#when I was younger I couldn’t understand how life was samara

[mossywizard]

Hi I would like my body to actually cry instead of being numb this sucks

Gunna talk about mess in the tags you don’t gotta read it I just aaaa

Kitty for sanity

[wellscanthemback]

MERWeek2018 Day 2: Pictures and Moments

Pairing: Female Shepard & Admiral David Anderson

Timeline: Mass Effect 3 [with Universe Alterations]

Notes: Day 2 for MERWeek2018: Mostly from Anderson’s POV. There is no way my Jane would not send him a vid-chat or bombard his Omni-tool with photos. Afterall, Anderson was always sending her embarrassing childhood photos and vids of herself during her venture against Saren back from when they lived together for a short period before briefly returning to the streets before she was old enough to join the Alliance.

--In my personal canon, [War Hero] Jane Shepard is Earth 'raised’  and is the younger twin of [Ruthless] John Shepard is Space ’raised’ as is their younger half-sister [Sole-Survivor] Cryda (cree-da) Shepard who was raised mostly as a Colonist though all were Spaceborn. Hannah Shepard is their Mother. Admiral Hackett is the Father of the twins (I’ll divulge that later).

-Jane is my canon Shepard.

He was exhausted. Earth was exhausted. How many had they saved compared to what was lost? The Reapers were overwhelming them faster than they could count the days.

He often wondered what would have happened if he had left Earth with the Commander. After their briefing before he decided to give her his Citadel apartment, after being kicked in the ass by Cerberus, she had gone downhill fast. He’d received a report from Joker or at least he thought it was Joker. Something was kicking him in the ass that said it wasn’t Joker’s report, though this one he had received faster than the speed of light, surprisingly fast considering their last was received two months after it was sent. His worst fears confirmed as he read Shepard’s mental health was deteriorating due to the amount of stress this war had put her under and according to a medical report attached she showing signs of deep depression and PTSD to the point it was affecting her physical and mental health more than ever.

“Admiral Anderson!” The shout of his name broke him out of his thoughts.  He looked up to see the young soldier entering the room.

 “What is it, lieutenant?” He called over and the man looked up.

 “A message from the citadel, sir!” He explained as he hovered his Omni-tool over to Anderson who received the message.

 It was always a relief to receive a message from familiars, or at least he hoped it was a familiar. “Who from?”

 “Commander Shepard I believe, Sir. It has attachments.” The young man explained with bright eyes. The same bright eyes heard from anyone who hears about Commander Shepard. Anderson felt his stomach do a kick and flip. As his eyes quickly snapped to his own Omni-tool.

 “Dammit, I hope she hasn’t gotten herself into trouble again.” He cursed quietly but loud enough for the Lieutenant to hear, he looked up, “If you ever meet the Commander, you’ll understand.”

 “Sir?” The poor man was confused now.

 “Remind me to tell you about her first reconnaissance mission.” He said playfully, chuckling t the memory. Then he cleared his throat, “Dismissed.”

 “Admiral.” The man saluted and left, though disappointed at the lack of information. As Anderson sat down and waited for complete silence in the room before opening up the vid and he was greeted by static. Shit! Dammit! Come on work!

 “Alright everyone, let me talk!” He chuckled as Shepard’s voice cut through the static and the picture appeared and he was greeted in surprise by Jane Shepard smiling happily, compared to her weary state on the Citadel Apartment complex over the vid-com, “Hey, Anderson. I hope you’re still kicking ass down there!”

 Joker’s voice cut through from the behind her, “hey, that’s my line!”

 “Your point?” came the Commander’s cocky reply.

 Joker grumbled something unintelligible as everyone laughed. A female voice reached his ears, “Jeff, behave.” It wasn’t a voice he recognised. Anderson could recognise the Quarian Tali’Zorrah and the Turian Garrus Vakarian. Kaidan and Joker were there, along with Steve Cortez and James Vega. Samantha Taylor, the Asari Dr Liara Tsoni, there was another Asari, an Asari Justicar, he recalled, Samara, was there as well.

Some were heard but out of earshot. “Just wanted to thank you again for the apartment, Joker suggested a party and luckily, so far, things haven’t gotten out of hand. Keeping Grunt and Wrex under control is simply the main task in not breaking anything.”

 There was another woman on the screen, Miranda Lawson, former Cerberus he believed he was told, another man with dark skin appeared beside her, Jacob Taylor, also former Cerberus. Both were grinning at Shepard. The heavily tattooed woman was Jack, she was working with Kahlee at the Grissom Academy was also smiling at her. He spied the two Krogan in the back, along with the mercenary, Zaeed Massani, whom Shepard told him about. There was a woman in the shadows, whom he didn’t recognise but guessed it was the thief he had heard about; the one who travelled with Shepard during her fight against the Collectors. Shepard was moving her Omni-tool around to capture everyone with her. Damn, Jane. I hope you’re not getting into too much trouble up there.

 “What was that, Liara?” Shepard called, “Is Javik alright?”

 “He’ll be fine, I just don’t think he can control his alcohol intake.” Was the Asari’s reply as an unidentified alien appeared with her on screen, what the hell is that? Shepard glanced back at the screen, “Oh, you haven’t been told about Javik, he’s a Prothean, a living Prothean.”

 “Yes, the last living Prothean.” He grumbled in the back and Anderson’s eyes widened, “You primitives always state the obvious.”

 “And our new friend and ally against the Reapers,” Shepard chuckled, making the Prothean stutter, “he’s okay once you get to know him.”

 She has a Prothean and two god damn Krogan in the apartment… dammit, Shepard! And you wonder why I worry?

 “Don’t worry, Admiral. We’ve got Shepard under control.” Kaidan said as though he could read Anderson’s mind and the colour of Shepard’s face began to clash with her hair.

 “Really, Kaidan?” she cursed, her face grew darker as Kaidan kissed her cheek. Anderson blinked, I’ll have a few words for you the next time we meet, Major, that I can guarantee you he thought darkly before blinking at an unintelligible shout from behind them and spun around, Shepard snapping “Joker, you can shut up too!”

 “Calm down, Shepard,” Garrus cut through, “We all know who really breaks things around here.”

 “Wow, Garrus. Thanks,” she muttered sarcastically, to which Anderson chuckled. Then another face appeared, dark hair and blue eyes, Jane gave him a look, “Don’t even start, Johnny.”

 John Shepard, her twin brother. The two may not look even remotely alike, well, save a couple of facial similarities and mannerisms. The two were twins. Jane, the Hero of the Skyllian Blitz and John, the Butcher of Torfan. Anderson couldn’t say he was surprised to see the two had reconciled after the whole Collector business. He wondered if the same could be said about Hannah Shepard and Admiral Hackett. John had held his hands up in self-defence. “I’m saying nothing, Janie.” Before looking at the cam, “Hey Anderson, Cryda told me to say hi the next we saw you!”

 “I can tell him myself, Johnny!” yelled the voice of the young woman in question as she appeared behind the twins, grinning and waving at the Camera, “Hey Admiral!”

 Cryda Shepard was their younger sister; half-sister. The girl spent most of her time being schooled on Mindoir as she preferred solid ground to Spacecraft before the place was attacked by mercs. The girl was lucky, she’s a Shepard and a spitting image of her older sister despite being ten years younger. They hang tight despite their different choices. Jane grew up on Earth, John luckily remained with his Mother in Space and Cryda preferred to be amongst the Colonists and was studying Colonism, three Shepards and all three were very different, how the hell were they all even related?

 Jane turned back to the cam’s face, “Wish you were here, Anderson. We have everyone here, except a select few who were unable to attend. Karin’s busy with work or so she says, and as for Ash, Mordin, Thane and Legion. I’m sure they’re watching down on us.” She went silent for a moment before shaking it off. “Hackett will be taking John and Cryda after this is over, I’m going to be needed at the front line.”

 “Are you ever going to call him 'Dad' , Janie,” John called from off-screen to which Jane rolled her eyes, and Kaidan glared at the off-screen man. Nope, still not going well. Jane had still blocked Hackett out of that part of her life.

 Jane cleared her throat, “Whether you actually receive this still remains to be seen though, still, you’re missing one hell of a party! So I’ll send you all the pictures we had Glyph take over the course of the night along with any we all may have taken. Save some Reapers asses for me to kick when we reach Earth. I’ll have the entire Galaxy behind me and we will beat them, I know we will and we’ll do all do it together!”

 There was an eruption of cheers from behind her and a crowd of arms washed over the red-haired woman in the centre of the screen and at that, a wide grin broke across her face. Anderson froze and instinctually paused the screen to take in what he was seeing. Never in all his years that he had known Commander Jane Shepard, had ever seen her seen her smile like that. After her defeat on Thessia… Joker had said in their last briefing that she was going downhill, and fast. Yet, here she was, as though the world were normal, as though there wasn’t a war going on. Smiling and laughing with her crew... no, her friends, her family. She’d come a long way from Earth, snatched from her family and living on the streets of Humanity’s homeworld. He was proud of her, more than he would be able to express.

 He sat there silently, taking in the image. That was the woman she was supposed to be. “I’m proud of you, child,” came the whisper, and a smile etched on his face as he blinked away the glazing of his eyes, clearing his throat before clicking play.

 Her laughter echoing through the speaker, “We miss you, I miss you! We’ll have another once this is all over! Promise! Shepard out.”

 The vid ended on her last smile, and he smiled at the last image. Before recalling there was an attachment and after locating it, well, he just wasn’t expecting his Omni-tool to be overloaded with a wave of over a hundred images. “Jesus Christ, Shepard.”

 How long did he have? For that moment he didn’t care and scrolled through every single one. His suspicions confirmed the presence of each individual he had seen or thought he had seen, save the robotic VI EDI who had not been in camera range however he was sure it was her voice he had heard somewhere in the vid. Probably the one scolding Joker? Jane was seen with each individual, hugging and kissing and joking around. He paused on this particular one with Kaidan caught in a standstill with Shepard in his arms. The way the man looked at her as though she were the greatest treasure to be found. Perhaps for the young Major, she was. However, he realised then that it never clicked in his mind two to three years ago, after the SR1 was destroyed that Kaidan wasn’t just grieving for a Commander or friend. He was grieving for his lover, for the woman he loved. Anderson sighed. At least they took the chance before it was too late.

 One thing stood out in the pictures though. She was smiling. She was laughing. She was happy. That’s what this woman’s life should have been like all this time. She should have been smiling, long ago. She should have been happy, laughing and joking with friends and family. Heck, if she wasn’t with the Alliance could have been raising her own family. She should have been safe and happy, away from all the war and fighting.

 Even as a child, he’d never seen her smile like that. A tiny little red-haired child who had stood out amongst the gaggle of children in that children’s home. Those big wide green eyes full of wonder as she had looked up at him. He was barely a decorated Alliance Soldier himself. He had placed one of his own medals, one he earned for his part in the First Contact War, on her little white t-shirt bearing the alliance emblem.

 “How will I give it back to you?” She asked innocently, truthfully, he had not expected to get it back after placing it on her.

 “The day you join the Alliance Military,” He told her, as she fiddled with it, lifting her chin to look at him, “I’ll be there waiting.” It resulted in her standing up straight, saluting him with a tiny “yes, sir.” Possibly the cutest thing anyone had ever seen if the awes from the soldiers behind him were anything to go by… nope, definitely cute and he had a picture to prove it and tease his former XO about. The next he saw her was on the streets, a chance encounter in the Metropolis café, over three and half years after meeting her. No shoes, muddied and tangled hair. Dirty clothes… the same t-shirt… and his medal. It hung on her, she had lost a lot of weight. He wondered what might have become of her if he hadn’t intervened and stopped the café owner from chasing her off. He didn’t like to think of it. Though, he wasn’t sure how he’d have to actually explain to the Alliance that he had taken in a random child off the street. What would he have said? He’d lost count of the days, weeks, months, the years he’d spent looking after her before the Alliance eventually called him in. He’d left her alone for a few short hours. A thirteen-year-old girl, who knew not to open the door to strangers and knew how to use a gun, what was the worst that could happen?

 He found out when he got home after explaining his situation and discovered his apartment had been trashed, a man in Alliance uniform with a bullet in his head and little Jane was gone. He never thought he’d be spending the next few years searching the streets for the little red-haired girl. The man in uniform wasn’t even a real Alliance Soldier but an infiltrator… a Merc. His CO called the search off. The man was unlikely to be alone and there were more than half a dozen kids on the streets. He never forgave himself for that.  The look on his face, as Jane attempted to describe years later, the day she turned up in front of him. Fresh in uniform, the same big green eyes full of wonder and that future she held in her hands and what was the first thing she did, she placed the medal back on his shirt and saluted him. He didn’t even speak as he embraced her. He wasn’t sure she’d gotten over the embarrassment… but neither could he get her to tell her what happened that day he’d left her alone. She could only say, “It wasn’t your fault.”

 Anderson sighed as he returned his eyes to his Omni-tool. The next photo was of all of them together in the living area in front of the piano. He smiled at that. She was with the people who had followed her to hell and back. Who loved and believed in her. He exhaled quietly, she was where she belonged.

The last image was of Shepard alone. She just stood there in her N7 hooded jumper smiling at the camera. The image showed him a woman who looked as though she had never seen the worst of a battle or was even in the middle of a war. It showed the woman who looked as though she had had the best years of her life and was content where she was. That was his baby girl. Blood or not... That was... No, 'is' his kid! His child.

 Anderson felt a wetness fall down his face and exhaled sharply as he wiped his eyes, I’m proud of you, Jane and I promise this to you, child. On my own life… I’ll be there to make sure you live through this.

[capriswritingnartshenanigans]

Another Time, Another Life

Samara/Female Shepard. Sfw. After the events of ME3. Catch it on AO3!: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14312781

Choami saved the world, but can she help rebuild it when her heart is running to other places?

    Time stood still for what seemed like years as Cho looked at Samara, memories flooding her mind. Of how they met on Ilium, an eclipse lieutenant at Samara’s mercy, and their talk of the mission. She remembered every talk after, and all the small pieces Samara slowly gave her about herself. She remembered both of the times she tried to pull Samara closer, to completely bond together with her, and Samara’s fears and her Code coming between them. Her thoughts swirled around their parting message, before the final battle, and Samara’s holographic hand brushing the skin of her cheek, and then her turning away and disappearing into pixels. Cho had gone into the fight clutching those memories, and a hope for more in the future, of something more than Samara felt they could have done then.

In all honesty, she thought she was dead when she killed the Reapers, and sent the Citadel spiraling to Earth. She remembered when the structure hit the surface, and sinking into the darkness as she bled out, her broken bones piercing through much softer flesh. Her memory is dark until she woke in the hospital, several weeks later. When she had began to manage to see what all the blurry objects and colors were in her sight, Samara came shifting into view. She was seated beside her, in a loose t-shirt, her armor including her crown long gone. The further her sight focused, she realized Samara was hooked up to a portable IV stand, and when she flexed her fingers, she felt the hand tangled with hers tighten. She saw Samara’s head swerve to her, but couldn’t understand what she was saying, not a single word. As she stood, she let go of Cho’s hand and quickly went to the door, but the memory was hazy and dark after that.

In the three months it took for her to be released from the Earth hospital, some of the mass relays had been fixed, allowing help to reach survivors. Samara had been released much early on, but did visit every so often, sharing information and all of what was happening. She talked about how she has been spending time with Falere, and is considering setting herself as a protector of the remains of the monastery and the surrounding area; Cho was fairly certain it was more so to spend extra time with her daughter, but she didn’t speak those thoughts aloud.

While Cho did want to know what all had changed now… Her first destination was Lesuss, and then, the monastery. The galaxy and adventure could wait another day.

And now, here she was. Staring at the woman she loved, and her lover staring right back. Samara had been glowing with happiness when she walked into the commons area, and while some of it still remained, she looked more surprised than anything, and Cho could relate, in all fairness. She had seen Samara out of dress only once up till now, and it was still very shocking. Instead of her combative red armor, she wore clothes much like that in the hospital, that hung loosely on her frame. From what she could make out, it seemed she was still in healing and that was the likely culprit to her sudden fashion change.

The two women watched each other for what seemed like decades. Then, suddenly, Cho was dropping her things and running, and flung herself into Samara’s embrace. She felt her cool hands on her back as she clutched the matriarch’s strong shoulders. They hugged one another tightly, and Cho buried her face into the soft skin of her neck. One of Samara’s hands curled into her hair, as though to keep her there, to keep both of them locked like this.

Several moments went by, and all either heard was their mixed breathing; all they felt was each other’s heartbeats pounding together. It was just them right then, holding on to what they figured they would lose not too long ago. Samara’s long, graceful fingers gently cupped her cheek as she pulled back from her. Ice blue eyes locked with hazel, and before she knew what was happening, Samara gently kissed her. It was a soft, sweet kiss, involving nothing more than their lips, and it only lasted a few moments before she pulled away fully, her hands sliding to Cho’s elbows. A soft smile spread on her iris lips, her demeanor changing to be far more welcoming and happy.

“Choami, I’ve been meaning to go to the hospital, but I got tied up-” She gestures back at the inner parts of the monastery- “helping Falere fix everything… It’s been quite the experience. I did not know glass paneling was so stubborn when trying to put it in place.” They both laughed, an air of love forming between them. Cho, with a slight grin, nodded to her clothes.

“I have never seen you in such… leisure clothing. I thought you prefered going around and showing off just how badass you are.” She snorted in surprise, and it burst into full laughter. She stumbled away, her hands pressing against her stomach as she continued to laugh. Cho watched her as she went to stand, looking out over the surrounding area, her laughing slowing to soft breathy chuckles.

“Ah, well, Falere insisted. She wants me to follow Dr. Chakwas’ orders to keep my wounds unrestricted. I… supposed I’d humor her. Do you… dislike it?” She sounded oddly discontented, or perhaps, worried. Cho laughed and walked to her, one hand softly settling on one of her arms; the wide contrast between the dark blue and pale sand skins always seemed so beautiful to her. Her eyes wandered over the clothes for a few moments, before meeting Samara’s questioning eyes.

“Samara, seeing you relax and take care of yourself… why would I dislike it? If anything, it’s easier access.” Samara let out a loud, surprised guffaw, and seemed to struggle to find words.

“I-I Cho, wh-what in the name of the Goddess- ‘Easier access’- I haven’t heard anything like that since-”

“Since your maiden days where you were… far more open?” Cho had a small smug grin on her face as she raised one brow, watching a deep purple flush rise along the asari’s neck and cheeks. She seemed about to say something else, but Falere came into the room from a side door.

“Mother, I can’t seem to find the number for- Oh. Commander.” The younger asari smiled warmly, albeit a bit shyly, and began to walk over to them. She was in an almost velvety emerald dress that billowed around her thin frame. She looked between her mother and Cho, a curious glint in her eyes. “It’s very nice to see you again. I know we parted… on less than civil terms. Mother told me you might come by at some point, though I-I didn’t know it would be so soon.” She rubbed the back of her neck, a bit of a blush coming to her face. Cho laughed softly, nodding.

“Samara didn’t know I was coming so soon either, to be fair. Though, I think I’ll stick around for a while… If you’ll have me.”

[shiningamongdarkness]

Chapter 04. Too dangerous

Shining among Darkness

By WingzemonX 

Chapter 04. Too dangerous 

The next morning, Matilda woke up very early, stood up as fast as she could for two cups of coffee in the restaurant on the ground floor of the hotel, and then poured a little more in a thermos for the road. She climbed into her rented vehicle and drove north along with the first rays of the sun. It would be a long and tiring journey of a few hours, in which she would have no other companion but the radio and her thermos.

The original route she had planned the day before, before her call with Eleven, was to head straight to Port Townsend, through Portland, and perhaps stopping for a few moments in Olympia to rest and have a more real breakfast. That only route would end up taking probably between four and five hours. Once in Port Townsend, she would have to wait and get the ferry would take her to Moesko Island, where the Morgan Horse Farm was located. Taking into account the wait and the time of the tour, in the worst scenario she expected to be there between one and two p.m.

But, as we said, that was her original route; the one she had in mind when she got up that morning, was a new one. It included in Tacoma, instead of taking the northwesterly direction to Port Townsend, deviated towards the northeast, toward Seattle. It would take several additional hours. She had planned to go to Seattle after going to Moesko, but the call with Eleven had made her feel that going there must be a priority.

According to her information, for three years Cody Hobson, an old friend of her from the Foundation, worked in Seattle as a biology teacher in a middle school. Cody also had the Shining, but one unique, very different from hers, very different from Eleven's, and very different from primarily any other that she had known until that moment; but, surprisingly, maybe a little similar to Samara's, or at least that's what she theorized. That is why she had considered it a good idea to talk to him, especially taking advantage of their relative closeness. But now perhaps he could also shed some light on what had Eleven so worried, or what was the other experience she was supposed to need. And even if he couldn't, with his different perception thanks to his Shining, she was sure he would be helpful.

At Olympia, Matilda stopped at a Denny's for breakfast, rest and stretch her legs. She took advantage of the stop, which she considered was already at a prudent hour to call, to communicate with Mr. Morgan, and move the time of their meeting to later, after four or five; there didn't seem to be any problem. She also tried to communicate with Cody so as not to be surprised him, but apparently, the last number she had of him was not the most recent one. Matilda sent a message to Eleven, asking her to pass on his new phone number if she had it. For her good luck, yes, she did; to her bad luck, she answered her when was on the road again, and she couldn't read it until an hour later when was about to cross the Seattle limits. And even so, when she tried to call with that new number, the phone rang, but of the three attempts she made, none of them got an answer.

Matilda stopped for a moment to think. What if she had made that detour in vain? What if Cody was not even in Seattle? Maybe he had gone to Alabama to visit her mother, and she had ventured without even knowing.

It took her a few minutes to decide, but in the end, chose to go to the school when he works and take the risk. When she arrived, she showed up at the Principal's Office as a colleague of Cody Hobson, whom she was looking for an urgent personal matter. For her fortune, they informed her the person she was looking for was present and teaching at that time. That made her sigh in relief. They offered to send him to call, but she opted to go on her own to see him in the classroom, foreseeing the recess time was near. Although they were reluctant in the beginning, her very effective power of conviction gave her the way.

Matilda followed the indications given to find Room B of the seventh grade, whose door was open. When she was a few inches from the entrance, she could hear, and clearly recognize, the teacher's voice inside.

"... and this particular class of monarch butterfly is one of the longest species," pronounced the soft and somewhat playful voice inside the classroom "since they can get to live for eight to nine months."

Matilda stopped near the doorframe, and peeked subtly, trying not to call attention at all. Standing in front of the room, she saw a young man, somewhat thin, with blond hair, slightly long and straight, with a tuft combed to the right, which completely covered his forehead. His dun eyes peered out from behind a pair of thin-framed glasses. He wore an interesting outfit, of blue jeans, a green checkered shirt, and a casual brown coat, which, thanks to his complexion, made it look like it was bigger than it really was. Matilda could not help but smile a little; a pair of boots and a hat, and he would have the typical attire of a young Alabama cowboy, though his remarkable lack of facial hair would not help him to secure that appearance.

His old friend Cody looked just as she remembered him; his somewhat boyish face made him look considerably younger than he really was. But few knew that beneath that squalid and seemingly feeble appearance, one of the most powerful possessors of the Shining with whom she had had the opportunity to cross himself was hiding, as well as one of the most intelligent.

Matilda stayed outside, just listening to the rest of his lesson until the bell rang.

"This period may sound short," continued the young professor, looking with great emotion at his students, "but it is not so much if we consider that the average lifetime of a monarch is..."

He paused for a long time, and turned to the class, waiting for someone to complete his sentence on his own initiative. However, what was found was only silence.

"I'll give you a clue: I said it fifteen minutes ago."

It took a while longer to show some reaction until a girl in the center of the classroom shyly lifted her hand.

"Four weeks?" She questioned, unsure.

"If we only count its time as a butterfly, yes. If we consider its entire life cycle, since it is an egg, we would be talking about four to eight weeks, maybe up to ten. But I'm rambling."

Cody stood right in the center of the board, took a blue marker and began to write some facts about it while continuing with his explanation. The children, for their part, wrote in their notebooks everything they considered relevant.

"These monarchs of the Methuselah generation, are a very unique case. Not only for the fact that they live longer than the others, but it seems that they MUST" he said with particular emphasis on this word, "to do so. You see, as I had told you, the monarchs, with their lives so ephemeral, mainly live only and exclusively for the survival of their species. They born, reproduce, and then die, in that simple order without more or less. When winter arrives, they need to travel south, to look for warmer lands, from Canada to central and southern Mexico. But having such short lives, how could they make this long journey? How could they survive all those months? Logic would tell you that their destiny is to die under those circumstances and the species would become extinct."

He paused a little, and turned back to the class, grinning from ear to ear with enthusiasm.

"But that's when these little ones come into action." he pointed out with great emphasis as if he was about to reveal a secret surprise. "It is as if nature itself were a conscious being, and knew exactly what it does. Because just when autumn arrives, when the cold begins, the generation born in these moments, is born with the ability to last much longer than their ancestors. And in this way, they can carry out the incredible task of making the long journey to the south, survive all those months, and then return home, to make way for the next generation, something that would be almost impossible otherwise. If we put it in perspective, it is as if you had a child, and this child was born with the capacity to live more than five hundred years. And everything, only to last the species. As if that child was born with a special and unique gift, with the fate of using it to ensure that his descendants survive. To make sure that our species live a generation more.

All the children, plus Matilda in the hall, listened to that part of the story with great interest. But it was only the young psychiatrist who got the full message of what he was trying to convey at that point. Did he expect that perhaps a particular child among his audience would understand it too? Or did he just throw the comment into the air, like a net waiting to catch something? Of course, it could just be a coincidence.

"Nature, from this point of view, is quite wise," the professor concluded. "We are all born with a purpose, although it is not always so clear which is..."

The bell rang at that moment, cutting off Cody's words, which still seemed at least to have been able to get to the point. The boys, impatient, began to store all their things with some haste.

"Remember the essay for next week. Play well, enjoy your recess."

Some of the children responded with a small yes, but most of them went to the door of the room sooner rather than later. When they went out into the hall, some of them looked curiously at Matilda standing outside, who only smiled and greeted them in a friendly way; a few returned the greeting in the same way.

Once the room was wholly emptied, at least of students, Matilda took the liberty of finally entering. Cody had his back to the door, picking up his books and notes from the desk.

"Excellent class, teacher," Matilda exclaimed in a lively tone, which took the blond boy by surprise. "Although the story of the Methuselah Monarchs I liked the first ten times you told me, I love that new final turn that you added. Inspiring"

There was a playful tone, almost sarcastic in his words, but that did not make them false.

Cody turned quickly to the door when he heard her, and his face was filled with astonishment to see her there. However, this astonishment did not take long to become joy.

"Matilda! What an incredible surprise!" he exclaimed enthusiastically and immediately approached her with outstretched arms. The young brunette did the same so both could give each other a friendly hug.

"I'm sorry to get this way," the visitor apologized, once they were released. "I wanted to call you by phone, but it was impossible."

"I'm sorry..." Cody extended his hand to the desk, grabbing his cell phone and taking a quick look at his screen. "I always put it in silence when I am in class. But it's been so long; four years at least. What brings you to Seattle?"

"I'm dealing with a case of the Foundation in Oregon, near to Salem, which is getting a bit complicated. I thought, and Eleven also agreed with me, that you could help me with some things. If possible, of course."

"Of course yes," he did not hesitate to answer, smiling widely at his old friend. "Anything for you, and for Eleven."

Matilda also smiled, happy to see that the boy she met maybe twelve years ago was still the same kind boy she remembered, with the same positive and candid vibe around her. Although there were some subtle differences. She reminded, for example, always being noticeably taller than him, but at that moment, even with his heels, they seemed to be in quite similar statures. The glasses were also new, but they still looked great with their style. And not to mention the notorious security that transmitted when teaching. Although of course, perhaps talking about a subject that was as passionate as the butterflies, helped a lot in that.

While Cody continued to collect his things, she gave herself permission to take a seat at one of the chairs in the front row. Although it had not been that long since the end of his doctorate to say that it brought her nostalgia for when she was a student, it gave her a somewhat strange feeling. She looked thoughtfully at the whiteboards, with the data that Cody had written on them with down on them. Irremediably to his head came some memories, already distant, of his own days of elementary school. Of course, back then the boards were green, and they used chalks.

She was so lost in her thoughts that she only reacted when Cody began to erase the data about the Methuselah Monarchs.

"I do not know if I ever told you," she began suddenly, "but for a long time during my childhood and puberty, my future goal was to be a teacher."

"As your adoptive mother was, right?

"She still is. Although now she is more dedicated to being principal."

"And why did not you become it at the end?"

Matilda remained pensive for a while. It was a good question that she sometimes asked herself, but she did not have a concrete answer yet, but perhaps several that complemented each other.

"I don't know," she whispered slowly, more to herself than to the boy in front of her. "I guess it was just the turns that life gives."

When Cody finished erasing, Matilda stood up again, and approached to the professor's desk, with her briefcase in hand. She took out without waiting for the file that was assembling Samara's case, both the information Dr. Scott had given her, plus the info she got from her own sources. And, of course, the one she had been collecting in those past three days; it looked quite bulky, but even so she needed the information that was stored directly on her computer.

"Is the term Projected Thermography familiar to you?" Matilda asked. Cody just stared at her, with confusion in his eyes. "If not, don't worry. It is not very known. It is a theoretical psychic ability, which is based on being able to translate a mental image on some solid surface. It is mainly related to photographs and videos made to the user, but it is also presented on paper or practically any space.

Matilda opened the file and took out several X-rays, or at least that's what they looked like, and placed them on the desk. These were five. Cody sat in the chair behind the desk, adjusted his glasses, and looked at them. Although they seemed like X-rays, what exactly they were projected was not clear. They were not from the bones of a person, that was obvious. They seemed to be some kind of strange drawings, reflected in the acetate as flashes of light. In one, what appeared, at first sight, appeared to be a toy horse, floating on waves of the sea. In another one, he could see someone's feet, covered with boots, and below, apparently buried underground, what appeared to be a doll with syringes and nails in it; a pretty scary sight. In another, there was a tree with large branches on a horizon, and in another the silhouettes of several toys.

Cody was more than intrigued by what he saw.

"Do you say that someone captured these images with its mind?" he asked curiously, looking at Matilda again.

"A twelve-year-old girl, to be exact. According to what doctors told me, it is what appears every time they try to take an X-ray of any part of her body, as if instead of projecting their bones, what she is thinking does."

Cody's right eyebrow arched, as a sign of suspicion, forming an almost comical gesture on his face.

"And, do you think it's about that Thermography you mentioned a moment ago?"

"Yes, and no," Matilda answered, something eclectic. "Although the doctors who examined her first are using this term, I am thinking that it is something much more complicated than that. She can not only capture these images on radiographs or physical surfaces like these; she can also do it in the minds of people. She did it with her mother unintentionally, causing her to see things that have been dragging her to madness. And apparently she also did it with the horses of the ranch where she lives, making them go crazy, and many of them jumped into the sea.

"Jumped to the sea? Hey, I think I read something about that." As a biologist, it was understandable that an incident like that would get his attention. "They said in the newspapers that the reasons were unknown, or not?"

"For them perhaps, but for their parents, it was clear from the beginning what or who had been. She is able to create really lived images, and implant them in people and animals, sometimes without realizing it, provoking on them obsessive reactions, and sometimes even violent ones."

"Does she have telepathic qualities?"

"Yes, but as far as I've seen, quite a few. These are more sensations and small flashes that come to her suddenly. And I know, it's a contradiction. Logic would say that someone who could alter a person's mind in such a way, should have extraordinary telepathic abilities, but it is not like that, or at least she has not shown it. And you know as well as I that every Shining is very different. So, we couldn't judge it like a ruler carved in stone. Besides, it seems to me that she has not shown everything she is capable of doing. It's foreboding, but I think she can do many more things with her abilities that we still don't know, including herself."

Cody did not respond with words, but his expression showed that he didn't disagree with these statements, or at least had nothing to deny them. He put his attention back on the X-rays, looking at them with great interest. Some of those images were really strange; hard to believe that they had come from the mind of a child. Although, if someone knew the horrors that could hide in the head of a small child, that was him.

"What do you think?" Matilda questioned, somewhat anxiously. "Could it be something similar to your ability?"

"I'm not sure," the professor replied, not taking his eyes from the images. "The truth is, I don't think anyone has seen anything like it before, not even Eleven."

That statement left Matilda almost immediately stunned.

"Why you say that?"

Cody remained thoughtful. What was it that occupied his mind so much? After almost a minute of silence, he took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes with his fingers. He stood up, walked to the door, and hurried to close it, locked inside.

"There is something you must understand about my Shining," he said with a somewhat serious tone, as opposed to the lively state he had moments ago.

Suddenly, he clasped his hands in front of his chest and carved his palms. He closed his eyes for a moment and then when he opened them again, he separated his palms by extending them to the sides, and from among them came a small and bright blue butterfly, sharp, that fluttered its wings in the air, until it was placed above their heads. But it was not the only one. Instead, it was followed by dozens equal, who began to fly around the room with complete freedom.

Matilda looked at them all with admiration, but not with surprise.

"When I materialize a thought in the environment," he continued explaining, "it lasts only until I stop thinking about it, or until I stop focusing on it. After that, it vanishes, like a curtain of smoke; as if it had never been here really."

One by one, all the blue butterflies began to disintegrate, like losses in a bluish haze that stretched everywhere. In a matter of seconds, all the butterflies vanished; in effect, as if they had never been there.

Cody's Shining was unique in its kind: it gave him the ability to materialize his thoughts and dreams in his environment, and manipulate it at his disposal. But not as simple intangible illusions, not as mere mirages; what he projected, really became real, at least for the period he decided. To Matilda, that ability had always seemed quite incredible, as well as beautiful. However, it could also become frightening, under certain circumstances. According to Eleven and Cody himself, it was quite difficult to control and maintain in a conscious state, but it became a hundred times more effective while he slept; but, consequently, more uncontrollable.

"It's the same when a telepath with illusionist skills, projects an image in the mind of a person; likewise, it only lasts until the user stops it, and after that, it also vanishes. They are just ideas, you understand me? Temporary images that we form in our heads, and then externalize. But this…"

Cody retook one of the x-rays and placed it against the light to see it better.

"These images are not temporary. They remain, they remain in the physical world, although the user is not even present. And if this happens with the images on the acetate, it should be the same with the minds of the people. In other words, the images she implants in their minds..." He made a slight reflective pause, "they never disappear. If she did this to her mother, the damage that she has done..."

"It could be permanent," Matilda concluded, anticipating the point Cody wanted to reach; he nodded, affirming his suspicion.

They both remained silent, digesting their resolution. Matilda had already considered it beforehand, but the fact that Cody confirmed it, made it even more real. The atmosphere in the room became somewhat gloomy at once. Was that what worried Eleven so much? What made her feel that maybe she was not ready to deal with something like that? It was probable, but it did not make clear to her what exactly she meant that this ability could be of a "different nature."

While she was meditating about it, Cody noticed another image that Matilda brought with her, but instead of being in an acetate, it was in a cardboard painting, of legal size. Cody took it, and took a look; the same tree, or at least one very similar, to that of the x-rays, was there embodied.

"She did that too?"

"Yes, just yesterday. I asked her to do it to corroborate that she was capable of forming the images consciously, or if only involuntarily. Apparently, it was the first option, although I don't think she understands very well how she did it."

Cody looked curiously at the strange drawing. He looked at it very closely, and also carefully moved his fingers over the surface of the cardboard, precisely where the tree strokes were. Something caught his attention immediately.

"It's strange. In the radiographs, this is not so remarkable, but here you can see that the drawing is not on the cardboard, or inside of it: it is in it as if it had been prefabricated with the image. As if it were part of the same material."

Hearing that, Matilda turned to see him quickly with her eyes wide open, but Cody didn't notice immediately.

"But the only way I can think that could be possible is that..."

"The cardboard has been modified at the molecular level!" Matilda hurried to add, noticing a remarkable emotion in her voice that took Cody by surprise. A small giggle followed, almost nervous. "How I did not realize before? The only way you could modify the image on radiographs is by manipulating the x-ray photons that reach the film so that the desired image is formed. That must have been my key. On cardboard and on paper it is the same. If you manage to modify the molecules of the material, they can be rearranged in a certain way, and this is how you get these images to appear. That's why the images last. He does not project them with his mind, his mind makes them physically, in the full extent of the word."

"Actually, it makes sense now that you mention it," Cody added, already a little infected by the emotion of his friend. "People often see the thoughts and memories of people as abstract and intangible; in other words, as something non-physical. But in biological terms, all this is based mainly on cellular and chemical compositions of our brains. That means…"

"These can equally be manipulated at a molecular level, such as cardboard or photons!" Matilda exclaimed more forcefully than she intended. "It is not strictly projected thermography in the conventional sense, but an entirely new skill: the ability to modify the minds of people on a physical level, not abstract as telepathy. That should be her primary skill, and the images that are captured on the x-rays and on paper, are only results derived from it, not the other way around as Dr. Scott and his team assumed. They went by the theory of thermography and did not see beyond, and I almost fell into the same!"

"But all this is merely speculative," the young professor hastened to point out. "It is impossible to know if in truth its ability is as we suppose, mainly because there is no precedent similar to this. It isn't telepathy, or telekinesis, or anything we have interacted with before. But also, if in fact, it is something like what you say, we would be talking about a skill too dangerous," he put particular emphasis on that last part. "Probably, with enough concentration and experience, it could completely destroy a person's mind, turn it into a vegetable, or even brainwash it entirely and turn it into another person. Or something like the Inception movie, but much more aggressive."

"Are not you exaggerating?" Matilda muttered, somewhat skeptically, to which Cody simply shrugged.

"Maybe, but I'm just going to the greatest extreme that comes to mind. I heard some other guys at the Foundation say that if they focused enough, Eleven was capable of causing a stroke to someone. Obviously, I never saw her do it, but..." He seemed to decide at the last moment not to continue with his prayer. "But, not everything has to be bad. In the right way, a skill like this could also be very beneficial. It could help people with some type of brain injury, disorders in neuronal development, or even help correct behavioral problems or dementia. Who knows? Perhaps also correct permanent commas, or cure emotional traumas."

"Probably," Matilda agreed. "But I think it will be a long time before they allow someone like her to make a psychic version of brain surgery to someone."

"Maybe. But what I try to say in the end is that, if it is what we think, it can bring many good things... but also many bad things." He stared at Matilda at that moment through the thin lenses of his glasses. "You must be very careful. What happened to her mother, can happen to you."

"Don't worry," she hurriedly responded, unconcerned. "Do you forget the protection that Eleven placed on us against this type of attack when we were children?"

"No, but remember that this might not be a normal psychic ability. Also, I remember that Eleven told us that this protection was more for long distance attacks so that no one could detect us or affect us from afar. And she also said to us that the closer we were, the less effective would it become. And you will be pretty close to this child."

Matilda remained silent, remarkably thoughtful. Actually, she didn't need Cody to mention it to her: she was fully aware of it. She had always used the excuse of that supposed protection as sustenance, to make her mother not care about her, and partly to give herself self-confidence in her work. But now, maybe it was not going to be enough.

Eleven had told her that this case seemed particularly dangerous to her, and now it was hard to pretend that she didn't think she could be right. Matilda could accept without a problem that Eleven was right; in fact, since her adolescence, she had become used to it. But what she couldn't stand, would give the reason to Dr. Scott and his fears, although these no longer seemed so irrational.

He sighed wearily and sat down again at one of the desks.

"I had thought to ask you to accompany me in a session so you could meet this girl, and give me your opinion more first hand; especially about her shining. But I will understand if, after all this, you prefer not to get involved so directly."

"Don't worry, I'll do it with pleasure," Cody hurried to answer, taking Matilda a little by surprise. "As I said, I would do anything for you... And for Eleven!" He added quickly, almost nervous.

Matilda could only let out a small giggle, which she tried to disguise, but it still made the boy's cheeks flush a little.

"What's the girl's name?" Cody asked quickly, trying to change the theme.

"Her name is Samara, Samara Morgan."

Cody's face formed a strange grimace of confusion.

"Morgan?"

"Yes. Something happens?"

"No, nothing. It's just that Morgan was the name of my mother... my biological mother," corrected quickly. "What a coincidence. Maybe she's my relative."

Looking back at Matilda, he noticed that her face had become grave, so much so that for a moment he came to think that he had said something that had annoyed her. But before Cody could ask her what was wrong, she pronounced...

"No, I don't think she is."

Cody just looked at her, confused by that strange reaction.  

END OF CHAPTER 04

AUTHOR'S NOTES:

—The character of Cody Hobson or Cody Morgan is based on the child protagonist of the movie Before I Wake of 2016, now around twenty-five years-old, in contrast to the eight he had in the film. Therefore it is taken that the events of Before I Wake occur several years earlier than originally. Cody's skills will be based entirely on those exposed in the film, but perhaps with some slight adjustments to give them more explanation.

—The explanation given in this chapter to the psychic abilities of Samara Morgan are mostly creations of my own imagination since, in their respective films, it is never explained in a very detailed or explicit way how they work. Throughout this story, this theme will be played frequently and will continue to be explained.

[rizzizzsins-blog]

From the Ashes, Ch. 4

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 “Right. Th-thank you. We’ll be on our way.” *click*

 “Who was that, Fi?”

 The King of Underfell hid his irritation at being woken at 3 AM. It was part and parcel of being an active king, but it was also endlessly frustrating, considering its frequency.

 “Fi?” He asked. “Where are we going at this hour? Those vulture bureaucrats can wait till tomorrow.”

 She slowly shook her head, hands trembling as she turned around.

 The expression on his wife’s face was one he hadn’t seen since their children had died. As soon as she put the house phone down, she tossed her cell and wallet into her purse.

 “Fi, it’s 3 in the morning. What happened?”

 Nope. His wife was in a state of shock. She wasn’t going to tell him anything like that. Deep breaths, he reminded himself. Don’t get worked up. Don’t scare her off again.

 “Fafriel. What happened.”

 Nothing.

 Before, he would have raised his voice until she answered him, but he knew better. A hundred years or so of separation had taught him that.

 “I’ll call the babysitter.”

  Beep…. Beep…. Beep……

 What was that annoying beeping sound? Asher reached to turn his alarm clock off, but his arm wouldn’t move.

 He wasn’t in his house.

 What had happened?

 All at once, the memories hit him. The excruciating pain in his body started at his arm and spread like wildfire. He involuntarily screamed and a clearly inexperienced and shaken nurse dashed in, yelling into a walkie-talkie.

 “He’s alive! Oh, gods, it’s a miracle, he’s alive!”

 Something was blocking his view of her face… something reflective.

 The mask and the glass surrounding him told him that he’d been tanked in liquid  magic to keep him stable. It really had been as horrible as his mind told him.

 “Hello? Ms. Samara? Can you speak?”

 He managed to croak his name.

 “Asher. I’m really sorry! Can you tell me what day it is?”

 “__/__/____.”

 “That’s a g-good sign. I’ll be taking care of you for now… Dr. Dreemurr is in a meeting with the other Royal Families.”

 Wait, Dr. Dreemurr was a queen? Jeez, being a glen monster really left him out of the loop on stuff. Considering he always saw them on the news, he really should have made the connection earlier.

 His stomach flipped.

 “G-gonna puke,” he managed.

 “G-go ahead, Mr. Asher. The tube attached to your mask will drain it away then self clean.”

 The feeling of vomit sitting against his mouth made him want to die, but the nurse hadn’t lied. It was gone in seconds.

 “It’s q-quite a handy machine. If the sensors find more fluid buildup in your lungs, th-the tube will get rid of that, as well as any sap you might cough up.”

 Now that Asher’s eyes were a little more in focus, he took a look at the nurse. She was a lizard monster, hunched over and anxious. He would be too, but he was too numb. Too drugged out on whatever the hospital put him on.

 He felt the steady pressure of liquid painkiller osmosing through another tube suctioned to his arm. It certainly beat needles.

 “How’s y-your pain level?”

 “Z.”

 “Th-that’s not a number.”

 “I know…. Just messing with you,” Asher attempted to smile, but his muscles weren’t doing it right. He could feel it.

 “I’m g-glad you’re feeling okay enough to joke. That’s always a g-good sign in a patient. Your vitals are gobbledygook, but steady, in their own off-kilter way. Dr. Dreemurr will be in soon. In the meantime, Dr. Clemm will be in to keep you company.”

 Clemm? His professor? Was he tripping, or did she just say his teacher was coming into his room?          “Why?”

 “Oh, you didn’t know? Dr. Clemm teaches classes at your school, but he’s also a trained emergency response trauma psychiatrist and counselor. I h-hope it’s not too awkward talking to your instructor, but he’s the best guy in t-town, I promise.”

 “I’ll take your word for it.” Every word out of Asher’s mouth hurt his throat. His voice was deeper, phlegmy.

 Knock knock. Speak of the devil.

 “You can come in, Dr. Clemm.”

 “Right. Would you mind opening the door for me, Alphys dear? I have my notepad and phone in my hands.”

 “Oh, of course!”

 She rushed to the door and pulled it open. Another skeleton? Weren’t they supposed to be rare? Why was Asher meeting one every five minutes?

 “.... heh. Fancy meeting you here, Professor.”

 Clemm’s already gentle features softened further at seeing Asher. He must be a right mess.

 “Alphys, if you wouldn’t mind? If something goes wrong, I’ll press the button.”

 “R-right. Confidentiality and all th-that.” the nurse stepped out.

 “So… how’s this for more personal?” Asher chuckled, trying to lighten the mood.

 “You match my younger son to a tee. Always making light of the painful to spare others, I’m sure… but I shouldn’t make assumptions. Yes, Asher, this is certainly more personal than I expected. Now then, you understand your rights as a patient, yes? I cannot, and will not divulge your personal information without your consent, unless I feel that you are going to hurt yourself or someone else.”

 “Thanks, yeah. I briefly went to therapy before.”

 “Excellent. So… let’s talk. It can be about anything you want. It doesn’t even have to relate to what’s happening right now, but you can talk about that if you want to.”

 Asher stiffened.

 “...... Do you have a mirror? I want to see what’s left of me.”

 “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

 “I’m used to not liking what I see. Just show me. No one else will do it and you know it.”

 “...”

 Clemm hadn’t expected to get woken at 3 in the morning, but as soon as he’d gotten the reason why, he’d packed his tools and set off in his car. He hated to admit it, but he could no longer teleport that far.

 He hadn’t been given much information as to the nature of the accident, to prevent it from leaking to human media. All he knew was that it happened in the science building after hours, to a student janitor. There was a pit in his stomach that told him what had occurred; it would explain the surge in his own magic not much earlier.

 There was a stirring in the VOID. And he hoped to the gods that he wouldn’t pull in to pronounce a death.

 Now that student was staring him in the eye with his? Her? Dark grey eyes, their foggy white eyelights piercing into him.

 He couldn’t say no. It wouldn’t be fair.

 “I’ll… go get you a mirror.”

 “Just take a picture and show it to me.” There was an age-old heaviness in the student’s face, as if he had lived for a hundred years. Hesitantly, Clemm took a picture with his phone. He had to retake it a couple of times, no thanks to his trembling hands. The student’s hands trembled in their restraints as well. A bad sign.

 Each step towards the youth felt like a hundred miles. He really, really didn’t want to be the one to do this, but they would be more at risk if they saw themselves with no one to help them process.

 It took Asher’s eyes a couple of seconds to focus onto the picture of him, and when he did, he wished he had never asked.

 He was horrible.

 The moss in his hair was black like broom bristles. His once vibrant yellow eyelights were a muted white, like steam, and his body looked like it’d been left in a forest fire and dipped in an oil spill at the same time. His soul was a marble of black and purple in his chest, and each beat of it hurt him to his core. He looked dead. He should be.

 He wished he was.

 He didn’t realize he was crying, but he felt the water dripping from his eyelids onto his face.

 “I’m... horrible.”

 “Nonsense… you’re----”

 “I look like a fucking corpse, Professor. This is what my people look like when we’re buried in the ground. You don’t have to lie to spare my feelings…. I know the truth.”

 Bingo, Clemm thought.

 “Alright, I’ll have to stop you right there.”

 “What?” Asher asked, confused.

 “Let’s analyze that statement. You say that I don’t have to lie to spare your feelings, because you look like a corpse. But I have never seen a dryad corpse in my life, so I cannot lie to you about something I don’t have any concept of in the first place.”

 “Oh… shit, you’re right.”

 “Now, you know what the corpse of your kind looks like. But the truth is based on fact, and as much as your brain says your opinions are the truth, your perspective is warped by the fact that you just went through one of the most horrible events of your life.”

 “That kind of helps… not much, but a little.”

 Clemm beamed. “That’s what a therapist does. We’re lawyers against the angry voices in your head.”

 That got a chuckle out of Asher.

 “Look, Clemm, I appreciate it a lot, but I’m starting to get really sleepy.”

 “You’ll be out for a couple of days. The tank is putting you to sleep so that all your magic can focus on stabilizing you. I’m glad I got to talk to you a bit before you went out,” the professor smiled. “Don’t worry too much about my class, alright? We can work something out when you’re capable of working again.”

 Asher yawned, nodding. “I appreciate it, Prof. Nighty night.”

 “Goodnight, Asher.”

 Asher gasped himself awake.

 There was some dust on his tank, but not too much. Someone put a sticky note on the front.

 “When you wake up, press the call button.

 -Alphys”

 Would he even be able to? Remembering how much it hurt just to move his hand terrified him.

 Before he knew it, his arm shakily pressed the button.

 P̶̦͕̪͛̏͊r̷̬͓̯͝e̶̺̮̅̀͊s̸͖̯̈͌̄͝s̴̜͌͆̕è̴͚̪̜̱̅̒d̷͚̺̦͗̿̎̉ ̷̡̝̟̥̃̿ṱ̵̯̥̈́͌͛ḥ̵̺͔͍͂͛e̵̢̛͓͙ ̴͉̈́͊̚b̴̗̻̓̂͂͝u̶͙̣̱̬̿̒t̵͕̳̦̯͌̏͊͠t̶͕͓̞͗̕o̸̖̅͒̽ņ̷̣̠͋͝

 ̷͙͕͑̅̚P̵͐̔͜r̷̻͗ë̴̛͕̟́̅̾s̸͓̤͇̮͛̍̒s̶̳̹̮͙̕ę̸̛͇̲̊͑d̸̦̼̒ ̷̫̜̑͜t̸̘̿̽h̵̰͓́̈́̒͝e̶̮͊ ̶̥̥̈̐͆̅ͅb̵̲̮̀̋̎̓ṵ̵͖͂t̶͇̼́̇̀̐t̶̜̎͊o̸̰͉̖̍n̶͓͕͓͗

 ̶̞̼̈́̈́B̷͚̖͚̈́͗͊͗ũ̶̡̳͊t̶̼̤͙̋̊͋ ̴̯̠̗̍n̶͍̼̪͋͌ǒ̴̘b̵̯̍̓́ọ̸̅̕͝ḑ̸̲̲͋͌̎y̴̛̝̦̜̟͑́̕ ̵̯̹̂͊c̵͚͇̰̐̓ä̵̠̥́̈́̌͝m̴̹̮̺͔̈́̓͘ě̵̩̣̣͐

 ̵̤͈̞̲̆B̴̗̱͙͐̽̈́̽ü̶̲̝͇̇͑͘t̷͎̍̆̚ ̴̛̗̤͈͛͌n̸͕̺̱͈̔̀o̷͙̅̕b̴̛̖̒ȯ̶̙̥d̷̦͑̂͝y̸̰͐ ̸̬̓̎͠͠c̸̖̄̇͛a̵͖͇͖͚̒m̴͇̪̟̩̌͛ȅ̴̩͛͝

 ̴͉͓͓̀͘B̷͚̤̞́̐ṷ̶̈̈t̶̨̯̙̓̈́̌ ̷̦͚̪̓͗̃n̵̻̔̏ǒ̶̼͔̉̇b̶͓̲̕o̶̹͖͓͋͊̎d̵̗̓͌̈́́y̴̞͓̝̓̕ ̷̧͔͎̈ͅc̵̳̋̽͛͘a̴͙̥̋̎͆m̸̹̳̌̈́e̶̘̤̽͂

 “A-are you alright, Asher? You’re awake a full day early. Asher? Asher? C-can you see the hand I’m waving in front of you?”

 “Huh? What? Oh… hey, Alphys.”

 “H-hello! I’m glad you were able to press---- move your hand! That’s a g-great sign already. I’m gonna d-drain the tank, and open the hatch. Will you t-try to sit up for me then?”

 Asher managed to nod.

 With a hiss, the liquid magic drained out of the tank, and the hatches opened. With some effort, he sat about halfway up before collapsing.

 “Hey, that’s okay. A-anyone would have trouble after all your body’s been through.”

 Alphys took hold of his shoulders.

 “Let’s try it again, t-together. Ready?”

 “Yeah.”

 With her extra muscle, Asher managed to sit up and stay that way. The tank bent forward like a lawn chair to prop him in place.

 “Your vitals are still making their own kind of sense, but you are alive, you’ve displayed 0% risks of immortality, and your body composition is…. Mostly solid. I’m gonna call in Dr. D-Dreemurr, and she’s gonna talk to you about your opt-options.”

 Options? What the hell did that mean?