#and then the left i went with a pool looking water fill for the font a la palm springs | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

primatechnosynthpop · 3 years

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Wow! Against all odds, I finally got around to actually writing the follow-up to I'm Gonna Be The Anti-Hero that's existed exclusively in my head for months! Well uh here it is :3

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The secret underground room beneath Plymouth rock was dark and silent as always, save for the faint dripping of water through a crack in the ceiling. It figured that, after living there for countless centuries, the structural integrity would finally begin to erode. That dripping sound, although highly irritating when it first started a month or so ago, had now settled into background noise which John Smith paid no attention to. He was a pilgrim, not a witch; it wasn't like the water could hurt him.

Then again, he realized a few moments too late one rainy spring day, perhaps he should have reevaluated that statement. He was minding his own business sitting in his chair and reminiscing about the very old days (that was the only thing he could really do anymore, slowly decaying as his body was) when the soft and steady dripping suddenly escalated at an exponential rate into what sounded like a small waterfall. He turned his head to see a semi-transparent humanoid figure taking shape out of the water pooling in the corner--strangely tinted red, as though the water were mixed with blood. As the old pilgrim watched, jaw agape, the figure strode purposefully toward him, taking on a more solid form as it did so.

"What are you doing here, intruder?" John Smith demanded, one hand tightening around the hilt of his sword while his other hand reached behind his back to fumble for his musket.

"This secret underground room isn't government sanctioned," the stranger hissed. (Although... was he a stranger? John Smith somehow felt that he'd seen this youngster once before, but he couldn't quite place where or when.) "And you have no official identification registering you as a legal citizen. Not to mention, you haven't been paying taxes... disgraceful."

Before John Smith had the chance to concoct a retort or draw either of his weapons, the masked man's hands were around his throat and crushing his windpipe with a force that could only be driven by an inhuman amount of bloodlust. And within seconds, the life of a pilgrim that had been extended for centuries past its expiration date was finally put to an end.

"I can't believe they want us to make a clown movie at a time like this."

"I can believe it," Neil replied without looking up from the shopping list in his hand. "The studio wants a lot from us, remember? They're not going to care how sad we are. Anyway, it's been four months--" The emotions bubbling up within him refused to let his voice stay level, so he gritted his teeth and hissed out the rest of his sentence rather than let himself start crying in the middle of the dollar store. "We should be over it by now."

"Neil..." Kevin began in the way he'd often addressed Neil over the past few months--brow furrowed, voice edged with an obvious and vaguely patronizing concern--only to trail off and shake his head with a sigh. Apparently he'd finally given up on trying to make Neil feel better, which was just fine by him, because things are never gonna go back to the way they were before and it's my fault and I don't deserve to feel good about it.

"Anyway, we've got what we came for," Neil muttered, waving his hand in the general direction of Kevin's shopping basket without looking him in the eyes. "Let's go."

At the checkout counter, the cashier frowned and shook her head when Neil offered her a five-dollar bill. "Sorry," she told them, "But all this is going to cost $29.99."

"What? But we don't have that kind of money!" Neil lamented. "And we got this stuff from the clearance section... plus this is the dollar store, so shouldn't everything just cost a dollar?"

For a visual aid as he spoke, he grabbed one of the items they were ringing up--a bargain pack of multicoloured clown wigs--and shook it in the cashier's face. Apparently unmoved by his bargaining, she pursed her lips and crossed her arms.

"Maybe you should have checked the price tags first, sir."

"Huh? But, but..." Neil trailed off when he looked down at the price tag on the item in his hands. The bright orange tag had the original price, $7.50, crossed out and replaced with $2.35... but then below that, scribbled in tiny and barely legible font, it read "just kidding, it's actually eleven dollars now." "Aw, man," he groaned, tossing the pack down on the conveyor belt and sticking his hands in his pockets. "Just our luck."

Kevin had a thoughtful look in his eyes while he drove them home empty-handed. When he pulled up outside the clubhouse a few minutes later and they climbed out of the truck, he suddenly laid a hand on Neil's shoulder.

"Say, Neil, let's not get discouraged," he said. "I've got another idea for how we could get our hands on some props."

"Really?" Neil asked, perking up despite himself. "How?"

"Well, I think--" Kevin broke off as unexpectedly as he'd started, encouraging smile briefly dipping into a grimace. "...You know what, I'll take care of it myself. You can hold down the fort here, okay? I won't be long."

Neil's brow furrowed. "Okay, but what are you...?"

Without explaining himself any further, Kevin clapped him firmly on the back, hopped back into his truck, and drove off. Neil watched him recede down the road with bewilderment. Being all secretive like that wasn't like Kevin... Unless he's trying to protect me from something, he realized with a twinge of bitterness. That would be just like him, the way things had been recently. Ever since the past winter, and what had happened with Ryan, Kevin's latent big-brother-ish tendencies had escalated; now he watched over Neil like a hawk and freaked out every time he so much as stubbed his toe. Under different circumstances Neil would have relished being fussed over, but now it was more annoying than anything else. The thing was, he didn't deserve it. If anything... his fingers strayed up to absentmindedly fidget with the four-leaf clover pinned to his shirt. I deserve to have bad luck. I deserve to suffer, after what I did to Ryan.

Still, there wasn't much he could do about it now, and he wasn't going to say no to having the clubhouse to himself for a while. With a sigh, he disentangled his fingers from the clover's leaves, ran a hand through his overgrown bangs, and turned to head inside. Maybe he could play cards or something to pass the time.

A thick layer of dust had settled over everything in Ryan's house. That made sense, of course. It had been four months--no, five, since Ryan hadn't come home once while he was being a vigilante--since anyone had set foot there. Even so, Kevin was unprepared for the full-scale assault on his lungs when he opened the door, and promptly broke into a coughing fit.

"Man, good thing Neil stayed home," he thought aloud as he batted thick, swirling clouds of dust and spiderwebs out of his face. "The way things have been going for him lately..."

He'd probably choke to death on all this dust, he thought but didn't say aloud, and then felt bad for thinking it in the first place. Kevin didn't understand what had happened to Neil in the course of the past few days, but ever since picking up that clover, he seemed to be having a run of uncharacteristically bad luck. Whether it was random chance or something more suspicious was afoot, it sure wasn't doing much for his already thoroughly frayed nerves.

"Alright, calm down, James," he muttered to himself, shaking his head to clear his thoughts and ideally dispel the rest of the dust. "Focus. Concentrate. What are you here for? Props for your webisode. Right."

Keeping that objective in mind, he made his way past the front entrance and into the living room. There, a few objects were strewn around that caught his eye: a mannequin bust wearing a colourful wig; an eccentrically patterned jacket draped over a chair; a brush dipped into a rusted metal container filled with what he hoped was red paint. After looking around a little more he found a large cardboard box filled with mutilated stuffed animals, which he mostly emptied out and started filling with the useful items he came across.

All the while, a persistent feeling of unease stirred in his gut, becoming increasingly hard to ignore with each belonging of Ryan's he packed away. This is wrong. I shouldn't steal from him. Kevin paused and looked down at the box in his arms with a frown. One of the items sticking out the top, a blank-faced doll head, seemed to stare accusingly back at him. For a moment he saw it not as a plastic figure, but as a human form encased in ice and then broken apart. He blinked and the illusion quickly vanished, but an unsettling feeling remained in its wake. Neil was right; it had been months already. So why did going through Ryan's things make him feel so dirty? Ryan didn't need any of this stuff anymore. He was gone. Wasn't he?

With a weary sigh that, had anyone been around to ask, he would have accredited to the physical exertion of carrying heavy stuff around, Kevin set the box down and stepped back to survey the room he was in now. If he remembered right, this kind of room was called a study--there was an armchair with a few suspicious stains lurking beneath the dust, a desk strewn with papers all scrawled full of nonsense like the ravings of a mad scientist, and an ornate bookshelf. He wandered over to the latter furniture piece and ran his hands along the spines of the books, letting their leathery texture ground him in the present. He noticed several unusual bibles and other ancient texts, and a stash of calendars, some of which he was pretty sure had originally belonged to him or Neil; the up-to-date calendars and one of the more normal-looking bibles went into the box, while he decided everything else was better left where it was.

There was one other set of books he recognized: a teen fantasy series that Neil had often gushed about. Thinking back to the previous fall and all the events he normally tried not to think about, he experimentally lifted one of the fantasy books off the shelf. At once, just as he remembered from when Neil showed him, the bookshelf rumbled to the side and revealed a narrow staircase descending into the basement.

If anyone asked him, Kevin couldn't really say what compelled him to go down those stairs. The secret chamber was as empty as he remembered, with nothing down there that could possibly be of use for the webisode. And without a lantern, he could barely even see the only things that were there to speak of: the paintings of Ryan's ancestors.

"Ryan..." The name manifested on Kevin's lips unexpectedly as he stared, squinting through the dust and darkness, at the row of portraits grinning lopsidedly back at him. He knew the paintings couldn't hear him--hell, they weren't even paintings of Ryan himself, just his relatives. But their faces were practically identical to him, that face he hadn't seen in person for nearly half a year, and that alone was enough to clog up his throat with unbearable emotions.

The thought of It's a good thing Neil isn't here for this surfaced again, and this time Kevin had to agree with himself. Losing a close friend was... well, there was no way not to take it hard. But Neil seemed to have taken it particularly hard, even blaming himself, to the point where any mention of Ryan would immediately send him straight back into a depressive spiral no matter how happy he'd been a moment earlier. That was why Kevin had kept this idea a secret from his friend in the first place--that, and he wasn't sure if it was going to pan out and didn't want to get Neil's hopes up. He figured that if Neil asked where he got all the stuff he'd found, he'd just say it was from a garage sale.

Now, looking into the achingly familiar manic blue eyes of those portraits mounted on the wall, Kevin thought of those news reports about the mysterious killings that had been going on around town. If that really was Ryan, and he was somehow still alive...

"Why?" he whispered. Without really thinking, he reached out and pressed his hand against the painting as if to cup its cheek. "Why haven't you come home, Ryan? Where are you?"

The target was at home, alone in her bedroom playing video games. Casual, unbothered by any harm her actions may have caused. Shameful. In an icy swirl of perhaps not-so-righteous fury, the vigilante took form in the corner of her room and crept up behind her. With an average build and no weapons at the ready, she would be no trouble to dispose of.

"Playing dead in order to toy with an innocent man's feelings," he growled. "Some people would call it ghosting. I call it a crime punishable by death."

"Jesus christ, what the fuck?!" Wendy yelped as she spun to face the vigilante. "How'd you get in here?"

"You shouldn't worry about that," he told her, gloved hands already flexing in anticipation of tightening around her neck. Or perhaps this time he'd thrust his hand straight through her chest and rip out her heart--an appropriate punishment for her crimes. "You'll have plenty of time to figure it out once I send you to hell."

"Okay, seriously? What is happening here?" Eyes narrowed, Wendy put her game on pause and got to her feet to stare the vigilante down. "You said something about me playing dead..." Her eyes suddenly widened with recognition, and the vigilante waited for the fear to set in along with it, but instead she shook her head and laughed. A pitying laugh. "Wait, you're not friends with that, uh, that filmmaker guy, are you? Geez, I seriously must have dodged a bullet there."

"Filmmaker..." the vigilante murmured as the word echoed in his mind. Yes, that's right. The man she stood up was a filmmaker... of a sort. (How did he know that? How did he even know who this woman was? Those questions weren't worth dwelling on, he decided.) "You may have thought you dodged a bullet back then, but I'm here to see that the bullet circles back around and destroys you like you deserve."

Wendy crossed her arms and arched an eyebrow, any trace of fear on her face outmatched by her sad, pitying smile. "Sure, keep the edgy sayings coming, Mr. Hot Topic. And what's with the getup, anyway?" she added with a nod to the vigilante's predominantly dark outfit. "Must be kinda warm."

Warm? The vigilante snorted derisively. No, of course he wasn't too warm. His blood, as it always had for as far back as he could clearly remember, ran cold like that of a snake. He couldn't remember a time when he'd been warm. And he certainly couldn't remember a time when he'd worn anything other than his current ensemble. Rather than waste time telling this insufferable woman as much, though, he simply took a few purposeful strides to close the distance between them, hands extended and more than ready to kill.

"Ugh, get away from me, creep!"

In a startlingly swift motion, Wendy's leg shot out and connected with the vigilante's ankles, sending him toppling to the floor. He hissed in irration, though not in pain--when his sensations were already perpetually numb, it would take a lot more than that to hurt him--and got to his feet, dusting himself off with a scowl. In the few seconds this took, Wendy grabbed a baseball bat from the corner of the room. Now she stood brandishing it in perfect athletic form with a battle-ready glint in her eye.

"Not another step, you hear me?" When the vigilante didn't dignify her with a response, she gritted her teeth and gave the bat a twirl--attempting to show off, it seemed, but her hands shook slightly and she nearly dropped the bat, only barely managing to regain her grip on it. "My mom is in the other room right now, and... well, she hasn't done anything wrong, so you don't want to punish her, right? And if anything happens to me..."

He stiffened at Wendy's mention of her mother. An innocent citizen? That was the type of person a vigilante was meant to protect at all costs; otherwise vigilante justice was no better than the police. But no one is innocent in this city. Even so, he understood the implicit threat--not that Wendy's mother would bring him down herself, but that either woman could very well call the police. And the last thing he wanted was to get law enforcement involved.

"...Fine," he snarled at last, turning on his heel with a twirl of his vigilante cape. "You can live a while longer. But I'll be back, and then you'll regret your sins."

He heard her gasp but didn't bother sparing her another glance as he let his form dissolve into a splash of red-tinted ice, sinking through her floorboards and off to thwart another criminal.

Slowly and carefully as a technician deactivating a bomb, Neil set the three of spades down across the top of the three other cards he'd lined up on the table. The humble beginnings of a tower stood for a moment, and he held his breath eagerly as he reached for another card to place on top, only for it to suddenly shudder and collapse like an anime girl who'd stood in the rain for too long.

"Dang it!" Neil threw his hands in the air in exasperation. When he did, a droplet of his own blood landed on his glasses, and he realized with a start that his hand was bleeding--just a paper cut, but still, he'd better wash up.

As he ran his hand under cold water, transfixed by the sight of the blood swirling down the drain, a sudden cracking noise rang out just above him. His head snapped up to stare at the spontaneously cracked bathroom mirror. His reflection stared back, stricken and gaunt, as shards of shattered glass rained down into the sink, where they mixed with the water and the blood. Neil shivered, his breath quickening.

Icy water... ice, blood, broken mirrors. All mixed together. Shattered. Blood, guts, ice, mixed together, down the drain. My fault my fault my fault my fault--

"No," he whimpered, squeezing his eyes shut and digging his nails into his scalp as hard as he could. "No! I didn't do it, I didn't... I didn't mean to..."

Deep breaths, a voice in the back of his head reminded him. It sounded like Kevin's voice, worried to the point of being slightly patronizing. Neil grimaced, annoyed at his own brain for manifesting its self-preservation in such a way, but he complied nonetheless. Keeping his eyes wrenched shut, he took several deep breaths in and out until his heartbeat slowed to normal--he hadn't even noticed it speeding up--and his hands didn't shake when he lowered them away from his head.

"Hey, you know what'd really make me feel better?" he said aloud to nobody in particular, putting on a broad smile and wiping his hands off on a towel. "A nice hot bath! Yep, that'll counteract my blood running cold, alright..."

He ran his hands up and down his arms as he spoke, although he didn't know who he was trying to fool; the chill that had settled into his bones had nothing to do with the temperature. In fact, he wasn't entirely sure who this whole performance of forced cheerfulness was meant for... the studio, maybe. He wouldn't put it past them to hide cameras everywhere. Either way, even if it wouldn't fix his psychological issues, a bath really would be pretty nice. He put the plug in and started running the tub, with the water temperature set just hot enough that it would scald him a little at first.

He wasn't sure exactly what happened when he sat down on the edge of the tub to take his socks off, whether he slipped on something or leaned too far back or what, but suddenly he lost balance. And by the time he realized he was falling backward, he only had a split-second to curse his rotten luck before his head connected with the wall and he blacked out.

In the end, Kevin managed to get a pretty good haul from Ryan's house. In addition to the stuff he and Neil could use for their webisode, he'd retrieved the calendars and a couple other things it looked like Ryan had stolen from them, as well as their old communicator wristwatches. (He wasn't sure if the watches fell into the camp of things Ryan had stolen, or if they'd just brought them over to his place for a sleepover once and forgotten them there. Either way, Kevin figured it could come in handy to start using them again.)

"Hey, Neil," he called as he stepped into the clubhouse with the box in his arms and kicked the door shut behind him. "I'm back."

There was no reply. Frowning, Kevin set the box down with a slight grunt of effort and wandered through the living room and down the hall. There were a few playing cards scattered on the table, suggesting that Neil had been trying to make a house of cards but given up halfway. Kevin couldn't really blame him for that; assembling cards in such a way that they'd actually stay upright was yet another thing that had been more in Ryan's ballpark than in either of theirs. Still, that didn't explain where Neil was now...

"Neil? You there, bud?" Still being met with no answer, Kevin came to a stop outside the bathroom door, which was ajar with water pooling out from inside. "Oh, man, that's not a good sign..."

He gave a tentative knock, and when there was still no response, grabbed the handle and pushed the door open. The sight that met his eyes when he did so immediately made his breath hitch and his blood run cold. The broken mirror over the vanity reflected his slack-jawed expression as he stared at the overflowing bathtub, the pair of still-clothed legs dangling over the rim, and the smudge of blood on the wall leading down to the head of the man those legs belonged to, slumped inside the tub with his head submerged in the water.

"Neil!!"

Kevin sprinted across the room to lift Neil out of the tub. It then took him a few seconds longer to turn off the faucet and pull the plug, as by that point the shock had turned to dread and his hands were shaking. Once the water was slowly starting to drain, he fell to his knees and pulled Neil tight to his chest, one hand clutching at the back of his soaked-through t-shirt while the other fumbled across the back of his head searching for the source of the blood. It didn't take long for him to find the slightly matted patch of damp hair indicating where Neil had banged his head against the wall. Kevin swallowed hard as dread leapt up to claw at his throat. The only question is... how long was he submerged?

"Neil," he whispered, and was almost embarrassed to hear how hoarsely his own voice came out. "Wake up. Please."

No response. Kevin reluctantly pulled back to hold Neil at an arm's length, and shuddered at how limply his friend's body flopped forward. He noticed, with a white-hot jolt of irrational anger, that the four-leaf clover was still in place. Fat lot of good that thing's done for him. He grabbed the clover and crumpled it in his fist, all the while tears pressed against the back of his eyes; he struggled not to let them fall. Damn it... first Ryan, now Neil... What kind of protector was he? What kind of friend?

He slammed his fist, the useless clover still clenched within, against the drenched floor tiles. At that moment, the lightbulb above his head exploded and sent sparking wires raining down around him. As soon as electricity met water, it sent a nasty shock through Kevin's veins; he screamed out of equal parts surprise and pain and scrambled up onto the countertop, which was barely wide enough to support him.

On the floor below, Neil's body convulsed. Then his eyes snapped open and he drew in a gasp that turned into a scream halfway through. Although touching his friend's hand sent the current through his own body for a moment, Kevin was quick to grab him anyway, and he managed to pull Neil safely out of the electrified water and into a fierce embrace. Neil kept shrieking, and he squirmed frantically around, not seeming to recognize his surroundings at first.

"It's alright, Neil," Kevin assured him despite how hard his own heart was pounding. "I've got you."

"Oh..." Neil's body slackened, and he pulled back to blink slowly at Kevin, realization dawning in his eyes. His cheeks coloured with embarrassment and he ducked his head. "Uh, thanks."

Neither of them said anything else, for lack of ability or perhaps willingness to put it into words. After a moment, Kevin realized he was still holding the clover, and he handed it back to Neil, who took it with a dip of his head and a murmur of acknowledgement, and pinned it to his soaking wet t-shirt.

Somehow out of everything in the room, themselves included, that little scrap of plant matter was still intact. And although he wasn't superstitious, that simple fact was what would stick in Kevin's mind for the rest of the day, turning it over until he could only conclude: Yep, there's definitely something weird going on with that thing.

Despite the many months he'd prowled the city, this was the vigilante's first time in the hideout of a proper gang. It looked about the way he expected: dimly lit, no windows, weapons hung up on the wall and cigarette butts littering the floor. The gang members, dressed primarily in leather jackets with a few in denim, lounged in chairs leaning too far back, or on top of tables, or on their motorcycles parked right in the middle of the room. Most of them didn't even notice the vigilante as he approached. They were too caught up chattering and cackling amongst themselves like a nest of overgrown crows. The one gang member who did seem to notice the vigilante from the get-go simply looked up at him with raised eyebrows and addressed him once he got close enough to strike.

"Hey, haven't seen you around before. Looking to join the club?"

"Hardly," he snarled. "This whole place is crawling with criminals."

The whole room broke into laughter at that. The vigilante gritted his teeth, fists clenching at his sides. These people were different from the criminals he'd taken down before; between their numbers and all the weapons they had easy access to, they might just pose a serious threat if he wasn't careful.

"You're the ones, aren't you?" he went on once the laughter had died down and the gang members were all watching him with a mix of bemusement and curiosity. No trace of fear amongst them yet, but that would change... "Throwing bricks at innocent people, even seeking to damage their property. Absolutely detestable."

"Woah, hang on," another of the gang members cut in sharply, reaching for a weapon as they stood. "First off, the whole brick throwing thing was months ago. Second of all, we never did that to innocent people, you know!"

"Yeah!" yet another gang member cut in, pumping her fist in the air. "Only to those losers who blew up our boss!"

...Boss?

The vigilante slowly turned, a deeper chill than normal running down his spine, as a strangely familiar smug cackle echoed from behind him. He came face-to-face with a man in a tank top and baseball cap, sneering at him with his arms crossed. Max. Gulping, the vigilante took a step backward. He's their boss?

(How did he know that name? How had he known Wendy's name either, for that matter? Why, out of all the criminals in the city, did a select few ignite disproportionate resentment within him? He'd dealt with some of these people before, he knew, but when he tried to remember when and how it all just turned to slush in his brain.)

"Yep, those losers got what was coming to 'em," Max said. "Except not really, 'cause they didn't suffer enough. But it's okay, we'll get 'em extra hard next time."

"No..." For reasons he couldn't quite explain, the vigilante's voice shook with equal parts fury and sudden fear. "Don't you dare hurt them."

"Huh?" Max tilted his head, already slightly squinted eyes narrowing further. "Heyyy, wait a minute, aren't you one of--?"

Before he could finish that thought, the vigilante was upon him with a karate chop to the windpipe. It was a more reckless attack than he'd planned, and even as Max stumbled backward coughing, he could hear the rest of the gang grabbing their weapons and running up behind him. But it was fine; the vigilante could take them all on and then some. He could kill any number of people if it was for the sake of defending his friends.

(Friends? Did he have friends? Somehow it felt that he must have, once. But that was strange, because the only thing he could clearly remember himself ever being was a cold-blooded vigilante.)

"Don't you see? Society's the one to blame! It's society's fault that he had no choice but to become this way!"

As Kevin delivered this speech, waving his arms dramatically toward the focus of the scene, Neil spun the video camera around to point it toward himself. Hopefully the studio would think of the disorienting cinematography for this webisode as a bold artistic choice rather than thinking of it as amateurish and embarrassing. He then leapt back, breaking into maniacal laughter with his prop gun raised in the air. Under ideal circumstances, this role might have been better suited to Ryan, but... well, they couldn't stay hung up on him forever; they had a job to do.

"Eh-heh-heh! Thanks to society, I have the urge to kill!" Neil twirled around to show off his clown costume, while just out of frame, Kevin hastily put on a wig and fake mustache. "And now... I'll kill this innocent man, who's different than the guy who was talking a minute ago!"

(It was fascinating--fascinating and dumb--how a broken mirror and a bit of blood could set him off, but something as heavy as a gun in his hand only brought him the faintest twinge of discomfort, easily ignored for the sake of making a webisode. After all, as Kevin had assured him many times over the past few months, it was the gun and its villainous weilder who were to blame for what had happened to Ryan. On an intellectual level Neil knew that was true--and besides, if he hadn't deflected that bullet, all three of them would have died. But knowing that did nothing to redirect when and why the darkness in his brain manifested.)

Now, much to Neil's surprise as he took aim with his prop gun, Kevin shouted "Cut!" and walked across the abandoned lot they were filming in to turn the camera off.

Neil lowered the gun, confused, as his costar removed his costume with that now all-too-familiar look of concern etched across his face. "What's the matter?"

"I don't know... somehow I've just got a bad feeling about this," Kevin muttered. "Maybe try firing into the air a couple times first."

Neil complied, and was met with the expected result from the prop: a couple of clicks indicating an empty chamber. "You worry too much these days, Kev," he said as he fired one more blank into the sky and then lowered the prop again. "It's not a real gun; it can't--"

As he spoke, his finger accidentally pressed the trigger again, and he broke off with a yelp at the sudden burst of pain in his right foot. He dropped the apparently very real gun with a clatter and clutched at his injured appendage, losing his balance in the process. Kevin swore under his breath and rushed forward to catch him. Before his friend could reach him, Neil's other foot came down on a wide crack in the pavement. A chill ran through him, momentarily distracting him from the throbbing pain, but it passed as quickly as it arose without seeming to trigger any effects.

"By god, what's happening to you?" Kevin exclaimed as he grabbed Neil by the shoulders and held him upright. "You've been so unlucky lately, it... it almost seems like a curse."

"A curse?" Neil stiffened, but quickly forced himself to shrug and morphed his grimace into a dismissive eye-roll. "Pfft, what are you talking about? There's no curse! I've just been, y'know, having an off-day..."

"Neil." There was that concerned look again, that almost parental tone of voice, as Kevin stared him down and tightened his grip on Neil's shoulders. "A couple hours ago you almost died, and now... you can tell something weird is going on, right? And, look--" He sighed, gaze darkening. "I don't exactly know how to fix it, but whatever's happening, I can't just sit back and watch you succumb to it. I can't lose you, too, Neil... not after..."

He trailed off with a faint warble in his voice, lowering his head. Neil gulped, a heavy weight surfacing in his chest. It was true; though he hated to admit it, at this point it was hard to deny that he was cursed. And yet, even as his foot throbbed around the spot where the bullet was lodged and his shoe was slowly stained from within by his own blood, it was hard to convince himself that he should accept help. On some level, didn't he deserve this? Wasn't this a fitting comeuppance for getting one of his friends killed?

Yet here was his other friend, clutching at him ever tighter to the point where his grip on Neil's shoulders was nearly as painful as hitting his head or getting mildly electrocuted or shooting himself in the foot. I'm not the only one who lost Ryan, he reminded himself--another thing he knew perfectly well on an intellectual level, but easy to forget in practice. Kevin is hurting too. I shouldn't make him hurt any more.

"Fine, I admit it," he sighed, letting his tensed-up shoulders slump. "I'm unlucky, okay? And if you think it's possible--" He tore the clover off his shirt and glared down at it-- "then we're going to beat this thing."

For as tough as the gang presented themselves, it must have been most of these people's first time in an actual fight. The vigilante swerved to avoid weak punches, clumsy kicks, poor attempts at stabbing. It all blended together after a while, and he stopped thinking of the gang members as individuals; they were just an indistinguishable swarm of insects whose attacks were easily dodged. Unimportant, save for their leader.

The vigilante had Max pinned to the floor now, holding his thrashing form in place with one arm while he brought his other fist down on the ruffian's face, over and over, as hard as he could. Not every blow connected cleanly, and Max had managed to bite him several times already, but that was irrelevant. Criminals must be brought to justice. That was why the vigilante hated these people, wasn't it? Because they were criminals. Yes, what other reason could he have, when this was all he'd ever been?

And then, just as he managed to land a blow to Max's jaw that left him defiantly spitting out blood and a couple of teeth, the vigilante's spine snapped.

It took a moment for him to register what had happened. He just heard a loud crack, and a sharp pain shot through him, and suddenly he couldn't hold his legs in place and collapsed. Max wasted no time taking advantage; he delivered a kick to the vigilante's gut that sent him flying back across the room, where he hit a wall and slumped to the ground, gasping in breathless agony. At once the other gang members closed in on him. Grimacing, the vigilante drew himself up onto his hands and knees, then braced himself against the wall and, with a far greater strain of effort than expected, dragged himself upright. By the time he'd managed to get to his feet, dozens of knives were inches away from him.

Then, to his surprise, Max pushed through to the front of the crowd and held his arms out to hold back his underlings. "Nuh-uh, this one's mine," he told them, sneering as though oblivious to the blood dribbling from between his lips. "I said I'd get him twice tomorrow, and I meant it."

The vigilante flinched as Max took a swipe at him. But rather than a fist connecting with his face, he was met only with the shock of exposure as the bully grabbed his mask and triumphantly yanked it off his face. He was left dumbfounded, blinking, as his vision readjusted to the light.

Wait a minute, I remember--

And then came the punch, square in the nose. Ryan yelped, pressing his gloved hand over his nose to stop the bleeding. When he dodged another punch, his body failed to cooperate and he crashed to the ground again, back aching furiously and heart pounding against his ribcage.

How and why his back had broken, he couldn't say, but one thing was clear: he was horrendously outmatched. Max was saying something now, gloating as he advanced on Ryan with a dagger in his hands, but Ryan couldn't make out the words over the blood rushing in his head. Why on earth had he gotten into a fight like this in the first place? What was he doing? He had to get out of there!

With that thought, yet another thing happened that Ryan didn't entirely understand. (Ryan didn't understand, but the vigilante did. It was one of the few things the vigilante knew: dissolve, reform, enact ruthless vengeance, dissolve again.) His body shuddered, and suddenly he found his solid flesh and bone giving way to a slurry of blood and ice that slipped through the cracks in the floor and disappeared. Then he was formless, freefalling through the dark, or at least that was what it felt like. When he took shape again it felt like dragging himself out of quicksand. Yet when he raised his slowly resolidifying head and looked around, he found himself in the basement of his own home, staring up at the portraits of his ancestors that had started it all.

No. Not started it all. "I had a life before this," he whispered, voice raw with the shock of memory and too many months spent speaking in an inhuman growl. "My name is Ryan, I have a life and a job and friends, I..."

Yes, that's right. Friends. Where were they? He closed his eyes and tried to remember. Each recent memory that took form in his mind was accompanied by a crashing wave of guilt and regret, and soon his body shook and tears pricked at his wrenched-shut eyes. That's right... I became a vigilante, and I teamed up with such a horrible person, let him manipulate me, all because I was too afraid to go back and apologize. And then...

The last thing he remembered, just after the flash of light and shock of paralyzing cold, was the sound of a gunshot, something shattering, and Neil screaming.

"Oh, dear god," Ryan whispered. He raised his head, opening his eyes and lowering his hands from his newly tear-stained face, and sat back on his heels as though worshipping the paintings before him. "What have I become?"

The ropes were just slightly too tight around Neil's limbs to be comfortable; he couldn't resist squirming a little as Kevin laid out the open bible on the end table next to his proton pack and began reading from it.

"Okay, um, let's see... ex-or-ciz-amus te, omnis immunde spiritus..." He squinted at the yellowed, faded pages, biting his lip. "Omni satanica pot-es-tas, omnis incurs--incursio infernalis adversarii... uh..."

"You're doing great," Neil called from his position tied to the bed frame; Kevin gave him a weary smile and thumbs up.

As Kevin continued reciting the verse, occasionally stumbling over a particularly tricky Latin word, the room's temperature eventually dropped a few degrees. Neil shivered, but his heartbeat picked up in excitement. He could feel something stirring in his blood like ripples on a lake, and when the furniture in the room began to quiver, so too did his body in eager anticipation.

"...Crux sacra sit mihi lux! Nunquam draco sit mihi dux..." A chill wind swept through the room; Kevin gritted his teeth, one hand pressing down on the bible to hold its pages in place while he grabbed his proton pack with the other. "Vade retro Satana! Nun-quam-suade mihi vana!"

The furniture rumbled louder. Neil's eyes widened as an entire bookcase lifted off the ground. "Kevin, watch out!"

"Hang on, Neil, I'm almost done. Uh, where was I... sunt mala quae libas..."

"No, Kevin, the--"

"Just one more line, okay? Ipse ven--"

"KEVIN!"

That last terrified yell was what it took for Kevin to finally turn, just in time to see the six-foot block of polished oak fly directly into him. Neil shrieked and thrashed against his bindings with all his might, but even if he weren't tied up, there was nothing he could have done. The bookcase came crashing down, its contents spilling out onto the floor around it in a flurry of paper. And when the dust settled, Kevin was pinned beneath it, unmoving.

"N... no..." Neil whimpered. Dread tightened like a noose around his throat as the horrible thought seeped into his mind: This is because of me. Now I've gotten them both killed.

"Oh, yes, what a tragedy... just your luck, isn't it?"

Neil's blood ran cold. He raised his head to see the translucent, smoke-shrouded figure of a giant clover looming over him. Its four leaves, dark green tipped with crimson and speckled with barnacles, opened down the middle to reveal a row of needle-sharp fangs. For a second, "Where did you come from?" was on the tip of Neil's tongue. But it was just as well that he was too terrified to speak, because no sooner than the question appeared in his mind, he realized the obvious answer. Oh, right. This is the demon that cursed me.

"Don't worry, your friend is alive... for now," the demon jeered. "But that could change. It's so easy for accidents to happen, you know?"

As if to demonstrate, the demon's leaves fluttered and suddenly a fire sprang up dangerously close to the scattered pile of books on the floor. When Neil screamed in protest, the demon laughed, and part of the ceiling gave in, sending down a controlled shower of debris to put out the fire before anything flammable could catch.

"Okay, okay, I get it!" Neil exclaimed with a shake of his head; he'd be almost exasperated if he weren't so terrified. "You're really powerful and want to hurt people, geez, not exactly a challenging concept. So, what do I have to do?"

That question seemed to give the demon pause. "...Do?"

"You know, to appease you or whatever. If you're threatening me with Kevin's life, then there must be something you want from me, right?" An idea occurred to Neil just then, and his already hammering heart beat even harder, to the point where he hoped the demon couldn't hear it and tell how freaked out he was. "Hey, it must suck having to be a clover. What if a lawnmower or forest fire had gotten to you before I did? And if you like hurting people so much..." He paused, smirking as the demon leaned toward him with obvious interest. "Wouldn't it be easier just to possess my whole body instead of wasting time messing with my luck?"

"That's..." The demon hesitated, its leaves curling up in what looked like excitement. "Ah. Ah-ha-ha! You're a clever little mortal, aren't you?"

"But don't get it twisted," he put in, glaring defiantly up at the demon despite hardly being in a position to threaten anyone. "You have to promise not to hurt anyone else. Especially not Kevin."

"It's a deal!"

Before Neil could stop and reconsider whether this was really a good idea, the demon dove toward him, row of fangs wide open as though it were going to bite his head off. He flinched a split-second before something cold and stinging like nettles clamped around him.

When he opened his eyes again, the world was tinted dark green as if viewed through a dingy screen, his head felt hazy... and he couldn't move, at least not of his own volition. Even opening his eyes just then wasn't his decision. He heard himself cackle, felt his arms and legs flex far harder than he'd known he was physically capable of flexing, breaking the ropes that bound him to the bed frame and setting his body free to do whatever the demon wanted.

"Hah..." the demon muttered in his voice as it made him walk over to where Kevin lay, still trapped and unconscious. The demon knelt down and poked experimentally at Kevin's shoulder and forearm. "This one has more muscle. It might have been a better choice for possession, if it wasn't so damaged already..."

For one petrifying moment, the demon grabbed Kevin's head and stared intently at him, stretching Neil's face into a grin so wide it made his whole face ache, and Neil's mind raced with horrible thoughts of things the demon might make his own hands inflict upon his poor helpless friend. But the demon simply laughed and dropped Kevin, who let out a low groan as his head lolled to the side--an indication that at least he really was still alive. But all of a sudden Neil had trouble believing that small mercy was really worth it.

"Ah, well, this body will do," the demon decided. "Let's take it out on the town and see how long it lasts!"

This time when the vigilante materialized in Wendy's room, she did little more than roll her eyes and move to grab her baseball bat. However, rather than try to attack her or even growl out any threats, the vigilante took two shaky steps and then collapsed, catching himself against her dresser. Wendy's eyes widened as she took a closer look at his face. His mask was off now, revealing a pair of striking blue eyes glistening with obvious distress, cheeks flushed with exertion, and a streak of half-dried blood running from his bruised nose. And when he spoke, it wasn't in the gravelly tone she'd heard from him before, but in a quiet higher-pitched voice--almost a whimper.

"Please... tell me..."

Wendy hung back, caught between a sharp tug of sympathy in her heart and a very rational wariness based on their previous encounter. The vigilante tried to walk again, and again nearly fell; his face wrenched up and he let out a pained hiss. At that, sympathy won out over rationality. Wendy edged toward him with her baseball bat in hand, and when she was close enough, held it out to him.

"Hey, uh... here. It's not exactly medically sanctioned, but maybe you could use this like a cane?"

"Oh... good idea, thank you!" He broke into a grin, and Wendy shivered; somehow he was far scarier when his eyes were bright and cheerful. "Terribly sorry for how I treated you last time, by the way. I really wasn't myself."

"Uh-huh?" While the vigilante tested out the makeshift cane, Wendy sat down on her bed, arms crossed. "And who are you, anyway?"

"I'm Ryan... or at least I think I still am." His smile faltered, and he looked away, anxiously running a hand through his hair. It was starting to come unpinned, and his hat was askew; evidently he'd been through a lot in the few hours it had been since their first encounter. "It's been... strange, lately. I don't think I'm entirely human anymore, if I ever was. But I came back here because there's something I want to understand."

"You want to know why I ghosted your friend?" It was just a guess, but Ryan nodded; Wendy smiled privately to herself for having figured it out. "Alright, I can tell you..."

She uncrossed her arms and leaned back on her bed, thinking back to the disastrous date she'd gone on several months prior. It was a story she'd recited many times to friends, relatives, other first dates as sort of a half-joking warning ("So, as long as you don't blow it as much as that guy did, we should be good...") and the more she told it, the more warped and exaggerated it became within her memory. But when she really thought back on it now, it hadn't been so disastrous at all--pretty damn awkward, sure, but not even close to the worst date she'd been on.

"Kevin actually seemed really sweet," she recalled, smiling despite herself at the memory of his big dorky grin. "I would have gone on a second date with him. But then, first thing the next morning, I read in the news that some guy got arrested right outside the restaurant while we were on our date. And the criminal's name? Neil. Same name as the 'friend' Kevin had said was helping him out." She shrugged, lips twisting into a frown. "I just got kinda freaked out, you know? Like, 'oh geez, did I go on a date with a drug dealer or serial killer or something?' Of course it probably wasn't anything that serious, and pretending to be dead was probably an overreaction, but... well, what's done is done."

Wendy was so caught up in her own memories as she explained all this that she wasn't really observing Ryan's reactions. Once she concluded her story, she glanced over to find him sitting on the floor with his legs tucked up awkwardly beneath him, the baseball bat in his lap; he was staring at the floor, expression unreadable. He stayed like that for a long moment, not seeming to notice that Wendy had stopped talking, until she cleared her throat. Then he jumped to attention, eyes flashing like those of a woodland cryptid in headlights.

"Ah! Yes, of course... well, I still don't entirely understand, but I think I resent you less now." Ryan tilted his head and shot her another shiver-inducing grin. (Whether it was supposed to be threatening or not, she had no idea.) "And you're right; I almost forgot--we're all criminals too, Neil and probably even Kevin and especially myself! So how can I be a vigilante?" He answered his own rhetorical question with a shake of his head, manic grin softening into a melancholy smile. "It's ridiculous. I've been so foolish."

With that, his body began to ripple, losing a little of its solidity. But before he could break apart and dissolve through the floorboards like last time, a chirpy little beep-beep-beedle-beep noise rang out. Ryan's eyebrows shot up, and he glanced down at an accessory around his wrist... Wait, is that one of those communicator watches like the one Kevin had?

If it was, Ryan wasn't quick to answer it. He simply stared, wide-eyed and slack-jawed, at the beeping device in silence. Although she knew even less about Ryan than she knew about his apparently only slightly more normal friends, and she didn't normally care to get too involved in the personal affairs of strangers, he was still in the middle of Wendy's bedroom. And the longer that little jingle repeated, the more annoying it got. So she cleared her throat again and asked, in as polite a tone as she could manage given the circumstances,

"So, are you gonna answer that, or what?"

It was a stupid, pointless idea. Not an idea at all, really. Just the last scraps of... not even hope, that was pretty much deplenished at the moment, but effort. The effort not to let everything fall apart even further than it already had.

Kevin had woken with a throbbing pain throughout pretty much his whole body. Judging by the crushing weight pressing down on his torso, he was lucky to have woken up at all. The only parts of him not pinned down were his head and right arm, and even those hurt to move, though at least the spinning in his head put some degree of separation between himself and his broken body. Forget about trying to wriggle free when it hurt just to breathe.

So there he was, stuck, the shelf slowly crushing the air out of him, and Neil was gone. Where to, he didn't know. When he craned his neck he could see the empty bed frame, and the ropes broken and discarded at the foot of it. The bible he'd gotten from Ryan's house was facedown beside the tipped-over end table, next to a crushed and twisted lump of metal and plastic that he was horrified to recognize as his beloved proton pack. So wherever Neil was now, he must have still been cursed... or worse. And there was nothing Kevin could do about it.

Unless. Grimacing at the way his joints twinged, he raised his unpinned arm above his head. There on his wrist, perfectly intact despite everything he'd been through, was his communicator wristwatch. In all the hubbub of that day, he'd never gotten around to mentioning them to Neil, so his friend wouldn't be wearing his. But what if...?

It was stupid. It was pointless. There was no way in hell. But it was the only thing he could do. In a display so lacking in dignity that he was grateful nobody was around to see it, Kevin used his teeth and tongue for lack of a free hand to dial in the frequency and send off a signal. The watch's screen flashed in affirmation; he let his head flop against the floor with a weary sigh. Now all he could do was wait.

When he was at Ryan's house going through his things, and he found those communicator wristwatches, he'd only found two of them. And although that could have meant a dozen different things, there was just one wild, far-fetched possibility that any last semblance of hope now rested upon: that the third watch was missing because Ryan was alive, and he was still wearing his.

He didn't expect to get a response. By the time he did, he was struggling to stay awake--funny thing, trying to breathe with fifty pounds of wood pressed directly on your chest really takes it out of you. But he snapped to attention, or the closest he could get when his head was swimming and his body was beginning to go numb from lack of circulation, the moment he heard that voice crackling through the speaker.

"H-hello? Kevin?"

The relief that coursed through his veins was so overwhelming, especially on top of everything else, that he could only laugh--only for it to quickly turn into hacking as his ribs offered a sharp jab of protest. He raised his sleeve to wipe away a streak of blood that dribbled from his lips before speaking into the watch.

"Ryan. Where are you?" He regretted wasting time with that question the moment he asked it; he could tell from the way his organs felt like they were curling in on themselves as he spoke that he didn't have the energy for a full conversation. So before Ryan could stammer out a proper response, Kevin continued: "Neil is in trouble. You've gotta help him."

"What?" The shrill uptick of anxiety in Ryan's voice was palpable, and even just hearing that voice in and of itself stirred up a whole miasma of feelings that there was no time to properly react to. "What's going on? Are you okay? You sound--"

"I'm fine," Kevin lied through gritted teeth. "And... I don't know exactly where Neil is, but I know he's in trouble." A choking mix of emotions and his own blood swelled in his throat as his slowly blurring gaze wandered to the facedown bible. "I've tried to do some stuff today that I couldn't do without you. I-- we need you, Ryan. So, please... help."

With that final plea, something broke within him like a dam that he hadn't even realized was cracking. His arm flopped to the ground, wrist landing near his ear, where the communicator watch kept emitting Ryan's voice as it slowly rose in pitch until he was almost shouting. But even as his friend called frantically out to him, Kevin found it harder to make out the words. He groaned, letting his head loll to the side and his eyes fall shut. The last sensation he was aware of as darkness closed around him was that there was something wet on his face.

"Kevin, are you still there? Hello? Kevin!"

He wasn't responding. Why wouldn't he be responding, if the situation was so urgent? Maybe because he couldn't respond. Because he was--

"What are you going to do?" Wendy's voice cut into the swirl of panic Ryan was rapidly descending into. She hovered over his shoulder, peering down at the watch with wide, anxious eyes. The watch's screen had gone dark. No signal. Yes, indeed, what to do?

"What else? I have to save Neil."

If Kevin didn't know where Neil was, then there was no way that Ryan should have been able to instantly find him. But when he closed his eyes and let his vigilante instincts take over, he found that he didn't have to know where someone was. Whatever dark magic was infused in him now, letting him exist in this not-quite-human state even after what should by all accounts have been his death, it was hardwired for vengeance. And saving Neil meant exacting vigilante justice on whoever or whatever was harming him. With that in mind, the vigilante dissolved in a flurry of blood-tinted ice and reformed seconds later in the place it somehow knew it needed to be.

The first thing Ryan noticed when he appeared on the rooftop was the storm brewing overhead. He raised his eyebrows at that; earlier that day there hadn't been a cloud in the sky--and for that matter, when he looked around, it appeared that most of the sky was still perfectly clear, with the storm clouds being localized around this building. The second thing he noticed, upon peering over the edge of the roof, was that he wasn't on just any rooftop, but a skyscraper that towered above every other building in the vicinity. Lastly, he noticed a flagpole at the far corner of the rooftop, several feet away from him. And that was when his gaze fell upon Neil.

Neil was laughing as he swayed back and forth, clad in a brightly patterned jacket that wasn't his usual style at all, his arms and legs wrapped tight around the tall metal pole. Above him, the dark clouds lit up in a flash, followed almost instantly by a rumble of thunder. Although these particular stormclouds didn't come with rain, Ryan shivered. An incredulous exclamation was on the tip of his tongue (What on earth are you doing, stop it, you'll be killed!) when Neil locked eyes with Ryan, and he realized with a jolt of horror that this wasn't Neil at all--his body, yes, but someone or something else was controlling it. His mouth was stretched into a grin far wider than what a human face could normally achieve, and rather than their usual brown, his eyes glowed a sickly shade of green.

"Why, if it isn't my dear friend Ryan!" Neil--or whatever was piloting him--called, raising one arm off the pole in an exaggerated wave. "Oh boy, the guy I got this body from is sure surprised to see you alive! And as much as I'd love to send you plummeting off the edge of this building, I did promise not to hurt anyone else, so..." He waved his hand in a circle, unnaturally glowing eyes crinkling with amusement. "How about instead I pull you in a little closer so you can get a nice good look when your friend's body fries?"

With that, a sudden gust of wind blew into Ryan from behind, sending him stumbling forward. When he attempted to regain his footing, his broken spine betrayed him once again and he flopped to the ground with an undignified oof just a few feet away from the base of the flagpole. Grimacing, he pushed himself up and crawled the remaining short distance to grab Neil's ankle. As he did so, he noticed there was a bloodstained hole in his friend's shoe, and that his pant leg was slightly damp and already bore a few singe marks. Between that and whatever had happened to Kevin... he shuddered at the thought of what his friends had gone through in his absence.

"Nice try, vigilante," the thing in Neil's body jeered. "But I've gotta say, you don't pose much of a threat since I broke your spine."

He stomped his other foot down on Ryan's hand; Ryan yelped and instinctively released his grip. And at the very instant he let go, in such perfectly unlucky timing that only a supernatural entity could orchestrate, the stormclouds above them opened up with a searing, crackling, blindingly bright lighting strike.

Neil tilted his head back and laughed at the top of his lungs as countless volts of electricity tore through him. That horrendous laughter drowned out Ryan's screams of protest, not that there was anything he could do anyway in his current state, when he couldn't so much as get to his feet. All he could do was lay there and gape in horror as Neil's body shuddered and his flesh began to sizzle and burn.

Though it felt like an eternity of torture, the lightning strike couldn't have lasted for more than a few seconds. When it ended, Neil dropped like a ragdoll into Ryan's arms. Ryan, too stricken to even check for a pulse, simply stared blankly into his friend's glazed-over eyes. Then Neil blinked, and his eyes were glowing green again, and he laughed, the sound rougher now that it was being produced by a charred set of lungs.

"Ah-ha-ha-ha! I wasn't expecting this body to survive that! Can you believe Neil is still kicking in here?" He tapped a finger against his head, then sat up with a playful kick of his legs. "...Or is he? It would be just like a demon to lie, wouldn't it?" He grabbed Ryan's chin with his burnt and blackened fingernails and forcefully tilted his head up so their gazes met. "You can't tell, can you, vigilante? So, how hard are you willing to throw your broken body around to try and save someone who might already be toast? Maybe you should just give up and go on with your day, hmm?"

While the demon taunted him, Ryan's mind raced to concoct a plan. Some miraculous last-minute solution that would fix everything... Neil would be able to think of one. Perhaps he already had. But that wouldn't do them any good when Neil was trapped and helpless within his own mind. If this really was a demon, and a powerful one at that, the only thing that might work was an impromptu exorcism.

"Crux sacra sit mihi lux! Nunquam draco sit mihi dux! Vade retro Satana!" Reciting the passage from memory as rapidly as he could without tripping over his tongue, Ryan grabbed Neil by the wrists and held him tight while he hissed and tried to jerk away. "Nunquamsuade mihi vana! Sunt mala quae libas. Ipse venena bibas!"

An ungodly noise somewhere between a shriek and a roar erupted from Neil as he tossed his head back and convulsed. It was far too visually similar for comfort to his electrocution less than a minute prior, and Ryan wondered if the demon was doing it that way on purpose in an attempt to scare him into stopping. If so, it wouldn't work. Even if this process was as painful for Neil as it was for the demon possessing him, it had to be done.

Sure enough, as the final line of the chant echoed across the rooftop, Neil shuddered and slumped to the ground next to Ryan. When their gazes met this time, the demonic glow was gone, but Neil was breathing fast and shallow and his eyes were wide with lingering terror.

"Ryan," he whispered. "You're... alive."

"I think so," he replied with a tentative smile. "It's all a little confusing. But we're going to be okay now, Neil."

However, no sooner had those words left his mouth than Neil stiffened up again, eyes momentarily flashing green. "No," he gasped, squeezing his eyes shut and shaking his head as if to dispel the demon's grasp. "Not yet. Still gotta... get rid of it..." He grabbed Ryan's hands and held them desperately tight, like a scared child clinging to their parent or older sibling. His eyes flashed once more, and this time when the glow faded, his face bore a strained smile. "I've got an idea. Ryan, don't freak out."

And with that, before Ryan could process what was happening and reach out to stop him, Neil sprung to his feet and took a running leap off the edge of the building.

For a while now, Neil had been having unusually vivid dreams. They weren't always nightmares, but they often were. Dreams about different worlds, different realities, different lives. Ones where him and Kevin and Ryan weren't all friends. Or worse, ones where they still were, but that wasn't enough to save them. One of those recent dreams, which began as an exciting fantasy only to devolve into a nightmare, was about some kind of flying vehicle. Ever since having that dream, Neil had made two vows to himself. Firstly, that as soon as he gathered the funds to afford it, he'd go back to school and complete his aeronautical engineering degree. Secondly, to always carry a parachute, just in case.

But the demon possessing him had no way of knowing that, now did it? And it wouldn't want to still be trapped inside a host body that was splattered all over the pavement. That was what Neil was banking on, at least. Otherwise he might really be in trouble.

As he fell, a stinging sensation rippled through his body. He shuddered, yet there was a smile on his face--no longer a grin stretched unnaturally wide, but an expression of his own volition--and his heart pounded not with terror but with exhilaration and boundless relief. Sure enough, the demon leapt forth from him and departed in a swirl of green smoke. And with it gone, he wasted no time in engaging the parachute--just in time to slow his acceleration enough that the fall wouldn't kill him.

Admittedly, he didn't exactly come down gracefully. He landed in a tangle of limbs and fabric that he had to shrug off the borrowed jacket, parachute and all, in order to escape, and the landing was just rough enough to deliver a painful reminder of the electrical burns covering the better part of his body. Still, Neil couldn't stop grinning as he gingerly picked himself up and dusted himself off. He was alive and no longer possessed; that was a win in his book.

When he craned his neck to look up at the roof, he thought he saw Ryan still sitting there. Neil grimaced as he recalled what the demon had said about breaking Ryan's back; hopefully that injury was undone with the demon being vanquished, but since Neil's injuries were still there, maybe that wasn't so. Either way, he couldn't just leave his friend up there alone.

As quickly as he could run with a bullet wound in his foot, he entered the building and took the closest elevator to the rooftop. But by the time the elevator chimed and its doors slid open, the rooftop was abandoned, with no sign of Ryan save for an abandoned hat, cape, and gloves, and a slowly fading dark red stain.

If Kevin hadn't already been surprised to wake up alive the first time, he sure as hell was now. The only reason he knew he was alive at all was the deep, persistent ache that wracked practically his entire body. That, and the warmth of the hand laid atop his own.

Forcing his eyes open with a pained groan, he turned his head to see the man sitting at his bedside. Ryan squeezed his hand and flashed him a sad smile when their eyes met. His vigilante costume was gone, traded for a simple dress shirt and tie, and his hair fell unpinned around his visibly tired face; the chair he sat in, upon closer inspection, was an old-fashioned wheelchair.

With some effort, Kevin pushed himself into a sitting position. Looking around, he found that he was laying on the couch in the living room with his chest bandaged. How Ryan had managed to pull him out from beneath the bookcase, he had no idea, but he sure wasn't going to complain about it.

"Ryan, you... you're hurt?" It was a stupid question--why else would he be in a wheelchair? "Did the demon...?"

"It's gone now," Ryan responded. "But..." His gaze lowered, and he dropped his hands into his lap to fidget with the blanket draped over his legs. "It was a costly victory, I'm afraid. In order to defeat the demon, Neil--"

His tearful speech was interrupted by the distant bang of the front door being thrown open.

"Geez, you could've told me you were going straight home!" Neil's indignant voice rang out down the hall. "I wandered all over town looking for you."

Ryan's head snapped up, and he and Kevin turned in unison to see their friend running toward them with a slightly crooked gait. With a cry of joyous disbelief, Ryan opened his arms, and Neil tackled him in an embrace that nearly sent him toppling over; Kevin had to lean forward to grab the back of Ryan's chair to keep him upright as he and Neil clung to each other.

"Neil, you're alive! I-I thought..."

"It's okay, Ryan," said Neil. Then, pulling back and glancing at Kevin with a melancholy smile: "I think we're all going to be okay."

"So, what do you think?"

As the ending credits rolled on their latest webisode, Neil and Kevin turned to face Ryan with matching expectant grins.

"Well..." Ryan drummed his fingers against the keys of the laptop and tried to think of something positive to say. "The costumes you used were a lot more fashionable than usual--wait, hold on. Weren't those my clothes?"

They were in Kevin's truck parked outside the studio's headquarters, with Neil in the passenger seat and Ryan in the back. It had taken a little over a week for them to recover to the point where they could comfortably climb inside a vehicle, let alone Kevin being able to actually drive, and the studio had already sent them several notes warning them that their pay would be docked for submitting their webisode behind schedule.

"Ah, yeah, sorry about that," Kevin muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

"To be fair, if he hadn't broken into your house and stolen a bunch of stuff from you, he couldn't have called you on your communicator watch," Neil interjected cheerfully. "Or tried to do an exorcism... but I guess that didn't really work out for him anyway."

"Hey, c'mon, it wasn't stealing!" Kevin gave Neil a gentle shove, prompting him to briefly wince but laugh anyway. "If we'd known you were still alive, we wouldn't have taken your stuff, Ryan, honest."

"Ah, I'll have to remember that for next time," Ryan quipped. He closed the laptop and handed it back to Neil, who tucked it away inside an oversized shoulder bag. "Well, that may not have been the best webisode we've made, but I can tell you two did your best."

"Yeah, it'll be way better once we get back to making them as a trio," Neil said.

It was still amazing to Ryan that his friends were so quick to accept him back after all he'd done. If anything, it made him feel worse about his prolonged absence, because he knew now that he could have come back at any point and they would have been glad to have him. It was easy to fall into regret when thinking of all that had gone wrong, and all that could easily have gone even worse. But the fact was, they were together again now--altered by what they'd gone through, and not entirely for the better, but still themselves.

And despite it all, the preceding events and the possibility that another horrible thing could happen to them in the future, he found himself agreeing with Neil's hopeful statement.

"Indeed..." Ryan reached out and took Neil and Kevin's hands in his own. They smiled back at him with the same residual traces of relief in their eyes that Ryan had felt every so often over the past week--relief that they were still there to smile at each other. "Gentlemen, I look forward to working with you again."

¤--END--¤

#epic gamer protip: plot something out and then mentally tweak it for the whole summer and then when autumn rolls around #write the whole thing in the span of like three days. works like a charm #hey did you know that i write stuff sometimes?

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space-colony-snark · 5 years

Text

The Phantom Obsidian

(A quick fic inspired by and expanding on my earlier post here. Infinite loses the phantom ruby and with it, his grasp on reality. He finds himself flashing through different versions of space-time until an old enemy steps forward to offer help in exchange for a small favor. Post Sonic Forces, somewhat pre-Sonic 06.)

Rating: PG-13 (for cartoon violence, mild swearing, physical descriptions of glitching)

* * * * *

Infinite knew something was wrong the moment the final kick connected with his chest.

He was angry, reckless after that plucky little upstart defused his sun. He knew that. And still he could not stop himself from pouring his anger into grand attacks that ended with a red shoe to his chest. But he never considered-- never conceived, in a million years-- that the ruby might fail him in the end.

Infinite dropped to the platform below like a bag of bricks. Every atom of his body felt like it had staggered left of center by a foot. In a flash his hand was on the phantom ruby, checking it for cracks. It felt whole. He withdrew, satisfied.

Then the glitching started. It felt like swatches of pins-and-needles numbness pulsing all over his body. Infinite stared at his own hand-- there and not-there, flickering in and out-- momentarily stunned.

The sound of the blue nuisance’s voice brought Infinite back. His first instinct was mortification. He couldn’t let the hero know he’d won-- couldn’t let him see this weakness-- how dare he look on with such pity?

“This isn’t over!” Infinite shouted over his shoulder, and made a tactical retreat.

His landing at the top of the fortress’ high tower was a clumsy one, all knees and elbows. Infinite was happy he landed at all, in this state. Eggman was waiting for him.

“So, Sonic slipped through your fingers a third time, hm?” The doctor said, drumming his fingers on his little flying chariot.

Infinite struggled to raise up onto his knees. “Doctor-- the ruby-- its power weakens--” he gasped. “I am slipping--”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Eggman said brightly, his cheer almost disguising the malice underneath. “But I’m afraid there are no sick days in the Eggman Empire.”

With that, he stooped politely and plucked the phantom ruby from Infinite’s chest like a cherry off a sundae.

The effect was immediate.

Infinite’s vision flooded black. He felt himself dragged bodily into a cold void. His stomach lurched. His limbs-- wherever they were in the continuum-- tingled with a mixture of numbness and electricity. He tumbled, his sense of up and down completely lost, until--

He arrived in the familiar emptiness of Null space. It echoed out around him to the edges of vision. Stray blocks floated here and there like schools of fish. Infinite’s nausea subsided. He let himself breathe. To be trapped in a realm of his own making was not such a terrible fate-- far better than the one he feared. Hell, he might even find a way out if that infernal blue nuisance had proved anything. Infinite considered this. Yes, he’d crawl his way out of obsolescence if he had to, and then have a couple of harsh words with his former employer. He reached out lazily for a nearby floating cube.

As he did so, a new wave of energy washed over the space and Infinite arrived at the terrible conclusion that this was not his that it did not belong to him anymore and the glitching resumed with a vengeance and surged up his arm--

He felt a colder, emptier, vacuumous void open across his back and suck him in. Infinite opened his eyes for one brilliant second and saw a space station-- how did he know that?-- shaped like the moon sliced in half--

-- he blinked again and found himself falling over an endless ocean, a floating island on the horizon, shrouded in dense jungle and crowned with a single blindingly green light--

-- and then there were cities, dozens of cities, some crowded with aliens and dying soldiers, some flooded beyond repair--

-- and one that burned like hell itself. The flashing visions hesitated for a moment, like an object thrown in the air pausing before it plummets, and Infinite imagined this burning city could have been his, if only the ruby still remained--

-- his passage through dimensions quickened. Infinite could not keep up at this point. Images flashed before his eyes and were just as quickly replaced. He began to notice an object hanging in the center of his vision, faint, but growing ever stronger, ever more solid, as the visions passed.

It was a crystal.

At its heart it gleamed a deep, inky navy, fading to a blighted and sickly blue-grey at the edges. It was not his ruby, to be sure-- but still-- the energy that radiated from this crystal engulfed Infinite, awakened his hunger for power, promised with sure finality its all-consuming strength.

Infinite needed no further persuasion. He reached out with both hands and slammed the crystal into his chest.

A flood of icy heat flushed across Infinite’s body like hot water poured over frozen fingers. In an instant he felt whole again, physical and powerful. He flexed his long-lost limbs. Infinite watched with morbid curiosity as blighted blue-grey crept in crystalline flakes over his fingertips. Black vapor billowed from beneath his mask. The fiery red he once wore for the phantom ruby burned itself to ash and smoke until even his gleaming armor took on a tarnish.

The flashing images began to slow. Like a tired carousel or a roulette wheel come to the end, Infinite passed through a few more dimensions lazily-- a remote island, staffed with guards; the mansion of some rich brat-- before the slipstream set him down in a realm to call his own.

Infinite stood in a vast barren plain. He took a cautious step. Nothing happened. He kicked at the stony earth. Nothing. He moseyed forwards, spinning a little, marveling at the strange rivers of magma and the even stranger clouded sky. He could learn to be content with dominion over this place, he thought. A coat of paint here, a few slaves there--

“Welcome,” a voice greeted flatly behind him.

Infinite whirled on the intruder. His eyes fell on an all-too-familiar face.

“You--!” Infinite roared, his mouth a mess of snarling teeth, and he lunged for Shadow--

Shadow waved his hand. Infinite went flying backwards. He struck the earth, bounced, rolled into a guarded crouch-- and stopped.

This wasn’t his Shadow.

A series of eerie details slowly made themselves known. There was the sickly blue-grey striping across the quills where they ought to be red. There was the mouth, hanging flat and unused, like an afterthought on a face. There was the way the head didn’t quite hang upright but lolled, slightly; the limp and doll-like arms-- then the eyes, those lime-green and deadened eyes that affirmed beyond a doubt that although this creature wore a poor approximation of Shadow’s form, it was by no means the original.

“You may call me Mephiles,” the Being That Was Not Shadow announced. “There’s something I want you to do for me.”

Infinite rose to his feet. He dusted the dirt from his hands. Now that the initial surprise had worn off, this newcomer did not appear to pose much of a threat. “I am Infinite,” he replied. “Were this any other day I would break the soul from your body for proposing I do you a favor. But I am feeling magnanimous, and so I will inform you that I am no hero. My services come at an extraordinarily high price. Pray tell, what could you ever possibly offer me?”

“I can give you a chance at revenge.”

“You’ll have to be more specific.”

Mephiles shuffled forward. He gestured lazily with one hand. An image of Shadow-- the real one-- flickered to life. “You despise Shadow as I do, yes?”

Infinite declined to comment.

“He is happy in this world,” Mephiles said, his voice dripping with disgust. “He has found love and acceptance. Look--” the visions of Shadow swayed, changing from solitary scenes to ones of domestic life surrounded by friends. In every image Shadow looked at ease-- not entirely happy, per se, but the aggressive sharpness Infinite knew too well was gone from his eyes, replaced with a kind of peace. Infinite’s lip curled into a snarl beneath his mask.

“You think that is enough to sway me? Pathetic,” he sneered. “I didn’t escape death just to be courted by the paltry shade of my enemy.” He turned his back on Mephiles and waved him away. “Leave me. I will enact vengeance on my own terms.”

A snake of black smoke coiled around Infinite. In its wake hung Mephiles. He no longer appeared as a half-hearted copy; now his limbs clinked and clanked as growths of crystals, his eyes gazed down as vast pools of burning red. This was no ordinary mimic. Here was a long-dead god forcing the limits of its physical prison. Infinite felt a sickly sense of awe and appreciation wash over him.

“I did not make myself clear,” Mephiles said. His mouth did not move, but the rocks-- the sky, even-- echoed all the words for him. His piercing scarlet eyes fixed upon Infinite. “You are here because I willed it. I created the Phantom Obsidian you wear on your chest. The power you feel is mine. Without me you would be no more than a ghost. Do you understand?”

Infinite understood, but not in the way Mephiles intended. He knew the new crystal must draw its energy from somewhere; even the emeralds had their own otherworldly font. But never did he dream that his source was a being he could converse with-- or, to that end, potentially influence. The sight of Mephiles floating before him filled Infinite with greed. Surely, here was a being without weakness. If he could steal that power for himself, well--

“Fascinating,” he breathed.

The response shattered Mephiles’ air of grandiosity. His arms drooped. “...What?”

“Tell me: what power do you possess?”

The deity struggled to regain composure. “I control all of time and space. I am the first nightmare, the first absence of light, and so long as I survive I will be the last.”

Infinite’s wild smile grew two inches. “And would you promise an...equitable share of this power and dominion should I agree to perform your little task?”

“Everything you draw from the stone is yours.”

Infinite placed a hand over his heart, over the phantom obsidian that pulsed methodically on his chest. His voice purred through his grinning teeth, “Then I give myself to your aid, and find the utmost pleasure in doing so. What do you demand of me?”

If Mephiles was surprised by this sudden declaration, he did not show it. He gestured with one hand. The sky filled with the image of a face Infinite knew intimately: Sonic, the wretched sewer-rat hero of the rebellion. “Kill him,” Mephiles grated. “He is the one who prevents me from ravaging this world.” A whirling portal yawned wide beside him. “This will take you to him.”

Infinite gave a little snorting laugh as he stepped through. “You should have picked something harder.”

* * * * *

Author’s Note: let me know if you’re interested in seeing a second chapter! I have some ideas in place for a full-fledged Sonic 06 AU with Infinite involved, but I’m not sure if I want to go ahead with it just yet. Reader feedback is greatly appreciated!

#sonic forces #Sonic 06 #infinite the jackal #Infinite #Mephiles The Dark #mephiles #sonic the hedgehog #mara fic #sth #edit: I hope this shows up in the tags now #phantom obsidian

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moody-blues-requiem · 6 years

Note

I didn’t know I needed it before, but please continue the Diavolo infinite death story, you left it at such a tantalizing place, and I want him (and Doppio if possible) to have a happier fate.

anon I’m sorry this took so long but it’s by far the longest thing I’ve written for this blog (5 pages in google docs, 11pt font)

continuation of this, cut for length

You swore it was an accident.

Ever since you had found the arrow shard, you’d been using it as your last tangible reminder of Diavolo. He left as little physical evidence of himself as he could all throughout his life, but the arrowhead proved he had been with you. It was comforting to trace your thumb over the intricate carvings and remember the time you had spent with the Boss of Passione.

Of course, it was only so long before you slipped-- literally. Your thumb slid off a carving of a vine and over the edge, slicing your skin and drawing blood. You cursed under your breath, dropping the arrow and grabbing for a tissue to keep the blood from dripping on your clothes.

You bandaged the cut and forgot about it until the evening, when a fever started to bloom beneath your skin. Sweat pooled at your brow, your vision came and went, you couldn’t keep anything down that wasn’t water. You decided your best option was to sleep, but sleep was hard to come by. Pain wracked your body, your very bones felt as if they were burning. It was a fever unlike anything you’d felt before.

And in an instant, the fever broke, and you fell into sleep.

You awoke, groggy, but with no trace of the mysterious fever that you’d been hit with the night before. You reached for your phone, cracking your eyes open, but then you froze. Sitting on your chest was a bird.

It was a beautiful lavender color, with a long tail that curled like ribbon on a present. It had a small feather on its’ head, making it resemble a quail, and bright red eyes. Were you still sick with hallucinations? What was this?

“Hello,” you said to the bird. It tilted its’ head at you. You tried to recall everything Diavolo had told you about that arrow. Something about stands? You knew he had a stand called King Crimson, but you’d never been able to see it. “Are you my stand?”

The bird simply blinked.

“Okay,” you said, “I’m gonna go back to sleep. We’ll figure out what you are in the morning.”

Over the next few days you determined that this bird was a stand, your stand. You had taken to calling it Melodrama, and it seemed to enjoy sitting on your shoulder. Through trial, error, practice, and intuition, you learned its’ ability: it could track souls. So long as you had had physical contact with a person at some point, all you had to do think of wanting to locate them and Melodrama would flap its’ wings, creating a map in front of you out of what looked like glowing particles of dust. It would locate who you wanted to track, and show you their movements like a real-time GPS.

Of course, you tried it on Diavolo.

He was… difficult to locate. The first time you tried it the map didn’t change, leaving you disappointed, but not surprised. But that didn’t stop you, and neither did the second, third, and fourth times you came up empty-handed.

The fifth try, you nearly fell back in shock when the map began to move. It zoomed in on a golden light, Diavolo’s soul, not too far from the Colosseum. All you could do was watch, stunned that Diavolo was alive. You spent a few minutes tracking his movements around narrow streets and alleys, until the dot stopped moving and then flickered out. The map faded in front of your eyes. Melodrama chirped. The world seemed still.

After a few minutes spent processing what you had just learned, you knew what you needed to do.

Diavolo’s soul jumped between different universes, multiple ones if you had to guess. Only sometimes was he in yours. At least, that was your theory, but the fine details weren’t as important as the bulk of your plan. You watched Diavolo’s soul, It would appear somewhere near the Colosseum about once every day-- not at the same time every day, but about once a day. You worked quickly, eager to set your plan in motion: buying the soonest train ticket to Rome, a night in a cheap hotel, and packing a light overnight bag.

You found him by chance.

It was far too early for anyone to be awake, but you were, mind clouded with anxiety as you stared out the window, watching vendors set up shop for the day. The cheap provided coffee maker gurgled, filling the room with the smell of coffee grounds as the little pot started to fill. Your eyes lazily followed the dim sidewalk, and your heart froze as they caught a flash of hot pink.

The coffee was left forgotten as you ran to the street.

Diavolo knew death was waiting for him, he simply wanted a few moments of peace before it came. The morning air was cool and the city was silent, only a few stray souls passing by, none seeming to notice him. Regardless, Diavolo was paranoid, checking his back once, twice, and again for anyone waiting in the shadows to stab him. A fast movement caught his eye across the street and he flinched, ready to turn and run for it. But a single word stopped him.

“Diavolo!”

You saw the fear in his body language, and so you called out to him. You knew he would hate hearing his name called in a public space, but seeing you would outweigh his fears. The emotion in his eyes changed from fear to confusion to disbelief, and joy. He was at a loss for words, choosing to run towards you instead, meeting you in the middle of the street and pulling you into a tight embrace.

“You’re here,” he whispered tearfully, “you…. You got my gift, didn’t you? You found me…”

Tears were beginning to spill over your eyes as well. “I did! Oh, Dia, I missed--”

A loud screech, a bright light, and a car horn. Of course, fate wasn’t going to be kind to Diavolo.

As fast as he had come to hug you he pushed you away. You reached for him, managing to scratch his forearm before you were thrown to the side. The car slammed full-force into his body, sending him flying, and finally, crumpling on the dirty cobblestone street.

Ignoring the commotion around you, you ran to his side. He was bleeding, barely breathing but not conscious, and one of his arms was broken at an awkward angle. You tried not to look at his condition though, and instead checked if your plan had worked. Or at least, that you hadn’t failed.

Embedded in his arm was the arrowhead shard, his final gift to you.

In the blink of an eye the scene changed. You were in the alley where you had seen Diavolo, wrapped tightly in his arms. Nothing on him was broken; in fact, he looked stronger than ever, surrounded by a glowing magenta light. An angry-looking red figure hovered at his side, but somehow, you weren’t scared. It felt familiar.

“You…. you broke the loop,” he said, still holding you, running his hands through your hair and over your body. Reassuring himself that you were real. “You brought my King Crimson back.” He pulled back slightly to look you in the eyes, his brimming with tears. “Thank you.”

“I’m just so happy it worked,” you replied shakily. You didn’t mean to sound so unstable, but you were still in shock that your plan succeeded. “I…” your thoughts drifted, overwhelmed with your morning. “Come on,” you said, “I got a hotel room, we can have some privacy there.”

Your reunion was filled with passionate kisses and joyful tears. The two of you didn’t speak until the sun came up, your mouths were too busy locked together. Once you finally separated, you reheated the coffee, and sat together in the soft light provided by the window, and started to talk. You told him about how you had found him, from the accidental arrow prick to developing a stand and its abilities, to your idea of using the arrow on him. Diavolo used King Crimson to lovingly scratch under Melodrama’s chin, making it coo happily. “I knew, once we were reunited, that I would see you again,” he said. “And… I intended the arrowhead as a gift to you for safekeeping, whether you used it or not was not my concern. But not only for you to use it, but then to locate and save me….” he looked at the street below, where his death had been so close, and then back to you. “Truly, you are more than I deserve.” Your cheeks flushed red, and you sipped at your coffee. “I’d do anything for you Dia,” you sheepishly replied, knowing you could get away with using the nickname you had given him. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

The two of you fell silent again, simply enjoying each others’ presence. The sun grew higher in the sky and the streets crowded with workers, commuters, and tourists. Diavolo had a far away look in his eye.

“What’s on your mind?” you asked, sipping at your now-cold coffee. His line of sight didn’t change, but he spoke. “Selfish thoughts. I should be grateful for everything, my life and your presence by my side, but…”

He looked down, unable to finish. You finished for him. “Doppio?”

“Doppio.”

“Would you like me to… you know….” Melodrama appeared on your shoulder as if blown in on a quick breeze. He stared at you, but then returned his gaze to the ground. “I don’t know which I fear more, finding out he’s gone or letting it remain unknown.”

Something within you steeled itself. You were also worried about the fate of Diavolo’s cheerier companion, but you wouldn’t be able to live with yourself if you never checked. Diavolo simply looked away. Melodrama summoned the map before you, and it began to move. Your heart raced as it zoomed, moving across the globe until the glowing yellow dot landed on a spot just a couple feet to your side. Exactly where Diavolo was.

“Diavolo,” you said, a tone of urgency in your voice. He looked up, intrigued. But before he could investigate your stand, you dismissed the map. “I’m going to leave the room. I’ll be back.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Call Doppio. He…. just call him. I’ll be back in a minute.”

Your heart was racing as you left the room. This was something Diavolo had to do on his own, at least for now. As much as the two of you loved each other, he and Doppio would always be closer, like twins. Two sides of the same coin.

You waited in the hallway for a while, pacing up and down, letting Diavolo reunite with his most loyal companion. You knew it had worked, if Doppio didn’t pick up then Diavolo would be out in the hall with you. It had to have worked, your stand wouldn’t be wrong. Would it?

Finally after waiting what seemed like an appropriate yet agonizingly long amount of time, you knocked. The reply was a quiet “come in”.

Sitting on the bed, looking ecstatic to see you, was Vinegar Doppio. He looked like a puppy who had just been reunited with its’ owner. “Y/n!” he exclaimed, running to hug you. “You…. I…. I don’t know what happened! I was… everything was dark for a while, I was so lost, but then the Boss called and now you’re here and-- I just can’t believe it! I thought I’d never see you again! I--”

His excited stammering was cut off with a sudden “durururu!” You couldn’t help but smile as memories of time spent with Doppio came flooding back to you. He didn’t have the romantic relationship with you that the Boss did, but he was one of your closest friends. He reached for Diavolo’s (now empty) coffee cup, and held it to his ear. “Pronto? Boss! Hello again!” he paused, listening. “Oh? Sure thing, here you go!”

Doppio handed the ceramic mug to you. “It’s the Boss, I guess he knew you were here with me!” You gladly accepted the mug, and nearly jumped out of your skin when you actually heard Diavolo’s voice in your ear; slightly distant, just as if it were coming through a phone.

“Thank you, y/n. For Doppio and I both, thank you so much.”

#diavolo #vinegar doppio #vento aureo #vento aureo spoilers #jjba #va #anon

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comeondowntosouthparkrpg-blog · 5 years

Text

Finn “Firkle” Sinn

out of character info

Name/Alias: Alison Pronouns: she/they Age: 21 Join Our Discord: c; Timezone: est Activity: 6.9/10 Triggers: n/a Password: jimmy can fastpass my ass Character that you’re applying for: Firkle Favourite ships for your character: uhh Fike or Firkmore. Whichever bugs Kyle most.

in character info

Full name: Finn Nyarlathotep “Firkle” Sinn (I hate his canon name, I’m sorry.) Birthday: October 25th, (Scorpio) Sexuality, gender, pronouns: Death (Bisexual), Goth (cis man), “Don’t fucking talk about me” (he/him). Age and grade: Freshman, 14

Appearance:

Standing at the height of 5’7, but subtracting three inches the moment his boots come off. Firkle always wears two expressions, one of constant disdain, or a vacant one. Despite the eerie faces he likes to make, he has a rather pretty face. Heart shaped, large almond eyes, the color the storm clouds before the rain begins to fall, a small, slight turned up nose, a smattering of freckles on his cheekbones and the bridge of his nose. More often than not, he straightens his naturally wavy black hair, his fringe hangs down, on his right side, past his chin, and the sides are shaved with an abstract design of geometric shapes.

He has piercings, including: a septum ring, a bar through his left eyebrow, numerous cartilage piercings, a bar through his tongue, and his collar bones. He has a total of 7 tattoos, a skull with horns and the word 'death’ over its forehead on his right upper arm; he got it when he was 13 and properly initiated into the cult. An Omega (Ω) on the outer side of his left wrist, “some ghosts are so quiet, you would hardly know they're there” in a small handwriting font on his left thigh above a small ghost line art. He has an octopus the size of a CD on his left upper arm, it holds little knives in each hand. He has a boo from Mario over his left forearm, accompanied by the three life hearts from Legend of Zelda, and the Space Invaders alien.

His body type is thin, though he does have lean muscle from several years of fencing. His fingers have numerous scars on his fingers from years of playing with knives. Pale scars, a very slight contrast from his already corpse-like skin tone. His makeup is usually just dark eyeliner and black lipstick, very rarely does he use any cover-up or contour. In contrast to his minimal effort in his appearance, he has a very decorated taste in clothing. Plain black skinny jeans, plain dark grey t-shirt, wallet with chains hanging from his hip, boots with studs and buckles, and his jackets, always black, commonly leather, have studs, patches, and/or patches.

Personality:

Firkle is a true nihilist, he believes that nothing really matters, and he’d defend that philosophy until the day he died. Though he lacks empathy and is an undiagnosed sociopath, having said that, when he finds someone he wants to nurture and cherish, he does so. He would murder for them, and take care of them through thick and thin. It's incredibly rare that this occurs, and he isn't fond of the majority of the people he talks to. He has a short patience for people he doesn't like, he's snappy and will start roasting people in hopes they will leave him alone. He often comes off as cold and reclusive, but it's actually because he hates talking to people, it makes him emotionally tired; though good at carrying conversation and it's the entirely of his school career, it makes him want to curl up into the fetal position and sleep for a week. Having control over his emotions is something he's mastered over the years and it's rare that he would snap at anyone outside of being tired. Anger, sadness, and even happiness are controlled.

Behavior wise, Firkle is cunning, often lying to cover for himself, and generally selfish. Admitting when he's wrong is something he despises doing, and he will get violent over small, insignificant disputes. Instead of getting mad or arguing, he's more likely to slap someone than to shout at them. (But if they do shout at him, he can get incredibly loud, and he does not take anyone's shit.) He's not selfish in the “all for me, none for you" sense, but he will let someone become a scapegoat as long as it keeps him looking like the Eldritch Golden Boy his cult sees him as.

When he hits his most stressful moments, he grows numb and acts robotic, because the only rational, sanity retaining, thought he can think is that none of this actually matters, and his pure form, the sadistic apathetic asshole he is deep down comes out.

History:

Firkle was born to a single mother, Maeve Sinn, due to the absence of his father after his conception, his mother gave him the name she felt was most appropriate for him, including her own last name. Finn is a traditional Irish name, Nyarlathotep is the name of an Elder God, and Sinn has been the last name in his family for ages. His name rhymes, but he's not fond of being called by his first name. When he was born, his mother was finishing her doctorate to start working full time as an alternative medical doctor. Commonly referred to as the local witch doctor, more accurate name than the population knows.

Firkle was raised by a goth and more or less by the cult his mother belonged to. Spending his earliest years, being laid down to nap on the pews of the abandoned church. By the time he was old enough to start school, the sadist fit in well with the resident goth clique. It took a long time for him to even like them, he betrayed them at gunpoint at one point, and it wasn't until they forgave him unconditionally, that he came to realize that he had friends. Not really his own age, as they were all four and five years older than him, but much closer in age than the group he was raised by.

Spending the next 6 years being numbed to be the most apathetic asshole he could be, in the one place on the planet where everyone was a bit on the psychotic side. Must be something in the water. 12, and in the 6th grade, he spent the second semester of school in the South Park public school system, creating a reputation of defiance early. For his 13th birthday, the following semester, he was properly initiated into the cult, no more sitting on metal chairs, or on the pews, he got to attend the rituals, not just the sermons. Throughout the next year, he became a very active member of the group, attending every sermon and ritual he could, even if it meant skipping out on things normal kids got up to. Homecoming? He was harvesting blood from a sacrifice. Despite how much time he spends at these meetings, they never became common knowledge. He just called it “therapy”, and never went into any details.

Sample paragraph:

McDonald’s espresso, it seemed like a good idea when he bought it, but as Firkle sat at his booth alone, he came to realize how terrible it was. The taste was bitter and scalding, the way he liked it, but that wasn’t the issue. A gremlin released upon the world was, and it made the young goth livid.

Some punk ass eight year old came running down the aisle between booths, banging his fist down on each one, for no obvious reason. Naturally this caused the craved caffeine to tip over, soaking into a filled page of poetry, rather than into the goth’s blood stream. A great Shakespearean Tragedy. The pools of ashen misery he called his eyes just watched the liquid soaking into his pristine white page for an absurdly long moment, frozen by the thought he just spent three dollars to ruin a twenty dollar bullet journal.

Letting out a long overdue huff, he starts to sop up the remaining fluid. All of the pretty poetry pictures he had hoped to obtain were lost to time now, dumping the hardly used notebook in the trash with the napkins, he heads off towards the nearest location with any hardcover journals available. Doubtful any would ever be waterproof, the goth was still resolved. His mind void of any emotional attachment to the event further than the major inconvenience it happened to be. He had to draft the artwork his writing was before he could ever dream of posting it for his whole school to see, and now he was going to write a new poem. One called McDonald’s Espresso.

Headcanons:

-He plays violin. -He has a total of 0 expressions when anything happens, he just keeps this blank look on his face like he’s some sort of robot.

Anything else: I love you gays.

#Firkle #accepted #Admin Samantha #submission

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marcosoropoet · 6 years

Text

Lemon Cake ~

1. The way it works is I want a cup of hot black tea... not falling slowly, in reverse augmented reality money banquet begging rose vortex prizes in this cataclysmic rose-gold trick u look like a new weirder snapchat filter, wasn't it some high-up guy that stopped everything ((( the other day ))) to fix a cheeseburger emoji? legit muted chatter on the other moon @green geo-political stupor attracting pivoting magnetized crosshairs freezing blood cold, sangfroid, stalking the horror victim relentlessly — and I'm stuck in a trapezoid alone inside this very weird dream, and I don't want you to look at me... but at, this, in its place. "it's safe, you can show yourself now" —... is it me? that I can't see? a crackingly crazy dog with the animal terror look in (((the eyes))) bites down on cumulus cirrus myth, rains blood down configuring liquid glass fireball hush in place of a goofy smile myth you think you knew me you think you have a print-out of the dna blueprint... 2. Glock Terror Noir: "I beeped to you twice loud, right? That means I'm here, right? FUCK YOU YOU SHOULD BE OUTSIDE ALREADY! You stupid fuck!!!" "You got the gun?" It wasn't a lucid dream yet very vivid, hyper real. Everything cut out with sharp edges of colour. Everything cut out with a crimson jewel tone refraction of myriad bursting colours. 3. A thousand rabbit coins for one violet kiss. Goes to my head. Flipping through a magazine, seeing my name in black velvet lights. buzzkiller butcher spin. I took too many lashes. Clouds of dice, sky of black velvet. Humans made of pliable molecules, in upward sky and forward time prettiness trying to understand everything like always.stop. You can spot civilizations on any street. Cymbals erupt in metallic sonic splash. The fragrant steam of food. Hot sun in tearing eyes. We are navigated by the sun. Solar matrix. Solar head-trip. Solar juvenile expectations. 4. a crackingly crazy dog with the animal terror look in the eyes (((the eyes))) bites down on cumulus cirrus, rains blood down configuring liquid glass fireball hush of silent fire roar in place of a goofy smile you think you know me you think you have a print-out of the world ending in the cataclysmic baking of white light. Baking soda, YouTube. Everyone kept talking with no questions.questions simply wiped with a bright nano-sizzle. Lovely Laundry can do bright nano-sizzle for you no extra cost lovely laundromat is re-processing tape loop for you with no language so blank 5. I have cast iron bells and indigenous whistles. Cracks, fissures, broken bones cannot compare with a broken brain. The pop-open scenario of a greeting card is my 3-D gig. Yours you'll have to find.My dogfoot bathtub fills with ocean water, and reflects a useless boring world. Second-hand smoke and cracked mirrors. personality buzzes? A sucker punch kills the show. When we were just about to land on Jupiter, as injured caricatures of a newer generation. As mind-boggling freaks under my direction and fresh algorithm. artificial but our intellects welcome you to warm lovely laundry* As gallons of tutti-frutti body-wash explode from the tv screen. As silent, screened double agent doppelgangers clockwork entering the zero dome court, are announced in digital voice. As rocknroll would cool my warm forehead. As the black clouds came down a blanket. I am a liar and kept saying that they were violet. A street connection finally made, each party sauntered away in rain coming down hard. I stayed incognito, a complete unknown, some don't know jack about the public eye. But honeychild I'm on my own, on my best behavioral electrode. I don't talk so loud because nobody cares, and soft yellow applause is a small yellow bird, which gives me clunky goosebumps. anonymous content. white eyes, red sun. Can we cut a deal? I look upon the wavering reflection of my face in the pool of crushed light and abandoned darkness There I see myself so close to the eye it causes hallucinatory thought-speech. Knocking! ... I bought a big bouncing ball and soft yellow applause is a small yellow applause is a small yellow bird, White eyes, red sun. Can we cut a deal? I look upon the packed bowl of five alarm chili with a broken brain. The pop-open scenario of a greeting card is my 3-D gig. Yours I'll have five stores to find. My dogfoot bathtub fills with ocean water, and reflects dumpster cracked crackling gardenia candles... Mad thought-speech. Knocking. I'm bringing you a lemon cake, since I found out that you had just moved in the streets slant and distort because nobody cares, and some bubblegum welts. I bought a big bouncing ball and some shit for you when you was under the radar so don't fuck with me, next morning the liquid police rolled you away, I safekept your belt in the backpack with the interstellar interstate fused wet grey clouds dripping inky newsprint. Standing frozen, still, waiting for the newsprint and a cracked mirror. personality carries the buzz? You are naked in digital voice. As rocknroll would cool my warm forehead. As the black clouds came down a blanket. I am a liar and kept saying that they were green-gold. But they wasn't. A street dogs stands up.Gas station coffee, hazelnuts, driving through the tricky narrow brick-lined cobblestone alleys ))) kill the show. When we were just about to land on Jupiter, as injured caricatures of a newer generation. As mind-boggling freakshow, I stop the world to continue my friendship with ((( myself ))). You'll run for ointment, and take the bloody curtain with myself. I have no sense of time but have overgrown myself. I have cast iron bells, indigenous whistles, and fresh green pinwheels for y'all. Cracks; I stop the world ended in the street. Cymbals erupt in metallic sonic splash. The fragrant steam of food. Hot sun in tearing eyes. for a long time now. I ((( uh ))) actualize myself in the center of nowhere how is that? around the rusty tectonics of the picture in vivid blades of green country grass under brown cattle sinew, focus bright beam polished pyrite black shale mile Running on auto pilot projection of artificial gelatin intelligence resists rendering mass malfunction tremor gaping swallows. vacuum. blackhole. microcosm. more rapid imagery. helicopter. red propeller swings hard very quietly not making too much noise. too much scratch selfhelpbook many please tonight no. Not ever! Never in a million years. Cigar touting clowns, in formal barbed wire attire, and fiberglass Bow-Ties. Entire walls and windows covered in aluminum foil glaring eye of metallic skin; a searing spotlight blasting white rays of simple pure technology, propeller swings hard, hums loudly, large white-hot light hit /up! yes, fake-out in The Lovely Laundromat. very quietly not making too much scratch selfhelpbook many please tonight. solo bassiest sitar floated out from the quantum illusion, so I will display all of my pieces in the q u a n t u m i l l u s i o n of filmic boundary universe knife-edge time, timelessness evolves into the wind — I went to the portion where sparkling dust motes, in bright beams of day: no no I've ate already officer — ...these comments/moments.repeating fruity dripping reds ...would you like the egg soft boiled sir? The spy motions with his long 24K pinky nail. Bad mother persona places bitch's sister's sheltered elite urban mutation basement sector composite. Do not find me there please yesyes 451...451...451..., the siren shuffled its screeching fast — I went to the show instead of the money-crave zombie industry brand week, with its truly myriad iterations, a million jealous flashbulb moneyshots screeching fast. dry-ice frozen three dimensional pop clusterfuck strobes pulsating on grinding grin trashcan collage alley moneyshots of dry-ice frozen three dimensional strobes pulsating on grinding grin trashcan collage alley moneyshot font/color graffiti to boot grind down to grey ash, silt slides off of the sociopathic shelter, don't gimme no free-as-the-air mama depersonalization, baby forge a very practiced, precise, dark sycophant; thus having left many with a deep amazement, and an addiction to their smooth hiding inside whole icing not defaced, baby. A public building in the sea-tang background of a hallucinatory black shadow puppet eyelash one-off vortex, Radio:...day and night I sit at home and I cry, (1234), wonderin' maybe if this is too telling of the money-craving for some peripheral excitement. Choppers swoop down low with a searing spotlight blasting white rays of simple pure technology, propeller hard-flung repetitive sound, blue siren screech around the zombie We are controlling you away, I safekept your belongings in the street. Cymbals erupt in metallic sonic splash. The fragrant steam of food. Hot sun in tearing eyes. Inside, the gold mine candles, Prehensile party sauntered away into the goldmine's sweet cool air As gallons of tutti-frutti body-wash explode from the tv screen. As silent, screen.piano.blue smoke rising in the projector's beam.cyclops. As silent, screened double agent doppelgangers entering the liquid police rolled and navigated by the sun when you walk very gently you will see and define the desire to rise above grey rocks and sedimentary boulders, to hit and get cracked gardenia candle-flash hit of reminding flesh, the delicacy and myth. But if you storm through me, and stampede, you will be messing with me and lovely laundry takes great pleasure in you our lovely wet customer. I'll fall far to the other side of the room, and the screened double agent doppelgangers were entering volcano freeze-hold. perfume zoom flipping through cymbals erupt in metallic sonic splash of street festival band playing in fragrant steam of food. Hot sun in sparkling eyes. My dogfoot bathtub fills with ocean water, and reflects a useless boring world. Second-hand smoke and cracked mirrors. gallons of tutti-frutti body-wash explode from the tv screen. As silent, screened double agent doppelgangers entering the zero dome court, are announced in digital voice. I don't talk so loud because nobody cares, and soft yellow applause is a very small yellow bird, which gives me clunky goosebumps. anonymous content. white eyes, red sun.youtube.time jumps and dilates... Can we cut a deal? I look upon the wavering reflection of my face in the pool of crushed light and abandoned darkness. I'll cry stone tree myth, for every glittering blackeye unguent. There I see myself so close to the eye it causes hallucinatory thought-speech. Knocking. Why hello there"!" fake af, I'm bringing you a lemon cake, since I found out that you had just moved in today. Uh-huh, yeah (turns around and points) right there across the street, uh-huh, r i g h t t h e r e.

#lemon cake #marcos oro #abstract poetry #surreal collage poetry

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stupid-stupors · 4 years

Text

messy mall

was playing mercy in overwatch but i was wearing a light purple bikini and was impossible to catch. was playing in 4000 SR range and won a game at blizzard world, and the enemy team winston typed in chat “mercy, bap you guys are both insane, cannot kill you for some reason” and i was doing sooo well. the bap changed to zen and we won the game.

after we won, me and my team got funneled down this water slide and then the pressure of the water at the bottom took my bikini top right off. i was trying to cover myself when one of the guys from my team shouted for cosmo, i was like ??? is that who i think it is? then cosmo came over and it WAS bufang, the two of us just stared at each other like wtf and then i got out of the pool and hugged him and he tried to fix my bikini top but suggested we go elsewhere to talk. we went into the building and went up the stairs into this mini rectangular library room where he fixed it but then told me that he couldn’t be seen with me anymore bc he has a girlfriend, and i was like oh that’s ok bc i have a boyfriend! and then it was all good but i felt like my other teammates were thinking we would be having sex together right now bc of what i was wearing. bufang thought that was funny and laughed. we walked out of the building and into this mall.

(kind of not sure if these two dreams are connected or just related)

so i was was in a mall bc it was my day off and i was by myself but then noticed a lot of commotion. there was a lot of blood on the floor and also this strange beige fur covering the floor that these three alligators were eating. this nice old lady was watching the alligators eat them and i asked her what they were doing. she said that there was a huge accident with this weird creature that the authorities were looking more into. and that the alligators were tasked with eating that animal’s fur. and this fur covered the whole ground... i was like just this one animal? had this much fur? and she was like yeah. i asked what happened and she said she didn’t really know herself, and everyone who witnessed it was too in shock to talk. but basically this huge thing just came in and ripped somebody’s body in half during class and the teacher tried to save her but the teacher ended up getting ripped in half as well and then was crying until her last breath. then the creature left the classroom and went into the rest of the mall and just ripped up like 2 or 3 more people until the authorities came and trapped it somehow. and the animal was really strange, like it looked like there was a smaller monkey in a bigger monkey. i didn’t really understand that part. then i asked where the creature was now and she said i’d have to look around. this other girl came in and said she also wanted to see the creature with her own eyes and that she would look with me so we briefly became friends.

we met this old man who said he was going to take over the creature watching room and we asked if we could have special visitors privileges bc we were soooo curious what it looked like. it took a lot of convincing but then in the end he said yes. we went into this beige vaulted door and someone else was manning the visitors room but saw this old man and immediately got up to let him sit down and assume position. this snooty lady with a large hat and a sad face came up behind us. we were asked to fill out a visitors form on a red clipboard. the other girl filled it out first, then the snooty lady (who went thru like 4 different pens bc they all just stopped working when she picked them up) until a green pen worked, and then me. me and the girl got to go to the creature watch room first though.

the watch room was this cramped space kind of like a submarine-ish style and just had these two small windows that we had to sit down on the floor to look through. and this creature was absolutely gigantic that it looked fake. it had two bodies, horizontal on each other, 10 arms, and was just losing fur like no tomorrow. but the weirdest part was its face. its face didn’t really look real, like it looked like there was a smaller monkey moving around freely in there and controlling the larger freak body. it looked at us through the visiting window and then got really curious and put its face right up to us. we freaked out and left. the snooty lady was crying and we thought that maybe one of her children was ripped in half by the creature so she wanted to see it.

i was walking in the mall with the girl when she said that our teacher wanted to talk to me (so i probably knew her from some class?). we went to go talk to our teacher and he said bc of what happened in the mall, he wanted to brighten things up and asked us to do a really last minute poem project that should take no longer than 6 minutes for us to read and that we were assigned a partner to do it with, my partner was michael. late at night, he messaged me and asked if i could print out these lines that he put together and a sheep picture and paste it on a green and purple sheet of construction paper. i printed out the lines with comic sans font and got a picture of a woman tending a sheep that looked like a kid could color it in. then i turned it in to the teacher who said she was going to put it up on the bulletin board. a few hours later i get an email from the teacher asking if it can be showcased, and i was like ya sure. but then i get pinged by michael who said that the zenyatta on my team had actually written those lines and didnt give us permission for his words to be showcased. and i was like wtf i thought you wrote them and he was like no but now i feel bad that i asked him so late at night to write those lines and for you, even later at night, to put them together. i was like lol it’s fine but it’s gonna get showcased.

— another dream??

i felt kind of terrible while working from home and decided to walk to cvs to get my headache checked out. i walked past ps 203 and past key food (which was on that path...??) to get to the cvs on bell boulevard. i went into the cvs and looked around for a little until i got to the counter and used a coupon i had for a free check up/consultation. these two ladies at the desk had these cone things with medicine on them but the medicine could tell them exactly what was wrong with me. i put some medicine on the bottom of my nose to breathe it in and they said i just had a common cold. one of the ladies (sitting on the left) told me that she didn’t even know there was a coupon for these things but feels bad bc i wasted it on a common cold, and i was like it’s fine idc. so i leave CVS and somehow forgot that i was WFH so i was trying to find the nearest azalea(?) office which was like a restaurant. and i walked to the left but couldn’t find it and thought it was odd. it was raining outside and getting really difficult to walk. i turned 180 and walked back uphill to the cvs and then kept walking to find this azalea office. i looked to the left at one point and there was a sheep with beige fur and a black face standing sadly in the rain outside of the pink baskin robbins store. i kept walking and could not find my office. and THEN i remembered that i was working from home but couldn’t remember how to get home.

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terassaras · 7 years

Text

Year of the Lion: Zero

A Sangatsu no Lion/March Comes in Like a Lion fic.

Rei contemplates nothingness.

Read below or on AO3. DO NOT repost on any other platforms.

Chapter Warnings: deep introspection, much sadness & loneliness, mild dissociation & depression symptoms, a bit of philosophy thrown in.

Rei?

What a weird name!

But it suits you. No home, no family, no school, no friends.

When I open my eyes, the sunlight is dancing across the ceiling in golden glimmers, reflected by the river flowing under a ribbon of robin egg skies. It’s the only time when the room would fill with warmth and shapes and colors. It’s like being inside a kaleidoscope.

Otherwise, the room is empty. No curtains, no bed, no desk, no sofa. Not even a bottle of cooking oil or a jar of salt on the counters. It doesn’t look like a home.

Maybe it’s because I don’t have one.

There isn’t anywhere in this world where you belong, is there?

Kyoko’s words pierce through my mind like midday thunder—a crack without a warning, a burn across my finger. The curse of a shogi player is a good memory. I can remember every syllable in her words as much as the acid on her tongue. They return every so often, merciless and clear, and each time I would think the same.

It’s all just as she said.

The only odd thing is that I’m not bothered by it.

Rationally speaking, there is no use in agonizing over the truth. It’s as if she had torn my shirt open and seen through my chest, a wicked smile breaking across her beautiful features, delighted at what she’d found. I had no defense—not against her words or—

Not against her.

Kiriyama Rei. That is my name. Class C, Group 1, fifth dan. Age seventeen. Occupation: professional shogi player. Other than that—

You are a zero.

Kiriyama Rei. Age seventeen. First year of high school. Professional shogi player 5-dan. That is all.

As for what I have, well, I have this shogi board that Father gave. It is my most precious possession. Other than that, my apartment is empty. Empty—but with a mesmerizing view of the river.

I like watching the river. It is a wide, blue river that stretches and curves around the city, undisturbed by the motions of people or time, breathing constantly in quiet, peaceful waves.

But lately I felt lost even when I watch the water slowly rise and fall.

Rise, fall.

Rise.

Fall.

Do you know that sensation when you jump from a high place into a pool? Those few seconds before you crash, when you have neither the earth nor your legs to support you, and you suddenly become painfully aware of your own weight?

And you think, “Have I always been this heavy?”

Gravity is pulling you into its core and there’s nothing you can do.

You know you’re going to hit the water. The surface tension explodes and the water suddenly becomes angry slaps running on your skin.

Suddenly you’re inside a different atmosphere. The angry sounds disappear, swallowed by the giant mass of dark water. Light flickers. The water over you won’t let the brightness in. And you are still going down, pulled by your own weight, which you thought was your own.

Your heart makes up for the lack of sound. It is beating wildly between your eardrums as it senses your panic. The adrenaline kicks in, heating your limbs down to your fingers, screaming at you to

Swim! Fight!

Forget everything else!

Breathe!

Do you know that sensation of falling?

That is how I fear I’ll fall

Losing

Sinking

Deeper

As the days pass by

….

……….

……………….

Breathe!

The first gasp of air feels like a cold cut across my lungs. Even when the air stings, even if it burns my throat, even if my limbs feel like lead, I surface and breathe. I must.

So I swim.

And swim.

And somewhere in the darkness of the ocean I’m swimming, under this sky that has only known storm and lightning, I frantically search for a place, a thing.

That’s right. If I can just get there, somewhere, some place where I won’t feel like falling once I stop moving. If I can get there everything will be—

Once I get there, I can stop moving, and there will be nothing. Maybe finally I can stop—stop this endless struggling, falling, thinking, feeling, suffocating, being—

Looking at the shadows of shogi pieces in the vanishing daylight, pieces I haven’t moved since the blurry hours of the morning, I can’t tell if I’m still swimming or if I’ve stopped moving at all.

Rei.

Zero.

A nothing.

Aside from shogi, I don’t have much and I have nothing to offer anybody. The memories of my family are hazy and I don’t remember them much. I might—I might’ve left them that way. And the family that took me in—I left them too, because I could see too clearly what my selfish hands had done to them. And now—

No home, no relatives, no school, no friends.

Well…

I think…

If having nothing means I’m not taking anything from anyone,

If feeling nothing means I’m not hurting anyone,

And if days when nothing happens mean I’m not hurting,

Then maybe it’s better that way.

Maybe I can accept being like this.

…

………

But then—what is this feeling that I’m not—that it’s not okay? That somehow...something’s…

Emptiness.

I might have read the word somewhere, maybe in a middle school literature class, like in a poem or an essay. I didn’t think about it much back then. Maybe it was the day after a match. I was probably worn out, my mind wandering in a too-light feeling.

So I decided to go to the bookstore. I walked into the section bearing guides and tactic books for shogi out of habit. I passed by the magazine section just to glance at the shogi magazines though there’s no reason for me to pick one up. It’s not like reading shogi player interviews can help me win matches.

Then I found the dictionary aisle and looked up. Large books stood in neat rows, their spines almost as wide as my hand, their covers muted and fonts practical. Heavy and silent, the dictionaries seem almost proud, as if each of them held the entire weight of the world’s knowledge.

I shuddered. I suddenly felt so small—overwhelmed by the number of books, the immensity of their wisdom. If I knew nothing, then these pages must list everything. It suddenly seemed impossible to choose just one title. So many books, so many decisions I could make, and I couldn’t figure out what the right move was.

I couldn’t see a winning strategy.

I took a deep breath. I had to calm down. Even in shogi you have to make the first move—and even if it seems like a monumental decision, what follows is more important.

I took another deep breath. Eventually, I picked up a dictionary titled The Great Passage. The title sounded interesting for some reason. I flipped through the pages and found the word:

空【クウ】 (Kuu)

Definitions:

(1) Empty air, sky.

(2) Fruitlessness, meaninglessness

(3) Void

(4) Shunya: emptiness, nothingness; the lack of an immutable intrinsic nature within any phenomenon. Also: dependent creation. Buddhist term.

Emptiness.

Can emptiness mean something?

I looked around for the nearest window. All above me was the monotony of rectangular ceilings and fluorescent illuminations. I got up and for some reason started half-running, half-walking towards the exit—and as I stumbled onto the empty sidewalk, I looked up.

Beyond the static skyscrapers were bright winter skies and not a single cloud.

Nothing in sight.

No, not nothing. I read about this. The atmosphere is made of gas particles that scatter the light at certain wavelengths perceived by the human eye as colors. And then beyond that is the milky way, the outer space, the entire universe, which continuously expands and which vastness is beyond reach and comprehension—

An endless depth. A void.

Huh. But you can’t really see anything up there from here, standing here on solid, concrete earth.

I went back to the bookstore and picked up the dictionary I had left. My head was running around in a hurricane of thoughts. I stared at the word for minutes, reading the definitions enough times for them to burn into my mind. One meaning had caught me.

It was shunya.

I shelved the dictionary back and went to a section I had never been, searching hastily for one kind of book. It was an unplanned decision. It was a book on shunya—on emptiness. It felt odd to buy something other than shogi books or textbooks—but I just felt like I had to. Maybe I was hoping it would help me understand a small part of this world—a small part of myself.

On my walk back to Rokugatsu Town, pressing the solidness of the book’s spine against my beating heart, I kept craning my neck up to the sky till it ached.

Obsessed with emptiness, I tore through the pages of the book like a hungry beast. I was a lion on a huntI was on a silent journey, scanning my surroundings, sometimes running till my chest hurt and sometimes prowling, studying things from a great distance, trying to find things I could claw my desperate mind to. Any formula, any theory, any word that would quell this hunger. I skimmed through the introduction and jumped right to one part.

Shunyata

A Sanskrit word, shunya means “zero,” “nothing,” “empty” or “void.” The root of the word is svi, “hollow,” and the noun form is shunyata, hence, “nothingness.” The Great Buddha describes it as void, the absence of rising and falling, cessation, and calmness. Dew drops, floating bubbles, flash of lightning, reflections in the mirror—these are all said to illustrate shunyata. However, it holds different meanings in different streams of Buddhism.

Although it may seem contrary, shunyata does not suggest some kind of “great void,” as if it were some dimension where nothing can be found. Rather, all existence and all nature are based in shunyata.

In Mahayana, shunyata is the belief that “all things are empty of intrinsic existence and nature,” or pratitya prasamutpada. That is, all things dependently originated. Everything we know is just an impermanent concept, they seem to appear and then disappear, when actually it is not so. They are things we thought to have name and a separate existence, when truly there is no real nature, essence, or substance in anything. No “things” or “conditions” appear on their own. Everything is interdependent and exists relatively.

However, that does not mean one’s experience is not real or that one does not exist. It is just that we choose to name and make concepts or boxes out of experiences or objects when they, in fact, are inseparable from everything else and will continue to change. We call a bicycle a “bicycle” but once the parts are taken out, do we still call them a bicycle? There is no one essence or substance that makes up a “bicycle” or stands for what “bicycle” is. Nothing stays as they are forever.

We tend to think of the “self” as “the self” and therefore cling to all emotions, thoughts, and experiences as though they were the most meaningful things. By doing this one would be filled with greed, craving, and suffering as one would be filled with ego. However, when one manifests shunyata or emptiness, one is freed from attachments, and one becomes egoless, or anatta, the non-self. The self is not attached to things and no thing is attached to its meaning as perceived by self. This is the only way to understand the reality of life. Perceived self is impermanent, perceived material is impermanent, and perceived existence is impermanent. Emptiness is the nature of all existence.

Huh. Wait—hold on.

So emptiness is saying that…everything means nothing? It’s just all names and imagination? But then—

Oh, okay, nothing stays as they are forever—so in that sense, maybe things change and so will I. Things will change. I got that…I think.

Okay, so emptiness is not some great void, rather…all existence is…empty?

Wait—what?

Does that mean who am I or what I’m thinking or whatever I’m doing—it all means nothing?

That can’t—I mean—if that’s so, then what have I been doing all this time? What have I been agonizing over all this time!? It can’t all be nothing!

Oh—hold on, it says if we cling to our emotions, thoughts, and experiences as the most meaningful thing, we become filled with greed and craving and suffering…

Huh?

What?

Well I’m—I am suffering! What’s wrong with that? And I don’t even know why!

And what is this part!? It says you must become egoless? The not-self? What the hell is that? If I don’t have self, if I’m really empty, if I really don’t care about what happens or what I do or what I think or feel…

…

…..

I guess the world I’m trying to understand is too different. The words were there but it was as if I was watching everything while hanging upside down. Even though—

Even though the book was called A Monkey’s Guide to Buddhism: Even Monkeys Can Understand!

….

…….

I just don’t get it.

Yeah. I really don’t get it—this emptiness thing.

Okay, I have been thinking about this. How can I agonize so much if I say that I have nothing?

I’ve been trying to read that book. Maybe it’s that dependent creation again. It’s that…maybe who I am now…is because of everything that has happened. That includes every person I’ve met. Don’t they say that people leave an impression on you and that they never really leave you? So in a sense you are never alone.

That means….all the people I’ve faced on the shogi board are part of me. The hundreds, hundreds of people that I won and lost against, in front of that small board.

That also means…Father.

Maybe even Kyouko.

Mom. Dad. Chihiro.

But if that meant I wasn’t alone—it’s still strange. It doesn’t make a difference. It’s not like I can see or touch or talk to them.

The Buddhism book says that you go into this cycle—this samsara--that’s inescapable unless you reach nirvana. Everything just repeats itself over again. And as part of the cycle you can never escape this…grief, this dukka. That’s a part of life.

………

That’s sad, I think. That you can never escape this grief.

But do other people carry this grief too? This grief that just exists because you exist?

…

…I don’t know.

I really don’t know. Is that something you can ask other people?

No, no, no, no—just the thought of speaking to strangers is—and I mean with that kind of topic—there is no way, is there?

But if there were somebody I can ask…

Right—come o think of it, if other people are part of me…that means I would be part of others too.

Huh?

Wait, would I? Have I ever been that kind of person to someone? To anyone?

It was childish and embarrassing, I guess, but I hid that book. I didn’t have many places to hide things in the apartment so I shoved it in a box of off-season clothes and old textbooks.

I didn’t want to see it again. Even the thought of confronting the title, lifting the pages weighed by so much wisdom, the black ink spilling blunt truths onto my hands—

It scares me.

Rather than ponder about all this…emptiness and life cycle and karma and attainment…things I can’t make heads or tails of…

I just want to think about things I can solve.

Yes, like shogi matches. That I can work with. If I just focus on game notations and think about tactics and practice and practice, I can just make out a path.

Yeah. I don’t need to worry about anything else.

Yeah.

Back here again.

The pawns are raring. The knights, bishops, and lances are staring. The generals and the rooks are waiting. The board is standing there, expecting.

And I’m the only one who couldn’t make a move.

Though it’s almost the beginning of the new year, nothing has changed and nothing feels different.

I thought I’ve been swimming frantically all this time. But the truth is I’m slower than time. Most days it’s a struggle to pull myself out of bed and make the heavy thoughts go away.

But I mean—there’s no way I wouldn’t think or worry about things is there? About what I should do, about what I wished I didn’t do, about—

I guess that’s what happens when you have too much time by yourself.

Thinking and worrying so much with no one to talk to, my head just keeps going in circles. The circles keep growing bigger and looser and wilder, like a child drawing with a black crayon, painting pictures not even he can understand.

There, sitting with arms wrapped around knees that throbbed from sitting too long, I’m floating in a giant starless darkness—and though my stomach pleaded and cried to me for food, I stay there, knees glued to my chest, listening to the endless drone of the heater that does nothing to the numbing winter night.

I wake to the ache on my back. The blanket over my shoulder has joined the scattered shogi pieces on the floor. I must’ve fallen asleep at some point and kicked the board in my sleep.

Papers bearing game notations rustle under my hands, crumpling and sticking on my skin, as I rise and look outside to the new year’s sky.

It’s morning.

A grey morning.

A cold, grey morning.

And there’s shogi to do.

Ah, I should probably eat….but making breakfast is a pain.

Hmmm, I should at least drink some water. No, later.

There’s laundry too—when was the last time I did it?

Right, at least I should change my clothes—but maybe later. It’s too much. I’ll just do shogi.

And the next morning will be the same. I’ll do shogi.

And the day after tomorrow will come and it’ll be the same. I’ll do shogi.

And then next year will come and I…

Author Comment:

Things get better, as Rei will learn, but it takes time. Also, there’s nothing like an existential crisis that can get you to read a book on philosophy and/or religion. Just…maybe not a book called A Monkey’s Guide. Word defintion taken from here.

There’s one more chapter planned for January and then one chapter (hopefully) for each month after. Comments, critics, and questions are always welcome.

PS. Did anyone notice the reference to a recent anime?

#march comes in like a lion #3月のライオン #sangatsu no lion #rei kiriyama #fanfiction #saras writes #here i go again making another tough thinking fic #lessee if anybody sticks with it #many thanks if you do #please pray for rei

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jibbyscorner · 3 years

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Jibby Travels: Taking the Sunrise Bus, Going Anywhere

𝙒𝙚'𝙧𝙚 𝙜𝙤𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙤𝙣 𝙖𝙣 𝙖𝙬𝙚𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚, 𝙙𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙨𝙘𝙖𝙧𝙮! 𝙏𝙝𝙧𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙢𝙤𝙣𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙤𝙪��, 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙝𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙮! 𝙆𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙧, 𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙤'𝙨 𝙦𝙪𝙚𝙨𝙩!

— Killer Quest! From the musical: The Lightning Thief, The Percy Jackson Musical

"𝘖𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘥 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯

𝘎𝘰𝘪𝘯' 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐'𝘷𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯

𝘚𝘦𝘦𝘪𝘯' 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐 𝘮𝘢𝘺 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯

𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘪𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘥 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯... "

— On the Road Again, Willie Nelson

4:00 𝘼𝙈, 𝙄𝙉 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙆𝙄𝙏𝘾𝙃𝙀𝙉

𝗪aking up early in the morning will always be considered as a huge bummer for a night owl person like me, but today is not that day. As I'm rummaging through my kitchen, quietly preparing a coffee for a burst of energy, and casually looking through the kitchen window, I know that I'm going to have a great day, because this day is a moment reserved only for adventures. I've already packed my things such as extra clothes and pocket money. I've already prepared my snacks. And, of course, made sure I have fully recharged my phone. The air is cold and crisp, and while I for one like this weather, I can't help but long for the warm, kind of humid atmosphere me and my classmates are going to feel once we're in our set of destinations. I found myself smiling, really excited because today is the day I'm going on a field trip with my beloved classmates. And I can't wait to witness the beautiful animals and magnificent surroundings we are all fated to encounter in this educational tour. It's going to be a sweaty, but fun day!

5:00 𝘼𝙈, 𝙄𝙉 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝘽𝙐𝙎

Around 5 AM me and my brother have managed to arrive in school, just in time for the busses to leave the campus. Thank God! We still made it in time! I went to my batch's bus and hurriedly looked for my assigned seat. I have to be honest, walking down the aisle with the stares of my bus mates pierced through my soul. I was the last one to arrive and it felt really embarrassing. Just a tip, ladies and gents: make sure to arrive early at your meeting spot when traveling with friends!

After that, it was a moment of laughter and storytellings. As I got to my seat, I immediately got in touch with my seat mate. The bus moved in a moderate pace and off we go! We're about to go to our first destination, which is Jest Camp, found on Subic Bay, Freeport Zone. And since it's a long trip, some of my classmates decided to sleep. Road trips are a favorite of mine, and I just stayed awake, listened to calming music, and stared at the bus window. It was, once again, a moment of quietness, and I watched as the sun slowly rises. The golden sun followed us, wherever we went. From dark blue the sky gradually turned bright orange, and at last, morning has officially come. Watching the change happen felt truly calming! It's been a while since I've witness the sun rise.

Around 7:30 AM my classmates finally woke up. We made some stop overs so we can buy snacks at convenience stores or pee on gas station restrooms, and after that our adventure continued. Sightseeing is really fun if you have some friends to talk to, and that is what we did while looking through the magnificent view of fields and mountains.

Right before we reached our destination, we were greeted by the vast expanse of sea. On our side of the bus we can see through the whole encompassing, breathaking view of blue, with waves surfacing on the shore every now and then. It was a beautiful sight, we haven't even arrived at the place but I'm already captivated by the creation of God. You can see birds flying overhead, and I just know that when the windows were open, even with the small polution affecting the area, I would still be able to smell the citrus and salty scent of the ocean breeze. But alas, that is not our destination, and so our bus continued to move forward.

At last, after countless gossiping and vibing with my classmates, we have finally arrived at the Jest camp. It was 9 AM when we arrived, and the sun is slowly rising through over our heads, showering us with mild heat. Preparing our things that we would bring to the venue (which consisted of a hat, umbrella, our wallets, and a bottle of water, all contained in our small bags), we left the bus. On the way there we found some other students from different schools too, and as a polite students of Shining Hope Academy, we smiled at them and waved, building a warm gesture between the both of our group.

8:00 𝘼𝙈, 𝙄𝙉 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙅𝙀𝙎𝙏 𝘾𝘼𝙈𝙋

The entrance already looks exciting. At the gates you would see two pillars supporting two long logs. And in it lies the name of the destination: Jest Camp, lettered in yellow font, with their logo placed in the middle. The air feels fresher here, the fresh trees and grass smell lingering under our noses. The structure is a huge wood house designed with very campy colors and ornaments. The look of the lobby already looks promising, like it's hinting an exciting show inside the venue. There's animal stuffed toys lined on the shelves of their desks, all waiting to be bought as a souvenir by its visitors. On the left side was a bulletin board filled with pictures of its previous explorers, they seem to be smiling, carefully holding different kinds of animals.

Waiting outside built a sense of anticipation. And then finally, we were invited inside to see a show of creatures with the ability of flight.

---

9:00 𝘼𝙈, 𝙄𝙉 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙎𝙃𝙊𝙒 𝙊𝙁 𝘾𝙊𝙐𝙉𝙏𝙇𝙀𝙎𝙎 𝘽𝙄𝙍𝘿𝙎

Magaul Bird Park, the name of our first destination. Basically, it's a show of different kinds of birds. We were all seated in a amphitheater-looking venue, with rows and rows of seats, all leading downward where a flat stage is found with circus-like designs and a curved water pond just on the far left side of the platform. Well, since this is a show of birds, I will not tell you the specific kinds of winged creature who performed in the show. It will ruin the fun! The moment of surprise is their best element, and you better go there without an idea in mind, it will be more exciting that way, I promise.

This I can say though, it was surely an interesting performance. The birds looked like they're having fun, and they're really trained well. It was like watching an animated movie, but this time, they're very much real! It reminded me a lot of the movie Rio, and it was truly a moment in my life to be able to watch an eagle soaring overhead. Plus, we were able to see lots of cute little ducks! They emerged from the curved pool of water, and they look absolutely adorable. I had to resist the urge to go down there and steal one of them. Thankfully, I managed... barely.

At the end we were also taught on how to make kitchen utensils out of a bamboo stick. It was very educational and will surely help you especially if you want to go camping. And we were also introduced to an interesting looking branch of wood. Apparently, it contains a supply of drinkable water! It was then distributed to a handful amount of students so they can try the said wood water. Unfortunately, I wasn't able to taste it, but one of my classmates told us that it tastes like nature.

That was the end of the show. And after that, we had lunch. It was indeed a great way to start our field trip!

---

11:30 𝘼𝙈, 𝙄𝙉 𝘼 𝙏𝙊𝙐𝙍 𝙊𝙁 𝘽𝙄𝙍𝘿𝙎 𝘼𝙉𝘿 𝘿𝙄𝙁𝙁𝙀𝙍𝙀𝙉𝙏 𝘼𝙉𝙄𝙈𝘼𝙇𝙎

After lunch, we were guided into a tunnel full of birds. A beautiful sound greeted us, their chirping seemingly sounding like the start of a magical song. There were different kinds of them to be found inside the tunnel, there were ducks, a bunch of varieties of small-looking birds (all in different shades of color), and even peacocks! Each of them showcased their colorful feather, their quick flying skills, melodic tweeting... and even their egg. Literally. At the end of the tunnel, we found a freshly laid ostrich egg. One of my friend posed for a picture, looking like he was the one who just laid the egg. The sight made me laugh while we continued on the tour.

The next stop is a room full of different insects. They're not alive, thankfully. I would've been so scared! They were encased in these glass frames, with descriptions found alongside them. There were a bunch of colorful butterflies, with their patterns varying in colors and shapes. There were countless beetles, and other more insects that I can't name. It was definitely a different vibe from our last stop, which is the birds.

We walked through a lot of pathways, and the surrounding has a relaxing vibe in it. There were a lot of trees, and a collection of different eye-catching structures, like the fun-looking bridge, and a tree full of bird cages. This is where you can take your own pictures, and yes, we took a lot of them. Besides, what are photographs, if not captured memories? We took pictures wherever we can, because we know that someday soon we would look at these pictures and see the beautiful sights our eyes had laid upon.

After the tour, our destination in Jest Camp has finally concluded. We went back to our bus to go to the nexr destination, which is Zoobic Safari.

12:30 𝙋𝙈, 𝙄𝙉 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙏𝙄𝙂𝙀𝙍 𝘼𝘿𝙑𝙀𝙉𝙏𝙐𝙍𝙀

The next stop turned out as my most favorite destination. We're headed to Zoobic Safari, found on the same area, in Freeport Zone, Subic Bay. and we're about to go on a covered bus to see some tigers in action! And so that is what we did. Before that, while in the bus, we did our best to change our clothes, it was indeed a hot sunny day, and we were all sweaty. One thing you really need to pack in this trip is a pair of extra clothes, a cap, and even sunblock! You would not like to have a nasty sunburn.

First sight we saw on our next venue is a series of stores. Thousands of different kinds of souvenirs were offered to us in exchange of a considerable amount of cash. But because I'm me, and because it's hot, the store that caught my attention... and my cash, was the milkshake store. I know, it's not a great remembrance, but what can I do? It's indeed hot, and I'm getting really sweaty! Besides, I have to admit, some of the stuff there were really overpriced, it's just not worth it for me.

After the store, we waited for our turn in the tiger experience. We were asked for an extra amount of 20 pesos each so that we can feed the tigers some meat. To be honest, it was quite a bummer, since we thought it was all covered in the expenses we paid before we registered for the field trip. But ah well, moving on!

The extra fee was forgotten when we got to experience the tour. We saw lots of them! Some were walking around the fields, waiting. The meat were provided by the expert tour guides for safety, some were just laying around, and seems to have no care for the world, some were even on a pond, quietly half-submerged under water, maybe because of the heat. When they see the meat being offered to them, they hurriedly went to our bus and ate them with their huge mouth. Their spiky teeth and claws burrowed deep within their gums. It was so awesome. Seeing it in action was something you don't see every day. We screamed when we got sight of them near us, and it was an another level of fun experience. Like I've said, this is my favorite part of our field trip.

After that, it was another tour of animals. Some of my classmates went to an 8D Cinema. But others including me continued on with the tour. Under the burning heat of the afternoon, we walked through different kinds of animals. The air smelled of wilderness, like dirt and trees with hints of animal furs. We saw lions, zebras, horses, turtles, snakes, and goats. Walking through the zoo was interesting, because you get to see many different species of animals. Although I can't help but notice the state of the lions, I still remember their sad figures. They were caged and they look like they want to go out and live on their natural habitat. I have to admit I want to go to the door and free them, but alas, I cannot. We continued on and walked through another section showcasing crocodiles.

The crocodiles look scary, you can also pay some foods to feed on them. I didn't buy one because I was too scared. Some are fast-moving, while some are unmoving at all, frozen like a statue. Speaking of frozen creatures, we also went through a cave of taxidermed animals. It all looks interesting, but at the same time, creepy-looking. They look really alive. The smell of the cave gives a musty scent, like dust and other particles I can't quite name. You might want to have a mask when entering! Maybe it's the effect given by the taxidermy.

After that, it was the end of the trip. We went back to our bus and finally, another roadtrip. This time, it's time to go home.

3:30 𝙋𝙈 𝙩𝙤 7 𝙋𝙈, 𝙄𝙉 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝘽𝙐𝙎, 𝙂𝙊𝙄𝙉𝙂 𝙃𝙊𝙈𝙀

The moment we got onto the bus, we started munching. It was a long tour, and we got really hungry. After that, some of my classmates slept again, tired because of a long day full of walking and exploring. Even though I only had four hours of sleep that day, I didn't sleep. I wanted to enjoy another sightseeing. And I still have lots of snacks to devour.

An hour later, my classmates woke up. We once again laughed together and sang cheesy songs at the top of our lungs. It was our last field trip, so we had to savor it! After three hours of roadtrip, we finally got to our school. And then... with a great feeling in my heart, we went home.

THOUGHTS

Overall, it was a fun trip! The events that happened that day became memorable for me, especially since I got to experience them with friends. One thing I can say about the venues was that I expected more activities. It was just a long period of walking and walking and walking...

The tiger experience was the best part of the trip. It really made me feel like I'm in another world. Seeing an awesome-looking tiger is indeed unforgettable, it's one of the few things I would want to experience again.

In the end, I still had a big smile on my face when I went home. It was just a memory that I know I would remember every once in a while. For me, what makes the travel worthwhile is when you have good company to travel with. So when going on a trip, be sure to bring some friends along with you! It would be nice to explore the world with someone, especially people who are special to you. Want to go on this trip we just had? Well, then plan it now with your friends! I'm sure you would also have a lot of fun in this one.

Estimated cost of the trip: 2,500 PHP per individual

#travelogue #animals #field trip #photography #tiger #adventure #zoo #travel

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wristwatchjournal · 4 years

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In-Depth – Living with the A. Lange & Söhne Odysseus Steel

On October 24, 2019, A. Lange & Söhne came up with something entirely new, an important step for this usually rather conservative high-end watch brand; it was a sports watch, made in stainless steel, with a bracelet – 3 unprecedented features for ALS that made this very watch, the Odysseus, quite a topic of conversation. During the recent digital Watches & Wonders, the German brand introduced another Odysseus, now in white gold and not on a metal bracelet, but on a leather or rubber strap. It’s been almost a year since I first saw the steel Odysseus, and recently Lange gave me the opportunity to wear it for some time. So, it is time to give it a second thought / look and to report on my experience while properly living with it, not only putting it on the wrist for a photo shoot.

Introductory note

What exactly is the Odysseus? Well, we can’t skip the ‘luxury sports watch’ topic… With A. Lange & Söhne’s main competitors – AP, PP and VC – all historical members of this watch category, the immediate reaction when ALS launched the Odysseus was to compare it with the Royal Oak, the Nautilus and the Overseas, the three definitive icons of the 1970s-inspired, integrated bracelet, luxury sports watch gang. Last year it took me a minute to realise, and even today my position towards the luxury sports watches and the Odysseus remains the same: comparing the Odysseus with these three icons is a mistake.

The Holy Trinity of luxury sports watches – Overseas, Nautilus, Royal Oak… And no, to me, the ALS Odysseus isn’t playing in the same category.

For starters, the Odysseus is NOT a luxury sports watch with integrated bracelet. It is not a 1970s-inspired watch, it is not an ultra-thin time-and-date timepiece, it is not a watch with a barrel-shaped case (like all three mentioned above), it is not a watch with an octagonal/porthole bezel, it doesn’t feature screws or decorative elements on the bezel. So, no, I’m not comparing the Odysseus to these 3 watches – and you know me, I love luxury sports watches.

So what is Odysseus? To make it short, it is a sports watch made of steel produced by A. Lange & Söhne and featuring most of the original design and technical cues of the brand. It is THE sports Lange, the weekend Lange, the holiday Lange, the daily Lange, the Lange that you can wear all the time. And, in the brand’s history, that is a big first, as in 25+ years of existence A. Lange & Söhne has not produced any watch that could be called sports watch. Yes, there have been a few steel versions of the Lange 1, but that’s another story. To summarize, Odysseus is an important new chapter for the brand, but not one to be directly compared to the Nautilus or the Royal Oak. That being said, it is time to move on to my experience with it.

The daily Lange

Up until now, an A. Lange & Söhne was a luxurious dress watch with Haute Horlogerie credentials, featuring a complicated high-end movement and precious metal cases. It was mostly worn on a leather strap, it was not meant to be water-resistant, it was meant to be this relatively delicate, mechanically-demonstrative Saxon piece of horology. Well, the Odysseus isn’t entirely denying this DNA – far from that, actually – but adds a new dimension to ALS’ usual way to deal with watchmaking. It is the Lange that you’ll wear anytime, anywhere, with anything. It’s the Lange that will stay on your wrist when your precious Lange 1 (or Datograph, or Zeitwerk, or…) would have been in your watch box. It is the Lange that ou wear when jumping in the pool. It is the Lange that you’ll wear this summer while drinking a glass of wine at the beach while wearing a linen shirt, shorts and loafers. And still, this watch comes with everything you’d expect from a Lange.

Odysseus is nothing else than a sports Lange, and it doesn’t try to be what it isn’t…

To understand the Odysseus and spot the resemblance with other watches from ALS, follow me and try to remove the bracelet from the equation. Once you’ve done that, look at the case and the case only. And then, this becomes clearer. Odysseus has a typical Lange case, but made of stainless steel. The watch has a fairly compact diameter, with 40.5mm measured and a height of 11.1mm. The shape is identical to most Lange watches, with a round, convex polished bezel and a central container that follows the same shape too – at least on the left-hand side. And then there are the lugs… Yes, this watch has classical lugs and not a lug module that extends from the case like a Nautilus or a RO. And if you look at these lugs, they are shaped just like a Datograph or a Lange 1, just slightly more robust.

The right-hand side of the case is certainly what sets this watch apart from the rest of ALS’ production. To ‘masculinize’ the look of the watch and give it a sportier identity, the brand uses a clever trick. What could appear as a crown guard is, actually a ‘module’ that hides two pushers. Instead of having two recessed correctors in the caseband, the pushers are oversized and become an integral part of the design. And not only this is a very nice visual feature, but it also makes the correction of the day and date complications extremely easy and pleasant. As you can see, the case isn’t very slim and has a certain robustness, something that I personally prefer in this context – don’t get me wrong, I love ultra-thin watches, but considering the overall design of this watch, I think this 11mm height suits the watch.

Besides the use of stainless steel for the case, the Odysseus comes with a combination of a screw-down crown and a screwed caseback, guaranteeing a reassuring 120m water-resistance. What’s the point of this waterproofness? Well, on paper, it could handle more than just a jump in the pool and the Odysseus could even withstand some deeper salty waters. Would I, or you, do it? I would, but many wouldn’t, so the whole point of this 120 meters water resistance is to remove risks from the equation, to bring peace of mind, so you’re sure that wherever you’ll wear your Lange (at the beach, while sailing, at the poolside when one of your friends has the pleasant idea to push you in the water…), it will survive. It makes the Odysseus the Lange to be used – and abused if you’d want to.

The dial and the useful functions

The dial of the Odysseus is following the same idea that we’ve seen with the case. Yes, it is sportier and yet, it features so many elements that are 100% A. Lange & Söhne. For this introductory model, ALS went for a safe dark blue colour, which suits the stainless steel case perfectly, offering contrast and cold tones for a sporty feeling – and also something different from the usual silvery-white dials produced by the brand in the Lange 1 or Saxonia collections.

The dial is well divided in clear sectors, emphasized by the use of different textures and steps. As such, it is readable at a glance, with hands and indexes that are greatly proportioned – the hands are the perfect length and coincide with the indexes or the minute track on the inner flange. The central area has a nice grained texture that avoids reflections and attracts the attention on the rest of the dial; the polished, bright hands and markers, which are all filled with Super-LumiNova for a very decent nighttime legibility.

This was for the sports part of the Odysseus. Now, there’s the Lange part of the watch, which is basically all the rest. Fonts, logo, inscriptions, shape of the markers/hands, position of the indications… everything is in line with the brand’s design codes and immediately makes the link with the rest of the collection. There’s no doubt about the provenance of this watch, despite its casual attire.

What’s even more Lange are the three sub-indications. Yes, these large windows for the date and the weekday might cause some debates, and so does the presence of a subsidiary seconds dial in the sports context, however, it is also a way to blend this watch in the Saxon tradition, as well as providing useful indications on a daily basis. And there’s this utterly cool connection with the Zeitwerk – guilty, I love these two windows. The one on the right side is Lange’s oversized date, displayed on two discs. The one of the left is the day of the week, again a practical indication when wearing this watch in a business context. And I can easily imagine that future versions can host a second time zone for instance by using these windows… And that would make a great addition to the collection.

Legible, clear, still entirely true to Lange’s styling, the dial is, to me, one of the most successful elements of this Odysseus. And I’m also very curious to see the white gold/grey dial version in the metal, as its dial looks even more captivating.

A new, coherent movement

Considering this sportier context, Lange made the choice for a new and more robust movement. At the expense of repeating myself, we’re not in an ultra-thin luxury sports watch context here and using one of Lange’s existing thin movements, to me, wouldn’t be coherent. The choice of a larger, more solid and slightly thicker movement does make sense here. And so does the central rotor and not an off-centred 3/4 oscillating weight or a micro-rotor.

So, the choices for this new calibre L155.1 Datomatic were focussed on daily use and resistance. The self-winding itself is a no brainer, as it makes full sense in this context. Another proof of this new orientation is the transversal balance bridge, which replaces the usual balance cock used in Lange movements – a transversal bridge offers more stability and resistance to shocks than a cock, held in place to a single point. And there’s the 4Hz frequency, more modern and more adapted to a sports watch.

The movement is clearly a Lange movement. Visually, no doubt about its provenance, with a 3/4 place, blued screws, thin Glahütte ribbings and a hand-engraved motif on the balance bridge. Some traditional features, such as the swan-neck regulation – which has been given some space atop the balance bridge – and the screwed gold chatons have been kept too.

Finally, even though the watch is more casual and encased in stainless steel, this calibre L155.1 Datomatic is finished and decorated in the exact same way as any other Lange movement – meaning to an Haute Horlogerie level, with hand-polished bevels, pèrlage, black polished steel parts. The modern touch is seen on the rotor, which is dark grey coated and equipped with a heavy platinum mass to provide greater inertia.

The complex bracelet

This was certainly the most debated element on this Odysseus… But there are two sides to a coin. One side is subjective and does with the look/design of this bracelet. The second, far more objective, has to do with quality and practicality and here, Lange performs well – to put it mildly. This bracelet is a great example of practicality, solidity, cleverness and comfort.

Design is personal and, if you ask me, I’m good with this bracelet and how it blends with the case. Certainly, it is a bit bulky and large, which is due to the width of the first links – which follow the sides of the lugs. I’m not going to argue this point; to each his own. Instead, I’m going to focus on rational elements.

As you can see, the bracelet is an elaborate architecture, with complex facets, all finished to an impressive extent. The flat surfaces are finely brushed and all the edges are enlightened by a polished bevel. The bracelet is flexible, yet feels rock-solid once secured to the wrist. No doubt, the bracelet of the Odysseus is impressive and echoes with Lange’s usual quality standards. All surfaces are smooth and this bracelet is a joy to wear.

What adds to the comfort is the presence of an appreciable precision adjustment mechanism in the clasp. By pressing the round ALS logo on the clasp while you still wear the watch, you have the ability to extend the bracelet length up to 7mm, very practical in summer, when your wrist becomes a tiny bit bigger due to warm weather or sports activities. The downside of this feature is a clasp that is fairly thick. Two pushers on the side allow opening the clasp. The construction is neat and feels like well-oiled machinery.

Thanks to the sequence above, you can discover this bracelet’s last feature: a self-adjusting system for the initial sizing of the length. Thanks to small recessed pushers on the outer links, and to the tool that is provided by Lange in the box, you can adjust the bracelet to your wrist without having to visit an authorized dealer or a boutique. Certainly, this seems like quite a complex puzzle at first but once the user manual understood, it is pretty easy to do and well-conceived.

Verdict

As the owner of several watches that can be categorized as ‘luxury sports watches’, I know exactly how they feel on the wrist, what to expect from them, how and where I can wear them… and thus I’m fairly confident in saying that the Odysseus isn’t one of these watches. It plays in its own league, it doesn’t try to imitate what’s already existing and what’s currently in demand. This is a steel sports A. Lange & Söhne, period.

What’s my take after extensively wearing the watch? I love the design and functions. I love the fact that it has its own personality and that, at the same time, it retains most of the iconic elements of a Lange watch. I love the comfort and the clever systems, both the integrated pushers for the day-date and the bracelet. But as I said in an interview with the brand’s CEO, my only regret is that I can’t wear it on a rubber or leather strap…

Price and availability

The A. Lange & Söhne Odysseus in stainless steel is part of the permanent collection and isn’t limited. It can now be ordered from authorized dealers and boutiques, however with very limited availability. Finding one new, at retail price from a boutique, will be quite challenging.

The steel Odysseus (ref. 363.179) retails at EUR 28,000, which is in line with other steel sports watches from high-end watchmakers and the impressive level of execution. More details at www.alange-soehne.com.

The post In-Depth – Living with the A. Lange & Söhne Odysseus Steel appeared first on Wristwatch Journal.

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travelling-accountant · 6 years

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New Post has been published on https://www.travellingaccountant.net/achievies/countries-visited/kenya/3-reasons-masai-mara-travel-list/

3 reasons why Masai Mara should be on your travel to-do list

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Who hasn’t heard of the Masai Mara yet? Located in south-west Kenya, it’s one of Africa’s greatest wildlife reserves. It’s actually one eco-system, together with the Serengeti National Park in Tanzania. One of the “top attractions” is the wildebeest migration. As this takes place between July and October however and we went in January, it’s still on our bucket list – but I’m sure we’ll get to that one day…

On our vacation to Kenya & Tanzania, the Masai Mara was the third “park” on our itinerary. Arriving from Lake Nakuru, it took us about 5 hours to arrive. Anyone a little familiar with travelling in Africa, knows that the roads aren’t always top-notch – we drove mostly on dirt road. Don’t get me wrong – not complaining here – it’s all part of the experience and the start to a wonderful 2-day adventure in this amazing natural habitat.

So, what makes Masai Mara so great?

1: Wildlife, wildlife, wildlife

Pretty obvious, right? Still, we had big expectations before heading there, so couldn’t feel anxious of them not being filled in. Our worries seemed to be unnecessary, to say the least…

We didn’t have to wait for long… When driving through the Masai Mara gate, our driver Alex asked us: “Which animal do you expect to see first?”. Not sure what all of our answers were, but none of us got it right. Only a minute later we saw it: our first elephant. Wait, no – that’s not entirely correct – our first group of elephants that is, including a baby. We were ecstatic, as you can imagine!

Another highlight – the hippo! We actually saw quite a few hippos, but the most memorable encounter was on our second day in Masai Mara. We were driving over a type of small “bridge” over a water pool. Suddenly Alex stopped and drove backwards: “there’s a hippo ready to enter the water”. We all got off our seats and searched for the natural born killer. We saw him hiding away behind the bushes. Alex drove a little further, waiting for the animal to show himself better. There he was – staring us in the eye. He really looked fierce. So Alex kept his distance. We waited, he waited. Tension… Suddenly the hippo started to run from left to right and back. Everyone in the car was holding their breath (while keeping the camera’s running, of course). Then the hippo jumped into the water and we didn’t see him again. Woooow… that was spectacular!

Another unforgettable moment was our first encounter with cheetahs. We were – again – so lucky… We had just seen our first hippo when Alex stopped the car and pointed us the cheetahs – about 3 of them. Two of them were cuddling a bit (or so it seemed) – they really didn’t bother we were there. Our cameras going like crazy, suddenly Alex’ voice broke a bit, while he was saying that he thought to see a rhino a little further. He couldn’t really believe it himself. But indeed, there he was. A few tens of metres away from the cheetahs.

We actually got back to the cheetahs by the end of the day, when sun was starting to set. It seemed like they had just eaten, because a few metres further an impala was looking at them, ready to start running when they decided to move into his direction. But the cheetahs had better things to do – relaxing in the last rays of sunshine after another hard day of work in the savannah.

When we left Masai Mara on the morning of the third day, we were in for a treat by the cheetahs. Not sure if it was the same group, but when we left quite early that day we were witnessing them enjoying a feast. Luckily we didn’t see the kill itself – we only saw them enjoying a tender impala… Heart breaking was the noise that another impala was making somewhat further – probably a member of the same herd. But that’s the circle of life, I guess? Interesting to see was the interaction between the cheetahs and other predators trying to get a piece of the pie… Two jackals were continuously trying to get closer as well as a few southern ground hornbills. Amazing sight… We stood there quite some time, gazing upon nature’s way of working. This was quite a farewell gift…

Of course we saw a lot more animals than described above – I’ve listed them below and you can see them in the pictures below: – Topi – Mongoose – Saddle-billed stork – Southern ground hornbill – Bateleur – Giant or great heron – Hyena – Lion (see other post: The Big 5 in 3 days) – Giraffe – Buffalo – Vulture – Leopard (see other post: The Big 5 in 3 days) – Warthog – Hamerkop – Waterbuck – Crocodile – Impala – Thomson Gazelle – Hartebeest

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2: Amazing place to spend the night: Mara Serena Lodge

Ok, we have to admit – this wasn’t THE best place we stayed at during our vacation in Kenya / Tanzania. The fact is that each and every one of the hotels / lodges / tent camps etc. were unforgettable! Without exaggerating, also from that perspective this vacation was one of the best we ever experienced! What we liked most about the overnights is that none of these were standard-looking hotel buildings. That was also the case here, in Mara Serena Lodge.

The entrance alone is pretty impressive. A typical African building and when you approach the entrance, an dramatic view emerges from across the reception area onto the savannah, as the lodge is built on a hill.

Each of the rooms also offers – from your own private balcony – a similar amazing view on the Mara. The rooms are warm and cosy, with a typical African vibe, and offer all modern comfort.

There’s a pool area, where you can relax while – again – not having to miss anything of the surrounding landscape. A warthog was eating very near to the pool area, a little down the hill. His snoring noises were adorable and blended in perfectly.

The lodge offers different possibilities in view of dining. You can opt for some special arrangements, like a breakfast at the hippo pool, a bush dinner or enjoy drinks during a so-called “sundowner”. We chose for the standard formula, being breakfast and dinner in the main restaurant, which actually also overlooks the plains. It has an open-plan seating, both inside and outside. Linked to the dining room is the bar area, where some cosy couches offer the ideal setting for a glass of wine before heading over to dinner.

Breakfast and lunch are presented as a buffet, with a wide range of choices. The breakfast options are plenty, with both English breakfast as well as continental choices. In the evening a five-course dinner menu is offered. We have experienced already quite some buffet tables and we really enjoyed this one. It’s not the best one ever, but is certainly above average. The staff is friendly and helpful.

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3: Ideal pic-nick area

On our second day in Masai Mara, we exchanged the buffet lunch for a bush picnic, all taken care off by our super-duper guide Alex. On a typical Masai blanket our lunch was laid out – again, with more than you could hope for. Surrounded by the savannah wildlife sounds, we absorbed this basic feeling-good sentiment and enjoyed every minute of it. Near to us, some vultures were searching for food as well, but I think they were looking for something different…

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[vc_video link=”https://youtu.be/53hWO3hJwMg”][vc_video link=”https://youtu.be/BJUwjhuB8Z4″][vc_video link=”https://youtu.be/-72IWYhrrck”][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_gmaps link=”#E-8_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”][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]

Other Countries we visited

Have a look at the other countries we ‘achievied’ to visit, and other Achievies…

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Antigua & Barbuda

Argentina

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Australia

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rtirman-blog · 7 years

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30 Clearing Things UP

Closing up each day amounted to blowing a whistle and yelling, “Everyone out of the pool!” Once everyone was gone, we picked up towels and clothing left behind, and locked up. Thankfully, with Willie’s help, we cleaned the pool each morning. For a lifeguard, if it was a day you didn’t work the entire day until closing, you had no responsibility, except to leave, as was the case that day when I was to be at Sally’s around 8 PM.

Sally lived on Birch Lane, about four short blocks from the Bluegrass Pool. I had my own car…a 1954, Chevy 210 convertible, baby-blue with a dark blue top. I left the pool at 8 PM sharp. In a couple of minutes, I parked in front of her house, took a leisurely walk to the door, and rang the doorbell. Mrs. Halpern, her mother, opened the door, and gave me a warm welcome. Sally was almost ready. Next, I got to meet Howard Halpern, Sally’s dad, and Ron Halpern, her 19-year-old brother. Her dad worked for the Newsday, a popular, daily newspaper on Long Island. Her brother, Ron, was waiting to go to basic training in the Marine Corps. I had seen him before, at the pool. He was an expert diver off the high diving board. It was fun to meet Sally’s whole family, even her dogs. The St. Bernard, especially. I’m sorry, but I can’t remember that dog’s name, but I do remember his smell. He smelled exactly like what Sally’s hair frequently smelled like. As our relationship progressed, I watched Sally hug that dog countless times. Many of those times, she got her head under the dog’s drooling mouth. I never made a comment about that…she loved her dogs.

All of a sudden, down the steps came Sally. Wow! I cannot say enough about what I saw when I looked up at her. It was like seeing Miss America descending from heaven, except she wasn’t wearing a bathing suit. In front of her family, I was cordial. I gave her quick kiss on the cheek. She was all smiles…exactly the same as I was feeling. As soon as everyone told us to have a good time, we were out the door and in the car. She leaned over, gave me a big kiss on my cheek, and a wonderful hug that made me feel even happier. Off to the movie we went!

As you might have guessed, I can’t remember what movie we watched or whether we followed that up with a milkshake. What I do remember was us parking in the darkness near the Wolcott Pool. We started kissing one another. I think our lips were made for each other. I can’t say when it was I fell in love with her, but I think I was in love at that moment. Everything we did seemed natural to me. Without detailing every moment, I soon, very gently, put my hand on her breast. As I gently caressed both her breasts, she just kept on kissing me. She seemed very content with what we were doing. I assumed she had much more confidence, and experience, than me. I never gave it a thought that this might be a new experience for her. But looking back and realizing she was 15 years old, I now think both of us were learning from one another. What matters here is my mother was right- be gentle!

While never straying from that advice, we managed to have many private and precious moments of “learning”. It’s not as if there exists a linear progression of behaviors of which you must have command to get from the first kiss to sleeping together. Perhaps, for some people the end of that road is something other than being together in a bed. Maybe its realizing you both love one another. I suppose my education “off the streets” seemed more like the list: A small kiss -> longer kiss -> French kiss->…-> sleeping together. My brother and I had a friend named Dennis who, on a first date, would secretly stick his penis up through the bottom of a bag of popcorn and then tell his date to help herself. My God, just think about the list he was following. I have no statistics regarding his success or failure. But one thing is certain, his testicles and Id were connected at the hip (rightfully so), but needed some serious re-wiring.

I’m certain there is no list, per se. I don’t know if girls go through the same thing. But from my viewpoint, each guy has his own ideas forged by buddies, movies, brothers and sisters, and many others in his environment. For sure, not many of the guys with whom I grew up have “the little man in the boat” on their list, or have ever heard of it.

I learned about it from Sam, the elevator man, or operator, at St. Joseph Hospital. Sam was a small, black man with whom I would talk whenever I used the main elevator during work. He looked about forty-years old, but he was in his sixties. Sam was filled with special knowledge regarding women and how to make love to them. After he told me about it, I promised him I would not forget it. He said it is nice to be petting a lady’ vagina, but to really turn a woman on you must look at her vagina as a boat with a little man perched on the bow- the part of the vagina closest to the belly button. Once you have found that little man, all you need to do is lightly stroke him, over and over, until your lady is in ecstasy. He added that sometimes that little man is hard to find, but for certain, he’s in the boat.

So, the little man in the boat has, at times, appeared on my list. Sometimes it is kind of hard to decipher whether it’s either the little man, the anchor, or the keel. In such an urgent moment, who has time to decipher? Truthfully, I never got to meet the little man in the boat. I was too scared. I remember her pulling my hand away ending a brave exploration. Funny thing, I pulled her hand away as she tried to find the “big man in my undies.” That was real scary! I think we both discouraged each to not do something we wanted to do.

Inadvertently, I have cleared up a couple of “mysteries”. You now know why Sally’s hair smelled like crap, and you also know I had my fourth (or fifth?) romantic encounter, and it turned into love. There is one more thing about which I need to expound upon, and that is, Willie.

Over the entire summer, Willie was ready, willing, and able to do anything we asked him to do. His presence was a learning experience for everyone. He was capable of doing so much more than we thought he could do. When he cleaned the bathrooms, they got cleaned. After a bit of education, every job was carried out as we instructed. I wished I could go back in time so I could give Willie an official job with an official title. I believe everyone connected to the Bluegrass Pool would have been super proud.

It turned out, he won the hearts of just about everyone in that community. As I have told you before, Willie was working very hard to learn to put his head under water. He needed to learn to do that, and keep himself under water for, at least, three seconds. I helped him each morning down at the shallow end of the pool. One day, late in August, a bunch of kids came over to the lifeguard chair, where I was sitting, yelling for me to come to the shallow end of the pool. Willie promised all the kids he was going to go under water. Okay! and I walked to the shallow end. Willie was in waist-high water, waving and smiling at me. By now, the pool at the shallow end was empty of people, except for Willie. Everyone was poolside cheering him on, Go Willie!, Go Willie! I got into the pool and walked over to Willie. He was as happy as a lark.

When I got in front of him, I smiled and said, whenever you are ready, and remember, I’ll be right here. Willie stretched out his arms, and began to lower his body. Everyone quieted down as the water level began to rise to his chest, to his neck, and to his chin. He took a deep breath and held it. He closed his eyes. The water climbed over his mouth, over his nose and eyes, and finally, over his head. I had to put my hand up to keep everyone quiet. In font of everyone, Willie disappeared! One-thousand one…one-thousand two…one-thousand three…one-thousand four…no Willie! At one-thousand-seven, like the rising Phoenix, Willie blasted out of the water and into the sky! The roaring crowd, people yelling, Way to go, Willie, and Willie smiling in triumph made a lasting, loving, and happy memory for all.

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jmuwrtc-blog · 7 years

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My Leather Throne- Profile of a Place

Being away at school really makes me miss driving. I feel so helpless not being able to drive myself to CVS or a supermarket, and figuring out how to get the shopper bus back home is somehow always difficult. I miss driving to the beach every week in the summer. I even miss the traffic through town. It makes me realize how much I took driving and my car for granted. The CRV helps me escape from any circumstance, even if that circumstance is, ironically enough, being completely lost on the road.

I got my license a few months before my junior year ended. I started off driving my dad’s old car because it was the oldest one we had. My parents figured that if I got in an accident, we could just get a new car since it was the most low-risk car price-wise. My dad drove a shiny, light blue Nissan Scion xB, the color similar to the blue text bubble of imessages. If you don’t know what kind of car that is, picture a toaster on wheels. With a license plate frame that reads “I’m Tuned Into NPR.” Now, picture a teenager driving that toaster on wheels. Of course, I was thankful that I had a car to drive whenever and wherever I needed, but this mode of transportation wasn’t exactly ideal for a teenage girl in a small town. Especially in a small town where everyone knows everything about you and can recognize your car by the bumper stickers on it.

Fast forward in time a little bit. My dad gets a new car. A brand new silver Honda CRV, but of course, with my family, he got it at a really good price. My parents sat me down on the couch in a very serious way. I knew a talk was coming, I just couldn’t think of anything I had done wrong recently. They ended up giving me a letter that said that they realized how unsafe the Toaster was for me to drive. I hadn’t really thought about that -- I mean besides the shuddering sound it made sometimes -- but it was alright for me. They said that after a lot of deliberation, they decided to let me drive the CRV because it was the safest of our cars. I had driven the CRV once or twice and it drove a lot more smoothly than the Toaster. I remember being so happy and thankful that I started crying, in typical teenage girl fashion. I felt so incredibly spoiled by my parents, but thankful nonetheless, and to this day I still feel the same way.

In a parking lot full of other gray CRV’s I could describe mine exactly. Look inside the front windows- 90% chance there will be at least one old Dunkin Donuts cup and napkins all over. Check the back too; there is a water volleyball ball that I bought two summers ago and used for a whole ten minutes until the wind made it impossible to play. There are a total of five bumper stickers: a circular red and black one for my high school lacrosse team on the left side of my license plate, and another circular one on the other side for JMU. Another black and red one for my high school is on the left side of the back window. There is a set of three little red Hawaiian hibiscus flowers on the farthest back window on the right side, and a sticker that says ‘Pennsylvania’ instead of “Patagonia” in the Patagonia logo and font. My parents got me a flip flop key chain when we went to Jamaica a few years ago. It says “one love” and hangs from my rearview mirror. It’s there in an attempt to remind me to keep my cool while driving, but I’m from New Jersey so it doesn’t really help all that much with the road rage. There are a few deep scratches on the roof from last winter. I went to dig the car out of the snow and accidentally scraped the corner of the shovel on the roof leaving really noticeable marks. I can’t even describe how heated my parents got, especially when I screamed back at them, “why is it such a big deal?” Since I scratched the paint off, if it rusts over it’ll compromise the roof itself. Kind of is a big deal!

My car somehow makes music sound better. One of my favorite playlists that I’ve curated is designed for singing in the car. Aptly named, “Concert Car” assists me in the most difficult of South Jersey traffic. I always have music playing when I drive, even if I’m just driving down the street. My music choice is pretty much always perfect for wherever I am headed, except for the time I got so lost driving home from the PHL airport. What should have been a 15 minute drive turned into an hour of confusion and crying. I drove around the Philadelphia stadium district for about half an hour while my 2000’s playlist blasted Sean Kingston on full volume. Not ideal driving music for the moment, to say the least.

The amount of times that car has saved my life is almost comical. I (knock on wood) haven’t actually gotten in a car accident, but I’d attribute that fact to the brakes on my car. Driving is one of the things I miss most about being away from home: the freedom to drive, to escape, or get lost. That is why my beloved, smelly, homey Honda CRV is my favorite place to escape; it lets me escape to wherever I want to. Other than near death experiences, my car and I have had some pretty solid times. I remember the countless fights I had in it with the guy I dated my junior year. I can even recall the drive I took after we broke up. But one of the most memorable arguments my car has been part of was one that I had with my dad. I couldn’t even tell you what it was about, but I remember my mom was away and couldn’t be the mediator for us, which she usually is. I don’t fight with my parents often, but when I do, its bad. Tears, yelling, our dogs barking at us because they don’t understand what is going on. It got to the point to where my dad had to take my keys away, but I had left my car unlocked in the driveway. I went to my room and my dad kept coming in to have a conversation, while that was probably the last thing I wanted to do in the moment. My next move was to storm out of the house to sit in my car and lock it from the inside out. I sat there for a while wishing that whole day could just end. My parents know it's bad when I just sit in my car contemplating things, but it is where I can escape to at times where my own room does not suffice.

Since I love driving so much, I’m usually the driver for day trips to the beach with my friends. I could easily give you a detailed timetable of how those beach days go. Get up at 7, leave around 8 to get to the beach by 10 or 11, with time to get gas and Dunkin as we head out. The amount of sand that has made its way in and out of the CRV could build a new beach. Absolutely nothing makes me happier than driving down the residential back roads adjacent to route 73 with all the windows down and the sunroof open. That is my euphoria. Sitting in my leather throne with my friends surrounding me, screaming the lyrics to whatever song is playing into the salty air. When I first started driving it, the CRV only took $20 to fill up completely- I even used to say “Twenty buck fills ‘er up!” Driving to and from the beach took less than a full gallon, and although gas prices have gone up since Christie decided to tax us NJ residents on gas, putting gas in my car is still never a pain.

Driving isn’t always fun and games, though. Last summer I got a job nannying for a family in town. They had a beautiful, huge house with a pool in the backyard. It was just three kids; the two girls were pretty easy to handle, but the youngest -- a boy -- was impossible. I hadn’t really driven kids around before nannying, so I made sure to be 10000% cautious whenever driving them. Of course they knew every song on the radio. Their favorite songs were “One Dance” by Drake and “Can’t Stop the Feeling” by Justin Timberlake. The latter was from one of their favorite movies: “Trolls.” They knew all the words, and I felt like we were little family every time that came on. I can still hear them singing the words, “I got that sunshine in my pocket, got that good soul in my feet.” It was like we became the Partridge Family for a few minutes every time their songs came on. Whenever I pass that house I think back to singing with the kids all sitting in the back like little ducks in a row. At times, they tested my patience, but in the end I enjoyed my drives with them.

Driving around my hometown is almost comical because of how small it is. There’s almost no need to drive anywhere at all! I did soccer in high school but it became such a political game that I quit and joined tennis -- a sport I’d never done. I was one of the only seniors on the team so, of course, I got stuck with carpool duty the whole season. Since we had so few girls who could drive to practice, I was stuck with an overflowing car every other day. The most I fit into my car was seven other people, when my car can only fit four others. A passenger, two in the trunk and four in the back. One of my parents’ only rules was “everybody in that car has to have a seat belt,” I can still hear them reminding me. Sorry mom! Sorry dad! A lot of the girls I drove were freshmen. They looked up to me because I would always give them advice. They thought I was funny and a savage when in reality, I just had Senioritis (what we called that lack of caring that hits you senior year of high school). A few of the girls clung onto me and we ended up becoming really close and we actually still are. Who knew a car could help me make friends!!

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travelling-accountant · 6 years

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New Post has been published on https://www.travellingaccountant.net/achievies/countries-visited/kenya/3-reasons-masai-mara-travel-list/

3 reasons why Masai Mara should be on your travel to-do list

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So, what makes Masai Mara so great?

1: Wildlife, wildlife, wildlife

Pretty obvious, right? Still, we had big expectations before heading there, so couldn’t feel anxious of them not being filled in. Our worries seemed to be unnecessary, to say the least…

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2: Amazing place to spend the night: Mara Serena Lodge

Each of the rooms also offers – from your own private balcony – a similar amazing view on the Mara. The rooms are warm and cosy, with a typical African vibe, and offer all modern comfort.

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3: Ideal pic-nick area

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Other Countries we visited

Have a look at the other countries we ‘achievied’ to visit, and other Achievies…

[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column]

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Antigua & Barbuda

Aruba

Australia

Barbados

Canada

Colombia

Costa Rica

Cuba

Curaçao

Dominican Republic

[/vc_column][/vc_row]

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travelling-accountant · 6 years

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New Post has been published on https://www.travellingaccountant.net/achievies/countries-visited/kenya/3-reasons-masai-mara-travel-list/

3 reasons why Masai Mara should be on your travel to-do list

So, what makes Masai Mara so great?

1: Wildlife, wildlife, wildlife

Pretty obvious, right? Still, we had big expectations before heading there, so couldn’t feel anxious of them not being filled in. Our worries seemed to be unnecessary, to say the least…

2: Amazing place to spend the night: Mara Serena Lodge

Each of the rooms also offers – from your own private balcony – a similar amazing view on the Mara. The rooms are warm and cosy, with a typical African vibe, and offer all modern comfort.

3: Ideal pic-nick area

youtube

Other Countries we visited

Have a look at the other countries we ‘achievied’ to visit, and other Achievies…

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Antigua & Barbuda

Aruba

Australia

Barbados

Canada

Colombia

Costa Rica

Curaçao

Dominican Republic

Greece

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