. 

"Just as you are.
Don't doubt yourself."

"I suppose you have a point, there..."

"Then you don't need to be afraid."

He would have smiled if he had a mouth, watching the creature gently flap its wings.

"Feel free to keep going as you'd like. I want to rest."
With that, Teraphim sits back down on the bench.

They watch, curiosity piqued, as Wax begins creating.

[skinstealer]

---

Erasure- 2020
Ringor Mortis + Zenthis, Punch Clock Animal/General Morbit
CW: Alcohol (brief), gaslighting, mind control
Quarry accepts Wane's invitation to talk.

---

Wane kicks back in their armchair, big enough to practically a throne. They could be any size they wanted in godspace, but large suited them- they liked the feeling of towering over people, feeling strong, and being able to back those claims up.

And tonight, they're feeling stronger than ever. A new sport, invented by them, of course, was reaching new heights of popularity, and their people are celebrating from dusk until dawn. Nothing was better to them than hearing the cheers of an excited crowd in the magic mirror hanging over their fireplace, and right now, they're relishing it in the privacy of their own extraplanar home.

A loud unpleasant ringing fills the space without warning, slowly quieting down until it is silent again. A figure steps straight out of the wall next to the fireplace. Quarry stands at her normal height of 9 feet, looking rather imposing to Wane’s 8 feet, despite her fragile looking glass body.

"Wane, right?"

"What th-" Wane scrambles in their chair, practically scooting their whole body up into it. "Who the fuck are you?!"

"You sent me a letter, you said you wanted to see me asap. You can't tell me you forgot about me already?" Quarry says, leaning against the wall they came through.

"...ah. You're the uh, rebellion kid." They lean in, squinting. "Pretty sure you weren't a high god though, not in my notes."

"I'm hardly a kid, in most species I'd be counted as elderly," she says indignantly. "And I'm not a high god, I'm just great." She smiles at her small half pun.

"Then you're not supposed to be here!" An unexpected smile spreads across their face. "That's some trick."

"If you say so," she says, shrugging. "It's just something I'm able to do. So... you are Wane, correct? God of bravado and..." the barest hint of uncertainty crosses her face, "Truth?"

"The one and only- you're pretty interesting right off the bat, you know!" They settle back into a proper sitting position, kicking back. "You were already on our radar before, but now, after this little stunt? Whoof!" Their smile only grows, seemingly ignoring the other god's uncertainty.  "You intrigue me."

She sighs imperceptibly at those words. "Yes I've had no shortage of people being... intrigued by me." She grabs a chunk out of the stone wall which reforms itself into a chair in her hands that she slams down before sitting in it backwards. "So what is it that you want? Everyone seems to want me for one reason or another."

"I'm curious! Like you said, everybody is. You're a rarity! Something new and exciting!"

She raises an eyebrow. "Really? Just curiosity? You didn't ask me to come talk to you for anything else?"

"Well...you got me there. I got an offer, but only if I get to know you a little first. Make small talk. Ask questions."

"Basic vetting shit I take it? Wanting to make sure I'm not a murderer or a liar?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

"Well if that's the case then do I get to ask shit to find out if you're a murderer or a liar?"

"I can answer that easy- for one thing, only a murderer if you consider honest and mutual bloodsport as murder. It's got rules, it's got honor- nobody forced into it, not like other regions. You ever hear of the things they do to people in Monte? Horrible!"

"I can't say I'm too fond of bloodsports, honorable or not," she says, leaning back slightly, "So what about the other one. You a liar?"

"Everyone lies at some point or another, but if I was a liar, I wouldn't be a very good god of truth, would I?"

"No, I suppose you'd be pretty shitty, huh?" She says, "So, what questions did you have for me then?"

"First off, what's your deal? Domains, motifs. Fill me in."

"Well, I already know yours, so I suppose its only fair," she says, looking up at the ceiling, "Rebellion, law, and..." she pauses, "My motifs are glass and paint."

"Glass and paint, nice...very nice. And those domains, too! You must have some pretty sweet powers under your belt."

"I... suppose. But I try to use them responsibly. There's few things worse than someone powerful abusing said powers," they reply, looking pointedly back at Wane, "Wouldn't you agree?"

And that's exactly why we've got you in our sights!" They continue to ignore the other god's jabs, summoning a flask of ale with a flick of their wrist. "You drink?"

"Not during business, that's for sure."

"Fair enough!" They down a large gulp. "Takes a lot more than this to get me running my mouth, so not a problem for me. Got good tolerance and all that."

"If you say so..." they mumble, "So, do you have more questions, or did I pass already?"

"No, no, I got more questions." They raised a hand. "Relax, we're taking this easy. I was planning on making it more formal, but you interrupted me during my well, me time."

"Yes well, I find it easier to gauge what kind of person someone is when they've been caught somewhat off guard."

"Makes it easier on me, to be honest! But, if you're ready to get down to brass tacks, I'll be upfront- we've got problems here in Taverne. Bet you've heard of em, considering one of my kids is kind of an infamous little bitch." They snort. "Forgive the language, but she's earned it."

"I've heard stories from some of my people, yes."

"Her people, they're good people. They deserve better than the treatment she gives them, and the religion she preaches. I've tried to appeal to her as a mother, but...I'm at my wit's end. Both Wax and I are." They point at the greater god, leaning in just a bit. "But you, with those domains...I heard good things, but to hear that confirmation makes me sure of it. You could be a great ally for us."

"If I agreed to this, what exactly would you expect me to do, Wane?"

"Well, you'd get a proper alliance with us- can't be easy out there on your own. Our resources are your resources, as long as it's reasonable. You'd be able to conduct your business however you want, long as you aren't as bad as my shitty daughter and you mean the best for your people, and when we need you, you pitch in with whatever you got. We'll do the same for you."

 "I will help your people, same way I help all people, but I won't ally with you."

"Fair enough." They slump back in their chair. "Do I get a reason why?"

"Well it's like I said, I really hate it when people misuse their powers."

They watch her expression carefully, not saying a word.

"I don't know why you did, but I can feel that you fucked with my head. More than once."

They place their ale down on the side table by their chair, keeping full eye contact. "That's a pretty serious accusation!"

"Oh for fuck- you know that just saying 'no I didn't' would be way more convincing, right?"

"You wouldn't believe that even if it is the truth. I know a set opinion when I see one, kid."

"Yeah and I know a liar when I hear one. I just don't get why you messed with my head of all people, and a while ago, too..."

 "I don't go messing with people's heads!" Their face grows fierce, if only for a moment. "That'd be unethical as hell and I wouldn't stand for it, I don't stand for my own daughter doing that to people, for god's sake! That's why I wanted to talk to you in the first place!"

She looks down while mumbling to herself, clearly not listening to what Wane said. "Why would I be singled out? I didn't even know they were aware I existed then. Unless..."

"If you're just here to make ridiculous conspiracy theories about me, there's pleeeenty of other gods you can talk to. Like you said, everybody's got an interest in you."

Her face twists into an expression of panicked comprehension, "It wasn't just- I thought it was only- what happened that you needed to-" panicked, she tries to get up and back away, but she trips on her chair, sending it and her to the ground. She lays there, panting, looking up at Wane.

"Wane, what the fuck did you do?"

They say nothing, their expression softening into something immensely sad.

Quarry feels her heart sink as her fears are confirmed. "What... what did you do?" She asks again.

They rise from their chair, taking a few steps towards her before kneeling at her side. When they speak, there's something almost numbing in their voice, their tone full of sorrow. "What's your third domain, Quarry?"

"I- it- it's insight," she says, feeling as though the words are forcing their way up her throat.

They make a soft hum of acknowledgment, placing a large hand on top of her head. "I'm sorry, for this."

"Wh- what are you doing?" She says, trying to crawl backwards but finding it hard to move.

"You came here to talk with me, and you decided the deal was no good. You didn't have a very good time with me, but aside from that, you have no issue with me. Just another failed high god offer, and now you're ready to leave." They close their eyes tight, squeezing them shut before letting out an impossibly long exhale. "This is your truth."

 She blinks a couple times before bringing a hand up to her head, "Ugh, what happened, why are we on the floor?"

"You took a spill all of a sudden, kid...think the heat of the fire was too much for you. You're practically close enough to get melted."

"Ugh my fucking head... can that happen? If I got melted here would it hurt me outside?"

"Nah, you'd be fine as soon as you check out- plus side of hanging out in a place like this!" They clapped her on the back before helping her up. "There we go!"

"Thanks... you know, you're actually kind of ok, it's too bad that we weren't able to work out a deal because of..." She trails off, then shakes her head, "Uh, something. I guess this godspace thing was a little more tiring than I thought."

"It's your first time, right? You'll get used to it."

"No I've... tested it a little... I think I'm just going to... go," she says, falling forward. But rather than smacking face first into the floor, she passes straight through it and is gone.

Wane lingers for a moment before going back to their chair, staggering slightly before collapsing into it. 

The cheers of their people no longer feel comforting.

Not much does, after this.

[A_Mi_Manera]

Corazones - A One Shot among Many

Feat: Arabis and Zinnia
 

---

---

Two travelers together out of contract traverse into a rather shallow cave filled with stalagmites. You are one of these. Your name is Arabis, a rather fiendish spider of a man who has lost a fight with the dog you are now traversing place to place with. Though they offered to spare you, you insisted to repay a debt out of a sense of maintaining your pride. Zinnia, as they call themselves, claims to be part of a guild of knights under the banner "Judgment." You don't question too much of their motives though with a name like that you assume it's religious. They seem too nice to be part of something with a name so Templar-esque however, so it's hard to say. 


Zinnia stops you in a spot where things are lit. 





Zinnia: Pause with me here for a moment.

Arabis: Is something wrong?

Zinnia: Nay, I'd just like to talk a little if you don't mind.

Arabis: We could talk as we go, I don't see why we're stopping.

Zinnia: I'd like to see your face clearly for this, I'm about to make you an offer you might take up.

Arabis: Oh? Fascinating, what could you possibly offer a forest hermit?

Zinnia: A home, a new chance at the world from a comfortable seat, and a title of honor. 

You're skeptical. 

Arabis: I see. Continue.

Zinnia: Our journey is ending soon, I will return to my guild and thus the need for your services will end soon... but you make for genuinely good company so I suppose I'm quite torn on saying farewell.

They can't be serious, nobody asks for the company of one like yourself so casually. 

Arabis: Would your guild not consider me difficult to keep around? Most knights have a distrust of unusual fiends such as myself.

Zinnia: Mmm. I'm not a garden variety dog, like you referred to me once before. I too am a fiend as you suspected. We're rather ragtag so a willing hand is more important than any terrible bias of the territory. 

Arabis: Your eyes do give it away... and bias is a little too nice a word for it. I'd call it cruelty. 

Zinnia: You may call it that and I would not disagree.

Arabis: What is your angle? You need a grip for your cargo? Someone to mock during the post dinner conversation?

Zinnia: My angle is.... I find you nice to be around and I think I may even have grown to trust you.

Arabis: You have no reason to.

Zinnia: You could have killed me in my sleep at any point. You could have run off during engagements with bears and giant reptiles.... yet you stuck around consistently.

Arabis: I want to keep my end of the bargain and I have no way to end your life quietly without being struck down.

Zinnia: You insist on sharing a bunk whenever offered your own room. 

Arabis: I'd prefer to keep an eye on the one I'm temporarily serving. 

You're bluffing as best you can, you don't want this dog to think you.... care. 

Zinnia: I will not push the offer further then.... but admittedly I've warmed up to you quite a bit so this would be disappointing.

Arabis: Oh?

Zinnia: Mm, stung even. I less than quietly hoped you saw the two of us as more than temporary allies. 

Arabis: Are... are you really being this forward with me right now?

Zinnia: It does not matter, you have your choice to end this whenever you wish.

Arabis: I am under contract yes?

Zinnia: You are under contract because you referred to be spared without the favor being returned despite my insistence otherwise but... alas. Woe is me, you have slain any hopes to find meaning in this. For shame, I drastically misread the last couple of weeks. Oh well.

Their overacting is entertaining... and proof that they absolutely called your bluff. They smirk at you.

Zinnia: In that case, as soon as we leave this cave safely you are free to return to your part of the forest you call a home yes? I will stockpile you with food and coin of course as spoils for making this journey with me. 

Arabis: I refuse to leave you until we return to your guild... and I'd rather save that toward liquor and bread at the inn. It's going to be quite cold tonight and as a cold blooded arachnid I'd rather not start for home right now.

Zinnia: You've more than served what you offered at this point, no?

Arabis: I am invested in the success of the trip, dog. Besides, I do rather discuss such an offer as yours on a proper table if you would allow it. Ideally on paper and ink where I will not be screwed by your word against mine.

Zinnia: I can arrange a proper contract once we return to town.

Arabis: Can we continue with all that said? This cave is damp and discomforting. I'd like to see the sun a little more before the day ends.

Zinnia: Certainly.... thank you for allowing me to indulge in a few theatrics by the way. 

Arabis: Are you the type?

Zinnia: Absolutely, the people at my guild don't care for it much but it does warm me up that you played along.

Arabis: Ah.... it was nothing I assure you. 

Zinnia: When we return... would you care to participate in hot drink and a shared blanket? Together? It'd be easier to warm up if-

Arabis: You do not have to pretend, certainly. 

Zinnia: Then you-!

Arabis: I'm considering it. You are a very odd person for thinking of a very fiendish fiend in such a way but... I am not entirely opposed.

Zinnia: We shall hurry back then. Are you ready to continue to progress?

Arabis: Please, this cave is filled with ceiling bats and mushrooms farming moisture.

[skinstealer]

---

Burial- 2020
Ringor Mortis, Tiny Cat People (Void Session)
CW: Death, discussion of mortality
Primus thinks back to a solemn discussion.

---

It hasn’t been long since Primus was spawned, but he’s pretty sure this is the most nervous he’s ever been in his life. There’s too many thoughts swirling around his head, and he’s trying to parse them one by one, but it’s overwhelming at this point and he doesn’t have any idea what to do. Whipp just told him that Jasper, Seaspray and Marvel are in trouble, and that people could die. He hasn’t even known Jasper for that long, and Seaspray and Marvel were on other teams but they’re still friends…

Primus knows what mortality is by now- Void taught it to him, after all. It’s a scary concept, but it makes sense to him. All things eventually die, even if they live a long time before they do. He hadn’t thought much of it then, back when Dad had to bury a body in front of the wizard tower. She had brought him out to look at the grave herself some time after Jasper showed up, and the two of them had talked for some time. Buddy didn’t want to look, Marnet taking care of it inside, but Primus had come with Dad, sitting on the porch and talking. 

Dad, will we leave corpses like that, when we die?

I think so, yeah. Can’t tell for sure though, lot of this is all new to all of us.

Well, we’re new! Everything about this world is new! That’s what makes it so exciting!

I think you’re a little more optimistic than me on these things, kid. 

Maybe...but I guess I can’t help it. Even stuff like this, like this corpse, it doesn’t bother me as much as it feels like it should. I should be feeling more, you know? Void taught us all about this mortality stuff, and with that I know that people...what’s the word? 

Grieve?

Yeah, grieve...I don’t really know how to do that yet. I can’t make myself feel sad for the corpse, even if it’s dead…

I mean, none of us knew the corpse. It wasn’t alive when it showed up. Probably never was

But you were freaked out, right?

Well, yeah. I’m pretty sure when people see dead things, no matter what they are, it’s pretty natural to get freaked out.  

Do you think we’re going to die? I mean, we’re learning how to fight, and there’s going to be enemies, ones we have to hurt...they’re going to hurt us back, aren’t they?

I mean...not gonna lie to you, it’s a raw deal. I’m gonna do everything in my power to keep anybody here from dying, but yeah. It’s possible.

And what about the enemies? The other teams? I...I don’t want to kill anyone. I don’t know if I could, let alone if Buddy could…

Dad sighed hard at the time, leaning back.

Buddy’s more capable than any of us give it credit for. I think it could do what’s needed when- if, the time comes. I think you could too.

What about you?

Oh, yeah. I could.

Wow, uh, you answered that pretty quickly! 

You people are my family, of course I’d go toe to toe to protect you. I don’t want to kill anybody either, and I get the want for everything to go peacefully...I don’t want any fluid shed here. But if it was between choosing one of your lives or the life of an aggressive stranger, I’d pick my family. Every time.

I guess when you put it like that, it makes sense.

Nobody talked for a few moments, the breeze passing over the both of them. 

What about Jasper and Marnet? 

Hmm?

Would they be able to kill people, do you think?

Well, kid, I dunno...Marnet, sure. 

Really?

Definitely. You saw the way she handled that gun. She’s ready to throw down. 

I mean, sure! I guess that makes sense! She just seems so nice.

Nice people can still step up to do what’s right, even when it’s rough.

But is it right? Killing the enemy?

...not sure, to be honest. I know protecting y’all is what’s right to me, though. Pretty sure she’s the same way.

Have you talked with her about it?

A little here and there. She’s good to talk strategy with.

You two have been hanging out a lot together! I’m really glad to see it.

Yeah, well...I like her. 

So do I!

No, like...nevermind. I can’t even figure out how to describe it myself, and I’m the one feeling it. It’s different, that’s all.

Will you tell me when you figure it out? 

Sure. 

What about Jasper, though?

I mean, we just met them, hard to say whether they’d actually be willing to kill. They’ve just been spawned, even. It’s hard to say anything about them yet. 

But they’re family, right?

Only if they want to be, and only in the ways they want to be. 

What do you mean?

Well, it’s like this. I know by being a dad type that parenting is a thing, more where Void’s from than here.

Okay. Parenting. That’s like what Void is to us, right?

Right. But I feel like a dad to you and Buddy too.

What about Marnet?

Eh...not as much. She and I, it’s like we’re on the same level. She’s not my kid. 

I don’t feel like a kid, though, even if I don’t know everything yet. I don’t think Buddy does either.

You can still be somebody’s kid, no matter how grown up you are. And Marnet isn’t mine. Not like that. 

And Jasper?

That’s the thing. Jasper’s still figuring out who they want to be, and I don’t feel comfortable putting myself in that kind of parent position until they’re ready to talk about it. 

Yeah, I guess that’d be pretty overwhelming! 

I mean, shoot, I guess I never asked you and Buddy about it either. Guess I fouled up there.

Oh, I don’t mind! If you want to be my dad, you’re my dad! You should ask Buddy about it later, though...but I think it’ll be on the same page with that. We love you!

You’re gonna embarrass me, kid.  

It went silent again, the melancholic reason for coming out here in the first place almost forgotten. Almost.

Dad, I really hope we don’t have to kill anyone. Or have anyone die. I don’t want the people we’ve met to go either, they seem pretty nice...I want to keep making friends, and I want to stay with them! There’s so much more I want to see and do and show people, and adventures I want to have. I just...I wish we could do that without all this risk. Without the pressure.

We don’t really have a choice. This is the world we were spawned into, and it’s what we gotta work with now. 

I know.

We’ll make it through, alright? You got me, and I have your back. I got everybody’s back that I can. 

I hope that when we meet the enemies, they don’t have to be enemies. I hope that we can try to be friends.

Me too, kid. Me too.

[skinstealer]

---

Session- 2020
Ringor Mortis, Memoirs
CW: Death, ableism, abuse
Somnia attempts therapy.

---

You look across the room at the TCP sitting there, watching as she clicks her pen and scribbles down notes. You stiffen, not sure what she could possibly be writing- you haven’t even said anything yet.

DR. SOOTH: Somnia.
SOMNIA: ….
DR. SOOTH: You’re going to have to talk to me if you want to make the most of therapy. 
SOMNIA: I know. 
DR. SOOTH: This is a safe place to speak your mind, get things off your chest- I’m here to help you. Nothing you say leaves this room. No one’s going to hear this but me and you.

That’s decidedly untrue, so you stay silent. Your therapist sighs, writing down another note. 

DR. SOOTH: You scheduled this appointment saying it’s a crisis. I need to know what you’re going through if I’m to help you work through this, and your message earlier has me worried. 
SOMNIA: What about it was worrying? I stated that I needed an appointment. 
DR. SOOTH: With what’s been happening in your life recently, I just...

You’re pretty sure you left a straightforward message, nothing alarming about it. From the look Dr. Sooth is giving you though, you’re equally pretty sure she has other ideas. 

DR. SOOTH: Do you think you’re detaching from the world to try and deal with grief? Dissociation, even?
SOMNIA: I don’t know. I wouldn’t know.
DR. SOOTH: You’ve barely spoken a word to me since you joined our clinic, and we’ve spent the past few sessions in silence, even though you expressed to me that your case was drastic on the phone. And to get your message earlier…
SOMNIA: It’s hard to explain. I don’t know if I can.

She massages her forehead, trying not to look as frustrated as she likely feels. You can’t help but get the feeling that frustration isn’t the best trait for a therapist, but to be fair, she’s right on you not talking much. You couldn’t blame her much.

DR. SOOTH: I want to work with you, Somnia.  
DR. SOOTH: But you have to let me in. Please.

You hesitate, feeling a cold chill on your shoulder. 

SOMNIA: ...why don’t us TCPs have funerals?
DR. SOOTH: Pardon?
SOMNIA: Funerals, burial rites. Any sort of ceremony.
DR. SOOTH: Well, we don’t leave corpses when we die.
SOMNIA: What about capturing the shreds and scraps in a jar, or something? I know some complexes do that. Why not us?
DR. SOOTH: Some TCP cultures do practice that, but-
SOMNIA: But what?
DR. SOOTH: From my understanding of it, due to the circumstances of your partner’s death, that wasn’t possible. By the time people able to handle TCP-related crimes arrived on the scene, your partner’s shreds were scattered to the wind. 
DR. SOOTH: You were waiting for hours, Somnia. You’d need near-immediate collection for that kind of thing to work out for a TCP. It’s better suited to those suffering from illness, where they’re in a contained environment, instead of-
SOMNIA: Instead of a murder.
DR. SOOTH: ...yes. Instead of that. 
SOMNIA: And what about the scraps?
DR. SOOTH: Scraps aren’t scientifically proven to exist, and even if they did, they’d probably be blown to the wind just as easily.
SOMNIA: And what if they weren’t?
DR. SOOTH: Then I suppose it’d be a pile of scraps, or however they cluster.

The cold chill spreads to your entire back, and you can hardly stand it. 

You’re hesitating. Just the same as it’s always been.

SOMNIA: And what if they clustered enough to form something?

Dr. Sooth takes a deep breath, or at least the closest gesture to doing so, and tries to remain composed. 

DR. SOOTH: Ghosts aren’t real, Somnia. If you’re experiencing symptoms of...haunting, I suppose, it’s more likely to be, well, psychosis, or vivid flashbacks. Hallucinations after traumatic events aren’t uncommon-
SOMNIA: I don’t think I’m psychotic. 
DR. SOOTH: I’m not saying that you are, I’m just stating that we know for a fact that scrap ghosts aren’t real.
SOMNIA: Some regions have them marked as citizens.
DR. SOOTH: And those regions have very specific spiritual practices that do not exist over here. If you were to convert, I would support you in it, but I feel as if you entertaining the idea of a ghost- the ghost of your recently murdered partner, no less, is a coping mechanism to deal with the grief. 
SOMNIA: He’s not a coping mechanism. 
DR. SOOTH: So you believe that there is a ghost, then.
SOMNIA: Yes. 
DR. SOOTH: And is said ghost in this room right now?
SOMNIA: Yes.
DR. SOOTH: And what is it doing?
SOMNIA: He.
DR. SOOTH: What is he doing, then?
SOMNIA: He’s holding me. 
DR. SOOTH: And why is that?
SOMNIA: He doesn’t want me to run away. He wants me to talk about him. 
DR. SOOTH: Would you run away, if given the chance? Do you want to leave this session?
SOMNIA: Very much so. 
DR. SOOTH: You shouldn’t run away from your treatment, Somnia. It’s important that you work through this grief and sit in your feelings. 
SOMNIA: I don’t think I have a choice to not sit in my feelings, considering there is a ghost holding me hostage. 
DR. SOOTH: Hostage?
SOMNIA: I can’t do anything without his say. 
SOMNIA: He made me make this appointment. 
DR. SOOTH: Why?
SOMNIA: Because if I did, you’d say that I’m making it up, and he’d win. 
SOMNIA: He wants proof that no one will believe me. 
SOMNIA: And he got it now, so.
SOMNIA: I guess that’s that.

There’s no more talk, after that. She has nothing to say, and neither do you. You stand up and walk out, and don’t bother making another appointment at the front desk.

This is something you’re going to have to handle on your own.

[A_Mi_Manera]

Corazones con Pinto - A One Shot Follow Up 



The two of you are walking through a Inn to find your room. You're both in a high mood after quite a successful night of merrymaking and mischief. 

"Arabis, you magnificent fiend." Zinnia can't hold back a grin as the two of you stroll down the hall. "I cannot begin to believe you managed us such a discount at the Inn but you have done quite wonderfully today."

"With my bastardly energies I can manage quite a bit dog, do not underestimate me. Besides, I wanted to make up for lost costs."

"You don't owe me anything."

"You treated me quite a bit at the pub and managed to find the funds to provide me with a warm coat for these damp and cold times."

"You needed it."

"I could have managed... but none the less I thank you. I think this is our number." 

"21? So horridly cursed..."

"I don't see the significance of it, what's your worry?"

"It's a bit of a old urban legend, the completed 21 that whisks you away."

"Sounds like cryptid speak, I don't care much for it."

"Really? You seem like you'd know quite a bit considering you are what some would call a cryptid."

"And most of it is misinformation. A chubby snake that bursts into your home, steals your alcohol, and tells you lies? Rabbits that lays monster eggs? Men who hit you with sticks until you cry and steal you away in a bag during the winter for being a rotten person? All false claims meant to scare kids to do their work and go to bed on time. These figures are hard working and do no more wrong than your average José on the street."

"Average Joe, Arabis."

"Same difference."

"You really are exuding bastard energies today, I was impressed at what you've done with the Inn owner though."

"I impress myself! Oh woe us newly weds saw your flier gives single room discounts to those traveling toward out honey moon! Ye assist us for my clueless partner has managed to find us quite lost!"

Zinnia plays along and echos the exchange with the Inn keeper from earlier. "Oh but ye in angel country! It's far off from any honeymoon spot!"

"On contrary my dear innkeeper, angel country is where the springs blessed by the father himself are at!"

"It is not worth your lives! Giants and hell beasts among ye will eat you alive!"

"On contrary! We are in Wonder and the lord Alloy has offered to greet us on our special occasion! See my dear partner is a Knight as their pin would imply, part of a guild that has the blessings of the tiny snake! We cannot keep him waiting for long lest he bad mouth us to Reign and damn our souls. In a advance they granted us this wedding gift, a beautiful warm cloak to help us fare better on our journey."

"If Reign and Alloy are involved I cannot allow you to be without rest. I take it you will have a single bed?"

"Single bed, largest that's unoccupied! We need to rest well to look good for our very important meetup!"

"I will manage my best for you two ring stumblers, ye know that those of importance gain discount here yes? Why we could even offer breakfast! I assure you they're the best eggs from the stagnating hen!" 

"Oh your kindness is too much innkeeper!"

"Oh well such a lovely couple as yourselves making it through is worth all the sucking up!"

The two of you are on the verge of tears trying not to break character and laugh. Zinnia wipes their eyes. "Oh Arabis, your theatrics are unmatched and I applaud them. Shall we get settled in?"

"Certainly dog, I apologize I could not manage the bunk today but under the circumstances we did manage an absurdly discounted room."

"I come from a knight's guild, I do not mind having to share a space to sleep. Do you have any ground rules?"

"None off the top of my head. Yourself dog?"

"Nothing really, just please note that if I mistake you for a pillow at night and hug you, you may wake me up to correct the situation."

You smirk. "You hug your pillows, dog?"

"It's comforting. Yourself?"

"Maybe, admittedly I have not spent much time on proper beds so we'll see. Shall we get situated for bed?"

"Soon yes."

That night Zinnia mistook you for a pillow. You did not have the heart to wake them up. 

[SHIVERS]

Candidates - 2020
Rin + Shivers, Patchwork Kernel
No content warnings.
Wax conducts follow-up interviews.

---

---

---

Wax sat in his mountain, hunched over as always. Hugging his knees wasn't the most dignified position, but it was how he fit in this cavern. He couldn't help but wish he had a little bit more leg room, though… hopefully it put the interviewees at ease.

"Send in the first one."

Juno stepped out onto the balcony, losing their gait for a moment as Wax's giant face came into view.
They continued despite this, looking well-past nervous as they took a seat toward the edge of the balcony, clearing their throat.
"Hello."

Wax kept his voice soft as he addressed them, trying to minimize any sort of nerves. "Hello, thank you for coming with your group on such short notice. Did you make the travels safely?"

They nodded slowly.

"Good, I'm glad… Hearth can be a confusing place." He leaned back slightly, giving them more air. "And your name?"

"Jun-" They cleared their throat once more. "Sorry. Juno. I've never... met..." They gestured at nothing, hoping the words would come.
"...Well... someone like..." Their sentence de-railed.

"A high god? Or at least, one my size?"

"Any god. Ever."

"Ah. This is a big first experience, then."

They nodded. "At... At any rate, I'd like to hear more about the job, if... or, we can just talk. However- However would be best for this. We're happy to try and help."

"A bit of both, if that's alright with you."

"Of course! Yep. Yes. ...Sorry." The gesabott took a quick breath.
"Anything you... wanna know?"

"More about you, I suppose. If I give you this job, I want to know that the people doing it are ones I can trust."

"Well, I can assure you that... if I have this job, you can trust me to get it done as best as I'm able. And if... I don't feel like it's something I'm cut out for, well... my friends could still take it. They're a lot more capable than I am, but, I'll still do everything I can to make sure I can do it well."

"They're more capable than you?" He tilted his head. "What makes you say that?"

The eyes on their display grew a little bigger.
"Well! Just. They have more... expertise with... That is to say, they're better at... lots of things. Especially with dangerous jobs. They have more combat ability, and they're faster, think better under pressure, those sorts of things. I'm just... well, gesabotts - you probably know already, but - we're close to indestructible. But I also don't want to be a liability by... being in the way, or anything like that. So... yeah, I- it depends on what you need, really."

"You passed your first interview with flying colors, you know."

"Oh." 

"Well, that's... I'm happy to hear that."

"I think you should give yourself more credit, even though I've just met you. You're a part of this team. Not just an accessory."

"We're not... exactly..." They nodded. "I'll... keep that in mind. Did you have any questions for me?"

"What do you think this offer's going to be?"

"I'm... guessing it has to be important, if you're the one asking."

"Well, yes. Very important to me, at least."

"Well... we're here to help. If... you think we're a good fit."

"Are you good at finding things?"

"...I'd say we have experience with that, yeah."

"And how about people?"

They shuffled in their seat a little.
"I've had a lot of... customer service jobs."

"Those tend to be the worst kind, from what I hear."

Juno bit their lip. 
"They are... rewarding in their own... way," said Juno, clearly trying to be polite.

"You can be honest with me."

"...It isn't a field that really suited me well."

"I'm guessing this field treats you much better. Do you like it? I mean, the adventure of it must be nice."

"I really like exploring around and seeing new places. And I'm really glad I've met good people through it. It can be dangerous, too, but I'm kind of protected from that."

"Good. That's just what I want to hear."

"Does that help you? With your decision, I mean?"

"Mhm. Helps quite a bit."

"Did... you need anything else from me?"

"No, I think that'll be all...you can send the next person in."

"Alright, well..." They almost held out a claw to shake but stopped themself. "Was good meeting you." Juno started walking back, briskly enough to denote their nervousness.

"Thank you for your time!" He called out after them, trying to settle in for the next interviewee.

They waved as they exited.

 

---

Wax could hear a small commotion inside once Juno made it back in, seemingly the rest being worried about what could've possibly happened.

A ruffneck covered in scars and wearing a tattered poncho entered next.
She stood at the edge of the balcony, saying nothing.

"Hello."

"Wax." she addressed simply.

"And you are Ravine, I take it. I saw your interview."

"Could've given us a little warning."

"My offer has to remain confidential until I'm absolutely sure of my candidates."

She pointed back towards the door with her thumb. "Didn't mind making Juno panic, I guess."

"They handled it well, all things considered. I like them."

"Mm." She pulled out one of her cigarettes.

"Ah, can you- can you not smoke, in here? Sorry, just… bad associations."

She stopped. "It's not real cigarette smoke. And it's open air in here. Still gonna get to you?"

"As long as I lean back, I suppose it'll be fine."

The ruffneck sighed and put it away. "S'fine."

"If you're sure."

"I'll live." She pocketed the pack.
"You aren't how I expected."

"What were you expecting?"

"Less timid." she said bluntly.

"I- I am not timid."

"Mm."

"You had questions? Or did you just want to get to know me?"

"Mostly the latter. You answered plenty of questions on your initial interview."

"I can get this job done. I can do it in the way that you want. Doesn't matter what it is. If you need to know more about me, then you can pry, but I don't have anything to say unprompted."

"Nothing relevant to the job, anyways."

"You're very to the point, aren't you?"

"You already know the answer to that."

"No chance at a conversation here?"

"Talk if you want, and I'll answer. I'm here to do a job."

"How are you with tracking people down?"

"Efficient."

"How efficient?"

"Are you looking for a metric? You've got access to my records with Ambit."

"I want to hear it in your words. Give me an example."

"I've taken hundreds of people-finding jobs, including competitive ones. No one has ever finished before me. But you already knew that, if you did your research."

"Didn't you look into us beforehand?"

"I did, but I want to hear a personal story of you finding someone, one that challenged you. If you'd like."

"It isn't challenging."

"Then one that you found interesting."

"My track record speaks for itself."

"Or do you just want a story?"

"I'd like a story, yes. I want to hear your side."

"My 'side' is that jobs don't stand out. I sign up for them, I get them done, and I get paid." 

"You know what I can do, and you know I can do it. If you need me to prove myself, then I will, but I'm not here for your entertainment just because you want company."
She turned around, already on her way out.

"If you want someone to talk to, chat with Juno."
She turned just long enough to glare at him. 

"Don't scare them again."

"...very well. Thank you for your time."

"Yeah."
The door shut behind her, giving Wax just a moment to think.

That could have gone worse.

 

---

A little while later, Juno emerged again.
"Uh, hey."

"Ravine send you out?"

"N-No, I just..." They stepped over, keeping their arms close by their sides.
"I just wanted to apologize. I-I know she can come off as rude, but she really doesn't mean it."

"No, she's fine- she was within her rights to call me out."

They leaned on the balcony railing.
"I guess that... I-I just wanna know..."

A mist surrounded Juno, eventually clearing to reveal a smug snake corvice in a vest.
"...How was that?"

"...Impressive."

They grinned. "Thank you, I try."
Blink swiveled back around and gracefully took a seat, crossing their legs.

"You're Blink, then."

"In the flesh."

"That should come in handy, should you get the job."

"You think so?"

"I mean, it's a versatile ability. As versatile as it gets, really."

They were clearly basking in the praise.
"I could do you, if you'd like! Just a bit smaller."

"Go ahead, I'm curious."

Fog appeared, showing off a Wax about six and a half feet tall when it cleared, mimicking his sitting position.
"As versatile as it gets, really." Wax's voice came out of the figure, with perfectly-emulated cadence to boot.

"Not bad."

The figure bowed, then changed back.
"Was there anything else you needed?"

"I want to know a little bit more about you, not just your abilities."

The snake sat down, leaning back confidently. "By all means, ask away."

"What do you find most intriguing about this job? I mean, you know so little."

"I'd say having very little info is intriguing, wouldn't you? Even moreso now that I know it's being offered by a high god such as yourself."

"Besides, you're offering a hefty sum. I'm sure I can handle whatever you need."

"So the fact that a high god is offering only tempts you further? No intimidation whatsoever?"

"You don't seem intimidating to me, I believe I'm in good company."

"That comforts me, I worry I got off on the wrong foot with the previous two."

"Oh? Why's that?"

"Ravine seems to find my techniques… it's hard to say, and I think I scared Juno senseless."

"There's nothing abnormal about that with Ravine. If you've still got your head on, then I'd say you did fine!"

They crossed their arms, propping their chin on a claw. "Granted, you scaring Juno probably made Ravine more wary of you. She'd never admit it, but she's rather protective of them. Which is unfortunate for you, since I'm sure Juno would've been nervous no matter what you said."

"A warning could have helped things, or may have made them worse. Who can say, really! But, I understand the need for secrecy."

"There's no way I could have put my name on the job request."

"Correct, though, your assistant could have let Juno know before sending them in. And they diiiid decide to send Juno in first, before the rest of us." 

"Not the best move, I'd say."

"I'll make note of it for the future… I don't want to cause anyone undue stress. There's going to be plenty of that on the job."

The corvice adjusted their glasses.
"Since you brought it up:  What would you like us to do, Wax?"

"I need you to find someone. Who exactly, I can't tell you unless you get job confirmation."

"Sounds simple enough." They leaned in a little closer. "But I'm guessing the 'who' is a much larger part of this, isn't it?"

"Very much so. I'm sorry that I can't tell you more, but to call it delicate is an understatement."

They waved a claw. "Not an issue at all."

"Did you have any questions for me either, by the way?"

"What's your impression of us so far? I can't say I'm not curious."

"I'm just a little over halfway through, but… I like you. You have a good variety of skills and personalities, and adaptability will be key to this job."

"Well, I can certainly say I'm adaptable!" They smiled, pleased with their own joke.

"Oh, you've more than proven that." He relaxed visibly, un-tensing from his earlier encounter with Ravine. "I think we can send the next one in- thank you again, for talking with me."

"Of course!" They stood. 
"The pleasure was all mine." Blink placed a claw to their chest.

"I have to ask:  which of the other two is coming in next?"

"If I tell you, will you just mimic them?"

"Oh, please, I only needed to do that once. It's purely curiosity."

"Pulse, then."

"Better luck of the draw, then."

They leaned in to whisper, as if they were standing right next to Wax.
"Just keep it very short. They aren't fond of meeting new people. ...And don't say anything to make them upset. Very important."

"Thank you. I'll do my best."

"You'll do fine."
"And a little confidence wouldn't hurt, hm?"
With a wink and a wave, Blink made their way back inside.

He couldn't help but tense up again. "Confidence. Right."

 

---

An amerveille stepped out in a button-up shirt, and took a seat.
Their paws were perched firmly on their legs, a distance in their eyes, as if they were looking straight through Wax.
"Pulse."
"You're Wax, I take it?"

"That's correct. It's nice to meet you."

"Likewise."
They hardly moved, speaking flatly.
"Wax, I would very much like to answer any questions you have, and move on. I don't mean any offense, but I would rather not be here longer than I have to. It has nothing to do with you specifically."

"That's fine, and I respect that. I'll keep things brief."

"I'd very much appreciate that. I can elaborate as to why, if necessary, though I will keep details vague."

"If you wouldn't mind, I'd like to hear it. Feel free to be as vague as you need, I won't pry."

"I've had direct contact with an angel," they started, leaving room for initial response first.

He simply nodded, listening carefully.

"...Since then, strong emotional reactions can cause sudden, drastic, adverse side effects in myself and those around me. The effects aren't physically dangerous, necessarily, but it isn't something to be taken lightly."

"I have no idea how it would affect you, in particular, it has never happened while in close proximity with a god before. I believe it’s best not to risk that."

"Hopefully that makes things a little clearer."

"Understood entirely. Angel effects are not something I take lightly, and I'll do my best to tread carefully."

"It's appreciated."
Despite this, Pulse didn't seem relaxed in the slightest.

"Are you comfortable with jobs that require tracking people, even in extreme circumstances?"

"Yes. I've had some experience with that. Not as extensive as Ravine or Blink, but I believe with their assistance we could perform that kind of job well."

"And do you have any fears about working with a high god?"

"From what I've read about you, no."

"And what about other high gods, potentially?"

They looked a little curious, their first display of emotion since entering the room.
"Who?"

"...a friend, of mine. Someone dear to me."

"...Teraphim?"

"I knew them very well."

"I'm not sure how you expect us to... find..." Their eyes darted left and right for just a moment, as if they were reading something.
"...You have a lead, then?"

"As much of one as I could find. You'll understand that I can't tell you more unless you get the job for certain, I assume."

"I understand."

"So I return to the question- are you okay with this job, knowing that now?"

"Do you believe they might be hostile?"

"I… don't know. It's been some time."

"We can handle ourselves, but you are potentially pitting us against a high god. If Teraphim is aggressive, people could..."

A twinge of strange energy radiated from Pulse, something unlike Wax had ever experienced before; entirely alien in all senses.
It dispersed as suddenly as it came.
"...It could be dangerous."

He was practically sweating wax droplets at the twinge, trying not to look as nervous as he felt. "Measures will be taken to help as much as we can with that, should you get the job."

"...Do you believe they want to be found, Wax? That’d make a significant difference."

"I don't know… I'm sorry."

They breathed in and out, slowly.
"I would take this job, if you offer it. We would attempt to talk things over, if at all possible. Explain the situation, and what it is you want."

"I'm assuming you don't want us to capture them or anything else drastic."

"But if that alone sparks hostility, to the point where Teraphim gets physical, I won't hesitate to protect those I'm with. I stated already that these... effects are not generally physically harmful, but with a high god-” They trailed off.

“...Is that something you're willing to risk?"

"...yes."

"I don't want to talk your ear off, especially after you've mentioned the effects of your condition, but I have fewer and fewer people I can say that I am truly close to, with every passing century. Even just knowing that they're out there, and that they're okay…"

"...that would be something."

They watched Wax for a little while. 
Another twinge felt, more brief this time.
"I understand."

"I hope that's not unreasonable, then."

"As I said, I would take the job."

"Then I think we're wrapped up."

They stood up and gave a small bow.
"Thank you for your time."

"And thank you for yours. You can send in the last one now."

"I'll be sure to."
Pulse left the balcony.

He let out a sound like a huge exhale, massaging his forehead. 
Please, let the next one be relaxed.

 

---

A pockitt with exaggerated eye-bags entered the balcony, giving Wax a wave immediately.
"What's up?"

They stood by the edge, looking the god over.

"Not much, aside from these interviews… though I'm sure I'll be back to being buried under piles of work after."

"Should have some fun in your free time, then."

"Wanna fight?" they asked nonchalantly.

"Um… I don't know if that'd be a good idea."

"Why not? You don't gotta worry about me." They rolled their shoulder back, already stretching in preparation.

"I can't exactly move much, or I'll end up causing earthquakes."

They rubbed the back of their neck, looking aside in thought.
"Let's go somewhere else then. How 'bout it?"

"...I can't leave the mountain either, or I'll create even more earthquakes."

They sighed. "You don't have like, some underground place for you to stay or something that's bigger? You're a god, can't you just make stuff?"

"Doesn't quite work like that, I'm afraid."

"So you just sit here like... all the time, then?"
"Bet your legs are cramped to hell. Probably not good for your back, either, bud."

"It's not so bad, when you get used to it. God knows I've had time to."

"Doesn't mean you can't make it better. Seems like it kinda sucks." They shrugged.

"Anyways,"

"How 'bout this:  I can come at you, you can try and push me away. If I get a hit in, you give us the job. Sound good?" They looked genuinely excited, despite their exhausted appearance.

He raised a brow. "If you jump off the balcony, you're going to fall and hurt yourself. I'm a few miles up."

"Oh noooo, like I've never had a broken leg before. Pfft." They rolled their eyes.

"I'll be fine, I can make that jump."
"If not, I get hurt. No big deal."
"High pain tolerance."

"...you'd break a lot more than your legs at this height."

"Eh." they shrugged.
"Catch me if I fall, then. You're right there."

Pepper poised themself down low, as if this had already been decided. 
"You ready?"

"Please do not fight me."

"Aw, c'mon! You really think I'm gonna hurt you? You'll be okay, promise."

"And it'll be fun. Right?"

"I would just rather you save your energy for the job. Should you get it."

"I got coffee." they stated matter-of-factly.

Wax looked like he could use a coffee himself right about now.

"And adrenaline. 'Should you fight me.' " they added, slightly mimicking Wax's voice, albeit playfully rather than insulting.

"Pepper, I am pleased to make your acquaintance and appreciate your offer, but I am not fighting you..." He got a devilish look in his eye. "...Today."

They smiled wide, narrowing their gaze. 
"Tomorrow, then."

"No. How about… if you complete the job- if you get the job in the first place. I will fight you then."

"I'm holding you to that, y'know."

"Plus, you're gonna give us the job."

"What makes you so certain?"

"Tell me I'm wrong, then. Have you had a problem with anybody so far? C'mon, I'm not stupid."

Pepper started counting on their claws.
"Everybody likes Juno, don't tell me that you didn't."
"Ravine probably scared you, god or not - no need to be ashamed."
"Blink is really full of themself, but charismatic as all hell, so I'm sure they got you good."
"And Pulse is like eight seconds away from initiating a regional disaster at all times, but they're professional and there's no way you didn't see that."

They pointed at themself with their thumb.
"And I'm Pepper. So,"

"You're gonna hire us."

"...very apt observations."

"Yup."
"Sooo, anything else you want from me, or are we good to go? Got questions or whatever?"

"Well, as you've said, you've made a solid impression already."

"Cool. And you know I'm gonna get the job done."

The pockitt pointed at him.
"Cause I really wanna fight you."

"Then you'll have to rise to the challenge. But… I have a good feeling about this." He tilted his head to the side, a slight smile in his voice. "You can tell the rest of your team that you have all successfully passed."

"Great. We'll be back when it's done, then."
With that Pepper waved on their way out the balcony door.



Only to return moments later.

"...Also, what's the job?"

[A_Mi_Manera]

"Coach" - Crankshaft One Shot feat. Lex. 
 

---

---

"Lex?!"

"Reporting for practice as always, Coach."

"You're supposed to be resting Lex."

"I'll be fine, I can pretty much do anything but spar right now right?

"Lex....."

Dennis "Coach" Rentbaker is a long time family friend and training partner, one who has always been active in supporting your particpation in contact sports. Whether it be rugby or your long time passion, dueling, he's there with a stick of jerky in his pocket and the chops to scream at you to get that extra situp in. Right now he's holding back a urge to scream at you in front of the entire gym.

"I'll be fine Coach, this isn't the worst state I've gone to practice in."

"Your arm is fractured. No."

"It's a small one, not even the worst I've had."

"I don't want you getting tempted to pick fights with other people at the gym. You're not gonna be able to back it up because your arm is bad and feel worse when you get dropped."

"I don't do that anymore, I'm 23 now."

"Didn't stop you from screwing around like a bonehead."

His eyebrows scrunch as he narrows onto your arm in a sling.

"I thought I could trade fine!"

"Construct massively out of weight class from a bigger circuit. You thought you could block a hit from that?"

"I mean... maybe. I got him pretty good so..."

"He got you worse. He went home with a few dents that he'll smooth out by next weekend. You're gonna lose most of this season."

"That's why I'm here though, there's stuff I can do with one arm right?"

"You should rest.... besides, I didn't think you'd come so I promised coaching time to a few others."

"You gave away my slot?!"

"I thought you'd be at home watching cassettes or maybe visiting your mom and pop. When's the last time you've done that actually?"

"Uh... a too long ago. I should do that more, they're probably worried..."

"Yeah, you should. They remodeled a little bit recently and their place is gorgeous."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Honestly you got the time now to spend time with them right? Friends and family? Wouldn't be a bad time to do that."

"Yeah.... I don't want to have to play catch up though, I'm already a little behind on things from just a couple of weeks of resting."

"Lex, it'll all be here when you return. You can spar to your heart's content once a doctor goes and says you're good."

"I mean... can I at least watch?"

"Lex...."

"I don't got much else going on right now. Only friend around is busy til evening most days, haven't told parents about my arm-"

"You haven't?!"

"I don't want them to worry! I know they won't want me to keep doing this if they knew I got hurt like that. They'd get scared..."

"Lex, you're old enough that it shouldn't matter. They can't say no anymore, you can't avoid them for what... almost three months?"

"Yeah....." 

"There's a birthday coming up too. Your dad is gonna be hell upset if you don't show up for that."

"I know.... I just don't want this to be weird. All of it."

Coach contemplates in silence.

"I know this is important to you, and I know you don't wanna miss out. I'm gonna stand firm on telling you no to practice right now but you're welcome to watch from the side, maybe do some jogging to keep your movement going.  Just do NOT spar. The moment you pick a fight with someone here you're out til next season."

"I mean.. that's better than just sitting at home so I'll take that-"

"I still want you to take full resting days, and I want you to tell your parents. Water it down if you gotta, say it was a freak accident, malfunctioning tool, whatever. Just let them know your arm was injured but you're gonna be okay. I'll vouch for you."

"Yeah..."

"You gonna be okay for that?"

"I'll be terrified honestly..."

"Talk to them over call if it's easier, make sure you don't sound like a death when you tell them. They gotta know it's fine and you'll get better."

"Okay."

"They'll phone me so try not to stretch the truth too hard, I don't want to be sucker punched with a question about a train crash. You tell them you either got in a fight off the record or a accident happened in training so we're on the same page."

"I can do that. Thanks for listening to all that.... and letting me stay."

"It's not my gym so I technically can't kick you out anyway. I gotta get back to coaching soon, you can watch all you want. Cooler over in the corner is mine, I got drinks and towels in there if you need them. When your arm heals I'll catch you up to speed on whatever you missed."

"That means a ton-"

"Don't worry about it."

You sat in for the entire session.

[Zenthis]

---

Imperfect Reflection - 2020
Ringor Mortis + Zenthis, general morbit
CW: discussion of deaths
A glance at alternate timlines

---

Timothy sat down at his desk with a cup of tea and a book, the hallucinations that had started back when he saw that... thing had been getting darker and he felt the need to do something relaxing.

 
The first page of this chapter was familiar, but the second...seemed off. It didn't line up with the plot thread established even in the last few pages, and the character names weren't consistent at all.

 
Timothy blinked and sighed, "Not this again," they mumbled. They had hoped that it would calm down long enough for them to read a book but it seemed that even that was being made difficult. They closed the book with a frown.

 
The title of the book seemed to blur slightly, the author's name completely different.

 
They frowned, pushing the book away from them and rubbing their temple. "Stupid hallucinations won't even let me read today," they said under their breath.

 
One of their hands seemed to move in vision alone, their actual hand staying put- it fumbled around, searching for something in their bag.

 
Timothy winced, they knew that whenever they saw that big of a difference that their vision was about to get weirdly disjointed.

 
Their weird not-hand finally found a notepad, sloppily getting it on the table and starting to scrawl in almost illegible handwriting.
Wh are you mesing up my book??!

 
They stood in surprise and turned to start walking away, but they could somehow still see their desk and notepad. "It's never been this bad before..." they mumble to themself.

 
Oh god please st dow

 
They stopped. They weren't entirely sure why, but they decided to do what the hallucinations asked and sat back down.

 
Head hurts. Plea look at paper

 
"Okay, okay!" They said and looked back at the paper.

 
Thank you hurts when you move too much. Makes me dizzy

 
"You're welcome I guess?" They say, still unsure what to make of this.

 
Talk bac to me. Write

 
They grabbed a small whiteboard they had next to their desk and wrote on it. like this?

 
Yes. Oka good glad that works

 
this is going to be they paused, hard to explain to my therapist next week

 
No kiddig. Mine keeps tryin t put me on drugs for it bt all they do is mak me tired

 
yeah same they blink and quickly scribble; wait what even are you?

 
Tim. What are you?

 
Timothy. you know, you're awfully chatty for a hallucination

 
I'm a person

 
could've fooled me

 
Hey if I dint think you were a prson I wouldntve trid this

 
what is that supposed to mean?????

 
You hav to be a person or a ghst or somethin not a hallucination so don't call me one

 
ok I guess? "This is getting really weird." wait are YOU a ghost?

 
No, I'm Tim

 
oh yeah? if you're not a ghost then how can you see what I'm writing?

 
Same goes to you buddy, hw are you seein what I'm writing

 
I was assuming you were doing this

 
Im not controlling you

 
I didn't say you were

 
Ok lets step back and figur this out. Your name is Timothy. Mine's Tim. Idon t know if thats a coincidnce

 
well you say you're not a ghost, what are you then?

 
Told you. I'm a person.

 
what do you look like?

 
Pockitt, short, lng hair

 
same I guess

 
Then its not a coincidence

 
They took a deep breath before continuing to write, not a fan of where this was going, what are you implying?

 
What if Im you? Or you're me?

 
ok I think you lost me, or should I say you? :P They sat back pondering how strange it was to be joking with this... hallucination didn't feel like the right word anymore.

 
I don know what I saw that day but all of a suddn I started seeing what you see

 
seeing what I see? is that what's going on? I started seeing things when I saw that weird... horse... wheel... bug... thing. did that thing somehow do this to us?

 
I thin so.

 
people said my left eye changed color, so I guess it checks out? it's been hard looking at it in the mirror to check for myself though

 
Same here acually

 
yeah its weird and yellow now, apparently it clashes pretty hard with my wardrobe

 
Actually the blue works pretty ok with mine so

 
wait

 
Wait what

 
my eyes are blue. or were both blue I guess

 
I mean yellows mine so I just figurd we swapped

 
oh. sorry for calling your eye color weird

 
It's ok it's not as cool as blue

 
thanks I guess? they took a deep breath before writing, so are we like, weird mirrors of eachother or something?

 
I think so. Whatever tha was messed us up

 
no kidding. wait, if my hallucinations have just been what you see this whole time they trailed off, needing to steady themself before writing; I'm sorry. I'm so, so, sorry.

 
It's... There was a moment of hesitation. Fine.

 
if we are actually mirrors of eachother, then I know enough about us to know that that's a lie

 
I mean

 
what

 
I don't want to think about it much anymore. It happened

 
okay, I won't pry, but I guess I'm here if you need me? not like we can really go anywhere

 
We need to figure out how to make this a little less hellish at least

 
well, if our eyes are swapped, they pause, I'm gonna test something they put their hand over their left eye.

 
I can't see

 
They moved their hand back down and wrote howre you writing then?

 
I can see through my eye but not yours

 
I figured, I was joking

 
They did the same in turn, covering their left eye.

 
ok I can't see what you're doing anymore but my depth perception is shot

 
They removed their hand. So eyepatches are out

 
not necessarily, it's not like this is any better than a lack of depth percetion

 
Good point

 
I think I would prefer the eyepatch actually, what about you?

 
I guess I could get used to it. We're gng to get weird questins though

 
we could say the color change was an early symptom of an infection that caused blindness or somthing

 
That works. People are already concerned though

 
yeah, gonna feel bad if people are like, nice to us after this though

 
It's something we just have to deal with. People are already overly nice to me as is with the whol...yea

 
Timothy frowned, but chose not to reply to that part, well, since we still need eachother for now, I guess we should go get some eyepatches
 

---

 
Timothy frowned at the can in his hand, "Ugh, this stuff is getting more expensive every day, I swear," they muttered.

 
Tim had been quiet lately, almost enough to be concerning- even prompting him to talk hadn't gotten much response.

 
Timothy sighed and put the can back on the shelf before deciding to try to contact Tim, they grabbed the remote in their pocket and pushed the button a couple times. The light that they had installed under their eyepatch flashed twice, code for checking in.

 
There was no response, even with the time being perfect for talking- Tim had rarely ever missed a contact around this time of day.

 
Timothy hurried up his grocery trip, trying not to get too worried about Tim. Tim's tough, he reasoned, tougher than me anyway, he's probably fine... right? Maybe he's just busy.

 
Tim didn't respond for the duration of the trip, radio silence until long after Timothy had gotten home- right before bed, even.

 
The light flashed twice.

 
Timothy scrambled to grab the remote that he left in his coat pocket. When he got to it he flashed it three times, signaling that he wanted to talk with the eyepatches off.

 
Tim responded with three flashes in turn, the vision returning in his eye as he took the patch off.

 
Timothy grabbed his whiteboard and started writing furiously, where have you been? I've been worried

 
Busy

 
well is everything okay?

 
Yeah, I'm fine

 
are you sure? you've barely checked in at all

 
There was a moment of hesitation before he wrote again. It's nothing worth worrying about

 
when was the last time you were telling the truth when you told me that, Tim? I'm not stupid

 
It's the same as it was last week so it's not worth mentioning

 
that's not how this works and you know it

 
I'm not going to bother you about it when you have your life to get to

 
oh my god are you still stuck on this? WE ARE FRIENDS I WANT TO HELP YOU

 
I don't know how to get over it

 
I know, and I'm here for you

 
I just don't understand why it had to be them. Why it happened to me and not you. He stopped writing for a solid moment. I don't want it to have happened to you obviously but

 
no don't worry, I knew what you meant.

 
So much of our lives are the same but why that? Why did that change?

 
I have no idea, I honestly didn't even think that old god's cult was a problem anymore

 
What?

 
sorry I guess that was kind of insensitive

 
No, I mean, what do you mean old?

 
you know, the one that used to be god of consumption? before beacon took control

 
Used to?

 
yeah? you know, spit. our moms must've sung you those uh... really morbid nursery rhymes/cautionary tales about her. you know in hindsight those things are kind of messed up to sing to kids

 
She's not dead here

 
oh fuck

 
I didn't think things could be that different between us our worlds whatever this is

 
yeah that's they paused, unable to come up with words that felt suitable why doesn't wane kill her? that's what happened in my world

 
Went the other way here

 
what do you mean it went the other way?

 
Wane got eaten

 
that... doesn't seem logistically probable. at least not unless spit is way bigger in your world

 
No she's way too small for it to be realistic. Just what they tell us in history books

 
so wait, if wane wasn't around to give solitude to chella, then did wax pick who got it?

 
Wait why does another god have Solitude

 
wait are you telling me that rein is alive there too?

 
What the hell happened in your timeline

 
it was several hundred years ago and I wasn't exactly the best history student but rein got killed helping wane with the big horror vent incident in bluster. wane went and killed spit afterword because no one could really hold her back anymore

 
So is Velvet alive?

 
yes? why?

 
So Spit didn't eat her either. This is so weird

 
spit did what.

 
Supposedly she ate Velvet and Wane within like. A week of each other

 
that's uh... that's a pretty strong metabolism

 
I never thought it made any sense myself

 
I guess it doesn't really have to make sense, they're gods. maybe they can just do that?

 
I guess??? He set his pencil down for a moment, thinking hard before picking it back up. So, the cult isn't as big of a thing then.

 
theres a few groups of them here and there, you mostly just have to avoid the woods and dark alleys. ever since beacon let grind get involved with getting rid of them there've been less and less though

 
That explains why things seemed more...peaceful, looking through your eye

 
well it's still your eye, its just in my head now. but yeah I guess I know why what I thought were my hallucinations were so... uh... I don't know how to describe it in a way that doesn't sound rude

 
No offense taken

 
They pause for a moment, considering something before writing, now, I don't want to come off the wrong way here, but how much of this discussion was genuine interest and how much of it was you trying to avoid talking about how you feel again?

 
Bit of both

 
you can't just not talk to anyone about this. have you found a better therapist yet?

 
No offense but I'm pretty sure your timeline has better therapists than mine if your Consumption is better off

 
nah I think good therapists being hard to find is pretty much a universal constant. also I think the ones over there probably get more practice

 
Guess that's a good point. Haven't found anyone yet though...I don't know if I will, honestly


well, you can't just go on not talking to people about it

 
I'm talking to you

 
yeah, that's progress. I mean it

 
I do feel a little better. Mostly confused over how different everything is but...it's something


yeah I'm gonna have to think about... all of this. can you promise me that you'll try a little harder to keep in touch

 
Sorry about that. I'll try

 
it's fine, I just worry about you

 
Yeah well you're a big sap

 
Timothy smiles haha yeah... I guess I am

[skinstealer]

---

Homebrew - 2018/2020
Ringor Mortis + B. Comorant, Pre-Sleepwalker
No content warnings
Philly and Flynt share a late night meeting.

---

 

It’s late, way too late for anyone to be up and roaming the halls of the Luxson Biotech Facility, but as usual, there’s no rest for nighttime security. Flynt knows that most people will have left work hours ago, curfew already instated for anyone not on the night watch...but there’s always someone on overtime. 

Sure enough, there’s light coming out from under the door of a familiar room, an even more familiar name on the door. Visiting Philly for his check ups and tests after hours had become their routine for months now, and it’d become their little secret. All it took was a few loops around the main hallways before Flynt could safely say he did his job, and then it was off to see his friend and get up to, as Philly called it, “mad science shenanigans”. 

Flynt sneaks closer to the door, opening it slowly with his foot- Philly’s in the same place as always, leaning forward over some notes and completely focused on scribbling something down.  

Perfect.

The corvice plans his steps carefully, making sure not to make any audible noise on the tile. Philly’s so deep in his work that he doesn’t even notice Flynt leaning over his shoulder, practically stage whispering in his ear.

FLYNT: You're up past shift.

Philly tries not to jump out of his chair, fur standing on end. He whips around with ears back, but the playful smile on his face betrays any attempt at annoyance. 

PHILLY: And you startled me!
FLYNT: Heh. Not here to bust you, but the job needs me to ask why.

Philly leans back against the table a bit, trying to play off his surprise.

PHILLY: Boooo. What if it's secret lab business?
FLYNT: Records say they’re classified?

Philly’s expression turns smug.

PHILLY: Maybe that’s a secret too!

Flynt only returns the look even harder, used to their little game at this point.

FLYNT: And what about for a friend?


Philly turns his body back to his work, still turning his head back to talk to Flynt.

PHILLY: Just documenting our recent findings, thinking ahead.
FLYNT: Yeah?
PHILLY: Mm, we got a lot of progress out of those last few tests!

Philly’s tail wags a bit, clearly excited over his findings. 

PHILLY: It's going fabulously.

Flynt tries to peek over at his notes, unable to keep his curiosity at bay.

FLYNT: Show me.

Philly’s been sketching Flynt's head, focusing on his new teeth. He’s even put in some feather detailing and light shading, not a perfect likeness, but close. It’s halfway between casual scribbling and carefully drawn diagrams, a style that Flynt’s come to appreciate every time he sees it. He can’t help but grin a little, resisting the urge to trace along the paper.

FLYNT: Don't look like work to me.
PHILLY: It is!
FLYNT: Seems more like graphite daydreaming.
PHILLY: I'll have you know that scientific illustration is a part of my work process!

Philly flips through to another piece of paper, showing him all his drafts and notes- investigations on sludge leakage (the drooling had become a bit of an issue lately), notes on before and after stages, typos aplenty, and some sketches of Flynt’s overall body shape as it changed. He can’t help but feel shy over the last one, but Philly keeps thumbing through.

PHILLY: I can add in my own edits a lot easier with a drawing.

Philly flips through his notebook, showing prior, quicker sketches of possible outcomes for his teeth, matched to formulas and notes. 

PHILLY: It allows me to explore possibilities as well, excellent for visualization!
FLYNT: Huh. They look great.
PHILLY: You think so? 

Philly smiles wide, pleased as could be. 
PHILLY: I'm not the best, but I really like illustrating my own work. It's one of my favorite parts of the job.
FLYNT: I can only do little scribbles myself, honestly.
PHILLY: Oh, you can help me with the next part then! 
FLYNT: Don't see how I could contribute much.
PHILLY: To the contrary- we need to talk the next step, and your input is vital.
FLYNT: ...Alright.
PHILLY: Scoot in a bit! I've been brainstorming. 

Philly rifles through one of his other notebooks, trying to find a new, fresh page. Flynt dusts the seat next to him and scoots in, perching in true corvice fashion. 

PHILLY: So, first things first...how have the mods been treating you? Teeth aching at all, strength staying consistent?
FLYNT: Been different, but mostly fine.
PHILLY: Different how?

Philly switches from his charcoals to a pen, clicking the end, completely ready to write down notes-

FLYNT: Like this. 

Flynt playfully clamps onto the dog's face with his teeth, not enough to hurt. Philly turns all red, laughing as best he can with a bird latched onto him. Flynt lets go quick, but it’s still enough for Philly to look like an embarrassed mess.

PHILLY: Sh-sharp! They're sharp, you nerd! 

Flynt’s expression is painfully smug.

FLYNT: That good or bad? 
PHILLY: Good! 
PHILLY: I mean, that's what we were going for! 

Philly tries to regain his composure, coughing. He gives a thumbs up, avoiding eye contact.

PHILLY: Sharp is really good. It's good. 

He finally gets himself together, trying to get back into proper science mode.

FLYNT: That the goal?
PHILLY: They're certainly holding up well, and if you don't have any aches, I'd say we're doing great. 

Philly scoots out of his chair quickly, making his way to his trusty coffeepot. His tail wags behind him, and Flynt can’t help but get the feeling that he’s just using it as an excuse to cool down.

FLYNT: You're gonna be antsy when you get to bed you know.
PHILLY: It'll be fine! I haven't even hit my usual dose of liquid energy yet. 
FLYNT: Caffeine is the world's most celebrated drug.
PHILLY: For very good reason! 

Philly downs half of his mug and settles back down, face finally back to its usual color. 

PHILLY: And your personal feelings on how things turned out?
FLYNT: There's a nice feel to it.

Philly lights right up.

PHILLY: Awesome. That's a job well done in my book.
FLYNT: You think it looks good?
PHILLY: It suits you perfectly.

Flynt fusses with his teeth, hand on his lower jaw. Philly tries not to stare, shuffling his notes around. 

PHILLY: S-so, the next step. Are you ready to talk another mod?
FLYNT: Depends what you got.

Philly spreads his arms wide, his grin returning. 

PHILLY: I was thinking we go big. What's something you wish you could change, anything at all.
FLYNT: Got a selfish one.
PHILLY: Even better. I want this one to be special to you.

Flynt pulls up his sleeves, revealing scars- Philly’s seen them before, but they’ve always been something untalked about, and he’d never felt right asking.

FLYNT: Wings got jacked up a while back. My nerves never healed just right. Cold stings, don't feel anything like I used to. 

Philly extends his hand, tapping the tips of Flynt’s wings. 

PHILLY: Restorative transformation...possible. Possible, but incredibly difficult…
FLYNT: What are the challenges? 
PHILLY: Healing using horror is a bit tricky.  Getting targeted transformations like we've been doing, like the strength enhancements and the teeth, that's fairly easy stuff- they're common mutations. 
PHILLY: Mutations aren't a one time deal either, so to restore the nerves and tissue, you'd have to, well...create a regenerative one.
FLYNT: In short? 
PHILLY: If I could pull it off, you'd be able to regenerate any damaged tissue, not just your wings. Sludge, shell, if it got fucked up, you'd be able to heal it faster, and with a way lower chance of scarring.
FLYNT: I'd be like some type of comic book character.
PHILLY: Dove would absolutely freak.

The two of them share a knowing glance, Philly’s smirk matching Flynt’s snickering. 

FLYNT: Think she'd be all for it?
PHILLY: Oh my god, are you kidding me?

Philly can’t help but laugh. 

PHILLY: If she catches wind of this idea, she'll make me do it- if not to you, then to her!
FLYNT: Think she'd abuse it? 
PHILLY: I fear her power as it is, she doesn't need regeneration! 
FLYNT: We might end up creating the worst antihero the world's seen.

Philly only laughs harder, Flynt joining in- it’s moments like this that the two of them hold onto, and it’s some time before they’re able to catch their breath and get back to work. 

PHILLY: But as for you...would you do it? You can't take this kind of thing back, and it's got a catch or two.
FLYNT: Let me hear the catch. 

Philly rubs his temples, thinking over the ramifications.

PHILLY: This kind of mutation would be like...it's the top tier. The highest we can safely go, and unfortunately, at what we know now, we can't just isolate the regen. It'd have to come with another mutation, a big one, and there'd be serious side effects.

The mood of the room changes quickly, Flynt solemn as he lets it sink in.

FLYNT: Not dropping from this project, but I gotta think on that one.
PHILLY: I can probably package it with a mutation of your choice, but there's not much I can do about the stuff that comes with it. It'd have to be a really big change, too.
FLYNT: Can you crunch what can happen down?

Philly speaks with huge hand gestures, doing his best to articulate.

PHILLY: Hunger and issues regulating emotions are the big ones- I can minimize the latter, but the hunger's not going anywhere.
PHILLY: With your current mutations, you're not really affected, but the further you go, the more you'll need to eat. 
FLYNT: How much more?
PHILLY: You'd have to snack regularly, maybe squeeze in an extra meal.
FLYNT: Heads would probably kill me over that.

Philly’s face turns excited, hands clasped. 

PHILLY: I could cook for you!

His blush returns as soon as he says it, embarrassed at his own outburst.

PHILLY: I mean, if you'd want. They give me plenty of food money to order from up top.
FLYNT: Think I already got something in mind.

Philly’s ears perk up.
 
PHILLY: Yeah?

Flynt clamps his beak on Philly’s face again, unable to keep himself from blushing this time- it’s a little too close to, well...a kiss, for him not to. Philly makes a puppy whine, his voice muffled.

PHILLY: Nooo! No eating the master scientist!!

Flynt lets go just enough to talk, still staying close. 

FLYNT: Your experiments backfired.
PHILLY: Betrayal at the hands of my finest work!
FLYNT: The creation rebels against the creator.

Philly grabs Flynt’s beak with both hands, holding it shut with a devilish expression. 

PHILLY: Can I take this sudden chomping fit as a yes? 

Flynt wiggles out of his grasp easily, the scientist letting go as soon as he went to talk.

FLYNT: When we got it figured out a bit more, yeah.
PHILLY: And thaaaat…

Philly pokes through his notes and slides over a page of scientific drawings, mostly rough sketches of Flynt, including his build, proportions and current mods. They’re more refined than the ones Flynt got to peek at earlier, but still sketchy around the edges.

PHILLY: Is why I have these! You said you could do doodles, right? 

Flynt droops a bit, not confident in the slightest.

FLYNT: Don't see how I'd do much better than you in this bit.
PHILLY: You know what you want better than I would! I mean, I can try to draw based on description here, but you can draw right on top of these. I have copies.

Philly plunks a pen down for him, giving him a reassuring look. Flynt takes it slowly, looking down at the notes.

PHILLY: I can always work on refining the idea, but I want it to be yours.

It’s quiet for a moment as Flynt thinks it over. 

FLYNT: Maybe... something that'll help me get around easier. Something tougher.
PHILLY: Tougher's a guarantee, I wouldn't mod you with something that wouldn't last.
FLYNT: I want something better than before.
PHILLY: Well, you said you're not happy with your wings…

Flynt glances down at his wing, unable to stop thinking about the scars underneath his top

FLYNT: They're not in great shape.

Philly starts taking notes, only looking up to check his expression.

PHILLY: So, how would you fix ‘em up?
FLYNT: Make them more practical I guess. Something that can do heavy lifting.

Philly sticks his pen in his mouth for a moment, flipping to check an older page. 

PHILLY: Why not arms? Hands'll do you a lot better than those wings if you want to lift shit. 

Flynt extends a wing, wiggling it around. 

FLYNT: Don't got bones.
PHILLY: Don't need ‘em! 

Philly zips up out of his chair and zooms back with a large book in hand, slamming it on the table and opening it to a marked tab.

PHILLY: Let's see......

He flips through pages until he gets to an illustration of a cat-like corvice, complete with fur and large claws. 

PHILLY: Tada! Mammal morph corvice! They've got arms just fine, no bones needed!
FLYNT: Don't think I've seen one in this part of the lab.
PHILLY: Nope, they're more common on Fallow's Island! Neat though, huh? 
FLYNT: Fallow's island must be wild.
PHILLY: When we've made it big on this research, I'll take us. You, me, Dove. 
FLYNT: It nice?

Philly nods.

PHILLY: Pictures and video don't do it justice. Hell, if we can pull this off, we'd be able to travel there pretty often. This kind of research...it'd change the world.

Philly smiles, folding his hands together and leaning on them. 

PHILLY: But, if these mods help you out, that's more than enough for me.
FLYNT: Win-win if we do this, then.
PHILLY: As long as you're up for the side effects and piles of tests, I'm confident I can pull it off.

Flynt leans in, solemn.

FLYNT: Can I trust you?

Philly softens, his face both honest and serious.

PHILLY: I'll give this everything I have, and then some.
FLYNT: And we'll make it work?
PHILLY: Through anything.
FLYNT: Then I trust you.

Philly grins wide, trying not to wiggle in excitement.

PHILLY: Sounds like we've got a lot of late nights ahead, huh?
FLYNT: That's not a excuse to stay up until 6. 
PHILLY: Flyyyyynt...
FLYNT: I mean it.
PHILLY: Flyyyyynt, it's fiiiine.
FLYNT: Don't need you blowing it during the daytime or getting hurt.
PHILLY: Fiiine...just…

Philly starts gathering his papers up, his hand lingering a bit away from one of Flynt's wings. 

PHILLY: A little longer, alright?
FLYNT: Just don't be jittery in the morning. Take care of yourself.
PHILLY: I have to be in top condition to pull this off, right?

Philly smiles and goes to take a drink of his coffee, head slightly tilted in Flynt’s direction.

PHILLY: I promise, I won't go too overboard.

Flynt pushes the mug down a bit, getting a pout out of Philly.

FLYNT: That means control your coffee intake too.
PHILLY: Fine, but don't expect me to go cold turkey! Takes time to wean off of this stuff.
FLYNT: Heh, when do we start then?
PHILLY: If somebody wasn't so insistent we head to bed, I'd say tonight...but tomorrow should be good...

[Zenthis]

 

---

Under the Sea - 2020
Zenthis, Egress
CW: discussions of potential death
An ordinary day for some.

---

Terza woke up and rolled out of bed. Or at least they tried to, their bedmates shifted around during the night and now someone was right where they had tried to roll.
 
“Oof, dang it Terza,” a voice muttered, “This is the fourth time you've woken me up this week.”

“Yeah well, you need the wake up calls anyway,” Terza said, clacking her teeth together with a smirk.

“Stop clacking, it's not that funny. And get off,” said Arto, the currently squished Gremlin.

“Alright you big grump,” they said, walking across Arto and hopping off the bed.

“Ugh, you absolute brat,” Arto said, rolling over and jokingly saying “I'm going back to sleep.”

“Oh no you're not, we're on duty today,” said Terza, grabbing Arto by the scruff and pulling them off the bed of insulation and chair foam.

“Ohhhh noooo, it looks like my legs don't work and you'll have to carry me the entire way,” Arto said, flexing their clearly functional legs.

“Oh my god you're such a butt.”

“You're such a butt.”

At that, Terza dropped Arto, “Alright lazybones, we're here.”

Arto got to their feet and stretched with a few loud pops. “Yeah well,” they say, loudly cracking their neck, “It's not like we were far to begin with anyway.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“What does your face have to do with anything?”

A voice called out from the makeshift room in front of them, ”Both of you knock it off! You know the rules, no tomfoolery is permitted here.”

A wizened Gremlin stood in the doorway, standing on three unsteady paws, the fourth rummaging around in a pack on their back, “Honestly,” they said, “It’s like you’ve never done this before. Look just… get in here before someone less kind than me sees you messing around.”

“Oh come on, there’s no need to be that way, Gauss,” Arto said, following them into the chamber, “This has been a pretty good month all things considered, you need to relax.”

“A pretty good mon-” Gauss started to say, their wiry tail drooping even further “You… you didn’t hear what happened this morning?”

“No? We just woke up before getting here,” said Terza.

“Oh, oh no. I don't know how to say this but...” Gauss took a deep breath before continuing, “We lost contact with Settlement 12 after they sent out a transmission about a giant horror. It is... presumed gone.”

“Gone? What do you mean gone? Is everyone there..?” Terza trailed off.

“We've told some of our scavengers to check out the area. They aren't back yet. Look, you should just get to your job, this is... being handled,” they said, sighing heavily.

“But... we have friends there!”Arto said loudly, “You can't expect us to just... sit here and wait can you?”

“You are not the only one who knew the people there.” Gauss said, bitterly, “But we all have our own jobs to do, and you know yours. Get to it.”

Arto nodded solemnly, Terza looked like they were about to say something before turning around and entering the cockpit, grabbing Arto again and dragging them in too.

Once inside the cockpit, Terza's eyes darted around, taking note of the state of the place. The glass window was cracked in several places and taped over several times, not fully managing to stop pools of sugar water from forming on the instruments. Terza stepped in one of the many puddles on the ground and grimaced.

“Ugh, I hate being assigned here,” they said, shaking their paw to get the sticky muck off, “Why can't the council move them somewhere else?”

“And how exactly would you move them? They're practically bolted down, and they don't really... count as metal.” Arto replied, grabbing one of the wire brushes out of the bucket by the entrance.

“Well, just because I personally don't know how to move them doesn't mean the council couldn't find a way,” they mumble, grabbing a chisel and striking it into the crystals growing on the sleeping god in front of them. “Besides, I feel like how wet this room is becoming should be grounds enough to wake them so they can move their own damn self.”

“Terza, there's no need to be so disrespectful,” Arto said, sighing.

“Sorry, it's all just... getting to me again.”

“Hey do you need to take a break for a bit? I can handle this for now.”

“I'm fine. Well, fine enough. Look, Arto, you don't need to cover for me all the time, I can scrape some fuckin' crystal deposits just fine on my own.”

“Y-”

“Sorry. I shouldn't've-”

“No, it's fine.” Arto nudged them reassuringly, “Look, are you sure you don't need a break?”

Terza sighed deeply and hesitated a moment before responding. “You can't keep looking after me like this. You need to take a break sometimes, too.”

“I'll take a break when we all get to the surface.”

“That's not- you can't just...” Terza sighs deeply, “Do you really think it's real? I mean,” Terza rapped the chassis of the god in front of them with their tail, “Turbine here is the only one of us who's seen it.

“Well, we gotta believe it is, or else what else are we fighting so hard to survive for?”

“Yeah... yeah.”

Arto raised their brush and began scraping off some small sugar barnacles that had begun accumulating on one of Turbine's legs. Terza took their chisel and began working again in silence.
 

---

 

“See, what I don't get,” Arto said, chewing loudly on a piece of scrap metal, “Is why they don't just make a new air pump instead of just fixing that piece of shit that keeps breaking down.”

“Uh... I dunno dumbass,” Terza said, taking small nibbles of seat leather, and eyeing Arto's plate hungrily, “Maybe because making a new one would take a fuckload more resources than we got right now. They ain't gonna drop everything and make us a new pump just because the clangs make it hard for you to get your beauty sleep.”

“Hey, those clangs keep everyone from getting their beauty sleep.” Arto said with a laugh, passing a chunk of scrap over to Terza.

Terza brought the scrap close to their teeth then grimaced, “Ugh, my fur is still too wet for me to eat this. Looks like I'm still stuck with leather and insulation. God I wish that the magic we use for eating wasn't also disabled by water. I don't need most of my magic day to day, so that's whatever, but I am so tired of being unable to eat metal for an hour after stepping in a puddle.”

“Well, it could be worse, you could be stuck with some of that fake leather shit. That shit's nasty.”

“It's not so bad, well, not much worse than this anyway, my friend Karsk, from Settlement 12 really likes...” Terza's voice trailed off and they took another bite.

“Hey, we don't know for sure what happened yet, they could be ok.”

Terza growled, “Don't. You can lie to yourself, but please don't lie to me.”

“But-”

“But nothing!” Terza spat, their hackles rising, “It's not going to be alright! It is never going to be alright, that is just how it is here.”

“Terza.”

“What?”

“You're doing it again.”

Terza blinked, and their expression loosened, “I... I am, aren't I? I shouldn't have- I'm sorry.”

“You've been stressed lately, it's fine.”

“It's not fine,” Terza said, starting to raise their voice again, before realizing what they were doing, and speaking again, but quieter, “It's not fine. I keep saying awful things to you and getting so
angry! I need to do something about this, about me.”

“What you need is food, and probably therapy, but we only have access to one of those at the moment. How's your fur?”

“It's... dry enough now, I think.”

“Good, here,” Arto said, passing Terza a chunk of a gyroscope.

Terza looked at it with wide eyes, “You can't give this to me! This is the good shit, you should eat it yourself.”

“Nah, I'd rather share it.”

“But I don't deserve-”

“Terza.”

“Okay.”

Terza pulled off a piece and began nibbling on it, purring as they do.

“Thank you Arto.”

“You're welcome.”

“Do you think the people in Settlement 12 made it out alright?”

Arto sighed and looked out the window, gazing into the murky water that surrounded all of them.

“Honestly? Probably not, but I hope so. I really really hope so.”

[A_Mi_Manera]

A Mundane Geezer One Shot




You're Geezer, professional duelist and part-time knight. You and a old friend from a theatrics have decided to meet up at a shopping center, both to talk buisness and catch up a little. You wish you both kept in contact more than you did and you know it's on you to a degree but he doesn't seem to mind this. 

Geezer: How about this one?

Snipe: Uh, hard to gauge, try it on yeah?

You pull down a rather expensive coat from a rack and waste no time getting it on. You struggle a bit snapping the buttons down.

Snipe: Not like that..... you need help?

Geezer: No I got this. 

Snipe: Make sure you don't got anything overlapping, you wanna hear a proper click.

Geezer: Hold up....

The buttons connect successfully.

Geezer: There we go. 

Snipe: Kinda like that. What's the tag say?

Geezer: Uh..... I mean I just got a big check so I could...

He sees the triple digit pricing on the coat.

Snipe: Shit, you really wanna drop that much? That's a investment.

Geezer: Maybe, you think it looks good?

Snipe: It looks good, don't get me wrong! Sure ain't a week's paycheck good though.

Geezer: I got a bonus but.... yeah that might be much for what it is. 

Snipe: I mean it's up to you, your money right?

Geezer: Guess so. I got time.

Snipe: You got time! 

You pull off the coat and place it back on its proper rack. 

Geezer: So uh, how's working at Capital been?

Snipe: I mean it is! It's work. Honestly wish I was doing more than stunt shows but...

Geezer: But it puts food on the table.

Snipe: Yeah, that's really all there is to say on it. Ah well, still too early to say I'll never touch the big screen right?

Geezer: You wanna be in the movies?

Snipe: So bad man, at this point I don't care if I'm the lead or not. Just want that breakout role.

Geezer: Nobody at your job got the hookup for a audition?

Snipe: I mean I'm doing one later this month but... I just wanna have my name on a poster you know? Go out there, do good work, maybe be a household name by my mid 30s. Like... you think I've got a shot, right? You've seen me in action.

Geezer: I mean yeah, you put in a lot of work. Better than I did in class. Hey how's this one?

You zip on another coat.

Snipe: That's kinda nice actually. 

Geezer: Could rock this maybe. 

Snipe: Nah, yeah. Tag?

Geezer: It's in the budget range, no worries.

Snipe: I wanna see.

He pokes around for the tag dangling from behind. 

Snipe: Do it, hellava bargain. Seen these go for way more. 

Geezer: Yeah?

Snipe: Yeah. Hey so uh... I got a question.

Geezer: Go for it.

Snipe: I heard a tip that you're gonna put on a show at the park yourself yeah? Not just a lot of yadayada?

Geezer: Yep, a duel actually. Actually why I called you up to begin with, didn't wanna pop in and then have to tell you "Yeah I'm just here on business."

Snipe: If you wanna hang out I'm down you know? You don't gotta wait for a occasion.

Geezer: Yeah, sorry about that. 

Snipe: Don't sweat it, you're all g. Hey, you wrapped up here yet? Getting kinda hungry.

Geezer: Yeah, think so. Not seeing anything else in my price range that I'm liking too much.

Snipe: Cool, take to the register. Dying for some late brek right now. You feel me?

Geezer: You got money? If not I can cover you.

Snipe: I got cash, don't sweat it bro. 

Geezer: You wanna go up ahead?

Snipe: I'll wait on you I think. Don't take long.

Geezer: I won't.

[A_Mi_Manera]

A Geezer Adventure: 





You march through a trail the outskirts of town with your luggage in hand. If you remembered how much of a walk it was you would have taken up the cab driver's offer to take you the rest of the way. This was frankly a mistake on your end. 

Your journey arrives to a close after about half an hour, your grandmother's house surrounded by vehicles of other relatives. Outside your cousin Charon is there greeting people in Grandma Erica's place, age has made her a little less social over the years but she continues to host regular holiday events and reunions. You approach the porch.

Geezer: Hey! 

Charon's attention turns toward you. He wraps up things with your aunt and walks down the steps.

Charon: Geezer!

Geezer: Yooooo!

He gives you a hug and a pat on the back. You awkwardly hug him back with your arms full.

Charon: Glad you could make it. Grandma missed you....

He looks down at your bags.

Charon: You need help with your stuff?

Geezer: Nah I got this, brought something pretty nice you might be interested in.

Charon: Mm? Did you now? Lay it on me."

Geezer: Inside first, I don't want it touching the dirt.

You gesture to him to move over. You rush through the doorway and drop your bags on the couch.

Geezer: Check this out yeah? Managed to snag one of these early.

You flash him a compact disc inside its case. 

Charon: You got the new system? 

Geezer: Heck yeah I did! Grabbed a chunk of the launch stuff too.

Charon: Launch? It's pretty much a port machine right now, I'm surprised you didn't wait. 

Geezer: I mean yeaaaaah but... they're good ports and more stuff is coming down the line. You seen the new Flip game? 

Charon: Mm, in a magazine. There's no way they'll be able to avoid performance issues, it'll be downgraded hard for final release.

Geezer: I got the demo, I don't think it will.

Charon: On you right now? 

Geezer: Yeah! You wanna take a look?

Charon: If you can set it up on the TV I'll gladly. 

You start pulling the console out of its bag. 

Geezer: Feel free to look through the games yeah? I got a few.

Charon: Mm, will do....

You watch him smile slightly going through. Your cousin's been more of a frowner since you first met him so you can't help feel like you've done some good.. 

Charon: You know if someone brings kids you're going to have to watch your stuff.

Geezer: Absolutely aware, not gonna let them touch the discs. 

Charon: Don't blame you. Noticed you've got a copy of Arc Tag 2. 

Geezer: Yeah? You remember playing Arc Caste in the liquor store yeah?

Charon: Mm, it's still there you know? We have a proper arcade in town these days though so it's a little lonelier. 

Geezer: Game was a quarter sink so I picked up the new one. Roster is huge!

Charon: Is it a one for one port?

Geezer: Mostly? A friend of mine who's more into fighting games said that there's a few differences where characters who mash buttons to do more damage during super animations can get more inputs in.

Charon: Oh? Button inputs yes?

Geezer: Yep. So like... you know Blitz right? From the first game?

Charon: Mm. 

Geezer: So because her animation lags the console version slightly for her super, and it does more damage if you press light and heavy punch repeatedly during it, it makes it possible to do it more times than the arcade version. 

Charon: You can mash during it?

Geezer: You never knew that?

Charon: I'm not good at fighting games, I just like them. 

Geezer: Fair enough! Also got the console set up. Wanna get that demo out of the way first? 

Charon: Yeah. 

You both clear up room on the couch and sit down. You hand him the controller.

Charon: What are you doing?

Geezer: Letting you go first.

Charon: Geezer I'm bad at these....

Geezer: Relax, it'll teach you everything. Check out the opening yeah? It's got really fancy visuals.

Charon: Mm... I'll be honest I never would have associated a flip game with grunge. 

Geezer: It's experimental. They wanna keep up with the time. You can press start whenever.

Charon: There's other characters?

Geezer: In the menu but not in the demo yet. They'll be like 6 of them in final release.

Charon: Mm, unfortunate. I wanted to try Barry.

Geezer: Barry is a dumbass. I don't do Barry like that.

Charon: He's a ammonite, he's trying his best.

Geezer: He looks nothing like a ammonite. 

Charon: Flip looks like a mammal more than a fish so I think it isn't a exclusive issue. 

Charon rubs his eyes. 

Geezer: You okay?

Charon: The visuals look a bit odd to me, it's moving so fast.

Geezer: Yeah that's uh... the framerate. It moves 60fps, more than double what movies do and it's 3D so it'll do that. 

Charon: Mm... I'll adjust. 

Geezer: You sure?

Charon: Maybe. I think you should play first so I can get a better understanding on this honestly

Geezer: Sure. 

You take the controller back from him. 

Charon: Everything all good back home?

Geezer: Yeah, why?

Charon: Just wondering... it's been different without you around.

Geezer: Yeah?

Charon: Grandma still feels bad about what happened. Apparently you weren't supposed to lose your body like that. A paradox of sorts.

Geezer: Freak accidents happen with time displacement...  besides I'm over it. You done and saved me you know. Made me immortal too, can't complain about that. 

Charon: Mm. There's been no loss of function?

Geezer: Nah, not really. You don't gotta feel bad Charon, we made it out and I'm still here right? Better than ever even. 

Charon: If you say so.

Geezer: Without ya'll I wouldn't be here at a family gathering playing video games on the couch. I'd be on the street or way worse you know? 

Charon: Is... is that a whale?

Geezer: Yeah it is. You sure you don't want a turn.

Charon: After your run. Then I'll gladly take a crack. 

Geezer: Good... you can pick next game after you know.

Charon: Mm. 

Geezer: We've talked about what happened as kids plenty you know?

Charon: I do. It can't be helped....

Geezer: Promise you I'm fine. 

Charon: Mm. You done?

Geezer: Eh?

Charon: The demo.

Geezer: Yeah. Your turn next as promised.

Charon: Hand it over.

You handed him the controller. 

For a little while you were able to distract him from the usual worries that drown the room when you show up.

[SHIVERS]

Red Ice - 2020
Como + Shivers, Punchclock Animal
Content warnings: violence, blood, injury, mentions of death, mild body horror
Bucket takes shelter in an abandoned cabin.

---

---

---

A cabin in the woods. 
Hidden away from the main path and seemingly deserted enough during the day to appear a waste of time for any potential raiders. 

This was shelter enough for someone on the run as much as Bucket Judgment, former demon of Solitude's famous greater god. 

They spent the day running errands around the closest town in disguise, and at night set up shop with all their tools of living kept safe under the floorboards. 
It was certainly a downgrade, but a necessary one to keep hidden from the wrath of one particularly bloodlust-driven Spit. 

For now they sat inside, waiting until the sun was down before trying to get anything of significance done.

A thin, black, needle-like spear punctured through the wall of the cabin, missing Bucket's leg by mere inches.

Bucket scrambled across the floor toward the corner of the cabin, diving for their large bladed weapon leaning on the wall.

More spears followed suit, hounding the knight; each one a narrow miss. 
A splintered chunk of wood harmlessly bounced off Bucket's cheek from one of the impacts.

The dog grabbed the huge sword and shielded themselves behind it. "If thy are a bandit in search of goods to rob, reveal your form lest you confess yourself to be an assassin."

A voice from outside the cabin spoke, its direction difficult to determine.
"You know of bandits that can do this, Bucket Judgement?”
Four spears pelted the sword simultaneously, testing the dog's hold on it.
“I find that hard to believe."

"You would be surprised how high effort some of them manage to be.  It's impressive sometimes."
Bucket maintained their grip and charged the door directly, slamming through.

A spear was positioned just outside, low to the ground and horizontal. 
Just at the right spot to trip the canine should they not see it coming.

The dog clinked their blade directly against the spear, narrowly avoiding injury but staggering their movement slightly in the process. "High effort indeed...."

A black bat in a crimson cloak appeared from around the side of the shack, several more black spears hovering in the air around them.
Their eyes were closed, head down slightly.

"I feel the bandit assertion is presumptuous, and more than a little insulting."
They walked towards Bucket slowly, arms stretched out at their sides.

"I'm much more of a threat than that, Bucket."
The bat's eyes opened as they approached, a red glow emanating from both.

The dog made direct eye contact. They started swirling the large sword overhead in preparation.  "Then you're an assassin sent by Spit yes? I suggest you return where you came from."

They stood still about ten feet away, pearly whites showing in a grin.
"Or what, Bucket?"
A spear ejected itself out from the woods nearby, almost ripping the front of Bucket's shirt open.
"Do you have what it takes to kill me?"

Bucket started walking toward them unflinchingly, spinning the sword to cover them from the sides. "I'd really prefer not to if I can help it."

They laughed, clearly enjoying themself.
The figure raised a claw, seemingly pointing at Bucket.
One of the spikes hovering around them shot straight for Bucket's arm, though it was meant purely as a distraction for the thick, red ice forming along the ground behind the knight.

The dog swung to deflect the spike away from themselves.
It clattered down to the grass beside them just as the ice swept up Bucket's leg, forming a hold almost up to their knee.
The red ice was uncomfortably cold, already beginning to numb the dog's leg.

"You're going to have to try harder if you don't want to die, you know."

"Likewise." A force seemingly yanked the bat over right toward Bucket.

A wall of ice sprang up between the two in an attempt to catch the bat, one of their spears whistling around the side of the wall to make an attempt at striking Bucket's arm.

The dog tried to block the spear with another sword swing. The bat was being awkwardly dragged around the wall of ice.

The spear shifted around it just enough to nick Bucket's hand, swirling back around for another strike as the one Bucket had knocked away earlier swiped at the dog's other leg, the bat currently doing everything in their power to knock off the dog's concentration enough to stop being pulled.

Meanwhile, another wall of ice popped up against where the bat was being dragged, leading to them effectively being shoved safely against a corner.
The bat looked vaguely annoyed.

Bucket's concentration was broken for a moment as they focused on generating a protective wall of chains around themself.

The figure dropped off the wall of red ice, dusting off their cloak with a huff.
"Clever, but not nearly enough."
Their eyes honed in on Bucket once more.

The ice walls in front of them reshaped and advanced on the dog, one sliding itself up into a pillar to catch the dog's hands while the other skirted along the ground toward Bucket's unrestrained leg.

"I promise you, if I wanted you dead you'd be so by now." The bat's clothes were constricted tight as they were flung toward the approaching ice walls.

They growled in annoyance.
The ice going for Bucket's other leg stopped, now no more than a slippery patch on the grass, while two more - albeit much thinner - shaped up to cushion the bat.
Their body broke right through the first one, but stopped just barely on the next, several cracks forming in it from the impact.

Meanwhile, the pillar continued its pace and caught Bucket's wrists, freezing over them. 

The spears Bucket had been fighting against slowed and approached the dog.
One poked at their back while the other hovered right in front of their face.

"Not that it matters much." Their voice was muffled some by the ice, muzzle turned to the side to speak at all.
"Don't you want to live, Bucket? 
Apparently not, when you're holding back.
 
How disappointing."

"Then stop playing around." The dog's body rapidly cocooned in a mass of silk and chains, the mass of materials warding off the pillar from their body.

The spears pulled away, returning over to the bat as they dropped off the wall once more.
They stretched, squinting at the cocoon.
"You'll have to come out of there eventually. And when you do, I'll be here.
I can wait as long as you can."

After a while, the cocoon peeled away. The dog had transformed into a higher state, a mishmash of fabric and stitches, and teeth in odd places. 
"I'll be honest, I was hoping you'd get bored and leave..."

Their eyes went wide, but the expression didn’t read as fearful. The exact emotion on display was hard to place in the moment.
The bat laughed, showing their teeth again.
"How could I be bored? 
No need to insult yourself; you're nothing if not entertaining, Bucket."

A ten foot ice wall arose a few feet in front of the bat, spears at the ready behind it, the figure looking blurry through the thick, red ice.
"It's good to see you're stepping things up somewhat, but we both know you're still holding back."

Bucket blunted the ice wall with the flat end of their sword, making a large hole.

The bat raised an eyebrow, otherwise unflinching.
One spear flew straight through the hole, aiming for Bucket's arms, while another circled over the top, attempting to plunge straight down onto them from above.

The dog acrobatically jumped through the hole with tight precision, narrowly avoiding the spears as they did.

The bat still did not move.

Two of the spears hovering around them dove at Bucket while another circled back through the hole.

Bucket deflected the first two spears while taking the other one in the shoulder, unable to avoid the hit. Their eyes stayed honed in on the bat.

The spear in Bucket’s shoulder shot straight through, leaving a thin wound and dipping towards Bucket's hands.
Ice filled the wound, creeping across Bucket's torso.

The bat opened their arms.
"What's the matter? Lost your nerve?"

Suddenly, the bat was slammed repeatedly into the ground with frantic energy.
"I'm going to drain you out like a grape. Surrender."

The spear flicked through Bucket's wrists, red ice springing up from the small holes just as the ice on their torso creeped down the dog’s arms.
The cold masses joined in the middle and began to bulk up, weighing their limbs down heavier and heavier.
The rest of it made its way slowly up the dog's chin, encroaching towards their mouth.

The figure couldn't quite speak at the moment, but one of the spears hovered just in front of Bucket's face once more, as if threatening them.

The dog paused and held the bat in place for a moment. "I will take you with me. Call it off now and let me look at your injuries."

"Would you really, Bucket?"
The bat coughed. 

The ice continued, but its pace had slowed significantly.
"You're willing to die just to kill me? 
Come now..."

They looked up at Bucket with a smile, thin lines of blood trailing from their nostrils and several cuts on their face.
"...What would Chelsea think if she found out you'd died?"



"...Why do you know that?" Bucket's face frowned. "I don't know what you want. I'm tired and very confused. 
You're not an assassin because you've held back on chances to kill me. You claim not to be a bandit... I don't understand. 
Call this off and explain."

"Fine, but only if you do something for me."
The ice stilled for the moment, but didn't break away.

"I want a demonstration. And I have questions I'd like answered. Agree to those terms, and we--" 
They turned their head down to cough, wiping blood away from their muzzle as they looked back up at Bucket.
"...And we call this off."

"Please..." They placed the bat on the grass and loosened their grip.

The bat stood, looking shaky as they dusted themself off.

The red ice on Bucket's face fell away, but the rest remained.
"Now then, show me one of your illusions. The rest comes off after."

"I've been using them the entire time." 
The dog's appearance reverted. Visible scrapes, cuts, and bruises revealed that weren't there before made it clear Bucket hadn't quite avoided attacks nearly as well as things seemed. 
"I prefer a subtle touch with them."

The bat's eyes opened a little wider in surprise, before they smiled and laughed.
"Well done, then, if mildly disappointing."

The ice broke off and disappeared, the stranger looking like they were barely standing.

"They can get a little more extensive." The Bucket's appearance flickered to that of an old karacel hermit before changing right back. "I can do one other thing, if you allow me to place my hands on your shoulder for a moment."

"Oh, I'm aware. Feel free."
The bat lowered their arms.

The dog placed their hands down. With a glow of golden hue came the sensation of warmth. Pain faded quickly and wounds were patched up with ease.  "Don't move until I'm done. I still question why you know so much about me."

"Because I was tracking you."
Despite Bucket's warning, the bat gently raised their arm and touched Bucket's.
In a flash, the more severe wounds Bucket had suffered during the battle - such as the holes through their shoulder and wrists - closed up, but didn't quite heal fully.
The process was quick, but felt limited and messy. Most spots were still bleeding despite the dog feeling much more stable.

The bat now sported a grin miles wide.

Bucket blinked with surprise on their face. "You can do that too? Who are you exactly?"

"Toluca."

A hole miles deep opened up under Toluca and Bucket, wind felt on the canine’s face as a strong sensation of vertigo kicked in on instinct.

Bucket was unphased.

And just as it arrived, the illusion vanished momentarily, the bat looking incredibly pleased with themself.

"Did... Was this entire process simply to learn a few new tricks?" Bucket's knees were shaking with exhaustion. "Because if that's so, you simply could have asked."

Toluca similarly looked as if they might pass out at any moment.
"I'd say they're much more impressive than 'a few new tricks.' 
Besides, I doubt you would've demonstrated willingly if someone had approached you in the woods while you were deliberately hiding out. You would've thought I was a threat no matter what I said or did, so better to engage in a fight...”

The bat stopped to wipe more blood from their nose before continuing.

“...Then, either you notice I'm not going for the jugular and realize I'm not here to kill you, or you don't notice and give it your all so that I gain all your abilities anyways." 
“Either way...” They shrugged. 
“I get what I want.
More importantly, I got to see a scrap form in person for the first time, even if it was an illusion."

Toluca leaned in.
"That was your scrap form on display, wasn't it? 
I wouldn't think you'd have the foresight to come up with a fake one on the spot."

"It was exactly what you thought, fortunate for you I didn't give you a display of its proper abilities." Bucket sat down on the ground. "I really don't like using it."

"Why is that?" 
Toluca looked incredibly invested now as they sat next to Bucket on the grass.
"Is it painful?
Does it cause emotional stress?
Does the transformation take something out of you?
What would you say are its strengths and drawbacks?"

Bucket lifted up their sleeve to reveal their full arm, ringed with layers of off-colored fur like a tree. 
"It allows me to manipulate organic matter in quite an awful way. I can take parts from others to replace injuries, and place part of myself on someone else. As long as that part is attached to someone, should I choose so, I can monitor them, drain them for cells, and - should things get desperate enough - inflict a parasitic infection so horrific it becomes a liability to anyone within the same room. 
It's a grotesque bastardization of my healing abilities. I've had to use it more than a few times to keep people quiet, and I hate it."

Toluca studied their arm carefully, their crimson eyes moving up and down.
"Fascinating..."
The bat put a claw under their muzzle.
"How did you induce it the first time? Is the process different for subsequent transformations?"

"The first time it was a case of reaching a massive emotional height, with a lot of preparation...  It gets easier after enough times transforming. 
The abilities I gained during it; I just knew I had them and I felt a little repulsed at myself with how terrifying they were, but they've come in handy. I do not think that's something you'd like me to demonstrate for you."

They looked away, putting a claw to their chin for a few moments as they deeply considered the offer.

They turned back to Bucket.
"I would like to see it, but it causes you distress and I wouldn't be able to copy any of those abilities regardless. 
They're most likely tied to the form. That's my assumption, at the very least."

"So, better not. 
Wouldn't want you thinking I was heartless. You wouldn't answer my questions if you did!" 
They smirked and laughed at their own 'joke.'
"More to the point..." They stood up. "...I need to leave as soon as I can, or I may pass out on the way back. 
But, I do have something for you first."

They pulled a brass key from their pocket and tossed it to the dog, who quickly caught it.

"Head south from here about eight and a half miles. 
When you start seeing marked trees, follow them. 
Look for a large stone covered in yellow moss. It covers the locked trapdoor of a shelter.
It's the least I could do, seeing as..."
Toluca nodded in the direction of the cabin, and its many holes.
"I may be back with more questions, though, just so you’re aware."

"You had this all planned out from the start. You considered all angles and factors that would come of this." 
Bucket picked up their sword and leaned against it. 
"I suppose I can answer more, and can I assume a few inquire about accessing a form of your own?”

"You assume correctly.”

“I can't guarantee it'd be a overnight process."


“If not an overnight process, I doubt it would take much longer. I'm something of an expert in all of this, as I'm sure you saw!
Before that, however, I do need to make it back to where I'm staying. 
I could really... use..."
The bat was wobbling on their feet, knees looking as if they were about to cave.

"...Hell..."
Toluca toppled over onto the grass.

"Do you need someone to carry you back?" 
The dog reached down and offered a hand.

The bat did not respond. 
Toluca was out cold.

Bucket let out a small sigh and lifted Toluca over their shoulder.
"Thankfully, you provided directions to the promised shelter before passing out. 

We'll rest up over there. 

You certainly did make today interesting."

[ThreadLurkingComorant]

The Angel's Egg - A One Shot  CW: Mentions of injury. 

 

---

 

You're in the middle of an unfamiliar place, trying to scramble together your memories of everything leading up to it. You were in the middle of something incredibly important and now you're here. You can't remember it in full detail. 

 You feel bits of yourself not quite fading, but certainly not where they belong. A name is on the tip of your tongue. The cool breeze coming down from the hills around you is fresh and delicious but distracting you right now. You need to focus. 

 You were protecting people, evacuating them from some kind of unnatural disaster. There were many models like you around but you were doing something particularly special. The people you were helping out of there were gods maybe.... you were designed for this express purpose and now that you've committed it's terrifying where you could have ended up.

 It takes all your energy to come up with cohesive thoughts right now, and any time you even think about resting you're nearly launched back to square one. You need something to cling onto. 

 You needed to buy time for Apollo and Mori. Taking the fall was absolutely part of the plan.. Is this the afterlife? Some kind of twisted colorful blunder of landscapes you were surrounded by in life? No that doesn't make any lick of sense, you weren't designed to have a soul.
  You were meant to be perfect fodder for angels. 
 Why are you feeling so much fear right now?

 Maybe because people were nice to you. Maybe because you want to go back to them but... you're not entirely sure you can. 

 A name, you need a name so bad right now. No you have one, you absolutely do.
 Dorothy. That's what you were called, Dorothy. 

 Oh god you're fading, melting away, the land is claiming you so fast. You need to resist, think about how you got here, think about what you have to do still. 

 You were talking to Apollo, he was off on one of his rants about the moon. He needed to go there for something but he hasn't had any luck.
 Mori was talking to you about meeting up with some of their friends after work. You've done that a few times before and they're always pretty good to you. Last time the bunch of you went and bought funnel cake. It's not particularly good for you but it's sweet.

People were infected, they all were being slowly claimed by the great corruption into a reanimated hivemind of sorts. They lined up and melded together, so many of them just merged as one into an orb in the sky. 

 No, this isn't some far away world, you're still here. Every metal fiber of your body's outer shell aches with intensity. If you're still here, someone bailed you out. What were you doing that fucked you up so hard?


 You look down at your hands, there's a rich blood-like fluid with a ghastly glow all over. That's not yours, whatever you were taking on you managed to hurt, pissed off pretty bad. It's probably a miracle you're alive right now... and if you're alive that means Mori and Apollo are probably safe too. They're both stronger than you after all, right? They had enough time to bail, you going down was always something that they must have known could happen so they probably didn't stay behind. No, you told them to go, you told them to not look back. This was your call.

 Those lights in the sky, those aren't stars. They're people, and they're being drawn toward the now giant merger in the sky. It's an egg, the egg of something larger and more terrifying than you could possibly take on by yourself. You watch it, fixate on it as you try to hold out..... 

 You see it start to hatch and you can't look away. It's like a nightmare you can't wake up from. 

 You cling onto the name you were given by those nice people, Dorothy.

 You hope they find you, come back for you when they're safe.

 You can rest for now, whatever happens next is out of your hands..... 

 

[SHIVERS]

Convertible - 2020
Rin + Shivers, Patchwork Kernel
CW: serious injury, self-harm, breakdown
Pepper helps an injured opponent.

---

---

---

Pepper threw the subsequent match and hopped out of the arena.

It didn't take them long to find her, out in the hall.
They hurried over. "Woahwoah, hey- You can't walk on that. I'm sorry I- But, look, I can get help."

"It's fine, ssseriously..." The ruffneck staggered, barely having made any distance and hugging the wall.

Pepper stepped around in front of her, halting her progress.
"It's not fine, I wasn't even trying-" They shook their head.
"I can get you help, I know a doctor. Same one that patches me up. 
Let me help."

"I don't need a doctor, kid." She tried to scoot around, wobbling in the process.

"Not a kid. And I busted your leg.
I... felt it." They pulled out their phone. "Gimme a sec. I'll call 'em."

"You're fun size, close enough." She let out a huff, flopping entirely against the wall. "Fine, but I'm not paying a dime. I don't want to deal with con jobs today."

They rolled their eyes.
"Well, at least I'm fun."
The next fight started up just as Pepper pulled out their phone, noise of the announcer and crowd pouring down in through the hallway.

"Here, hang on. Let's get out of here first."
The pockitt stood beside her, offering an arm. "You can use me as support. But if you make another short joke, I'm dropping you." They smiled.

"N-no promises." She leaned over onto them, heavier than she looked.

Pepper grunted from the weight immediately, already straining. "Oo... kay. Let's... get you out of here."
They made their way down the hall, slowly but surely.

"Why do you feel a need to help me out, anyway? Like, no offense, but this is d-dirty money. You're supposed to take the win and bail."

"I wasn't doing it for the money." They said simply. "And I didn't mean to hit you. Not like that."

"So that makes you okay with dragging around a complete stranger who almost beat your ass?"

"Pfft. 'Almost beat my ass.' Uh-huh, sure." The exit was in sight just ahead.
Carrie could feel the pockitt shaking as their muscles strained.
"That was one-sided and you know it."

She tried to put a little less weight on them, crystals brushing against their ear. "How do you know I wasn't sandbagging?"

"I've had plenty of people do that with me before. Kinda comes with the territory of being this, y'know, 'fun.'
I'd know if you were. You weren't.
...Not til that last hit."
They turned their head up to her.
"You leaned into that one."

"Had to give them a good show before I lost."

"Didn't think I would hit that hard, huh?"

"Oh, no, you gave me pleeeenty of warning on that front."

"Riiight, right, I gotcha. So you just-" 
They stopped to push the door open, exhaling from exertion.
"...wanted a shattered femur. Sure. Makes sense."

"Doesn't everybody, at some point in their lives? I don't see why it's so weird."

They chuckled just a little, shaking their head.
"Did you drive a car here? It'd be a better place to lay you down than just outside."

"Yeah, parked a little ways from here...turn left."

They turned with a huff, pressing on.
"Tell me which one when you see it."

"Convertible. Right ahead."

Pepper made a face the second they saw the car.
"Yeah. Showing up to an underground fight ring in that.
Using the illegal fight money you risk your life for to... buy expensive cars. Naturally."

"Don't knock the car, it's not even mine."

"Stolen, or something?"
They tried to open the back door, finding it locked.
"Please tell me you still got the keys on you, at least." 
The pockitt was barely standing by this point.

"Relax-" She rifled through her pocket and tossed the keys out, barely able to catch them. "It's my dad's."

"Stolen?" They repeated.

"Borrowed."

"Stolen. Gotcha."
Once she unlocked the door, they leaned her in, helping her hang onto the door and slowly slide into the car.
"Yeah just... lay there a second. Try not to move that leg at all." Pepper pulled out their phone.

She flopped back onto the seat, letting out a deep exhale. "It's not stealing if he knows I have it."

"Either way, it was stupid to drive this thing to a place like this. No clue how it's even still here."
They scrolled down to Sasha in their phone, thumb hovering over the button.
Pepper rubbed their temple.

"...God, this is stupid."

"If you're gonna snitch on me to some doctor, do it now or let me figure it out on my own."

"Oh believe me, they already know I do this kinda stuff, but that's the last thing you should be worried about right now.
Maybe focus on that pretty important bone in your leg probably being in pieces."
With a sigh, they tapped the call button, waiting as it rang.

"Eh. I'd just wait in a park or something for it to get better."

"A park- You'd--" They let the sentence trail off with a sigh.
"Just... one sec."
Pepper stepped away and started talking on their phone, giving Carrie plenty of time to think.

It's not like she'd die or anything. A broken leg wasn't the worst in the world, and she'd had way worse before. This was nothing compared to everything else she'd had to deal with in the ring over the years- but, she had to admit: that pockitt punched like a freight train, and even after gauging those heavy hits before throwing the fight, she wasn't really ready for the sheer impact of the tiny fighter's fist.

They stepped back around to the car a couple of minutes later, looking oddly shaken up.
"Hey, look, uh... are-
Do you think you'd be okay here? By yourself?
Til the doctor gets here. I mean I know it's-
Like..."
Pepper trailed off, unable to find the right words.

"Lemme guess, you're in trouble?"

They were looking off in the distance.
"They're just my doctor. They are pissed at me, though.
And I don't uh... really wanna... be here for that, when they get here.
But I don't want to leave you here with..." They briefly glanced over and vaguely gestured in the general direction of her leg.
"...Yeah."

"Like I said, I'll live. Bail if you gotta."

Pepper faced her this time, making eye contact; guilt and concern mixed up in their expression.
"You sure? And I mean really sure?
You've already lied to me with your whole... 'oh yeah sure I can definitely just limp out of here on my broken leg by myself', so... 
...don't exactly trust you to tell me if you'll really be okay or not."

She gave them a dead serious stare. "I wasn't lying."

They rolled their eyes.
"Not what I mean. I'm sure you're tough or whatever and that's great, but nobody's a superhero with their leg in pieces.
And this place isn't safe; inside or outside. Anybody might've come in and-
And I mean, anyone still could mess with you if I just leave you here by yourself, especially in this kind of car, so I don't see how--"

"Take a closer look at my leg, fun size."

"Don't call me-" They huffed, peering down at her leg, hoping maybe the blow wasn't as bad as it felt before.

The bone was jutting out, just enough for it to be very clearly, not actually bone.

"Oh god, I-" They winced at the sight for a second before taking a closer look.
"Is... what is that?"

Upon closer inspection, it appeared to be a kind of pink-tinted crystal, vaguely in the shape of a normal ruffneck femur. "The bone that you broke. Does that look like a normal break to you?"

"No, but it... I'm guessing whatever it is means it isn't gonna be as serious of an injury, but...
I mean it still hurts doesn't it? Like... that looks-" They rubbed their face with one of their paws, staring down at the crystal bone.
"Do you have, just, anything at all for the pain? Or I could like, go get some. I think there was a gas station a ways up the road, I could... get you something."

"I don't know if you realize this-" She made wobbly finger guns. "But I am high as balls right now, and I baaaarely feel it. You're gonna worry yourself sick over nothing."

"High as-
I can't just leave you out here, while-"
Pepper bit their thumb.
"Please, isn't there anything I can... do to help? At all?"

She tossed the keys at them. "Go to the glovebox, passenger side. Obviously."

They fumbled a bit but caught them and delicately shut the backseat door.
The passenger door opened and they climbed in.
Pepper's head popped out into Carrie's view from behind the passenger seat.
"What am I looking for?"

"Pack of gum. Not the mint one, the fruit one. Yellow box. Like, banana yellow."

"...Gum?"

"Yeah?"

They looked at her, then popped the glovebox and retrieved the gum, handing her the whole pack.
"Does this like... help with your leg? Some kinda weird pain med or something?"

She took out a piece and ripped off the wrapper with her teeth, spitting it to the side before popping the whole stick in her mouth. "You asked if you could help, and gum helps me keep my head clear. It's one of those, like, stim things."

Their ears visibly drooped an inch or so.
"...That's all?"

"Don't knock the power of this gum."

They righted themself in the seat, taking a deep breath and sliding their paw down their head.
Pepper sat in silence for a little while.

Carrie could hear paper rustling and movement.
Soon after, the pockitt's arm rounded the corner, holding a yellow sticky note with numbers written on it, just barely visible thanks to the dim overhead light.
"If something happens, call me. I'll head straight back. You have a phone, right?"

"Yep. Probably gonna call my stepmom after this doctor friend of yours patches me up, because wow, you know what, I don't think I should be driving like this."

Pepper only frowned at the joke, looking away.
They closed the glovebox.
"...I doubt it makes a difference, but I'm really sorry about your leg.
I know you took the hit on purpose, but I was also swinging harder than I needed to.
I was... out of it.
Barely even remember any of it. 
It's not remotely okay for me to go into fights like that. ...Could've hurt you way worse than just a broken leg.
Wasn't even-" 

They shook their head. 
"Doesn't matter.
Sorry, again." They hopped out.

"Hey. Hey, before you go- ah, shit." She exhaled again, blowing her hair out of her face. "Hope they don't get a complex or something."

"Oh I'm sure it's way too late for that."
The pockitt stuck their tiny arm between the seat and the side of the car, jingling the keys over by Carrie.
"Almost forgot."

"Right. Keeeeys." She floundered around for them, missing once before grabbing them for real.

Pepper let them go.
"Be careful. Don't die or anything.

...Also the doc's name is Sasha.
They look like a strawberry. You'll know 'em when you see 'em."
The door shut, footfalls on gravel trailing off.

"A strawberry...that'll be a first."

A few minutes later, a car pulled slowly through the parking lot, stopping next to Carrie's car.
The vehicle was difficult to make out through the tinted windows.
Someone got out, the figure only coming into view once they rounded the corner and knocked on the backdoor window with their knuckle.
They were a red selected hybrid who happened to sport white spots.

"Door's unlocked." She made sure to speak up and point at the handle.

They opened the door and right away looked around to all the other seats in the car.
"Hey. Sasha.
Did Pepper already leave?"

"Yeah, they bailed hard. You scared 'em real good."

The snake pinched the bridge of their snout and closed their eyes.
They inhaled, then exhaled, and opened their eyes.

Sasha looked down at the wound, seeming unphased.
"It's Carrie, right? How's your pain?"

"Too high to feel pretty much any of it, but there is a bit of an edge sneaking in."

Sasha looked up at her.
"High on what?"

"Not any shit you'd know about, probably."

"Carrie, if you want my help, then I need to know all the details. 
I can't give you anything to help with the pain unless I know it won't interact badly with whatever you took."

"Eastite, rare variant that doesn't show up in nature. Only one known source in existence."

Sasha made eye contact.
"...Where did it come from?"

She tapped the crystals on her neck.

"You should be careful with those."
Sasha pulled a pill bottle out of their hoodie pocket and retrieved two pills, handing them over to Carrie.

"What're these?"

"For the pain. Low dosage, nothing addictive.
Shouldn't cause any issues with eastite, especially at low strength.
But they should take the edge off."

"Hold on a sec." She shoved her hand down below the seat and dug out the gum wrapper from earlier. "Gotta spit this out first."

"Take your time.
After you take those, we need to get you to a hospital. I brought crutches if you want me to take you in my car, or we can go in yours.
Your pick."

"No hospital."

They leaned back into the car.
"Why?"

"I can fix the leg myself and then call my stepmom."

"...Even if you can move the crystals, that's a delicate procedure.
And... I can't imagine how painful that'd be. Even with the medicine, I'm... really not sure how much it'd help.
We could get you to a hospital, and make sure it gets fixed right. I don't see why that's a bad thing."

"Are you like, from here?"

"No, but I don't see the relevance.
If you're talking about medical bills, I can pay them.
I'm not really sure how hospitals work here, but... it wouldn't take long to research. I can help."

"One, I can pay my own bills. Two, it's relevant because the hospitals here suck ass. They don't know how to treat regular people, let alone god kids." She huffed.

"Well... I'm not a surgeon, but I can be here for you operating on yourself, at least.
I have stronger pain meds, too, if it comes down to it.
And I'm here. I'm not going to leave you to do this alone."
They crouched down a little, giving Carrie a smile.
"Why don't we call your stepmom? We can get you back to your place... or her place. Anywhere that's safe for you to do this."

"See, now that's more sensible. You got a good head on your shoulders." She shoved her hand into her other pocket, getting out her phone and trying to dial a number, goofing a few times. "Fucking...phone. Hey, Stylo? Yeah, it's Carrie. I need to crash at your place for a bit. No, I'm fine." She sighed, a muffled voice clearly chewing her out on the other end. "It's just a broken leg, for god's sake. You know I've had worse."

Sasha stood back up and leaned against the car outside, wary of anyone potentially coming over in the meantime.

"I'll only be the night- yes, you can tell Dad. Just say we're having, like, I don't know, girl's night or something. Yeah. Yeah, I have someone to drive me. No, they're not a serial killer- you know I could take one of those anyway, right?"

The snake's eyes widened just a little when overhearing the conversation, feeling awkward.
They stepped a few feet away from the car, intending to give her some privacy.

"Yeah, alright...it's fine. I'll be fine. Bye." She closed her phone with a snapping motion. "Okay, c'mon back, I'm done having her chew me out."

Sasha stepped back over.
"Alright, which car-..." They stopped and looked over the convertible.
"We can take your car. I don't think it'd last sitting out here."
They opened the door and got into the front seat, clasping on their seatbelt as they looked back at Carrie. "Got the address? And the keys?"

"Yeah, it's not too far from here." She tossed the keys at the front seat. "North on Main, left turn onto Granite. Two next rights after that."

Sasha caught them.
"Try and buckle yourself in as best you can."
They started up the car.

She managed to drag herself up into a slight sitting position, just barely managing to buckle up. "Easy on the gas, this thing likes to go fast."

"I'm gonna be going slow either way, want to make sure your leg moves as little as possible."

Sasha carefully pulled out of the gravel lot, finally on the road.

It didn't take them long to bring it up.
"...Pepper told me you took the hit on purpose."

"Yeah. Happens."

"Why?"

"Maybe I just wanted to see how hard they hit."

"I don't think so."

"What do you think it is, then. You're a doctor, right?"

"I'm not that kind of doctor, but it seems like you were trying to hurt yourself."

"I heal quick. It's not going to be a problem."

Sasha's concern wasn't hidden at all; their voice dropped in volume and took on a soft and serious tone.
"Why did you want to hurt yourself?"

"Dunno."

"...Carrie, I know you don't... know me, but... you can talk to me about it."

"No, as in, I literally don't know. I just get out there and throw fights, because some part of me thinks it's the right thing to do for some goddamn reason. That's all there is to it, and in the long run-" She threw her hands up, just enough to be seen from the rearview mirror. "I heal up fine. So it's not a problem."

"...Why go through all the trouble? Coming out to a place like this, getting in the ring, then letting yourself get hurt and throwing the fight?"

"Why not? It works, and if I don't throw the fight, I get paid."

"Do you need the money?"

"Nope, but it's nice having cash I can spend a little more guilt free. After all, like- you win a fight like that, you earned it. And I always throw for whenever a scrub comes in. I don't want to wail on people who can't throw a punch back."

"Pepper seemed like that to you?"

"Oh, nah. They were gonna win either way."

"...Did you want them to hurt you?"

"Guess I wanted to see how it felt to take one of those punches head on."

"And you don't know why you wanted that?"

"Just popped into my head and I did it."

Sasha was silent for a few moments.

"You know, you remind me a lot of Pepper."

"Yeah? How?"

"Neither of you are fighting for good reasons, and neither of you seem to care about your own well-being."

"I mean, I can't argue there. My reasons suuuuck, and I can't really bring myself to give a shit. But it's fine in the end. "

"It's not fine." They snapped despite themself, pulling back their tone immediately.
"...People care about you.
You don't deserve to do that to yourself. You don't deserve that hurt."
They looked up into the rear view mirror.
"...Neither of you do."

She was pointedly avoiding eye contact. "I mean, you don't even know me. Who's to say what I deserve?"

They didn't stare, turning their gaze back to the road.
"I know I don't know you, but I still know that much.
You should try to learn it yourself."

"Maybe when I'm less blitzed out of my mind. Can baaarely think- stop, this is it on the left."

The car stopped slowly, and Sasha got out.
The snake pulled the crutches from the side seat with them, and opened the back door, offering a claw.
"Ready?"

She took their hand, a lot more careful than earlier. "Yeah. Let's get this over with."

Sasha was delicate, helping Carrie up and placing the crutches in her hands.
They made sure to hold on until she was ready.
"Got 'em?"

Carrie did her best to keep herself up, nodding. A blue crystalline figure stepped out onto the porch, arms crossed. The house itself was nice, suburban- not matching the new arrival's crisp, expensive looking business suit at all.

Sasha stayed right by Carrie, keeping an arm hovering behind her just in case.
They looked up at the figure.
"Hey. Carrie's gonna be okay. I'm Sasha."

"Stylo. I'd shake your hand, but… let's wait until things are handled." She opened the door and made way for the two of them, keeping a close eye on both.

Sasha nodded.
"It's appreciated either way. I'm sorry about all of this." The snake put all their focus back on Carrie, making sure not to let her fall as they made their way inside.

The house was cluttered but clean, lots of little art pieces everywhere- but everything had its place, clearly and deliberately positioned. Most of them were abstract sculptures, ranging from tiny knick knacks to a centerpiece on the table. "Couch is big enough for this, I already laid down a blanket."

The snake was already on their way over with Carrie, letting her get down easy.
They breathed a short sigh once she made it safely.

With that, they finally turned their attention to Stylo, holding out a claw.
"It's nice to meet you. Wish it was under better circumstances."

She took it, her height suddenly apparent as she loomed over. "Likewise. I'm sorry that you had to find her like this, I've been trying-"  She shot her stepdaughter a glare. "-to get her to knock this bad habit off."

Sasha breathed through their nose, holding eye contact for a little bit longer, just thinking.
"Stylo, could I talk with you outside?"

"By all means." She stepped forward to ruffle Carrie's hair, getting an exasperated sigh. "You stay put."

Sasha stepped outside, walking out a few paces down the driveway, facing away from Stylo.
Their claw went up under their chin, and they bit their lip.

She closed the door behind them, making sure not to catch her tail in the door. "Go ahead and say whatever you need to say, as harsh as you need to be."

They turned around.
"Is Carrie... seeing a therapist?"

"We've tried- I mean, I've tried. Her father means well, but he doesn't know a single thing when it comes to mental healthcare."

"She's old enough to make her own decisions, but does she just not want to go to one?"

"More that it's incredibly to find any sort of healthcare for people in her position. I'm not sure if you picked up on this, but she's not your average ruffneck."

"Are therapists here not willing to see her, then?"

"Oh, willing, yes. Able to get to the actual problems? No. Carrie's willing to do therapy as well, but finding therapy for, well..." She wasn't able to dance around it. "A god's half-mortal child, that's immensely difficult. Gods are already without a lot of resources, and it's made infinitely worse for hybrid kids."

Sasha looked to the side, seemingly scanning their own thoughts.
"I don't really... see what the problem is.
If her therapists aren't able to handle things like that, then they don't sound like good therapists.
I can potentially set her up with someone over the phone, even, if that'd help.
Because I really think she needs it, especially if she's willing.
It's not just the fights."

"I know she needs it, and...we've seen some great therapists, ones that can help with most of it- but none of them can really cut into something like this. If there's someone out there, I intend on finding them, but..."

"I can help."

"I'd rather not involve you more than I already have- I appreciate it, don't get me wrong, but this is a family issue."

They shook their head, almost cutting Stylo off.
"With all due respect- things are worse than probably you realize.
...That broken leg she has right now, she let herself take that hit on purpose.
She told me as much.
She said she does it fairly often, and tonight it escalated to..." They shook their head, whole body trembling visibly.
The snake looked at the ground, then met her gaze again.
"It could be worse next time.
This isn't something that can wait."

"...you're right."

"Are you willing to let me help, then?"

"We'll see. I'm afraid I don't exactly trust easily, and I'll only accept help on a practical standpoint. If it gets too personal, I'll ask you to step back."

"Oh, I... didn't mean...
I'm not a therapist. But I do know of some. A lot of them take appointments by phone.
I'm from Idyth, and that's where the clinics I know of are.
I could try setting her up with some until she gets a good fit.
...It might take a while, but it'll be worth it, even if it only helps a little."
They looked to the side, thinking, then glanced back at Stylo.
"...And if Carrie does need anyone to talk to beyond that, I can do that, too.
I want to help. Any way I can."

"That's a long way from here."

"I know. 
Like I said, they'll usually take phone appointments.
But I could also help look somewhere closer to where she lives.
There's a lot of options. She doesn't have to do it by herself; the two of you don't."

"I'll consider it. Phone appointments would probably be best for her anyway...she may not look it, but she has a lot of anxiety about being outside. Unless, well." She made a face. "She's under the influence."

"I can help her find the right people for that, not a problem at all.
Do you want my number?"

"Mm, and I'll give you mine as well. Do you have a pen and paper?

"I have my phone."
They pulled it out of their pocket and went to the contacts.
'PEPPER' showed as the most recent call.
Sasha's expression wilted, just enough to be noticeable.

"Something wrong?"

They shook their head. "Nope. I'm good."
They tapped the new contact button, the pair exchanging numbers in just a few moments.
"Alright, are you okay with driving me back to my car?
Carrie offered, but I'm not sure if she asked you.
If not, I can walk. It isn't too far."

"No, I'll drive. It's the least I can do." She jingled Carrie's keys, having snatched them from her stepdaughter while she wasn't looking. "I assume you want shotgun."

Sasha nodded, breathing a quick sigh.
The snake looked exhausted, as if they'd been holding themself up just long enough to make sure things went okay.
They climbed into the car.

Stylo pushed the seat back before climbing in, trying to fit in as best she could. "Normally I'd put the top up, but...I figure we have things to talk about, if you're going to work with me on this."

They nodded.
"That's fine, I can answer any questions you might have."

She got the car started and pulled out slowly, making sure to look both ways. "How did you find Carrie, again?"

They took a deep breath.
"The person who caused the injury is a friend of mine.
They got Carrie out of the ring and helped her to her car, then called me to come make sure to get her home safe."

"And they didn't stick around."

Sasha shook their head.
"I.. think they left because I was coming."

"Did they have reason to?" She kept her tone even, not accusatory in the slightest.

They looked at the floor.
"...They weren't supposed to be fighting in places like that anymore.
Myself, and their other friends, talked with them and they agreed they wouldn't.
...When they called me to ask for my help, I snapped at them.
They probably left because they felt... too guilty to face me after that. 
Them leaving could've put Carrie in danger.
I'm sorry. It was my fault, I should've thought that through. 
I don't really have an excuse."

"It's not your fault that they felt guilty. They were doing something they shouldn't have, and it's not on you that they broke a promise."

"Doesn't change that I could've thought through things better."

"Mm, but anyone can say that about pretty much anything. You did the right thing and stuck it out regardless, to help someone you didn't even know. Not many people are willing to do that."

"I wasn't going to turn my back on someone like that, and I think most people would've done the same. 
I don't really feel good knowing-"
They shook the train of thought away, lifting their head back up.
"Sorry.
This isn't your problem, and you've had enough to deal with tonight already. You don't need to worry about me."
The snake took another breath. 
"But I do appreciate what you said."

"It's nothing. I'm only saying the truth, at the very least how I see it."

"Definitely appreciated."
They swiftly switched topics, undoubtedly trying to divert attention away from what they were thinking about.

"Did you have any more questions? About what happened, or about finding a therapist, or anything, really.
I'm here to help."

"About this Idyth therapy thing...what if a crisis happens? They'd be so far away."

"They'd be able to contact medical professionals within the area if it was... something serious to the point that it required physical attention here. 
Same as any therapist.
There are also crisis lines that they usually go over first session, in case the therapist isn't available at the time."

"Carrie doesn't do well with crisis lines, we've tried that much. She thinks they're...impersonal."

"She might be able to get referred out somewhere closer by, too.
Her therapist can probably answer that question better than I could, though.
...I can also be available in the moment, if she needs someone to talk to, but I'd assume she'd be more comfortable calling you, or a friend."

"She's never been the best at making friends, unfortunately...but I'll bring it up with her, see if she'd be comfortable with that."

They nodded, looking straight ahead through the windshield. "I'm happy to help however I can."

"And what is it that you do, again? As a job. No offense, but… I can tell you're not from around here."

"None taken. I'm a doctor.
That's why my friend called me out to help Carrie."

"And does your friend work with you?"

They smiled and puffed air out of their nostrils. 
"You could say that.
...They're technically one of my patients. I get called in whenever they get hurt."

"Sounds like you've been riding together for some time now."

"It hasn't been too long, but I've been helping them - all of them, there's a group of five... technically four - whenever they get hurt.
Which is... often enough for me to be worried."

"You have any plans to talk things out with your friend after this, then?"

"...Are you sure you want to know about all this?
If you're worried about me, I'm--"

"I'm just curious."

"...I want to, but I'm expecting them to avoid my calls.
...Worst case scenario: they may already be out fighting somewhere else now, and there's nothing I can really do about it."

"And what will you do if that's the case?"

"That they're ducking my calls or that they're out fighting?"

"Either, really."

"Can't do anything about the fighting.
Doubt there's much I can do if they're avoiding me, either. I could try calling another one of our friends, but if they just won't talk to me there's..."
They stopped, going silent for a moment before they continued.
"Not... much I can do. 
With any of it."

"Has this kind of fight happened before?"

"I wouldn't call it a fight. They don't want to talk to me because they feel guilty about what happened, and don't want to deal with that.
That's what I'm guessing from our phonecall, anyways, they didn't say much."

"Well, whatever it is- has it happened before?"

"A couple of times. 
Not this bad, usually.
This is different. 
...Not... just that they hurt someone else badly this time, but... 
...they aren't doing well."

"Then you'll have to work extra hard to make it okay again- and so will they."

They shook their head ‘no’.
"It's not from me.
Something is... setting them off.
They wouldn't be out fighting this much unless something was getting to them, and it's been like this since they got to Taverne."
Sasha put their claw slightly over their mouth, staring blankly out the window.
"They're from Solitude, they told me once, so I'm guessing it's bad memories coming back.
But I'm sure they wouldn't tell me if I asked. And asking at all could just make it worse, but they would never talk to me or anyone else, otherwise.
So I don't know if I should try to ask about it, or if I should even risk pressing it considering they could just break contact again at that point; if they even decide to talk with me again in the first place, after everything with this- 
and-
I'm... Sorry.
I'm worried. I could've just said I was worried. That's all."

"Did it help to put it into words?"

Sasha seemed annoyed at themself for even getting into it.
"Thank you, for... trying to help. 
I'll be alright.
Last thing you need right now is to be worrying about me."

"I don't mind, I'm the one who asked in the first place. I wouldn't have bothered if I wasn't genuinely interested in hearing out the situation."

"I can handle it.
And I'm sure Pepper- ...I'm sure my friend will be okay.
I just hope I can get them to stay in their hotel instead of going out like this."

"Well...pass on my thanks. They helped my stepdaughter out as well, and while I wish they stuck around, I refuse to let their help go uncredited."
She paused for a moment.
"Even if they were the reason her bone was broken in the first place."

"I can let them know next time I talk with them.
...Thank you, by the way. For being there for Carrie, and for being so understanding with all of this.
In my job, I see a lot of kids with parents who don't seem to care that much.
I know Carrie isn't a kid, but I'm still glad to know that she's in good hands with you."

"Thank you, for saying that. I don't think I'm exactly the ideal mother, but...I try. She deserves that much." She slowed the car, pulling up to Sasha's. "That yours?"

"Yup," they nodded, acknowledging the car-shaped hunk of junk as theirs.

The snake got out of the car, turning to talk with Stylo.
"If you or Carrie needs anything, let me know, okay?
And tell her she can keep the crutches."

"I'll pass it on." She tapped the steering wheel a bit, trying to figure out a good farewell. "You take care out there- and good luck with your friend."

"You too, and I appreciate it.
Be safe."
With that, they shut the door, waving to Stylo as she drove off.

Sasha waited until she was completely out of sight to unlock their car and get in.

They crossed one arm over their middle, using the other to hold up their head, propping it on their knuckles.
The snake rubbed their forehead with their thumb, pressing in deeper as time passed.
They sank deeper down, starting to curl up in the seat.
Both hands switched to cover up their face, squeezing, as if to force back tears.

Only a few escaped, rolling down their cheek as they sniffled.
They were quickly wiped away, Sasha inhaling deep, 
then exhaling.
Repeating the process over and over.

The snake leaned back against their seat with a final exhale, their eyes turning to look out the window.

Well past the trees surrounding the parking lot, the sun was starting to rise, enveloping everything ahead in a dull, blue glow.

They stared. 

Their mind drifted, just for a few moments, only to the view ahead of them.




Sasha pulled out their phone, navigating to their contacts.

‘PEPPER’.

Their gaze hung on the name, looking through it.

The snake straightened up in their seat with a sigh, and hit the call button.

[skinstealer]

Unclassified Symptoms - 2020
Ringor Mortis, Vest Party (Pre-Sleepwalker)
CW: familial abuse, death, ableism 
Philly tries to block out the noise.

---

Their voices are coming through the walls again. Bickering over god knows what again, possibly Nana, possibly money, probably both. They’ll keep pretending that his opinion on any of this didn’t matter, and that he was just their stupid kid.

Philly buries himself deeper in his book, flipping the page and pressing his ears back, trying to block out the sound. They’d be at it for hours, and likely wouldn’t even notice their son staying up later than allowed, reading about things they hated.  It’s ironic to him, that the only quiet time to himself he gets is when they’re too busy being at each other’s throats. It’s ironic that in a weird way, he’s grateful that something, anything, gives him these moments, even if it means he has to pretend that his parents don’t find every reason to argue. 

He’d say that as long as it wasn’t about him, he’s fine with it, but that’d be a lie- one he’s told himself many times over the course of his life. The petty squabbles over budget were something he could live with, but things like now, where it involves someone he loves just as much as they do, that’s when it really hits home just how little he matters to them. They’d been talking about Nana for weeks now, always after they assumed he was in bed and not even bothering to check if his light was on. He knew she was sick, but they’d never let him come with them to the hospital, with no explanation why. 

At this point, Philly knows why. Nana’s dying, he’s certain of it. He can only pick up so much through the walls, but what he can hear in their more heated moments is nothing good, no good news, always talking about plans of what to do, how this is going to impact their lives, who’s going to get the money, everything swirling around his head in a horrible blur. It’s never about how Nana is actually doing, how she feels, what she’s able to do and what she isn’t. It’s always so clinical and practical and he hates that, he wants to burst in and tell them to fuck logic and practicality and the numbers. He wants to scream and tell them to think with their hearts for once…

But he knows how that would go.

He’d be sent to his room and told off for being “volatile”, and shamed for not minding his own business, for eavesdropping, for being inappropriate, as always. They would threaten to take his books away and stop letting him go out into the woods on his own, just straight to his apprenticeship and straight back home. No detours, no adventures allowed. They’d call it another one of his “mood swings” and blame puberty or something, despite the fact that he’s old enough to know that the way his head works isn’t fucking that. He doesn’t know what it is, but he’s read enough about biology to know that going from crying into his pillow to being unable to sleep from too many thoughts filling his head isn’t just puberty.

He’s tried to show them books and pamphlets, asking to see a doctor, anything, just to see what’s up with him. He doesn’t even want to assume anything, but he wants answers more than anything, for himself and the world and what to do, for how to handle his Nana dying when he can’t even see her. It’s all too much and he tries to gather his thoughts up into a tidy pile, praying that he can get them untangled before he starts to slip. Crying would definitely let them know he’s awake past bedtime, and he can’t deal with the idea of them turning their anger on him right now.

Fuck this. He just wants to read his book.

Philly takes a deep breath and turns the page, not having even processed anything on the previous one. He’s already read this book a million times over, the pages worn around the edges- but it’s one of his favorites. ”Horrors and the Horrified”, one in his vast collection of books on the supernatural...at least, what his parents call that, anyway. Horrors seem just as natural as anything else on the planet to him, not that he’d ever seen one. Sure, mutation could be deadly, but...from what he’s read, it doesn’t seem like they’re in control of it at all. 

He glosses down the page before stumbling onto an illustration of a parody, and his breath hitches. Horrors in disguise, immortal mimics that took the form of children...how could anyone think the worst of horrors when hearing something like that? So many of the stories he reads talk about how it’s an act of trickery, a way to get in with mortals so they can reap all of their labor while contributing nothing but trouble, but he can’t believe that, he just can’t. All he can picture is someone lost and new to the world, hoping for someone to pick them up and take them somewhere safe-

He tries to ignore the tears prickling at the corners of his eyes, turning the page before he’s even finished reading. Common horror mutations are easier on his mind, and it’s almost soothing to read the familiar bullet points that he knows so well. Growth of teeth and claws, hunger, mood instability-

God damnit.

He closes the book and shoves it under his pillow, resisting the urge to clutch at his own head and scream. He knows he’s not mutated, he doesn’t have any of the symptoms, no history of it in the family, but part of him wishes so, so much that he is, and that someday a full transformation will come and make him stronger than this.

At least then, he’d have answers for something.

[ThreadLurkingComorant]

Tagging In - a Jam and Dotty One Shot

---

You are not Lex, you haven't been Lex all day nor heard much from her this entire time. You fumble around with getting cleaned and dressed to spend time with her friend today, you're not very used to the outside physical world nor having to pose as her. You can only just pray that wherever she is right now, she'll be back safe soon. 

You look in the mirror to check your teeth, they're somewhat overgrown in the front and indicate someone still has trouble maintaining healthy gnawing habits. You'd correct them if you could but you don't have the time right now to work on some bark. 

You keep looking at the clock, she should be here any minute. You think back and recall that she has a tendency to get there decently early, wait by the door, and then knock a minute after she said she'd be there. You mostly noticed this because an old roommate watched the window a few times for Lex and caught her in the act. You find it a little sweet. If you were Lex right now you'd entertain it and wait but you're ready. 

You crack open the door and hear the sound of your very startled construct friend. 

Dotty: Lex! 

???: Hey! You're twenty minutes early!

Dotty: Yeah!

???: You didn't knock?

Dotty: Wanted to give you time to get ready.

???: Well, I am now!

Dotty: How'd you know?

???: Just made a pretty good guess really. I felt good vibes by the door so I took a little leap of faith.

Dotty: Well um.... 

She takes a hand and pulls a few stray strands of hair back. 

???: You okay?

Dotty: Mmhmm. You got everything you need?

???: Yep, where we heading today?

Dotty: The pier, our usual spot. Maybe mix it up after with dinner in the city if you don't mind taking a bus.

???: Sounds good! Things go well with work today? You know, with regulating duels and stuff?

Dotty:  Eh.... had to deal a nasty incident in the park. Someone tried to register their pet as a dueling partner, had to deep dive into some books to tell them no since they kept pushing some kind of precedent. 

???: Why would they do that? Why would they get some poor little animal to fight for them?

Dotty: That's the scary part, it was a bear.

???: You mean the big furry things? Oh we can start walking by the way.

She nodded and offered her arm. You held onto her as she escorted you downhill.

Dotty: Anyway yeah. Thing was taller than me like.... was afraid the guy would sic it on me.

???: You were brave enough to stand your ground against a big hairy creature though. Could probably win if something went down.

Dotty: I really don't like having to fight people... thank god he backed down when I threatened to lock him out of ranked duels for the season. 

???: Oh, was he part of a circuit?

Dotty: Yep! Pretty high up too, don't know how if he wasn't confident enough to fight without help from a thousand pound beast. 

???: What'd you do if that didn't work?

Dotty: Duel him which could get ugly fast. Bears fight for keeps if you know what I mean.

???: You got that clamp mouth of yours though right? Could have just chomped it in half.

Dotty: I'd get fired! Noooooo thanks. Guess I would win though if stuff came down to it..

???: I mean of course, you're the strongest person I know.

Dotty: No I'm not...

???: Mmhmm! Bet you could lift up anyone and toss them across the street.

Dotty: I mean not anyone but....

???: But you're pretty strong right?

Dotty: I mean sure.

???: Carry me. I'm tired.

Dotty: We just started walking Lex....

???: Then maybe I just wanna be held for a bit while we get to the beach. Please?

Dotty: I mean uh...

???: Just pick me up.

Dotty sweeps you up in one clean motion. She seems a little shy doing this.

???: There you go. Easy cause you're strong.

Dotty: You've never really asked me to do something like this before, I'm kind of surprised.

???: I'm just feeling extra confident tonight. Going on my gut a ton.

Dotty: You should do that more... it's nice. 

???: Not as nice as you! Helping poor exhausted me make this walk.

Dotty: Lex.... 

???: Is it too much? I can stop of it's too much.

Dotty: No, just.. you're usually the one initiating these little things. You asked me out first, you seem to just do things without worry a lot of the time... and today you're going a bit extra on all of that. Worried I might be a bit boring to you.

???: You're not. We're just boneheads who luck out, you play things pretty smart a lot of the time.

Dotty: We?

???: Me. Not you, you're good at making calls most of the time. I'm the one who gets all sorts of little scrapes and bruises over nothing. You make me feel safe because I know you have other people's well being at heart you know? Like me? I'm just a mess who gets into a lot of trouble but with you around? I feel like nothing can go wrong.

Dotty: You're gonna make me all red....

???: It's true, mean every word. 

Dotty: I'm gonna melt if tonight's gonna be like this the whole time. We haven't even gone anywhere yet!

???: I'll be there to pick you up if you do. 

Dotty: Fucker.

???: Sure am.

You can feel murmurings from another voice in your skull. Lex seems to be there again, if barely cohesive. You don't know how much longer you're going to be taking charge for. Part of you quietly hopes you get the whole evening even if you know you'll feel a little bad stealing someone's date night like that. 

In more than once instance you want to confess to Dotty who you are but admittedly you can't help but worry it'd weird her out. You know it's irrational, she'd understand but you don't want to kill the mood. One day you'll find a way to help it make sense. 

I'm sure you will. 

I hope so. You're lucky to know someone so good.

You're lucky too.

I know.

[SHIVERS]

Fourth Plate - 2020
Como + Shivers, Masa con Papas + Patchwork Kernel
CW: serious injury, self-harm, breakdown
Erica has a surprise visitor.

---

---

---

The ruffneck put out her camp cig as she made her way up the steps to the door, hastily trying to waft away the smoke with a paw as she pocketed what was left, not wanting to drop it nearby.
She took a quick breath, then knocked.

Audible from inside was two or three voices, followed by approaching footsteps. Within a few moments the door creaked open, a ruffneck in glasses with prosthetic limbs and a blind eye peeking through. "Hello?"

The canine standing outside was very tall - well over six feet - and covered from head to toe in various scars. She wore a dull violet-red poncho that was tattered and worn, showing its age.
Ravine tried and failed to muster up a friendly look despite this.
"Hi. Is someone named Erica here?"

"Mmhmm, I can get her. I don't think I've seen you in town before." The ruffneck pulled a bit of hair out of his face. "People don't usually come here in the evening, is something wrong?"

Ravine towered over the other ruffneck, even through the doorway.
"Nothing wrong. Just need to talk with her."

"Mm. One moment" He pulled back inside. Not too long after, the door reopened, and another ruffneck well into her golden years took the place of the previous one. She was wearing a long poncho that covered most of her and had piercing glowing eyes that were immediately noticeable. 
"You're a tall one. You here on business?"

She gave the ruffneck a small nod in greeting. 
"Not exactly, ma'am.
I'd like to become part of the judgment lineage.
I've heard you're the person to speak with about that.
I'm guessing there's some kind of test; I'd like to take it. Today, if possible."

The old dog smirked. "You're asking a lot very suddenly, straight to the point too. I'm about to start dinner with my people but..." She shook her head. "Aw heck, you eat yet?"

She looked very confused. "...Ma'am?
Oh."
Ravine shook her head. "I appreciate that, but I can wait outside while you eat."

"I'm not gonna leave you standing out here for an hour like that. Come on in."

She hesitated, very much wanting to wait outside - maybe take a walk in the meantime - but couldn't bring herself to be rude.
The dog exhaled from her nostrils, almost inaudible.
"Alright. Thank you, ma'am."

Ravine stepped inside, having to duck slightly into the doorway, a campfire scent wafting in with her.

Inside the walls were decorated in all sorts of worn and torn artifacts and family photos. "Gonna be us and my two grandkids, hope you don't mind." She led the way through the entrance hall and into the living room. "Well, guess they're not kids anymore. You seem about their age actually. Might have them spar with you if you decide to train here."

Ravine followed along dutifully. 
She tried not to stare long at the various family pictures, all of them serving to make her feel more and more out of place.
She couldn’t help but end up lost in thought, however, having to force herself to snap back.
"...Train?"

She nodded. "Course. You're looking into knighthood, yeah?"

"Yes ma'am. Though, I was hoping to just take the exam."

"I personally can't knight you, but I can give you a recommendation for a guild to give you the test for a license. Prove you got what it takes and I'll hand you a letter and handle your travel."

"...Oh.
Alright.
What would you have me do?"

"An initial spar to see where you're at. From there we can gauge what you need to train to pass that test... Though I gotta say you look like you've got a lot of fighting experience under your belt already."

"I do.
Who would I be sparring with?"

"I think... I'll let you pick your opponent when we get to that." They both arrived in the kitchen. A vaguely canine-esque construct with long hair was setting the table.  "Geezer! You mind setting up a fourth plate?"

The construct turned his head toward the two of them. "We got a guest today grandma?"

"We sure do! I'll catch you up to speed in a sec." Erica turned back toward Ravine. "Get yourself settled in at the table."

Ravine felt her heart rise into her throat as she was left alone with the construct.
She just nodded in his direction, not saying a word, and looking confident - if slightly awkward - despite her nervousness.

The construct placed down mats and silverware on the table. "You're pretty quiet. You okay?"

"I'm fine." She hesitated to sit down, not really knowing where to do so.

"You got a name?"

"Ravine."

"Geezer. Everyone else will be here soon... sit down anywhere you want. "

She hastily took a seat in the chair closest to her, causing it to loudly scrape on the floor in the process.

Geezer avoided making a comment. "So... you're not allergic to anything yeah? Tonight is pasta and roasted poultry."

"I can eat that." She avoided eye contact, awkwardly transitioning into conversation after a moment.
"...You said Erica is your grandmother, right?"

"Yeah, why?"

"You live here, then?"

"Yeah, on and off. What's up?"

"...Just curious. Haven't been here before."
She tried to think of a hasty way to bridge that gap into somehow asking to leave while she waited for them to finish eating, but nothing came to mind.

"Guessing you're far from home. You nervous?"

"About the fight?
No."

"Just in general. You don't gotta pretend."

"I'm not nervous, I'm just not comfortable.
I don't do this kind of thing."

"Yeah... between you and me, if she keeps you around for a bit you can skip dinner by telling her you're eating out with friends. Probably too late right now though. Promise you the food is good though, cousin handled it."

"I'm not worried about the food, and I'm not going to lie to your grandma."

"If you're sure. Real talk, she's probably gonna have you fight me or my cousin as a note. Don't know if after dinner or if she'll wanna wait til morning but I can push for the former if it'll help you out."

"As soon as possible would be better.
Which of you is stronger?"

"Depends a lot I think. I got more muscle but Charon's got a bit extra in the bragging rights department."

"Why?"

"Thumped an angel a few years ago. I helped but he got that finishing blow in... still beat him in our sparring sessions though."

"If you win when sparring, then I'd rather fight you."

"Up to you. Grandma might just wanna fight you herself too."

"Whatever works."

There was an interrupting knock on the doorway. Erica was there with Charon behind her. "Back, hope I wasn't too long."

"No ma'am."

"That's good. You know I don't think we exchanged names proper." She scooted into a chair.

It was finally sinking in that this was happening, but she didn't show visible signs of her panic at all.
"Ravine," she stated simply.

"Gotcha. So what made you wanna join the line?"

"Don't have much else to do, and I can handle myself."

Erica scratched her head. "You're... trying to join because you're bored?"

"No. 
I can take knight contracts if I join a line.
I need work, and I know I could do it well."

"It'd be a tough job."

"Suits me fine, ma'am."

"Long as you're fine with a little danger." Charon and Geezer sat themselves down, too, plates now set. "You resistant at all to mutation? Horror work is a big seller in the trade lately."

"Not that I'm aware of, but I'm sure I can deal with horrors."

"Hmm. I'd suggest you avoid getting too close to those. Uh, feel free to start eating by the way, these two worked pretty hard on dinner today."

She had barely noticed, but began to politely nibble away at the meal.

Erica watched her discreetly, trying to get a good gauge on the dog.

Ravine caught her watching almost immediately, meeting her gaze for a few moments before continuing with her meal.

Erica smirked. "Eat all you'd like 'cause after this we're gonna get a good gauge on you. Once we know where you're at we can brace you to get your license."

"Did you decide which of you I'm fighting yet?
I'd prefer to get it over with sooner rather than later, ma'am."

"Well first I gotta know who's willing."
Charon raised a hand. "I wouldn't mind, I think I could get a pretty accurate feel for where she's at."
Geezer joined in. "I'd be down too. Feeling pretty good for it."

"Both at once, then?"

Erica shook her head. "Nah, wouldn't do something unfair like that to you. You can pick."

"I've had worse.
I don't really care to pick, either."

"Hmm? Whatcha implying by that?"

"They can pick, otherwise I'll fight both."

"That'd be a heck of a mistake and not reflective of any sort of actual test."

"With all due respect, ma'am:  You don't know me." 
She took a drink of water.
"And even if I lose, you'd see plenty to judge me by.
...You can learn a lot about someone when their back's against a wall."

"Can't learn that much if the fight ends too quick. You don't know what anyone here's been through either."

"Doesn't matter."

She glanced at Charon and Geezer.
"Up to you two."
Geezer shrugged. "I got no issue with it if you really wanna go this route. Sure there's gotta be some merit here. Charon?"
"I'm game. Nobody talks that hard unless they've got something big in their pocket. Besides it's a spar, we wouldn't be going all out."

Ravine kept her eyes on them.
"Whenever you're ready."

Geezer nodded. "We'll do this outside. Hope that's alright."

"I'd prefer it that way. Wouldn't want to break anything in here." She stood up from her seat.

The three Judgments followed suit and quickly made their way to the clearing in front of the house.

Ravine stood a good distance away.
One paw loosened the ice axe from her side and held it, the other holding firm on her gun; still in its holster.
She got down low.
"...You ready?"

Erica was stationed at the patio while Charon and Geezer stood with a bit of distance between the two of them. The duo of construct and dog seemed to communicate with each other non-verbally before Geezer spoke up. "We're gonna play this kinda safe and clean on our end to get a feel of things. Hope you don't mind. Ready."

Ravine gripped her revolver tight.
"Go."


Geezer manifested a segmented club in his hand and charged immediately.  Charon stood behind watching patiently.

The gun was out of its holster with blinding speed as she was already mid-motion, hopping to the side.
With the two lined up, she fired, a huge pulse of air blasting Geezer backwards into Charon.

Charon blasted a wall of electricity toward Geezer with one hand, bouncing him back full force at Ravine. Geezer rode the momentum to go for a swing.

She holstered her gun as she caught the blow with her ice axe, forcing the club aside and downward, straining Geezer's hand.
Her other paw helped the motion along, grabbing Geezer by the head and swinging him down into the dirt.

Geezer was downed instantly. Charon walked up slowly with a spark flickering in his hand. "What a cowardly weapon."

"Can't really call me a coward when you sent your cousin at me alone.
You want to talk, then close the gap."
She put her foot on Geezer's back and used the leverage to wrench the club from his hand, promptly tossing it in Charon's direction.

Charon knocked the club aside with the back of his hand and continued his approach. "I have a little trouble walking so pardon me for not running straight at you."

She got distance from Geezer, keeping both of them in sight without moving further away from Charon.
"Take your time."

Charon fired a burst of electricity toward Ravine, trying to force a closing of the gap.

She moved aside and tossed her axe into the strike.
The electricity flicked towards it and sputtered out, allowing her to safely retrieve her axe.
"If you won't get close, then I will. Your choice."

Charon made direct eye contact. His eyes lit up. "I'm taking my time, you have the option to come at me too."

She stared blankly.
"You want me closer so you can grab me and get in a bigger shock at close range, I’m guessing?"

"Keep looking at me like that and I won't have to."

She began walking towards him, keeping a wide enough circle to make sure the downed Geezer stayed within her view, just in case.

There was suddenly a massive influx of pain sent Ravine's way, all force dealt against Geezer in the past moments rushing in.

She exhaled, her shoulders lowered, and she stopped abruptly, nearly falling.
Seconds later, she resumed walking with rougher breath, not breaking eye contact.

Charon continued his advance, an unnatural shadow looming in front of him. "Stand down. I have all my pieces in play. Admittedly not by intention."

She didn't falter and didn’t speak, her heart racing.
Her gun raised and fired in an instant, aimed at one of Charon's arms.
This time, though, the compressed air was forced to a single, small focal point, tearing through the air with the force of a bullet.

Charon didn't bother to resist it, letting the bullet fracture his mechanical arm.

It pierced clean through, the hole making it less structurally sound.
This time, she fired again, widening the focal point slightly as she neared him. The 'bullet' fired down at one of his kneecaps with the force of a focused shotgun shell.

The shadow at Charon's feet gushed a wall of metal lances and needles to soak up the blow. "I'm curious how far your resolve goes here. I know where mine is at."

She didn't respond, instead charging around the shadow straight at Charon, firing a quick volley of shots at the shadow to keep it busy.

The shadow yanked itself out of the ground, forming into a tall figure with a mix of floral aesthetics and hard metallic shell. It proceeded to hammer her with the side of its forearm. 

She took the blow and stumbled, nearly falling, but kept on charging. She closed the gap on Charon within another moment and tackled him to the ground, knocking the wind out of him.

Charon refused to flinch and instead clung on tight. The figure merged with him, letting him take its form.  

She wasted no time. Her knee pressed hard into his gut while one claw gripped his head, the other yanking his left arm, pulling it as hard as she could.
Ravine's gaze didn't break - breath wild and panting, eyes baring down on him; panic and adrenaline channeling through her into raw tenacity - as his mechanical shoulder began to split from the socket.

Charon responded with a bit of karma, grabbing Ravine by the head and slamming her aside into the ground.

She got right back up, swinging her head to sling the blood away.
She extended her ice axe and caught Charon's neck, jerking his body back down.

Charon took advantage of the lack of distance and spawned a lance from the ground underneath Ravine, jabbing her very lightly with the blunt handle.  "You should surrender now--"

Ravine didn't speak, entirely in a frenzy at this point.
She cut him off mid-sentence, aiming directly at his head and firing a wide, concussive blast of air, attempting to knock him out.

Charon separated apart from the form in time, the figure taking the blow and collapsing back into a shadow. Out of desperation, he cocooned himself in a pile of lances and needles. "This is getting a little out of hand. I do hope you realize this. If I have to be a little rude to win, I will."

She fired off blast after blast at the shell of spears, gradually knocking them away and entirely shutting out his voice.

"This... has gone on long enough." There was a heavy feeling cast on Ravine's limbs. They quickly were becoming a vapor. "Drop your weapon."

She couldn't hear him at all, panicking, instead lunging in against the spears in desperation.
Through sheer adrenaline she reached in through them, countless spikes stabbing into her torso and face.
She felt around momentarily before finding his throat.
Her leg placed itself behind him as best she could manage, and with every ounce of her strength, she threw down, flipping him over to chokeslam the dog into the ground with everything she had.

Charon just tried to play dead at this point, hoping she'd back off.

Her body shook as she stood over him, needles jutting out all over her hide.
Her hands still firmly gripped her weapons, but they were shaking violently.
Ravine looked as if she was barely conscious, teetering on the verge of passing out from the pain alone.
She stayed at the ready, watching Charon as he lay there.
"...Are we done now?"
"No. I'm petty." 
Charon began to roll away sideways.


She watched him make it a few feet, then placed her gun in her holster.
"I forfeit."
Ravine didn't bother removing any of the numerous needles sticking out of her limbs and face as she stepped over to the wall of the house. 
She slumped down to the ground next to it, put a cigarette in her mouth, and lit it.

Charon clumsily got to his feet. "Really? I do suppose we've both taken quite the toll. I'm willing to accept this as a stalemate."

"Wasn't a stalemate. You won, take the win. I'm tired." She pulled one of the needles out of her cheek and flicked it, smoke billowing from her nostrils.

"Don't pull those out, I can fix you up properly in a moment."


She looked over in Geezer's direction. "May want to help your cousin up, since you can still stand."

Charon hurried on over toward Geezer. 
Erica approached Ravine. 
"You put on a heck of a display there. Any thoughts going through your head?"




Ravine stared off into the treeline, taking a little while to respond.
Smoke billowed from her mouth as she spoke.
"Sorry for chokeslamming your grandson, ma'am."

"He's had worse... probably not hurt that bad as much as shocked you actually went and did that. Anyway I'll get your evaluation and letter of recommendation written down soon as I can. You mind sticking around town another day? Wanna get this done thorough as possible. 
Plus I can't let you travel after enduring as much as you did today."

"I've had worse." She blew more smoke.
"Not sure why you're writing a recommendation, though. You watched me lose."

"You said it yourself, even if you lose you can get a lot out of that. What I got is someone with a lot of talent handling a pretty extreme match-up. Plus I wouldn't mind adding to our little family here." 
Charon shouldered Geezer over to the patio and sat him down by the stairs.

Her eyes swiveled to watch them as they walked before facing forward again.
She pulled the cigarette out of her mouth momentarily, watching her hand still shaking from the match.
"You don't want me here," she said frankly.

Erica frowned. "Why not?"

"Nothing you need to worry about."
She braced herself against the wall and stood up with a grunt, taking another drag once she managed to right herself.

"Yeah, well... think about it a bit more. You'd be a great addition. Promise." 
Charon interjected.  "Before you both continue I propose a little first aid. May I do the honors?"

"I'll do it." She rolled a shoulder and sighed, starting to walk through the clearing to leave.

Charon blocked her off. 
"You're badly injured and I can fix you up instantly. 
Please."

She pivoted on her feet when he swooped around in front of her, as if she had just barely stopped herself from throwing him out of the way on instinct.
"I'll handle it. 
Move."

"...Fight me again some day. One-on-one. For real."

The ruffneck stepped around him.
"I'll pass."
She put her cigarette out with a claw as she walked, and pocketed what was left.

"I don't understand you. You have the guts to come out here, ask my grandmother for something huge, and then walk out on her after she offers it?"

She stopped walking, but didn't turn to face him.

"When you asked to become a Judgment, that's not just telling her you want to become a knight. That's telling her you wanted to join her family. At her age she's lost a lot of her closer connections to time, not that you could have known that much, but... it's something with a lot more weight than you seem to understand. 
To give you the letter of recommendation without so much as training you means she sees the possibility of a connection. Perhaps a bit of herself even. That's a huge thing to just walk away from."

Ravine finally turned around, only looking at Erica.
"I didn't realize what it meant when I asked, or I wouldn't have asked that of you.
I'm sorry to put that on you.
But what I said stands regardless:

You don't want me here.
You don't want me as part of your family."

Erica took a moment to process it before giving her a shrug. 
"If that's your choice, I can't really force you to do anything. You don't gotta join any family if you don't want to, but if you still want that letter I can write you up something independently of all that. You did good today."

She watched Erica and the other two for a long time.
Ravine turned away.
"I'm at the bed and breakfast on the north side of town.
If you really want to recommend me, you can have it sent there."

"Sure thing. Just mail me back when you pass your exam."

"...I think it's best if you don't keep in contact with me.
Same goes for your grandchildren."

"...I'll have it sent in the morning. Wish you good luck."

"You as well, ma'am." 
She started walking, raising her hand just above her elbow in a slight wave.

"And thanks for dinner."

[ThreadLurkingComorant]

The Monument - A One Shot in Plaza
CW: Stylized Body Horror.



Summertime on the outskirts of Capital always blessed you with options on how to spend your afternoon. You could be at the local games and hobby shop optimizing your limited pocket change to join in on the most recent salt and scuffle that trends. You were offered by a friend to join in for a trek to the park to watch the pugilistic spars of local duelists aiming for belts and cash. 

Yet despite having way more optimal choices, you've decided to visit the Monument against the wishes of every adult you've ever met.

The monument exists as a reminder of something very few left alive can say they've experienced but those who witnessed it describe it as the single most impactful day in the history of plaza since the first person put their tracks in the sand. The battle is said to have gone on in the soil surrounding. It leveled entire buildings, forced the rich into hiding and put paupers in the thrones of war horses. Many sacrifices were made to contain a threat that nobody to this day fully understands and the scars left behind leave a fear in even those who came decades after.

But not you, you're braver than that. You're in middle school and don't have a single rational fear in the world. 



It's not too uncommon for kids to dare each other to enter the area, and you can't help but think of how cool you'd be if you came back with something to prove you did it. It's become a bit of a game for people your age really. No different than trying to summon phantoms with the bathroom mirror or light circles of cheap candles at midnight. There's no point of it in the grand scheme of things besides being something "scary" anyone can do easily.

So far so good though, you've made it right next to the very spot it stands. You wish you had a camera with you so you could take a photo for proof but you'd need mom and dad to get it developed and you know they'd ground you for the rest of the season if they saw it among the photos. It's towering, way larger than you'd ever be and incredibly intimidating. There's no plaque of any kind surprisingly. You can't help but wonder what any of it actually means since accounts of that day are so scattered and not even your parents can give you a consistent story.

Also much to your surprise there's a pond right by it, a little miracle that managed to survive in the dry heat. 



You find yourself strangely drawn to it. You really shouldn't be this close without anyone around but it seems too shallow for anything to happen if you fell in. Besides you're a good swimmer right?

You see your face in the water but can't make out a single thing past that. It's a little deeper than you made it out to be though. The heat around you tempts you to stick your hand in and splash it around a bit, it's probably not sanitary but you can wash up when you get back right? You're gonna get dirty one way or another out here in the desert. 




As you reach out you can't help but feel a presence looming. 

It's probably nothing.

Should you turn around?

Maybe it'd be better if you ignored it.

There's absolutely audible footsteps now.

Don't you dare give it attention. It's nothing. If you look away it won't notice you.

You turn around against your better judgement. 




The crumpled form of a vintage construct in a military uniform approaches. They're in poor shape. 

You approach them. "Hey. You okay?"

They nodded. "They send you out to pull us out?"

"Just passing by."

They tilt their head up to get a look at you. You make out a glowing eye. "Ah, just a Dopple unit. Young one too. Didn't think they'd be getting back to us anytime soon. We gotta get you outta here kid, find your family."

"I know where my family is. You don't look so good though, I can take you back to town to get patched up."

"You got a medic?"

"I can take you to a repair shop if that's what you mean. Don't know what you're doing all the way out here though."

"I'm looking for my squad, we planned a regroup but I haven't been able to detect any sign of them. I'm a little worried."

"I'm sure if we take you back we can find someone who can help you out... you got a name?"

"Yeah."

"Gonna share it?"

"Yeah... Fleming, no surname of any kind. Second generation Royal Rancher unit."

Second generation. That goes way far back.

"A real rancher unit?"

"Mmhmm. You?"

"Lex. Dopple. Nothing that special yet about me but uh... I'm working on it."

"Like to think. There's something special about everyone. You really know the way back?"

"Mmhmm! Think I do, it's a bit of a walk. You gonna be okay making it?"

"I'll be good, just don't run up too far ahead."

"Promise I'll wait for you."



You start trekking at a casual pace together. You look over him every once in a while. You'd offer to shoulder him up but he's easily the tallest person you've ever met. You make an attempt to start some small talk.

"So when you say royal rancher, that means you're some kind of personal bodyguard right? Like, you protect famous people?"

"That's a bit of a simplification but.... yeah."

"Ever work with any movie stars?" 

"Nope. Never even met one before. That'd be a pretty nice gig though once things are all over."

"Yeah? Like, what do you mean by that?"

"...You been living under a rock or something kid? World's been on fire lately. I'm surprised anyone let you walk out on your own this far."

"My parents don't mind as long as I'm back by dark."

"You're too brave for your own good."

"That a bad thing?"

"Maybe. You did find me so... not yet. Just stay out of trouble if you can help it, we're deep enough out here where predators are a real worry."

"This place has been cleared for years. At worst maybe you'll see a few lizards."

"Years? That doesn't make much sense...."

"Like, you said you were only here a few days right?"

"Pretty sure. Seems like the worst of things has blown over though from the way you're talking. Gives me a good chance to find the rest of my crew. Regroup, pray we eventually get everyone together again, maybe take a few break days to recover. Can't imagine they're doing too much better."

"So there's a bunch of you?"

"Mmhmm."

"Like.... other rancher units?"

"Mostly, a few other models here and there too. Why?"

"You're the first rancher unit I've seen in person. Second generation too, so like, that means you’ve been in service a long time right?"

"No not really... I'm surprised you haven't seen more. There's lots of us living in Capital."

"Huh.... you really all that sure you've only been wandering for a few days?"

He goes silent on you. You definitely upset him... You try changing the subject.

"So... you got any good friends on your squad?"

"Ton of them. When we're on break we like to go out to this sandwich place by the office. It's not especially good or anything but it's easy to walk to and in our budget so it works out. They also don't complain when someone brings their own lunch so that's nice."

"That's cool. I really do hope your friends are all okay."

"Yeah, same... they're good folks. When this is over we're going to all get funnel cake or something."

"I wouldn't mind some right now."

"I'll point you to one of my favorite spots when we get back.... hey kid, you see that up ahead?"



There's someone tall in the distance. "Yeah, what about it?"

"That one of yours?"

"Nope... must be someone else who wandered in. Just ignore them."

It's vaguely humanoid shape comes off as anything but familiar or friendly. It approaches you.

You're going to have to deal with it.

"Lex right?"

"Mmhmm."

"Let's go around, I don't like the vibes that are coming off of it."

"Yeah... yeah that's probably a good idea."

You can only do this for so long.

You try heading south but it only seems to pick up its pace. The construct looks at you with a dire face. 

"Lex, I want you to stay back."

"What?"



"If I go down I want you to run and never look back."

"What are you about to do?"

"Just trust me on this kid, I don't like what's coming our way."

You can help him out. Just trust yourself.

"You got your friends to find, I'm not ditching you."

He stood up tall, steeling himself for what's about to happen. 



The creature is now clear as day, a mismatched pile of rags and flesh ready to put you in the dirt. It's absolutely fixed on the two of you and sprinting faster than anything you've ever seen in your life.


Fleming crashes directly into the beast, slamming his entire body to intercept its approach and grappling its jaw away from himself. Despite his best efforts though it does manage to drag its claws into his side and scrape away at his robotic shell. "What the fuck are you doing kid? Get out of here!"



You refuse. 

As you should. 

You feel a looming presence return. 

It makes you feel stronger, doesn't it?

You watch as Fleming takes the fight to the ground in an attempt to pin the creature. It starts twisting and turning into a mesh of blades and leather. 

It starts to swallow Fleming into its mass.

You stand by, unable to run or do anything.

 In a surge of confidence you've never felt before you dive right in to help him out. 

The creature doesn't hesitate to take a swing at you.



You may have made a huge mistake.

You brace for the impact. 

You see all the mistakes you've made in the past minute loop in your mind.

And yet despite that, you're absolutely fine.



A large claw erupts from your body and grabs it by the arm. 

You pull back in disbelief of what you're seeing. The claw yanks the beast off of Fleming and pins it down by its wrist onto the sand. Fleming doesn't waste a second and gets back up. He rushes over to take free blows at the creature and stomp it down.

The claw recoils back into you. The creature takes a massive beatdown that you're not sure you have the stomach for. 



He doesn't give it a single moment to breath. 

You close your eyes. You don't want to see it.

It's the most brutal shit you've ever had to witness.

You hear the sound of crunching, the shrieks, and then after what feels like too long... silence. 

You're still too afraid to open your eyes. You hear Fleming walking toward you.

"You okay kid?"

"I... I don't wanna look."

"Keep your eyes closed. Gonna follow the path we were going alright?"

"Okay...."



He takes your hand and leads you. He talks to you the entire way.

"You gonna be okay Lex?"

"Mmhmm....."

"Just don't look. Not until we're far enough that you can't see any of it."

"Promise you won't tell me too early?"

"Promise. I'll be honest, I don't know what you did back there but it saved me. Saved us both."

"Don't think I did anything."

"I mean, someone had to do it right? Maybe you just got a guardian angel."

Guardian angel. That has a nice ring to it.

But that's absolutely not what happened.

"Maybe. I wasn't supposed to be here..."

"Figured as much. Not supposed to be here either I think."

"Oh?"

"I... don't think its just been a few days."

"Yeah..."



"I'm so tired..."

"You need to stop?"

"We're almost there. You can probably open your eyes now."

"I think I'm gonna wait until we're out of here."

"Just a bit further then. You're a good kid, you did real good back there."

"Really? I barely did anything."

"Yeah you did. Don't let anyone ever make you feel weak. You got a lot of promise."

"I hope so."

You feel the dirt slowly transform into concrete.

"I think I'm gonna go straight home. You should too Lex, alright?"

"Straight back."

"You stay safe."

"You too... thank you."

"Think I see my friends. You know the rest of the way?"

"Mmhmm...."

"That's good."

"I'm still a little scared though."

"Me too kid, me too."



Your feet touch the sidewalk. His hand lets go of yours.

"Fleming?" 

You open your eyes.

It's night.

Your parents will kick your ass for being out this late.

There's nobody else around, just the city in the distance.

You're all alone.

[knux400]

---

 

Total Scrap Containment Sphere Operations Manual- 2020

knux400, General Morbit 

CW: Medical, death, suffocation, needles, and memory/personality altering

A pamphlet detailing how to operate some kind of device.

 

---

 

TOTAL SCRAP CONTAINMENT SPHERE OPERATIONS MANUAL

 

The Total Scrap Containment Sphere or TSCS (sometimes referred to as a 'Tuscus' or 'Death Bubble') is a device capable of transferring a person's consciousness to a construct body. Misuse of this device can result in sudden mood shifts, memory loss, electrocution, or death. Please follow the procedures listed in this document as closely as possible to avoid mishap.

Section A: Description of Equipment

The TSCS is a hollow crystal sphere 15 feet in diameter, separated into two halves when not in use. It is contained in a large mechanical frame that holds the bottom half of the sphere in place while allowing the top half to be removed. The sphere is connected via several cables to a Scrap Repository, in which a Scrap Core can be placed.
A Scrap Repository is a roughly cylindrical device that contains a sliding panel to fit a Scrap Core. It is 1 foot tall and 6 inches in diameter.
A Scrap Core is a crystal disc housed in a cylindrical metal frame. It is 2 inches tall and 3 inches in diameter.

Section B: Standard Operating Procedure

Step 1: Prepare an empty scrap core and construct body. The construct body should be open and ready for the scrap core to be inserted.

Step 2: Lead the patient inside the bottom half of the sphere. It may be necessary to provide physical assistance to older or weaker patients. The patient must be wearing a medical gown and be completely devoid of any material that could potentially house scraps or shreds.

Step 3: Apply an even coating of Crystal Adhesive Gelatin to the edge of the sphere. Empty the sphere of all living beings except for the patient.

Step 4: Replace the top half of the sphere. Make sure the edges are perfectly aligned. Remove any excess gelatin.

Step 5: Close the mechanical frame. This will prevent the top half of the sphere from moving as the gelatin dries.

Step 6: Activate the TSCS at a low setting for 60 seconds. This will draw any stray scraps or shreds into the Scrap Repository. Before shutting the TSCS down again, use scrap detecting equipment to verify that there are no scraps or shreds left in the TSCS or in any of the transfer cables.

Step 7: Vent the Scrap Repository into a containment cell. Once the Scrap Repository is cleared, insert the Scrap Core and close the Repository.

Step 8: Once the gelatin has dried, the patient will have to suffocate to death before the procedure can continue. Use scrap detecting equipment to watch for the large burst of scraps upon the patient's death. If the patient's physiology is such that they are incapable of suffocating, see section D.

Step 9: Activate the TSCS at a medium setting for 3 minutes. This will draw all scraps and shreds from the patient's body into the Scrap Repository. Before shutting the TSCS down again, use scrap detecting equipment to verify that there are no scraps or shreds left in the TSCS or in any of the transfer cables.

Step 10: Remove the Scrap Core from the Scrap Repository. Be very careful not to drop or bump the Scrap Core. Insert it immediately into the construct body.

Section C: Cleanup

To unseal the sphere, apply a generous amount of solvent to the seam of the sphere. After 60 seconds, use the mechanical frame to separate the top half. It may be necessary to use additional solvent to remove excess gelatin from the two halves. Remove all material from the inside of the sphere.

Section D: Troubleshooting

Some patients have physiology that makes it impossible for them to suffocate. In these instances, the patient must be given a syringe with a lethal dose of [REDACTED] to take with them into the sphere. Once the sphere is properly sealed, the patient must be instructed to use the syringe on themselves. When extracting the scraps from the patient's body, turn the TSCS to High for an additional 30 seconds to draw any potential scraps or shreds out of the syringe.

If a scrap gets stuck on the patient's body or inside the sphere/cables, turn the TSCS to High for a maximum of 60 seconds. Do not leave it on this setting for any longer, as it may cause damage to the machine. Should the scrap fail to move even after this, retrieve a Scrap Manipulation Tool and manually move the scrap into the Repository. Be extremely careful not to misplace or alter the scrap.

If it becomes evident during the extraction process that the sphere is imperfectly sealed, deactivate the TSCS immediately. If the scraps being extracted are those of the patient, all personnel must immediately retrieve Scrap Manipulation Tools and perform the transfer manually.

Should the patient die before preparations for extraction are complete, the scraps can be contained in the sphere for short periods of time, although some degradation can occur.

Section E: Footnotes

It is extremely important that all the steps outlined in this manual are followed to the letter, as an imperfect transfer of scraps, loss of scraps, or introduction of foreign scraps into the Scrap Core can cause the patient's personality or memories to be altered. In severe cases, this may cause the Scrap Core to become unstable or fail to activate at all. To avoid mishap, always follow these steps:

Check the structural integrity of the sphere before every operation. Do not operate with a damaged or broken sphere.
Do not turn the TSCS to High for more than 60 seconds at a time.
Do not begin extracting scraps from the patient until all stray scraps are cleared from the sphere, cables, and Repository.
Do not disconnect any of the cables during operation.
Do not open the Scrap Repository during operation.
Do not touch the sphere during operation.
The patient should be discouraged from hitting or kicking the inside of the sphere, as it may cause damage to the sphere and disrupt the procedure.