Updated: September 2, 2024

Updated: September 2, 2024

Reworked Character #3: Eri Kasamoto

POTENTIAL TRIGGER WARNING: Viewer discretion is advised due to references to abandonment, abuse, underage drinking, crime, unhealthy relationships, death, and SA.

Real name: Chizuko Kawaguchi

Alias: Memphis Bomb Princess

Occupation: Staff Sergeant of the S.P.A.R.R.O.W.S., Ptolemaios’ second-in-command (formerly), and the leader of a street gang (formerly)

Retirement plans: Open up an inclusive orphanage in Hiroshima

Special skills: Orchestrating stealth missions and suppression operations, proficiency in explosives, survival techniques, lock picking, and brainwashing

Hobbies: Swimming, kickboxing, going outside to appreciate nature, thinking about her past mistakes and what she could have done better, and playing card games with her friends that include some sort of bet

Likes: Fio (views her as an older sister), Marco (views him as a brave leader who requires comfort and sympathy), pyrotechnics, aimless walks, and a keychain that was gifted to her by her ex-girlfriend

Dislikes: Blissful ignorance, overly mischievous and lazy people, being touched without permission, remembering the worst parts of her past, and Tarma (especially his stupidity and hotheadedness)

Favourite food: Vodka

Sexuality: Homoflexible sapiosexual

Gender: Female

Age: 16 (in 2022), 22 (in 2028), 24 (in 2030), 26 (in 2032), 28 (in 2034), 35 (in 2041), 37 (in 2043), 38 (in 2044), and 41 (in 2047)

Blood type: B-

Weight: 126 lbs. (57 kg)

Design: She’s a 5’ 6” (167.64 cm) Japanese ectomorph with an athletic, sylph-like build, broad shoulders, sand-hued skin, and top scars. She has dark brown eyes with visible bags beneath them and fingernails that are painted a metallic green. She has jet-black hair with choppy bangs that has been bleached dirty blonde and is styled in a mid-back shaggy wolf cut, often worn up in a ponytail. Eri has a jarring diagonal scar that runs from the left side of her temple, across the bridge of her nose, to her right levator scapulae muscle. She also has stab scars on the palm of her right hand, cut marks on her right forearm, the skin on her arms and shoulders have been picked at, and her legs are riddled with scrapes. She lost her left forearm in a traumatic incident, later receiving a metallic silver prosthetic replacement from Ptolemaios during her training. She dons green gold snake bite and silver jestrum piercings, and her makeup features a glittery artichoke green smoky eyeliner, light brown mascara, and a cherry blossom pink lip gloss.

Eri’s military gear consists of an olive green bandana on her head, a metal dog tag necklace with her name, and a black headset for communication with her snipers. She wears a black bra, myrtle-hued sleeveless button midriff, and a satin crimson sash. She wears a purplish-grey unbuttoned coat with ripped sleeves, four pockets, and a hidden strap compartment that holds her electrical baton. On the back of her jacket is the logo of the S.P.A.R.R.O.W.S., which Fio kindly embroidered for her. Her purplish-grey army cargo pants were tucked into black combat boots and held up by a silver-buckled dark teal belt around her waist. She has a sheath for her combat knife and a drop leg holster for her handgun with a silencer.

She wears a black gas mask with red-tinted lenses, olive green gloves, black knee and elbow pads, and sage-streaked silver tassel earrings. She wears a keychain necklace featuring a fiery comet encircling a reddish-purple amethyst, carved into the shape of a human heart. Eri is adorned with two black steel armlets, one on each arm: the right armlet has a circular green crystal at its centre, while the left armlet has a red one. The green crystal grants her the power to unleash grey lightning, while the red crystal, forged from a fragment of Sol Dae Rokker, can summon deadly, wolf-shaped spirits that dive-bomb enemies.

Over her midriff, she dons a Soldier Plate Carrier System (SPCS) with a MultiCam pattern, which carries around her walkie-talkie and ammo for other firearms. She carries around a sage green load-bearing backpack that contains camping equipment, grenades, fire bombs, mines, portable ammo boxes, a canteen full of water, three canisters of gasoline, a rocket launcher, and a bottle of vodka. Her olive green waist pack, secured at the back of her belt, holds a silvery flask of vodka, a matchbox, and a compact makeup kit containing her eyeliner, mascara, and lip gloss. The pockets of her coat contain a pack of fruity bubblegum, a navy blue lighter, a rainbow-coloured bouncy ball, and her lucky gold Kaiki Shoho coin. Meanwhile, her cargo pants hold lockpicking tools and three boxes of cigarettes. She has worn gauze wrapped around her right forearm, a gun holster for her handgun, and a sheath for her machete. She's still in possession of a Ptolemaic Army-commissioned scoped bolt-action rifle, which is often draped over her left shoulder.

Personality: She's a vengeful, sarcastic, cynical, tomboyish leader who’s overprotective of Fio and will stop at nothing to brutally hurt anyone she perceives as a threat to her closest friend. She has a sadistic streak, evident in her peculiar habit of smearing her enemies' blood on herself to intimidate others. When focused on her military duties and protecting those she respects and cares about, she tends to neglect her own needs. Eri's outspoken and crass demeanour shows no fear in speaking her mind, telling others off, and using profanities. As a self-reliant and lonesome individual, she’s bitter and aloof towards those she dislikes and strangers. She has a tendency to engage in dishonest behaviour and manipulate situations to her advantage. When confronted about these actions, she often responds with aggressive language and contradictory arguments. She holds immense respect for the deities, particularly Sol Dae Rokker, and will go to great lengths to worship and make sacrifices to them, often using the remains of her defeated enemies..

She fearlessly rebels against anything she deems morally wrong or a life-threatening risk. With her enemies, she shows no mercy, and her military missions showcase her exceptional resourcefulness, cunning, and tactical prowess. She is capable of sympathy and offering wise advice, but her willingness to do so greatly depends on the situation and her personal connection with the individual. Eri regards her team of rebel Ptolemaic soldiers, Fio of the S.P.A.R.R.O.W.S., Marco and Trevor of the P.F. Squad, Ralf and Clark, the top dogs of the Ikari Warriors, Tequila, Red Eye, and Hyakutaro, Tyra, and Walter of Division 6 as family. She harbours significant animosity towards Tarma, seeing him as a hot-headed idiot who only causes trouble and can't take things seriously. Despite her best efforts to tolerate him, she can't help but snap at him when his silly antics go too far, he inadvertently ruins a plan, or he gets too flirtatious and physically close to Fio.

She lives with claustrophobia, mild social anxiety, insomnia, atypical depression, and borderline personality disorder. To cope with her mental health struggles, she often presents herself as highly intelligent, serious-minded, and seductive. However, when anger takes hold, her emotions can be difficult to contain, although she strives to maintain some self-control. Notably, Eri prefers not to be called by her old name, as it evokes memories of her past trauma, which she’s trying to desperately forget. She's a hardened pessimist, often appearing exhausted, yet she consistently demonstrates resilience and stubborn determination. She has immense compassion for those who endured a difficult childhood and does her best to offer comfort and support. She can't help but feel jealous towards those who have loving parents and weren't abandoned by them. When she's had too much to drink, she becomes prone to argumentativeness, physical aggression, and melancholy, and often sleepwalks.

She has a deep-seated distrust of Christianity, believing that many people hypocritically exploit God and Jesus' teachings to conceal their true intentions. She also thinks that certain Christian teachings clash with the harsh realities of life. Furthermore, she believes that God seems apathetic to humanity's well-being, watching them suffer endlessly, letting evil to continuously flourish, and restricting the potential for salvation. She holds that morality is culturally relative, and therefore, there are no universal moral laws, making it challenging to distinguish right from wrong.

In her view, human societies construct their values based on their distinct beliefs, customs, and practices, which are also influenced by social and emotional pressures. She believes that individuals have a moral obligation to protect innocent lives and uphold the goodness inherent in justice. Regarding war, she thinks it can be justified if it meets certain criteria: it’s openly declared by a governing authority, has a just cause, and aims to establish a lasting peace. She acknowledges the coexistence of life and death but does not see a clear connection between the two.

Backstory: Chizuko Kawaguchi was born on June 6, 2006 in Hiroshima, Japan. She was abandoned as an infant at the entrance of a Christian church by her parents, who had wanted a son instead of a baby girl. Her name was discovered on a piece of paper tucked inside her baby carriage. She was raised by the Christian church where she was sent to live, an institution with a strict religious environment. There, children who misbehaved were subjected to psychological reprimands. During Chizuko’s younger years, she acted out as an attention-seeking troublemaker, but was frequently punished through humiliation and isolation in a dark closet. She endured occasional physical abuse and emotional manipulation by the church orphanage staff who used the threat of eternal damnation to control her behaviour. This treatment had a profound effect on her, making her quiet, nervous, and obedient. As a result, she grew to resent the church, finding its teachings to be at odds with the harsh realities of her own life. She eventually lost faith in God, feeling that He seemed indifferent to human suffering, allowing it to persist without genuine intervention or care.

At the age of 6, Chizuko met Tarma and quickly befriended him after building a sandcastle and searching for worms under a heavy rock. This chance encounter taught her that there were kind people outside of her church community, and she had opportunities to form new connections and discover herself. She met up with Tarma a few more times until he stopped visiting Hiroshima, leaving her feeling alone and sorrowful.

Once she figured out the ways of the world, she escaped from the sanctuary of the church at the age of 12, alongside a small group of friends, eager to taste the forbidden fruit of the world. Seeking vengeance, she and her friends burned down the church orphanage in retaliation for the abuse they had endured. Most of her early life remains private. However, her invigorating and tomboyish nature lended her as a capable leader, founding a gang of street kids. They engaged in criminal activities, primarily petty theft, drug sales, weapon trafficking, and murder.

Details about this period are scarce, but it's known that Chizuko developed a fondness for vodka during this time. She would also go through a couple of romantic relationships with girls. Her first relationship was short-lived after she quickly discovered that her girlfriend was using her for financial gain. Her second relationship seemed to be going well, but it ended when her girlfriend's parents found out about her being a delinquent and forbade their daughter from seeing her again.

At 16, she reunited with Tarma after he ran away from home, inviting him to hang out and drink beer and vodka. As they caught up on each other's lives, she began to flirt and get physically close, seeing him as someone she could trust. However, Chizuko’s desire to escape the past and run away from her problems clouded her judgement. They spent many nights together, engaging in erotic activities, and she even convinced him to participate in a few crimes. But everything changed when Tarma abruptly ended things and returned home to Hokkaido. Devastated, she felt betrayed, despite having used him to fulfill her own desires and advance her gang interests. This experience explains her lingering animosity towards Tarma.

Her leadership skills and her gang had continued to grow successfully, but that success was short-lived. At 19, Hiroshima was suddenly attacked by multiple bombings from a mysterious group, resulting in the loss of thousands of lives, including her entire gang–her first true friends. This incident sent the Japanese populace into a deep state of panic and uncertainty. In the chaos, she also suffered a devastating injury, losing her left forearm. With quick thinking, she managed to improvise a tourniquet by tearing the sleeves of her medium-sleeved shirt and stemming the bleeding.

While treating her injury, she was approached by a brown-haired, grey-eyed woman wearing the attire of a Ptolemaic guerilla. This guerrilla fighter didn't want to leave Chizuko behind, knowing she would feel terrible if left alone. So, she convinced Chizuko to come with her to meet up with Ptolemaios. Chizuko was hesitant at first, but with no other options, she took the opportunity. The guerrilla introduced herself as Emily Kuznetsova, and Chizuko decided to adopt a new name: Eri Kasamoto.

Unbeknownst to her, Ptolemaios had been observing Eri for some time, recognizing her potential as a valuable asset for his army. He took steps to provide her with specialised training to enhance her skills in espionage and further develop her militant abilities. Once she received a sufficient amount of training, he wasn't hesitant to make her his second-in-command, which stirred some jealousy amongst the commanding officers of the Ptolemaic Army. On his behalf, she was responsible for multiple stealth missions to further the technological advancement of the Ptolemaic Army.

During this time, she developed a close relationship with Emily, spending significant time together. Ptolemaios perceived this as a potential obstacle to his goals and sought to eliminate Emily. Emily's death was staged to appear as a suicide, with the circumstances surrounding it unclear. Eri was even sexually assaulted by a few commanding officers as Ptolemaios hoped that this would instill more fear in her and deter her from leaving. However, these two events had a profound impact on Eri, leading to feelings of grief and anger, and prompting her to re-evaluate her involvement with the Ptolemaic Army. She assembled a group of individuals who shared her desire to challenge Ptolemaios' authority. The group consisted of six guerrilla troops: Mikuláš, Ji-Yeong, Konrad, Dezső, Sipho, and Harvie; four snipers: Amilcare, Diomedes, Souma, and Manouel; and eight special forces operatives: Kemalettin, Jaroslavas, Dermot, Agenor, Shelomit, Franjo, Prabhakar, and Radovan.

During their fight against the Ptolemaic Army, they caused major setbacks and killed off many soldiers and cultists. As Eri fought against Ptolemaios, she learned that he was responsible for conducting the terrorist bombings in Hiroshima. She tried to end his life, but felt a malevolent presence stopping her from doing so, forcing her and her rebel Ptolemaic soldiers out of Ptolemaios' compound in Osaka, Japan. Shortly after this time, she ripped off the sleeves of her purplish-grey coat to use as tourniquets for a couple of her men. She also chose to acquire her top scars, her way of trying to forget the past, reject social norms placed on women and girls, and embrace her true identity.

At the age of 22, she and her team decided to apply for military service, working under the Intelligence Agency as a formidable group of agents. Eri made a name for herself in numerous missions, earning a reputation as a vengeful leader amongst the Regular Army. However, she began to feel increasingly disillusioned by the constant assassinations and conspiracies that weighed on her conscience, reminding her of her time with the Ptolemaic Army. She applied for a transfer to S.P.A.R.R.O.W.S., which was specially approved due to her exceptional record, indispensable skills, and intimate knowledge of the Ptolemaic Army's inner workings.

As the demolition and stealth expert of S.P.A.R.R.O.W.S., Eri led her rebel Ptolemaic soldiers with immense success. She befriended Fio and felt an instant, deep connection after a few interactions, viewing Fio as the sister she never had and vowing to protect her at all costs. She played a crucial role in the Great Morden War by providing Marco's team with explosives, emergency rations, and valuable intel on Rebel Army positions through stealthy infiltration. Eri showcased her advanced combat and leadership skills by helping to thwart Morden's second coup, which was aided by her team, Fio, Tarma, and Marco.

Apple Experiments

Word Count: 2500

POV: Third Person

Commission for: Laine

Note: i didnt know what pronouns to use for Colress so i went with what the commissioner referred to Colress as! If you do not like transfem Colress i suggest you look the other way! I have permission from Laine to post this!!

“This isn’t what I thought you had in mind when you said, ‘let’s go apple picking.’” Laine said, sitting on the ladder as Colress picked one of the low-hanging fruit.

They were currently in an orchard, a ladder stood up next to the tree that Laine was currently sitting on and Colress on the ground picking apples from the tree. Laine took an apple, bit into it, and watched as Colress examined the apples with such awe and amazement. She just couldn’t get it, how could Colress find apples of all things interesting now? Laine knows of all the things she could get up to, and in part she has helped him in the past. This time was no different, helping Colress find the perfect apple for her experiment.

“Apples are fascinating things, are they not?” Colress asked. “We eat them every day yet we don’t dare to distinguish between what makes a good apple and what doesn’t. Or what the difference between a biologically engineered apple or a fresh one is like.”

“Here we go…” Laine mumbled, putting her head in his hands. “Can’t we just pick apples like normal people?”

They weren’t the only ones in the orchard picking apples. Couples all around them picking different types of fruit, smiling and hugging each other as they had fun. Among the trees were oranges, peaches, and other fruits that people went to pick, meanwhile Colress was still here picking apples and examining them for her experiment. What that experiment was, Laine still didn’t know. Laine almost felt a little embarrassed sitting there on the ladder as Colress still stayed at the same tree for minutes at a time looking at apples that all honestly looked the same to Laine. There was something endearing about it all though.

Laine would be the only person to put up with Colress’ weird experiments. Laine was always the first person Colress went to if she needed help with an experiment. There was that one thing Colress needed help with an experiment on plants, and while most in her department called her insane, Laine was the only person to indulge her in her weird antics. And it worked, by the way. People were surprised to see that, yes, you could turn plants into animals. (She made a dog-plant hybrid of some sort.)

Laine didn’t mind it when Colress did weird and funky things like this. Sure, it was boring, but it was what Colress loved doing the most, and he couldn’t deny Colress. So, that’s what Laine ended up doing for most of the day; picking apples with Colress. Laine would eat the apples and Colress would examine whatever Laine didn’t eat. Laine was in for a long day, because Colress wasn’t stopping anytime soon. They had gone through about 40 apples by this time, and there were still apple trees full of the fruit waiting to be picked.

“Normal people?” Colress asked, “When have I ever been normal?”

“Never, sweetheart.”

“Then there’s your answer. Now, come, we’re done with this tree.”

Laine sighed, stepping down the ladder and hauling it with them as they made their way to the next tree. It wasn’t too unbearably hot outside, a nice spring breeze waved through the air, so that was a plus on Laine’s side. Colress thought it to be good as well, since the orchard would be in its prime for picking. She made sure it was the right time for this apple picking date (if you could call it that) so that the apples would be in their prime when they were picked. It was careful and meticulous planning on her part, spending days and nights trying to figure out the best day to pick apples.

“What do you mean you want to go pick apples?”

Laine asked this while sitting on the couch of their shared apartment. Colress seemed to be in another fit; this time about apples. She was pacing around the room mumbling to herself about apples and their taste and looks. Colress had been like this for days, non stop muttering about apples and in the lab doing research on all types of apples. Looking up red versus green, unripe versus ripe, waxed versus not. Laine sighed, knowing she’d never get out of this fit on her own, and stood up grabbing Colress by the shoulders lightly.

“Calm down. I’ll take you to an orchard.”

“You will?” there was an uncharacteristic amount of begging and enthusiasm behind that voice, something that Laine couldn’t help but say yes to.

“I will.”

Colress smiled big, wrapping her arms around Laine. Despite looking lanky and unforgiving, Colress gave the best hugs. There was something warm about the hugs she gave, especially since she gives them rarely. Laine would savor these hugs knowing that they weren’t given for free. It was a tight hug, probably from the fact that Laine was giving into Colress’ indulgences, and one that lingered on. Colress pulled away thinking in a frenzy.

“I have to plan! I have to figure out what day is best for picking apples…the wind speed, the temperature, even the location is all important!”

“Woah there, slow down Colress.”

“I can’t!” she exclaimed, walking away from Laine. “I have to figure this stuff out! I’ll see you in a bit!”

So she did. She spent the next few days figuring out what days were best. Wednesday’s weren’t the best due to the constant wind speed on those days, and Thursday wasn’t good either because of the rain. Monday’s were too busy, and Colress didn’t particularly like people all too much. Laine had to beg Colress to go to bed a few times because she would accidentally not sleep for a couple days, or eat. After all was said and on, Friday of next week was the best time to pick apples.

“Alright, do we have everything?” Laine asked.

Laine checked through her bag, looking for all the necessary things she was bringing with her. Half the stuff Laine didn’t even know the name to, and the other half he didn’t even know what it did. She just kept quiet and let Colress do her thing. With a single thumbs up from Colress, they headed off to the orchard. It was some orchard on the other side of town, apparently with a lot of good apples, as Colress said. It wasn’t too busy, and the temperature was just right this day. Everything was made sure to go to plan.

“When did you even have time to go check out this orchard?”

“A couple of days ago after some research on the orchards in town.” Colress said simply. “It took me a few hours but I found the perfect one with good apples.”

“What is your experiment anyways?”

Laine shrugged. “Not sure yet. Could be the biological foundations of apples or the differences between green and red. I just need to see them for myself to determine the next step.”

Colress was always doing things like this. Going into an experiment without a solid hypothesis. It wasn’t the most soundproof and ideal way to do an experiment, but it was Colress’ idea of a fun experiment. If you don’t know your hypothesis then there’s the fun in doing the experiment! Something that Colress’ would do is make up a hypothesis along the way, and Laine figured that’s what Colress’ was doing now. Making up a hypothesis to have a sound experiment.

Which brought Laine back to here, sitting at a new spot under the tree eating red apples that taste super sweet. The sun was now in the evening and most of the couples had left the orchard. Meanwhile, Colress was still as interested in apples as she was when she first came into the orchard. That made Laine have a question though. “What’s the difference between a green apple and red apple?”

“Colour, for one thing.” Colress started as she plucked another apple from the tree. “Taste is second. Green apples tend to be more sour than red apples, while red apples have a sweeter juicier taste. I suppose that’s what you’re tasting now.”

Colress was right. There were red and green apple trees and whenever Laine had tasted the green apples his face would scrunch and pucker up. Laine didn’t mind the sour taste of the green apples and continued eating them, and the red ones were juicier. They would often make a mess and drip down Laine’s face, which she had to wipe off the excess juice afterwards. There was something else that Laine had a question of…

“Anything else?”

“Their skin,” Colress said, poking the red apple in her hand with a gadget, “Red apples have thin skin and green apples have thicker skin. There’s also the vitamin differences too. Green apples have vitamin A, vitamin B, vitamin C, vitamin E and vitamin K, while red apples are full of antioxidants.”

That was something that Laine noticed whenever she bit into a red apple versus a green apple. It wasn’t much of a difference, but there was an obvious thickness to the green apples than the red ones. The way it was a tiny bit harder to bite into the green ones. They were cleaner, though, than the red ones. Laine chewed through the red of the apple in his hand and threw the core on the ground.

“What about unripe apples?”

“They’re usually smaller and greener. They also taste sour, much like green apples. I assume they taste even more sour than green apples…” Colress plucked an unripe apple and a ripe green apple. “Ripe apples have more colour and when you pluck them,” Colress plucked a ripe apple, “they come off the tree easily.”

On all the trees Laine did see apples that did look green, but not as green as the green apples they had been eating. They looked smaller, and had more spots on them than regular green apples. Laine had made the mistake of biting into one earlier and making a sour face as they threw the apple on the ground. It was unmistakably sour than a green apple, but Laine wouldn’t tell Colress that. She could find that out for herself.

Laine bit into a red apple, looking down at Colress who looked at the green apple with such intensity. “So, have you figured out your hypothesis yet?”

“Other than the sourness of a green apple versus an unripe apple, no. But I’m getting there.”

“It’s starting to get late,” Laine said, looking at the horizon. “We can always come back tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow it will rain.” Colress said in a deadpan still looking at the apple in her hand. “Won’t work tomorrow. At the least we’ll have to wait until next week, again.”

The sun was still high up in the sky that Colress could still search for a few more minutes, but it was starting to dip below the horizon-line. Laine didn’t much mind the night sky, but didn’t want to be spent in an orchard overnight either. Not that the owner would let them. They had a specific time they closed at, and Colress was nearing that time. Colress continued to examine more apples, having a basket full of them already piled up.

Although Laine complained about going to an orchard for simple research there was something about spending time with Colress that was endearing to his heart. The fact that Colress didn’t want Laine to do anything except sit there and hand her apples when she needed them. Laine guesses this is what people call ‘quality time’ in terms of expressions of love. Colress loved quality time, asking Laine to come into the lab whenever she was super busy just to keep her company. While it wasn’t Laine’s preferred expression, she still loved that Colress loved it.

“Havin’ fun there?” one of the owners of the orchard came by. “Pretty interested in the apples, ain’t she?”

Laine looked at Colress who looked at a green apple, before tossing it in the basket. Laine couldn’t blame Colress for her eccentricity though. If she was passionate about something she was going to put her mind to it. No one else would go through a million apples in an orchard just for an experiment. She was also persistent, and headstrong, not willing to leave until she had all the data she needed for her collection.

“Yeah…” Laine sighed. “Come on, Colress, it’s time to go.”

It was Colress’ turn to sigh, as she put up the clipboard in her bag and walked over to the basket full of apples. Despite her lanky figure she was strong, at least, strong enough to pick up a basket full of apples. Holding a basket full of apples, Colress nodded, and headed off towards the car. The owner of the orchard looked at her with wide eyes and his mouth agape. “Need that many apples?”

“Yeah.” Laine repeated, sighing again.

Laine got in the car with Colress while the apples sat in the backseat. The evening sky started to loom over them as they made it back to their apartment on the other side of town. The day was over just as quickly as it came. Laine thought of it to be a somewhat eventful day, spending time with Colress as she poked and prodded apples of all different kinds. The car ride was silent until Laine decided to break the tension between the two of them. “I thought this was a date.”

“A date?” Colress asked. “Did you want it to be?”

“Yes,” Laine grumbled. “But I didn’t mind. Watching you pick apples with that expression on your face is something that I love about you.”

“No…no,” Colress shook her head, “I mean. You want to date me?”

Laine looked at Colress in disbelief, but wore a smile on his face. “Sweetheart, we’re already dating.” Laine laughed. “We live together.”

“Oh…” Colress looked down at her lap, folding her hands together. “So this is dating…”

“You seriously didn’t know?” Laine asked, albeit a little more seriously now.

“I’m joking, of course.” Colress joked. “Of course, I know I’m dating you.”

“Oh, thank God.” Laine sighed in relief. “I had fun today.”

“I love you too,” Colress said, looking at Laine endearingly on the ride home.

It was moments like these that Colress wouldn’t dare to ever forget. Although she was known for her friendly nature, she wasn’t known for trusting so easily. Trusting, much less than loving someone. There was a sense of openness and vulnerability that came with loving someone as deeply as Colress loved Laine. A sense of belonging. Whenever Colress would look at Laine it was like her entire world would light up, knowing that there was someone in her corner to indulge in her every whimsy. Colress may have asked for a lot, but Laine was always there to give, and never asking for anything in return.

And Colress wouldn’t have it any other way.

LADY IRENÉ — ! 🌷

i— uhh, i drew another posené but in regency era because weeks ago i’m so head over heels again after bridgerton season 2 is out 😞☝🏻

ps. hit me up if you watch bridgerton too, bec it has been my obsession since its season 1, esp if you noticed which scene it is 👀

Reworked Character #5: Trevor Spacey

POTENTIAL TRIGGER WARNING: Viewer discretion is advised due to references to child abuse, neglect, suicide, death, crime, and drug addiction.

Real name: Yeong-Gi Kwak

Alias: Nerdy Knife Licker

Occupation: Sergeant of the P.F. Squad

Retirement plans: Become a security programmer

Special skills: Proficiency in security programming and computer hacking, repurposing stolen enemy technology, psychological manipulation, taekwondo, and knifesmanship

Hobbies: Helping Marco with technological issues and computer programming, doing graffiti on abandoned buildings and enemy bases, creating anti-virus programs, drawing manhwa, and playing darts and video games

Likes: Marco’s heroism and superior computer skills, tinkering with security software while listening to music that has grabbed his attention, reading psychological horror books, his two combat knives, and Nadia (his best friend)

Dislikes: Being called “old” due to his silver-bleached hair, laughing so much to the point he’s coughing and wheezing, people making fun of his art, faulty security software, and boredom

Favourite food: Samgyeopsal, slushies

Sexuality: Heterosexual

Gender: Male

Age: 13 (in 2022), 19 (in 2028), 21 (in 2030), 23 (in 2032), 25 (in 2034), 32 (in 2041), 34 (in 2043), 35 (in 2044), and 38 (in 2047)

Blood type: AB-

Weight: 148 lbs. (67 kg)

Design: He's a 5' 9" (175.26 cm) Korean ectomorph with a lanky build, a weak musculature, sloping shoulders, warm ivory skin, dark brown eyes, nails painted a silver-grey, and a black mole beneath the left corner of his lip. He has a jet-black undercut hairstyle, featuring icy blonde hair on top with nearly middle-parted bangs that fall over his left eye, covering it partially. On his back, he has a large tattoo depicting a fiery Jindo dog chasing a golden pheasant in orbit around the moon. His lower right leg was amputated due to gangrene caused by the use of the opioid Krokodil, and has since been replaced with a bronze-hued prosthetic. He bears several scars: a curved scar on his left cheek; an X-shaped pair on his chest; a jagged stab wound on the top of his right hand; a long scar running down the length of his left upper arm; and a series of parallel scars on his right forearm.

Trevor's military gear consists of a metal dog tag necklace with his name, a scarlet bandana worn around his neck, bronze-plated goggles with orange-tinted lenses, and glaucous fingerless gloves. He wears a ruddy blue sweater with two deep pockets, cerulean wool lining, a bronze zipper, silver-striped cuffs, and an embroidered logo of the P.F. Squad on the back, which he occasionally ties around his waist. He wears baggy Cambridge blue army cargo pants, tucked into his Russian violet paratrooper boots, which have hidden knives and are held up by a glaucous belt. He also wears a sleeveless reddish-black shirt with a mock neck and a bust mesh panel, sheathes for his two combat knives, and a gun holster for his handgun.

His sweater has two hidden strapped compartments that can hold up to two firearms or two additional blades when needed. The pockets of Trevor's sweater carry a bag of THC-infused red box gummies (given to him by Ralf), a gourd-shaped jade charm necklace believed to capture fortune and health, and a photograph of him and Nadia. He also carries around a metallic pink-purple lighter and a plastic bag that contains six weed joints. A claw hammer is concealed in the right pocket of his cargo pants, while the left pocket is occupied by a sound-cancelling, bluetooth headset and his black cellphone with a metallic blue case.

Over his shirt, he wears a Soldier Plate Carrier System (SPCS) with a MultiCam pattern, which carries his walkie-talkie and ammo for other firearms. A black bandolier is wrapped above his belt, holding onto the ammunition for his handgun. He carries a Cambridge blue load-bearing backpack containing tactical explosives, portable ammo boxes, a canteen full of water, seven cans of spray paint in different colours, a wide range of hacking tools such as the Flipper Zero and O.MG cables, and nunchucks. He has a collection of piercings, including: sapphire wire hook earrings; black industrial piercings; dark blue tragus piercings; a shiny silver barbell nose bridge piercing; a bold black horizontal eyebrow piercing on his left side; a metallic purple frog eyes tongue piercing; and a dainty gold hoop vertical labret piercing.

Personality: He's a stoic existentialist who focuses on what he can control, accepts what lies beyond his grasp, and believes in the power of individual free will to shape the course of one's life. He's a highly intelligent, cunning, and resourceful man who’s confident in his knife skills and computer knowledge, but can come across as overconfident at times. Despite Trevor’s easy-going demeanour and calm smile, he’s watchful, and his jovial nature often serves as a facade to conceal his underlying anxiety. He's easily amazed and intrigued by the wonders of nature, unexpected revelations, explosions, and impressive feats performed by his friends and comrades such as effortlessly hacking into an entire military mainframe. When discussing his interests or sharing fascinating experiences, he becomes quite talkative.

Trevor is an ambivert capable of being ruthless, intensely serious, and unsettling when the situation demands it. He's a skilled manipulator, able to turn enemies into allies in desperate situations by exploiting their morals and convincing them they're in the wrong. When manipulating others, he also instills fear through physical and psychological torment, such as breaking their fingers with a hammer or threatening to kill a loved one in front of them. However, he's unexpectedly stubborn when it comes to protecting those he cares about and the lives of innocent people. Trevor has a playful and mischievous streak, evident in his habit of licking his combat knives and taunting those he considers “morally weak” and “blindly stupid”. Unlike most people, he's willing to forgive his enemies when he realises they're suffering and have an opportunity to redeem themselves.

He occasionally participates in Nadia's antics, adding a touch of dramatic flair to them, but will draw the line when her schemes exceed his comfort zone. He’s often disappointed and shocked by Nadia's actions and words, frequently expressing his distaste and uncertainty. When he's extremely bored, he becomes lethargic and sleepy, making it challenging for him to muster interest in anything until the feeling passes. Trevor enjoys tagging along with Tarma, Marco, Eri, and Ralf because he regards them as role models, skilled fighters, and experts in their respective fields of expertise. Due to his upbringing, he struggles with golden child syndrome, but he has made significant progress in overcoming its challenges, thanks in large part to the support of friends like Fio. He's extremely allergic to felines, so he regards domestic cats as “diabolical little buggers” and makes every effort to avoid them.

Backstory: Yeong-Gi Kwak was born on June 25, 2009 in Seogwipo, Jeju Island, South Korea. He is the eldest of four siblings: his twin sister, Eun-Gyeong; his younger brother, Il-Seong; and his youngest brother, Seok-Jin. His father is a businessman who owns a computer software company, and his mother is a medical engineer. His parents, who were workaholics, put a lot of pressure on him and his siblings to be high achievers, believing that more effort and hard work would lead to a successful career. However, they were quick to forgive the faults of Yeong-Gi and Eun-Gyeong, allowing them to get away with more than their two younger brothers. As the oldest children in the family, his parents put a lot of pressure on him and his twin sister to set a good example and be proper role models for their two younger brothers.

This parenting style fed into Yeong-Gi's and Eun-Gyeong's need to consistently achieve, satisfying their perfectionistic and people-pleasing tendencies. Nevertheless, it also stirred an inflated sense of self in both, with Eun-Gyeong exhibiting signs of narcissistic personality disorder and Yeong-Gi experiencing a great deal of guilt on behalf of his two younger brothers. In contrast, Il-Seong was often scapegoated, frequently blamed for things he didn't do and severely punished by his parents, who would often lock him in the basement for hours. Meanwhile, Seok-Jin was neglected, retreating from his dysfunctional family by spending time alone in his room drawing or going to the park to play by himself. Yeong-Gi made a concerted effort to support Il-Seong and Seok-Jin, which undoubtedly brought some comfort and solace into their lives.

At the age of 3, Yeong-Gi received his first computer from his parents as a gift of appreciation. By the time he turned 7 years old, he had already developed a comprehensive understanding of binary codes and computer languages. During his summer breaks from school, he spent most of his time creating anti-virus programs, which often served as his homework assignments.

However, his dedication to his work left him with little time to spend with his two younger brothers, Il-Seong and Seok-Jin; however, he did manage to sneak in some time to draw manhwa. His parents heavily encouraged his efforts, as he strove to make a positive impact on his school. Ultimately, his hard work paid off, as the school he formerly attended continued to utilise his sophisticated anti-virus programs to combat growing threats from the Internet.

By the time he enrolled in secondary school, his twin sister, Eun-Gyeong, mysteriously vanished. She was last seen with her friends near a shopping mall. Although their relationship was complicated due to her narcissistic tendencies and disrespect towards their younger brothers, Yeong-Gi still cared deeply for her. He had often tried to help her, teaching her the value of humility and assisting her with homework she struggled to understand. He was utterly devastated when his parents announced her disappearance, and it made headlines in the news. A part of him felt lost that day, and the family's desperate search efforts ultimately proved futile. Despite their best efforts, Eun-Gyeong was never found by the authorities and remains missing to this day.

Despite the tragic disappearance of his sister, Yeong-Gi continued to excel in all his classes, but the pressure on him to become successful and be a role model intensified. As he finished grade 10 and summer break began, tragedy struck again when Il-Seong took his own life, sending Yeong-Gi spiralling into an identity crisis. He ran away from home and sought solace with Feodosiy, a Russian transfer student he had befriended in grade 9.

Feodosiy introduced him to his street gang and offered him his first dose of the opioid Krokodil, which Yeong-Gi accepted without hesitation. He became a delinquent, rebelling against his parents and their mistreatment of him and his siblings, but at the cost of becoming addicted to Krokodil. He bleached his hair an icy blonde, adopted the alias Trevor Spacey, and got a tattoo from Feodosiy's right-hand man, Haneul.

For three months, he lived with Feodosiy and his street gang, surviving by stealing essentials and inhabiting a rundown apartment. During this time, he engaged in various criminal activities, including theft, mugging, drug dealing, extortion, and arson. He honed his skills in knifemanship and taekwondo, making him a formidable opponent. However, his Krokodil addiction spiralled out of control, leading to a near-fatal overdose, which led to the subsequent amputation of his lower right leg. This traumatic experience forever deterred him from using street drugs.

After being discharged from the hospital with Feodosiy's gang members' help, he returned to a life of crime, although at a reduced level, as he adjusted to his prosthetic leg. He eventually abandoned his delinquency after accidentally killing a junkie behind a restaurant. Haunted by the incident, he remembered gazing at his reflection in a seedy restaurant's mirror, realising he had gone too far. The deep-seated fear of arrest drove him to the brink of madness, and he decided to eliminate Feodosiy, who had dragged him into crime.

After orchestrating the demise of Feodosiy and his cohorts, he scrubbed himself clean in the bathroom of the run-down apartment where Feodosiy had been staying. He then returned home, where his parents, relieved to see him, sensed the guilt and shame etched on his face for mistreating their children. Seok-Jin was also relieved to see him come home, fearing that he would never return. He confessed to them about his experiences, but kept his murders and certain crimes a secret.

He returned to high school, completing his remaining years successfully, embracing his new identity. Upon coming home from his graduation ceremony, he noticed a flyer seeking recruits for the regular army. He expressed interest to his parents, who were initially hesitant but eventually agreed with Seok-Jin's support. Leveraging his expertise in knifemanship and computer languages, he joined as a military scout in the Regular Army. After enlisting, he befriended Nadia, a scientist and soldier for the Amadeus Syndicate, and thwarted a computer virus that Marco had inadvertently released. During a mission to counter a cyber attack on European governmental forces, he earned Marco's respect due to his exceptional computer skills in hacking and security programming. As a result, he was invited to join the prestigious Peregrine Falcons Squad, where he rose to the rank of Sergeant.

The Gravestone

Trigger warnings for death, suicide, and dissociation

She never imagined she should die so young.

Beverly Whittenhouse stood before the grave that said in big letters her name—BEVERLY WHITTENHOUSE—and the date—JANUARY 17, 1992 - SEPTEMBER 5, 1953. The gravestone was small and upright, but to her, it was everything. This is where she would forever lie. She thought her funeral would be grander, but when she stood in the back pew looking at her coffin, she couldn’t help but feel nothing. She could never stand to look at her body.

It was shortly after the birth of her firstborn, Cynthia Whittenhouse, that her body relaxed and her muscles eased. Her arms felt like a million pounds, and her body felt like cement. She couldn’t tell the doctors what was wrong because she couldn’t gather the energy to speak. It was painful for the first hour or so, with a mind-crushing headache and sweat beading down her face. Sooner or later, the nurses monitoring her noticed something was wrong, but by then, it was too late. Beverly was already too far gone for treatment, so she did the next best thing. She closed her eyes. She thought, ‘Maybe if I close my eyes, I’ll wake up fine.’

Beverly did wake up. Her body lay in the hospital bed, unmoving, when she opened her eyes. Her body felt light like she could run a marathon and then some. She no longer felt sweaty and gross but instead felt rejuvenated, like she was a kid again. The lights in the delivery room no longer felt blinding, and everything was still. For a moment, Beverly felt true, genuine peace.

When she came back to her senses, Beverly saw her peers, the other nurses who served alongside her in the Second World War, crying. She didn’t understand what was wrong, so she sat up.

“What’re you cryin’ for? I’m right here.”

But they acted like they couldn’t hear her.

She went to grab onto one of the nurses but saw that her hand went through them. Her hand felt like nothing, and a simple gust of wind could blow her away. Beverly got out of bed, stood up, and looked at the nurses. Her eyes couldn’t believe the moment that had transpired, and all she could do was stare at them with a still and fearful expression. The pit in her stomach grew, and she knew one thing.

She couldn’t turn around.

Beverly knew if she turned around, it would become all too real to her. She walked around the nurses, knowing full well she could walk right through them, and walked through the door. Passing through physical objects is strange; it’s like walking through jello or something similar. It’s like something is trying to pull you back, and you feel suffocated all at once.

Each step she took felt heavier than the last. Her surroundings felt…off. She couldn’t feel or touch anything, and when she looked around, it felt as if everything had a haze to it. Her body felt out of her control, and she went on autopilot. She felt disconnected from reality, and in a sense, she really was.

It was a small hospital with a long corridor leading to different hospital rooms. She walked down the corridor, passing by the paintings on the wall she never got a good look at when she was being wheeled down. They were beautiful paintings: one of sunflowers, another of a fruit basket, and a few others of various objects. She walked slowly down the corridor until she came to the double doors that led to the entrance. She took a left because of the label ‘nursery’ on the wall.

It didn’t take long to find her husband standing there with a smile on his face. He wasn’t paying attention to Beverly; instead, he stared at one of the babies in the nursery. There were about 20 babies, but she couldn’t mistake her own. There, in the back row in the middle, was hers: Cynthia Whittenhouse. She had this feeling of elation, knowing her baby was alive and well. She felt so far from everything, but in this moment alone, she finally felt the happiness she had been waiting for 9 months.

“Mister George Whittenhouse.”

The recurring fear came back into Beverly’s body as she turned to look at her husband, who had been happy and smiling at his newborn daughter. She knew this would be the last time he would be seen happy again. She stayed, looking into the nursery with a fond expression, while he left with the doctor and went back down the corridor.

For the next week, she wasn’t allowed to leave the funeral home. She was stuck in some place that looked like a dentist’s office with a long chair in the middle. Beverly looked curiously around the room, looking at the different bottles labeled formaldehyde, methanol, glutaraldehyde, and other names of chemicals she didn’t know. She never once looked at the person in the room rushing around or who laid on the chair herself.

Beverly could never stand to look at herself in the eyes. Once, she tried to turn and look at herself, but when she caught a glimpse of her still lifeless body on the table, she couldn’t bear it. She tried; she honestly tried to come to terms with the fact she was dead, but she internally screamed at herself. She was too young to die, too young to perish! She didn’t even get to meet the baby girl she had so long to see.

So when it finally came time for her funeral, seeing the preparations and flowers, seeing all the guests that came, it all felt too surreal. Beverly waited outside the room where the funeral was being held. That’s the farthest she could get before she would blink and be back at her body. She could never travel far from it. It was like some sort of tether still tying her to her body.

“Today we mourn the loss of Beverly Whittenhouse…”

Arriving there was no problem; all she had to do was wait until her body left the funeral home. Whenever she got too far away from her body, it was always like walking through a fog. Even now, whenever she starts to walk too far, she always makes it back to her gravestone. Even in death, she couldn’t travel the world like her husband promised.

The cemetery was beautiful when she was buried there. It was still a fresh plot of grass, and the headstone was beautifully carved. She could hear sniffles from everyone in the crowd and, worst of all, her husband’s red eyes. She had assumed their baby was still in the hospital, where she would stay until enough time had passed and it was okay to send her home. Seeing her husband’s cheerful demeanor disappear after the war was the first sign of his depression, and then the second was seeing the loss of his beloved wife.

The third came way later.

Over time, she would stand beside her gravestone and wait. She would see her little girl grow up with her mother’s bright green eyes and her father’s red curly hair. She was always so happy whenever she came by. Cynthia would say hello and would sit down at the grave and talk for hours and hours about her day and home life. She was a pretty lucky kid; most dads would run, but this one didn’t.

It didn’t stop Beverly from noticing something was wrong. Every time he came by, he seemed tired and often worn out. After the war, George went back to his job as a factory worker. His sad smile turned weary, and after a while, the smile faded. It was like it took everything out of him just to get up in the morning. Soon enough, he stopped coming.

Beverly waited by the gravestone one day, waiting for Cynthia to come by. The weather wasn’t half bad—a little rain here and there, but otherwise, it was a perfectly cloudy day. She sat down on the ground, trying to pick the grass, but she couldn’t touch the ground like she could before. She didn’t hear the footsteps behind her.

“I’ve been watching.”

“Who the hell are you?” a startled Beverly yelled, getting up and backing away.

When she turned around to face whoever it was, she was pleasantly surprised. There stood a man about fifty years old with a stubbly face and dark brown eyes. He stood a little taller than Beverly, who was already 5’6 herself and looked clean. He stood there staring straight at her with a kind and soft expression.

“I am the Groundskeeper of this fine cemetery. You must be Beverly Whittenhouse.”

She looked around to see if anyone else was around and then back to the man. “How can you see me?”

“Once you spend enough time at the cemetery, you tend to see things.”

“So, you can really see me?” she asked, walking up to the man. “I wonder…” she reached out a hand to touch him.

“Still can’t touch.”

“Oh.”

She withdrew her arm and looked at him curiously. It still bothered her that his only answer was that ‘you tend to see things’ when you spend enough time at the cemetery. It wasn’t enough for her. There had to be more to the story.

“Does that mean my daughter can see me?”

“Perhaps.”

She rushed towards the man, trying to grab his shirt, but stumbled and fell to the ground. The man stepped out of the way nonchalantly, looking down at her. She grumbled at the fact that she had forgotten she couldn’t touch people and got to her feet again. She brushed off the nonexistent dirt and looked at him sternly.

“That’s not a good answer.”

Despite everything, the Groundskeeper seemed unbothered by this entire situation. “You want me to talk to her, yes?”

“I’d do anything to tell her that I loved her,” she begged the man. “Please. I just want to see my daughter once.”

“I can’t tell you if she can see you or not. I can only assume. When she comes by again, I’ll talk to her.”

If she could kiss that man’s feet, she would. She could finally meet the daughter she never got to see. It had been so long since she could hold her little girl in her arms, and now she could talk to her as a teenager. Maybe, just maybe, she could get to meet Cynthia

When the next year came, Cynthia was eighteen years old. Beverly had seen some of her relatives come by the cemetery; they were stuck to their bodies just like she was, but they moved on. Beverly got to know some of the other residents of the cemetery, like David, an elderly man waiting for his wife, or Susan, a young adult who wanted to stay just a bit longer. Beverly wasn’t alone.

It was the middle of the summer, and while everyone else was out wearing short sleeves and shirts, Beverly was still in her orange pencil skirt dress she was buried in. It was almost scandalous how much skin a woman could show nowadays, but it was trendy. Back before she died, it was scandalous for a woman to wear pants, much less mini-skirts.

Cynthia wore a similar outfit to the rest of the people. She wore a pink halter top with high-waisted bell bottoms. She wasn’t with her father that day; he stopped visiting two years ago. Beverly had hoped he was moving on and was being a father to their child, but in reality, Beverly didn’t know. All she cared about now was meeting her daughter for the first time.

Beverly waited by the gravestone for Cynthia with a smile on her face. She was nervous; she couldn’t lie, but she was so elated that she could finally tell her daughter the words “I love you” on her face. She held her hands together tightly as she waited for her daughter to get closer.

Beverly didn’t know where he came from or how, but the Groundskeeper came along. He seemed to have some supplies, and he started cleaning a gravestone. She didn’t know the supplies’ names or what exactly he was doing, but she knew he was cleaning the gravestone. This was the first she had seen him clean them.

Cynthia set down a white rose and looked over to see the Groundskeeper. “Who are you?”

He looked up from his work to face her. “I am the Groundskeeper. I watch over the cemetery.”

“Weird…” she turned back to Beverly’s gravestone. “So, what, do you watch over the graves here or something?”

“You could say that,” he says as he brushed the gravestone with some cleaning agent. “What would you say to her?”

“Who, my mom? I dunno,” she shrugged, looking at the grave. “It’s hard to miss someone you didn’t get to know. I mean, I love her, but it’s different.”

“Do you grieve for her?”

“I grieve for the mother I didn’t get to know, but do I grieve my mom?” she paused for a second to think on the question. “No. I just hope she’s at peace now.”

“Why do you keep coming then?”

“Because…she’s still my mom. I may not grieve her, but without her, I wouldn’t be here. I know she loved me; Dad tells me that every day.” she stares at the gravestone a bit longer. “Thank you for talking to me and all. Mr…?”

“Mr. Peters.”

Beverly wiped her eyes as tears ran down her face when Cynthia left the cemetery. She wasn’t wailing, but she was sobbing quietly. Did her daughter not love her enough? What did she mean by it was different? Beverly had so many unanswered questions but couldn’t ask. She wanted to run, scream, and do whatever. And so she did.

Beverly fell to her knees in some distraught agony and pounded her fists into the ground. She clenched her teeth and shut her eyes as she sobbed out. Beverly was frustrated with the feeling of not being able to do anything. She couldn’t do anything. She couldn’t speak to the people she loved; she couldn’t go and see them; she couldn’t do anything except stay here and stare at the words on the gravestone that said her name.

“Why…” Beverly sniffled. “Why can’t she see me?”

“Because she’s not grieving you,” the Groundskeeper told her. “She may have lost a mother, but she didn’t lose you.”

“If that’s supposed to make me feel better, then it’s not!” she yelled through broken sobs. “My own daughter…”

“She never said she didn’t love you. In fact, she said the opposite. She’s moved on. Maybe you should, as well.”

Beverly got up and stood over the Groundskeeper. “I should move on?! How? I can’t even tell the people that I love that I loved them! And you didn’t help me at all!”

“I showed you that she couldn’t see you.” the Groundskeeper got up from his spot and looked Beverly in the eyes. “I cannot control how your daughter grieves or does not grieve you.”

“You could have at least told her that I loved her! That I was proud of her!”

“Realistically, how would you react if I said your dead loved one told me beyond the grave that they loved you?”

“I…” Beverly was at a loss for words. On the one hand, she wanted to say she would be receptive, but on the other, she knew she would view him as crazy. “You still could have said something!”

“I am but a mere groundskeeper. I watch the grounds. I am not a messenger between the dead and the living.”

“But you can see me, and you’re not grieving!” she jabbed a finger at him, but all it did was pass through him.

Grief comes in many different forms. It’s thoughtless to assume I am not grieving.” the Groundskeeper walked through her to get to another grave to clean. “Think about this, Beverly. This is not meant to be an attack on you. This is merely a time for self-refleciton.”

“Self-reflection, my ass,” she rolled her eyes.

She did reflect on his words. There was a patch of trees beside the cemetery that she could sit under that wouldn’t bring her back to her body, so she was there for years at a time. She saw that over time, as her daughter grew older, she had this fond smile on her face. She always brought white roses, which were her favorite. Although, she never saw her husband come.

That was until one day, someone came to sit wit hher.

Today wasn’t much different than any other day. A funeral service was being held. It was rainy, and the sky was grey. It’s not a beautiful day to be holding funeral services, really. She wasn’t bothered with who was showing up because she would see them anyway. So, she sat under some trees and watched as people grieved and cried for their lost loved one.

Beverly had kept track of how old Cynthia was at that point, 50 years old. She had a child of her own, Jennifer, who then had a child of her own, Maeve. Even after so long, she still visited her mother, who had been in the ground for half a century. Beverly was curious though. Was her body decayed by then? Was she all bones now?

Those thats didn’t matter when a voice rang out to her. “You look as beautiful as the day I married you.”

She looked up and saw an elderly man standing there. He had a kind smile on his face and kind eyes. She stared confusingly at him for a moment. The last she recalled, all the elderly men in her life had passed away and moved on.

“Who are you?”

“I guess I look different than when you last saw me, Beaver.”

Her eyes widened when she heard the nickname. It had been a long time since she was called 'Beaver.' It was some stupid nickname a few friends gave her in high school because of how her name Beverly sounded similar to Beaver. She didn't understand it, but she took it with pride.

"George?"

He sat next to her with a grunt. "Yeah. It's me, hon."

She couldn't touch him because ghosts can't touch anything, so she cried into her hands. It had been so many years since she saw her husband, and now she could finally see him again.

"What happened?"

"I...couldn't bear it any longer," he said, looking down. "I hadn't been with anyone since you died, and I got diagnosed with dementia earlier last year. I couldn't bear the thought of losing my memories of you."

"Oh, George..."

"But I can finally see you again, and that's all I could ask for."

That was when she made her decision. She decided to stay. She finally understood what it meant to be dead. She wanted to see her daughter again, and the only way she could do that was to wait.

“Do you finally understand?”

She had almost forgotten where all of this began. She stood in front of her gravestone still as the grey skies passed. It was now the dawn of the 21st century, a little over 20 years since she first met the Groundskeeper. This time, he was an elderly man in his 80s with grey balding hair and a stout hunched figure. He could no longer keep up the cemetery, so moss and dirt had taken over the gravestone.

“It’s been a little bit since George left,” she noted. “He moved on much quicker than I did, but I think that’s because he had all the time in the world to spend with her.”

“Are you still angry?”

“Not anymore. I’ve come to learn to appreciate the cemetery for all it’s worth. I just hope there will be someone else to take over your job when you pass.”

He let out a hearty laugh. One that she had never seen before. He was usually stoic and aloof, but this time he looked more…friendly, more forthcoming. Maybe it had to do with age. After all, she didn’t know much about him.

“What about you?” she asked him. “What about your friends or family?”

“I’ll be fine, Beverly.” he said in his smooth, rich voice, now huskier than before. He left the cemetery with his cane in hand. “Just take care.”

She stood there waving goodbye to him as he left and he returned the wave back, before leaving. She looked down at her gravestone one last time, and saw the white roses that Jennifer had placed there.