THE VAST DIVIDED SKIES WE'RE MEANT TO FLY!

{ ✩ }

"Wh--Joshua, kiddo, you were supposed to start cleaning up your toys...”

It was getting rather late in the evening, now, which meant that it was time to clean things up and get ready for bedtime before Dr. Freeman got home. Well, it seemed that Joshua had gotten distracted with something while putting his coloring supplies away, and now he was sprawled out on the floor with a good amount of his toys again.

Laine sighs and sits on her legs beside him, trying to keep her burning eyes focused. “C’mon, kiddo, you know the rules. It’s time to get ready for bed, yeah? So that means you gotta put your toys away. Besides, your dad’s gonna be home any--”

Click.

“--minute.” Fuck. Laine gives a sheepish, tired laugh and a wave to the figure in the doorway. “H-hi, Dr. Freeman...”

“I don’t think it’s called a-”

Before Gordon can finish his sentence, Bubby is chucking the bowling ball as if it were a baseball down the lane. He instinctively flinches and looks away- Yeah no he’s not looking at whatever destruction that causes.

To his surprise, though, there’s no screams of terror that follow this action, or breaking or glass or- anything other than the sound of the pins being knocked down. And, well, the resounding crash at the end of the lane- But that’s fine. Probably.

He blinks.

“That’s-”

“Bubby that’s not how you’re supposed to throw it.”

{ ✩ }

“I knocked down the pins, didn’t I? Isn’t that the point?” There are, in fact, multiple pins knocked over, with on the 6, 7, and 10 pins still standing. (Wasn’t there a name for just the 7 and 10 pins being up by themselves? He couldn’t remember.)

A huff, and Bubby crosses his arms.

“Well if you know so much about bowling, then you do it!” Bubby plucks a bowling ball from the rack and offers it to Gordon, a silent follow-up to the verbal challenge to show that Bubby isn’t bluffing.

A melody of whistling, backed by the quick beat of a hammer. A very simple repair job; just a hole in the roof that needed to be covered. How a hole in their roof even got that bad is beyond her, but at least it would keep her occupied for an hour or so.

Down she goes to grab a few extra nails--she underestimated how many she would need, so there’s an extra trip--and back up the old, rickety ladder, dulled and greened by age and exposure. It creaks and bends beneath her weight; they really needed to replace this soon. Any more use and the think would shatter.

Laine crawls back onto the roof, and her foot catches on one of the rungs. One wrong movement--and the ladder falls sideways, down, down, until it hits the driveway and breaks on impact.

“... Are you FUCKING kidding me--”

“Right, uh- Sorry. Kinda just…Assumed cause, y’know, Black Mesa doesn’t seem like the kind of facility to have a whole ass bowling team or whatever. So. Yeah.”

…Come to think of it, actually, that wouldn’t surprise him at all.

“But! It’s super simple!” He says, picking up one of the bowling balls and handing it to Bubby.

“Roll the ball, knock down the pins at the end of the…aisle? Do they call it aisles? The slick floor thingy that we’re not allowed to walk on. Just do that and you’re golden!”

{ ✩ }

“I think it’s called a ‘road’, Gordon.”

Bubby takes the bowling ball from Gordon, only to have to scramble not to drop it--it was heavier than expected.

“The fuck do they make these things out of?” He examines it a moment through squinted eyes--sleek, heavy, hollow but thick outer layer--before turning his attention to the holes. Index, middle, thumb--no, that didn’t feel right. Not as much control. Index, ring, thumb. Yes, that felt more comfortable in his hands.

“Alright, let’s give this a go, then...”

Bubby steps forward...

... and pitches the bowling ball like a baseball down the lane. The good news is that he does knock down a majority of the pins! The bad news is that there’s a resounding crash somewhere at the end of the lane. It’s fine, probably,

“How’s that?”

government assigned muses | accepting

WOULD I: YES / MAYBE???? / NO???

HAVE I EVER BEFORE: YES / NO

ICON & WRITING SAMPLE (IF YES TO EITHER PREV. QUESTION):

{ ✩ }

“Daddy, Daddy! Watch what I can do!”

Joshua Freeman hoists himself up, up, up onto the back of the bed. He’s still a bit dizzy from earlier endeavors--practice makes perfect!--but his entire body is buzzing with energy. Like bees! Bees were good, right? They were pretty and fuzzy! He’s not fuzzy, though. Is he pretty? He’s not sure! He’s not yellow and black like bees are, though, so maybe he’s not.

... What was he doing?

“What’s up Jo--” Oh, right! He wanted to show his daddy something! His dad stood in the doorway, with that funny look he sometimes got whenever Joshua was about to do something cool. “Josh--Joshie, why are you standing on the headboard?”

“Watch, watch!” Joshua pumps his arms, and then jumps up and flips backwards in the air!

“JOSHUA--”

The bed creaks when he lands on it, back first, and he giggles excitedly, even when his daddy scoops him up in his arms.

“Josh - Josh, are you okay?!”

Joshua laughs, flapping his hands. “I did it, I did it!”

His dad let out a shaky breath. “Y-yeah, you sure did, kiddo... But don’t do that again, okay? That’s really dangerous, you could get hurt.”

Joshua makes a “pbbbbblt” sound with his mouth, pouting in reluctant defeat. “Okaaaay.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

  “I’m perfectly alright, G -” Coomer cuts off the last word coming out of his mouth and seems a little bothered by it, which only serves to make what he’s saying seem less convincing. He smiles, although only for a few seconds, an uneasy look about him in general.

“Just a tad lost! Could you remind me where I am, please?”

{ ✩ }

Well! Clearly this man is... not alright. Did something happen to him? None of it was Dede’s business as to why, of course, but perhaps he just needed a bit of help?

“We are by the library, sir. Is... there anywhere you need to be? I know the area very well, I could help you get there!

Barney slowly nods, hand shooting up to tap his mouth guard in a contemplative gesture. His eyes remain on her, similar to a chicken’s head never moving with it’s body. The mouth guard whirls, humming like a fluorescent light. Internally, Barney’s interface marks every subtle movement Deana makes, saving it to his mind and backing it to a cloud. “ Noted. ” He says after a beat, deeming her statement truthful. His hand lowers, fingers lace.

His cyan rings expand then deflate like a shutter camera.

“ Am I correct in assuming there is a limit? For example, you couldn’t summon a spirit from the Americas, or even a mile or two away ? ” The mouth guard whirls again, readying the visual lie detector.

{ ✩ }

She can’t help as her eyes flicker to that odd mouthpiece, the shiny collar of the Combine’s guard dog. Speak no evil, speak no peace, speak nothing but the Combine dogma drilled into his brain. It was the story of every human turned Combine. But this was Barney Calhoun, was it not? Deana had heard whispers from the Resistance. Word travels fast. And the fall of Calhoun had marked a very, very dark moment for them.

“Yes and no. I can summon any spirit from anywhere, hypothetically. The further they are from me, however, and the more powerful they are, the more difficult it will be to summon them. It may be outright impossible to summon a particular spirit due to their strength and distance. I myself have only been strong enough to summon a spirit from a neighboring country, and even then, not for very long. These factors will also play into the physical and mental toll it will take on me. As a point of reference, the strongest spirit I ever summoned left me unconscious for three days.”