Baby

Direct sequel to Binding but this makes sense as a standalone.


I knew I was doing the right thing.

I just wish it didn’t have to hurt so much.

It was strange, hidden in the heavy rain, body wound tight like a cat about to pounce, watching the mobsters and gangsters move across the oil platform. It was my first time I would be doing anything like this, yet my mind couldn’t escape the fact that I had hurt someone.

The Suit wasn’t made for me; it was made for the world. We, as a team, wanted to save the world, so we designed a suit that could protect anyone no matter the cost.

I stole it because he scared me. There was this look in Hector’s eyes that didn’t seem right. This greed, this insatiable thirst for something he was too scared to say out loud, and of course I understood that. I wanted things for the world too.

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Two Scoops

It was Ice Cream Day and everyone in the high school cafeteria had been treated to delicious ice cream, and this warmed Donnie’s heart so much that he secretly cried in front of the lunch lady as she ladled it to him. But his tears quickly turned to dismay as he realized that he only had one scoop.

He was a big guy and for his tremendous gut to be taken care of, he would need two scoops. But he didn’t want to say anything and make a scene, so he shuffled along with the other students.

Five minutes into lunch, Donnie forgot about his quarrel with the cafeteria staff, partially because he was dimwitted and forgetful, and partially because he was incredibly out of touch with his feelings.

Donnie liked lunchtime because he didn’t really have to talk or think or do anything really. He could just shovel food into his face and not even care. Because when he was with the boys, he was the King of the Cafeteria.

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One More Final: I Need You (an Evangelion fanfic)

The ocean of blood went as far as the eye could see. Unspeakable anguish in the place of the midsummer land that was once their home. The Third Impact.

Somehow, the world was able to become what they knew it to be after the Second Impact. People were able to come together and rebuild, and breathe life into something so hollow and so longing.

Miss Misato witnessed that, but it very much seemed like she was gone, as was anyone else. All that remained was Shinji’s feeble hands clutched to her throat, thumb against the windpipe.

Numb.

She guessed that she felt numb. It was hard to say.
Continue reading “One More Final: I Need You (an Evangelion fanfic)”

Katrinick

This is the 50th post on this blog so I decided to put together a self-reflection piece on where I am in life right now.  A bunch of my old characters show up but you can read it out of context.  If there’s an underlined thing, that means it’s a link to that character’s story.

My depression hit me really hard this year and if it wasn’t for some of my wonderful friends and this blog here, I don’t think I’d be alive.  Honestly.

So thank you so much for being part of this and I really hope you enjoy it. Continue reading “Katrinick”

It Gets Easier

It gets easier.

Words that don’t really mean anything, always said in the same wishy-washy way. Both of their hands on her wrist, a thumb bumping against the red ridges. Even in the ultimate paradise, her scars would always follow her. That promised relief never granted to her.

She wanted it to be over, no, she needed it to be over. Therapy wouldn’t help, friends couldn’t help, and everything she ever loved had become empty.

So many times had Emilia recited this explanation in the afterlife. Even just thinking about it was exhausting.

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How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Defuse the Bomb

Straight ahead of her: A highly skilled mercenary with a kill count in the triple digits.

“Ten.”

Above her: A nuclear missile about to annihilate many innocent lives.

All around her: A team of vigilantes fighting off against hordes of goons atop an oil platform.

Way, way above her: Victor Cauchmeer, a mad scientist bent on wreaking the most havoc he could wreak. His mission was to be on the cover of Villain’s Monthly in a flattering way at least twice.

“There’s nothing you can do,” Lydia Irving, famed mercenary, smirked, her body finally loosening after a drawn out brawl. “The bomb is going to nail your little city whether you beat me or not.”

Make that a kill count in the septuple digits.

“Nine.”

Continue reading “How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Defuse the Bomb”