Carrying On

Yet he called Diamond to avoid doing just that. Sucking in a breath he held it as he talked. Yes to soften the transition. That would have made sense.

And now that Archer was thinking on it, this was the type of stove that was prevalent before he was trapped at the O.D.I.B. Before he was changed. Back when he was still an everyday run of the mill human.

The sudden realization poured a sinking feeling over his shoulders. Weighing him down to the ground enough to make his knees feel weak. He fell back against the kitchen counter just in time to hear Diamond's request.

If he wasn't so unsteady he might have cut him off immediately. Diamond felt he had to explain, Archer understood that feeling. It had become such a strong kinship he couldn't deny that in some way, they were cosmically linked forever.

A band of brothers.

He coughed on the tail end of the drink as Archer joked about the bottle. Setting the mug down with a clatter, he muffled most of the fit into one wrist.

Fuck. It wasn’t like it was a surprise, and Archer sounded lighthearted enough about it, but for a moment Diamond quailed. Was he really strong enough to do this, tonight?

Well… he’d damned well better be, hadn’t he.

“Been there,” Diamond rasped, and while he tried to match Archer’s light tone he wasn’t entirely sure he succeeded. “And yeah. ‘Course I can find a way. Magic’s come back a lot faster than the seizure’s have calmed down, and if all else fails I have some folk I can call for a ride.” Of course, he’d much rather take the easier option than go around calling in favors at—he squinted at the oven—three-thirty in the morning.

Besides, he wanted to be there now. Teleportation held far greater appeal, however much he probably should still be taking it easy.

Diamond briefly retrieved his mug for a more business-like sip, set it back down, and shuffled over to the first aid kit on the counter beside the front door. He pinched his phone between his ear and shoulder and fished his rescue pendant out from the kit. 

He slowed down as Diamond mentioned the seizures. His lips grew tight and he covered his mouth with a palm to keep from making any sort of sympathetic coo.

He remembered them. His eyes slowly unfocused from his kitchen floor as he saw them again. Diamond twitching on the floor while being attacked. The vampire just at his throat ready to tear it out and he was trapped in this... this... convulsion. Shocked from the collar and burned.

Even as he saw him, he heard him talking. Speaking in soft tones, unbothered, as if nothing was amiss.

Right.

Right.

It wasn't.

Again.

His hand began to shake again as he lifted the warm glass to his lips. Struggling to take a smooth sip. It's bite made him cough and he wiped the dribble from his lips. Now making a deliberate point not to look to that part of the floor, as if the vision would reappear.

".... coffee...." That actually sounded like a better idea. He eyed the machine with longing as if he could will it to make itself.

"I... well... I am more adapt at breaking things than, fixing them." He stated it like a joke but lacked the humor in his tone.

Another sip of his drink and his throat was feeling warmer.

"The stove is from the 1930s I... believe. It's a Chambers." He turned to the vintage piece. "It wasn't mine originally but I brought it in. Absolutely inefficient." For some reason, that made him laugh.

He hummed and stirred the contents of his mug, relaxing as Archer’s brief cough ceased. The first swallow burned. “Mm. Yes. I have a tin of the instant stuff that I usually use for camping. It’s a poor substitute if you want it to taste like regular coffee, of course, but… I like it in its own right.”

His fingers tightened around the mug as Archer broke into laughter over the stove. On a different day, in a different mood, and perhaps if Archer had not just spoken so somberly of failing to fix things, Diamond might have laughed along. It was the kind of thing that he could often find enjoyment in ribbing a friend about. 

Tonight it just made his heart ache. 

“I think it’s that it helps, sometimes,” he said, “to have something… maybe not even familiar, but at least something less different. Similar — I mean, old enough to soften the transition, or to… just one thing you don’t have to learn new, again, not just yet. Even when it’s an inconvenience.” 

Diamond had clung to far more irrational things than a dysfunctional old stove, at times. 

With a shaky breath Diamond realized that what he very badly wanted, in this moment, was to hug Archer. The longing found a voice before he could think better of it: “Could I come over?”

"They have a big coop I built them." He tried to remember back to those weeks. Something different than the horrid memories. "It's fenced in but... during the day I let them out." He swallowed thickly and attempted to push himself to stand.

Perhaps nibbling something or having some water might help to ease his nerves. "..... or a drink..." He muttered, speaking his thoughts to himself outloud.

Unaware of his mistake he mumbled onward. Walking through his dark house and slowly descending the stairs. "They are tough birds. Mozart is the resident snake killer." He laughed lightly as he reached the landing.

He stood there for a few moments, waiting for the nervous tremors to settle. His eyes gazed out his front windows and spotted the old hound circling the coop. He sighed in relief and shook it out.

He leaned one hip against the counter as he listened to Archer continue, and his lips quirked out of their frown at the chicken name. “You seem to have a theme with your pet names. I like it. And it’s good that Ulysses is doing his job.” 

Diamond sighed. “…normally I’d say that I wouldn’t want to stress Lucy with another pet in the apartment, but. If your friend weren’t retired I might even have taken you up on the offer. I can’t really claim that my seizures were ever completely controlled to start with, but… they’re worse now than they were before.” He could only hope that the collar’s impact would fade, given more time. 

The kettle clicked off, steam pouring from its spout. Diamond shook his head, dismissing his own troubles, and straightened to retrieve the kettle and fill his mug.

How does that feel? | AF 2025 - 02

Second attack of the year is on @delxenofic / @houseflyy !

He started to chew his thumbnail as he stared forward and unblinking in the dark. It took great effort and concentration to focus on Diamond's voice. It was why he called. It didn't matter what the topic was, just hearing him speak and knowing he was alive and unhurt.

He could feel that terrifying spin of his core start to slow and he tried not to panic at how long that was taking.

"His name is Ulysses." Archer said more firmly. "After the book, not the General." He stated even more directly. He swallowed, eyes darting to moving shadows.

"A... friend built him for me. He's a robot... designed to h-help me. But... things like-" Like his nightmare, like their entrapment, happened far too often. "-It. Happens... and... I can't be here. No one here to feed a... real dog."

-For that long. Archer had been trapped with those vampires for nearly a year. The thought made him chew harder, then he realized.

"He's not here." He sounded concerned. "He... usually. Watches me but the chickens." Yes! Something nonessential to discuss. "The chickens have been very upset lately." he sputtered out all at once. Hoping the faster he shifted the topics the faster his adrenaline would fade.

His hands grew steadier as he filled the kettle; his heart calmed, despite the ache, as he listened to Archer talk. The sound of coffee crystals landing in ceramic was a small and grounding thing. 

A fond smile tugged at Diamond’s lips as Archer hastened to clarify the origins of his dog’s name. “Your friend must be very skilled,” he said. 

The soothing tone of voice had been instinctive, once he knew there was no immediate danger. But as his mind woke and the aftershocks of his own adrenaline faded, Diamond began to put more conscious thought to the conversation.

His friend’s words were jumbled, stuttering and hesitant one moment and coming in a rushed flood the next. Even Archer’s thoughts seemed somewhat scattered; he was following their conversation well enough, but any time his attention shifted back to his own surroundings some level of doubt or confusion seemed to creep back in.

They’d need to circle back to the nightmare eventually. For the moment, though, Archer still seemed to be riding active panic. Talking about Archer’s dog and home was at least a half-step towards grounding him back in his environment.

Nothing had happened. It was just a dream. Archer was the only one who suffered. He could see it so clearly, even with his eyes open. The room felt claustrophobic and being on the bed felt far too much like being on that draining table.

He shifted himself as Diamond talked so calmly. Sliding off the side of his bed to the floor and crawling to a corner. He put his back against the wall and lifted his knees tight to his chest. His hand, still shaking laid splayed wide across his face. This felt better.

Safer.

Archer stuttered, starting and stopping questions of asking if he was alright still. He heard the cat and chastised himself for not bothering to ask if Diamond had pets! He should have known that- at... at least he wasn't panicking anymore.

"I'm. At home." Though he stated it he sounded unsure. He had to take a quick glance around the room again. Reaching for his nightstand lamp and sighing in relief when he found it. "... yes home..."

"... it was so real." He sucked in a breath through clenched teeth. "You... you were on that table. You know the one... in- in the dark-... he was you." His voice grew quieter and quieter. "I couldn't get you out."

He swallowed as his eyes darted side to side. It would do him no good to get worked up again. Calm. Diamond was safe. He needed to calm.

His fingers crawled with the phantom sensation of exposed bone scraping against his nails. He swallowed, sucked in a steadying breath of his own, and forced himself to focus on the real sensations of fur beneath one hand and clean plastic in the other.

“She’s, ah — she’s short-haired. Her name is Lucy. Twelve years old or so, patience of a saint.” Diamond gave in to the creeping hollow ache in his chest and pulled the cat into a one-armed hug. He pressed his cheek to the top of her head. She mrrped in protest but otherwise didn’t struggle, and he let her go again with silent gratitude for her tolerance.

Diamond rolled upright, clicked on the bedside light, and scrubbed a hand down his face once more. 

Coffee. If he was going to be up for this, he needed coffee; something warm to hold and strong to taste. 

(What he really wanted was a stiff drink, but if he let himself start down that road he knew it wouldn’t end well. Least of all when Archer needed him.)

Doing his best to control his breathing, Archer held the phone hard pressed against his ear. He was trying not to sound panicked. Not even able to question why he bothered to hide it, he was panicked! He couldn't even sort his thoughts enough to plan what to say.

He just needed to hear his voice. To confirm he was alright. Blinking as he gazed over his dark room. His mind found it indistinguishable from that place... and the war.... and the ODIB.

He tried to ease the shaking of his hand by balling it into a tight fist and pressed against his temple. It was just a dream.

Just a dream

Just a-

The line clicked and the moment he heard Diamond's voice he almost choked on a cry. "I'm-Sorry." He swallowed, attempting to steady his voice. "It's-late. I-... I had... a nightmare. Y-you. You're. Okay???" While his words were a struggle to get out, his question was a struggle to keep from yelling.

Now? 

Now, Diamond jolted upright, adrenaline already prickling through his veins. Registering that it was the ring tone he’d set for Archer didn’t do much to calm him. As he fumbled at his night stand his mind raced with images of a revenge raid on Archer’s home, hostage calls, or news of some cruel scare tactic dropped at the poor man’s doorstep—

“What is it?” he asked as soon as the line went live, his voice terse.

As Archer replied, Diamond slumped back down onto his bed and ran a shaky hand down his face. Stars. His dread shifted, piecemeal, towards sympathy.

“A-ah. Yes. Yes, Archer, I’m okay. I’m safe at home. My apartment. The cat’s asleep at my feet… or, well, no, she was, now she’s—”  a sputter, and Diamond’s pillows rustled as he turned aside, “—in my face.”

He switched his phone to speaker and held it near the purring cat’s head as he scratched her ears; raised his own voice loud enough to carry over the purr.

“And you? Where are you, Archer?”

(Muse opinions + speed run)

"I don't want to talk about him."

"...fine. We were friends, once. I'd like to say that it's because I didn't know who he was, but that's only part of it. Mostly it's that I was a desperate ass back then and he gave me a sense of purpose, and I cared more about that than I cared about the way he hurt people. It shouldn't have taken learning he was planning murder to get me to balk."

Diamond will sometimes publish research or inventions from other realms and timelines. (Usually after doing some checking to make sure everything works / is still true.)

Whenever he can get away with it, he credits the original authors, and credits himself as ‘compiler,’ ‘editor,’ ‘translator,’ or whatever else is most appropriate.

He won’t talk about the research as if it’s his, either.

He paused, considering for several silent moments with his arms tightly crossed. For how long had she been acting strangely? What if she had been afflicted for longer than he thought, and he simply hadn't realized it...?! And what if there was no way for her to be assisted unless he knew how she was cursed, and thereby he was sent on his way, out of luck and knowing that she was doomed?

The giant noticed, then, that he was staring ahead wide-eyed at nothing in particular, and his breaths were short and shallow. He shoved those dreadful worries from his mind, and tried instead to focus upon what he did know — or, rather, thought he knew.

But Ingvar spoke again, and Diamond was easily distracted by the problem at hand.

“Not too long, then,” he said. “That’s good. Though… when you say one day, do you mean it started today, sometime since dawn, or just that it’s been less than a full day-night cycle?” It paid to be specific, with things like this; not least because some magic sank its roots down deep with the turning of the Earth. 

The journal was... marginally helpful. It certainly hadn’t been the vector for the curse, but that was all Diamond could confirm on a first pass. He could use it to scry on Hilda, of course, and perhaps gain more information, but… Diamond flicked through all the attendant risks and swiftly discarded the notion. He closed the journal with a decisive snap.

I tried to keep the relationship and scenarios ambiguous. As always, feel free to change to suit your muses as needed.- Xo ❤❤❤

Tension’s running high

“And I can trust you?”

“What was that- that you just did? What did you do that for?”

“You’ve proven your word doesn’t actually mean anything.”

“Some things don’t get fixed…”

“You do know I’m not an idiot, right?”

“Talk to me like I’m a moron one more time, and you’re going to regret it.”

“You really don’t know how to just keep your mouth shut, do you?”

“This is not how I wanted to spend my afternoon.”

“If you tried- really, really hard, I bet you could stop being stupid. For like five minutes.”

“I feel like you climbed the idiot tree and hit every branch on the way down…”

“What possessed you to think I would be interested?”

“Gee, thanks. I’ll remember that the next time I want to take shitty advice.”

“Are you really this stupid, or are you just that skilled at trying to look like one?”

“If I wished to deal with whining all day, I’d have chosen to be a parent.”

“Spoiler alert: I don’t give a crap.”

“Tell it to someone who cares.”

“…I do believe that’s the crappiest idea we’ve heard yet.”

“I’m sorry, I fell asleep. Your droning will do that. Don’t bother repeating yourself.”

“Ladies and gentleman, may I present: the Darwin Award. Congratulations, you numbskull!”