TFW you have been happily writing away on the same story for the last few weeks, and suddenly realise that a character's name has unintentionally changed at some point, and a random assortment of scenes have a different name in them 😖
The sequel is here! Mission: Ineffable 3 - Famine. Chapter 1 has gone up today, and I'm pretty pleased with how it starts:
Not that Aziraphale had spent a lot of time in his adventurous life speculating what this moment might be like, if it ever happened, but he most certainly had not expected it to be happening in a drab little office building in New York.
But Crowley was here. That was the only important thing.
Looking quite remarkably handsome, too. That was admittedly a plus.
“This is a terrible plan, angel,” they said quietly, shaking their head, even though they were still smiling.
“Do tell if you have a better idea? One single better idea?” Left unsaid, given their audience and their surroundings, were the words that won’t land you in a jail cell, but they both already knew that part.
They knew what was at stake.
(but you'll have to click through to read what Aziraphale's plan is) 😄
Rules: post the beginning lines of your most recent 10 published fanfics (or chapters, if you don't have 10 fics), then attempt to tag 10 people!
tagging: anyone who wants to join in, I hate trying to do tag lists!
To my great surprise I have 14 fics on AO3, so here goes. I do seem to have a theme for how I start stories...
10. Latest update is to my original story, Diplomacy, an alt-historical drama (updating twice a week if anyone wants something new to read 😉):
Heavy boots thudded down the length of the palace corridor, scuffing up the polished wood.
9. Sk8er Demon is my 90s themed WIP:
“He’s staring again.”
8. Mission: Ineffable part 2 (yes I'm writing a series of GO fics based on the film franchise):
The shop had been in the family for over two hundred and twenty years.
7. Bound to Happen is some low-stakes Christmas fluff:
“Do you teach?”
6. Amuse bouche, a little meditation on hunger:
You eat, I watch – this is our way.
5. For another gives its ease is part 3 of my 19th Century Aziraphale's diary entries, set in 1832:
Dear Diary, it has been some time since I had anything to discuss worth recording in a personal journal, but I am inspired to take the practice up once again, as I am shortly to leave London, and I always find that journalling is a valuable practice when travelling.
4. The Flower Bed, my most popular fic and definitely my filthiest:
“Aren’t you beautiful?”
3. Vaster than Empires, my only other E rated fic, and a post-S2 get together fic:
“And that’s … well, I suppose that’s it. The plan.” Aziraphale forces a determined smile to his face, but it does nothing to hide his tension.
2. Antoinette, my Sapphic Gothic domestic horror / romance:
Last night I dreamt I went to Sanderley again.
1. The Serpent of the Loch, the story of how Crowley created the Loch Ness Monster myth:
It was a nice day. That was fairly rare, up here, even in summer.
So yeah, I do like starting with dialogue in media res, and for some reason always three word sentences? Who knew 🤣
hey guys! sorry for being absent, i promise i’ve got a lot of content and writing planned for the near future. in the meantime, here’s a spoken word poem i wrote for my english class in grade 10, i hope you enjoy reading it <3
Up to this point in my life, I have been afraid of exactly two things:
Anything, and everything.
The angry roar of a hand dryer in a bustling bathroom
The shrieks of a fire alarm singing soprano in my apartment
A crooked road sign a creaking elevator a shadow cast on my bedroom wall -
Trust me, I’ve seen it all.
But if you were to ask me what I’m really afraid of,
What swirls the storm in my head as I stare at the back of my eyelids
Trying to stumble upon sleep
Well, if you really wanted to know
I’m afraid of exactly two things:
Oblivion, and infinity.
When I was younger, I read a book about the universe
Pages pulling me in with the gravity of a galaxy of black holes
I felt stardust in my lungs with each breath
As I inhaled every word.
But when I reached the end of that book it told me
That one day the sun would swallow itself in a final breath of flame
Shrivelling the solar system.
And just like that,
Everything we’ve ever known would be gone.
I didn’t know much then.
My world was smaller and simpler;
It was my home and school
The playground and the park.
But the years swept by and suddenly my eyes were open.
I learned of a frightening world
Civilizations crumbling through the cracks of an earthquake
Continents succumbing to the sea
But in this world there was hope
In the drops of cold dew on a leaf in the morning
The rays of the sun bleeding pale gold through the curtain
In the ringing laughter of children in the park
And the stars, ever-living, in the dark of the sky.
So I spent my time trying to save the world because I couldn’t stand
To see it rip itself apart with its wars for a second of glory
I didn’t want to remember that one day it would be forgotten
With nothing left to tell its story
And then I tear my mind apart
Because in a few years these wild thoughts won’t matter
In a few billion we won’t matter
The earth is just a speck rotating around a miniscule flicker of flame
Floating in the eternal black void that is the universe
Alone afraid and insignificant
We’re born and we die and in between
We love and cry
And stop and breathe
And maybe some of us don’t die when we’re deceased
But none of us matter
Our lifespans are a millionth of a millisecond in the timeline of the universe
Our happiness is as fleeting as our grief
We live and we die in the blink of an eye
Even now I’m afraid of these same two things.
But just this once I’m trying to hold on to something and make it last
Something that won’t fade when everything else crumbles to ash
Something that will stand for more than millennia
And maybe withstand our end
Something anything because it’ll mean everything when we’re gone;
Yet it’ll all be nothing at all.
But no, that’s all wrong because I am here!
I shout into the uncaring void of space-time
My voice warped by black holes light-years wide
I am nothing but a single spot on the surface of a speck
But in this moment I am here every particle of me is in motion;
I am alive!
I matter!
Because I care!
I’m here and I’m trying to find a forever - no
I need to find a forever and make something last
Maybe I need to silence the world telling me that I can’t change it
Maybe I’m lost in the fantasy of being remembered
When reality strikes me with the realization
That I’m doomed with a fate of extinction
Maybe I’m not even trying to save the world or anyone else
There’s only one person that matters and it’s me;
Maybe I want to do something worthwhile not because I love the world
But because I only love myself and want to remain when all else is gone
Maybe the only reason I still care is because I refuse to be wrong
Or maybe I just need to block out everyone else
Because I won’t listen to them when they tell me
That dreams don’t come true and friendships don’t last
And optimism is a piece of the past.
Maybe I’m just afraid they’re right.
But maybe I’m not afraid of them I’m afraid of what I can do
Afraid because I am young, ambitious and fearless
Because there are oceans in front of me to sail
And a universe of untainted stars for me to touch
Afraid because I can change the world
And afraid because I can also destroy it.
So in the end, what am I really afraid of?
There’s maybe only one real answer to that question, and it’s this:
It’s pretty wild that my first piece is sad and dramatic but I promise my writing is a lot more upbeat than this. It’s just that this piece has a special place in my heart. I hope you enjoy.
- Andromeda
He was in the car, driving back home from the airport. The tour had been long and he missed his girlfriend. She sacrificed so much for him and all he ever did was leave and leave some more. Dean really wished he could spend more time with her, but as they had both come to realize, the life of a star made it impossible to settle into a routine. The car was filled with the sound of the music on the playlist Malia had made for him a while back. She had called it Remember me, because she knew each song would remind him of her, a way for them to be together even when they weren’t. It was currently snowing. It was nothing like a blizzard. Rather it was a soft and constant descent of snowflakes and Dean felt happiness bubble up inside of him. He actually really liked snow. Always the thoughtful boyfriend, Dean wondered if Malia was warm and hoped she was currently under the thick covers of their shared bed. She couldn’t welcome him at the airport because she had work, and Dean hoped she’d had a good day. Malia worked so hard. The city was quiet, such a great contrast to its busier day facade. Perhaps therein lay the beauty of cities: in the stark contrast between their streets in the day and at night.
Simultaneously, Malia was on her way home from work. It had been a long day and all she wanted to do was sit in the couch with a cup of tea, waiting for her boyfriend to come home. He was returning from a two-month tour and to say she had missed him would be an understatement.
She yearned for the covers of her bed and the warmth of the apartment, the dark snowy streets not warm enough for her. As she turned into the small hallway she usually took, a shortcut she had discovered a while back, she heard shuffling behind her. Malia’s head whipped around in an attempt to see who or what was behind her, but there was nothing. It was probably her own footsteps being echoed off the walls on either side of her. Her building would be in sight in barely a minute and Malia felt her heart soar at the thought that not only would she be home soon, but that Dean was returning from tour. She wanted to welcome him, but it was a busy night and her boss made sure to tell her that she would lose her job if she missed it. Of course, her boyfriend understood and practically begged her to go to work, but if she were to be honest, she would rather have been jobless than continue to entertain the disgusting men who threw dirty comments and hit on her as she served them their food. Tonight was no exception, one of them had asked for a night with her and she had never felt so humiliated in her entire life. In fact, she was so disgusted that she’d punched the guy in the face, just how Dean had taught her and though she’d lost her job as a result, she was proud of herself. It was sure, her boyfriend would be just as proud, and probably make plans to beat him up for even thinking his baby would do such a thing. All these months she’d refused to tell her boyfriend what was happening at her job because Dean angry was indeed a sight to behold, but not in a good way, but also because it had never been as bad. Tonight was a displaced event.
For one reason or another she decided to take the stairs to her fourth floor apartment, humming along to her music as she did so. Once again she heard shuffling as she walked up. There had to be something going on, but like always, she shrugged it off and put her earphones back on. It wasn’t worth the hassle, she was already inside the building and the apartment was less than fifty steps away. A shuffling coming from behind her caught her attention and she turned around to face the end of the hallway where the stairs were and there he was. The man she’d punched at the restaurant, face bloody and eyes wild. Now, under the harsher light of the hallways, she could really see him. He seemed to be in his early thirties, his beard was nothing but a shadow and his clothing was that of a regular office worker, but his eyes were the scariest thing about him. His eyes, his dark, widely opened, animalistic eyes were focused on her with a vengeance engraved in them. The fear they made her feel was immediate and absolute. She was so focused on his expression that she failed to notice the large knife in his hand.
Dean drove towards his apartment, happily singing along to the songs, even laughing at some of the memories associated with them as he made his way home. He was almost there, around fifteen minutes away from rest and her, Malia’s loving embrace could literally melt away all of his worries and it even crossed his mind at that moment, whether or not he could take her along with him on tour. That was ridiculous, he knew, but for those minutes he entertained the idea, laughing to himself at how deeply in love he really was, when his phone rang. It was her.
“Baby, what’s up?”
“Hi honey, when are you gonna be here?”
He looked at the car clock and thought about it for a second. She seemed eager and he didn’t want to be wrong in his estimations. Malia was such a whiner when she missed him.
“Five to ten minutes, what’s the matter?”
“I just wanted to know.”
“Oh okay, I’ll see you then?”
“N-no, keep talking to me, please.”
Now she sounded desperate. She spoke as if this was her last lifeline—perhaps it was, if he judged by the longing in her voice. That worried him. Usually she was less clingy about it all. And although he complained endlessly about her being a needy child, he loved it, despite endless complaints. Was she crying? Was something wrong? Was she hurt? What was going on?
“What’s the matter?”
“Nothing I miss your voice.”
He didn’t believe her, but decided to let it go. Malia had a habit of being extremely stubborn and Dean knew, no matter how hard he tried to get it out of her, she would never say it. Hell she could be dying and refuse to admit it, it was ridiculous. He sighed, running his free hand through his hair. God bless Malia, she had shown him the greatness that the car Bluetooth system was. Not having enough time to try out the gadgets in the car, he relied solely and completely on his girlfriend when it came to how the black vehicle they shared worked. At that moment he began to feel bad about her having to give up the car for the night so he could get home. She had a shift and couldn’t make it to the airport so she’d left the car at the company buildings for him. He despised her working there but what could he do? She was hellbent on getting her own paycheck, and he wasn’t complaining as long as she was happy.
“Alright, but I’m literally five minutes away.”
Her breath hitched in her throat, it seemed her breathing was labored as she replied, her voice barely a whisper. “O-okay,”
“Are you ok?” Dean bit the inside of his cheeks as his eyebrows knotted together in confusion. What the hell was going on over there?
“Yeah I’m fine,” Malia rushed out. “How was the tour?”
“It was good. I missed you.”
“I missed you too.”
It seemed eternity had passed before she spoke again. If her words had previously been barely audible, this time it seemed the only way he had heard them was through telepathic communication because she barely said them. “D-Dean?”
“Yeah babe?”
“I love you.”
“I love you too.”
He was getting more and more nervous at the way she was talking. By her demeanor you’d think she was dying. Dean sighed and forced himself to relax. Malia was such a baby sometimes and it made him nervous because he’d always think she was in danger or hurt but in reality she was just missing him and had decided to curl up in his sweatshirts and cry about it.
“Babe, relax, I’m am now walking out of the elevator. I’m sure you can hear me. I don’t know what I’ve done to get such a whiny girlfriend, seriously.” He finished with a chuckle and she giggled back.
Something was off about the laugh, but he brushed it off. Nothing ever sounded normal when Malia cried.
“At least you know how much I miss you.”
He walked out of the elevator, suitcases in hand and his mouth fell open when he saw it. Her, laying on the ground in what seemed to be too red clothing. Her work clothes were white. It all happened so fast, one second he was standing in front of the elevator, the next he was on his knees and that’s when he realized it. She was dying, she was really dying.
“M—Malia,” he croaked, his throat too dry to do otherwise, “what happened?”
“It’s nothing,” she replied giving him a bloody smile and he felt his heart implode from the pain that was written on her face.
As much as she tried to hide it, it wouldn’t happen. She was in suffering and he could tell; several years had taught him the art of reading her face and for the first time ever he regretted ever having learned such a skill. He wanted to be oblivious to the agony she was in, he wanted this all to be a dream, some type of twisted nightmare, or even a prank. Because there was no way this could have happened, not to him, not his girl.
“What do you mean it’s nothing?!”
“I’m okay babe,” she replied once more as reason flew off into the horizon.
Dean was at a loss for words, panic shot through his habitually calm body and he didn’t know how to deal with it. He could take care of Malia’s clumsy accidents, but he didn’t know how to take care of this.
“No you’re not.” His face had become almost as pale as hers. Her plump lips were becoming more and more blue, her skin felt colder as time passed and he knew, the life was slipping out of her. “Did you call for help?”
She shook her head. “I’m already too far gone, I just wanted to hear your voice one last time.”
It hit him like a train, that he may have to spend the rest of his life without her and it hurt more than anything. More than when his first girlfriend ditched him for his best friend, more than leaving Malia behind for concerts, more than the time he was harassed by crazy fans, along with her in the process. This was real physical pain and for a moment he felt his body go numb. He couldn’t move because he didn’t feel like he had a body anymore. Tears pricked at his eyes but he knew he had to keep it together.
“You are not going to leave me like this.”
“I’m not gonna make it.”
She was crying. Her hand rested over the wound on her abdomen. Her white blouse was becoming redder by the minute, her breathing more and more labored, her body getting colder as she lay in his arms.
“Yes you are. You are going to make it and survive this. I have to marry someone-”
“We could be like Romeo and Juliet. Unless you want to marry a corpse.”
“Don-don’t joke like that. I’m going to call for help okay? Stay awake. You can make it.”
“Dean, I’m cold.”
“I know, baby.” He took his jacket off, tears streaming down his face as he did so and placed it on her. “I know. Just hang in there. You can’t leave me like this. What am I going to do without you?”
She smiled at the warmth the jacket brought her, and nodded, maybe there was hope after all. Maybe he would get what he wanted. Him and her, married, two kids, a house in the more residential parts of the city, happiness. His voice rang through to her, but it was a faraway voice. His voice was drifting further and further away and her eyelids felt progressively heavier. Perhaps if she closed her eyes for just a second she would be okay. She was tired and needed some rest to continue this journey.
“No, don’t close your eyes!” Dean called out so fast that the fatigue fled her body at an all time high speed. “The ambulance will be here soon. Can you tell me what happened?”
“He-he-” she coughed, and this time, the red liquid that coursed through her veins made its way past her lips, substituting for words and Dean felt his tears flow down his face, trying his best to keep them from staining her.
It killed him to see the woman he loved in such a situation.
“It’s okay,” he rocked her back and forth, frantically wiping his tears. “Take your time.”
“He was from the restaurant. I punched him.”
“Someone from your job followed you?”
She nodded weakly and if Dean didn’t know, he would have guessed she was dead. But no, he refused to let himself think like that. She was going to make it.
“I’m going to take care of it, okay? Just hang in there, the paramedics will be here in no time. They’re going to fix you.”
“Dean?”
“Yeah, baby?”
“Can-can you say my name?’
“Malia, why are you asking me such ridiculous questions?”
“Just say it, please.”
He sighed and said her name, taking his time to pronounce each letter, from the Oakley of her last name to the Malia of her first, he made sure each letter was like music to her ears. After a moment, she smiled and thanked him before asking him to sing her a song. The song they both loved so much. An old song from Machine’s older albums, and he opened his mouth to sing for her. She smiled a bloody smile, closing her eyes and he stopped.
“Don’t close your eyes.”
“I’m sleepy.”
“I know, Malia but please fight to stay awake.”
The sound of the ambulance rang through the building and that’s when, after all that had happened, the neighbors came out of their homes, the wrinkles of sleep evident on their face. The seven-year-old girl from next door, whose company Malia enjoyed so much, stepped out of her house but, when her mother realized what was going on, was pulled back into the apartment and the door was closed before the young woman came back out.
“What in the world happened?”
“I—I don’t know.” Dean replied, at a loss for words.
When it was just the two of them, there was the possibility that this may have been a dream. But now as the neighbor looked at the two lovers, one dying and the other weeping, reality struck. This was real and Malia was in fact dying. They could all hear the paramedics making their way out of the elevator and he smiled through his tears, feeling hope rise inside him again.
“Malia. They’re here. I told you it was going to be okay.” No response came from the woman and he looked down to see her eyelids closed. “Malia, wake up. They’re here.” Nothing. “Malia. Malia. MALIA OAKLEY.” Rage built in him as he realized she had fallen asleep despite his clear instructions for her not to. He wiped her face, gently tucking strands of her hair behind her ears. “Babe. Please wake up, the paramedics are here. they’re going to fix you. Malia, I said your name, I sang for you. Please just open your eyes. The medics are going to help you like I said.”
In a split second, he had come down from the anger and desperation filled him. She had to wake up. She hadn’t fought so hard only to give up mere seconds before the paramedics got to her. There was no way this was happening. This had to be a joke right? This couldn’t be true. Malia had to wake up.
The EMT looked at Dean, and without having to say it, he knew.
“No, that’s a lie. She can’t be. She was talking ten seconds ago. Stop lying to me.”
“I’m sorry sir.”
“There’s nothing for you to be sorry about. She’s not dead. Look I covered her when she was cold, I talked to her. I told her to stay awake so that you could fix her. She’s just resting her eyes.”
“Dean.” This time it was the neighbor. She spoke softly and touched his shoulder, a touch that was immediately rejected.
“Malia, wake up and show them how much of a fighter you are.” the EMT approached Dean, but the man wouldn’t move. They couldn’t take her. She wasn’t dead.
“Sir we have to take her body.”
“DOn’t talk about her like she’s dead!”
“Dean,” the neighbor began, attempting to pry him away from his girlfriend’s body, but he wasn’t moving.
“Don’t touch me! She’s going to wake up! Baby wake up. You have to show them how wrong they are. Baby please.” he pleaded with her, but deep down, he knew. Malia wasn’t coming back home.
He’d lost the will to continue. What was he going to do without her? With a sunken heart and the feeling of having lost a part of himself, he gently placed into the EMT’s arms and stood at a distance, trying to understand how this could happen to him. To his girl.
The paramedics took Malia’s body and zipped her into the body bag while Dean just stood next to the stretcher, his face blank. No one could tell what he was feeling, only that he was devastated beyond words. Nothing anybody would have said could have changed the way he felt, and even the neighbor knew. Despite him having pushed her hand away, she hugged him.
“I’m so sorry Dean. I really am.”
He didn’t reply, but only stared blankly ahead. The words just weren’t coming, and besides, he preferred to keep quiet. What could he say? He’d tried everything he could. But in the end she had left him alone.Dean looked at his hands, bloody and shaking. Her blood.
His luggage still sat in the hallway where he had dropped it and when the neighbor moved to his side, asking him for the key so she could get him inside, he refused.
“I’m going to go to the hospital.”
“That’s dangerous, the fans—”
“My girlfriend just died and you want me to stay here because of the fans? Should I come in the car?” the paramedic looked him over and sighed.
“It’s best if you come with us. You don’t look like you can drive.”
Dean nodded and left with the ambulance.
The ride was quiet, Dean contemplated how he was going to fare without Malia. Was life without her even possible? It seemed everything before he’d met her was useless and all that mattered were the four and a half years they had been together, but that night, Dean began to wonder for the first time in a while. What was life like before Malia Oakley? Did he want to go back to that life? More importantly, how was he going to go back to it?
The hospital was rather empty. Not many people got hurt on Tuesday nights. The few people who were there recognized Dean within seconds and despite the late hour, a rumble was born in the emergency room. Machine was here.
“Please let him through.”
Dean’s worst fear was realized. Not only was he afraid of fans because well, he’d had his share of unpleasant experiences, but now, Malia was part of the product that he was. To see people so excited to see him in a hospital, next to a body bag, just because they could now take a picture of him, was utterly sickening. The paramedics led him away before anything could happen, to the room where Malia’s body would find a home until the cause of death would be determined, another hurdle he would have to overcome alone.
“You can have a few minutes with her before we have to put her away.”
He spoke of her as if she wasn’t in the same room as them, as if she didn’t exist anymore and at that moment Dean felt the emotions overcome him once again.
“Baby.” He touched her face with shaking hands and sighed. “You look so beautiful when you sleep. How do you manage it?” His voice was soft, almost inaudible as he spoke to the envelope that held his beloved a mere hour ago. “I’m going to miss you. I don’t know how I’m going to do it.” His voice cracked as he moved a strand of her brown hair behind her ear. “Why did you do that huh? Why did you leave me? I was supposed to marry you Malia. We were supposed to have two kids and live in a nice house where they would play and grow. Who am I supposed to do that with now huh?”
The tears fell out of his eyes as he spoke, his words laced with grief.
“You can’t do this to me Malia. We had too many plans, too much stuff to do. You can’t decide to leave me like this. That’s not what we said. Malia. It’s Dean. It’s me.”
He begged, his face hovering over hers, sobbing as the pain hit him in all senses of the word, emotionally, physically, mentally, he was almost as gone as she was.
“Please Malia. Please, please.” He had no idea what he was begging for, but he did it nevertheless because he had nothing else to say. “I love you, I love you, I love you.” Dean resorted to such words. Maybe it would make things better, if even in death she knew he loved her. He would never stop loving her, that was a fact.
When he felt he had had enough time with her, Dean left the small room and sat in the waiting area that was now empty. Either people had left or were asked to pretend he wasn’t there, and regardless of what had happened he didn’t care. His phone rang again, it was Eric, probably calling to see if he’d gotten home.
“She’s gone.” he said, his voice void of emotion and on the other side of the line, Eric’s face scrunched in confusion.
"What are you talking about? Did you get home?”
"I was too late.” Dean replied softly and Eric’s heart picked up. Something was off. Dean was soft spoken, but this was too soft to be good.
"Dean, what the hell are you talking about?”
"Malia is dead.”
A moment of silence ensued, and Eric had no idea what to say. Dead? Was he sure he was saying the right word? There was no way his friend’s girlfriend could be dead. He‘d spoken to her earlier that evening.
"What—oh—oh my god, I’m so sorry.”
"Maybe if I’d been home earlier, maybe if I’d insisted on her skipping tonight’s shift. Maybe if—
"Dean, stop. It’s not your fault” Eric cut him off, taking a seat in living room. This was a hit to them all. Malia wasn’t just Dean’s girlfriend, she was their friend, and not having her around had already began to seem like an obstacle too large to overcome.
"But what am I going to do without her?”
"Where are you? I’m coming with the boys,”
"No, you don’t have to.” in his seat, Dean held up his hands as he spoke, asking his friend to stay at home. They didn’t need this, not after the tour. Besides, this was his fight to overcome.
"Yes I do. Where are you.”
"The hospital near my house.”
"I’ll be right over.”
There was no time for him to reply, because his leader had already hung up. He knew there was no stopping him, and so he waited. A part of him was glad to have his brothers around him—because that’s who they were, his brothers—at least he would have someone to talk to, or look at.
It was nearly ten minutes before the rest of Machine, all clad in sweatpants and plain shirts, walked into the waiting room, wearing masks on their faces.
“Dean.” Mike called out as the seven other men sat, looking at their friend. He looked desolate, like he’d just lost everything he called his on the planet.
“I told her not to fall asleep. But she’s stubborn.”
“Hey, you can talk to us.” David murmured and Dean nodded.
“I know, thanks. Thank you guys for coming, but you didn’t have to. You all look so tired.”
“Have you seen yourself? If anything we should be sending you home.” Ryan replied and they all smiled a fading smile. One that allowed him to momentarily forget why they were in the hospital, why he was sitting in a waiting room looking like he’d lost his reason for living. Well, if one were to put it simply, he’d lost his pillar. It would be a challenge, living as if Malia had never existed.
“It’s going to be okay. I know it.”
Mike patted his friend’s shoulder. If there was one thing Machine was good at, it was dealing with tragedies.
Mistakes happen often. What are the chances it’ll happen to you? Almost 100% of the time you’ll make at least one mistake everyday. Now, what are the chances a major mistake happens? Much lower, but it’s still there. It’s happened to me so often I’m not all too surprised that my medical assistant that went missing around the time of my arrest was arrested as well. Though, for very different reasons.
So, I’m going to give out his name because well, he doesn’t deserve to be where he is. Nao was a really great medical student and was so eager to learn. The enthusiasm was a nice little boost to everyone’s day here. He was always smiling and up for criticism. There was only a few slight problems and it wasn’t even anything any of us were bothered by. He had some mental disabilities and he couldn’t read well.
Spark was checking him over whenever he prescribed any medication, making sure it was the right dosage and the right name. Some of those small errors were not even what he wrote down, it was the bottles he’d given. I’d blame the patients for not making sure of everything before taking it, but it’s really my fault. I should’ve been paying more attention, but the medic bay was busy back then. For Primus sake, we were in the middle of a war!
Well, anyway, Shockwave came in one day while I was out and Spark was off duty, so Kizzy made sure. He corrected the spelling mistake, but Shockwave was still given the wrong bottle. He claimed he’d been poisoned purposefully by a nineteen million year old who could barely write his own name.
I was in the middle of my court case when he was arrested and... they never held a court case for him. I’ve gotten him out and I’m doing my best to keep him calm, but he’s scared of every little touch. I’m going to have a word with Shockwave and possibly sue him. Nao could really use the money to get a therapist... or I could ask Pharma to help him too. I just don’t want to push too much work on him with all of our ‘minor’ problems.
(March 21 - April 19) The Ram - “I Am” (Ability to think on one’s feet)
Writing Prompt: Your muse writes a letter to their family about a decision they have come to regarding their future. This could be in present day, as a young child, or in the future.
Happy Christmas! I got my Hogwarts letter today and Auntie Cress said I should tell you even though you’re gone. And least week Auntie Cress found a baby owl hiding in the garden, she says he has a broken wing, but I think he is just afraid to fly. I have been taking care of him, and I will teach him when he isn’t so scared anymore. I named him Hermes, and he is coming to Hogwarts with me.
When I get there I am going to be the best in astronomy and be in Ravenclaw, just like you, Mum. And I’m going to fly around on a broom. Auntie says I shouldn’t play Quidditch because it is like cheating, but she doesn’t know. She also said to keep quiet about what I see so that I don’t get made fun of at school like I do in the village. But I am going to get the best marks and make the best friends and have the best time.
I am going to make you proud.
Andy folded the piece of parchment up carefully, as the folds were starting to give in their age. Of course Cress tucked that damn letter into Mum’s journal, she thought as she tucked away the declarations of a silly eleven year old back into the leather-bound notebook. “You did real fucking good, Andy. Hufflepuff, seeker, failing Divination and avoiding astronomy like a plague. Bet they are fucking beaming with pride,” though the words were harsh, Andy laughed as she said them, cross-legged on her plush bed in her dorm. “Hermes turned out okay though,” she grinned and held her hand out, knowing full well that the owl would meet it, “didn’t you, bud? Broken wing my arse, you were just a a little scaredy-butt. Now look at you.”
Ruffling the feathers along Hermes’ neck Andy couldn’t help but wonder what it might have been like if one of them had made it. Really didn’t matter which, she couldn’t remember any specifics about them anyhow. And it wasn’t like she didn’t appreciate everything that Cressida did for her, but as she got older it became more apparent just how much she didn’t want to be raising the bastard child of the man she loved and her sister. Fun stuff. For the most part Andy tried to stay out of her way, keeping up the cottage when she was home to keep the peace. “Only one more year, and we are home free, Herm. Only one more year.”
