#memoryscape

[filoo]

“One and the Same” She escaped into the past and stayed long enough to become part of it Just like the memory, one and the same. . Sculpted in #3dcoat and rendered in #blender

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[plasmagrrl]

Memoryscape

[jmkartworks]

A Taste of Summer (from a sketchbook) – Pencil, ink, watercolor – 8.5 x 11 inches.

A famous song begins with the following lines:

“Just about a year ago I set out on the road Seekin' my fame and fortune Lookin' for a pot of gold Things got bad and things got worse I guess you’ll know the tune. . .”

I’m guessing that even though you may have forgotten the first six lines of the tune, you will not have forgotten the last:

“Oh Lord, stuck in Lodi again.”

Creedence Clearwater Revival’s 1969 song made Lodi, California feel to me like one of the circles of Hell. But there are worse places in this world to be stuck in: Spokane, Washington, Broma, Sweden, and just about anywhere in Texas come immediately to mind.

At least Lodi has some excellent wineries, especially if you fancy bold reds. This watercolor shows the tasting room of one of them. At first sight it felt dark and imposing, but it’s dramatic and I thought it showed an imaginative use of space. I didn’t paint it to advertise the winery or the city; it just happened to appear during the travels of some friends spending a beautiful day in the pleasant company of Dionysus.

That was a while ago. Today, in the foothills of the Sierra Nevada mountains, it’s the middle of March, the middle of Lent, and many of us feel stuck. We may be finished with Winter, but Winter has not finished with us. Rain and snow are predicted to visit us, yet again, by the end of the week.

So as an act of public service, here’s an image of a sunny afternoon in June that just happened to be in Lodi. Yes, Summer will arrive, no matter where we happen to feel stuck.

More posts on my website: JohnMichaelKeating.com

Other links: [this post on my website] [about my new book]

[myrfing]

also whale memory :]

[moonyskarma]

ENTERING THE S.H.I.E.L.D. DATABASE . . .

loading . . .

loading . . .

loading . . .

WELCOME TO THE S.H.I.E.L.D PERSONNEL DATABASE. CONTINUE?

﹥﹥ YES.

AGENT: Apollo ▇▇▇ ALIAS: Karma ABILITIES:

UMBRAL CONJURATION — Agent ▇▇▇ possesses the ability to manipulate both existing and created shadows. These shadow apparitions defy physical interference and cannot be affected by blade, bullet, or shield.

METAMORPHIC RECONFIGURATION — Wields the ability to alter minute aspects of corporeal identity—voice, facial structure, eye hue, gait, and in extreme circumstances, even the very composition of his fingertips to avoid biometric detection.

MNEMONIC INVASION — By touching two fingers to each temple, Agent ▇▇▇ may access the memoryscape of others, provided mutual trust exists between both parties. He is able to navigate their memories as if perusing through a gallery. (Ability used for intel confirmation.)

MARTIAL POLYMATH — Master of both armed and unarmed combat. Physical attributed exceed baseline human limitations��stamina, flexibility, reaction time. • Bladed weaponry (knives, daggers, short-range projectiles) • Firearms & precision shooting • Archery • Memorization & replication of any combat style after brief observation

OMNIPOTENCE — Agent ▇▇▇ exhibits flawless instinctual strategy and natural capacity for decision-making under extreme pressure. Should mission parameters shift, he adapts.

VOCAL & BEHAVIORAL MIMICRY — Able to replicate cadences, voices, and physical nuances with unsettling accuracy. (Ability used for infiltration, deception, & manipulation)

SUBLIME INFLUENCE — Agent ▇▇▇ commands attention with presence alone; influence is subtle, often imperceptible. Subjects frequently follow directives before realizing they've received them. (WARNING: Effects may bypass conscious resistance. Prolonged exposure can cause psychological disorientation or unintended compliance in teammates and targets alike.)

image credit & inspired by : @rosebudshifter <3

why is my surname redacted ??? you'll find out very soon (aka whenever i have the time to make an intro </3)

. . . back to the circus 🎪

[morgan-va]

Chapter 29: Remembering. (Serial Designation V x reader)

Masterlist

TW: Descriptions of pain and suffering

Back in her room, Uzi spins her chair around, a satisfied chuckle escaping her as N and V begin to stir. It worked. She actually got their memories back.

V, always the quickest to act, barely takes a second before her hand snaps into a chainsaw, the jagged edge revving to life as she growls. "What the hell, Uzi?! What gives you the right to snoop through our heads?"

She stops mid-threat, her optics flicking to the side. Uzi follows her gaze and freezes. Techie is still wired into the computer, slumped in the chair, motionless. Dimmed optics flicker with scrolling text.

ADMINISTRATOR LOCKOUT: SUCCESSFULBEGINNING DISK CLEANUP|||||________________________________ 7%

Uzi’s stomach drops. No. No, no, no. This shouldn’t be possible, Techie should have woken up, just like N and V. 

Unless...

No. That’s impossible. The only way anyone could be locked inside like this is if… they were inside their own memory simulation as well.

Her breath hitches. That human—the one N called Techie. There’s no way, right?

She snaps her head toward N and V. “Explain. Now. Who the hell was that technician?”

N shifts as his newfound memories resurface, "I know! That technician was—"

“An old friend,” V interrupts, her voice unusually subdued. Her optics don’t meet Uzi’s. "From before... everything happened."

V exhales sharply, glancing at Techie's lifeless form. "I wasn’t sure at first, but as I’ve spent time with them, I realized... That drone sitting in front of us? That’s that human."

Uzi’s eyes widen as V’s words sink in. Her voice rises into a near-shout. “And you didn’t think to mention that before I sent them into a memoryscape with that eldritch freakshow?!”

V doesn’t hesitate. Her chainsaw revs louder, the jagged blade stopping just short of Uzi’s throat. “Oh, I don’t know,” she growls, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Maybe because you ambushed us and jammed yourself into our heads before I had the chance?”

Uzi swallows hard, glaring at V even as she leans back slightly from the weapon. “Fine. You make a good point.”

“Damn right, I do.” V lowers her weapon, but her glare remains sharp. “Now fix it.”

Not needing to be told twice, Uzi spins back to her computer, fingers flying over the keyboard as she desperately tries to regain control. Code floods the screen, scrolling too fast for her to process.

“Come on, come on…” she mutters, sweat beading on her forehead. Every second that bar inches forward, Techie’s chances of waking up shrink.

She grits her teeth and keeps typing. She has to fix this.

Light floods your vision. The sterile hum of fluorescent lights buzzes faintly overhead, and the scent of hot metal and solder fills your nose. 

A workbench stretches out in front of you, scattered with tools, wires, and diagnostic equipment. Right. Your final exam—robotics training. You’ve spent weeks preparing for this, and now you’re almost done.

The test was simple in theory: repair a malfunctioning worker drone suffering from an assortment of mechanical and software issues. Simple. But under pressure? Not so much.

You tighten the last screw into place, sealing the drone’s back panel before setting the screwdriver down with a shaky breath. This should be it. You double-check the wiring, hoping you’ve done everything right. There’s only one way to find out.

Your finger hovers over the power button for a split second before pressing down.

The drone’s optics flicker to life. A soft whir fills the air as it boots up, standing upright before turning to face you.

“Hello!” it chirps, its voice light and pleasant.

Success.

A grin breaks across your face. You did it.

Your professor strides over, their sharp gaze scanning the drone as they run through a quick diagnostic check. They lift the drone’s arms, test its mobility, and check the interface for any lingering errors. After a moment, they nod in approval.

"Everything seems to be in perfect working order," they say, turning to you with an approving smile. "Excellent job. You pass with flying colors."

Relief washes over you. You exhale a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, nodding in thanks as a few of your classmates glance over. Some are still deep in their own work, muttering under their breath as they struggle with their drones. Others shoot you brief looks—some impressed, others indifferent.

Not wanting to linger, you quietly gather your things. The exam is over for you, and there’s no point in sticking around. You sling your bag over your shoulder and make your way toward the door.

Just as your fingers brush against the handle, a loud clatter echoes through the room.

You turn on instinct. One of your classmates has just powered their drone on, and while it seems to function for the most part, something is clearly wrong. Its speech module is glitching, causing it to stutter and garble its words in a mess of static and half-formed syllables.

The student groans in frustration, their expression twisting into anger. "Ugh, stupid thing—"

Before anyone can stop them, they shove the drone off the table.

It crashes to the floor with a sickening crunch.

Without thinking, you rush over, grabbing the student by the arm and spinning them around. "What the hell is wrong with you?!" you snap, anger flaring in your chest. "You can’t just treat them like that!"

The student sneers at you, yanking their arm free. "Calm down. It’s just a hunk of metal," they scoff, rolling their eyes. "Besides, what do you care? You act like they’re people or something."

You clench your fists, heart pounding.

They laugh, shaking their head before shooting you a look of disgust.

"You really are a freak."

That phrase echoes in your mind as everything around you fades away—"You really are a freak."

Over and over again, through the black void.

You open your eyes, the soft sheets of your bed comforting as the morning sun peeks through the curtains. Today’s the day—you’ll be heading out of town for your new job. Some technician gig for a rich family out in the swamp. You’ve been looking for something like this for months, and the offer came out of nowhere, just like that! You didn’t even apply for anything—just created a profile through the JCJenson website, but you hadn’t had a chance to actually browse any listings.

You guess someone’s looking out for you after all.

Rising from bed, you stretch, shaking off the last remnants of sleep before turning your attention to packing. You double-check your suitcase, making sure you haven’t left anything important behind. Clothes, tools, personal items—it’s all here. Just as you’re about to close it, something small and round slips out from between your neatly folded shirts, rolling across the wooden floor with a soft clink.

You bend down, reaching for it. A small, smoky blue gemstone rests against the floorboards, catching the morning light. You pick it up, running your thumb over the smooth surface.

You’ve had this stone since you were a kid. It doesn’t hold any deep sentimental value—not really. You don’t even remember where you got it. But for some reason, you’ve always kept it close. A good luck charm, maybe. You can’t imagine ever parting with it.

You slip it back into your pocket, sighing in relief before zipping up your suitcase. Time to go.

You pick up your suitcase, gripping the handle tightly as you take a deep breath. It’s time.

With a steadying exhale, you step forward and open the door.

Only to find… nothing.

The hallway outside your room is gone, replaced by an endless, yawning void. Before you can react, the ground beneath you vanishes, and you plummet into the vast nothingness, the weightless sensation sending your stomach into your throat. You try to scream, but no sound escapes. Darkness swallows you whole.

You’re late.

You slept in.

Late for your first day of work at the Elliott’s.

How is this possible??

You throw the covers off and scramble out of bed, heart pounding as you yank on your clothes in a panic. Of all the ways to start this job, this is the worst. You barely have time to double-check yourself in the mirror before bolting out of your small basement room and up the stairs—

SMACK.

You collide with someone and nearly fall over, barely managing to steady yourself as they hit the ground.

A maid drone.

“Oh, crap, I’m so sorry—!” You quickly reach down and help her up, eyes wide with guilt. “I wasn’t looking where I was going, I—”

She dusts herself off, looking a little flustered but otherwise fine. “Oh, um, no, it’s okay! I-I was actually coming to wake you up.”

Wait.

You blink at her, confusion momentarily replacing your panic.

“My shift starts in—” You check your watch, only for your stomach to drop as you realize your mistake.

You read the time wrong.

You aren’t late.

Your face burns with embarrassment as you run a hand through your hair, letting out a breathless laugh. “Oh. Wow. Uh, sorry about that. Guess I freaked out over nothing.”

The maid drone giggles softly, her posture still a little stiff. “It’s alright. I was kind of worried you’d sleep through your alarm. I was the first one you met yesterday, remember? My name’s V.”

V.

You pause.

Something about that name stirs something deep in your mind, like an old song you can’t quite remember the lyrics to. It lingers on the tip of your tongue, just out of reach.

But then V smiles at you—timid, polite, a little awkward.

And the strange feeling slips away.

You smile at her. “That’s really considerate of you, especially since we only just met.”

V’s posture stiffens slightly, her eyes flickering as she glances away. “Oh, um… it’s not a big deal or anything.” She fidgets, adjusting her maid uniform. “I mean, if you’re late, it affects the rest of us, too. It’s just in our best interest to check up on each other.”

You chuckle. “Still, I appreciate it. Really.”

Her gaze flickers back to you, uncertainty melting into something softer. “...Well, you’re welcome, then.”

You nod, adjusting your clothes. “I’m looking forward to working with you and everyone else.”

V’s lips twitch into a small smile. “I’d be happy to show you around, introduce you to the others.”

“That’d be great.”

She gestures for you to follow, and you take a step forward—

—but the world around you begins to melt.

Colors blur, shapes distort, the floor beneath your feet ceases to exist.

You don’t even have time to react before the memory crumbles away entirely.

You walk over and take the clipboard from V, scanning the list. It was surprisingly thorough—she’d noted everything from loose doorknobs to fading paint along the baseboards.

You smile at her, “I really appreciate your help with all of this, V. I don’t think I could get through it without you.”

She stiffens, her fingers twitching as she looks away. “I-it’s no problem, I don’t mind. Really.”

You chuckle and, on impulse, pat her head.

Error: Unexpected Affection Detected.

You show V how to make pancakes, guiding her as she stirs the batter. She nods eagerly, then accidentally mixes too fast—sending batter flying across the kitchen. Some splatters onto both of you. There’s a moment of stunned silence before you burst out laughing, V quickly following suit.

“Not too fast,” you place your hand lightly over hers to help steady her grip. “You don’t want to splash it everywhere.”

She freezes at the contact for a moment, her optics brightening slightly, but she doesn’t pull away. “Got it,” she murmurs.

The two of you sit side by side in front of a large window, gazing out at the endless night sky. The soft ambience of the mansion fills the silence, the glow of the stars reflecting in her optics. Your shoulders brush, and static electricity crackles between you.

“The moon is beautiful, isn’t it?” you murmur.

V glances at you, her expression unreadable—until a faint blush dusts her face.

“It is,” she says softly.

You lie in bed, your fingers intertwined with V’s as she reads to you. Her voice is steady, soothing, filling the quiet room with a warmth you can’t quite describe. The world outside doesn’t matter. Here, in this moment, you feel safe.

Warmth pools in your chest, unfamiliar yet comforting. Is this… love?

And then, just like everything else, these memories fade away.

You open your eyes as pain wracks your body. Agony is all you can fathom. Your gaze darts around the room, but you can’t move. You’re strapped to some kind of table, hooked up to a mess of wires and devices. The room around you is dimly lit, a run-down laboratory, cold and unfamiliar. You can’t even begin to question where you are—the pain is overwhelming, searing through every nerve like fire. It’s worse than anything you’ve ever experienced.

You force yourself to look down, instantly regretting it. A gaping wound mars your chest, torn open where that eldritch beast’s tendril had impaled you. The sight alone makes your head spin. How are you still alive? No—why are you still alive? Every attempted breath sends agony lancing through what remains of your ribs, and you open your mouth to scream, but nothing comes out.

Then, the door creaks open.

Your stomach drops as Cyn steps inside. She’s in her worker drone form, as if mocking you with her small, unassuming frame—like she hadn’t just torn your world apart. She tilts her head, smiling as she watches you struggle. “Cordial greeting. I see you are awake. Perhaps human medical technology isn’t useless after all.”

Something shifts behind her. Your eyes widen in horror as a slick, black tendril slithers from her back, lazily extending toward a console beside you. It presses a few buttons with unsettling precision, making the monitors flicker. Another tendril whips off to the side, dragging a gurney into view, carrying a powered-off worker drone, its lifeless body still on the cold metal cart.

Wires snake out from the machinery beside you, latching onto the drone like some grotesque experiment. You can only watch in silent agony, unable to move, unable to voice the fear clawing at your throat. Cyn steps closer, her neon-yellow optics gleaming with sick delight as one of her tendrils picks up a thick cable. At the end of it is a long, wickedly sharp needle.

She holds it up, almost playfully, before leaning in.

“Hold still. I do believe this has never been attempted, until now. Giggle.”

You try to resist, but some unseen force clamps down on you, stopping even the slightest movement of your head. Your body betrays you, locked in place as panic claws at your mind. You can only watch, helpless, as the tendril moves the needle behind your skull—out of sight, but not out of mind.

Cyn tilts her head, watching you with amusement. “Don’t worry. I am not finished with you. And you won’t remember any of this. Well, hopefully.” She lets out a small giggle, her gaze gleaming like a predator playing with its food. “Human minds are so much more fickle than drones.”

You barely have time to process her words before searing agony erupts through your skull. The needle drives deep, and a sensation like a lightning strike surges through your entire body. Every nerve ignites, every fiber of your being screams in protest as darkness swallows your vision. But the nightmare doesn’t end there.

Because while you may no longer see, you can still feel.

Pain unlike anything imaginable overtakes you as something indescribable is wrenched from your very core. Your mind—your self—is being torn away from the brain that has been yours since the moment you came into existence. You are being ripped from your own body. Thought ceases, coherence shatters, and all that remains is raw, unbearable agony.

And then, just as suddenly as it began—everything stops.

ADMINISTRATOR LOCKOUT: SUCCESSFULBEGINNING DISK CLEANUP||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||__ 94%

Uzi’s fingers fly across the keyboard, desperation fueling her rapid inputs as she fights against the process. Lines of code blur together as she forces command after command, trying anything to halt the inevitable. But the counter ticks up to 95%, unfazed by her efforts.

V’s patience shatters. She steps forward, optics burning with frustration. “That’s it. Send me in. Like you did with us.”

Uzi doesn’t even look up, still typing. “That’s a terrible idea.”

“I don’t care.”

“If you’re still inside when the process finishes, you’ll be erased too.” Uzi’s voice is sharp, but there’s a flicker of hesitation beneath it. “And as great as that might be,” she adds with biting sarcasm, “something tells me N won’t like that.”

V’s claws shoot out in a blur, stopping just short of Uzi’s throat. Her optics bore into the worker drone’s, raw with something Uzi doesn’t expect—desperation. “Let me try.”

For once, Uzi is speechless. She stares at V, weighing the risk, the sheer insanity of what she’s about to allow.

She exhales sharply and yanks a cable from the terminal, holding it out. “Fine. Plug yourself in.”

You sit in the void of your memories, a vast and endless darkness stretching infinitely around you. Faint echoes of experiences drift at the edges of your perception—things you know you've lived through, but they remain just out of reach, impossible to grasp. It’s all slipping away, unraveling like loose threads in a tapestry you can’t seem to hold together.

You blink, text appearing in your field of view once again:

 A-S Backup Process Enabled.

Purging Incriminating Data

:)

A soft giggle cuts through the silence.

Cyn stands before you, a cruel smile curling her lips as she takes in your broken state. You stare up at her, defeated. There’s nothing left to fight for. Nothing left at all.

She snaps her fingers.

V appears beside her—tall, imposing, her claws gleaming under an unseen light. Her fanged grin is sharp and cold, lacking any warmth.

“A shame my experiment failed,” Cyn muses, tilting her head. “You were quite intriguing to watch.”

V’s claws extend with a metallic shink, her optics narrowing as she sizes you up.

Cyn continues, her voice chillingly indifferent. “I pitied V enough to give you a chance, to be a tool for me just like her, but it’s clear you belong with everyone else—as part of me, the Solver of the Absolute Fabric.”

V lunges.

Her claws clamp around your throat, pinning you to the ground as she looms over you, fangs bared. You don’t fight. You don’t struggle. You don’t even flinch. You’re done.

But then—

V hesitates.

The pressure around your neck loosens. Instead of tearing into you, she lets go, pulling you back to your feet. Her claws retract as she gazes into your eyes, something unreadable flickering across her face.

“As fun as it would be to kill you,” she drawls, smirking, “I think that’d be rather anticlimactic, don’t you think?”

You blink. Confusion stirs in the emptiness of your mind. “What…? Why aren’t you—”

V groans, rubbing her temple. “You’ll get it in a minute.”

Without warning, she raises her arm, her hand shifting into a gun. She fires.

Cyn shatters in a burst of pixels.

Before you can even react, V grabs you by the shoulders, her expression urgent. “Listen to me—you need to snap out of it.”

You stare at her, the weight of her words not quite sinking in.

“You’re inside your own head,” she presses on. “Cyn’s rewriting you. She’s trying to make you forget everything.”

You try to respond, to ask her what she means, but she shakes her head. “No time for that.” Her grip tightens. “You have to remember. Remember me. Remember Uzi. Remember what’s happening in the real world!”

The void trembles. Cracks split through the darkness, revealing blinding white light beneath. The world around you begins to shatter, pixel by pixel.

V’s optics widen in alarm. “No, no, no—stay with me!”

Panicked, she grabs you by the arms and yanks you into a hug, holding you tight. “Come on,” she pleads, her voice almost breaking. “You have to remember—”

The pixels overtake you both.

V gasps as she is suddenly yanked from the simulation, the world around her dissolving into nothing. She flips around, fury already building in her chest—only to see N standing there, holding the cable that had connected her.

Her optics widen in horror. “What did you do?” she screams, her voice raw with disbelief.

She spins back toward Techie, still slumped in their chair, their optics flickering with a new message.

ADMINISTRATOR LOCKOUT: SUCCESSFULDISK CLEANUP COMPLETE||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||| 100%

The silence that follows is suffocating.

Uzi stares at the screen, then at Techie’s motionless form. Her shoulders tremble, her expression caught between disbelief and devastation. She  failed.

N shifts, gripping the cable tightly as if he can somehow undo what he just did. “V, I—I couldn’t let you get erased too,” he stammers, barely above a whisper. “Losing both of you would just be… too much.”

V barely hears him. She is already at Techie’s side, dropping to her knees as the weight of it all crashes down. Her fingers dig into their arms as she shakes them, harder and harder, desperation creeping into her voice. “I can’t do this,” she chokes out. “Not again. Not again!”

And then, Techie’s system reboots.

Their optics flicker, the dull glow returning as their head tilts slightly.

“Hello,” they say, their voice eerily neutral. “Are you my new coworkers?”

Silence.

Uzi and N don’t move. V can only stare.

Because she knows. They all know.

Techie is gone. Completely erased.

V sits back, her arms falling limply to her sides as she gazes at the drone before her—not them, just an empty shell, stripped of everything that made them Techie. All that remains is the default programming of a Worker Drone.

How ironic.

All the destruction she has wrought, all the pain she has caused—and this is how the universe chooses to punish her. Not with fire, not with death, but with loss. Loss of something she only just got back.

N had forgotten his past. But she never had. She remembered everything. She knows exactly what she has done. And yet…

Here she is.

With a slow, weary exhale, she rises to her feet.

She takes one last look at the drone sitting before her, their optics scanning the room in vague curiosity.

What’s the point in fighting anymore? Cyn will win. She always wins.

She reaches out, her hand trembling as she places it against their cheek. A tiny crackle of static sparks between them.

The moment their metal touches, Techie’s visor glitches, their entire body shuddering violently.

V steps back in shock as the drone collapses, crashing to the floor in a twitching heap.

Even in her last act of comfort, she’s managed to kill something. How tragically ironic.

Your optics flutter open as your systems jolt back to life, rebooting in a rush of energy. The world around you sharpens into focus, bright and overwhelming, as everything comes flooding back at once. It’s disorienting—the sheer weight of your memories crashing over you like a tidal wave. You try to sit up, your joints stiff and unresponsive at first, but you push through the discomfort. Blinking rapidly, you take in your surroundings.

Uzi and N are standing in front of you, their expressions twisted in confusion, eyes locked onto you as if they’re unsure whether to believe what they’re seeing. You glance past them, spotting V in the corner of the room. She isn’t looking at you. Instead, she stares off into space, her posture stiff, her face unreadable. 

You turn back to Uzi, your voice hoarse and unsteady as you manage to speak. “Uzi? What… what the hell did you do to me?”

The reaction is immediate. Uzi’s eyes go wide, her whole body tensing. She sucks in a sharp breath, realization dawning in an instant—you remember her. Her shock is evident, but before she can respond, something else happens.

V moves.

Before you can react, she is suddenly in front of you, grabbing you by the shoulders and lifting you off the ground. The intensity in her yellow optics burns into you as she stares, searching your face with a desperate kind of urgency. “Techie?!” Her voice is sharp, demanding, almost frantic. She scans your expression as if looking for a glitch, for some kind of mistake.

Your body tenses at the sudden force, and you struggle slightly in her grip, groaning in protest. “Yes! It’s me! Please put me down.”

For once, she listens. She sets you down on your feet, a significant improvement over her usual habit of just dropping you. Your legs feel unsteady, but you manage to stay upright, adjusting to the sensation of simply being again.

V wastes no time. “Do you remember everything?” she asks, and something in her tone makes your systems freeze for a second.

Everything.

The word echoes in your mind, and suddenly, it all hits.

Your life—your entire life—rushes back to you in an instant, slamming into your consciousness with the force of a collapsing building. It’s overwhelming, the sheer amount of it, so much that it feels like your head might split open from the sheer pressure. Your time as a drone, your time as a human, all of it returns in a flood, every emotion, every experience, every loss, every joy. The weight of an entire existence, something you hadn’t even fathomed regaining, comes crashing down with relentless intensity.

You stagger slightly, your fingers twitching as you try to process the sudden influx of knowledge. It’s too much all at once, the past and present colliding in a way that makes your head spin. Every moment, every decision, every version of yourself that you thought was lost—it’s all here. You’re here.

And you have no idea what to do with it.

Your voice catches in your throat, your entire system struggling to process the sheer weight of what’s just returned to you. You force out a breath, trying to steady yourself, but even that feels like too much. "I... I remember..." The words are shaky, barely more than a whisper. "I remember everything..."

Your optics flicker slightly as a name slips from your mouth. "Cyn..."

At that, Uzi's entire posture shifts. Her expression tightens, and a look of realization flashes across her face. It’s like she had momentarily forgotten why any of this was happening—why they had gone through all of this in the first place. But now, with that single name spoken aloud, it all comes rushing back.

"Nope," Uzi says, cutting off whatever breakdown you’re about to have. "We’re putting the 'my entire life is a lie' crisis on hold. We need to leave. Now."

You barely have time to react before a glow ignites around her hand. That same energy surges outward, wrapping around you before you can so much as blink. The room distorts, reality twisting and folding in on itself, the world around you shattering like a fractured mirror. The force nearly knocks you off your feet as everything warps.

Then—nothing.

Except cold.

Your optics adjust to the sudden change in lighting, and you realize you’re no longer inside. The facility, the walls, the floor—all of it is gone. Instead, you're standing outside, the frozen wasteland of Copper-9 stretching out in every direction. Ice crunches beneath your feet, the wind biting against your frame. The brutal cold is nothing new, but the suddenness of it leaves you reeling.

You barely have time to process what just happened before you see them.

Standing in front of you, unmistakable even through the swirling snow, is Doll. Next to her is J—her arms crossed, her expression unreadable. And beside them...

A woman.

You don’t recognize her. She’s clad in a space suit, her helmet obscuring most of her features, but there’s no doubt about it, she’s human.

Your mind races, trying to grasp onto something—anything—that could make sense of this. Your eyes dart to the nametag on her chest.

Tessa.

What the actual hell is happening?

[pommedepersephone]

"Nye" was amazing. Michael Sheen was a force of nature. The rest of the cast was phenomenal. The staging was powerful, with a minimal set of hospital props that were rearranged to create his memoryscapes. And for a person who sat at her father's bed as he passed from this world, the show's message of the importance of ensuring human dignity was a main concern in healthcare hit me right in the heart. Overall, what an absolute joy.

Sadly we didn't get to meet Michael post show because, well, he had more important things to do. Anna, David and Georgia were all on the audience and who are we to keep them apart post show??

[myddle]

Aight, time to go off about Murder Drones

Okay so Episode 6 dropped a little bit ago so I'm just gonna share my thoughts on where the show might be going in some regards

Warning: Big Post, Spoilers, Opinions

Okay, first up: "Effective drones were cloned more."

While framed like a throwaway line, this has important implications. It's interesting that J doesn't seem disturbed by this fact; she's presumably the original J since she's with Tessa and remembers her. N and V (maybe?) didn't fully remember their past until "Home", and since they were with another J, they're probably not the originals. But does Tessa know this? Does she think they're the originals because they remember her? Or does she know they're clones, and is just using their memory of her to get what she wants? Either way, I don't see this little alliance lasting.

Second: Cyn/Solver's Voice

Was the GLaDOS-ass voice originally Cyn's, or the Solver's? Uzi talks in it when she's possessed, as does eldritch J in "Heartbeat", which implies it's the Solver's, but Past N acts like it's normal when he's talking to Cyn in "Home", which implies it's Cyn's. Did Cyn have a different voice before she turned, or did the Solver take her voice due to not having one of it's own? Are Cyn and the Solver one or two entities? I got nothing.

Thirdly: How Everything Is Fucked, Actually

If you thought V's sacrifice was tragic, ponder me this: How the hell is the gang even gonna get out of there? V just destroyed the elevator out, and even if she didn't, it's swarming with Walking Dinos/Dino Walk Cycles. Between being trapped in the Labs, down a fighter, N being traumatised, Uzi getting possessed, the black box of Tessa's motivations, Doll being totally fine with leaving their asses to die, and whatever the fuck else is down there, things look bleak. The only thing I can personally see being the key to survival is...

Finally: Uzi's Administrator Status

At the end of "Home", Uzi replaced Cyn as the administrator of N and V, seemingly purging their minds of the Solver's influence. This, to me, means two things.

The Solver can't control N and V anymore - I definitely think this will come up; Something like Solver Uzi beckoning N to obey, and getting hit with the "[ACCESS DENIED]", maybe with a funny Windows error sound or something.

Uzi can do Administrator ThingsTM - Uzi is smart, and knows her way around drone programming, enough to enter someone's memoryscape and POSSESS a motherfucker. Cyn was N and V's original Admin, and the Solver has done both of these things too.

Uzi has the potential to be Cyn's equal, and with whatever equipment there is in the Labs, I reckon she'll be able to brainhack her way into turning the tables on the Solver. Hell, as V's Administrator, she might even be able to recover her conciousness remotely, or something.

I don't know what's going to happen, but I hope I'm right, because the key to victory being Uzi's own hyperfixation, rather than the powers she inherited, would make for a great character arc.

Image source: Murder Drones Fandom Wiki

[dialalagirl]

Lunar Bloom- Vampire Ending (a fanmade DL Subaru Route)

[SCENE: MEMORYSCAPE-DUSK. ST. THEA’S GARDEN, YEARS AGO]

[Blackness. Then: the sound of shallow, erratic breathing. Childlike.]

______The sky curled like coarse wool, 

The roses white as old hair. 

I pulled one up by its roots, 

Was scolded by the thorny leaves, 

And whispered sorry before I bled.

[A small Lu, barefoot and dirt-streaked, kneels at an overgrown hedge. She tugs petals from a white rose. A thorn catches her thumb.]

______I sensed him before I saw him: 

A boy with fists like stone 

And eyes too hollow for dusk.

[Behind the hedge, a pale boy curls into himself. A bruise shadows one eye. Subaru, years younger, half-buried in roots and dirt.]

Lu (past)- Hello,

Subaru (past)- [*rough, raw*] Go away. Find another thing to rip apart.

______I hummed like the garden, 

Pulled on his wrist. 

I said I wanted to know 

Why roses had learned to speak.

Lu (past)- [*grinning*] You’re hiding in dirt. 

Lu (past)- Why? Do you grow here too?

Subaru (past)- [*low, bitter*] Idiot. I’m filthy. Don’t touch me.

______I laughed. 

Didn’t understand, 

Rubbed dirt from his forehead with my thumb. 

I said, there. Clean.

Lu (past)- Then I’ll make you not filthy. 

Lu (past)- See? There.

[She gently touches his forehead. Her thumb leaves a streak of clean skin over grime. He looks stunned.]

______His free hand rubbed the shine

Away from his cheeks.

He reminded himself more than me

To stop, he’s dirty,

But didn’t shy away from my curious fingers

Or my words that he isn’t filthy to me.

[The light of the garden dims. The boy doesn’t vanish. He just breathes.]

[SCENE TRANSITION: PRESENT-???]

[Black stone. Wet iron. A rusted crucifix inverted on the wall. Lu is chained at the wrists. Her skin blooms with phantom bruises. Every breath rattles like a prayer denied.]

[Hallucinations gather like rot in the corners: Sister Agatha’s voice. Her father’s boots. Lashes that no longer fall but still cut.]

Lu- [*barely conscious*] I’m not yours…

Lu- I’m not… I’m not hers. I’m Subaru’s. 

Lu- He’s the only thing I never surrendered. Not to you. Not to her.

[A shadow drapes the chamber: her father’s memory, soaked in vestments, rosary wound tight around his fist.]

Akihiro Nohikari- [*mocking *] You still dream of that vampire?

Akihiro Nohikari- That thing made of ash and hunger? A curse you mistook for salvation?

Lu- You can’t reach him. He’s mine.

Akihiro Nohikari- Then I’ll scour him from your soul.

[He raises the whip, strikes.]

[He raises the whip. Strikes. Again. Again. Lu doesn't flinch. Her body stays, but she’s already gone—retreating inward. To the garden. To blood-slick hands cradling her like absolution.]

Lu-  [*murmuring *] Subaru… Subaru…

[A pulse—then the door is torn from its hinges. Cold air screams through the dark. Subaru stands in the threshold: white like snow, coat drenched crimson. Rage carves his face in silver and shadow.]

Subaru- [*snarling *] Get your fucking hands off her.

Akihiro Nohikari- [*voice warped, rotted with sanctimony*] She’s mine, vampire. She was given to the Church.

Subaru- [*low, deadly *] Then I’ll return her to hell—without you.

[They clash. Steel and nightmare. Her father contorts—part priest, part beast, part every scar she buried beneath her ribs. Subaru moves like retribution—each strike an answer to a prayer never heard. 

[Final blow: the stake pierces through. Salt and black vapor scatter like spent guilt.]

[Lu breathes. Once. Shallow. Then coughs—blood. His blood.]

Lu- [*whispers *] You… really came…

[He breaks her chains. She collapses into him. He holds her like something sacred—and dying..]

Lu- You’re not real. You wouldn’t—

[His voice is quieter than rage.]

Subaru- You think this place scares me more than losing you?

Lu- [*shaking*] Don’t. Please. You’re just... a thought. Guilt in my mouth.

Lu- [*whispers*] I couldn’t bring you with me. Not here.

Lu- I’d rather vanish alone than let you rot because of me.

[Subaru’s jaw tightens. His silence is a scream with teeth.]

Subaru- You don’t get to choose that anymore. Not when it’s me.

[The walls frost over. Not from magic—memory. The way his rage makes rooms freeze.]

Subaru- You said I saw you.

Subaru- So why am I just another thing you think you have to protect from yourself?

Lu- [*tears forming*] I didn’t mean it like that—

Subaru- Then why the fuck do I keep finding you like this?

[His hand hovers, trembling. Torn between anger and tenderness.]

Subaru- Look at me. I’m here. I always fucking come when it’s you.

[She sobs. He finally reaches—touches her cheek. Thumb wipes blood from beneath her eye like a broken blessing.]

Subaru- If you die, I’ll follow. 

Subaru- But I won’t forgive you.

Lu- I know. 

Lu- I wouldn’t either.

[Their eyes lock. Her vision swims. But he’s still there—anchor, weight, vow.]

Subaru- Get up, Lu. 

Subaru- You’re not done hurting me yet.

[MONTAGE – SEASONS TURN – TIME BREAKS.]

[Memories flicker like burnt film. The world stutters: tick—tick—tick.]

________[1-Devotions in the Mirror]: 

[Lu sits before a broken mirror. A line of silver cracks splits her reflection in two. Subaru stands behind her. A comb in one hand. His other rests—hesitates—on her shoulder.]

[He begins to brush. Careful. Too careful. The motion awkward in his large, calloused hands.]

[Her hair catches. She flinches.]

[He stops. Tense. Doesn’t apologize. Doesn’t speak.]

Lu- [*softly, without looking at him*] It’s not you.

Lu- [*voice thinner now *] He used to pull it when I cried. Said vanity breeds sin.

[Subaru’s grip tightens on the comb. Not her. The comb. His eyes don’t leave the mirror, but his jaw clenches like it’s chewing through memory.]

Subaru- [*quietly*] Then why let me touch it?

Lu- Because you don’t punish softness.

[A long silence. Her eyes meet his in the broken glass—shards catching slivers of them both. Two halves trying to line up.]

[She gives a small nod. Permission.]

[He brushes again. Slower. As if each strand is apology. She winces once more but doesn’t pull away this time.]

Lu- [*barely above a breath*] He said I’d never belong to anyone but the Church.

Lu- That my body was a lock, and only God held the key.

[Subaru exhales—short, sharp, nearly a growl. But he doesn’t interrupt. Doesn’t offer comfort. He just keeps combing, like he’s untangling more than hair.]

Subaru- [*after a pause*] He was wrong.

Lu- I know. But some locks remember the shape of old keys.

[A soft sound from him—pain or agreement or both. The comb slips free of a final knot. Her hair falls smooth, shining like dusk against his fingers.]

________[2-Litany of Hunger]: 

[The bed creaks. Subaru leans back against the headboard, boots still on, coat shrugged halfway down his shoulders. The room is dim, cold. Still.]

[Lu straddles him, trembling. Her hands clutch his shirt like it might vanish. She stares at his throat like it’s a sin.]

Lu- [*voice hollow *] I can’t.

Subaru- [*flatly*] You can.

[She flinches.]

Lu- You don’t know what it’ll do to you.

Subaru- [*dark snort*] I’m not human. I don’t break that easy.

Lu- [*shakes head*] That’s not what I mean. It’s not… pain I’m scared of.

[She shifts in his lap. Heat coils in her stomach—fear, craving, shame. Not desire. Not exactly. But close enough to burn.]

Lu- [This isn’t how it’s supposed to feel.]

Lu- [Not reverent. Not holy.]

Lu- [Just skin and heat and breath. I want him. I want to be inside him. I want to be seen.]

Lu- [That’s worse than thirst.]

Lu- I was made to rot everything I touch.

Lu- He said it with the whip in his hand. That the mouth was a weapon. That thirst made me filthy.

Lu- That anything I touched would spoil.

Lu- Even God. Even love.

Lu- I don’t want to leave pieces of me inside you.

[Subaru finally looks at her—sharp, cold, unreadable.]

[He drags his collar down. Exposes his throat. The pulse there is slow. Unbothered.]

Subaru- It’s already too late for that.

[Her fangs throb. She turns away, ashamed.]

Subaru- You think I wouldn’t survive a little more of your bullshit?

Lu- That’s not what this is.

Subaru- [*low*] Then bite.

[She inches closer. The air pulls tight between them.]

Lu- [This is the part where I ruin him. This is where the stain spreads.]

Lu- [He should push me off. Lock the door. Burn me out.]

Lu- [Instead, he just watches—like he wants me to do it.]

Subaru- [*rough, almost bored*] What are you waiting for?

Lu- [*barely audible *] Permission.

[Something flickers in his expression. Not surprise. Something darker.]

Subaru- Then take it.

[She leans in. Her hands tremble where they press against his chest.]

Lu- [He doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t pull away.]

Lu- [He lets me be awful. He lets me be hungry.]

[Her lips brush skin. Then—fangs, slow and gentle. Like an apology that’s already too late.]

[Subaru’s hand curls, gripping the sheet. Her eyes flutter shut.]

Lu- [He tastes like the opposite of church—no incense, no guilt.]

Lu- [Just iron. Heat. Want.]

Subaru- [*gritted*] Tch. You’re too careful.

[She bites deeper. He groans—low, unguarded. Half-pain. Half… something else.]

[When she pulls back, blood stains her mouth. She looks wrecked.]

Lu- [*whispers*] I’m sorry.

Subaru- [*exhale, sharp*] Tch. Don’t.

[She blinks at him. He wipes her mouth with his thumb, rough but steady.]

Subaru- I said take. Not beg.

[His voice is raw. His breathing’s uneven. She breathes. Still trembling in his lap.]

Lu- [*whispers*] You liked it?

Subaru- [*shrugs, blunt*] So?

[His eyes drift—to her lips, her breath, the wound she left.]

Subaru- I like when you need me

[She stares at him. Breathless. Her forehead sinks to his shoulder, hands curled at his chest. Shaking. He lets her.]

________[3-Salt the Wound]

[Blankets snarled. The fan drones. Moonlight lays a sharp square on the floor.]

[She jerks.]

[First, it's small—fingers curling, breath skipping. Then—] 

[A scream, flayed and guttural. Her body bows like something nailed down.] 

[Subaru catches her before her skull cracks the headboard.] 

[His hand clamps her wrists. The other pins her sternum like a stake.]

Lu- [*asleep, choked*] Stop—please—I said no—

[Her knees jackknife to her chest. One heel thuds against the mattress.] 

[She’s already clawing at her arms when he seizes her wrists again.] 

Subaru- Lu.

[She doesn’t hear him. Her head twists, teeth gnashing at her own shoulder.]

Lu- [*gasping*] Not my fault not my fault not my—

[Her nails rake his coat. Tear skin. Blood wells. He doesn’t pull away.] 

[She thrashes. Legs flailing. Shirt twisted to her ribs.]

[He doesn’t speak, just holds her. Not tender. Not cruel. Unmoving.] 

[She chokes on air. Eyes clenched shut.]

Lu- He said I was made for this—said I took it too well—

[Subaru’s jaw clicks. A pulse in his temple.] 

[Her voice slurs, breaks.] 

Lu- Even God stopped watching.

[Silence. She shakes. He leans close, breath touching her ear.]

Subaru- Wake up.

[She flinches hard. Her eyes snap open. Sweat-soaked. Chest heaving.]

[His grip still clamps her wrists. She stares. Doesn’t speak. Doesn’t move.]

[Then he lets go—one wrist only. Keeps the other. She looks down. Red marks bloom like bindings.] 

Lu- [Still too easy to bruise. Still too easy to break.]

[No tears. Just breath. Thin as thread.]

Lu- You should hate me.

[His voice is low. Bare.]

Subaru- I don’t.

Lu- You should’ve let me stay gone.

[Now he looks at her. Fully.]

Subaru- I didn’t want to.

[She exhales. It snags. She leans in. Forehead to his collarbone.] 

[He doesn’t move. His hand finds her back. Still.]

Lu- [He doesn’t tell me it’s okay.]

Lu- [He doesn’t lie. He just stays.]

[She closes her eyes.]

Lu- [That’s worse. Worse than rage. Worse than mercy.]

Lu- [Because I want him to go. Just to prove I deserve it.]

[His breath stirs her hair.]

Subaru- You don’t get to run.

[She pulls back. Just enough to see his face. Still. But something glints in his eyes.]

Subaru- You’re mine.

Subaru- You don't get to vanish on me again.

[She swallows. Nods. Still shaking.] 

[He pulls her in. This time, she lets him.] 

[Outside, the wind turns. Inside, neither of them sleeps.]

________[4-Grave Mercy]: 

[A coffin. Dust-filmed. Half-shut.]

[Inside—he’s curled tight. Breath shallow. Hands fisted like he’s bracing for a blow.]

[She finds him like that. Silent. Still. As if buried.]

[She doesn’t knock. She climbs in.]

[The wood creaks. The dark closes like a lid.]

[His eyes snap open—red, wild. One hand jerks upward, fangs bared—]

Subaru- [*low*] Don’t—

[Then he sees her. His breath breaks once. Harsh. He turns his face to the wall.]

Subaru- Get out.

[She doesn’t.]

[The space is tight. Pressed with dust, silence, heatless breath. She doesn’t touch him.]

Lu- You held me when I was breaking.

Lu- Let me hold you.

[He exhales—sharp, unwilling. Like it hurts.]

[She reaches for his hand. He lets her. Doesn’t look.]

Lu- [*soft*] You said I wasn’t filth.

Lu- Neither are you.

[He stiffens. Then—goes quiet in the way a wound does. She doesn’t take it back.]

[She shifts. Turns him. Careful. Slow.]

[Only then does he meet her eyes. Not fury. Not shame. Just raw, unguarded hesitation.]

[She leans in. Presses her mouth to his jaw. Then to his lips. Not demanding. Not coaxing. Just… waiting.]

[He doesn’t kiss back. But he doesn’t stop her.] 

[Her hand slips into his. She brings it to her ribs. Lets him feel the steady rhythm of her body. The chill beneath.]

Lu- [*barely audible*] If I trust you… don’t run.

[She guides his hand lower. Not fast. Not coy.]

Subaru- You don’t have to—

Lu- I want to.

[She kisses him once more. Deeper. Slower. And when she gives herself to him—fully, willingly—]

[He takes her like a man crawling out of a grave. Not with hunger. But reverence. Guilt. Need.]

[As if afraid she’ll vanish mid-breath.]

[She doesn’t.]

________[5-The Stillness After]:

[The sky bleeds pale gray. Dawn seeps through the cracked window. Lu stands facing the light, breath misting the glass. Behind her, Subaru leans in the doorway, arms folded tight—like he’s bracing for something. Watching. Waiting.]

Lu- …I wasn’t trying to be noble. I just didn’t want you to see me like that… the girl in the cell.

Subaru- I did. And I still came.

[Her hands clench, then loosen.]

Lu- So… what now?

Subaru- Now you live with it. 

Subaru- With me.

[Her gaze drops to the floor.]

Lu- Why would you stay?

[He steps forward, voice quieter.]

Subaru- [*quiet, arms folding *] Because I remember the first time you touched me. In the garden.

Subaru- You didn’t hesitate. I was filthy, half-broken, and you just… said, “There. Clean.”

[Subaru’s jaw tightens—maybe a ghost of a smile.]

Subaru- You looked at me like I was worth saving.

Lu- And now I’m the one rotting.

[He steps closer, voice low, steady.]

Subaru- Then I’ll rot with you.

Lu- That’s not romantic.

Subaru- I’m not trying to be. 

[She finally meets his eyes, tired but steady.]

Lu- You still see the girl who pulled you from the hedge.

Subaru- No. I see the one who stayed after.

[Then—he reaches. Thumb brushes her cheek. She doesn’t pull away.]

Subaru- [*awkward, almost mumbling*] I love you.

Lu- [*jolted *] You don’t have to—

[Her heart pounds. She wants to run. To argue. But—]

Subaru- I’ll say it tomorrow. And again. 

Subaru- Until you believe it.

[Silence between them. She closes her eyes, exhales—a soft release.]

[Outside, dawn climbs slowly, relentless.]

__________I wasn’t saved. 

I was found—

In dirt, 

A garden left to rot.

He saw me—

Not broken beyond worth,

Just barely breathing.

And I saw him—

Scarred, silent,

A prayer lost in shadow.

He didn’t come to salvage me—

he came to stay.

So I stay with him,

Because I love him—

Rooted,

Lain together in ruined earth.

[ENDING: “ASHES IN EDEN” UNLOCKED]

[You have completed the MASOCHISTIC ROUTE.]

[POST-CREDIT SCENE — UNKNOWN TIME/LOCATION]

[An hourglass stands still. Black sand suspended mid-fall.]

Karlheinz- Love.

[He fingers the glass, watching the unmoving grains.

[A mirror reveals Lu and Subaru—entwined in sleep, limbs like tangled roots, thorns on the same rose.]

Karlheinz- Curious, isn’t it? Even ruin learns to cling.

[He closes a book bound in crimson leather. A sigil glows, then fades.]

Karlheinz- The girl lived. The vampire softened. 

Karlheinz- And I… claimed the wager.

[He blows out a single candle. Darkness answers.]

[synthient]

Some possibilities re the doctor who social media arg messages:

Rogue is sending messages to the Docor, in gallifreyan, even though he claimed to not know what gallifrey was.

Rogue is sending (presumably verbal) messages to the Doctor, and something (the tardis filter?) is automatically translating them into written gallifreyan.

Someone else - who either speaks gallifreyan or is getting auto translated - is trying to get a message to the Doctor, including an instruction to "keep your eyes peeled" that seems to be re Rogue. But the message-sender has reason to believe that the message isn't getting through.

Notably, if we assume that an auto translation thing is going on - and if the main auto translator we know of is the tardis (as was very prominently highlighted in both wild blue yonder & space babies) - then that implies that the tardis is getting these messages, but not passing them along. Leaving them to get subliminally scattered through the landscape? (memoryscape?)

[lyricalchrysanthemum]

A while after the failed body snatching attempt on Kris’s end, Lyra has a talk with Ethan on a bench sometime near midnight, on the last day of summer.

They catch up as usual, Ethan in particular concerned about Lyra’s wellbeing after nearly losing her body. And Lyra’s… fine. She’s not really shaken up about it as she should be.

She tells Ethan that. She’s not really mad at Kris. She gets it. She doesn’t know if she would be as angry as Kris if she was in her situation… but she felt really sympathetic towards her. She was only doing what she could to exist as a living, breathing person again.

She asks if it’s ok that she’s not mad at her. She knows she should be… but she really just can’t be. And Ethan says it is. He can’t really make that decision for her.

The more she thinks about it, people really do take life for granted.

She goes onto tell Ethan she’s kind of disappointed it didn’t succeed… in fact she’s kind of angry at Ethan for stopping it from happening. She wanted it. She thinks anyways. It’s not right for her to be here, just by simply existing she’s hurting someone.

It’s not like she was ever a notable person to begin with, constantly getting Ethan hurt simply through how much she gets into trouble. Since the day she lived she’s always been a thorn that hurts people, no matter how much she tries not to.

But Kris had it all, she saw her memoryscape too after all. She was smart, self confidant, could hold her own in anything. She’d be so much more… beneficial to the world. And Lyra took that away.

And, while tears well up in her eyes, she asks Ethan if it’s ok that she exists in the first place.

And Ethan tells her, yes. It’s more than ok. While she came to be from the universe’s accident, that didn’t make her less of a person. A person he and so many other people love unconditionally, his best friend. There shouldn’t be a justification for her existence. Whether the world likes it or not, she’s here.

It’s like she said, she was taking life for granted. Just like Kris, she exists. And if Kris existing comes at her hurting, than he doesn’t want that. Just like Lyra’s existence would come at the other hurting. Her life is just as meaningful as hers, and they’ll find a way to make it so they both can exist.

And as he says that, tears well up in Lyra’s eyes, and she falls into the arms of Ethan. Sobbing. Ethan can only hug her.

And as Ethan hugs her as he sobs, rocking her slowly, the clock strikes 00:00. And he mumbles into her ear, “Happy birthday, Lyra…“

All while this is happen, a certain girl is hiding in the darkness of cyberspace. Happy birthday, Kris.

[childlikegoblinqueen]

Chapter 72: I've been poking a voodoo doll that you do not know I made. For you, of you...

 “Ha! You really are pathetic.” They taunted with a light chuckle.  “That was too easy.” 

With the toe of their boot, the Guard kicked Hunter lightly in the side of his ribcage. His head wobbled as his forelock brushed over his forehead. 

The Guard gave one more smug snort as they raised their wrist and spoke into a what appeared to be some sort of communication charm…”  

“Success.” They hissed, “The target has been neutraliz –” 

“ Target? ” Camila’s voice squeaked. “Mijo. What was… was he?” 

“I-I don’t know, I don’t –”. Hunter closed his eyes trying to pull up any memories of this event. Willow’s hand rested on his back. He focused on the warm weight of it.

“WAIT WHAT?” Amity shrieked. She pointed into the Memoryscape.

[jmkartworks]

Patrick - Oil on canvas - 28 x 34 inches.

Of the six brothers, Patrick is the one who most loved fishing. We others did too, but not as whole-heartedly. Our childhood home was only two short blocks from the Fox River as it flowed from southern Wisconsin through northern Illinois to eventually merge with the Mississippi. In The Four Quartets, T. S. Eliot called that legendary river "a strong brown god, sullen, untamed, intractable." Pat and the brothers closest to him in age, Tim and I, would have agreed. From our own experiences with the Fox we would have added "dangerous" to the adjectives.

We three don't live in Illinois any more, let alone fish for bluegills and walleyed pike in the Fox. However, for Patrick life without fishing is unthinkable, unbearable. As you see in the painting, this river in Montana is not a sullen brown god. Dangerous? Yes, they all are. Pat, miles away from any cellphone reception, is fishing for trout -- brown, cutthroat and rainbow -- as he has fished here every September for more than twenty years. Two days ago, he invited me and Tim to join him. Too bad; I'll be in Spain. But Tim will fly to Montana.

Years ago I painted this image and shipped it to Pat. He politely returned it and asked that I correct a mistake. No problem, I repainted my error and sent the canvas back to him. So what was the mistake? Well, the image you see here is not the corrected version but the original, the one with the error. No one, not even Pat's fishing buddies saw it, but Tim noticed immediately: "Our brother casts with his right hand, not his left."

⁂

More posts on my website: JohnMichaelKeating.com

Other links: [this post on my website] [about my new book]

[a-vamp-and-a-half]

The sleeping Sia remains standing there, wispy, translucent, yet the longer the moment stretched the longer details became more apparent

Glaring details actually, her pjs no longer stained and ripped as Mark had seen them be, no blood or wound of any kind really visible at all. She wore plush slippers, ones they’d certainly never seen before, warm and comfortable and luxurious even, gifted to herself in this memoryscape

Her hair was a sleepy mess above rosy cheeks, ones that had filled up a bit, her frame no longer frail nor sickly. If anything, she’d gained weight exactly like her younger, mischievous double. And with her eyes closed, it was readily apparent this would’ve been exactly how Odette would’ve looked had xe reached adulthood

Right now Sia was a picture of health they might have forgotten in the long time it had been missing, standing there as if she’d been pulled out of a warm, comfy bed and fallen right back asleep while waiting for the reason why

The moment jars a little as a deep frown sets on her face, marring the sleepy expression, bringing in thoughts of doubt? Fear? Confusion-?

A sleepy finger raises up with a smile of realisation as they all hear a window shut in the dining room, before spying Odette running off in the yard with the entire stack of pancakes made as Sia laughs in her sleep, in her dreams, in what she was Seeing, fading away with her laughter lingering in the air

‘She was the distraction’

"But those are her birthday pancakes, why did she steal them?" Bim laugh-says.

[tepot]

Portrait of George Voronovsky, 1978-1982) by Gary Monroe (American, born 1951). Featured in George Voronovsky: Memoryscapes at the High Museum of Art.

[wartonno]

Veilwake drifts along the edge of dreaming and remembering—a dark ambient lofi track that captures the fragile threshold between presence and absence. Inspired by the concept of liminality and the haunting beauty of moments that almost never were, this piece invites you into the quiet between worlds.

Soft textures. Faint echoes. Shadows that breathe.

Perfect for late-night reflection, creative solitude, or disappearing into the stillness of thought. Let Veilwake accompany your inner wanderings.

📸 Visuals inspired by The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows and abandoned memoryscapes.

#Veilwake #WartonnoSound #DarkAmbientLofi #LiminalSpaces #AmbientDreamscape #LoFiForFocus #SoundtrackForSolitude #EmotionalSoundscapes #CinematicAmbient #ObscureSorrows #Hiraeth #DarkLofiMusic #AmbientForWriting #MysticalAtmosphere #UrbanFantasyVibes