Hi There! This Is Your Secret Santa! Do You Have Any Particular Favorite Haeadcanons For York? (or Any

Hi there! This is your secret santa! Do you have any particular favorite haeadcanons for York? (or any of the freelancers really ahaha)

Haha oh gosh that’s a really good question. I guess I should have thought about it more in the past! A lot of the things I assume about him are kind of loosely based on canon? I’ll try to give you some! Sorry for the extended rambling.Well, I don’t really have any specific headcanons for his physical appearance, given that we’re pretty much shown what he looks like out of armor in the show. I guess in general I always assume that all of the freelancers have plenty of scars, crooked fingers, healing bruises, etc. than are really shown, given their line of work.One point where I diverge a little bit is I guess a lot of people perceive York as kind of incompetent, given that most of the scenes featuring him show him failing to get through locks. Despite that, he’s still number two (then three) on the leaderboard, right under Carolina. I always kind of assumed that he was a lot better at his job than was let on. He doesn’t covet his skills or his ranking like some of the other freelancers do, so he can take a joke about his own abilities.Overall, I always imagine him being very group-oriented and extroverted. He likes to keep the mood light, doesn’t take himself too seriously. He’s pretty charismatic and can get along with almost anyone if he tries hard enough — even South and Tex. He’s also very protective of his friends and the people he cares about. I imagine he doesn’t like it when there’s a lot of group conflict. He really just wants everyone to be safe and happy. To this end he can be a bit of a joker, sometimes even taking it to the extreme and seeming a little asinine to people who are more sensitive I also envision him as a little bit impulsive when it comes to things that he wants to do — he just goes ahead and does them and sometimes doesn’t stop to think how other people may not think something is as awesome as he is.That being said, York seems like an idealist to me. He wants everything to go over smoothly, and he has ideas in his head of how things would go in a perfect world. In his mind he works with a team that’s basically a small family, they’re the good guys who go out and save the world. You can see it a little bit too in his relationship with Carolina — in his perfect world they run away together and escape the project. As with a lot of idealists, though, when real life lets him down he can get a bit melancholy. Out of Mind York is much less carefree and lackadaisy than Project Freelancer York; he’s had a huge dose of reality (losing his friends, Carolina, having to steal to survive) and he’s a bit bitter, a bit tired, a bit sad. But he still keeps his streak of optimism,  he jokes with Tex and Delta, and he tries to do what’s right.I think he and Delta probably get along better and better as time goes on. They work pretty well together in Project Freelancer, even if they do snipe at each other a little bit, but by the events of Out of Mind it seems like they’ve become very close friends (Delta’s willing to die with him). I’ve also kind of jumped on the assumption that he. North, and Wash were pretty close friends during the project. I mostly ship him with Carolina, because I think it’s really subtle and cute and I love relationships where the woman seems like the dominant partner. Also I’m not very creative with shipping so there’s that.

Some assorted headcanons: York is a caffeine addict. He drinks unhealthy amounts of coffee. Sometimes he does it because he needs to stay awake for a mission or a meeting, but sometimes he drinks coffee just because he likes it. For absolutely no reason whatsoever I also envision him as a really tactile person. He likes lots of physical affection, people playing with his hair, generally being close to other people. He doesn’t give nearly as many awkward hugs as Florida, but there are some in the heat of the moment. I imagine this drives some of the more reserved freelancers crazy, and has gotten him more than one black eye from South. I can also see York being a movie buff. He doesn’t really like the artsy, oscar-winning stuff, but he likes unabashed action movies. He likes “classics” like James Bond. He also likes Zombie movies. He also seems like the type to impose cheesy traditions or activities on the other freelancers: Christmas parties, snowball fights, the like. He likes animals, especially dogs but also cats on occasion. He gets along well with kids but should most definitely not be trusted to be the responsible adults supervisor (if York babysits someone should come along to babysit York).So, I’m sure that was far more than you ever wanted, but there it is! I won’t do any of the other freelancers in this post but if you want me to go into detail about them or if you have any other questions feel free to message me again! =3Sorry this turned into such a behemoth. 

YEEEEE! My awesome friend did a cuddle request from me of York and Carolina! My internal organs feel so fluffy and made of looooooove.

This is for my good buddy :) She got me to watch red vs blue to its current ep. Season ten guys: heavy stuff. Here is York and Carolina :”’D

Bah Humbug

as they plummeted. Their brethren already frosted the boughs of the surrounding trees and padded the hard ground. One adventurous crystal alighted squarely on Manglev’s snout and the feline had to cross his luminescent blue eyes to watch it enact its tragically short lifespan. Theological implications abound. Had he been in a philosophical mood he could have spent hours contemplating the lessons in life and passion encompassed within that single, melting snowflake. But, at present, he felt that his thoughts would only muddle the serenity of the evening. As it was, the portrait nature had painted around him was utterly pristine. The new-fallen snow was yet unmarred by the contact of sentient beasts and it seemed to cast the scene in a spectral blue light. A chilled breeze tickled his heavy winter coat, leaving him feeling clean and refreshed. There was perfection in the crispness, the solitude.

The only interruption in the quietude was the gaudy, colorful tent situated behind him. It broke the peace with its boastful existence. Over the course of the past hour the raucous festivities barely contained within had died to a muffled murmur of yuletide clichés. Inside, the Christmas celebration was continuing its decrescendo. Hyson had already passed out, inebriated, in a large bowl of punch, his limbs dangling over the edge and a dark stain slowly creeping up the seat of his flamboyant purple suit-pants. The festive medley that had previously risen from the hand-crafted mandolins and flutes of Brune and Myriot had died to a series of dulcet twangs as the duo attempted to teach Eureka how to coax out a melody. All the while the glowing young lass glanced furtively over her shoulder at the mop of pink hair that was Brynn. The youth had managed to both amuse and befuddle himself by using strings of vibrant lights to transform into a human Christmas tree. Meanwhile, Nox had reduced himself to wowing Creature and a crowd of exhausted and punch-drunk stage griffins with elementary card tricks, unaware that someone had draped an intricate array of tinsel over his curling horns. Even Besclin was in attendance. Someone had taken the time to wheel her tank into the tent and dump a bucket of green food-dye into the water so that she could join in the merriment. With the night drawing to a close, she floated under a piece of mistletoe that had been tacked to the outside of the aquarium, her sharp teeth glinting between the lips that twisted to form her devious smile.           It was only the sound of crunching footsteps, however, that broke through Manglev’s absorption and into his conscious mind. When he looked up he found that he was no longer unaccompanied. Standing beside him, hands in the pockets of a lavish red and white coat, was Marlene. She was dressed for the season with thick, fur-lined boots, slim black tights with sleigh bells sewed up the side, and a Santa Clause hat sitting atop her dark hair. Her ensemble was completed by a signature half-grin that dimpled her scarred cheek.           “What are you doing sitting out here like a furry green bump on a log?” She questioned with a raspy chuckle.           His own chest cavity rumbled with a quiet laughter. “It may look like I’m just sitting here,” He replied cheekily, “But on a cellular level I’m actually quite busy.”          Marlene fixed him with a disapproving stare for a long moment, just long enough for him to run through the sentence in his head to make sure nothing offensive had spilled past his lips, before breaking out into a smile. “Alright, I’ll give you that one.” She shrugged. “That’s not what I meant, though. Weren’t you having fun inside?”                                                                                    It was Manglev’s turn to shrug his hunched shoulders, though the awkward motion looked more like a shudder. “I was inside for a while. I just needed some air,” He defended.             Before he had finished his last syllable he felt the toe of her boot nudging his hind leg “Don’t sound so grumpy!” She instructed.                                                                                            “I’m always grumpy.             “It’s Christmas!”             “So?”             At this Marlene appeared generally concerned. Her thick lower lip protruded in a pout and she crossed both arms over her chest. Her feet spread apart slightly in a stubborn stance. “Don’t tell me you don’t like Christmas?!”             Manglev just shook his head and grunted noncommittally. Marlene continued to fix him with an intrusive stare, as if meaning to drag an answer out of him with her penetrating eyes. After several seconds he realized that he was not going to escape her line of indignant inquiry. “It’s not that I don’t like Christmas. I just don’t really see the point.”             “It’s a reason to celebrate!” Marlene suggested.             “But that’s all it is.” Manglev explained with a sigh. “I mean, doesn’t it seem a little silly? Why are we even celebrating? Because of convention? Everyone gets drunk and decorates because they’re used to it. I guess because I didn’t grow up with Christmas every year it all just kind of escapes me. I don’t really see why everyone gets so fussed about it.”             Marlene, ever obstinate, was quick with her rebuttal. “That’s not all Christmas is about.”             “Then what is it about? Religion? Jesus was probably born in the Spring, you know. The Christian church just adopted the Pagan celebration of the winter solstice to help convert new members. So, really, there’s no religious significance. Besides, there are plenty of people out there that don’t even believe in Jesus.”             Marlene just smiled amusedly and shook her head. “I don’t think you really understand what Christmas is about, Manglev,” She mused, glancing fondly down at her friend. “Christmas isn’t about the tinsel or the carols or the eggnog. Sure, that’s all part of it, but not the real meaning behind it. Hell, Christmas isn’t really even about Jesus, in my opinion. The real Christmas has to do with what all of those things stand for: love, generosity, good will. Maybe it’s not something that everybody celebrates, but those are qualities that everyone values, in their own way. Christmas is just an excuse to bring out those traits in people. It’s a chance to break away from the humdrum of everyday life to spend time with friends and family and generally be in good cheer. So cheer up, fuzz-butt!”             Manglev’s ears swiveled in her direction as he listened intently to her speech. The words themselves didn’t strike much of a chord with him, but the sheer conviction with which she spoke them was enough to melt his harried expression into a soft smile. From the whimsy in her tone to the warm embers glowing behind her eyes, her sincerity was evident. She truly believed in the inherent joy of Christmas. The characteristically wry and cynical woman had opened her heart, at least for a night, to the possibility of an innate kindness in her fellow creatures. Even if he couldn’t reconcile himself to be in complete agreement, Manglev couldn’t ruin that for her.             “All right, all right, I suppose you’re right.” He purred, craning his neck to nuzzle her hand expectantly. Marlene in response and began to scratch the skin of his scalp.”             “Good! So no more gloominess for the night!” The gaze she fixed him with was a knowing one. She was well aware that he had changed his approach for her alone, and she was willing to accept that. It would never be that simple to convince him of anything. After all, he was quite capable of being just as shrewd and stubborn as she. But an attempt at cheer from him was all that she required for the evening. Coming from him, she knew, that was a great gift.             “So....” Manglev began after a short stretch of silence, “Should we go back inside?”             Marlene gave his head an appreciative pat. “Nah, the party’s almost over, anyways. I don’t particularly want to be there when they try to fish Hyson out of the punch bowl. Let’s just go.”             The hulking green male snorted with laughter rat the mental image. “Whatever you say,” he agreed amicably. With a grunt he heaved himself to his feet. He could almost hear his bones creak as he did so and it made him feel like an un-oiled piece of machinery. While Marlene scuffed her boots against the ground, making a jingling sound as each leg moved, Manglev did his best to shake the thin dusting of snow from his thick, mossy coat. Once he was satisfied his friend replaced her slender hand atop his head and the two tromped away from the clearing, girl and beast.             As they walked, Marlene prodded at him good naturedly. “So I guess Mr. Scrooge doesn’t like Christmas presents either.” She teased.             Manglev chortled. “Why do we even give gifts on Christmas? Do we really need to buy each other’s affection?” He questioned, more for sport than any real inclination against the tradition of gift-giving.             “Fine! I won’t give you yours!”             “I didn’t say I didn’t want it!” Manglev protested, looking upwards at her with sudden disheartenment.             “I don’t know,” Marlene pondered with hyperbolized hesitation. “Have you been good? Only good girls, boys, and kitties get gifts.”             He screwed up his face into a wrinkled expression of distaste. “Define ‘good’.”             Marlene scrutinized him for a second as if taking an inventory of his past deeds. As quickly as the expression had appeared, however, it was replaced by an impish grin. A soft accented hiss reverberated between the back of her palate and her tongue. “You’re lucky I’ve got a soft spot for you.” She said, tilting her head affectionately towards him.            For once in his life, Manglev did feel very lucky.

           They spent the rest of the walk in silence, the only sound the crunching of their feet as they marched in harmonious time with one another. It was not long before they drew upon another tent, this one minimalistic compared to the vibrantly tacky enclosure they had just abandoned. It had thick burlap flaps protecting its innards from the winter chill, and smoke was billowing out a hole that had been cut into the roof. The makeshift shelter glowed and pulsed from within, lending it almost the appearance of a living being. The nearer they drew the more inviting the simple tent became to Manglev. By the time Marlene lifted one of the heavy flaps back for him he was craving the warmth and comfort of the indoors. Instantly he was bathed in the heat from the fire they had left crackling upon their departure. Extending his paws he stretched himself out in the typical feline manner, his abdomen extending like a spring uncoiling. A yawn rippled across his face and he opened his maw wide, exposing his yellowed teeth and insect-like mandibles. Marlene chuckled as she watched him, moving to stoke the fire with an iron rod.             When he had settled himself into a comfortable sitting position he cleared his throat. “So, what’s this about a present I was hearing?” He poked curiously.             “That’s what you’re after now, is it? Alright, close your eyes!” Manglev did as he was told, squeezing his eyelids tightly together. Of course, the sense of sight was no great loss for one as acutely gifted as he. He could hear her rummaging through some of her old satchels, which had been tossed casually in the corner. Her footsteps approached him once more and one of her knees touched the ground. He was a bit surprised to feel her hands around his thick neck, but he didn’t allow himself to sneak a glance until he heard, “Alright, go ahead!”             His immediate instinct was to peer down at where her delicate hands had been fidgeting. There he noticed a simple black leather band fastened, with only a decorative bronze ring for ornamentation. “A... collar?” He asked curiously.             “Don’t think of it as a collar!” Marlene proclaimed enthusiastically. “Think of it as a fashion statement!” Evidently she caught the skepticism that fluttered through his eyes, for she was quick to add, “And don’t think that I got it because I just think of you as some sort of pet or anything like that. That’s not what I meant by it. Well, I did think it would be cute, but that’s beside the point. I mean, people usually don’t put collars on animals to claim ownership or anything. They do it so that if the animal gets lost people know that that animal belongs somewhere, that it has a home, and so that people can find a way to take it back to its home. People like you and me... well, we have a hard time finding places we belong. So I just thought... you know... it would be nice to let you know that I think you belong somewhere. Right here, with me. We’re friends, even family. So, I thought that it was something that, if you ever felt lost or alone, you could look at to remember that you’ve got a home.”             Though the words came in a flurry, Manglev smiled in understanding. He gave her a light, tender head-butt as means of informing her that she didn’t need to defend her decision to him. “Thank you, Marlene. I really do appreciate the sentiment. And, for the record, I think this is where you belong too.”             There was relief in Marlene’s laughter as she drew to her feet, dusting herself off. “I’m glad. Will you at least wear it once in a while?”             “Of course,” Manglev rumbled. As he spoke he rose as well, dragging himself in front of the fire and flopping on his side there. “Though, now I feel guilty that I didn’t bring you anything.”             “That’s odd,” His companion muttered thoughtfully. “I could have sworn you got me a big, fluffy, feline pillow!”             “A wha-?! Oomph!” He was interrupted mid-syllable as Marlene dropped herself nearly on top of him, causing him to emit a sound like a deflating hot-air balloon. Before he could protest she had cuddled next to him, her figure lying along his, head resting on one of his shoulders. He chuckled in resignation and situated himself to be more accommodating. Once again, the pair was blanketed in silence. The silence that passed between Marlene and Manglev, however, was never an awkward one. There was no grappling for some new topic, no striving to fill the void. Rather, their silence was one that suggested nothing needed be said between them. They were in complete harmony, at peace with one another. The soothing silence that passed between them was one that said more than petty chatter ever could. There was something to be said for the bond of those that could be comfortable together when the novelty of speech was stripped away. For a long while they simply watched the flames from their fire curl about the air in a frantic dance. Their attentiveness was such that one might have imagined they could see whole other worlds painted by the small blaze. Every so often one of them would shift to enhance their comfort, but otherwise all was still. As was wont to happen, soon sleepiness enveloped the two. Manglev felt his eyelids grow heavy and his muscles uncoil. Soon dreams would hold him as their captive.              “Hey Marlene?” He muttered through the haze of his own exhaustion.             “Yes Manglev?” She answered with equal fatigue in her raspy voice.             “Merry Christmas.”             Her lips curled upwards and he felt her nuzzle deeper into his pelt. “Oh, Bah Humbug.”

Red vs Blue Secret Santa: South's Christmas Escapade

My RvB Secret Santa gift for mspyro! One of the things on her list was a fic showing South in a more positive light! I really like seeing a more three-dimensional approach to her character too! A fair waringing, this is pretty self-indulgent and cheesy. I'm sorry if it's not the best thing I've ever written! If you want something better I'd be happy to tackle another one of your prompts! I hope you had a Merry Christmas/Happy Holiday/fun regular day!

A common misconception aboard the Mother of Invention was that Agent South Dakota was completely heedless.

The assumption was born naturally enough – after all, South Dakota had not historically been delicate with the feelings of others. She couldn’t be counted upon to alter her demeanor to suit the needs of others, even in the direst of situation. No matter how the dynamics around her shifted, she was still South: stubborn, abrasive, and driven .

Most people assumed that she was oblivious to social nuance, that she was too self-absorbed to pay attention to her surroundings. Either she was too dense to care what was going on with the rest of her comrades, or she just didn’t care. South was happy to let them think that. It was easier for everyone. The others didn’t need to know that when she was sitting alone in the mess hall, seemingly brooding, she was really tuning in to her own version of Freelancer Radio.

It was during one of these silent surveillance sessions that she first heard North mention Christmas.

Holidays as the twins were growing up had always morphed into huge affairs, with decorations and seasonal foods, even gifts. Birthdays, Halloween, Easter, they were escapes, excuses to celebrate, ways to make up for the family dysfunction that dominated the rest of the year. Come winter their parents practically vomited Christmas cheer over the house. There were stockings and holly and Christmas cookies; relatives swarmed like flies around a dead animal. After a certain age South had become disillusioned with the festivities, seeing them more as interruptions of her daily life than manifestations of joy.

North, however, had thrived on these occasions. He was always the one humming Christmas carols before November was out the door, the one insisting on putting the star at the top of the tree. He even liked being surrounded by extended family, even though they weren’t far from being complete strangers. South sometimes wondered if he had missed things like holidays since they had joined up. She never asked him, and he never said anything about it.

That day in the mess hall, though, she heard him, his voice warm with fondness, describing in great detail all of his fondest memories of Christmas to his excitable AI, Theta. She could hear the child-like computer program chattering excitedly, occasionally pausing to ooh and ah at one of North’s stories. South tch’d, trying hard not to be amused. She was supposed to be the sour one, after all.

“Do we have Christmas here, North?” She heard Theta asked tentatively, sounding downright hopeful for being essentially an advanced toaster.

North’s chuckle was low and comforting. “I don’t think so buddy,” he said, cheery front faltering ever so slightly. Anyone who didn’t know him as well as South did would have missed it. “It would be nice though, wouldn’t it? You know when we were little South and I were little-”

There was something about the wistfulness in North’s voice that made it claw straight into South’s ears, burrowing into her brain and ruminating there until she knew something had to be done, if only for her own conscience’s sake. People could say anything they wanted about South, but they could never say that she didn’t love her brother.

This was not going to be good for her reputation.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

The whole exploit had proven a bit more difficult than she had originally intended. She had initially hoped that no one else would have to know about her little project, but some of the tasks she had undertaken proved beyond her area of expertise.

In the end, she had to let Connie in on her secret. That was fine, she supposed. If anyone had to see her soft underbelly she was glad it was Connie. She had recruited her friend after a thoroughly exasperating encounter with FILSS. Dealing with supercomputers had never been her strong suit. Connie, on the other hand, knew how to sweet-talk the ship’s AI. CT seemed to know all of the ins and outs of the computer’s programs, and proved much more successful than South at mocking up a simulation. South might have been swayed to show her gratitude had the smaller agent not giggled when she told her what she wanted made.

“Shut up!” South snapped.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! It’s just… so not like you!”

 “I said shut up!” She fixed Connie with her most menacing glare. “I swear to god, if you tell anyone about this I will through you straight out the airlock!”

Under that threat, Connie had been able to summon up a modicum of professionalism.

Worse than Connie, she had had to beg a favor from Wyoming. He was on the squad with the next shore leave, and she needed something from on-planet. She \ tried to convince him to switch her leave dates, but in the end the best she could manage was for him to pick up a package from her. Owing Wyoming a favor made her feel dirty enough, but the way he looked at her when he handed over the package told her he had looked inside. She hoped he could tell from her stare just where his entrails would end up if he dared bring the matter up.

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In the end, the worst part about the whole endeavor was the nerves. She stood in the training room chewing the inside of her cheek as she waited for her brother. He hoped she had gotten the note she had slipped under his door, that York hadn’t picked up it first and hid it from him like the jackass he was. She also hoped that word of her peculiar behavior wasn't spreading around the ship. A great deal of time and effort had gone into building up the persona of the tough, no-nonsense bitch, and she didn’t want the entire thing to crumble because she was caught, heaven forbid, caring about someone. And what if North thought the whole thing was stupid? That they were too old for this kind of thing? What if he laughed and shook his head and gave her that damn look like he was talking to a fucking teenager and not his grown-ass twin sister.

Hell, she was about to cut her losses and run when she heard the clomping of combat boots on the hard metal floor. No turning back now.

“South?” North called out before daring to enter. He sensed something was amiss. “Are you okay? It’s a little late for a sparring session, can it wait until –“

With his first step onto the training floor he almost choked on his words. His widened and he opened his mouth to speak, but Theta’s voice replaced his own.

“Wooow!”

There, standing in the middle of the training room floor was South. Standing behind her was a large, holographic Christmas tree, peppered with glittering colored lights. Her expression lingered somewhere between expectation and nausea.

“Merry Christmas bro.” She said in a small, sheepish voice.

“South…” For a moment she was afraid she was going to get some condescending speech. Luckily, North continued before she had a chance to aim a right hook at his face. “You did all this? For me?”

South shrugged, scuffing her boot against the floor. “Well, you and Theta. I mean, the kid had never seen Christmas, right? It’s not that big of a deal…”  

North’s grin was so radiant South worried he might pull a muscle. Before she had time to wriggle away he had his arms around her in a crushing hug. “It’s a huge deal, South.” He insisted.

“It’s amazing!” Theta chimed in, drifting over to the tree to inspect it. "So pretty!"

South clawed at her brother’s shoulder. “Get off me you big dope! Let go!” North laughed heartily at her squirming but conceded, backing away to give his sister room to breathe.

She tried her hardest to scowl at him, but she doubted very much that North believed her anger. “Alright, whatever. I guess you should open your gift now or something.”

“South…” North began again, but as soon as the box was brandished in his face he amended whatever he had been about to say to, “Is this wrapped in pages of our field manual?”

“Shut up and open it!” South snapped, and North was kind enough not to antagonize him. With Theta watching in what she hoped was computerized glee, North tore the ruined instructions on bomb disposal and rifle maintenance off of the box and popped it opened to reveal a mug emblazoned with the words “World’s Okayest Brother”.

South was once again amazed that he didn’t manage to rupture something with his grin.

“This is great, South. Really, it is. I just….”

“…. Feel bad because you didn’t get me anything. Yeah, I figured you would. I’ve got it covered.” From behind the trunk of the holographic tree she produced a second mug, this one bearing the words “World’s Okayest Sister”.            

“See? It’s like, matching or whatever. I know you like that kind of shit-“

Once again North was hugging her, mug still in hand. South started swatting at him again, but when he tightened his grip she relented and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. “Alright fine. But you can’t tell anyone about this, got it? Not a single person. Not York. Not Wash. No one.” North inhaled in a way she knew meant he was about to ask a question, so she explained before he could bother. “Can’t have people start thinking I’m soft or anything. They’d walk all over me.”

Her brother was smiling again. She wasn't sure how she knew, given that his chin was on her shoulder. She could just tell.

“Our secret.” He promised.

She let him hang on to her for a few moments longer before she started feeling antsy. She was getting ready to worm out of his grip with North spoke again.

“South?”

“Yeah North?”

North hesitated a minute. “You do know it’s December 9th, right?”

South scowled and socked him in the gut. Lightly. It was Christmas after all.

Toppling Towers! Now with 100%  more gif! Seriously though. This is beautiful and soooo detailed! <333 kozzdraw is an angel from above.

How dare Roxie bail on her like that? They were supposed to be friends, weren’t they? Sure, they had never met before, but that shouldn’t matter!

Corruption: Eureka's Nightmare

               It all began with the stillness. It was unnerving, unnatural.  No wind moved through the palms and the ocean lay stagnant. The bloated orange sun hung low in the sky, admiring its reflection in the water’s glassy surface. With no breeze to stir it, the day’s heat was heavy an oppressive. It made everything feel uncomfortably damp and sticky. The only sound to be heard was the lazy sawing of the cicadas in the distance.                 At the water’s edge a girl squatted, toes just dipping into the cool water. In her hand she held a long and slender twig, which created serene ripples as she dunked it into the sea.                 “What’s wrong, little fishy?” Eureka cooed, using the rod to gently nudge a portly silver fish hovering just beneath the brine. It looked sickly to her: there were white blotches beginning to form on its sleek scales, and its eyes were rheumy and unfocused. There was something wrong with the island; she could feel it. Fish this large had never ventured into such shallow waters before. The dorsal fin of her specimen was almost protruding from the water. To her it seemed as if the fish had come to shore to die, to make its final journey to the surface less tiresome. It was not alone in its plight. Recently an unusually high number of fish carcasses had been appearing. The entire ecosystem was feeling under the weather. Suspicious gray fungus was creeping up the roots of the trees and just yesterday she had seen a flock of birds drop out the sky for no apparent reason.                 Eureka had always been uniquely attuned to the moods of her island. She had been born from the sea and tossed ashore by its loving waves. She was the isle’s sole human inhabitant. If, in fact, she was human. Eureka had never seen another being quite like herself. She had seen others who walked on two legs as she did, drifting by on their lofty boats, but they were not like her. They did not have two long, cephalopodan tentacles sprouting from the back of their necks. There were no dotted lines of bioluminescent color running over their skin like veins. She had only encountered one that shared her snowy white hair, but he had looked shriveled, like a dad fern. Her pale, reflective eyes were hers alone.                 Eureka had watched these people from afar, but hid whenever their boats coasted too close. She would submerge herself in water, breathing through the gills under her arms, or crouch behind rocks or foliage. She was not really frightened of them – she was more curious than anything – but her bashfulness constantly won out.                 Even a castaway from one of these crafts could have seen that something was amiss. If one had eyes and cared to look they could see the signs. From this troubling observation stemmed a concerning question with a much more elusive answer: Why? Eureka had scoured the island, searched and hunted and dove, but all in vain. There was no tainted spring or beetle infestation, to foreign plant or overbearing volcanic ash. If there was a centralized cause to this blight, she could not find it. All was as it should be.                 And yet, it was not.                 Eureka was left consumed by a poignant feeling of helplessness. Whatever was happening was beyond her control. She was small, oh-so-small, and insignificant in the grand scheme of the universe. If it wanted to kill her island, it would. Little people like her could not fix big problems. How could she fix what didn’t appear to be broken? By the time the gradual changes compiled into a sudden cataclysm it would be too late. All she could do was try to treat the symptoms; patch holes in the dam while the tidal wave loomed overhead.                 “Go on, fishy. There’s nothing for you here. Go home to your friends.” She coaxed.                 The fish refused to budge. It stared p at her through its deadened eyes with something between indifference and contempt. She met its gaze stubbornly, pursing her lips.                 When even a stern tap with her stick would not persuade the finned martyr she eased back on her heels and allowed herself to fall back into a sitting position in the sand. She watched her fish grudgingly, silently feuding with it. It remained unaffected. It occurred to her that the only way to deliver this obstinate beast its rightful abode was through force. Given the creature’s willingness to do more than blink placidly, she discerned that that would not be difficult.                 “This is for your own good, fish.” She warned, jabbing an accusing finger in its direction. She had tried to talk reason it. Eyebrows furrowed in concentration, she bade the fish stay still while she rocked onto her knees and reached forward for it.                 The fish hissed at her. It hissed at her. It pulled back what constituted its lips, pried its jaw open and let out an unearthly, ungodly shriek that could be heard even above the surface. And its mouth… its mouth was filled of twisted, needle like teeth. Eureka stumbled backwards in shock and horror, unable to do anything but watch as the fish began convulsing, flailing and splashing in place. All the while its tortured, now-reddened eyes remained affixed on her.                 She was so transfixed by the fish’s epileptic dance that she almost failed to notice the rusty brown goo that was leaking out of it. It was only when the creature finally laid still, body bobbing upwards, that she was finally able to rip her eyes away. All only to be transported to a fresh hell.                 Oily brown fingers were spreading out across the ocean, gripping it tightly and choking the life out of it. Whole schools of limp fish were being dragged to the surface and entrenched in the ooze. Floating gulls squawked and struggled as the muddy water snatched them and yanked them under. A gasp left Eureka’s lungs as she saw a tendril of horridly polluted water snatched a low flying bird right out of the sky.                 And then there was the smell: the horrible odors of death and rot wafted towards her. She gagged on the putrid scent. She was suffocating. Had it always been this hot? The air was smoldering all around her. It was so hot it was boiling the sea. Bubbles were forming out in the deep: huge, deformed swells of brown and black. As they swept outwards a cacophonous bellow erupted, so loud that Eureka could feel the vibrations in her bones. She screamed at the pain in her ears, but it could not be heard over the howls of the ocean. The leviathans of the deep were dying.                 Oh gods, she thought, Oh gods. But her gods were dead now. And in their place, from the foaming sea, rose a new deity. It had a human shape but it was not human. It appeared to be made of the same black smog and muck that it heralded its arrival. It was slender, fluid, and constantly changing, twisting, dripping. It turned at her and smiled a ravenous, empty smile.                 The way it moved made it seem to melt towards her, and at a surprising speed. It had a sickening grace to it. It made landfall before Eureka had even forced herself upright. In its wake it left a trail of death. The sand coiled and charred beneath its feet and from its footprints sprang networks of life-sucking capillaries. The plants they touched withered and died, any crustaceans unlucky enough to be caught in their path were reduced to nothing but flaking exoskeletons. Screams went up from the jungle. When Eureka looked into the hollow eyes of this monstrosity she knew that she would not live to see the stars that night.                 Still, some natural instinct in her body compelled her to run. It wanted her to fight for her life tooth and claw. Even as her feet carried her forward, she knew the effort would be fruitless. But her mind tantalized her with the image of safety. She could see, just behind the curtain of reality, the tranquil spring that bubbled quietly in the center of the forest. Its cool, inviting waters beckoned her, offered her refuge. If she could just make it there she would be alright. And so she darted madly through the foliage, ignoring the shooting pain of sticks that puncturing her bare feet, the sting of branches whipping in her face. She moved nimbly, but had no time to consider her route. She could feel the corruption nipping at her heels. She didn’t need to turn to know that the New God was giving a sporting chase. She could hear the moaning and crying, smell the putrefaction. She didn’t want to look, but she did, and saw nothing less than she had expected. The forest behind her was desiccated and the New God was strolling behind her at a leisurely pace.                 Run faster! Her primal self urged her. Already Eureka’s muscles were beginning to tire. Her throat burned and her diaphragm ached.                 Just a little further.                 The bottom of her feet were raw and bleeding, her body was bruised and scratched from the groping branches of the now claw-like trees.                 Almost there.                 She didn’t know how much longer she could run. She wanted to stop but her body wouldn’t let her. She wanted to die. She wanted to live.                 And finally, just when she thought that her body would give out under her, a speck of glistening blue water appeared through the trees. It gave her the energy to push just a little bit further, just a little bit harder. The tiny waterfall over the pond gurgled invitingly. The grass fed by it was still green and flowers blossomed along the ridge. So close. With a burst of will she thought she had exhausted, she leapt.                 And was grabbed by the ankle. “NO!!!” She cried, tears prickling around her eyes. She had been so close. So close! It wasn’t fair! She thrashed and kicked and dug into the ground with her hands, trying to drag herself those last few inches. The rot was climbing up her leg, draining all of the color from her radiant streaks. She kept writhing as if it would make a difference, but already the oily sludge had wrapped around her waist. It climbed and climbed, stripping away flesh as it went. It was crawling up her back, caressing her shoulder, tugging at her hair. The New God was standing over her now, watching with his cavernous smile. It looked like he was laughing at her. She opened her mouth to scream but was stifled by the mire as it rushed down her throat. . . .

Eureka’s eyes flew open as she awoke with a start. She jolted into a sitting position, drawing the modest white sheets up to her chest. Her whole body was damp with sweat and her legs were tight and sore. She gazed around her spartan room, blinking the last of the dream from her eyes. She sat in bed staring vacantly outwards until her heartbeat slowed and her chest stopped heaving.                 That dream again. Always that dream. It lurked behind her eyes and came to life whenever she closed them. It always left her feeling so dirty, so violated. As she had many times before, Eureka slid out of bed, feet falling silently to the cold white tile. In the dark, in nothing but her white patient gown, she made her way to the bathroom. The yellow, florescent lights in the lavatory had become comforting to her, and she basked in their glow as she started the sink. She laved her hands with soap as the water warmed and then began scrubbing. Her hands were already red and cracked from the many times she had performed this nightly ritual. Still the suds and hot water brought her a comfort that she could never find on her own.                 One of the night nurses heard the running water from down the hall and heaved a heavy sigh. Another midnight cleansing. She meandered quietly towards the bathroom and hovered in the doorway. She watched the young woman mutely as she rubbed her hands raw at the sink, humming to herself and shaking ever so slightly. This was not a new occurrence, and these days the aging nurse barely had the heart to scold her and send her back to bed. This was the only time that the sad girl with the lank brown hair and strange red lines on her skin seemed at peace. [Author's Note: Wow! I can't believe I finally finished this! This is (another) nightmare sequence for my dear friend Kozz and her role play buddy Laura! It's for their site, Institution, (http://bloodywrittenthing.wordpress.com/) which is really an awesome place. It has a tantalizing story with beautiful artwork, and if you're tired of my drivel just head on over there. You're in for a real treat. A while back Kozz posted a challenge for writers to write their own nightmare sequence to compliment the story line. I already did one, which I have yet to post on tumblr because I want to edit some of my errors, but I wasn't really happy with it. It was long and drawn out and ended up more like an acid-trip than a real nightmare. I tried to be a little loose with it, make it not as rigidly plotted as the last one. It still ended up a little more stiff than I would have liked, but overall I like it better than the last one. It hangs together more nicely. I wanted to work on a few things with this story: mainly pacing and lack of dialogue. I don't think I did very well with pacing. It started out slow then all tumbled out at the end. But my writing is a work in progress. Because I have a hard time reading body language in real life, dialogue tends to prop up most of my stories (-cough- Living High, And the Earth Shook, etc. -cough-), so I wanted to do a story with barely any talking to see if I could accurately portray emotion without the main characters blabbing all the time. I think I did better on this front than I did the other. In any case, I hope you like the story Kozz and Laura! You don't have to put it up if you don't want, but I had a lot of fun with it! As always, comments, criticisms, and critiques are always welcome!