Dandylion240

Avery: Hey Darren, sorry about Saturday.

Darren: Nah, all good! Rebecca filled me in on what happened.

Darren: So... I did take a look at Thursday's records. That lad is in a pretty rough shate, isn't he?

Alexander: We just had a meeting with his parents.

Darren: Oh? Any new insights?

Alexander: Not really. Apparently, they only learned about his infection through the news.

Darren: Well, that’s not exactly helpful. At least I have some good news to share. Our latest compound has shown promising results, and…

(...)

Henry: Did you tell them?!

Finn: Of course not.

Henry: I warn you, Finn. If any of this gets out -

Finn: I didn’t tell them f*cking shit, okay?!

(...)

Alexander: Enough of this!

Alexander: And you better get out of here before I get security involved.

Alexander: Mr. Menford? Please, take a seat.

Alexander: I assume FutureSim Labs has informed you why they transferred your son into our care?

Vittoria: They mentioned that Finn wasn’t responding to their treatment.

Henry: Will our son… I mean, will he be alright?

Alexander: I assure you that your son is receiving the best possible care.

(...)

Vittoria: Before we leave, can we talk to Finn?

Alexander: … Five minutes. And the meeting has to be supervised

Henry: Supervised? Is that really necessary?

Alexander: It’s standard protocol. Besides, it’s for your own safety.

(...)

Alexander: Do you believe them?

Avery: That they didn’t know about Finn’s infection? Not one bit.

Avery: Do you?

Alexander: The kid’s growing a plant on his face. Even if it wasn’t this bad a week ago, there’s no way they didn’t know.

author's note:

Alexander: I assure you that your son is receiving the best possible care. :)

- meanwhile -

It's about that time, y'all. I have sim-storied into the sun, and now it's time for me to take a break.

But not before the thrilling conclusion of the second arc of Monster Date Night!

First, some apologies. I have been MIA. I've fallen behind on your stories. I've ignored asks and tag games. I AM SORRY. I had to lock in to finish this arc, and it turns out having a trial of life and death in the Netherworld in Blender was a massive undertaking that nearly took me out.

Like I said, I sim-storied into the sun.

But oh, how proud I am 😭

I want to take a few months to touch grass, play with my save file, and dream up how to solve all the problems I've created for my lovely characters (the thing about starting a zombie apocalypse is that you have to somehow end it 🧐). In the meantime, I am going to tackle my TBR of your lovely stories, and finally catch up on my backlog of asks and tag games.

Monster Date Night will be back for the final arc sometime in October, so you've got plenty of time to catch up.

And there's still more to enjoy!

I am headed out of town for vacay, but I've got the rest of Chapter 14 and Chapter 15 queued up. Vlad and Akira will plunge into the Netherworld and yes, The Determined will finally stand trial. 😈

Many, many thanks to @dandylion240 for trusting me with her character, collaborating with me, and writing some seriously beautiful prose as we wrap up Evan’s adventure in hell my story. It's been such a joy, and I don't think I would have pushed myself to try so many new things if not for her.

Also, shout out to @sirianasims who has graciously agreed not to push me out a window even though I cried to her every five minutes about how this thing I chose to do of my own free will was ruining my life. Don't worry, me and Blender didn't break up, but we are going to take a little break from each other, lol.

Alright, I want to say more, but my brain is complete mush. Chapters resume tomorrow! I won't be able to update my previous/next links for a little bit, so bear with me. You can always use Latest to see all the story posts in order, so hopefully that helps for the next few weeks until I can get my shit together.

xoxo - Ferosh

“What the hell was Markus’s crew doing here?” JJ asks as he finishes shedding his wolf form. "They were holding back, you know. We're lucky it wasn't a full moon."

Most of them were vampire-werewolf hybrids, sims who had gotten caught up in a vampire group's delusional plans to bring back Edward Vatore. They wanted it so badly, they partnered with a werewolf pack on a series of brutal experiments.

“Maybe Aubrey was looking for another date," Akira deadpans, still annoyed at the idea of his ex warning them off of him. Did he think Akira would thank him for it?

"It wasn't a date," JJ huffs with a scowl. "She tried to drain me in the middle of the bar.”

"So that's a 'no' on foreplay then," Akira replies with a mocking nod.

"I like my blood inside my body, dipshit. Stop picking a fight with me."

Akira looks away. He was picking a fight. Mostly to avoid thinking about Markus. It was his ex who offered the hybrids a home, even convinced the Queen to let them execute their vampire makers. He gave them agency.

Ironic, considering what he did to Akira.

“And I do not have a thing for blondes," JJ adds. "I don't know why she keeps saying that."

“Cora is blonde.”

“Cora is Cora." His tone doesn't invite argument. "And while we’re on the topic, I’m gonna ask her out. So if you and me got a problem, let’s deal with it now.”

Akira wasn't unaware of JJ's crush, which was probably shitty given how long he strung Cora along. But at the time, it felt like the safest way to have some backup on Jacques's crew. Akira trusted no one, least of all his "coworkers." JJ was always willing to make deals, but everyone else acted like their bond committing crimes for the Devil was supposed to be enough.

"And don't you dare try to offer me a deal. I want you to be honest about Cora because we are friends, not because we have an agreement."

RIght. Justin used to make deals. Now he forced Akira to accept this incredibly imprecise word like it meant anything.

“I don't have any feelings for Cora. Date away. Get married. Have some annoying ass werewolf kids."

"Do you think she'd marry me?" Justin looks hopeful for a second before immediately shaking his head. "Do not answer that."

"Why not?" Slowly, Akira gets to his feet. Savanna had broken three of his ribs before he took her down. He expends the magic to heal them, debating if it’s worth taking care of his cuts and bruises too. "I'm a truth-teller."

"You're an asshole," JJ smirks. "Speaking of which, why didn't you ask Ryker about Vladislaus? Vampires only chase two things: food or power, and Vlad definitely ain't food."

Irritation creeps up Akira’s spine, but he tries to shove it back down. Irritation was a sign of affection; it meant he felt something, and when it came to Markus, Akira’s preference was to feel nothing at all. “Ryker would’ve just fed me some bullshit about why they were tracking him and then tattled back to Markus.”

“But maybe Markus knows what—”

“No!" Akira scrubs a hand over his face. "No. I would have to be a thousand times more desperate.”

“I'm not taking up for him,” JJ vows. “I think he’s a piece of shit. But I also know that you’re worried about Vladislaus. Not having any idea what he is or what he can do is a liability—”

“I’m not employing him!”

“—for your heart.” JJ finishes. “So maybe you suck it up, bury your ego a little bit, and call your ex-boyfriend for help.”

Akira rubs his temples. The ringing started in his ears after he split himself between timelines. Now, it was shifting into a full-on migraine.

"You're not 19 anymore," the wolf says softly.

No, Akira was stronger now and in no danger of being trapped by a careless promise, but he couldn’t help the muscle memory that fueled his resistance. It was a defense mechanism he didn't know how to stop activating. Some days, he thought he would have destroyed himself to leave the Queen's service—an animal in a trap, gnawing his own leg off.

And Markus would have let him.

“Knowing Vladislaus’s origins is not a priority right now," he says instead. "I gotta find a way into the Netherworld, and then I can think about if I should...”

He lets the sentence trail off because he can't finish it. Can't imagine crawling back to his ex-boyfriend for help.

JJ grabs him and pulls him into a hug. "Forget it. There's always another way. You need sleep. Jaron was almost the one taking your eye out. I'm gonna go grab coffee. You want one?"

Akira asks for an espresso and tries not to think about how close that fight really was. He's waiting in the front hall when Vladislaus strolls in, noticeably empty-handed.

"Justin didn't give you my drink?" Akira scowls.

"I didn't think you wanted anything from me; you're so eager to receive affection from everyone else."

Fucking Vladislaus. He should have just healed the cuts and bruises, but Akira had no experience being in a relationship with another fae. Or at least someone fae-like. He'd forgotten all the little nuances that made up courtship, and it was frustrating to be called on them now. "Don't start."

"Start what?" Vlad feigns innocence. "A discussion about the meaning of fidelity? If you're not interested in it, we can just break up."

"Are you for real? How many times do I have to say it? We are not breaking up. I got in a fight with some vampires who were in the way, and I don’t want to waste the magic on cosmetic injuries when we still have so much to deal with.”

“It’s a waste to remove another creature’s mark from your body?” Vlad asks, the edge in his tone like steel. Without waiting for a response, he starts up the stairs.

Akira follows, unsure why he keeps the information about Markus's crew to himself. It's not like it's saving him an argument. Vladislaus resumes his earlier task of needling him over everything and nothing. Somehow, though, they've silently agreed to search this trash heap of a house together.

They poke around in one of the bedrooms. The place is pretty much cleared out except for a mattress, a rickety chair, and an old mirror.

"Why are we here?" Vlad demands, his tone clipped.

It is the tenth time he's asked, and the tenth time Akira has given him the same explanation. “Because I followed my thread. And the next time you ask me this fucking question, Vladislaus, I'm not going to answer."

It's the wrong thing to say. Vlad loves a challenge. He smiles, but there's nothing but menace behind it. "Why. Are. We. Here?"

The ringing in his ears is now constant. “I don’t know,” Akira snaps, “Magic.”

“Magic? That’s your explanation?” Vlad dips his head, ripples passing under his skin as whatever is inside him fights to get out. “I’ve eaten dozens of spellcasters tonight, the secret of magic is in my belly, and I have to tell you, Akira, I am not impressed. Be more specific.”

It's a low blow—an insult that only the fae would take offense to. Akira tries to shake it off, tries to dig deep and find some more patience, but all he can see is red.

And the ringing.

The fucking ringing.

Before he can launch into his tirade, a voice calls out from the mirror.

And not just any voice. 

"Hello?" Alice cries, "Are you there? Can you hear me?"

Finn: I thought Windenburg Island was private property.

Avery: It is. The founder of Kasper Institute purchased it more than fifty years ago.

Finn: Aren’t you worried that I might try to escape?

Avery: It’s below zero out here. I consider you smart enough not to jump into the water.

Finn: I could steal your keycard and escape through the tunnel.

Avery: Hmm~ you could. But I don’t think you will.

Finn: That patient of yours… are they… are they alright?

Avery: You mean Dr. Miller’s patient? They’ll be fine. They weren’t following instructions closely, which resulted in some unexpected side effects.

Finn: Oh… okay. Will they… be kicked out of the study?

Avery: Hm? No. We’re grateful for everyone willing to help us test new medication. If anything, it’s a reminder to make sure participants are following instructions carefully.

Finn: … I see.

Avery: Why are you asking?

Finn: Oh… no particular reason. Just… making conversation, I guess.

author's note: Oh to be blessed with snow instead of suffering through a heatwave.

PREV |  NAVIGATION | NEXT

[TRANSCRIPT]

(Upstairs in the abandoned house next to Quoth Cafe, Darling and Morgan are tied up on the floor, guarded by a vampire. Low groaning sounds as they slowly return to consciousness. More vampires are talking just outside the room. One is carrying a body to an ice freezer. The other two argue over a sim passed out on the floor)

[NIKITA]: Why would we freeze her if she’s not dead? We leave her here; she wakes up later, and we move on.

[ARI]: Because then the blood will be extra fresh. Do I tell you how to eat your meals?

(Downstairs, more vampires wait, talking to each other using telepathy)

[JARON]: I don’t know why you’re complaining.

[SAVANNA]: I’m not complaining. I just want to know why we’re first on the line.  

[AUBREY]: We’re first on the line because we’re the best. And some of us have unfinished business. Ryker, how close are they?

[RYKER]: Just outside the room, in the hall. 

(In the front hall, Akira and JJ prepare for an ambush. They DO NOT have telepathy, but they have been working together for a long time)

[AKIRA]: You go left, I’ll go right. We hit ‘em hard and fast and get them to clear out.

[JJ]: ???

[AKIRA]: Never mind. 

[AKIRA]: Look, whoever doesn’t want to get stabbed should get the fuck out now!

(Meanwhile, in the cafe next door, Vlad and Cora are sitting at a small table, enjoying their coffee and cinnamon rolls)

[VLAD]: So, given your previous romantic entanglement, what exactly would you say is Akira’s trauma around control?

[CORA]: I…what? I’m not going to answer that.

[VLAD]: Fine. Can we talk about your gun? I’m interested in getting access to one.

[CORA]: Why do you need a gun? You ate like 30 witches. 

[VLAD]: 36. 

[CORA]: What even are you?

[VLAD]: Bored. Do you think Akira is forcing me to sit on the sidelines because he wants to break up?

(Back at the abandoned house, the fight continues. Vampires swarm both JJ and Akira. Aubrey leaps through the air, JJ growls as he tackles Savanna, and Jaron runs to her aid. Akira fulfils his promise, drawing out a knife and using it to stab Ryker in the neck)

[AUBREY]: Incoming!

[AKIRA]: Maybe you didn’t hear my announcement, shithead. Or maybe you just like getting stabbed in the neck. 

(In the cafe, Vlad and Cora continue their conversation)

[VLAD]: It’s not that I’m not allowed in the weapons shed, it’s that I need to prove I’m sane before I can access it again.

[CORA]: I don’t think you could ever prove that you’re sane.

[VLAD]: Exactly what I said. Bloodvein claims he gets messages from aliens, and my mother doesn’t stop him if he wants to take a machete for a spin.

(Fighting continues at the house. Akira gets the jump on Savanna after JJ knocks her over. He stabs her in the mouth with his knife as she tries to call for backup. Ryker is in the corner, clutching his neck, panicked gurgles escaping as he waits for the injury to heal. Meanwhile, JJ is trying to hold off Aubrey and Jaron, who have taken a tag team approach. He manages to get one good hit to Jaron’s jaw. Vlad and Cora are still in the cafe. Neither has touched the sticky buns, but their coffee is nearly gone)

[VLAD]: I think one of my biggest issues is that I’ve only had sex once, and I didn’t really like it. The sweat? The breathing? Ugh.

[CORA]: Vlad, I'm begging you. We do not have to talk about—

[VLAD]: But Alice and Akira have unlocked something in me, and now I fear that horniness is going to kill me.

(Cutting back to the house briefly, Jaron has tackled Akira to the ground and is working on getting the knife out of his hand. Aubrey has also brought JJ down and is teasing him as she tries to get her fangs into his neck. Ryker’s throat has healed enough for him to shout for backup)

[JARON]: I told Markus I never liked you!

[AKIRA]: Feeling is mutual. Get offa me!

[AUBREY]: Come on, JJ, just one little bite. I know you have a thing for blondes.

[RYKER]: CODE RED! IT’S AKIRA!!!

(Back in the cafe, Cora wishes she could disappear from this conversation)

[CORA]: I…I don’t think you can die from horniness.

[VLAD]: Well, I can’t really die at all, Cora, it’s a metaphor.

(Upstairs in the abandoned house, the other vampires have gotten the message and are discussing their next move, given the identity of who is attacking downstairs)

[JENNIFER]: Holy shit! Did he just say Akira? I miss that asshole.

[NIKITA]: I don't. Come on, let’s wrap this up. I do not want to hear Markus’s mouth about his precious baby.

(At the cafe, Vlad is finally getting under Cora’s skin in a bad way. They finished their drinks and moved to the couch area. But when he pushes too far, she storms out)

[VLAD]: Do you find the unresolved sexual tension between you and the wolf frustrating, or is that just your kink?

[CORA]: What? I’m not…we’re not…that’s none of your business!

[VLAD]: I think if you fucked you’d feel better. Plus, he seems stable. Take it from me, when you’re unhinged, you need a man who will put up with your shit.

[CORA]: I am not gonna sit here and listen to this.

[VLAD]: Storming off does nothing. I have a deep and unwavering commitment to my friends even at their worst. 

[CORA]: How can we be friends? We just met, and I don’t even think I like you. 

[VLAD]: I would never let a petty thing like your complete disdain for me ruin our friendship. 

[CORA]: Whatever. I am not unhinged. 

[VLAD]: You’re voluntarily helping your ex-boyfriend and acting like the sight of him doesn’t fill you with rage, even though you tried to get a dragon to kill him. 

[CORA]: I’m not acting like I’m not angry! I shot him in the stomach.

[VLAD]: For rage reasons?

[CORA]: No. Because he was being annoying and endangering others. 

[CORA]: Rhygo was mad on my behalf. I paid her not to kill him, because it wasn’t all his fault. I knew what we had wasn’t real.

[VLAD]: Then my point stands. Emotionally speaking, you’re a mess. Fuck that werewolf and let him become the perfect counterbalance to your volatile nature.

(Nikita and Jennifer make their way downstairs in the abandoned house. Chaos awaits them. JJ argues with Nikita and kicks her into a wall. Akira stabs Jaron in the eye. Savanna is out cold. They shout until they get everyone’s attention)

[JJ]: It was one date. And I don’t have a thing for blondes.

[AUBREY]: Two! We went on two dates, you jackass!

[NIKITA]: ENOUGH!!!! Everyone, stand down.

[AKIRA]: Fine. Not like this was a real fight anyway. Ryker’s in the corner, crying like a little bitch, grabbing his stomach. I stabbed you in the neck, jackass.

[RYKER]: Shut up. You conjured a knife, you cheatin’ ass motherf—

[NIKITA]: Grow up, Ryker. And don’t accuse the fae of cheating. Akira, you and the pup agree to end this fight, and we all walk away now.

[JJ]: Really, Nikita? "Pup"? Come on!

[JENNIFER]: That’s what we call you if you can’t survive a third date with Aubrey. Now, Akira, are you taking the deal, or are you gonna fight us for the mortals?

[AKIRA]: What? I don’t give a shit about a bunch of sims. Take your meal and fuck off. I got things to do. 

[NIKITA]: Same old Akira. Hope the Devil’s treating you well. You can always come back home, you know.

[JENNIFER]: Yeah, Markus would be delighted. We’ll give him your regards. He misses you.

“So?” Barbara asked to break the silence.

Mikey sat across from her, running his finger through the condensation on his water glass with his brows pulled tight and his mouth pressed in a thin line like he’s trying to keep the words from spilling out, words he was desperate to tell her only yesterday.

Finally, he looked at her, opened his mouth, and let out a rush of air along with a single word, “So…”

And, like, really? He was really going to torture her like this? She wanted to grab him and shake him, but she shoved the impulse aside because they were in public, and instead pummeled him with questions, “What are we doing here, Mikey? What do you want to talk about? Where have you been for the last month?”

He sat up straighter then, wiped his hands on his jeans and said, “I’ll tell you. I promise. But can we talk about you first?”

“Me?”

“Yeah, how are classes? Work? Are you doing okay?”

She stared at him incredulously. Something weird had been going on with him lately. She didn’t like it. She also didn’t like the implication in his tone. “I’m fine. I am capable functioning without you.”

“I never said you weren’t. I’m just checking in. I know I haven’t been around much, and I’m sorry for that, but it doesn’t mean I don’t still care.”

She deflated a bit at that. At the softness in his eyes and the sincerity in his voice. Sometimes it was impossible to hold on to her anger around him. She nodded slightly, conceding that perhaps a conversation would be more effective than an interrogation. For now. “I’m doing good. A couple of classes have been tough, and it’s been hard to focus on studying. The house is too quiet without you there. But it’s nothing I can’t handle. Mostly, I just miss you.”

“I miss you too.” He gave her a small smile that she couldn’t help but return.

Their waitress, a bubbly woman with dark hair pulled high into a messy bun, showed up then. She set their tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches in front of them with a smile and told them to give her a holler if there’s anything else they need before disappearing into the familiar hustle and bustle of the diner.

“So,” Mikey said around a bite of his sandwich, “are you going to tell me about that guy at the library?”

Barbara stopped mid-opening a packet of saltines and looked up at him. He crooked an eyebrow at her, and she thought about playing dumb, but knew it wouldn’t get her very far. She crushed the crackers into her soup and stirred them around as she answered, “Nothing to tell really. I don’t know him. I just think he’s… interesting.”

“Interesting?”

“Yeah. I mean, he goes to Britechester, but he studies at the public library four days a week rather than the university library. He’s studying microbiology, but he’s always pouring through books about Selvadorada. The culture, geography, rare plants, myths, all kinds of stuff. He’s so focused and smart and quiet. So quiet. I’ve never heard him speak. But he stares off sometimes and I can tell his mind is just spinning with thoughts, and I want to know every one of them. I want to be the person he tells all his thoughts to.” She stopped. Her face felt like it was on fire. She hadn’t meant to say that last part out loud.

Thankfully, Mikey didn’t try to embarrass her. He just breathed a laugh through his nose and said, “That’s quite a crush.”

“Yeah, well,” she shrugged, a gesture of nonchalance that was doomed to fail given her previous statement.

“Are you going to do anything about it?”

“I don’t know.” She hesitated for a moment before deciding to continue. He was, after all, the only person she could talk to about this. “He always has this little toy car with him.”

Mikey froze, but didn’t say anything.

“He puts it on the desk while he works. Sometimes he holds it, running his thumb over the tires. But most the time, it just sits there. I think it could work.”

He sighed, “Why can’t you just talk to him like a normal person?”

“I will. I just want to get a sense of him first. If you were smart, you’d do the same thing with Katie.”

“Her name is Catherine. And I’m not going to do that. You never should have done that.”

“I’m glad I did. Mikey, if you felt what I felt, you’d understand.”

“It was just a dream! It doesn’t mean anything. This, right here,” he knocked on the table as if to make a point, “you and me, awake, this is what’s real.”

“I know that. But this being reality doesn’t make dreams meaningless. They’re a window.”

“Not the way you think. They’re memories. Distorted and jumbled. They can be interpreted a million different ways. But most of all, they’re private. We don’t belong in other people’s heads.”

She slumped. She couldn’t argue with him on that, not without sounding awful, and he knew it. But that didn’t mean she believed there wasn’t a middle ground. Because, selfishly, she did want to get a sense of Gabriel. And after spending thirty seconds in Catherine’s head, she felt it was important now more than ever. Because people manipulate, and they lie. But dreams, distorted and jumbled though they could be, were honest.

They finished their meal in silence, saying nothing until their waitress came by and they thanked her as she stacked their dishes and took them away.

“So, are you going to tell me where you’ve been or what?” Barbara finally asked because she wasn’t going to let him get away with leaving without fulfilling that promise.

Mikey nodded and leaned forward on his elbows, “Okay, but I need you to promise me that you’ll listen before you react. Set your judgments aside because I really need you to be happy for me. Or at least supportive.”

She didn’t know what to make of that. She scanned his worried expression. What could possibly… Oh no. Oh no. “Oh my god, Mikey, please tell me Catherine isn’t pregnant.”

“What? No! Is that really the first place your mind goes? We haven’t even… done… that.”

She laughed, mostly in relief, “What are you, saving yourself for marriage?” She’d meant it as a joke, but the way Mikey looked at her told her that was exactly what he was doing, and she laughed again, “Seriously? She does know you’re not a virgin, right?”

He sighed, that exasperated one she knew so well, the one she sometimes thought he reserved only for her, “Yes. She knows that. So does her father.”

She nearly choked, “I’m sorry, what?!”

“It’s not… He’s on the church council, so it’s unavoidable. Listen, that’s what I’m trying to tell you. I’ve been in Willow Creek, preparing to join the church. I told them everything… about my life so far. Prayed. Repented. It’s a whole process of shedding the life of sin and stepping into a new one. To walk in the Light of God.”

Barbara was speechless.

She knew Catherine was religious. She knew Mikey had been going to church with her on weekends in an attempt to be supportive. But this. This, she didn’t know what to do with. She’d never heard him talk like this before. They grew up in a secular household. Their parents were academics. Atheists even. Though, it’s not like she couldn’t understand. At least a little bit. When Dawn passed away, even Barbara questioned things. Wanted to believe in something more. Some grand design or purpose. But she knew there were no concrete answers to be had, and organized religion always gave her the ick, so she settled comfortably in agnosticism.

“B? Will you say something, please?”

She opened her mouth. Closed it again. Her voice trapped between his need for support and her need to ask him if he’d lost his fucking mind. But then one thought came barreling through in a rush, “You told them everything?”

He closed his eyes, as if he couldn’t bear to look at her when he said, “Everything.”

“Traveling?”

He nodded and opened his eyes again. “But it’s okay. I promise.”

“How is that okay?”

“They’re going to help me. Make sure it never happens again.”

“What? How? Why? I… Mikey, how many times do I have to tell you? This is a gift. It’s not a curse.”

“I disagree.”

He said it so simply that she didn’t know how to respond.

He reached out and put a hand over hers, “My baptism is on Sunday. I really want you to be there. Listen to them. Just once. And I promise you’ll understand.”

The depth of sincerity in his eyes terrified her for reasons she couldn’t quite understand. She didn’t know how she was supposed to react. Of course, he was allowed to believe in whatever he wanted to believe in. But who the fuck were these people, and could they really take away his ability to Travel?

She already felt like they were growing apart, moving in two different directions, and it made her sad, angry, maybe a little jealous, but this… This was different. She felt like a part of her was being ripped away and she couldn’t take it.

She pulled away from him and shook her head, “I’m can’t. I’m sorry. I have to go.”

And she left.

Prev // Next

The other shoe was dropping. Ben knows as soon as he inhales a breath. At its core, magic was a turbulent storm. It wanted to whip things into a frenzy and then soak up the still quiet that only came after everything had been torn down.

Later, there would be the acrid scent of death and destruction. But for now, the air smelled sweet, the potential for chaos delicious and tempting. Even creatures with the barest hint of magic would feel hunger curling their bellies.

But something massive had to be in the works because if Titania was around, then so too was Akira.

Making his way to a quieter corner of the bar, Ben dials a number on his phone. Magic liked a conduit, and sometimes it worked better in a tangible form. “I know this was you,” he says, by way of greeting.

The Kibo siblings were generally seen as egotistical little maniacs who stabbed first and sometimes didn’t even bother to ask a question. And that was true. They were a menace in every timeline they had ever existed in.

But Titania was brilliant; the fae had endured not because of their creators but because of her. 

And Akira wasn’t arrogant so much as he was singularly focused. A thousand years alone on a corpse of a timeline that the Divine couldn't fully cull had carved everything else out of him.

All he wanted was to get back to the two creatures he pledged his heart to—to fulfill his promise to take care of them. Fae as he was, the errant demigod would not go back on his word. Ben had only ever seen that level of resolve in one other creature. 

“Good evening to you, too, Ferryman,” the Devil’s drawl is slow, almost playful. “Or should I say Head of Security? Director of Investments? It’s hard to keep up with your various career changes.”

“A witch don’t need a wand to remember things.”

“I’m not clear on what that has to do with me,” Jacques replies. The Devil didn’t lie. He and the God of Sleep were bound to the same laws they made for their creations. Still, they were both adept at dodging the truth when it suited them.  

“Come on, mate, you of all creatures is clear on your on your role. You running a side plot while the world is ending? Maybe I can help.”

The Devil senses the offer for what it is—a lie. “Very cute, Ferryman. Help with what?”

“Don’t be coy!” Ben laughs, but it comes out hollow. “Level with me. I know about the Wand of the Forgotten. There’s no bloody reason for witches to give a shit about a thing like that.”

Jacques chuckles in that way only a primeval creature, a Premade, could ever laugh. Ben was old, yes, but the Devil was ancient. “What an odd declaration to make.”

“I know a scheme when I see one. Come on, you've got to be involved! Can't give me one little piece of information?” His voice cracks. Immediately, Ben knows he’s overplayed his hand. 

Defeated, he sets the phone down on the table and contemplates ordering a shot. He can’t help but picture tossing that shot in the Devil’s face. 

“I can feel that, you know.” Jacques’s tone is mildly disapproving. “Such violent thoughts, and here I was believing you held me in high esteem.”

It's enough to force Ben to crack a smile. If anyone understood what it was to have your magic go from barely tolerated to high demand, it was him.

“I still do. But I’m not a fool. A drunk, maybe, but not stupid. Melisandre loves a trinket, but she’d never bother running down a wand like that for herself. Not unless she was going to use it as payment.”

“I don’t hear a question," the Devil replies, nonchalantly.

“I’m asking you why you want it!” Ben growls. “What do you remember that we all forgot? Akira is here, and that’s not by accident. Don’t piss on my boots, Atropos, and tell me it's raining.”

Jacques scoffs at the use of his true name. But when he speaks, his voice isn’t unkind. “You know as well as I do, apocalypses are never just one thing.”

Ben swipes at his cheeks, surprised to find tears. Gods, it was always like this with the Devil. Your desires came pouring out. Your truths, too. “We are shadows and shells, old friend, a diminishing proposition. We just want quiet and a chance to pretend to live. This world barely believes in gods, and maybe they shouldn’t.” 

“Not all of us,” Jacques says, but it offers little comfort. Alice was an exception. No other god had passed on the mantle. Something was coming for her, and it would end this timeline well before anyone was ready.

“At least tell me you have a plan.”

The Devil scoffs, but doesn’t answer.

“A plan that is more than just hoping Akira found his fate. You can’t leave it all on him!” Ben’s tone is caustic. It’s not clear whether he’s accusing himself or Jacques, because they both knew the truth:

Alice was a marvel, but her power was ten thousand screams when what you needed was a whisper. And most creatures wouldn’t set foot near Vladislaus, not willingly, at least. He'd devoured whole worlds on a whim, and there was no telling what belief had twisted him into now. Even the fae spoke of him like a boogeyman, calling him by his works and not his title, like he and his ilk did not belong to them.

It had to be left to Akira. For all his flaws, he was an unstoppable force of sheer will, stubborn in a way that the old gods were too tired for—that Ben was too tired for.

“We like this world,” he says softly, “But I worry we can’t be bothered to fight to keep it.”

“You’re too young to be so jaded.” Jacques’s admonishment is gentle. “I’ve followed my thread, B’Ollithiranon, son of Nyx and Erebus. It’ll work out. Now, if you don’t mind, I have an appointment. Enjoy the apocalypse while it lasts.” 

When the line goes dead, Ben tries very hard not to think about his mother, whom he ignores, or the other name Jacques gave for a god that he no longer remembers.

PREV |  NAVIGATION | NEXT

Avery: Are you sure you don’t want me to help with these books? They look heavy.

Nico: It’s okay. I’m just glad Dr. Nobrowski - ahh - I mean, Alexander, allowed me to borrow them.

Rebecca: Dr. McFarnō, good afternoon! I just heard from Dr. Storm. He’s still stuck in a meeting.

Rebecca: He suggested we start with the examination, and he’ll join the call as soon as possible. Most of Thursday’s results should be uploaded to the database by now.

Avery: Let’s see… Most biomarkers came back as expected. He’s a little low on vitamin D, but that could easily be due to the season…

Nico: Uhh… I think… Finn is… crying?

[15 minutes later]

Finn: It wasn't necessary for you to cancel the meeting. You'll have to repeat it anyway.

Avery: Hmm~ technically, that's correct. But you were visibly uncomfortable.

Finn: ... I'm not weak!

Avery: I never said that, did I?

(...)

Avery: Sunny, come on. How many times have I told you? No wandering around the office.

Avery: Okay, okay. We'll go for a walk. Finn, give me a second to grab you some proper outerwear.

Finn: ... I'm coning too?

The kitchen was obviously not an ideal location for a corpse, but Amos Gibbons had been paranoid. Anytime he was in the same room as Ben, his soul refused to shut up, prattling on about everything from the problems with the drinking water to a conspiracy about aliens and some military base. 

With barely a wisp of magic, Ben flicks him out of the way. Amos's body careens into the wall, barely missing the television and jostling the microwave.

Instantly, the neighbor, Mrs. Hobson, bangs on the wall. “For the love of llamas, Amos! This is the last time you pull this shit! I’m calling the cops!”

Ben sighs. Partly because the fridge is empty of alcohol, and partly because of the yelling. This was definitely a sign that it was time to find another apartment. Preferably, one large enough that he and the dead could co-exist peacefully, driven by the shared goal of Ben avoiding rent and them getting a few final tasks done while hiding from the reapers.

Although Amos’s task list was extensive. Ben had long given up any pretense of working on it. Maybe that’s why the man didn’t even try to avoid making a sound.

Ignoring the insistent tug of his ex-roommate’s soul—Amos was not yet a ghost—Ben manages to dress quickly. He avoids the cops with something the fae would call glamour, but he simply calls a mortal aversion to anything with a whiff of the uncanny.

It’s obvious from their less-than-enthusiastic knock that the only reason they responded so quickly was to stop Mrs. Hobson from calling every five minutes. Lucky for them, they were about to get their wish.

Her doctor told her all that yelling was going to give her a heart attack, and he was right. 

The ripple over his skin from Patricia L. Hobson’s untimely passing is enough to get Ben moving, winding through the streets of Evergreen Harbor. 

As he walks, he wonders if Alice has been to the Netherworld and if it feels like home yet. Realms were a loophole the Devil negotiated. They lay adjacent to the flow of time, which made them exempt from culling and the Divine’s influence. He’d built the Netherworld lovingly. It was a hodgepodge, sure, and there were some (many) unfinished bits. But it was a respite from an ever-changing world. 

Oh, but what if she hated the Netherworld?

This Alice was not the same as the last Alice, or even the first Alice he knew. Her every incarnation was a shadow of her first self until now, so many timelines later, she was a muted version of that girl from Strangerville who shared a body with a god and got a never-ending loop of reincarnation for her trouble. 

Ben hadn’t meant to pass on his godhood. At first, her body was simply a hiding place. The target on his back, combined with his (allegedly) annoying personality, made lying low a necessity.

But they got along, and he didn’t want her to die when he left, so he asked for help. The Devil worked out a way around the divine laws. A few whispered vows and quick bursts of dark magic later, and Ben had a new job, and Alice was the god who took his place.

—A living god, who could still technically die (Ben had sort of failed on that part), but at least when she did, she belonged to herself, and so she came back. 

Actually, it was sort of great. Alice’s rebirth never appeared until sometime in the 20th century. It usually took her decades to even figure out that something was going on, and by that time, Vladislaus had usually found her, so staying alive wasn’t a problem.

It was true that she and Vlad were usually at the center of the apocalypse. It had been that way since Akira disappeared. But gods understood that she was the key to even the barest amount of stability, so they intervened to protect her.

Okay, yes, sometimes they had tried to kill her, but that hadn’t happened for many timelines. These days, they tended to get along by completely ignoring each other and eking out some approximation of “living.” Did that mean he had been effectively getting divorced for the equivalent of an eon? Sure. But Ben was still pretty attached to his ex-wife.

He was a mess, but he loved Elmyra. Not despite her being the Goddess of War, but because of it.

And yes, he slept with Omar’s husband, but a man had needs, and everyone knew they were on the verge of falling out anyway. They’d been living separately for ages, and frankly, Bromios (Bro, as he preferred to be called now) was objectively gorgeous and, as the God of Revelry, a lot more fun than Omar. It might sound like the God of the Sun would have a friendly disposition, but he does not.

And anyway, Omar was definitely having an affair with some mortal—Calvin or Cameron or whatever.

Listen, Ben knows he did a shitty thing, okay? But he spent most of his experience desperately trying to find his footing. He couldn’t settle into a world anymore unless he was numb, and while he had experimented with a drug habit in a few timelines, he really was trying to give that up.

For whatever reason, he kept waiting for the other shoe to drop, even though he knew that nothing truly earth-shattering was ever going to—

Wait.

He glances down at his drink but surreptitiously slides his gaze over to a group of sims watching the TV and placing bets. Why were they betting on a game that already happened? 

Just as he’s trying to figure that out, a woman bursts into the bar. That alone isn’t odd, but the tiny motes of time magic slipping from her shoulders are.

“Is Titania here?” Her voice is panicked. 

“Kibo?” the bartender laughs as he continues pouring drinks. “Small thing? Perky tits. Bad attitude? She dances at Desire on the weekends. Better tips.”

The woman falters. “Y-your…your ears.”

“Uh, yeah, obviously, you’ve seen a fae if you know Titania. What is your problem?”

"Besides, you objectifying her for literally no reason? For your information, I know her from the library," she snaps.

"Yeah, and she is also a dancer with great tits. If I had great tits, I'd work at Desire too. Money is gross but necessary, and you really can't replicate the party atmosphere anywhere else. It's good eating." He shakes his head. "Mortals are such prudes."

The woman mumbles to herself—something Ben can't quite make out. She seems to be handling the information about her friend well, but then she turns and sees him.

He lowers the bottle from his mouth. “Don’t scream. You’ve just seen a time loop, so now you can see—”

She screams.

“—Everything,” he finishes as she runs out the door.

Barbara’s head slumped down for the third time in as many minutes. She jerked it back up with a sigh and tried to refocus on her textbook. History had never been her favorite subject, but this was the first time her solid ‘A’ average had been threatened. She had never got a ‘B’ in her life, and she wasn’t going to start now. It was a slippery slope. With a shake of her head, she looked up at the clock to check the time. 4:17 She smiled to herself. Gabriel would be there soon. The realization filled her with renewed energy, and she returned to her textbook, refusing to look toward the entrance.

If she was caught watching the doors when he walked in, he may think she was waiting for him, and that would be far too embarrassing. Because she wasn’t waiting for him. Not really. Not like that. She just appreciated the consistency of his routine. She’d grown to anticipate the moment he walked through the door. The way he would stop at the same shelf to pull the same books that he returned the evening before and sit at the desk by the far window to continue working on… whatever it was he was working on. She’d never had the courage to ask. Or to speak to him at all, for that matter. He didn’t seem the type that wanted to be bothered.

The only reason Barbara knew Gabriel’s name, and the fact that he went to her school, was because she happened to mention him to Imogen, her friend and former roommate, who somehow found his student profile within minutes of Barbara describing him.

One minute Barbara was going on about his dark hair and eyes, and the way he tended to cover his mouth with his hand—gripping it tight with his brow furrowed, or scraping his thumbnail along his lower lip as he stared off with unfocused eyes—and the next minute, those eyes were staring back at her from Imogen’s screen. “That him?” she had asked.

“Yes. How did you do that?”

“It’s a gift,” Imogen shrugged like it was nothing, “His name is Gabriel Russo. He’s a grad student, majoring in Microbiology.”

When Barbara caught herself daydreaming yet again, she stretched and chanced another glance at the clock. 4:21 Apparently, this day was never going to end. Giving up, she pushed her textbook aside and decided to start scanning the books from the return bin instead. Might as well work while, you know, at work.

The doors opened a minute later, briefly letting in a draft of cool air and the smell of wet concrete. It was raining again. Not a heavy rain, just a quiet drizzle. Barbara smiled to herself, waiting for Gabriel to walk by before she would allow herself to glance up and watch him navigate his now familiar path through the shelves. But he didn’t walk by. Instead, soft footsteps walked closer and stopped behind her.

She was about to turn around and ask if the person needed help when they knocked on the counter. Three knocks, to be precise, in quick succession. Followed by two slow knocks. Left then right. Michael. Mikey, to her. Her twin brother. And the last person she wanted to deal with right now.

She turned to him, her face going from customer-service-smile to you’re-dead-to-me-glower so fast that she wasn’t sure if she was successful. For good measure, she added a succinct, “Fuck off,” and turned her chair back around.

“B,” he said, sounding more exasperated than he had any right to.

“I’m sorry,” he tried again when she didn’t respond.

Barbara went back to scanning the books, one by one, “I’m working.”

“If you’d answer my calls, I wouldn’t have to bug you at work.”

Now that pissed her off.

She whirled around on him, no doubt she was giving him the full force of her glower this time, “We live together, asshole. You could come home some time.”

He took a deep breath as if he needed to gather strength before saying, “Can we just talk, please?”

“I’m working,” she said again through gritted teeth.

“Can we meet for lunch tomorrow?”

“Depends. Is Katie going to be there?” She infused all the bitterness she felt into the name. It was rare these days for her brother to be without his girlfriend. Barbara wouldn’t be surprised if she was waiting for him outside, and the thought made her tense.

He rubbed a hand over his face and sighed, exasperated all over again, “No, Catherine will not be there. Just you and me.”

Barbara was going to dig in deeper, but was distracted when the doors opened and Gabriel walked in. She stared for a beat longer than she intended and he glanced at her. Not just glanced. He smiled. Okay, more like the smallest quirk of one corner of his mouth, but it felt like the sun bursting through her cloud-covered day and made her heart trip over itself.

She looked back at Mikey, but he was looking curiously at Gabriel as he walked away, and she wanted nothing more in that moment than for Mikey to leave.

“Fine,” she said, pulling his attention back to her. “Lunch. Tomorrow.”

“Who’s that?” he asked.

“He’s no one.”

“Liar.”

“He’s none of your business.”

“That’s how it’s going to be now?”

“Yep.”

He sighed yet again in that way of his. As if talking to her had depleted all his energy stores and then some. “Noon. Our usual spot.”

“Can’t wait,” Barbara said without an ounce of sincerity.

Prev // Next

Ben (he hadn’t been B’Ollithiranon in a very long time) tosses the phone down and slides back on the bed. He lied to Parker, not about Sulani—the end for his friend was coming, but they still had time to travel. He lied about Melisandre. She might’ve been the worst creature he’d known in all his long life.

Although “life” was kind of a misnomer. Ben wasn’t alive because he couldn’t die.

No god could. 

He lets out a dry laugh at the thought. The gods petitioned the Divine for the chance once. The Creators, though, were adamantly against it. The dead belonged to the God of Death, and no god could belong to another god. The imbalance of power would unmake the world. 

They did not mention the imbalance of power that already existed by their own action. 

They were so eager to make sims, so enamored of their mortal creation that they did not hesitate to let the oldest of the gods create more beings. Spellcasters, werewolves, vampires, fae, mermaids, and everything in between wreaked havoc at first. In searching for the right tool to force the gods to rein in their progeny, the Divine Creators landed upon death.

Every living thing dies, they decreed. Even supernatural creatures with their long life spans or immortality could be welcomed into Death’s embrace, could belong to it. But gods did not live. If they faded, if they were culled or forgotten, then gods did not get death. 

Gods got nothing.

The message was clear: control your spawn, or they will go where you cannot follow. The message the gods absorbed was to paint a target on Ben’s back. 

The most egregious part was that necromancy was a near-useless power when Ben was young. Death was for clearing out the harvest, and resurrection was for bringing it back. He had been a gardener, not a god.

Although no one was a god at first. Sims and Supernaturals came up with that. When there were only a few beings with enough power to do the impossible, it made sense to call them gods. But in the old tongue, the dead one that no one speaks anymore, the word for “god” didn’t even exist.

In that language of Ben’s youth, when there weren’t just a couple like him, there were hundreds of thousands; they were called Made. Premade, if they were very old. 

Existence wasn’t a curse then. That came because of the war. 

Ben was a child when it happened; he’s sure of that. He can remember Somnus, the God of Sleep, snatching him up and fleeing a burning tower. But even Diego, as Somnus now called himself, couldn’t recall what the tower looked like or what the war was even about.

The Divine Creators had broken apart the very essence of time and space and wove a new set of circumstances. As a result, the Made and the Premade like him—the ones that endured—were left with memories that functioned like half-finished autobiographies written by someone who was largely incoherent. 

The Divine called it culling, but that was a pretty set of syllables to hide the horror. In the new timeline, the world was similar but also different in ways the Made and Premade could not articulate. If there were less of them, if there were buildings missing, or rituals gone, no one could confirm it. The loss they felt was an unnamed placeholder. 

Now, it had been ages since that first timeline—that first world. It was hard to know how many he’d been through. Hundreds? Thousands? 

Once the world was full of gods, and now there were just under twelve, with a few demigods and aberrations thrown in for good measure. Some timelines, they avoided each other completely. In other timelines, they were so driven by rage or ennui that they created any number of horrors. Hence, the plagues and the Dark Ages and their most recent monstrous achievement, Operation Eternal Flame. 

What a mess this existence was. 

Ben lets the dark thoughts wash over him a little while longer before he hauls himself out of bed. He heads for the kitchen to grab a barley bale or six.

Sober was no way to endure an endless existence. 

PREV |  NAVIGATION | NEXT

[low chatter and the occasional hissing of the espresso machine filling the room]

Grace: So~ what are your plans for your birthday? It's next Friday, isn't it?

Nasja: Probably nothing, considering Darren is still stuck in Strangerville.

Grace: What?! No way! Alex, please tell me you aren't as boring as your sister!

Alexander: Huh? Oh, sorry… What did you just ask?

Grace: Your plans? For your birthday? Next Friday?

Alexander: Nothing in particular. I might take the day off, depending on my schedule.

Grace: How can both of you be so boring? It's the last birthday in your thirties! How about… I throw you a party? Nothing too fancy. Just us and a few others going out for drinks. I could ask Tom and Koji to join. Oh - and (…)

Grace: So~ what do you say? Wouldn't that be fun?

Alexander: If you insist…

(…)

Alexander: Nasja, can you pick Tao up? I promise I'll join you in a minute. I just need to make a quick call.