Delphox Story: PTSD and Chill
Ugh. Why does my head hurt?
No, I know why it hurts.
I had a fifth upon the fourth and now I shan't be coming fourth upon the fifth.
Heh.. That'd be funny if I didn't feel like my head was being beaten upon by a sledgehammer.
Right. Get up. Water would be nice. Throat feels like I gave the Sandman a blowjob and tried swallowing.
Opening my eyes was probably the worst decision of the day. I immediately slam them shut as my mind goes blank from pain and I feel like I just looked into the sun.
My groan of pain sounded weird. Even to me.
Blindly sitting up in bed I manage to crack my eyes open in a slight squint and move a hand up to rub my muzzle.
My Muzzle?
My Muzzle!?
WHY DO I HAVE A MUZZLE!?
Looking across the room at the mirror propped up against the wall, next to the boxes I hadn't yet unpacked from moving in gives me my answer and I just stare at the reflection.
I turn my head left.
It turns its left.
I turn my head right.
it turns its head right.
Looking at my four fingered hand and wiggling them doesn't help any.
Matter of fact, I even recognize what I am. But My brain refuses to cooperate as the hammers continue ringing in my ears.
And of course, right on que, because my headache wasn't bad enough, and my day not quite screwed hard enough... Music makes an abortive start, and then my head explodes, my ears flatten, despite the hairtufts poking from them and I shove my head under the pillows with a pathetic whimper.
Where in the absolute fuck did that damned mariachi band come from!?
Kids laughing answers my question, my bedroom is overlooking a courtyard in the apartment complex.
Playground, Ramada and...I'm betting one of the kids is having their birthday today. I risk a look at the alarm clock...
11:00A blinks back at me, like an ominous inevitability that makes me groan.
And then my cellphone phone rings.
My heads a mess. It hurts, My throat is still sore. and there's a mariachi band playing under my window.
Also my phone.
I check the screen, Thankfully I still have a thumb. I can work with three fingers and a thumb.
I press the phone to my ear and then groan in annoyance.
"We're trying to reach you about your car- " Thud Hang up, phone dropped to the bedside table and I'm stumbling across the room like a newborn child.
I don't even bother with the cup beside the sink, I just shove my hands under the faucet and drink.
Don't judge me, We've all done it.
I wash away the sandmans load finally and bring back the blessed rains to the sahara that is the back of my throat.
And then, and only then do I really look up into the mirror.
At least my clothes stayed intact. And it's only now that I realize they itch over my fur.
Off comes the hellokitty pajamas, shut up they were a gift ok? My grandma still thinks I'm thirteen and they're actually comfortable.
My fur instantly fluffs up and, alright yeah. Delphox. I would have preferred Braixen but I can make this work. I'll take bring five foot over three feet tall any day of the week.
Not like it's much of a loss. five foot and a quarter is still borderline anyways. that Quarter was doing heavy lifting anyways. Giving it a break like it finally deserves.
I step down from the small step stool and look around, hitting the lights makes it suddenly all the more real.
Picrel for exactly how I feel looking down at myself. I really should stop mentally talking to myself. They'll send me back to therapy with all the other PTSD riddled veterans...
Wait. For once the buzzing in my ears is gone, is that what the world really sounds like without that constant tinnitus ring?
My back doesn't hurt, and I'm not limping with the aid of my cane either.
What a deliciously new fresh hell I've now discovered.
And what a gloriously delicious fresh hell it turned out to be!
Stumbling into my kitchen, itself still only half unpacked, opened up the fridge and recoiled as the scents within promptly assaulted my nose and proceeded to beat my sinuses into submission.
I grabbed the orange juice instead of the beer I had planned on. Fished a cup from a box, rinsed, poured and replaced the juice in the fridge.
The couch in the living room was somehow more comfortable than I expected. Probably the extra fur covering my ass. The tail wasn't too hard to move out of the way. It just... moved when I settled down. Like a phantom limb.
The juice actually tasted alright. There was a slight...something in there. Like something on the tip of the tongue, probably because it was processed despite the 'organic' title. Damn liars.
TV was still on, news as about the goings on, just enough people turning to cause chaos, not enough people for them to have a solid idea what the hell to do.
My eyes narrowed slightly, the headache didn't help, but I recognized the unit of the military getting deployed as I pointed my left arm at the screen, "HAH! Sucks to be you dirtbags, betchya'll wished I was still running supply, huh!?" I was tempted to shout vindication! as I saw the mismatched gear of soldiers stumbling over one another.
Of course, this also made me pause and look at my arm, that was not my thumb sticking out by my wrist. >It was a reflex, I swear. Nothing prepares you for suddenly holding a flaming stick.
I actually found myself staring at the damned flame for longer than I should, it was almost hypnotic. A quick flick of my wrist and the flame went out as I put said stick back into my 'sleeve' and sipped my juice.
"Well. That's a thing."
"And in other new-Zzrt!"
Right, That's enough of the news for today. TV goes off.
I also didn't even touch the remote to turn it off.
Currently I'm staring at the TV remote as it wobbles through the air.
Ngl, this is frankly awesome.
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My phone rings and the remote drops to the table with a clatter, right. Gonna have to learn to control that.
A quick glance at the phone and I groan again, the headache is gone, but the name on the phone?
"Phox Family therapy services, headshrinking on demand, Ask about our over thirty midlife crisis discount. How may I assist you?"
Shiteating grin engaged as I pull the phone away from my ear as my sister screams at me about not being a real therapist and to stop using that stupid joke, it's offensive.
"Then... uh... mebbe you oughta actually go to therapy instead of calling me all the time to whine?"
Click!Dialtone
I'm going to hear about that later, whatever. More important things to do.
Such as choking down a pair of Tylenol that my body rather wouldn't.
I don't know if they'll help, but screw it, we ball.
Outside, onto the balcony, I got the corner apartment, and no neighbors can see me.
I once again reproduce my magic trick of pulling a stick from my sleeve and staring at the flame.
Ok, that is hypnotic as hell, and I have the strange urge to speak mandarin and quote River Tam.
Forcing my eyes off the fire I point it towards my charcoal grill and exhale, focus, Become on with the force... wait, wrong franchise, I feel the fire and then extend it.
Picrel.
No seriously, that bitch is toasty now.
Thankfully the grill tanked it like a champ.
"cái bù shì[No way]"
I look to the stick, I look to the grill,
"Guess I'm having burgers for lunch."
Also, this has been the best day ever.
The Burgers were great, btdubs.
The Soda I tried to drink with them? Not so much.
Down the drain the can went.
Goddamned fresh hell, I thought I was free of thee!
Dr. Pepper shouldn't be wasted going down the drain.
If you like Coke or Pepsi? Allow me to elucidate upon thee why I prefer the Doctors Pepper.
We literally use that stuff to scrub and degrease engines when we run outta milspec degreaser overseas.
It also has flavor. Unlike the other two.
That's why I am lamenting the massive Cube'o'Soda(It's only missing one can too) as I glare balefully at it while I drink another cup of orange juice.
On one side of me levitates the TV remote.
The other is a compacted sphere of fire.
Thankfully it's not producing smoke or the fire alarms would be going off.
I move my right hand, the TV remote does a barrel roll.
Left hand causes the orb to begin slowly changing colors as I heat it through the visible spectrum...
ZZZRT! ZZZRT!
Remote clatters to the table and the ball explodes in my face, blowing back my fur and I swear the tip of my nose is now singed.
My headache... lessens slightly.
Then the Mariachi band begins playing again.
I left the balcony door open. Idiot.
I pickup the phone, eyeball it and exhale.
"Phox's Billiards and Balls, You rack them, I'll Crack 'em, Phox speakin'."
I pull the phone away slightly as my mother groans in disgust.
Gaze Upon My Works Ye Mighty, and Despair.
Apparently her internets sketchy again.
Turn it off, then on again.
Did that already? Bullshit and Lies, progenitor.
I hear the sound of cords being unplugged, thirty awkward seconds of silence, "Oh, it works now. Nevermind." Click
This woman is going to college for Forensic Computer analysis, ladies and gents.
I rebuilt my schools entire IT dept from scratch, and built the libraries database system at 16 over a summer.
POP!POP!RATTA-TAT-AT!!!BINGBONG[FuckMYLIFE!]BANG!!
I scramble over the back of the couch and cower.
Fireworks?
Fireworks.
Fireworks.
But that's not what I'm hearing.
A year ago I was the gunner on a convoy and my truck hit an IED.
UnexpectedRocketMan.Gif
I did not stick the landing.
In fact, Landed like a wet sack of used ass.
I did however wake up long enough to remember the sound of bullets zipping into the ground around me.
Ear flatten, tail curls between my legs and at some point I managed to shut the balcony door with my mind.
low crawling back to my room and shutting the door nets me peace and quiet as the fireworks start.
I need a shower.
And a Beer.
A Case, preferably.
Thankfully I don't have any. I'm trying to turn a new leaf.
Instead I go to the mirror and breath.
Deep Breath In.
Hold it, focus on my own face.
Slowly let it out.
You're not desperately trying to stand up and not understanding why your vision's blurry.
In.
You're home. Not being tackled by some guy through a doorway.
Out.
The ringing has stopped, the headache is going away as well. It's silent.
And then Gods reminder that if you had an attention span, you'd be unstoppable.
I hold up a red glowing, rotating ring of fire.
Suddenly the laughter isn't just outside and from the kids. It's me.
I'm laughing.
I'm a five foot tall magical telepathic firefox.
I walk back out onto the balcony, use the embers of the fire to light a cigarillo and lean back in the hammock.
Face your fear, it's just fireworks and kids.
Not the human wreckage they pulled out of the rubble of a near collapsed building.
I blow a smoke ring and catch it with my mind before slowly twisting it, trying for something complex.
what I actually get is a floating dick.
And the neighbor across the way pointing at me and shouting.
I send the floating smoke dick chasing after her with a grin, Lobo would be proud.
This cigarillo is almost better than sex.
Just one problem.
New lungs, Who Dis?
I'll get used to the coughing eventually. Hell, not like that's the worst shit I've inhaled.
Ever seen a burnpit overseas? Yeah, those things smell like they look.
The hammock sways in the breeze and the air feels great.
Even half closed I feel the presence that is me drift through the house, settling on the Tv remote.
I love smart Tv's, especially when you rip out the trash installed and get a custom OS on there with jailbroken apps.
Music, free of ads, drifts through the apartment as my headache recedes. It's getting easier to deal with an fainter the more I exercise that 'muscle'.
I stub out the cigarillo and just vibe while half watching clouds go by, the occasional firework makes me flinch but that's small beans now.
I'm almost back to sleep when I hear, over the music, the pounding on my door.
Apparently my rendition of Green Lanterns dick, delivered Lobo style, was a bit much.
I pop the door, "Guten Tag, Officers."
They both recoil slightly while I produce another cigarillo and light it off the tip of my finger, and then hit them with the 'problem?' look.
"We... have reports of you causing a disturbance?" Comes the almost brain-off-just-answer. Reply.
I... sigh and rub the bridge of my muzzle between my eyes.
"I apologize." Mentally hitting the remote I drop the volume of the Tv a few levels, "Here, by the way." I hand over my ID, My Veterans ID and shrug, "Woke up like this."
They both take a few minutes to regroup, take the ID's and step away. The Fact I'm cooperating has them on the backfoot. One turns back to me, "So you're -"
"A Delphox. Fire and Psychic, No, I would like to not go with you. Ya'll've got more issues than a pair of cats fuckin' in a sock, if the news's to be believed. I just want to smoke a cigar, drink a beer and lounge on my hammock in the back."
The hand does come off the taser, thats progress. but of course, it's now resting on the gun.
My eye's drop to half lidded and for a moment, time slows down.
Apparently I come with my own bullet time.
Good for me, Not for them. By a longshot.
The old adage, 'have a plan to kill everyone, and two escape routes at all times' flashes through my mind.
And then the hand comes off the gun and time resumes as normal. My heartbeat however, does not. Just... breathe, normally. Fucks sake.
"In the future, please, don't chase your neighbors with a smoking phallus, Ma'am."
I let my ears speak for me a bit by pinning them back and looking down at my foot as I cough, "Err.. I won't, Sorry about that."
My ID's are returned, "Well...call this in, you're cooperating and we're swamped as it is."
The door shuts after they take down some additional information and deliver a 'please don't leave the country, or cause any more trouble' speech.
I glance out to the balcony as the music goes back up, I reach into the fridge and float a bottle of water to me.
I lied about the beer. I would love one though.
I drop back into the hammock and continue working on my control.
The stick wobbles in the air as I trace glowing lines in the air.
While pointedly grinning towards the lady across the courtyard.
She's very much not happy. And I very much don't care.
It is now 6pm
Do you know where your children are?
"No, vaguely threatening 90's tv guy, I do not."
Que the sound of C.O.P.S on the same Tv.
Of course, I'm in the kitchen, trying to figure out what to make.
And quickly realizing I'm going to have to go to the corner store.
I am not amused at this process.
Keys, wallet, phone and I'm out the door. These sleeve pockets are pretty handy.
Behold, I am a wizard.
I cut through the open desert lot, barefoot.
Yes, I realize this is stupid.
Right about the time I step down and hiss, I realize I've been fucking around with my head in the clouds.
YouHaveSteppedIntoAMinefield.jpg.
Using my mind, because I need to learn, I yank the offending teddy bear cholla out of my foot and send it bouncing amongst it's breathren.
Right, this is gonna be stupid.
Wingardium Leviosa, bitches.
The floating chunks of cactus begin clearing a path for me as he patiently make my way across the lot.
And right into a crowd of the local ne'er do wells.
I give them a look, the kinda that says I am not in the mood.
"Holy shit! It's one of them weird things that people are turning into."
I hold up a hand, and in the palm of my hand is a bouncing orb of flame
"I just want to get to the store."
They part like the red sea and I keep walking.
I step into the store and instantly regret it as the own jumps back from the counter.
Two minutes later I slap butter, milk and orange juice onto the countertop.
ClerkBSOD.exe
I produce my wallet, and drop ten onto the countertop, and just stare at them.
Win95bootup.wav
Cash register rings and out the door I go again as I shoulder the bag and head for the lot.
I'm halfway home when I hear the sirens.
I'm already done cooking when the knock at the door comes.
I pop the door open, both officers are back.
"I needed butter, milk and orange juice."
I produce my ID, and my veterans ID, they wave me off.
Courtesy call. Statement, not a danger, just getting groceries. They leave. I eat.
Day two of being a Pokemon, and my phone will not stop buzzing.
You know what sucks in this day and age?
And I don't just mean the ticks that are politicians, lawyers and corporations.
Social media.
Watching myself walking across the lot, and using the ball of fire to make the sea of kids part is a surreal experience.
So is the aftermath video of them breaking down how dangerous I could be.
"Buddy, you have zero Idea how harmless I am."
Of course, they talked to the cops, showed them the video, and now... I'm staring at the post on my parents facebook with them demanding to know why I didn't tell anyone.
How did this happen?
Easy! They followed the cops, and there's my bloody damn apartment number by the door. My phone has not stopped since.
Latest text?
Sister:"What the actual fuck!? Did you catch something overseas? How? when? This is so embarrassing!"
Bitch, please. How is this embarrassing to you?! right, My sisters superior sense of entitlement, that's how.
Mom:"Are... are you ok? do you want to talk about it?"
No, Ma. I want to sleep another hour and watch daytime TV and try ti ignore the kids outside my window chattering about the pokemon in the building.
The clock on the way states seven am and I am already tired of today.
Eight AM and I'm grouchy.
Breakfast is actually a simple affair - SEGs.
Sausage, Eggs, Muffin, half rasher of bacon and orange juice.
My phone is propped up on the coffee table as I read the list of messages, they still haven't stopped coming in.
I did not want to become a minor celebrity.
TikTok had other plans, must a slow news day. Facebook is going off, and management had stopped by already.
We need to revise our...contract with you. Sura ya did buddy, I'm not a protected species, and I'm not human. Can't have animals, you know, policy, and all that shit. Right?
Good thing I'm good at fast talking, Gave 'em the ol' PR spin: If they pass a law stating they can't discriminate, how's that lawsuit gonna look?
One Year Lease: Get!
I'm tossing my trash into the bin when I hear it.
My Sister.
My Mom.
I leave the front door cracked open and drop the doormat on the ground in front of it as they come up the top of the stairs.
Yes, I did this on purpose.
'If you're here to bitch, get to steppin'.'
My sister speaks first, "Oh. My. Gawd. You're still such an asshole."
I pause, point to the doormat, "You can fuck off, Mom can come in. I don't have time for your shit."
Of course, Mum's there to play peacemaker as she shoots my sister a look and enters.
The Evil eye, from a thousand yards. Works every time.
I set out drinks, I'm a gracious host while we chat about how it all happened. And what I'm going to do about my 'situation'.
It's simple, We kill the batman, I mean, I stay put.
My sister keeps her whore mouth shut and stays the hell off social media about this.
And I continue like nothing happened.
Of course, that's not sitting well with either of them.
Have I tried just not being a pokemon? <-My sister. OF course, Mom -> Have I seen the CDC, is it contagious, did I catch it overseas? You know I never should've signed up for all that people come back different.
I just sigh, I can feel the headache forming.
Have you tried not being a pokemon?
Progenitor, please. I settle on snark instead.
Do I look like I want to be a four foot tall magical fox?
How dare you talk to m-
God I love Psychic powers. Her lips won't move cause I super glued them shut. "Just shut up."
Be nice to your sister.
"No. You both can leave, thank you, I have enough stress in my life without Hildebeast the flyinghippo floating through my life. Kthanxbai."
Peace restored to the kingdom after they leave. I can still hear her screeching like a banshee to their car. Guess I'm out of the christmas card this year.
Oh no... anyways.jpg.
I click the Tv back on, news, news, news... for the love of Arceus' shiny brass bells... I sprawl on the couch and squint up at the ceiling.
That spider looks like a facehugger....
GENERALS GATHERED IN THEIR MASSES!!!!
I let the volume speak loudly, for I was in a mood.
JUST LIKE WITCHES AT BLACK MASSES!
The rapid sound of fingers on keyboard echoed just under the riffs as my eyes began narrowing, lips curling away from sharp glistening canines.
EVIL MINDS THE PLOT DESTRUCTION!
My headset is going to take a little getting used to, but it works, "I swear to fuck the next one of you knuckle dragging, braindead, Non-rotating, Mechanic missing, mouth-breathing, Sheibe-spewing Tanks fucking dies I will swap from Holy to Prot and proceed to beat you to death-"
SORCERER OF DEATHS CONSTRUCTION
I watch in bald faced horror as the Lich Kings sword goes up and the whole raid wipes for the fifth time. Leaving me standing there, staring at my impeding death.
IN THE FIELDS THE BODIES BURNING!
The voice chat is oddly quiet, :Sooo.... Phox... : "Fuck. Off. How am I the only one who is always alive, do you guys even listen when I call out-" :You gonna unmute yourself so we can hear your callouts?:
AS THE WARMACH-FUUUUUUUUUCK-INE KEEPS TURNING!
If I wasn't covered in fur I'd be red as a cherry, and thankfully the music is drowning out the slew of swears, slurs calling my own parentage in question, and declaring dishonor upon my ancestors and their cow. and Besse didn't even do anything wrong this time!
POISONING THEIR BRAINWASHED MINDS!
I click unmute, "Right. Repairs are on me, and I'll give up that chest piece for my tanking set to any tank that needs it."
OH LORD YEAH!
So yeah. Hyuuuge nerd. WoTLK is peak wow.
FiteMe.gif
I'm not about to let the fact I'm short one finger stop me. I own a mouse with a keypad on the side because I am absolutely lazy.
The hiss crack of a Dr. pepper fills the air and I ignore how badly my nose and senses recoil as I drink it.
If I got used to near beer overseas, I can get used to drinking this. It could be worse, I could still be craving Bolani from the shitty 'don't ask what is in it' stand just outside the base.
The cigar gets ashed to the side as I finish tallying up tonights haul, I got lucky and got the chest piece I needed for my tank set, groovy. Repairs weren't that bad, and we did actually earn our Kingslayer titles tonight. I can't be too angry.
Why is my screen blurry anyways?
Wait... Why does that clock say it's seven AM?
Oh for fucks sake. I shake my head slowly and get up and stretch.
And stare at my arch nemesis across the hallway.
The Dreaded Shower. It awaits thee.
I'm going to smell like wet dog after this, ain't I?
I feel like soaked rat.
Check that, I look like a drowned rat.
also, obligatory 'Hey did you guys know, Vaporeons...' copypasta here.
The shower was nice however I gave up halfway through and just took a bath instead.
Much better results, until I got out of the tub.
Here I stand, wet and weary.
Eyes red and bleary.
Trying my damndest to figure out how to - ... I'm a special kind of dumb, apparently.
No, I do not need a towel.
I am a goddamned magical fox.
With fancy magical fox powers.
I gave up on the towel ages ago, I'd probably end up with friction burns and still look like a wet dog, I do, however, understand how a blow dryer works.
No, I do not own one. That would've made this easier to figure out.
Waves of energy roll off me like some aura farming JoJo stand. Heat wavering in the air around me as I focus, add a little spin around me and... nothing.
This takes some serious concentration.
Fuckit. We Ball.
Magical girl Mode: engage!
Manifest the flames, spin them around me, use the psychic energy to keep it actually off me, and from torching the tub.
After a few practice runs we tighten the spin, let the heat through without the flames.
I like big flames and I cannot lie, all you other fuckers can't deny.
I'm short, I'm strong, and these flames gonna get the friction on!
And now I look like a fuckin' poodle.
God. Damn. It.
I debated on if I was gonna write this or not, But I am. Because some of you may or may not have family like this. 'There Is No Hate Like Christian Love.'
I really should have taken my key back from my mom. Really. Really Should Have.
I had also forgotten. You know, on account of turning into a five foot tall magical fox.
I was hardly surprised when my apartment door swung open on it's own.
Ya'll didn't have the decency to shut the damn thing? A/C is expensive as hell.
I purposefully ignored the six people sitting in my living room.
And the two priests looks of horror at watching me, cigar between my lips, trot through my living room through them all, to my kitchen where I put my groceries away.
One trip, bitches. These bags float.
I stood in the kitchen as I mentally directed the bags to empty themselves into the fridge, freezer, dishwasher and cabinets.
My phone floated off the table where I had left it, nearly smacking my sister in the face. Nix that, firmly smacking her in the face with a loud yelp.
I kept staring at the sink, grinning so they couldn't see, as I paid my bills, tapped out the ashes of my cigar and then slowly turned.
"Get. Out."
Of course, that just opens the flood gates, My sister just there to stir shit, as usual. But My aunt, and her cult being in my house is whats causing the sparks along my fur to start.
'Phox, honeys, we're worried about.... your possession. It's unholy, the priests here had extensive knowledge on excorcis-'
I cut that off by snapping a finger and sparking a miniature ball of fire to pop into being, "I cut off contact with you wastes of space about the time you started screaming hate and vitriol at me for burning your protest signs before you could protest a fucking make a wish patients cancer surgery and screaming god hates them because they're gay. Now. Get. The FUCK OUT."
I didn't even let them finish as I slammed my door open and snarled.
Of course, that's also how I ended up pinned by both priests.
Yes, Pinned. Because I had walked to the door to open it.
Never turn your back on the enemy, I had broken my own rule and somewhere deep in my brain as I was roughly shoved to the floor on my knees and felt 'holy water' thrown in my face while a chorus of 'nice ladies' chanted Latin scripture about casting out the unclean in his name.
PTSD is just the devil tempting you, ya know?
My breathing hitched and my eyes dilated. I could physically feel something leave my body.
It was NOT the devil, that's for certain.
It was the rational part of my mind.
The Irrational part of my brain decided to let Comrade PTSD take the wheel, Jesus could sit the fuck down in the passenger seat for now.
First, Those bibles, snatched the hell out of hands and thrown out the front door.
The smell of singed hair and flesh will never not make me violently ill after my third deployment.
I came to vomiting my guts out into the kitchen sink.
Thankfully I just burnt the hands holding me down and in a surprisingly gentle move.
Simply tossed them all out onto my porch, at least that's what my ring cam, living room and hallway camera's showed.
It's like watching a horror film, really, it is.
Except you're the main star and you just fucking know you made their case for them.
Lemonade to wash out the bile, and a fast call to my lawyer
Thankfully, My lawyer was also on speed dial.
Spilledmyguts.midi
Restraining orders, And police response back to back.
The screaming and shouting and sirens outside were not helping me one bit. I could hear their thoughts, because I used to think like them.
I knew how this narrative was going to spin.
And that's how I found myself face buried in my hands as a pair of officers sat opposite me, the scent of burnt fox hair and flesh in the air.
And a very, very angry military chaplain.
Life got stupidly busy. Also going to timewarp, I do not feel like writing up flakk and fallout from previous arc. Left a bad taste in my mouth.
One thing people don't tell you about being a magical firefox is that despite the hair in my ears? My hearing is the stuff of nightmares for anyone trying to be silent.
Like whatever keeps scratching at my front door.
Everytime I start to fall asleep?
Scratch. Scratch. Scraaaaatch.
4am blinks at my eyes as they peel open for the third time and I huff.
Feet hit the floor, since the chaos I've modified the bed frame to sit lower.
I have a majikal stikk, and it apparently cuts metal... with a hot enough flame.
I should sent a gift to the ladies at the front office, third time I've accidentally set off the fire alarms.
Security deposit? lol, nope. Not at this rate.
Scratch. Scraaatch.
I get up and walk to the door, nothing in the peephole and after a quick look at the ring cam I'm just narrowing my eyes.
'I know what you are. Go home.'
|Is home. Hungry.|
My eyes widen slightly, 'Is not, I live here.'
|Then feed me.|
Scraaaaaatch. Scrrraaaaattttccccch.
'I have no food for you.'
I probably look like a lunatic, wordlessly shouting at my door.
The song 'they're coming to take me away, hee haa hee!' plays in the back of my brain as I open the door and stare down at my visitor.
Meow.
Oh fuck. He's adorable.
|Feed me|
I grumble as I step aside and rummage through my fridge and set out a can of tuna, a small dish and bowl, water goes into one, Tuna the other and I set it down.
'See, not your home. Eat then go home.' I even scratch the little bastard on the back of an ear while he munches happily away.
Reminds me of my own cat I had to give to a friend who then moved away...
'You could have just robbed a store or something.'
|No, food here, is home.|
My lips twitch in annoyance.
"they always did say orange tabby's have a single braincell they share..."
|Ruuude.... More fish?|
" ... .... Fine..."
My mind of course recoils hard enough to give me a jolt the moment my eyes crack open.
Purring, mild annoyance at me moving and of course I sit up on the couch.
At some point I passed out and glance to the TV with a grumble, A blue Gardevoir is apparently the focus of attention in the media for becoming an actress.
Or rather, was an actress and is very much not going to let it stop her. According to the person translating for her.
I wonder if the army is recruiting psychic foxes that can set people on fire and read minds.
I'd probably end up stuck around the men who stare at goats or something, think I'll pass on that.
You know what? Three letter agencies are also right out. Last thing I need to be telling people is that I'm from the government and I'm not here to help.
I wander to my PC and wiggle the mouse, notifications for Raid night, handful of DM's, invitation to D&D night.
Emails from my family, emails from the church.
The cult wants nothing to do with me, that works for me.
Lawyer fees handled and dealt with, chaplain's being reassigned to a new unit. That sucks. Wish him well.
Delete the death threats, Come try me, fuckers. I dare you.
Oh hey, new Shadowrun edition, hope it's better than the last two dumpster fire editions.
I grab the nearby bottle of water and down it, alongside veterinary prescribed grade tranquilizers. Ok, low grade horse tranquilizer probably, but it's helping the anxiety.
Cigar in hand and Kitten at my heels |Feeeeeed ME!| "You got a full bowl of frickin cat food." |I can see the bottom of the bowl, it's empty.|
I just give the kitten a look, "That is NOT how that works."
I drop into the hammock and continue to work and focus on mastering both dual sets of abilities.
I even spent hours the previous night, hence waking on the couch, going over everything known about firetypes and psychic types.
Google is both boon and bane, and I really should've left safesearch on for once.
Kids are playing, and in a detached way I'm watching them, and shaping fire into a infinite loop and compressing it...
While also catching the occasional kid that would have faceplanted into the rocks.
It's supposed to be soft sand, but lets be real here, thing could be lined with clouds and duck down and kids would hurt themselves.
I pause and look down at the kitten as it squeezes through the bars to watch the kids, "Get back here, before one of the kids does something stupid and it knocks you off." |Butterfly.|
I pick said cat up, by the scruff, |Stinky stick.| And move the cigar to the other side of my mouth, "Stay on this side of the bars." |Stinky stick breath.|
My ears pin back as we both begin narrowing eyes and staring at the other, "Behave." |No.|
There's a certain smell in the air sometimes.
Just a hint, a soft whiff, you walk by it and never even notice it until one day you do.
I'm standing in line, five people deep, apparently this place is popular.
My mouth is a mix of cotton and saliva, I can smell the meat being roasted.
Ironically, it's a damned Vulpix running the grill, apparently heat control is a big reason why this place is so popular.
That and well, Pokemon at work apparently.
I half expected something else, I dunno, charmeleon? Skeledirge? I'm mulling that thought over as I find myself second from the counter and then I smell it.
It's little things that trigger you sometimes.
I'm on a high enough dose my brain tingles when I pop a dose, and so far few things have gotten through.
You will never forget that smell.
It burrows into you, becomes all you can think about.
I feel the flames licking around me, fat and gristle sizzling...
The smell is everywhere, and on everything.
I step upto the counter and make my order, getting a half wave from the Vulpix working the grill.
Whats on the grill is what I'm seeing in my mind, and I manage a wave, and attempt a grin as my world wobbles.
Five minutes later I'm normal again, the world's not going to go upside down on me and I've managed to get myself under control.
It's fine. I'm fine. How are you? Yeah, Dave from stormtrooper engineering's working on a reactor down here....
My number comes up and I'm already almsot hyperventilating but I can keep it together as I grab my bag, drink, carkeys and scramble to the car.
All I can smell is meat burning and hear the crackle-sizzle of fire and fat.
My apartment door opens, shuts and I drop everything on the counter
and as I sit on the couch I think I've gotten myself under control enough to not look like a coke fiend, or twitchy methaddict.
Asshole cat is outside sunbathing on the balcony
I flip the lid of the carton and there it is.
The smell fills the air, I had tracked it for three blocks, on foot, like a crack head searching for a score.
And now I stared at the newspaper wrapped, greasy, dripping chunks of meat on a spike.
I'm trembling as I eat the first chunk of meat and exhale.
My therapist is going to give me a shit for this.
I no longer care.
Do you know how badly I've missed street side cooking? Used to be a cart out in the bazaar off base.
Some of the best Bolani and goat skewers I had ever, or will ever, have.
The smell of the seasoned meat, spiced properly, cooked at the right temperature...
|FEED ME|
I shriek in terror as purrboi lands on my lap with a thud, the carton lands on the table, and he sprints off with a chunk of goat skewere.
"YOU LITTLE SHIT! GET BACK HERE!"
Ever realize at some point things are gonna go sideways?
That's how I found myself hovering upside down, in my living room.
I figured you know, it'd be easy to pull off, always wanted to fly, never met the Req's to be a pilot.
I do like skydiving, despite a crippling terror of heights. Even made it through Jumpschool and air assault.
So now I'm sitting here upside down, a migraine and trying to figure out how to get down without panicking.
Ok, there may be a whole hell of a lot more panicking than I'm letting on.
THUD! That'd be my face...
CR-ACK!Going full scorpion....
THUMP! And landing on my back upon the coffee table...
Gaze upon my works ye mighty and despair! for I herald the Ending of the age of man, and the rise of the age of Fur!
I look like a modern art masterpiece as I hold a bag of ice to my swollen muzzle.
carefully and slowly limping out of the kitchen to sit down on the couch and grimace.
To laughter from my computer, Apparently streaming this to friends was not my crowning moment of glory, I lift up a middle finger and kill the stream.