It can be tough to love a man who keeps trying to dissect you.
Martin Rem knows his beloved Dr. Avenroyth isn’t dead, because he brought him back with his own hands — although that’s more than he can say to the police.
🧪 Witness a man transformed against his will in a manner both monstrous and sublime.
🧪 Accompany a lost soul as his search for the object of his obsessive devotion leads him into a labyrinthine network of conspiracy and murder.
🧪 Revel in villainous excess as they conduct unethical yet homoerotic experiments on each other.
A COMPANION IN VICE is a gothic-noir hybrid novel about hazardously toxic queer romance and mad science — a chapter per week, sent (for free!) directly to your inbox — beginning as soon as it's ready.
𝜗ৎ stuntman!toji is very bad at communicating [SFW]
Toji went back to the hollow apartment in the days that followed.
Jack Daniel’s proved to be his only dinner.
The week crawled toward Saturday. Fushigoru had been itching to talk to Reina, but didn’t know how. Didn’t have her number. Didn’t even know if she owned a cell phone. Half of him wanted to show up at her apartment—and then say what, exactly?
So he did what men like him did best. Bought things.
He walked into Ralph Lauren, looked at a jacket he guessed Reina might like, and tucked it under his arm as he made his way back to the car and into Olvera Street.
The courtyard seemed to exist in a perpetual loop—kids playing, shouting, arguing over nothing. The scene hadn’t changed much since his visit the week before, except the asphalt had cooked off and the streetlights flickered like they were tired of their job.
He parked along the curb and crossed toward the courtyard.
“Hey, kid,” he muttered from behind the checkered boundary.
His voice turned a few heads. Some kids scrambled. Olvera wasn’t exactly the kind of neighborhood where strange men called out to children. He had worked this area before—hit-and-runs, dope, bodies that stayed unnamed. The works.
One kid peeled off from the group and walked over.
“What’s up?”
Toji crouched so they were eye level.
“You know where Reina lives?”
The kid frowned.
“Man, we got like five Reina livin’ here. Which one you lookin’ for?”
Toji bit a curse under his breath. Fuck. He didn’t even know her last name.
“Uh— she uhh writes?” he said.
The kid rolled his eyes.
“Wears glasses?”
“Yeah. Yeah.”
The kid pointed toward the third floor.
“34C.”
Fushigoru nodded and jogged up the stairs.
The building wasn’t exactly dirty. It wasn’t clean either. It existed in that in-between space—grime worn smooth by time. The staircase twisted upward, narrow and endless. No windows. The overhead light flickered like it might give up any second.
By the time he reached the third floor, his chest felt tight for reasons that had nothing to do with the climb.
The hallway smelled faintly of cigarettes and old cooking oil. Green paint peeled off the walls in tired strips. The switch beside her doorframe was busted clean through.
34C.
He knocked. Once. Twice.
“JESUS, I’M COMING.”
Fushigoru shifted his weight. The door opened with a reluctant groan.
Reina stood there, squinting. The knot at the back of her head was doing its best to be a bun and failing. Her pupils were blown wide. A threadbare Guns N’ Rosees shirt hung off her shoulders, swallowing her frame, shorts barely visible beneath it.
Recognition set in. A grin tugged at her mouth.
“Hey, jackie chan,” she drawled. “Got a bounty on me or some shit?”
Toji smiled despite himself. Her vowels slid into each other, her tone softened by whatever she’d taken.
“You forgot something at my place,” he said.
Her brows lifted. He handed her the jacket, folded neatly. She stared at it like it might bite.
“Huh?” She turned it over, fingers testing the leather. Then she laughed—short, incredulous.
“Ah, nah, man. This ain’t mine. Too costly. Can’t afford this shit. Probably some other chick’s.”
She handed it back.
His jaw tightened.
“You can have it—”
She froze, staring at him like he’d grown another head.
“Nah, man. I ain’t taking some chick’s jacket. That’s weird-ass voodoo shit. Bad luck.”
“You can keep it,” he said.
“Girl, what?”
Toji sighed, already feeling the headache bloom.
“I’m giving it to you.”
She opened her mouth to argue—then really looked at him. Something clicked.
“Oh,” she said. Then, quieter, amused. “Ohhh. Oh, man. You’re flirting with me.”
A beat.
“Oh shit. It’s a gift.”
She took the jacket.
“I’m a little high,” she added, almost apologetic.
He rolled his eyes.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” She rubbed at her face. “You gonna snitch me for substance use or some shit?”
He chuckled.
“Not yet.”
Reina glanced back into her apartment, then down at the jacket in her hands. She exhaled.
“You, uh…” She hesitated, then shrugged. “You wanna come in?”
—fin
this is part II of my series hold up hollywood, go and read the first one<3 (next part coming soon)
hope ya'll liked this one, all notes appreciated T—T
Serial Fiction - literature that is released in sequential installments, much like the format of an episodic TV show. However, serialization isn’t just taking a full novel and releasing it chapter by chapter—each published installment in a serial book form is like its own contained short story or novella, usually with loosely connected narratives.
How to Write Serial Fiction
Outline your overarching story. An appealing aspect of writing serialized novels is that writers do not have to write the whole thing all at once. While everyone’s creative process is different, it’s useful to at least know what you want to happen—or what you expect to happen—when serializing a story. Outlining your serialized book provides you with a roadmap to follow, as well as various details to keep track of. You can always deviate from your blueprint, but it can be helpful to keep a general direction in mind.
Center your story around a character. Since the narratives may vary from chapter to chapter, one of the more important elements of serialized fiction is character. Readers will keep up with installments as long as they are invested in the main characters. For instance, Stephen King’s serial novel The Green Mile spends six installments following the supernatural experience and life events of its complex characters: falsely-accused death row inmate John Coffey and death row supervisor Paul Edgecomb. In The Pickwick Papers, cockney comic relief Sam Weller (representing the common English class) is introduced in the fourth chapter and immediately becomes a fan favorite, accelerating the serial novel’s popularity and effectively launching Charles Dickens’ writing career. Forming an emotional connection between your audience and your protagonist by creating a vivid, relatable, and memorable character is key to keeping your audience invested in your world.
Keep your audience coming back for more. Each chapter of your serial novel should have a compelling conclusion, but that doesn’t mean it needs to be neat and tidy. Cliffhangers leave your readers in suspense, ramping up the tension and leaving them excited for the next story—but certain setups or plotlines should have some kind of resolution without ending the story altogether in order to deliver a satisfying payoff to your readers.
Reasons to Write Serial Fiction
Serial fiction is written to be delivered in pieces, leaving readers eager for the next installment. There are many reasons why writing serial fiction can be beneficial for writers:
A serial format keeps the story interesting. To get the audience to come back for new books on a regular basis, each installment usually has a compelling ending, while also setting up an intriguing enough story for the next chapter. Serial fiction keeps a writer brainstorming, allowing you to come up with new ways to progress your narrative. Each part should tell a complete enough story to satisfy readers, while also leaving enough for them to look forward to—which is great practice for writers everywhere.
A serial format gives you time to reset. Some authors choose to write their serial novel all at once, while others prefer to write in real-time, only starting the next chapter once the previous one has been published. By having a set period of time between each release, you give yourself fresh eyes to revisit your storyline, as well as prior installments. Sometimes, less-obvious details may surface, giving you potential new options for your story arcs.
A serial format keeps you writing. It’s important to maintain momentum when you publish serial fiction—writers don’t have a lot of time to amass a graveyard of first drafts. A set schedule (and an expectation from your audience) can force you to write regularly, which is beneficial if you have a hard time staying consistent. Whether your serialized fiction is published on a monthly or bi-weekly basis, having a deadline to meet can keep you writing from your first episode to your last.
A serial format gives you time to build a platform. A great writer’s work can sometimes go unnoticed due to a lack of advertising power (and money), especially in the self-publishing space. Serial fiction gives your work time to circulate, hopefully catching new readers in between installments, widening your audience base.
Home at last. Which is to say at 3pm -- Mondays are pretty short as far as classes go.
I set my laptop down on the rough landlord carpet and plug in its charger before plopping into my desk chair. Wobbling the mouse a bit, I relax with a sigh in front of my desktop computer. They REALLY gotta do something about the chairs in the classrooms, I swear...
Switching workspaces, I verify that there's no emails and that Canvas is still basically down. Normally I'd look over my notes and try to find whatever Wikipedia article ChatGPT plagiarized for the professor so I could read it over myself in more detail, but I didn't even get anything today because... Wait, has she...?
I open Discord, then run updates because of course it's been months since I even touched it. At least it seems like the package repositories for this stuff didn't get hit by The Boule or whatever the heck people are calling it. After spending the whole load time gratuitously patting myself on the back for using Linux, I dig around in the UI to find the Friends section. Nope, nothing. I guess she did say she was going to class.
Ada Lovetrace... I hope I made an... ok first impression. I guess she did say that she connected to me on purpose? And she did treat me to lunch. Just for business though! I can't let myself get carried away.
I remember the way her ears -- antennae? -- wagged up and down as she got lost in thought.
NOPE!!! No getting carried away. NOT a date!!!
"For the record, it is a good name." I feel myself starting to blush.
Yeah ok she did compliment me ONCE but maybe it's just because she felt bad pushing the whole name situation. There's GOTTA be something else to fixate on about... everything that happened today...!!!
"I recommend experimenting when you are home with your own devices."
THAT'S IT!!! My probably-useless-but-still-brand-new superpower!
I seat myself deeper into my chair and press my two forefingers into my temples psychic-style and concentrate. Concentrate on... wait how the heck did I even do it the first time?
I suppose it probably starts with actually picking a device I want to connect to -- even if I was being an embarrassing creep, the connection was probably helped along because I was thinking about NOT thinking about Ada's antennae. Poking around with LSPCI on my desktop doesn't reveal any obvious bluetooth cards, but it would probably be a hassle to figure out how to do things using my bare-bones setup anyway. Let's start a bit simpler...
Instead I fish my phone out of my knee-side cargo pocket. Yeah, this should be an easier first attempt. Wake, swipe, long-press, password... there! Now I should be able to connect to it.
I resume my psychic temple-pressing, keeping my eyes open this time to focus on my phone's bluetooth aura or something. And also make sure the screen doesn't turn off. I... don't... read anything in my head. Or hear. Or get a list of devices...? I start rubbing my temples in circles. I stop long enough to tap the screen awake then continue thinking REAAALY hard about my phone's--
Something moves on the screen. Oh... She said SHE connected to ME.
I tap on the entry that just appeared under the "Pair New Devices" section. The one next to my bluetooth speaker and car radio. "Selina."
[Pairing with FP4-PIXIE. Please confirm PIN - 9210]
Oh my gooooosh... I'm the HEADPHONES in this relationship...???????????? I push my face into my hands and try to ignore the warmth of blush filling my cheeks.
[Please confirm PIN - 9210]
Shoot right, here. 9210. Uh. 0x0a? I think that's a [PIN confirmed. Bluetooth connected.] oh right wow ok nice!
I only have a half second before I'm BLASTED with a firehose of data I CANNOT read.
WOW ok no wait "No I don't want to sync my contacts."
It quiets down again. I hold for a moment to make sure a second blast doesn't catch me unaware.
My phone screen starts to dim.
Ok good we're good. I guess... lemme see... OH does this give me...?
I open my music app and scroll to a single I downloaded over the weekend, "BurstMode" by "][acker." After turning the volume down to just a single notch above silent, I hit play.
Noise. Not sound, not the noise of chiptune-dubstep fusion, but actual nonsense. Even though it should be audio, I still feel like I'm reading it. Like a ticker tape of Morse Code if it was played at a million beeps per second.
I pause the music and lean my head on a hand. Well dang. I guess it is all just numbers, after all. I was able to read text just fine, though...? Oh, or maybe it could be an encoding thing, bluetooth is probably not sending a lossless .WAV file. If that's how my... ear-brain even works? At least I can't blow out my eardrums with this, apparently.
I pick up my phone and-- wait what is that? A small black triangle, a mouse cursor, sits in the middle of the pause button on my music player. I didn't... wait. Maybe I DID connect a mouse!
I prop my phone against my desktop monitor so I can really make sure it's not just my fingers bumping the screen. Home. Click-swipe. Scroll. I'm looking at my app listing now. Scroll. Tap. Load... Tap Scroll tap. I missed the button I was aiming for, but I opened minesweeper! Hoppy crap I'm doing it! I'm using my phone with my mind!!!
Home Swipe Scroll Notes!!! Aim... yeah tap for a new document. If I'm a mouse, the keyboard is just right next door...!!! H... E... L...
The screen starts filling with junk characters.
DANG IT c'mon, it's GOTTA be easier than the mouse!
Click-drag to select the paragraph.
0x7F
Good, now let's try WAIT that's not a thing a mouse does!?
0x61
A single "a" on screen. Oh my gosh oh my gosh oh my--
0x6548 6c6c 206f 6f57 6c72 2164 0a
"aeHll ooWlr!d"
Ooooh ok hold on. All the letters are there. But "World" stole one of the o's from Hello? No but it's at the end... wait! Click drag "delete".
0x4865 6C6C 6F20 576F 726C 6421
"Hello World! YESSSSS!!!! YES YES YES OH MY GOSH IT WORKS I CAN TYPE ALL I WANT IN MY PHONE HOITOENDOEIHTDAHBKBTICHRL WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!"
I leap from my chair and hop around my room. All this excitement is flooding out of my chest through my arms and legs straight out of my hands and feet; I feel like I could LEAP straight into the ceiling!!! Instead, I jump very high as a pump my hands in the air.
Ok! Let's try this on my LAPTOP now!!!
---
I'm flat on my back in the middle of the floor. I reach over to a box on the floor, tip it over slightly, and pull out a pack of fruit gummies to snack on. GOSH! This is. Wholly cow, how long has it been since I've gotten THIS excited for computer stuff? This lost in a new toy? It's gotta be since... about a year into lockdown?
Right. Yeah, before the whole Blockchain craze...
I start running through my calendar in my head as I sit up. I kind of want to find an adapter before the weekend, but I don't know if that's the kind of dongle they'd stock in the Walmart electronics section. Maybe there's adapters for bluetooth controllers that would work...? It's probably for the better if I just drive down to the mall and try to find a GOOD one, though. It IS connecting to my brain. So... Wednesday, I guess. After class.
After a big stretch, I throw the last of the gummies in my mouth and stand up. The clock on my open laptop shows 9pm. Yeah, probably best if I just go to bed. Too late for dinner. I will myself to NOT check my desktop for the 20th time for Ada's friend request.
Having put down my potent distraction, though, my mind still gravitates back to what started this all. I need to make sure to thank Ada. Not that she CAUSED this, but I don't know how long it would have taken me to notice this "change" in the first place if she hadn't connected to me in the first place. Why DID she even do that, anyway? That could have just been someone's laptop or phone or something, right?
I finish pulling on my pajama shirt, an oversized Tetris graphic tee that goes down to my knees, and move to the bathroom to brush my teeth.
I mean, surely she saw MY laptop on the list, right? My "Tabletti Junior?" And she said my name pretty shortly after joining, that's not really a thing to do with computers.
Brusha brusha brusha...
I wonder if she'll connect with me again? I would like that, but... what do I say to her if she does? I can tell her about being able to type with my mind, but... she's probably already figured out how to do that with her own bluetooth. That's why she told me to experiment. It's probably nothing special.
I rinse and put my toothpaste away in the medicine cabinet. My eyes catch on the lubricant I have on the same shelf. A spike of guilt sinks into my chest.
...yeah no. She's probably way better off than me. Too good for that. She's a lesbian, anyway, don't get carried away just 'cause a girl talked to you for the first time, geez...
I flop into bed. I grab both my thick comforters and nestle myself into a blankie burrito as best as I can. The pressure succeeds in soothing me enough that I... eventually...
---
"Alright, everyone! Because I forgot to give you assignments while at Google Con, everyone has to give a tech presentation today."
Of course this would happen to me. I knew I should have been ready to defend my knowledge at the drop of a hat...
"I am ready to present a matter of recent research."
"Ada once again top of the class, ready to go! You have the stage."
"Thank you." Ada stands wearing a turtleneck sweater and a long skirt.
Don't think about how snug that sweater is on her just focus on eye contact eye contact eye contact eye--
Ada makes direct eye contact in return.
[DOWNLOADING INCOGNITO HISTORY]
Oh no, I accidentally sent her my incognito history!!!
A slideshow appears, the title filling the entirety of the conference hall behind Ada. "Fapping Habits of Lonely Computer Freaks"
NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
---
I wake with a jump. I feel my body bounce subtly in the mattress. Conference hall? I have to defend... I... I was worried about something... I shudder. My dreams have been too weird lately...
Shower, brush teeth, breakfast... the morning prep passes without further issue -- unless I count opening Tumblr when the site is still broken. You'd think weeks of outage would beat the habit out of me...
As I'm packing up my laptop bag, I look over at my desktop.
I pause. Just once.
I wiggle the mouse. A red dot with a one inside it snaps into focus. Shoot wait friend request wait wait wait--
[User LoveTrace has sent a friend request.]
Hello. This is Ada from Machine Learning.
I like your profile picture. Did you draw it yourself?
I hit "accept" in the UI to confirm her friend request, then start scanning over the screen. Profile picture? I don't remem--
A familiar picture, one I remember very clearly. A pencil drawing of a fox kemonomimi with something like a VR headset pulled up onto her forehead. Her fluffy cuteness is only surpassed by her bright optimism, though each is dampened somewhat by amateur artistry. Roughly sketched or not, there she sits, positioned directly next to my username.
I wrote a fictional diary in 2004 -2007. There are over 500 entries. The blog was deleted many years ago but have decided to put it back. I have recovered all of the entries and most of the podcast. If you want to follow along here is the link to journal entry 1.
I finally found a new journal to write in. I found it at the plaza. I paid a hefty price. Nevertheless, I desperately needed something to wr
