@lightphieric - I hope you like what I went with!! I originally misremembered the prompt and had a full sketch of the Klim family playing Family Feud, but when I went back and realized that wasn't one of the options I switched tracks. I'm glad though, because I got to include Dio for Jeopardy!!! Which honestly is the funniest idea to me for so many reasons. I hope you enjoy and your holidays are perfect!
some kylio for @lightphieric!!! i'm so sorry you didn't get a zecret santa present. hopefully you'll like a shameless ref to that one meme (and yes i know it's backwards, somehow that just happened and i didn't realize it until i was done lol)
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
To: @oobi-oobi
From: @lightphieric
Happy holidays oobi-oobi! I chose the prompt "More about Diana’s life before the events of Zero Time Dilemma" because I love Diana and have been stuck on the mental image of her being a percussionist for years. I hope you enjoy it!
Happy holidays! I was really delighted to receive your prompts as they were some of my favorites :) I absolutely love futurama so the idea of Q-team dressed as them made me so happy! I would also like to shoutout my wonderful student (I'm a high school teacher) who helped me, I love their artistic style and love to support my kids so I asked for their help to make you this gift, so please give credit to @cr3ntist as well. I hope you enjoy this holiday season and have a great time and maybe get some down time to play one of our favorite games again!
Happy holidays Saika! Obviously I wrote you some good good Dio/Kyle. I did “Dio shows Kyle the beach” and then at the end there’s a little bit of Kyle playing with Dio’s hair. I hope you like it, and as always, thank you for being a friend!
to @lightphieric !! w/ love from @ultdeimoskinnie :)
was so excited to participate in an event like this! i hope i get to do this again in the future :’) especially if the prompts are this cute lol. took inspiration from that one horribly cursed image but it actually came out super adorable and i’m really happy with this ^^ hope you enjoy too!! happy holidays!!🎄
Happy holidays from one Eric appreciator to another! The prompt was Eric going through horror and angst, and what could be more horrifying for him than dealing with his own guilt in the aftermath of that infamous grenade launcher ending?
Some content warnings because this is rather dark: Canon-typical violence, death, and gore, mental breakdowns, vomiting, references to past child abuse, and implied sex.
—
Eric dropped the grenade launcher as Mira pulled him out of the way, and with it, he let go of the power and confidence it made him feel. That was a high he would never achieve again. Cowering behind the staircase, he plummeted back down to small and powerless. The explosion left his hands buzzing with numbness; his ears whined and his vision was hazy. None of that seemed to fade as the dust settled.
“Now announcing the current casualties.” The mysterious voice warbled distantly. “C-Team: Carlos, Junpei. Q-Team: Q. D-Team: Diana, Sigma, Phi. These six are now deceased. As a result, six X-Passes will now be revealed: Fight, Jump, Bro, Red, Milk, Blue.”
Eric stood on unsteady legs. He felt weightless and too heavy all at once. Behind him, Mira pushed herself up. He was afraid to look at her, terrified to see her furious expression. Meanwhile, as he looked upon the destruction he’d wrought, the corners of his mouth automatically lifted in a smile, and he couldn’t pull them down.
“What an idiot!” he said thoughtlessly, before floating into the center of the ruined library.
There wasn’t much left of Q or his chair. One leg was twisted in the spokes of the wheels, and the rest of his limbs didn’t seem to be around. Eric averted his eyes from the flayed red void that used to be the old man’s face, swallowing down the smell of blood and burnt paper behind his smile.
“Don’t touch,” Mira said with a cough. She grabbed Eric’s arm. She had never touched him so forcefully, although it didn’t seem to be in anger. He thought he liked it, even though his arm was too numb to feel the pressure of her fingers.
“Why would I touch them?” Absentmindedly, Eric took another step forwards. Mira pulled him back before his shoe glanced the blood.
“Come on,” she insisted. “Let’s get out of here. Better not give Akane a chance to beat us.”
Akane. That was the name she noticed was omitted from the death count. Someone who was still a threat to them. Of course.
Eric stared at Sean as they escaped the library. He was drenched in Q’s blood, and his helmet was charred, with a piece of Q’s wheelchair having lodged itself in an eyehole. The kid had never counted as an actual participant in the Decision Game. His death meant nothing, but there he was, twitching with the last shreds of life he had.
Eric rubbed his eyes with shaking hands when he thought he saw Sean reach his arm out to him. When he opened them again, the library door was shut, sealing the dead behind the facility’s walls.
—
Eric’s fingers kept slipping off the keys as he tried to plug in the X-Passes. After misspelling the word “blue” three times, he needed Mira to sub in. She did it without complaint; what a relief that she didn’t seem to hate him.
He dictated the passes for her, reading them off the scoreboard on the wall. Seeing the names written up there in that cold, clerical font, it hit him that six people had really died here. A bitter lump rose in his throat, but he swallowed it down as the rumble and shriek of the X-Door opening reminded him what that meant.
Mira took a step back as the door opened, and Eric caught her hand in his. She looked over at him hesitantly. He smiled back. It was okay. Six people had died, but it was all so Mira could escape.
Everything bad that had happened, had happened for her.
He ran out the X-Door once it was open, laughing with glee, and Mira struggled to keep pace. Their bracelets unclasped and clattered to the floor behind them as they ran, leaving all evidence of their ordeal squarely in the past. Now, the future was waiting for them. In the antechamber before the lift, they found duffel bags containing their wallets, Mira’s favorite necklace and other valuables they’d brought to Dcom, a change of clothes for both of them, keys to a truck, two plane tickets home to Nebraska and two keycards to a room at a nearby motel.
“Are you tired?” asked Mira, leafing through her wallet to make sure nothing had been taken.
“Nope!” Eric lied.
“Good. That means we can head straight to the airport.” She placed the keycards in her wallet and hid it in her back pocket. “The motel is probably meant to be a secluded place where the winning team can clean up. But you didn’t touch the bodies, so there’s no need for that.”
“What bodies?”
Mira smiled slyly. Beautiful. “Keep that attitude up and we should be fine.”
The night sky was cool and dry and huge and oppressive. Eric scrambled to get inside the truck when they found it waiting for them not far from the exit point. Something about the enclosed space was comforting.
Mira insisted that Eric drive. “There’s debris in my bra and it itches like hell. I’m getting in the backseat. To change.” She reached over him to angle the rearview mirror down and gave him a long, lingering look before slipping into the back of the truck.
Despite how intently Eric focused on the path before him, there were no roads or signs in sight. Zero had prepared them for the endless desert with a map and a compass, but their directions scrambled into alphabet soup in Eric’s mind. Eventually, Mira begrudgingly hopped into the passenger’s seat, taking over navigation. After what felt like hours of aimless circling, they happened upon a road.
The hour was late and the road was barren. Cars still passed them occasionally, signs of human life that sent a shiver through Eric; under the eclipse, their shiny metal roofs looked soaked in blood. Eric could almost smell it.
—
The TSA were the reason Eric hated flying. They had a way of making him think he was guilty of something. He would always sweat under the metal detectors, convinced he’d somehow forgotten about the automatic rifle he was carrying or the dead body stuffed into his carry-on.
And now, it wasn’t just paranoia. He really was wilting under the airport’s fluorescent lights, and he was sure the agents could see that. He was shaking, like he had been ever since he saw another person step out of their car in the parking lot. And he was sure there was something, something staining his clothes that would make him unfit to be seen by human eyes, much less to fly.
Luckily, he had that unyielding smile to carry him. He stepped confidently through the metal detector, grinning so hard it dragged an eyeroll from the agent operating it. She waved him through after the beep and he barely kept himself from toppling forwards as he passed her, bowled over by a sense of relief. A sound like rushing water filled his ears, drowning out most of the airport’s ambient noise, and he could only stand there recovering until he noticed that Mira was still talking to the agent inspecting their bags.
Why would they be hounding Mira? She was the picture of innocence. Eric tried to look intimidating as he stormed towards them. His face was hot and red, but he feared his smile was undermining his image. Mira turned at his footsteps and gestured towards him with a chuckle. “My boyfriend. Can’t stand getting to the gate any later than three hours early.”
The agent gave a salute as she gathered up their duffel bags and beckoned for Eric to follow her into the terminal. “Enjoy Nebraska, folks,” he said with a grimace.
Mira offered Eric his bag, and when he didn’t take it from her, she frowned and slung it over her other shoulder. “We were just making small talk,” she said. “It didn’t mean anything.”
“But you didn’t do anything wrong, Mira!” Eric sputtered. “You’re innocent!”
“Yeah, and making small talk can help convince people of that,” said Mira. She spoke slowly, like she thought Eric’s hearing was impaired.
Which it was. The rushing sound was only getting louder. “They should just leave you alone. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
Mira grabbed his sleeve with a huff and sped her pace. She dragged him forwards for a while, before stopping in front of a deserted gate and double checking to make sure no one was nearby. She leaned in, her lips by his ear. So close. “You’re doing a shit job of acting natural,” she whispered. “Try to keep it together until we’re out of public, at least.”
“You’re a good person.” Eric couldn’t stop himself from babbling. “You would never hurt anyone.”
“Tell yourself that.” Mira grasped his hand harder and started again towards their gate.
Eric followed. If public displays of affection like this were part of acting natural, then he shouldn’t have a problem with it. Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that a terrible mistake had just been made, that he was somewhere he wasn’t supposed to be.
They sat down at their gate, surrounded by people working on their laptops or talking or napping while they waited for the flight to board. The people blended in with the blue of the carpet under them and the sterile gray of the walls behind them. Eric knew they were all staring at him, like they hated him. Under their scrutiny, sweat dripped into his eyes and his teeth chattered. He flashed an appeasing smile at all the blurred shapes judging him, the same smile he’d been unable to shake for hours.
It finally fell as he set eyes on two people sitting rows away.
They were the only clear image in a sea of confusion: a young boy asleep, his head resting on the back of his grandfather’s wheelchair. The old man held the boy’s hand as he drifted off to sleep as well. Both of their chests were rising, falling. Peaceful, and alive. A hallucination. An impossibility, given that they were in the room with a killer.
He stood up like a shot before he even realized he was doing it. “Mira, get away.”
Mira sighed. “Eric, stop this.” She grabbed his wrist and tried to pull him back into his seat, but he shook her away like he thought he’d burn her.
“Get away from me, it’s not safe. I-I’m dangerous!” Eric swallowed painfully as the truth came crashing back onto him like a ton of bricks. He backed away from Mira into the thoroughfare, raising his voice so she could still hear him. “I killed them.”
“What are you talking about?” said Mira through grit teeth.
“Sean and Q!” He pointed at their analogues. “I killed – I fucking blew them up!” The boy and the old man remained asleep, but for the other passengers, Eric’s pointing arm drew a line straight to him. “God, fuck… I…” He brought his other shaking hand up to his forehead, wiping away the sweat stinging his eyes, then grabbing a fistful of hair. He pulled hard enough to tear away some strands, but he couldn’t feel the pain. He couldn’t feel anything but the blast of heat from the explosion on his face, the ringing in his ears as Sean screamed, a tug in his gut as he remembered the gaping holes in Q’s torso where his limbs used to be.
The only thing in his stomach was the beer he’d drank in the lounge, but it was enough. The alcohol burned its way back up his throat. Eric was thrown to his hands and knees by the force of his retching, and brown bile splattered onto the floor.
His fingers twitched against the soiled carpet, his left index finger gripping the cold trigger of a grenade launcher, the rest curling around a skinny neck, squeezing against the neckline of a helmet, snapping an arthritic spine. “Q… Sean…” He felt hard tile under his knees, vomit and overflowing water soaking into the fabric of his pants. “Chris…” Even though his legs had given out entirely, he imagined standing up and seeing his reddened face in the bathroom mirror. He saw Dad’s haggard beard and the wildness in his eyes.
Eric would avoid mirrors for the rest of his life if it meant never seeing that.
A kindly hand – thick-fingered, no long nails, not Mira – touched Eric on the arm. Eric thrashed as he brought his hands up to hug himself, shaking the stranger off. Other bystanders were not so charitable. He heard the beeps of people dialing their phones. There were footsteps, running back in the direction of the TSA. So many people gathered, ready to see him get tasered, arrested, committed, shot.
“I did it to protect us, Mira. Zero said ‘Kill one’ so I did!” He couldn’t stop himself from confessing, confessing, confessing. “But I was so angry… that little shit, he made me so mad. It was his fault!” A body appeared before him, small and covered with no blood, but lifeless all the same. Its face was blond and familiar. “It was Chris’s fault!”
His voice gave out on his brother’s name, rasping into a whisper. He’d been shouting and hadn’t even realized it, attracting a massive crowd which closed in around him. With no voice left to defend himself, Eric melted into violent sobs. The TSA arrived and he had no strength to resist them as they hoisted him up by the shoulders and dragged him away. He hung loosely in their grasp, just barely finding the strength to lift his head and catch what was surely his last glimpse of Mira, distant, disappointed and hating him.
Then a stabbing pain entered his neck, and the image of Mira turned to blackness.
—
He felt his whole body as he woke up. He wasn’t in pain, just very heavy. Denial couldn’t be the wind under his sails anymore. His voice rasped as he groaned, overwhelmed by the feeling of humanity returning to him.
“Hmm. You’re awake.”
Slowly, Eric turned his head. “Mira?” She sat next to him, regarding him coolly. The wall behind her was a warm white, the seat under her a rich cream. A small window framed her face, wisps of clouds floating by in the background. She was angelic, saintly, even; he felt like she’d saved him and taken him to heaven. “We’re on the plane?”
“Private jet, actually.” Mira gestured around her and Eric turned to look. The cabin was small and the rows were empty, besides them and a man sitting in the very back. He wore a red and black suit. It wasn’t clear whether or not he was watching them behind his sunglasses. “Pretty nice, right?” said Mira. “Free the Soul really came through. Dressing up as TSA and tranqing you was brilliant.”
“Free the…” Eric groaned and pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes. “I’m sorry, whose jet is this?”
“I’m not really sure, to be honest,” said Mira. “No one ever explained to me how these guys worked. Hell, you just murdered their leader. For all I know, this jet belongs to you now.”
Eric cringed as he remembered. He was a monster. He’d ended the Decision Game by killing two people. Some would say it was the right thing to do; someone had to have died or else none of them would have ever gotten out of there. But now he was out, and for the rest of his life, he was going to be a person who had killed. With that guilt weighing him down, his breakdown at the airport would not be his last.
He hoped she was kidding about the jet being his. The seats were the softest things he’d ever sat on and it looked like there was a fully stocked bar. Not to mention the beautiful woman in the seat next to him. All things he certainly didn’t deserve.
He looked at Mira with a pleading grimace. “Mira,” he said, “do you hate me?”
Mira exhaled through her nose and rolled her eyes. A laugh. “Hate is an awfully strong word for me,” she said. “I don’t think I’ve ever hated anything.”
“But are you mad at me?”
“I mean, I’m still a little annoyed.” Mira sighed and flicked a strand of hair over her shoulder. “But really, it’s on me. I have practice making myself look guiltless. You don’t. I should have coached you before we got to the airport.”
“The airport?” Eric bit his lip. She couldn’t have forgotten already, could she? “No, that’s not what I mean. Mira, I…” Now that he was lucid, it was harder to get the words out. “I killed two people.”
“One.”
“Huh?”
“Sean isn’t dead,” said Mira matter-of-factly. “Maybe ‘broken’ is a more appropriate word. He’s a robot, Eric. I put it together.”
She was inscrutable. She’d said a lot of weird things like this before, things that Eric had assumed were jokes. He’d genuinely thought she was the funniest person he had ever met, with her imagination and deadpan delivery. After the things Eric had seen the day before, he was starting to believe she had never been joking at all. “Oh,” he said. “That does kind of make sense.” It didn’t.
“He might be worth going back for, actually. See if he’s at all salvageable. And I guess Akane doesn’t deserve to be trapped there either… Stop pouting, Eric. I’ll spell it all out for you in simple terms later.”
Eric bit his lip and turned his head. He’d been so afraid of Mira despising him, but at least that would have made sense. She was looking at him with this calm, gentle, almost pitying look, and his brain couldn’t reconcile it. “But Q… Q is definitely dead, though,” he muttered. Did she not believe that either? Did she love Eric so much that she could ignore it? Or was she just that heartless?
“It’s funny that you’d think I’d care.” As Eric was starting to worry about what kind of woman he’d fallen in love with, Mira’s hand shot out and landed on his thigh. The touch was new and intriguing, the last thing he’d expected. And it made all his worries flicker out of existence. “You’re certainly not the man I thought you were. But the most surprising thing is that I think I like it.” Her other hand went under his chin, moving his head to meet her gaze. “You’re ruthless,” she said with a glint in her eye Eric had never seen before. “It’s quite something to see.”
Mira kissed him then with more passion than she ever had. Tongue, too. Eric worried for a moment about the man sitting in the back row, but eventually the world around them melted. Their surroundings didn’t matter anymore. The past didn’t, either. He smiled against her lips and let himself forget once again.
—
They got back home and made love for two days straight. Mira was commanding and intense, everything Eric had ever wanted. At the same time, her stark lack of experience eased his own insecurities. She tested out several pet names for him; as she purred them into his ear, he felt like he was worth something for once. They paused only to cook breakfast together, watch the new episode of Mira’s favorite reality show that she had missed while in Nevada, and sometimes just to rest and chat. Mira would lay her head on Eric’s chest, listening to his heartbeat, and mention things like Q or Sean or the Decision Game.
But none of that mattered. The past was all a dream. Nothing existed but her and now and domestic bliss. Eric would just laugh when she tried to bring up anything else.
“What happened to you?” Mira asked him. “How did you get to be so… happy?”
It wasn’t happiness so much as it a delirium. But it was a good one. In Eric’s eyes, Mira’s apartment was awash in pinks and gentle yellows and she was haloed in a soft, hazy blur. His head felt stuffed with cotton and he could hear those distant waves behind his eardrums. It was a trance. It was wonderful. He never wanted it to break.
As their two perfect days wore on, Mira’s eyes dulled with boredom. She lamented, “You have more important things to teach me than this.” Eric supposed he knew that this couldn’t last and that soon they would have to get back to their lives. But that life would be perfect, too: booming careers, a happy family, and so much love, forever and ever and ever. They were happy, and nothing would be able to stop them.
