File: Goat-Thing.png (367 KB, 480x639)

367 KB PNG

>Archive
http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?searchall=Spooky+Girl

>QM Twitter
https://twitter.com/timekillerqm

I allow between ten and twenty minutes for voting depending on the importance of the issue and how divided the vote is. If the vote is tied up, I usually allow an extra five minutes for a tie breaker, and if no one votes, I roll for the tie breaker.

I always try to incorporate (and encourage!) write ins if they don't violate the spirit of voted decisions, though I may edit or tweak them to fit better.

X

Your breath comes in a sharp gasp. You bolt up in bed, hand to your chest. Had you been holding your breath? A turn of your head shows you the morning sun just starting to peak over the tops of the trees behind your house.

It's Saturday, October 7th, 2017. Three days since your life got weird enough to make your characteristic spookiness look downright mundane by comparison.

{Alice, are you alright? Did you have a bad dream?}

The question audible only in your mind but comes in a voice that is almost, but not quite, your own. The thing that speaks you only know as your 'Friend'. It had come to you during a low point in your life, glowing orb that had the voice of a child. It offered friendship. Eternal friendship.

In exchange you'd been given powers. The ability to fly and to pass through solid matter. A gift, though one you'd only really used to make travelling more continent for yourself.

You knew virtually nothing about your Friend save that you weren't the first to share a head with it, that it spoke French, Spanish, Italian, German, and English at least, and that it was hundreds of years old. Oh, and that it considers your somehow "special".


>A nightmare, I've been having them lately
>I had a dream all my teeth fell out or something
>No, just a weird feeling in my chest
>Write in

>>2070778
>No, just a weird feeling in my chest

>>2070778
>A nightmare, I've been having them lately

For a second I thought that was our secret admirer

>>2070798
>>2070811

>Writing

File: 000000.jpg (93 KB, 540x360)

93 KB JPG

"Just a weird feeling in my chest," you say, giving your sternum one last sympathetic rub.

{Hmm, I think you've been having bad dreams lately, Alice. You don't sleep very well.}

"What, don't you sleep?"

{No.}

"So what, you just sit and wait?"

{I reflect on the past and look forward to the future. Especially now that we're Friends. I have so much to look forward to, Alice.}

You sigh, brushing back your hair. "I've had a few nightmares lately," you admit.

{I'm sorry, Alice. Do they bother you?}

You shrug, "They're weird. But I'll live." You throw back your covers and shiver, goosebumps prickling the skin of your arms as the cold air hits them. Today you have a study session scheduled with Sam. You're going to be tutoring her in Spanish, a language you know virtually nothing about. Of course, you don't really need to since your Friend is capable of speaking for you, and they speak Spanish fluently.

You dress quickly, (black tank top, skull-sweater, black jeans) before going downstairs to grab a bite for breakfast.

The main part of the house is quiet, Grace and Mark's bedroom door is closed, probably Mark sleeping off a late night being on call, and from the attached funeral parlor you hear vacuuming.

You pour a bowl of cereal and sit and the kitchen table.

{So, Alice, what's first today?}

As an answer, while you chew Captain Crunch, you pull out your phone and call up Sam's number, typing up a quick message.

>Hey Sam, still on for studying at four? Do you want me to bring movies?

{Exciting! I'm very much looking forward to this, Alice.}

Sam's reply is quick.

>yeah! four works. If you want to bring movies, go ahead! I warn you that I get distracted easy :)

{Now you only have the whole day to kill before then. Any plans, Alice?}


>Ask Sam to hang earlier
>Just read and relax
>Talk with Zack to kill time
>Work on the Cliff issue
>Write in

>>2070850
>Check under your bed? It's silly, but...
>Work on the Cliff issue


Due diligence and such.

>>2070850
>Work on the Cliff issue

He's gotta be what? 70-something now?

>>2070870
>He's gotta be what? 70-something now?
Exactly right.

>Work on the Cliff issue

+ write in

>writing

Despite the sugary-sweetness of Captain Crunch filling your mouth, you couldn't shake the strange feeling that dream had left you with. You couldn't stop thinking of those flies swarming under your bed, now crunching down on the cereal put you in mind of crunching down on a fly carapace.

You drop your spoon in your bowl and slide it away from yourself, much less hungry.

"I think we'll look into finding Cliff. I did promise Ellie. Dude's gotta be pushing seventy though."

Your Friend has no response.

You think again about your bed.

Putting your dishes in the sink, you head back upstairs and to your room, your bed looks unassuming as always but . . .

You stop an arm's length away looking down at it.

{Are you alright, Alice?}

You get down on all fours and, with a deep breath, lift the bed skirt.

Oh.

Your copy of House of Leaves. You'd been looking for that. Otherwise, some dirty laundry and dust bunnies. No ravenous fly-swarms.

You slide the large tome out. You had to finish reading this at some point . . .

{Are you looking for something, Alice?}

A new tone in your Friend's voice. Suspicion.


>Just this book, no big deal
>Tell your Friend the truth
>Write in

>>2070908
>Tell your Friend the truth

Just being a little paranoid,and silly I guess

>>2070908
>>Tell your Friend the truth
Hey, didn't realize you were running this today! Good to see you back so soon!

>>2070931
>Hey, didn't realize you were running this today! Good to see you back so soon!
Good to be here! It's a special with Dark Empire in the grave on hiatus. I'll have a bit more time for Spooky Girl.

At least until I launch War of the Roses.

>Tell your Friend the truth

>writing

>>2070956
Just got home from work and showered. Was afraid I’d miss the thread.

Also, one of my coworkers got robbed at gunpoint outside the store. Fun times.

>>2070989
Shit, my condolences to your friend

>>2070989
Jesus, that sucks. Is he doing alright?

You sit back on your heels, putting the book down beside you.

"I did have a nightmare," you say, "or a weird dream. There was this buzzing sound under my bed and . . . A goat person thing with no face. The buzzing was a bunch of flies that attacked me and . . . Well I guess I'm just being a little paranoid and silly."

Your friend takes a while to respond.

{Being paranoid and silly is okay. I wouldn't worry about it. It was just a dream, Alice.}

"I know." you look to the small, circular window above your bed and try to envision that goat-thing there. Instead, you shake your head. "Anyway, let's get working. We know Cliff used to be an injury and accident attorney and that he operated out of Lasker city before retiring."

{How will you get to Lasker City?}

"Well," you say, "I mean I could fly. Or get a ride with Franz, or Mark even."

{Or Zack.}

"Or Zack," you allow. "Point is, I have the means. I looked for Cliff on Facebook and didn't turn him up. I'll check Whitepages though, maybe we can turn up some addresses.

It doesn't take long.

"There," you put your finger on the screen. 'Clifford B. Ellison. 1121 S Mangum Street, Lasker City.'"

{Very Impressive, Alice.}

"Not really," you laugh, "You can thank internet databases."

{That means you just need to decide when to go. You've got plans to spend time with Zack tomorrow. He might take you.}

"It might also rub him the wrong way if I ask him to do me a favor while we're hanging out," you counter.

{Zack owes us three favors. A pact was sealed.}

"Pact?" you'd forgotten about the promise you'd made Zack give, but this was the first you'd heard of a pact.

{Yes. A promise made to you, or to me, and sealed with blood is a pact that cannot be broken by ordinary means. Zack doesn't know it yet, but he cannot refuse your next three favors. If you choose to use one for a ride, instead of something more . . . Recreational, then he cannot say 'no'.}

You blush at your Friend's implications. "I-I don't think I'd use it for something like that!"

{You may change your mind. You may find you like power, Alice.}

You'd been half kidding about making Zack your slave but . . . Well the idea was interesting. In any case, you would need a ride to get to Cliff's. Flying yourself was possible but of course carried the risk of being seen. You couldn't begin to imagine what the consequences of that would be, but you visualized the front page of Reddit with an image of some distant goth girl flying through the air. Not pleasant.

Zack could apparently be persuaded to drive you, for whatever that entailed, of course it might use one of your three favors.

Mark might do it, but he'd probably have questions that might be uncomfortable for you.

Franz you knew, and trusted to a degree, but that carried the unpleasant side-effect of having to be with Franz.


>Forget it I'll fly myself
>Ask Zack to give me a ride
>Ask Mark to give me a ride
>Ask Franz to give me a ride
>Write in

>>2070989
Welcome back! Glad you made it!

Really sucks about the coworker, that's fucking crazy. Hope you and they are alright.

File: Spoiler Image (20 KB, 310x440)

20 KB JPG

>>2071030
>>Ask Franz to give me a ride
At least with Franz, he won't make a pass at me. And if he starts something, I can tell Sam about it.

"Hey, Friend? About those favors... Do you think Zack kinda looks a bit like this guy? Because I've got an idea for Halloween..."

>(brings up pic related)

>>2071030
>Ask Zack to give me a ride


"A promise made to you, or to me, and sealed with blood is a pact that cannot be broken by ordinary means. Zack doesn't know it yet, but he cannot refuse your next three favors."


Hot damn. Thanks Friend

File: 75DF5993-270B-4770-9FD4-1(...).jpg (1.61 MB, 4032x3024)

1.61 MB JPG

>>2071007
>>2071033
He got mugged in the corner right next to the store. He wasn’t injured, but I think he lost his phone or some money. Pic related. The police that are grouped up on the right are in front of the corner.

>>2071055
Going with this vote.

>>2071030
>>Ask Zack to give me a ride


By the way, TK, is there any significance to the different colored text here?
>>2070908
>Your copy of House of Leaves.

File: Spoiler Image (12 KB, 320x265)

12 KB JPG

Rolled 1 (1d2)

>Ask Franz to give me a ride
>>2071055
>>2071098

>Ask Zack to give me a ride
>>2071058
>>2071099

Me: Gee, these ties won't be so bad once I get a few more people voting.

Hubris!

>>2071099
>significance to the different colored
Not for our story. Just a stupid reference. Within that story, 'House' is always written in blue. Pictured.

>Writing what is rolled 1 is franz 2 is zack

You're torn between Franz and Zack a moment, each had benefits and draw backs. "Better save that favor," you say.

{I'm sure.}

"You know, for someone who supposedly has no interest in me, you sure are interested in my sexuality!" you say in a huff.

{Only because you're so sensitive.}

Your friend rolls with glee.

{I like to think that we're close enough that I can tease you a little bit. Go on, suggest that I just want to 'eat' people.}

"'m good." you were still a bit annoyed. "At least with Franz, he won't make a pass at me. . . . Probably. And if he starts something, I can tell Sam about it."

{Leverage is always good.}

"Hey, Friend? About those favors... Do you think Zack kinda looks a bit like . . . this guy? Because I've got an idea for Halloween . . ." You call up the image after a quick google search.

{Not remotely. He is not nearly as old as that gentleman and doesn't have a mustache.}

"Hmph." you close the lid on your laptop, pouting a bit. "Maybe with a few tweaks we could get him close."

You glance at your phone. You've still got more time before you have to head over to Sam's place, it's just barely past noon.


>Catch up on my reading
>Text/call someone (write in)
>Write in

>>2071135
>Catch up on my reading

>>2071135
>>Catch up on my reading

>>2071160
Ah, you know what, I'd like to add a write in too.
>Ask our Friend exactly how powerful this 'pact' we formed with Zack is. Like, can we compel him to do anything, or only things within reason? What would happen if he refused a favor for whatever reason?

>>2071135
>Try to see if you have the material for a real authentic looking Morticia Addams costume for Halloween this year.

>>2071172
This as well.

>Catch up on my reading

+

>Write ins

"So," you ask conversationally, "Exactly how powerful is this 'pact' we have with Zack?

{Anything. Anything that's possible. Zack cannot be compelled to create a four-sided triangle or to invent a better mousetrap. He is limited by his own physical and mental limitations. But perhaps you think his tongue would make a lovely gift. He would find it an irresistible suggestion.}

"Wow. Well, can he not say 'no'?"

{If Zack were to attempt to refuse, he would find that refusal has a price and he would likely find that price steeper than simply paying the favor. Any favor.}

"What price?" you ask.

{Zack would surrender what free will he had left and would find himself permanently under your control. Although at that point there might not be much left of poor Zack.}

"You mean you'd eat his soul or something?"

Your Friend says nothing, but radiates satisfaction.

"Wow," you repeat. "What if I wanted him to like, get naked, or kill somebody."

{As I said, Alice, Zack would be willing to cut his tongue from his mouth for you. Those are child's play. If the request is mundane enough, he might not even question it. The more overtly you force him, the more outlandish the request, the more his mind will rationalize the situation. If he cannot rationalize it, he may lose a piece of himself.}

Your Friend chuckles silently.

{And I mean more than just a tongue.}

"What, like he'll go crazy?"

{Not quite, but he won't go back to the way he was. I would suggest you not ask Zack to self-mutilate unless you find you'd enjoy it or feel he owes you for your own cut.}

You'd almost forgotten how you'd cut your own hand open. "Seems like Zack got a bit in over his head."

{Perhaps he'll learn to be more carefully about asking strange, pretty girls for their blood in the future.}

You snort. "Okay, cool. I'll keep all that in mind." You cross your room to the small crawl-space door in your wall that serves as a sort of closet or storage space for you. "I'm not going to worry about it. I'm going to make sure I've got what I need for my costume and then I'm gonna relax with a book until it's time to go to Sam's."

{Alright, Alice.}

Now, where did you put that fabric?

(1/2)

The alarm on your phone startled you out of your book. The tail end of Helter Skelter. Time to get going!

You toss the book down, snatch up your backpack and head downstairs.

"Oh, hey Alice!" Grace says as you enter the living room, enjoying her own book which looks like some trashy romance novel. Mark sits beside her playing Call of Duty on the TV, nearly silent to you and only barely audible through the headphones he wears.

"Hi." You turn to leave.

"Where you off to?" Mark asks, pulling off the headphones.

"I've got plans to study. With a friend."

"Oh? Is it . . . Someone I know?" Grace was going to say 'Franz' because he's the only person she knows you've hung out with in recent memory. She doesn't know all the details, but she knows enough to leave his name out of her mouth.

"Her name is Sam," you say.

"Where's she live?" Mark asks.

"Near school. Not far."

Mark pauses his game, "Sounds like quite a walk. Come on, I'll give you a ride."

You and Mark weren't close by any stretch of the imagination, but you didn't sense any negativity in his voice, Maybe he was trying to 'reach out' to you a bit. Be more of a foster father in the way your sister tried to replace your mother.


>Sure
>No thanks, I can walk
>write in

>>2071241
>>Sure

>>2071241
>>Sure

>>2071241
>Sure

>Sure

>writing

A glance at Grace tells you how much it would hurt her feelings if you said 'no'.

"Sure."

It only takes Mark a minute to pull on his boots and his EMS jacket. The two of you exit the back of the house and climb into his truck, the door squeaking a bit when you pull it closed behind you.

With a wheeze, the Bronco roars to life and Mark puts it in gear. "You care if we listen to some music?"

"That's fine," you say.

Mark hits play on his iPod and some song you recognize as REM starts playing. You're not sure of the title.

The two of you ride in silence the first minute, your hands in your lap, staring pointedly ahead.

"So, what are you two going to study?" he asks.

"Uh." The question catches you off guard. Telling him the truth would raise a lot of questions. "French."

"Ah."

More silence.

"Grace is worried about you. You've been acting different." Mark doesn't look away from the road when he talks. You're also not sure if it's Grace who's worried about you or him.

"I'm fine," you say.

Mark slows to a stop at a stop sign but does not drive on. He looks over to you. "You come in late, going who-knows-where. You're acting weird." he snorts humorlessly, "I mean weirder than usual. I mean, fine, you're into all that-" he waves a hand at you "Stuff. You're a kid, I did crazy shit as a kid too. But if you're getting into drugs or something, you're going to break your poor sister's heart. She can't handle losing you on top of her folks."

As if they weren't also your parents. "I'm not into drugs, Mark," you reply with a bit more snap than you meant. "I've just been busy. Hanging out with friends and stuff."

"Friends? What friends? The only person you ever talked about was your boyfriend, and that was years ago."

"I've met people."

"What sort of people?"


>That's not your business
>Just friends
>{Don't you want me getting out more?}

>>2071331
>{Don't you want me getting out more?}
>I mean, if you want me to act normal-ish, actually seeing people other then you and Grace would be a way to start.

>>2071331
>{Don't you want me getting out more?}

>>2071348
This.

>{Don't you want me getting out more?}

+

>Write in

>Writing

File: Ride.gif (1.99 MB, 500x375)

1.99 MB GIF

Before you can stammer out a reply your mouth works of its own accord.

"Don't you want me getting out more, Mark?"

Your Friend speaking for you.

"I mean," you say, trying to elaborate. "If you want me to act normal-ish, actually seeing people other than you and Grace would be a way to start."

Mark considers this, "Yeah, but only when I know where you're going and when you're coming back." He shakes his head, "You don't see the things I see, you're still just a kid. Grace told me someone might be sneaking around the house leaving you notes. I don't appreciate that, tell that guy to knock it off and get a tinder like a regular human being, okay?"

You didn't bother explaining to Mark that you didn't know who that was. "Okay," you say, "and I'll be more open."

Mark finally drives again, passing through the intersection, shaking his head. "You'll thank me when you're older. The last thing Grace needs is worrying about her sister doing god knows what and wandering around the house talking to herself."

You don't rise to that jab. "This is the place."

Mark eases his truck over to the shoulder and stops in front of Sam's house. "Be back before late."

"Okay."

You climb out, taking your backpack with you and close the door behind you.

(1/2)

Mark pulls away as soon as the door is shut leaving you to walk the leaf-strewn pathway to the door alone. A few seconds after you knock, the door is pulled open and you're left facing a wasp-y (in ever sense of the word) woman looking down at you.

"Hi. Um," you swallow, "I-is Sam here?"

The woman, you assume Sam's mom, studies you a moment, her face skeptical. "Sam!"

"I heard it, Mom." Sam enters the hall from a room further back, the kitchen. "Hi, Alice."

"Hi," you say meekly.

"Come on, we can study in the basement."

Sam's mother steps aside and you follow Sam into the house, key-chain on your backpack jingling, boots thumping the floor.

"You girls let me know if you get hungry."

"Okaaay mom," Sam replies, not looking back. She does look at you. "So, you ready to study?"

"Yeah," you say, "I also brought some movies if you're interested."

Sam laughs, "Sure, I guess. As long as I learn something. My mom keeps telling me 'this is study time, not hang out time'." She stops at a door in the hall and pulls it open, revealing some unfinished wood steps descending into darkness. "I promise it's not haunted or a weird sex dungeon or anything."

{Oh, what a shame.}

You laugh, more at your Friend than Sam, but head down the creaking steps into the basement, Sam flicks a switch behind you and the room is illuminated. You first notice the drum set deployed in the corner, and then the Union Jack and Jolly Rogers hanging behind it. The ceiling is covered in makeshift soundproofing. Egg cartons and cardboard and the like. You see a number of band posters and a large, old CRT TV with a Sega hooked up to it.

"Are the drums yours?" you ask.

"Nah. My brothers. He doesn't play much anymore, he's off at college, I can play a little bit but not really." She gestures to a threadbare couch facing the TV sat with a stained coffee table in front of it.

You sit carefully at one end, Sam at the other.

"Thanks for coming down," she says, "I mean, Spanish is really kicking my ass and I need hella help."

"No problem," you say, wondering where even to start.

{I can handle the Spanish parts, Alice. It's no problem.}

You take a deep, uneasy breath. "Okay, so what are you learning?

X

"I think I'm getting it," Sam says, looking over the flash cards she'd studiously made. You were surprised to have learned a little yourself, though it was weird being a passenger in your own body. "You're good at this stuff."

"It comes with experience," you say, your Friend speaking for you.

"So," Sam says, putting her flash cards down, "Do you want to hang a bit? Watch those movies then?"

"Aren't we supposed to just study?" you ask. "Your mom-"

"Doesn't ever come down here," Sam says. "She hates this basement, says it's full of bugs and shit. Nah, we've got some room to chill if you want."


>We can watch a movie
>I kind of want to hear you play drums
>What games do you have?
>Write in

>>2071428
>>We can watch a movie

>We can watch a movie

>writing

"I did bring some movies," you say, pulling your laptop out of your backpack and setting it up on your lap.

"You promised me 80s cheese. I expect you to deliver!" Sam says, scooting to sit beside you so she can see the screen.

"How about one of my favorites," you reply, bringing up your movie folder. "Return of the Living Dead."

"It sounds promising," Sam says, sticking her tongue out.

"It was written by Dan O'Bannon, he wrote Alien. It's the origin for zombies craving brains."

"I was wondering about that!" Sam says, "I've never seen them in brains in movies really."

"They do in this one."

You press play.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KeSAFGWzft8

X

The punks are partying in the graveyard when one of their number, Trash, starts to strip. You'd forgotten about this part and, true to schlocky 80s fashion, they don't hold back. Of course, you immediately feel awkward watching this with Sam now, someone you don't know super well. Watching this with Franz hadn't been a big deal, because what would he complain about? Plus you guys made out through it a lot.

"Damn, she got some bomb-ass titties!" Sam laughs.

"She's pretty," you agree uncomfortably.

"Childhood role model?" Sam teases.

"Not really, I mean, she's cool, but not really my style."

"I like the dude with all the chains, that's pretty cool."

You nod.


>Do you like horror movies a lot?
>Franz and I used to watch this movie a lot
>You're cool too
>Say nothing
>write in

>>2071551
>You're cool too, you know.

File: Suicide and Trash.png (1.24 MB, 1024x576)

1.24 MB PNG

>>2071551
Suicide is the fucking man

>>2071551
>My role models were Morticia Addams and Elvira. Morticia for her relationship with her husband, Elvira for the obvious reasons.
>I've always wished I could rock Elvira's look, but I guess it wasn't in the cards.
>Anyway, Morticia's the whole reason why I took French in the first place. Gotta be authentic when I finally go to Bloodsplattercon.

>>2071551
>>Say nothing

>Making it work

>Writing

"You're cool too, you know," you say.

"What?" Sam asks grinning.

"I mean, you shouldn't think other people are cool. Well, that's okay to think but-" you take a deep breath to sort your thoughts, "You shouldn't be envious."

Sam laughs, giving you a light shove, "Who said I'm envious? You seem just a little too eager to tell me how cool you think I am."

"No, no!" you say quickly, "Not like that! I mean-"

"Like what?" Sam asks, clearly enjoying flustering you.

"I just think you're cool and should know it."

"You're pretty cool too," she says, "To be honest, if I'm envious of anyone, it's you. I mean, you rock your style, you know? You wear what you want and do what you want. That's pretty cool."

"Thanks," you say, not sure what else can be said. "and, just so you know, my real role models are probably Morticia Addams and Elvira."

Sam considers this and nods, "Okay, I can see it."

"Morticia for her relationship with her husband. They love each other so genuinely. Elvira for obvious reasons."

Sam holds her hands in front of her chest, miming boobs.

Now it's your turn to give her a light shove, giving a more easy laugh. "I always wished I could rock her look but I guess that wasn't in the cards."

Sam laughs, "I think you could do it. You wouldn't be as busty, but it'd be a nice look for you. I could help you with the makeup part."

You smile, "That could be cool, but I really don't think I could pull it off. Morticia's the reason I took French actually. I want to be authentic for Bloodsplattercon? Morticia wannabes are a dime a dozen. How many can speak French?"

"Damn, Alice. You're serious about this stuff. Bloodsplattercon?"

You nod, "I mean, one day."

"When you go, take me. Sounds cool!" Sam is quiet for a moment before adding, "You're a lot different than I thought. I mean, you were always really standoffish and quiet. I didn't imagine you being this talkative."

You shrug, turning your attention back to the chaos and bloodshed in the movie.

"I kinda figured you'd want me dead after . . . Well what happened with Franz."


>Maybe you'll make it up to me? (flirty)
>It's okay, I mean it. The past is the past
>What happened anyway?
>Write in

>>2071698
>I dunno. I got to admit, I was angry. But getting angry just got me hiding away from everything else in my life.
>What happened anyway? From what I figured, he initiated it.
>It's okay, I mean it. The past is the past.

>>2071698
>Write-in

At first I was angry, not so much with you as with him. I wish he would have talked with me instead of drifting away.

But through all this I realized something, if I let one bad experience ruin future opportunities then I truly deserve to be unhappy. I'm really glad we got to connect Sam, it's nice to get friendly with someone who's got a similar outlook and interests, ya'know?

>Write ins

>writing

File: Spoiler Image (40 KB, 500x515)

40 KB JPG

You're quiet for a minute. "I mean, I dunno. At first I was angry. Not really at you so much as him." You pick nervously at your fingernail. "I wish he would have just talked to me instead of . . . drifting away."

Sam reaches over and taps the spacebar to pause the moving, frowning at you. "Alice . . ."

You press on, "Being angry didn't help me though. I just ended up hiding away from everything else in my life. But then through all this I realized something: if I let one bad experience ruin future opportunities then I truly deserve to be unhappy."

Sam looks sympathetic, "I'm sorry Alice, I never knew . . . I never meant to hurt you."

"What happened anyway?" you ask, feeling a sting in your heart, the pain of reopening a wound. "From what I figured he initiated it."

Sam looks uneasy, "Um. Are you sure you want to talk about it?"

You wave for her to continue.

She sighs, "We were just hanging out in drama. Goofing off on the couch, you know? It was just us. Anyway things . . . well it just happened. I knew he was with you, he talked about you all the time, so I wasn't going to like . . . Proceed? I was going to let it go, I didn't want to mess up your life. Well, I mean people found out. I think someone saw us. Word got around and . . . " she looks at you, "And you found out. Alice, I'm reeaaally sorry."

{Unfaithful.}

Your Friend's interruption catches you off guard, though you're obviously unable to ask them what they mean exactly, you suddenly get a very negative sense from them.

"It's okay," you say, giving Sam a half-assed smile. "I mean it. The past is the past. I'm really glad we got to connect. It's nice to get friendly with someone who's got a similar outlook and interests, ya'know?"

Sam looks relieved, "Wow, you're super cool, Alice. I don't want there to be anything weird between us. Friends?"

Your smile brightens a bit more, "Friends."

***

And I'm out of time guys!

Thanks for playing, as always I had a great time, some really phenomenal write-ins keeping me on my toes, this is great.

Our next session will be Thursday, 7 EST (11 UTC) So, the normal time I guess. We'll finish up hanging with Sam and proceed from there. In-game Sunday is hanging with Zack.

Now's the time for Q&A, theories, complaints, requests, suggestions, and spoken-word poetry if any of that stuff exists.

https://twitter.com/TimeKillerQM

>>2071801
Thanks, boss. Great to see you here early.

Just have two questions this time.

What were Alice's last few Halloween costumes?

What's our financial situation looking like? Do we get an allowance, or is it time we get a part time job?

>>2071836
>Alice's last few Halloween costumes

>2016 Patricia Morrison/Goth Rocker
>2015 Vampire
>2014 Silent Hill Nurse
>2013 Wednesday Addams

>Finances
Right now, you have no source of income. Just a very pliable sister. She basically buys you whatever you ask for although Mark does not approve, he wants you to get a job.

>>2071861
Fantastic Thread QM, I recently caught up and really enjoy the tone you've set. It's refreshing to see a quest that has a realistic protagonist even if we add a bit of supernatural.

I know that a description of Alice was given in the pre-thread, but I'd love a more complete description from you about Alice if that's alright. Is she at all comparable to the image in the OP, other than bust I assume, or do you have a different aesthetic in mind?

>>2071924
Thanks for the praise! I'm sort of blazing my own path and as I've said before, this isn't the sort of thing I usually do games about so it's all new to me.

As for Alice's appearance, it's similar to OP. I'll try write up a full description tommorw when I've got time. Essentials: medium height, thin, pale, long, dark, hair on the oily side. Brown eyes. Her body type leans more toward "pear" with smallish breasts and widish hips.

As for fashion sense, it's evolved over her life but now hangs around what pictured. Alice fantasized about immaculate makeup and hair but rarely tries to pull off such things because of a perceived lack of skill.

She likes weird jeweley, crosses, ankhs, triangles, chokers. She favors combat boots with buckles and straps over heels or flats. Everything is black.

She has pierced earlobes but dreams of more, wishes her sister hasn't let her act on. She has no tatoos, but has a few ideas. Sister won't let her.

OP might be more an idealized version of herself. Maybe her dream, but it's not far from reality.

Describing yourself is . . . hard. You like to think of yourself as an objective person, but what you understand to be true and what others understand to be true are typically two different things when it comes to your physical appearance at any rate.

While you watch the punks and hapless employees of the medical supply store fall victim to the ravenous dead, you find your thoughts turning inward. Seeing Trash and thinking about your slashed plans for your Elvira costume left you feeling pretty down about yourself.

You'd been assured, most recently by your Friend, but previously by Franz, that you were attractive and you had some redeeming features. For instance, you really liked your eyes. They were a deep brown, not the most glamorous of eye colors but you found brown eyes to be calm and contemplative, like a still, deep lake. You felt like yours were like that.

Of course, you'd also heard Franz once say "eyes are what fat girls brag about cause it's all they've got." That said, by no stretch of the imagination were you fat, or even overweight. If anything, you'd prefer to gain a few pounds, might help you with what you felt like were legs that were too skinny and boobs that were too small. Watching Holly 'bounce' past the boys in the gym, turning heads, only served to remind you that you were pretty lacking in that department. You tried to remind yourself that at least you weren't fat, you feel like that would be a coup de grace to your self-esteem, although you weren't really fit either, whenever you were forced to run laps for gym, or do sit-ups or whatever, you found yourself out of breath pretty quickly. No sculpted body for you.

During some of your more . . . intimate moments with Franz, he would complement your body, laying kisses across your stomach. He also had a thing about your butt. Not something you thought about often but he said it was nice. Of course, he probably said the same thing about Sam.

You cast a quick glance at her, Sam's features lit in flashing light from your laptop monitor. Of course, he might not have been wrong.

(1/3)

Holly called you 'lard ass' once, maybe that was a sideways compliment? Maybe she was jealous. A pleasant thought, but not one you want to dwell on, your butt and hips and whatever weren't really interesting to you.

"But I don't care Darlin', because I love you, and you've got to let me EAT YOUR BRAAAIIINS!" the laptop bellowed as the zombies resorted to emotional manipulation to try to get their fix. You play with your hair idly, running your fingers through the same section over and over, a nervous habit of yours. You sighed inwardly. You could feel that unpleasant oiliness that always seemed to shadow you whatever you tried. At a distance it did lend your hair darker, sleeker look which you liked, but altogether you found it off-putting. Maybe you'd ask Sam for advice.

Your hair, normally just left down, ran almost halfway down your back. Sometimes you would pin it back with a skull beret when it was particularly bothersome, other times you just let it hang. You didn't really do much more than that.

Your sister Grace said you had a 'heart-shaped face' which didn't mean much to you, but, while you were (mostly) happy with the size and shape of your lips, you felt that your nose was a tad too big. Franz assured you it was fine, it was cute, and that you were making a big deal over nothing, but you always wished you had a smaller nose.

You didn't normally do much to change anything about your face with makeup. Nothing complex anyway. Eyeliner and eye shadow were about as complex as you got, usually laying it on thick and heavy when you put it on at all. Sometimes you played around with dark shades of lipstick, though you'd never wear something like that to school.

Thinking of the flaws and shortcomings with your face made you dwell briefly on the long list of eventual modifications you wanted to make. Piercings were something you were 'in to' but hadn't had a chance to really try. Nose rings, lip rings, hell, maybe something on your eyebrows, those were still cool right?

Franz said it was trashy, but he had no taste. The same went for tattoos. You'd like something someday, but all of your ideas felt 'cliché' and the last thing you wanted to was to permanently mark yourself with something gaudy. Not to mention Grace would never allow you to do something like that. At least not with her money.

As it stands, aside from some standard earlobe piercings that Grace gave you when you turned twelve, you were unmarked and unpierced.

(2/3)

Jewelry and clothing was where you really tried to shine and, in a way, make up for your shortcomings, perceived or real. Occult jewelry was your favorite, skulls, religious symbols, whatever. You had countless skull rings and some pretty cool necklaces. Things with triangles, ankhs, crosses, pentagrams, stuff Mark rolled his eyes at and your mom used to make you take off on Sunday.

As for clothing, it was a list too long to recount here. If it was black you wore it. If it referenced death, doubly so. You had everything from very formal dresses done up in lace to shredded jeans and miniskirts. You didn't wear a lot of it much, you didn't feel like you could pull it off adequately, and having people staring at you wasn't something you wanted in general. You also have a problem with boots. You love boots. Combat boots, thigh highs, boots with buckles, boots with straps, purple, black, white. Platform soles and some with hobnails. God, so many boots you'd probably never worn them all.

You did have some other shoes. A few heels and flats and things for various occasions, but not anything you'd really want to wear. Franz told you once that you looked good in heels. You'd told yourself you'd wear nice heels when you two got married. But that was a long time ago and you were just a dumb kid.

You come back to the movie in time to see Trash, naked and ashen-skinned. You frown. If there was something of hers you'd kill for it would be her incredible self-confidence.

(3/3)

***

Spooky Girl Continues tomorrow.

Oh hey, you're running today t-
>>2074096
>>2074099
>>2074104
>Spooky Girl Continues tomorrow.
Well, crud.

>>2071836
Ever had a time where you've got a bunch of questions, and when you've got the chance, you immediately forget some or all of them?

Yeah... Here's one or two more.

So we know Alice gets rides to where she needs to go, but does she know how to drive herself?

Cherno Funeral Home likely has a hearse or two under it's name. Has there been any thought to retire one of them, or sell them off, or give one of them to Alice as a 18th birthday gift?

Finally, do you think our friend's ghost magic might help with our looks?

Also, next up on the movies, Braindead.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VYvqOfrs6CA

>>2074187
>Well, crud.
Sorry for the false hope! I AM running tomorrow at 7 EST (11 UTC)


>>2074187
>Ever had a time where you've got a bunch of questions, and when you've got the chance, you immediately forget some or all of them?
Every day, my guy. let's dive in!

>>2074187
>but does she know how to drive herself?
Oh. God. Driving gives you crazy anxiety. Grace tried to teach you but you ended both ended up screaming and swerving onto the shoulder after you nearly veered into the wrong lane. She didn't talk about it and drove you both home. Mark thinks it's silly but honestly, you're scared to try again.

Might have something to do with how your parents died . . .

>>2074187
>Cherno Funeral Home likely has a hearse or two under it's name
One. You call in Lurch. It's an old model that your Grandad bought second hand from a place in Lasker City.

>Present
Well it doesn't see use too often, but it's kinda critical to the business. Maybe if Grace and Mark find the money for a new model you could inherit the old one . . . assuming Mark allows it.

>>2074187
>Finally, do you think our friend's ghost magic might help with our looks?
It's . . . possible. You'd have to ask them, but it seems like they could do just about anything. I hope you don't misunderstand, you're not entirely unhappy with your appearance. You've gotten the impression sometimes that people may even find you attractive but . . . as Patrick Bateman once said:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7PphbSFZWuU

>Braindead
Think you mean Dead/Alive, Boy. Round bouts these parts, that's what we calls it.

Fucking classic. Consider it added.

>>2074187
>as there been any thought to retire one of them, or sell them off, or give one of them to Alice as a 18th birthday gift?
I can see it now, Alice driving around in her pimped out hearse trying to guide the dead to rest. It'll be our Mystery Machine!

As long as we're on the topic of using our spook powers to look pretty, I was wondering if we might ask our Friend some time if there's ways of learning new tricks or improving our flight/incorporeal powers.

I imagine it involves eating souls or something

>>2074513
>learning new tricks or improving our flight/incorporeal powers

Your Friend implied that "payment" would be necessary for improvement like that. Improvement or development certainly seems possible from what they say, but the cost is the question.

Of course, it might be a good way to put Holly's life to positive effect . . .

>>2074636
Literally eating someone's soul just because she's a bitch to us would be leagues beyond unjustifiable.

>>2074771
We could eat Franz

>>2075233
Seconding

>>2075233
>We could eat Franz
lewd
Maybe he could reciprocate that favor first?

So Holly is off limit but not Franz?

File: 1495057298372.gif (3.2 MB, 1000x776)

3.2 MB GIF

>>2075248
No.

Yes

Your introspection is cut short by the explosive finale of Return of the Living Dead. The mushroom cloud of a tactical nuke looms over the city, an ominous green ash cloud rises alongside it, mixing into acid in the atmosphere to rain down on a cemetery prompting the dead to again return.

"That's fucking bleak," Sam says. "After everything they just went through?"

"I like it," you say, "A few bumbling idiots destroyed the world as we know it."

"Unless they find a new way to stop them," Sam says. "The zombies I mean, not the idiots.

You shrug, "Maybe." You were skeptical, the dead seemed to require destruction at a cellular level in that film, not something your average Joe could do.

"It was cool either way," Sam says. "I don't know if I like it more than Dawn of the Dead though. That one was pretty cool. With the Zombie baby?"

You nod, not your favorite, but another good movie. You close the video player on your laptop and Sam leans fractionally away from you to fiddle with her phone in the brief break.


>By the way, are you and Franz still together?
>Do you want to watch another movie?
>Hey, you believe in ghosts?
>Want to do something else?
>Write in

>>2075785
>>Hey, you believe in ghosts?

>>2075785
>Do you want to watch another movie?
>Hey, you believe in ghosts?

>Hey, you believe in ghosts?
>Do you want to watch another movie?

>writing

"Hey, Sam. Do you believe in ghosts?" you ask.

"What, like real ghosts?"

You nod.

Sam leans back into the arm of the couch, facing you, "You know, I've always believed in like, spirits and stuff. When my uncle died it felt like he was with us all, you know? I like to think that people can linger on. That there's more to life than this.

"I totally agree," you say.

{Alice, is that true? Do you really believe in ghosts?}

Your Friend flutter with amusement but you ignore them.

"Ghosts, I think, are just like us but maybe . . . More distant or not as complete. I think some of them are waiting for something.

"Totally. You got any ghost movies?"

Boy, did you ever. "Yes, but I promised 80s cheese so-"

"Oh jeez, what's next?"

A sadistic grin creeps across your face, "Dead Alive."

"Zombie movie?"

You nod.

"Okay, what's it about?"

"One man's struggle against his mother and the undead," you say. As you answer, Sam's phone buzzes in her pocket and she fishes it out of her jeans, reading and replying to an unseen message

"Yeah, sounds cool." Sam doesn't look up from her phone as she types, you wonder a bit if she heard you.

You fight to keep disappointment off your face as you go back to looking for the file, something Sam might have noticed.

"So, Alice, have you ever seen a ghost? If anyone's gone looking for them, I'm sure you have."


>No such luck yet
>I think I might have seen something once, but I'm not sure
>This is going to sound a little crazy . . . (tell her the truth)
>Write in

>>2075846
>>I think I might have seen something once, but I'm not sure

>>2075846
>I think I might have seen something once, but I'm not sure
>Hey, just need to text my sister for a second. We'll start the movie soon.
Type in "Do you think it would be alright to tell her?" for Friend to see.

>I think I might have seen something once, but I'm not sure

+

>write in

>Writing

"I think I might have seen something once. Some weird mist in the cemetery, but I'm not sure," you say, drawing your own phone to pretend to text someone.

>do u think it would be alright to tell her?

You don't hit 'send'.

{No I don't, Alice. This is a secret that should be kept between you and me and people you can trust. Zack could be trustworthy because he'd come to regret it if he talked. Besides which, Sam's track record with loyalty is . . . Suspect.}

You feel like your Friend is being biased, but can't argue.

"Still, that's cool," Sam says. "I've never seen anything I can't explain."

"Hmm," you put your phone away and ready your laptop again. "Ready?"

"Mhmm!"

"It's time for Dead Alive." You hit play.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O8LIug1cP04

X

"Jesus fucking Christ!" Sam cries for probably the tenth time, gagging as Lionel drags the severed, tail of a dog out of his mother's throat, its fur matted with blood and saliva. "That's fucking nasty," she says, after having recovered slightly, instead giving you an accusatory look, "You're sick."

You can only smile back. "People say it's the goriest movie ever made," you reply.

"Samanthaaa!" A fresh voice. Sam's mother calling down the stairs into the basement.

Shit, how loud had you been? How loud was this movie?

Sam scrambles across the couch, ending up practically on top of you as she frantically pauses the movie. "What mom!?" her voice ringing you ear.

There's a tense silence. "How's the studying coming?"

"Uhh," Sam looks at you, "Good."

Another long pause. "I think it's time your friend got going, Sam. You've got chores."

Sam deflates, already giving you an apologetic look. "Okaaaay."

The basement door clicks closed.

"Fuck," Sam sighs.

"I'm sorry," you blurt, "I probably should have turned it down."

"No, it's okay," Sam says, still looking upset, "She was just being nosy probably. We'll have to finish the movie another time, okay?"


>Maybe we can do something tonight? Your mom doesn't have to find out
>Absolutely! I'll text you, okay?
>Sure. Sorry again, Sam
>write in

>>2075933
>Absolutely! I'll text you, okay?
>Bet you never thought that Peter Jackson would have made that, huh?
>Admit it, that was hilarious.

>Absolutely! I'll text you, okay?

+

>Write in

File: Autumn.jpg (107 KB, 540x405)

107 KB JPG

"Bet you never thought Peter Jackson would have made that," you say with another grin.

"Wasn't he the guy who did King Kong?" Sam asks, standing and stretching her legs.

"I was thinking more of Lord of the Rings, but that too," you say. "But admit it, it was hilarious."

Sam cracks a grin, "It was highly unsettling . . . and pretty funny. Remind me not to eat anything when we finish it."

"Deal." you finish shutting down your laptop and slide it into your backpack. "I had fun."

"Me too! We need to hang more. Come eat with us at school on Monday, okay? Don't sit alone."

"Okay," you say, "I will."

"I'll take you out," Sam offers, moving ahead of you and leading you back up the stairs and out her front door. "Are you going to be able to get back home? Do you need my parents to give you a ride or something?"

"No," you say, "I'll be okay. Thanks, Sam."

"Thanks for the Spanish help and the weird movies," Sam says. "Bye!"

"Bye."

She closes the door and you feel the chill of an autumn evening sweep past you.

{That was fun. I'm excited for Monday, Alice.}

"Me too." You walk the short footpath back to the street. Hmm, well this was an unexpected dilemma. You'd gotten a ride here and hadn't expected to be thrown out so suddenly. It meant there was no Mark to pick you up. It wasn't a long walk home, flight would be tough since it wasn't quite dark yet, but you know Mark would be upset if you walked home.


>Call Mark and ask for a ride home
>I can just walk, it's not far

>>2075994
>Call Mark and ask for a ride home
Might as well go prove that Sam actually exists.

>>2075994
>Call Mark and ask for a ride home
See if we can practice our power until he arrives, like selectively phasing parts of our body through the floor etc

>>2075994
>Call Mark and ask for a ride home

>Call Mark and ask for a ride home

+

>Write in

>Writing

Mark was surprisingly unargumentative on the phone.

"Yeah, I'm on my way. Stay put."

So as not to be awkwardly standing in Sam's yard, you paced the neighborhood, when you past mail boxes, you'd practice selectively phasing your fingers through them, or hand, or arm. You wanted to try to snatch mail from the inside, but you quickly discover if any part of you is "phased" you can't interact with things, your hands just pass through their contents. Too bad.

{You]re improving, Alice. I'd expected you'd make more use of this, but I supposed a perfectly ordinary high school girl doesn't have much use for powers like that.}

You're not sure if your Friend is being weird or trying to tease you so you ignore them.

"Any chance I can get more powers?" you ask.

{Oh, of course you can. It just means you'd need to give me what I need to give them to you, Alice.}

You make a face, "You mean people's souls."

{Yes, that's right. It's very difficult to create something from nothing, Alice. I find your reluctance to consume people amusing, but I have to say that you are a very strong-willed woman, Alice. Many others have given in to lesser temptation than you.}

"It's not very tempting when the price is people's lives," you say sourly.

{Lives? No, not quite. More of their essence. Some of my companions have used this ability to their advantage, turning their biggest enemies into allies.}

You think of Holly. "What do you mean?"

{A person deprived of their soul is a hollow vessel, Alice. They're . . . Pliant to people like you. For instance, if you were to divest Chad of his soul, you might find him a more . . . willing companion.}

Your Friend's carnal meaning is hard to miss. "Ew," you say though inwardly you're a bit intrigued by the idea. "But like, what would someone be like if I did that to them? Like if I consumed Franz for being a fuckboi, would he change?"

{Oh yes. His friends would find him dull and distant. His family would find him boring. He could, if you chose, be kept around. Death is not the only possibility when loses their soul.}

"Hmm." You swipe your fingers through a black painted mailbox, feeling only a cold breeze. "You're kind of dirty, you know?"

Your friend flutters laughter.

{I've told you before, Alice. I'm a hedonist. If it feels good, you should do it.}

You think of all of the risks of such a life style. Injury, disease, addiction. "Kind of an unsafe way to live."

{Immortality has its advantages.}

(1/2)

File: Roselake Autumn.jpg (21 KB, 446x334)

21 KB JPG

"So what if I piss you off," you say, "I do something you really hate and you decide to just up and eat me. How do I know you haven't already done that?"

{Impossible. When I say you're special, Alice, those aren't empty words. I was drawn to you for a reason. You're . . . Bright. Powerful. In fact, I can only stay with you because you allowed it. We formed a pact, but, if I must confess, this is a pact you have the power to break with little consequence. You can quite easily force me out.}

You're a bit surprised by this news, "I wouldn't do that to you."

{No, because we're friends. Aren't we, Alice?}

You stop and look up at the amber sky, smiling. "We are." You hesitate a moment. "So, could you change the way I look? I mean if I wanted you to."

{You want to hide your appearance?}

"I want to look different. Like, permanently."

{What, make your breasts bigger?}

Your Friend's tone is mocking.

{Alice, I don't think you have anything you should want to change.}

"Well what do you know? You're like an immortal ghost voice."

Your Friend rolls with laughter.

{A fair point. Is this what was bothering you during the movie, Alice?}

You don't say anything.

{I could-}

Your Friend stops.

{I can see. It may be possible but . . . I think it's a bad idea. Such a change would surely be noticeable by those around you. Facial features don't change dramatically and you're a bit old for a sudden growth spurt. If you have your heart set on it though. Alice . . . I'm sure I could do something.}


>I want a prettier face
>I want a nicer body
>No, forget it
>Write in

>>2076080
>Write in

I would like to know what the costs might be before making a decision.

>>2076080
>I want a nicer body
>We could sit on this for a bit, though. Maybe after New Years?
>I don't want to rush too much on it.
Add >>2076144 in, too.

>>2076144

"I want to know what all that's gonna cost before I make any decisions," you say, arms crossed.

{Is that what you think of me, Alice? I'm some sort of ethereal arms merchant? We're supposed to be friends. I'm simply trying to help you out.}

You Friend feels genuinely hurt that you expected to have to pay. Of course, in the deep recesses of your mind you also sense that characteristic amusement. If your Friend's feelings were really hurt you feel like they would protest more. No, they seem genuinely upset, but not seriously so.

"Okay, geez sorry."

***
Voting can continue, this is informational.

>>2076080
>>I want a nicer body

"Just a little..."

>>2076080
>I want a nicer body
When we start our reign of terror we need to look nice doing it

>I want a nicer body


>Writing

You bite your lip, thinking hard. "Could I . . . Have a nice body maybe. I mean, just a little bit nicer."

{I'll see what I can do, Alice.}

You can feel the disappointment in your Friends words. Well, they could deal with it. You intended to win the looks jackpot if you could. You wanted to say more but were interrupted by the sound of a car approaching. Mark. You meant to walk back to Sam's house before he got here, you hope he's not-

You turn around and see the sedan approaching. It's not Mark. It's slowing down, approaching you. You can see the driver's eyes flashing reflected light at you. Mirrored sunglasses.

You feel frozen by surprise. It's that creep. The one who'd been watching you.

The car slows down, obviously stopping with you in mind. The driver, who you can now see has two passengers in the back seat, rolls to a stop on the other side of the quiet suburban street, parked on the shoulder, engine idling. The driver rolls the window down, those blank, mirrored lenses reflecting you where you stand. A cigarette hangs from his lip. His hair is tousled and greasy, matching his rumpled, deep blue suit.

The two passengers in the back also watch you, faces blank, not menacing or obscene, almost mildly interested. This is stark contrast to the driver's smirk.

He lifts a hand in greeting at you. Fairly common in a small town like Roselake, only you don't know him. You wave back out of instinct, though you don't mirror his smile.

He makes a subtle gesture, curling his arm form his elbow up to a pair of fingers, beckoning you over.

>Go over
>Stay here
>Leave

>>2076213
>Stay here

>>2076213
>Stay here

>Stay here

>Writing

You don't move a muscle.

For a long moment, the only sound is the rough idle of the car and then even that stops, the creep turns it off.

"Hey," he says. "Alice. Why you scared? I'm not gonna hurt you. I want to talk."

"Y-you can do that from there," you stammer. "Who are you?"

He ignores your question, "I been watching you, ya know? I know you've seen me. I know where you get off to and what you do. I do it to keep you safe." He smiles, "Betcha didn't know that. That's right, I keep you safe from the people who want to use you. It's not all philanthropy, you know?"

You don't reply, feeling your heart hammering in your chest.

{Alice, leave. Don't listen to him.}

"I'll tell you what though. I don't know about you two, but I'm looking forward to Halloween. Have you gotten ready? Are you ready, huh? I sure am."

{Alice. Leave. Now.}

Your muscle's won't obey your body's commands to flee. "Who are you?" you repeat, more forcibly.

"Nobody," he says, drawing in a lungful of smoke and blowing it out through his nostrils, "I'm nobody. I'm just here to remind you that you've got other options."

{Alice}

The sound of an engine startles you to life, you look to see Mark's Bronco coasting toward you.

The Creep starts his car. "See you around, Alice." Window going up, pulling back onto the road. You see the car has no plates.

You exhale, not realizing you'd been holding your breath. "Who . . . Who was that?"

Your Friend doesn't answer.

Mark pulls up beside you and you don't hesitate before climbing in, slamming the door behind you harder than you meant to.

"Who was that you were talking to?" Mark asks, his voice edged with suspicion.


>Some creep trying to give me a ride
>I don't know
>Just a friend saying 'hi'
>Write in

>>2076297
>I don't know.
>I don't think I'd ever want to know.

>>2076297
>I don't know

Some creep wearing a pair of sunglasses

>I don't know

+

>Write ins

>Writing

File: Mark'sBronco.jpg (62 KB, 736x552)

62 KB JPG

"I don't know," you say, feeling your hands shaking. Unused adrenaline flooding your system. "I don't think I'd ever want to know."

"What?" Mark asks, giving you a confused look. "Was that guy bothering you?"

"I don't know, okay?" you blurt, "It was some creep wearing a pair of sunglasses. I don't know."

"Jesus, Alice." You don't know if Mark is complaining about you, or about the situation. "And you've never seen him before?"

{Don't tell Mark, Alice.}

"No," you lie. "He just came up to me."

"What did he want? Did he ask you to get in?" Mark's voice is rising, his brow furrowed in concern.

"He didn't ask me anything," you say. "He was just being weird. I don’t know."

Mark shuts up, but you do notice he accelerates, slightly. Knuckles kneading the leather of the wheel. "When we get home, I'm calling the police."

"Don't," you say, the voice not your own, your Friend speaking for you. "Please don't. I'm fine, I don't want to make a big deal about this."

{Please trust me, Alice. This is for your protection.}

Mark occasionally throws you a look, but gives no more argument.

Before long you arrive home and you're first out of the car.

"Alice-!" Mark calls after you but you don't give him a chance and walk straight for the door.

"Hey, Alice!" Grace says, her cheerful smile vanishing when she sees your expression, "Are you okay? Did Mark say something?"

"I'm fine," you lie. "I'm just tired. Bye!"

You pass her quickly and head upstairs to your room, closing and locking your door behind you.

{Alice, you do trust me, don’t you? I wouldn't want to hurt you, Alice and I know all this must be very confusing and overwhelming to you.}


>I trust you
>I don't know if I trust you
>I don't want to worry about all this right now. I've got other things on my mind, okay?
>Write in

>>2076357
>I trust you
>but I want to know what he meant, trust is a two way street, so let me in on this secret

>I trust you
>but I want to know what he meant, trust is a two way street, so let me in on this secret

>writing

You sit on your bed and take a few deep breaths, steadying yourself. "I trust you," you say. "But I want to know what he meant. Trust is a two-way street. So let me in on this secret."

{I-}

It was unlike your Friend to be at a loss of words.

{I would like to, Alice. I really would. But I can't. I can tell you that man is dangerous. Not by himself really . . . It's complicated and I shouldn't be explaining this to you.}

"You have to," you protest, "What's going on? What did he mean about being ready for Halloween and options?"

{You don't have to worry about Halloween, Alice. You don't have to worry about anything. Friends take care of one another and I will take care of you. And you always have options.}

"Friends also don't keep secrets from one another."

{I really can't tell you, Alice. I'm sorry. This wasn't supposed to happen. I- . . . can't say any more about it. You shouldn't worry. I'm sorry.}
>That's not good enough
>Fine. I'll trust you. For now.
>Write in

>>2076428
>>Fine. I'll trust you. For now.

>Fine. I'll trust you. For now.

>Writing

File: ACC5.jpg (71 KB, 540x594)

71 KB JPG

"Fine," you say with a heavy sigh, "I'll trust you for now."

{Thank you, Alice. I promise to make this up to you.}

There is a long internal silence, and you can feel your Friend "shifting" and movie. Thinking.

{I can tell you this, Alice. I came to you because you are special. I'm not the only one who can feel this. There are others who know this. That man- that Creep is one of them. In fact, Alice, I've come in part to protect you. You don't need to worry because I'll take care of everything.}

"Okay," you say, trying to absorb this flood of information. "I mean, I guess that makes sense."

{You were supposed to learn these things more naturally and over time. I know this is a lot to take in, Alice.}

"That's an understatement," You say, feeling powerless.

{Please don't worry about it. We don't want to see you upset. I want to see you happy. You have so much left to do. You have friends to make, you need to meet with Zack tomorrow, you've got to find Cliff for Ellie. People are counting on you, Alice.}

It was strange for your Friend to use Ellie as a positive reference, you suspected it was an attempt to cheer you up.

{You should get some sleep, Alice. You'll need it. You feel bad now, but you will feel much, much better tomorrow. I'll have some surprises for you then.}

"Surprises?" you ask.

{Surprises, Alice, can't be discussed ahead of time. I suggest you think of a way to enjoy yourself, perhaps we could make it happen.}

You snort, knowing that your Friend's idea of enjoyment seems a fair bit more debauched than your own.

"Alright, fine." You were feeling tired after all. For a brief moment, you feel a flash of fear at the thought of sleeping with that Creep on the loose. "You don't sleep, right?"

{No.}

"Can you. . . "

{I'll keep watch for you, Alice. Good night.}

You pull off your shirt and pants, not taking the time to put on pajamas. "Good night."

You lay your head down and close your eyes and are soon asleep though your dreams are full of turmoil and violence.

X

That's all the time I have tonight, guys! Thanks for playing, as always I had a good time. I know this session was sort of strange so hopefully yall are still on board.

Unfortunately I can't run a game this weekend due to time constraints and I will likely be launching my other quest next week so I'm not sure when the next session will be. This might translate into a short break for Spooky Girl (A week max). I'll keep my status updated on Twitter.

As always, floor is open to Q&A and complaints/suggestions/requests. This game is pretty open right now so it can be tough for me to anticipate player wishes for mid-long term goals. If anyone has anything like that, just let me know here and I'll try to work it in.

>https://twitter.com/TimeKillerQM

Additionally, I couldn't help but wonder if this games original creator, Spooky QM knows what's become of his creation. I wonder if he approves or silently shakes his head at seeing his idea hijacked.

Later guys!

>>2076505
Thanks for running, even in these slow days

>>2076505
Thank you for running, loving reading this! Sucks that my schedule doesn't work out for participating though.

>>2076523
My pleasure, thanks for playing!

>slow days
It is what it is. Spooky Girl will never been a run away hit or anything, and that's okay cause I like it and have a few dedicated players who like it and that's all I need.

>>2076525
Happy to do it!

Sorry about the schedule, anon. Not sure if you have any, but putting forward suggestions/plans/whatever here after the main session can still influence game play later on. I try to shape Alice's actions around what players are thinking/feeling for instance.

>>2076529
I still don't like Franz
That's all

>>2076505
Good to be playing with you again, boss.

>player wishes for mid-long term goals.

Well, I'd kind of like this quest to be focused on figuring out who or what our friend is, and helping ghosts and whatnot pass on to the other side, with a good helping of high school slice of life. So far, I'm pretty satisfied with what's going on.

So, further questions.

Alice has been spooky for most of her high school career, but was she that way when she was younger?

What kind of job does Alice want to have after college? Actually, speaking of college, how do her grades look?

Has the Cherno family ever had a pet?

The Cherno family seems to go back many a generation. Are there any other family members that we'll get to meet?

>>2076526
>Spooky Girl will never been a run away hit or anything, and that's okay cause I like it and have a few dedicated players who like it and that's all I need.

Oh, man, I'm so glad you feel this way about it, boss. I'm sick of seeing interesting quests with small player bases just die out due to QM disappointment. It always gets me in a funk, wondering where exactly they were going to go, what the plans for the story were...

>>2076539
That's why I'm typically picky in what I follow, I hate that shit

>>2076533
>I still don't like Franz
Don't like him as in "Call him frank"? or don't like him as in drain his soul and keep him as a slave


>>2076539
>Good to be playing with you again, boss.
Likewise!

>So far, I'm pretty satisfied with what's going on.
Wonderful!

>Baby Alice
You've always been a little strange. You drew skulls as a little kid and used to dream about marrying a vampire. But you always tried to "pass" or fit in. It wasn't until middle school when you were about 12 or 13 that you started giving in to Your spooky side. This is also around the time your self-esteem fell out on you. That's not a cause, just a coincidence. It's also around the time you lost all the people you thought were friends.

>Job
Oh geez. You get kind of anxious thinking about that stuff. Mark says he's got a cashier job at a convince store lined up for you to earn some petty cash but you get nervous imagining dealing with customers. Dead bodies are pretty cool, you've given serious though to becoming a mortician or coroner. Mark works in the medical field and Grace in funeral services so between the two you've got some solid connections!

>Grades
Impeccable.

Without a social life you've thrown yourself at your work, In fact, really the only times you've slacked have been recently with your sudden social explosion over the weekend. It's looking like you may just forfeit Mr. Cook's homework assignment . . .

>pets

Pets don't do well in the Cherna household. You had a fish as a kid and you let it die on accident, overfeeding or underfeeding, you can't remember. But you didn’t tell anyone and kept it around as a science experiment while it decomposed. Your mother was not happy when she found out.

You had a cat "Buttons" for a few years in middle school, but Buttons wandered off one day and never came back. Poor Buttons :(

>Cherna Family

Came to America from Yugoslavia early in the Second World War, driven out ahead of the German invasion. The first people in American in your family were your great grandparents. Your Grandparents are retired outside Edenvale, otherwise you have a pretty small family and those relatives you have outside of the area don't tend to visit. Roselake has that effect on people.


Yeah man, I really don't need a big player base. Honestly a small but very interactive player base > a big silent player base. You guys are great :D

>>2076578
Call him frank.
But if we do need a soul he's my first suggestion

Maybe she should just be a gravedigger, helping ghosts move on from this world

>>2076616
Or maybe an embalmer

I wish this quest wasn’t running when I’m asleep that said I recommend we ask our friend what he can’t tell us about so we can anticipate these problems and look for work arounds.
Also next time he asks what we want to do today the answer is Same thing we do every day Pinky...

>>2084476
>I wish this quest wasn’t running when I’m asleep
Sorry bud! Wish I could help with that.

>ask our friend what he can’t tell us about so we can anticipate these problems and look for work arounds

Clarification: do you want to know the secrets he's keeping from you, or do you want to know what things it is he can't talk about? Sounds like the latter.

>Spoiler
World domination? That'd be a new goal for Alice lol

>>2084966
The latter, if we know the rules we can try and work round them.
[spoile]they’re Alice and her friend, yes Alice and her friend, either he’s Incorporeal or she’s going round the bend.

File: RedEye.jpg (172 KB, 750x744)

172 KB JPG

Quest is tomorrow.

But a question in case anyone lurks here.

How long do you prefer I wait before closing a vote?

>5-10 Minutes
>10-20 minutes
>20-30 Minutes
>30+ Minutes
>Write in

>>2087035
>20-30 Minutes

>>2087035
I'd go with five to ten minutes, but then again, I'm usually here on Tuesday and Thursday for these.

>though your dreams are full of turmoil and violence.

Why do I get the feeling that they're going to be boob related?

>>2087242
>Boob-related violence
I'm literally overwhelmed by the sheer volume of things I can write about this

>>2087405
Allow me to save you some time: https://youtu.be/PaNOlVys9SI

File: Spoiler Image (670 KB, 360x222)

670 KB GIF

>>2087242
>>2087405
Might as well go with the trope namer for this...

File: StopItGetSomeHelp.gif (916 KB, 480x358)

916 KB GIF

>>2087593
>>2087655
This is not what I had in mind.

>>2087692
Should I have gone with Woody Allen being chased across a field by a giant boob?

I'm not sure I should, considering current events...

File: Spoiler Image (11 KB, 227x225)

11 KB JPG

>>2087743
I would have accepted a good, old fashioned
>pic related

Let's also remember that this is a wholesome quest with nothing impure about it whatsoever.

>>2087655
Negima! Good taste.

>>2087756
>Let's also remember that this is a wholesome quest with nothing impure about it whatsoever.

It's cute that you think that. Kidding... mostly.

>>2087785
>It's cute that you think that
You were right the first time.

So I got a 5-10 min vote and a 20-30 min vote. Aight, I dig.

File: cirque-du-freak-the-vampi(...).jpg (28 KB, 480x270)

28 KB JPG

Damn, I keep missing this quest when it's running. I swear I have a tab open with your Twitter, but I still seem to miss it.
In any case, I still enjoy very much to read through previous posts.

>>2087795
Eh, I'd say you wing it depending on the number of players
5-10 if only a few, and 20-30 if it is a particularly active day

>About Franz
Or was it Frank? Anyway, I think she should get some closure and talk with him. Worst case scenario he is a jerk, best case they bury the hatchet and move on.
Alice should try talking to more people in general. That way we get to meet new cool people, and complete douchebags that she won't feel any remorse for taking their souls. Textbook case of a Win-Win.

>Mark
He's alright. He just cares way more than needed. But, considering his line of work, it makes sense he would be acquainted with how shitty things can get. At least Grace gets to know dead people when the pain is all over, he doesn't get such luxury.

>Our Mutual Friend
I like how the more he lets his guard down, the more we get to know about him. Too bad pic related showed up and made him clam up

>Alice doesn't enjoy driving
Can relate. Driving stresses me too much.

I am enjoying it so far. I'll try to be around for next session.
TRY

>>2089010
Suggestions and ideas noted! Thanks for the player insight!

Just an FYI, game starts in just about 11 hours. Feel free to set an alarm

File: WarWithoutEnd.jpg (217 KB, 780x481)

217 KB JPG

The clatter and din of battle was not nearly as close to you as it was. You lay on your back, nostrils full of the smell of wood smoke and gunpowder. Distantly you heard the roar of men fighting for their lives punctuated by the crash of metal, rattle of muskets, and scream of horses.

Your legs were frozen, icy pain radiating up to your hips from somewhere just above your knees, below that you felt nothing. Your back was pressed into the muddy, black earth, water seeping into your clothes the least of your problems.

As you struggle to rise to your feet, hands sinking into the soupy ground, you see the cause of your pain and your inability to stand. A dead, black horse lays across your legs, ribs pressing into your shins, thick, red blood running down its flank and dripping onto you, hot and thick.

As you try to free yourself, you feel increasingly disoriented, hands uselessly pushing into the sweaty, dead animal. Fluttering above you is a tattered flag you don't recognize, a yellow banner with a black, two-headed bird.

"Help." Your voice is horse and weak and not your own. "Help! Please hel-"

Your eyes snap open and you feel the rush of sensations return to you. The soft warmth of your blankets wrapped around you, the delicate rustle against your bare skin. You sigh. It was Sunday, October 8th, 2017 and you were in your bed at home.

You roll to lay on your back, remembering now you didn't take the time to put on your pajamas last night. You take a moment to savor the carefree morning, laying your hand on your stomach, feeling the smoothness of your skin and the subtle muscle definition beneath it.

You stop, eyes snapping open again.

Throwing back the covers, you ignore the cold air that washes across you and instead cross the room to your closed bedroom door. You're faced with a reflection of yourself, hair cascading down over your bare shoulders and your dark eyes peering back at you. You're still in your underwear, but your eyes aren't on that, they're fixed squarely on your stomach.

You almost can't believe it. Like you said before, you've never been anything close to fat, but your stomach isn't just flat, it's toned, the delicate contour of ab muscles barely visible. You turn side to side, marveling at this new development when you catch sight of your chest.

"Whoa."

While your breasts weren't dramatically larger, they seemed fuller somehow. You reach behind your back and unclasp your bra after a brief struggle, letting it fall to the floor and suppress a shiver brought on by the cold. Whoa indeed.

Fuller, perkier, much more close to your idea of perfection than you'd had before. It might take a bit of padding magic, but Elvira looked more in reach than she was yesterday. Even your legs and butt looked more developed, tighter, fuller. You weren't a living Barbie doll, no, this body was still unmistakable yours, but the minor imperfections and flaws that had nagged at you and eroded your self-confidence were gone, blown away. You couldn't help but marvel at your half-naked body, wondering when it was exactly that you'd wake up from this.

File: Skeleypus.jpg (11 KB, 296x300)

11 KB JPG

{This isn't my only gift to you, Alice.}

You squeak in alarm, pressing your arms to yourself to cover your chest.

"Get out!" you cry.

{Alice, I-}

"Out, out, out!"

With no further argument, that ethereal lightness leaves you, replaced by a very earthly, ordinary heaviness, your powers ebbing away, but your physical beauty remains.

On your bed, your Skellypus plushie begins to rotate in place awkwardly, trying to turn to face you.

{Alice, if-}

It's hit square on by a thrown blanket, covering it completely.

"Don't look!" you insist.

{Alice, I'm not interested-}

"It makes me uncomfortable," you say, following it up with, "Please?"

{Alright. I'll wait for you, Alice.}

Satisfied your Friend was 'contained' you turned back to your reflection, lowering your arm. It was unmistakably you, but it was also different. The number of people on this planet familiar with your naked body was extremely limited, but you doubted any of them could pick you out in a lineup now. This was exactly what you wanted.

"What did you do?" you ask.

{I did what you asked, Alice. Such things aren't beyond my ability.}

"Th-thank you," you say, "I can't believe this."

{I have one more surprise for you, Alice. A gift. A new power}

"A new power?" you ask, still reeling from this magic plastic surgery.

{Yes. I figured you might like to have more.}

You feel the ideas of what could be appear in your mind. A catalog of powers, unspoken between you and your friend.


New Level 1 skills

>Mind read
The contents of a mortal mind are no longer a mystery to you. You may consciously choose to read a mind like you would read a newspaper headline.

>Object manipulation
Your hands aren't the only way to interact with objects. Small, minor spirits can be coaxed to manipulate the world around you in simple ways. Levitating a table is no longer just a parlor trick.

Level 2 "Shadow Walk" skills

>Blink teleport
Teleport short distances. You're limited to locations you've already been before, and locations within a small radius, no more than 100 yards. You can't teleport to a family vacation spot, but can teleport into your next door neighbor's house if you've been there before . . .

>Invisibility
Turn invisible for a few minutes at a time, can be combined with your ability to phase through solid matter at will to move like a ghost

>>2089832
Hey, welcome back! How's life treating you?

So, do we choose one power from the level one skills, or can we choose either level skill list?

>>2089839
Choose one!

The first two are unrelated to your current abilities, the second two are building off of that.

>welcome back! How's life treating you?
Thanks! Life's good man, getting over a killer headache, but it is what it is.

>>2089846
Choose one from all four I mean.

>>2089832
>Object manipulation

Gonna have the greatest time playing pranks on Holly with this one...

>>2089832
Haha, i made it in time!
The pain is worth it!

I vote for Blink Teleportation
I imagine Mind Read can be countered by more powerful individuals.
Object Manipulation is too mundane and reliant on spirits that can be disabled
I imagine there is more than one way to detect an invisible person.
So, I think Blink is the safest option

It would be useful to be able to communicate with our friend whom I will be trying to get us to name Pinky without speech but as that isn’t an option and I’ll need to go to sleep soon and won’t have to live with the outcome of this vote I won’t be voting.

>>2089832
>Invisibility
seems pretty useful

My thoughts on the powers are that blink isn’t giving us much we couldn’t do with our flight and invisibility and that mind reading would be more useful than object manipulation but this is not intended as a vote.

>Object manipulation
>>2089874

>Blink Teleportation
>>2089895

>Invisibility
>>2089916

and a non vote for mind reading

>>2089941
If you need a tie breaker put me down for backing Invisibility.

>>2089947
That's exactly what I needed.

>Invisibility

>writing

>>2089941
Mind reading.

You already wish you could just disappear at times, the actual ability to do that would be even better. Before you can tell your Friend, you feel the change come over you, like being dipped down into an ice water bath. You watch as you fade away to nothingness within a second.

"Whoa!" you take a startled step backward. Now you were really ghostly. With slight concentration you turn back. "That's incredible!"

{I think you'll find it useful. Think of it as a gift.}

"I will," you say, "I do. Thank you."

{My pleasure, Alice.}

You quickly put your bra back on, which you notice feels a bit tight. You suppose that everything has a price. That's going to be an awkward conversation with your sister, asking her to buy you new bras. A problem for another day, you put it out of mind and start getting dressed. Knowing you're going to be traveling, you opt for simplicity. Black jeans a band shirt and worn-in boots. Maybe you could add a choker or something to-

Your phone buzzes and you glance over. It's on your desk beside an errant kitchen knife which gives you pause. A kitchen knife?

Did you leave that there?

You look at the knife as you pick up your phone. It's wet. Water.

"Did you do this?" you ask your Friend.

{I think that was already there.}

"Think?" You ask, "or know?"

Your Friend doesn't answer.

You let this slide for now and read the message from Zack.

>Hey Alice! I'm stoked for today, when can I pick you up?

You glance at the time, just past 9 am, hit 'reply' and get ready to craft your message.


>ASAP
>Noon
>Afternoon

>>2089971
>Noon
Unless he is willing to buy her breakfast

>>2089971
>>Noon
>"I should try to get started on that history homework before it's too late."
>If we complete it early, we can start working on our costume for Halloween! Talk about motivation!

>>2089979
This.

>Noon

+

>Write ins

>Been writing

You quickly type a reply.

>You want to buy me breakfast?

His reply comes within seconds.

>Sure if you want :)

>Lol. Come at noon, I have to do some homework and work on things.

>Can do. Cya at noon!

You put your phone down. Right, you had to get a little bit of work done. Mr. Cook's assignment wasn't going to do itself. You busied yourself in some stupid worksheet about Federalism, sailing through and on the write-in portion you made sure to suck up a bit by wedging in some gruesome facts you'd found on the internet about traitors hung during the Revolution. Mr. Cook went crazy for that stuff.

You're done within 45 minutes. "Any reason you don't help me cheat on my homework?" you ask.

{I don't know enough about American government or warfare, Alice. It's not my specialty.}

"Right, you seem a more Continental type," you tease.

{I wouldn't disagree with you.}

You open your small crawlspace door and sort through a few boxes of fabric, cold from having been in the attic. Black obviously, but you were looking for something with a soft feel, something that would move with you. Something that spoke of beauty and elegance.

It doesn't take you long to find the perfect fabric which you begin laying out in preparation to cut the patter you're going to use. You hum as you work, pins in place, scissors gliding. You do keep an eye on the time though, being Morticia on Halloween was important to you, but less important that being ready to hang out with Zack today. At about eleven you stop working on your costume and instead start gathering your belongings.

You tuck small can of mace you "borrowed" from Grace's purse into a pocket on your backpack beside some other basic items. Better safe than sorry right? Although if Zack did try something and you found yourself stuck in Lasker City, this mace would only get you so far.

"So I have a 'pact' with Zack?"

{Yes, Alice. We have a pact with him.}

"And I can basically make him do whatever I want?"

{Three 'favors'. That is, three requests he cannot refuse provided they are within the realm of possibility.}

You nod, remembering the lesson your friend had given you before. "Okay, so how do I use them exactly?"

{You'll feel it. You cannot accidentally use one. I can interpret when you are giving an order versus an innocent question. In short, be clear with your intention, to me, and I can do the rest.}

(1/2)

"What do you mean?"

{Don't speak as you would. Speak through me.}

"Ah." You had felt times in the past where you had words from your Friend in the back of your mind, ready to be used. Words that soothed, or stung, or bit, or burned. You'd given thought to testing a 'command' on Zack just to get the feel for it, but weren't sure yet if you'd go that route.

"So, what is it that you can't talk about? Specifically I mean," you say.

{The future. My origins, my . . .}

Your friend stops, evidently at loss for a word.

{To put this another way, Alice. Your life is part of, maybe even in the center of, a nexus of events and happenstance. A vast web of occurrences and plans. It is this lattice I can't talk about with you. To give you a simple answer, I do what I do for you because I like you. You're my Friend, Alice. I'm here to help you, to take care of you, to . . . show you kindness. There is a more complicated answer that will reveal itself in time. Some things won't make sense to you, Alice. Some things will be kept from you. I ask that you respect this. The answers may be too . . . intense for you. I apologize if I'm vague, but recognize that I'm not given a choice in this matter.}

"It's okay," you say, "I don't understand, but I trust you."

{Truth be told, Alice, you already know more than you're really supposed to at this stage. You were meant to be kept away from this. There's concern it may affect your decision later.}

"Decision?" you ask, greeted only by silence. "Right. Said too much."

{I'm sorry, Alice.}

"You say it enough that I believe it." You want to ask your Friend what it is that makes you so important, or special, or whatever, but you know it won't get you anywhere. At least not on now, your Friend is on guard.

You had only a little bit of time left now before Zack was set to arrive. You felt a rumbling in your stomach, you hadn't noticed it before now because you were so pre-occupied in your work. You were sure you could get something to eat, of course you also wanted to call Franz and ask for a ride to Lasker City tomorrow after school to meet Cliff. You wouldn't have time to do both, though you could always grab food on the way out or ask Franz when you had breakfast with him and Sam tomorrow.

>Ask Franz to drive you to Lasker City tomorrow
>Get something to eat
>I'll spend every available minute on my costume!
>Write in

>>2090054
>>I'll spend every available minute on my costume!
>"By the way, should I be careful of what I eat now? I know I should have taken better care of my body before, but I feel like I should really try to maintain it better now."

>>2090054
Grab something to chew on while working on the costume. Something that doesn't stain, and isn't too greasy.
Maybe an apple?

>>2090080
Boobfat will disappear if she doesn't eat properly. Besides, she wasn't fat, just out of shape.

>>2090085
>Besides, she wasn't fat, just out of shape.
This.

>Spend time working on costume

+

>Healthy snack!

>writing

"So, should I eat differently now? I mean, I don't want to lose all this," you gesture at your own body as if it needs explaining.

Your friend seems amused.

{Your body is a fleeting thing, Alice. I find your fixation on it entertaining. I would recommend you eat as you have. I'll help you as I can.}

"Cool." you put your things aside and head down for an apple.

On your way back up, Grace enters from the funeral parlor portion of your home, she isn't smiling, she looks concerned. "Hey, Alice," she glances at your bust, apparently dismissing whatever she saw. "Mark said some guy was harassing you at your friend's house?"

Oh. "Some creep parked his car and tried to talk to me. Mark scared him off when he showed up." You try to head back upstairs.

Grace moves to block you again, "Alice, you should be careful walking around outside by yourself like that, especially with . . . Weirdos out there." You can tell she almost said 'perverts' but changed her mind. "It's dangerous. You don't know what could happen."

You try not to roll your eyes, "I know, Mark told me all this."

Grace crosses her arms, eyes narrowing. Uh-oh. "Mom mode".

"Well Mark said he's going to keep a closer eye out on the neighborhood and he filed a report with the police."

You feel your Friend 'tense' in your mind, suddenly uneasy.

"That's . . . I don't think he needs to do that, it was just some weird guy."

"Well, you may not think it's a big deal, but I certainly do." She sighs, "I want to make sure you're being safe, Alice."

You nod. "I'm going to another friend's house again today. He's picking me up soon. I got your mace so I'll be okay."

"My ma-" Grace stops, "A friend?"

You can tell the word "He" stuck in her mind.

"Yes. A friend. His name is Zack and he lives in Lasker."

"Lasker!? That's so far."

"I'll be okay," you say.

Grace obviously wants to argue, but says nothing else. "Okay . . . "

"Bye."

You head upstairs.

"Nervous about the police?" you ask.

{No.}

You sense your Friend doesn't want to discuss it so you leave it alone and busy yourself with your costume.

(1/2)

It isn't long before you hear two quick beeps from out front. Zack's here. You're infinitely glad Mark is on call so he can't give you dirty looks for Zack's behavior, or worse, say something to Zack.

The door to your house closes behind you and you cross your yard quickly to the idling, white, Honda. A mid 2000s model that's an obvious hand-me-down vehicle. As you near it, you first feel, and then hear grinding, thudding industrial rock music emanating from the idling car. Zack leans across the center console and pops the passenger door open, shoving it open for you.

You're about to get in but you're stopped by the small collection of Mountain Dew bottles on the floor and the black, pentagram-marked jacket he'd worn in the cemetery, laying on the seat.

"Oh, hang on," Zack leans grabs the jacket and tosses it in the back, followed by a handful of bottles. "Sorry about that." You glance at the jacket's landing place and are surprised to see a shining pile of tiny rings. It takes you a second to recognize it as something, presumably an article of clothing, made of chain mail. You're equally surprised to see a sword laying on the floor in the back.

You carefully climb in, placing your backpack on the floor board between your feet. "No problem."

Before he puts the car in gear, he spends a second looking at you, eyes wandering your body. You look . . . " Zack drinks you in. "Great." When he finally brings his eyes back to yours, he's grinning like a school boy.


>Mother didn't teach you it's rude to stare at girls?
>Thanks
>Y-You too
>Write in

>>2090151
>"A little too soon to be eyeing me like that, Zack, but thanks."
>"So, what's with the chainmail. I didn't hear anything about the Ren Faire."
>(checks sword to see if it's for LARPing)

>>2090151
>Thanks
>So is that a sword in the back or are you just pleased to see me?

>Thanks

+

>Write ins

>Writing

You give Zack a nonplussed look. "A little too soon to be eyeing me like that," you say wryly, "but thanks."

Zack looks a little flustered, "Uh, sorry. I mean, you do look good."

"So what's with the chainmail? I didn't hear about the Ren Fair was coming to town," you ask as Zack leaves your home behind. You reach into the back and grab the hilt of the sword. It's heavy, and it doesn't rattle which surprises you a bit. Otherwise, it seems very much like as word to you. "Your sword?" you ask "Or just happy to see me."

Zack belts out a genuine laugh, which makes you feel proud, normally you fuck up deliveries like that, being quippy is not something you've ever been good at. This time, it was easy.

"Yeah Actually I do Ren fair shit at the Mason County fair, believe it or not."

You're inclined to say "not" but, on second look. Zack's got longish hair, square-jawline. Yeah, he totally looks like the kind of guy who could sell you a leather mug from a tent.

"You sword fight?" you ask.

"Try to," Zack says, "I do some blacksmith stuff too." He looks quite pleased with himself, "The mail shirt is something I'm working on. It's not done but you can put it on if you want."

"I'm okay," you say.

"I've got a neighbor who's really into this stuff, this cool redneck dude. He's got a forge and sometimes when my dad's at work he'll show me how to make shit."

You nod, unsure how to respond. Zack wasn't the sort you'd have pegged to be a sword nerd, although it did explain the weird prop knife he had in the cemetery.

"Are you any good? At sword fighting I mean," you ask.

Zack gives you a flashy grin, "Will you be more impressed if I brag, or if I'm honest?"

"Depends," you say.

"I suck," Zack replies. "I think hitting shit with a sword is super cool, but I don't ever have anyone to practice with and I don't have all the gear I need anyway. That shit's expensive. That sword ran me like 500 bucks."

"Wow," you say, thinking that it's right in line with some of the crazier articles of clothes you've bought.

"Yeah. Hey thanks for coming, by the way," Zack says, pausing to turn down his music a little bit, "I know it's kind of weird but . . . " he shrugs.

"Sure, it's okay," you say, internally cringing at yourself and your inability to small talk.

You're silent for the rest of the short ride to the Roselake town limits, headed west for Lasker City.


>Ask about his family
>Test your pact by trying out an "order" (more options to follow)
>Ask about his friends
>Ask about the plans for the day
>Write in

>>2090240
>Ask about his family
To try and make small chat, then
>Ask about the plans for the day

>>2090240
>"So, how'd you get to be working at a Ren Fair? You mentioned blacksmithing, too."
>Ask about the plans for the day

>>2090240
>I’ll have to fight you some time.
Don’t mention that we have a friend who might be able to give us some tips.

>All that

>writing

"So you live with your dad?" you ask.

"I don't think that's uncommon."

"No, I mean, do you live with your mom too?" you ask, flustered.

"Nah. I see her on the weekends. My parents split up when I was a kid," Zack watches the road. "That's why I can get away with doing all this awesome stuff. No supervision."

"So, how'd you get to be working at a Ren Fair? And you mentioned blacksmithing too?"

"The Ren Fair think you just gotta know people. Arthur's cousin works there and brought me in. I do some boring shit like concessions usually. When they let me, I up suit and get pulverized in the arena. You know, sword fights. Like I said, I'm garbage, but it's a rush, you know? Like sex if sex had plate mail. As far as blacksmithing, I just had a weird neighbor. He's like . . . One of those DIY country guys. You know, blows up toilets in his backyard, built his truck a new bed. He's got a little forge and he lets me try it out. I'm garbage at that too, but I can do the chainmail thing. Just takes time and practice."

"And you don't have anyone to practice with?" you ask.

"Nah. Nobody's got the right gear. Brent's afraid he'll lose an eye or a finger or something and Arthur thinks it's stupid."

"Maybe," you say, "I could fight you." You sense an excited stirring in your mind, the idea intrigues your Friend.

Zack takes his eyes off the road long enough to give you a skeptical look. "You're what, like 5'5? How much do you weight? Like a hundred pounds?"

You narrow your eyes, "Doesn't mean I can't fight you."

"You'd be lucky to swing the sword," Zack retorts. "I mean, I wouldn't mind teaching you a few things. We can do some of that too if you want."

"Sure. So what's the plan today anyway? I assume you have a plan."

"Ah yeah, I should have checked with you first," Zack gives you a quick look. "There's a couple cool places within walking distance of my house, just off in the woods, old buildings and shit. I figured maybe we can check them out together."

"Okay," you say. "That sounds cool."

"And if you want I can show you some sword shit. I don't have safety gear for both of us, so we can either do it the stupid way and not use it and just be careful, or I can just show you how to do stuff.


>I'll be careful. We should fight!
>Safety first. Teaching is okay.
>write in

>>2090342
>I'll be careful. We should fight!
>It will appease the voice in my head and he’s done such nice things for me recently.

>>2090342
>Safety first. Teaching is okay.
I've also heard that there's an old abandoned church deep in the woods near my town. I figure if this doesn't pan out, we can try there sometime.

>Safety first

I'm erring on the side of caution given the tie.


>writing

>>2090405
>Safety first but we should fight.

File: MasonCounty.jpg (298 KB, 1280x810)

298 KB JPG

The idea of crossing swords with some guy you just met and no training or safety gear leaves you uncomfortable. "Um, you can just teach me. scars are cool, but I don't need any."

"Yeah, no reason to-" Zack glances at you, and seems to think better of whatever he was about to say. Probably something about your looks. "Do something dangerous. We'll still have fun."

"Did you ever hear of the abandoned church in Roselake?" you ask.

Zack shakes his head, "No, never. Is it real?"

"My b-" you stop, mentally correcting yourself "my friend told me he heard about it. I trust him."

"Friend?" Zack asks, the tiny hint of disappointment impossible to conceal.

"Yeah," you toy with a strand of your hair uncomfortably, "It's supposed to be all black, and it's off in the woods. People say witches meet there."

"Well, do you?"

You realize Zack is implying you’re a witch you makes you smile, "No, we meet up in Edenvale."

Zack chuckles, "Well, we'll have to check it out sometime. Sounds killer. I mean, if you want to."

You nod, feeling uneasy as your small talk runs out, trying not to think about the fact that you're in a car with some strange guy going god-knows-where. You look out the passenger window instead, watching the autmun woods roll by. After a few minutes of silence, you pass a dilapidated grain silo, rusting at the edge of what had once been a dairy farm. You know that silo.

You sit up straighter in your seat, feeling an overwhelming sensation of cold trickle through your body to settle in your gut, your palms go clammy.

It was too late to ask Zack to turn around and he wouldn't understand anyway. You feel a little nauseous. You look over your shoulder to see the woods and hills you just passed through, rising above the car. You were clearly moving down, out of the hills now. Oh god.

You grab the door handle, holding it tightly, your other hand checking your seatbelt. There was no time to do anymore.

The wooded terrain around you suddenly drops away, the landscape plunging downward as the road you're traveling on leaves the hills and instead becomes a bridge, spanning a wide creek a hundred feet below. You squeeze your eyes closed before you see the sign naming the creek you're crossing, the creek that shares its name with the bridge.

"Alice? Are you okay?"

(1/2)

File: DarkChurch.jpg (564 KB, 800x586)

564 KB JPG

You nod, not opening your eyes, wanting to cry out that 'no' you are not in fact, 'okay'. The name of the bridge was especially unfortunate to you, given the huge impact (no pun intended) it'd had on your life.

Foster Bridge. The bridge that failed five years and took the life of your parents.

"What's wrong?" Zack's voice insistent, he turns the music off.

You feel the 'hollow' sensation drop away, the road returning to earth, leaving the bridge and you exhale, opening your eyes, trying to keep your hands from shaking. "I just . . . nothing."

"Are you having a migraine or something? Want me to keep the music off?"

In answer, you reach out and turn it back up, treating your ears to a splintering guitar riff. "No, this is fine."

You take another shaky breath, just happy you hadn't started to cry. You'd forgotten the road to Lasker City went this way. Your family avoided it. Well, they avoided it now.

"Then what's up?" Zack asks again.

You almost tell him. You open your mouth to tell him about the day your parents were taken from you by an unresolved engineering issue. But what would he even say? The same thing people always said when you told them.

Oh, I'm sorry.

How awful.

That's so sad.

My condolences.

You had enough of those to last a lifetime. Besides, it would only make things weird. You considered telling him that bridges made you nervous, but once he found out- if he found out about your parents, it would just put suspicions in his mind. Suspicions that are correct in this case, regarding your fear of this bridge, but still. "I just didn't feel good," you say, looking out the window, "I'm okay now."

"Carsick? We'll be there soon, it's not far. We live on the edge of the hills, not even in town," Zack says.

You want to change the conversation away from this.


>Do you have a girlfriend?
>What were you trying to do with that school shooter's ghost anyway?
>Ask about his friends
>Test your pact by trying out an "order" (more options to follow)
>Write in

>>2090438
>>What were you trying to do with that school shooter's ghost anyway?
"Even if you did summon him, I wouldn't think someone who did what he did would like being bothered too much."
"I'd think I'd try summoning up someone who I admired."

>>2090438
>So, what are some of those cool places that you mentioned were nearby your house?

>writing

"Why summon that school shooter kid anyway?" you ask.

"Schrodinger?" Zack asks. "I don't know, seemed interesting."

"Even if you did summon him, I wouldn't think someone who did what he did would like being bothered too much," You say.

"Heh. That's possible. At least he didn't take his guns and shit with him. Probably. I don't know, it seems interesting. Tormented soul, died young. I'd like to talk with him. Ask him why he did it. Stuff like that."

"I'd think I'd try summoning up someone who I admired," you say off handedly.

"I mean . . . The dude was crazy, and an asshole I guess. I don't think I admired him, but he's interesting you know. Would you pass up a chance to talk to Hitler?"

"I don't know," you say, wondering what your great-grandparents, who'd lost their homes in Yugoslavia to him might say to that question. "So, what are some of those 'cool places' that you mentioned were nearby your house."

Zack snickers, "Nah, that's not fair. I want you to be surprised. I mean, it's nothing insane, just a couple empty buildings in the woods. Nothing weird, nothing dangerous."

"Okay."

X

Finally, your winding trip on back country roads comes to an end, Zack pulls the car onto a short gravel drive way that ends at a shed or garage of some kind, nearby is a small, single-story house. You notice a rusted bike sitting by the shed and the remains of a trampoline in a backyard which is looking in need of a good mowing.

"Alright, we're here," Zack says before unbuckling and getting out.

You follow his lead, marveling at the woods that seemed to surround this house, crawling up the hills nearby. You toss your backpack over your shoulder and Zack fishes his sword and jacket out of the car before closing the door.

"My dad's not home," he explains, leading you into the house, tossing his keys on a counter beside a sink full of dishes.

"What's he do?" you ask. "I mean, his job."

"He's a supervisor at the lumberyard," Zack says, sounding bored. Old news. "What about you, what do your folks do?"

"It's- we have a funeral home."

"Whoa," Zack looks back at you, "No shit?"

You shake your head.

"Huh, suits you I think. You gonna take over one day?"

"I . . .don't know. Maybe."

Leaving the small kitchen, you pass a dimly lit living room with a TV piled high with video game cases, and enter a dark, narrow hall. Zack pauses at a door and opens it. You catch a glimpse of total disarray, dirty clothes, an empty fish tank, some tools on a desk, a hammer, pliers, small metal coils, that prop dagger.

Zack picks up a backpack which makes the telltale rattle of spray-paint cans and grabs a pair of hatches from the floor, tossing one in the bag, and sticking the other in his belt.

"Oh hey, you want anything to eat? A snack or something? I figured we'd head straight out."

You shake your head, brushing a lock of hair behind your ear, "No, I'm fine."

"Cool. Come on."

You make the same trip in reverse, stepping to the side so Zack can brush past you in the narrow hall, your backpacks bumping together.

Zack closes, but does not lock the door to the house and waits for you to adjust the straps on your backpack. "You cool to walk? It's really not far."

"I'm fine," you say.

You two walk in silence, you following Zack, leaving behind the overgrown yard and passing the shed, headed for the woods and an imposing hill ahead.

After entering the woods, the light level drops dramatically, it's still bright enough to see, but the leaves still on the trees turn early afternoon to dusk under their canopy. Zack stops to get his bearings.

"By the way, how's your hand?"

You hold it out and Zack leans closer to see. Your cut is closed up, but looks irritated.

"You working out or something?" he asks with a smile.

You shake your head.

He traces a finger along your palm, following the cut, "Well lay off it so it can heal. You don't want scars remember."

You pull your hand away. "I haven't done anything to keep it from healing," you say defensively.

"No sweat," Zack looks a little uncomfortable. "I do have to say though, that was really fucking cool. I still have the picture of you putting blood on the stone." He looks lost in the memory before looking back at you, "Do you think you'd ever do something like that again?"


>Sure
>No
>Maybe if you wanted me to
>only in exchange for something else
>Write in

>>2090594
>I dunno. Probably not. I may be spooky, but I don't think the cutter life's for me. Pain is still pain, and people have enough of that in their lives without causing it to themselves.

>>2090633


>Writing

>>2090594
>I'd need a very good reason.

You consider the question a moment. "I dunno. Probably not," you say.

"How come, you were petty gung ho before," Zack says.

"I may be 'spooky', but I don't think the cutter life's for me. Pain is still pain, and people have enough of that in their lives without causing it to themselves."

Zack seems embarrassed, "No, I didn't mean like that. I'm definitely not into that. No, not at all. I meant like, you know ghosts. Like summoning ghosts. Not cutting yourself up for me."

"Well I'd need a very good reason," you say, giving Zack a suspicious look, wondering if he really were into that. You'd had the means to find out if you'd take that gift from your friend. You supposed if you cared enough you could just order him to tell you. Didn't really seem fair though.

"Sure, totally. You ready to keep going?" Zack asks.

You nod.

X

"So what do you listen to, Alice? Music wise."

"All sorts of stuff," you reply. "Lots of tradgoth stuff, Darkwave, some newer stuff too, Witch House has some hits I think."

"Yeah? Cool. I'm more rock you know? But it's all good. I'd give it a listen.," Zack stops, the two of you catching your breath, you've been walking for close to thirty minutes, mostly uphill. "See that?" he gestures ahead.

It takes you a moment but once you see it, it seems obvious. A squat, cinderblock building that had been painted white or beige at some point in the past stands just a few dozen yards ahead in the woods, choked with undergrowth. You can see the exterior is marred with spray paint, mostly illegible, but a few faces or strange symbols and words are visible. Zack trudges on.

"What is it?" you ask.

It's not large, maybe the size of a trailer or a small house, there are a few, small square windows on it and, now that you're closer, you see the remains of a basketball hoop mounted on the side.

"It used to be a boy scout building. Like, they used to come here for overnights and stuff. Been like this for years," Zack steps around a rotted stump, offering a hand you don't take to climb over. Just to your left is the door, well, the doorway, casting just a little light into the hollow interior.

Zack leads the way, kicking aside a branch and stepping in with you following behind. It's sort of anti-climactic. The structure is really just one large room with a pair of other, much smaller rooms closed off by doors. The main room is mostly taken up by a single rusted metal table and a row of counters with the drawers removed.

"Wow," you walk the perimeter of the room, marveling at the dusty smell and the sense of abandonment this place has.

Behind you, you hear the rattling of a spray can. Zack is shaking a can of Red, pulling on a paper mask before spraying a crude stickman on the wall followed by REDRUM.

"Wanna try?" he pulls out a can of black and kicks it skittering across the floor toward you. "I've got a spare mask too."

"You just come in and paint this place?" you ask, picking up the can.

"Sure. Helps me relax a bit. It's like . . . Diet-anarchy, you know?" he grins behind his mask. "You might like it."


>No thanks
>Paint something occult
>A.C. was here
>Write in

>>2090720
>A.C. was here
>After that, check out the rooms and see if your friend can feel anything
>Ask her using your cell while Zack paints another sign

>>2090749

>Writing

You step up to a blank spot on the wall and give the can a few shakes before applying a crude A.C. WAS HERE to the wall above the cabinets, holding your breath mostly to avoid inhaling the fumes. Once done, you step back to admire your handiwork.

It's terrible. Looks like you're not really cut out for civil disobedience. Oh well. You set the can down and glance back at Zack, currently preoccupied with tracing some kind of intricate pattern on the wall. You walk the perimeter of the room, typing on your phone.

>Do you feel anything here?

{No. Not here. Although I think there may be something not far from here, Alice. I have a suspicion it's Zack's next stop.}

>What is it?

{Something miserable.}

>Like what?

You get no response. Very helpful.

You reach the part of the building with two doors and push the first open with a squeak, revealing a shattered porcelain toilet and a foul odor. You cover youth mouth and nose and pull the door shut again. One mystery solved. You turn to the other door and stop.

You hadn't noticed, but it’s in terrible condition not just from age, but from physical damage. There are a few holes punched straight through the door, other, jagged gouges mar its surface. There are a multitude of hand-sized punctures across its surface. Almost like . . . Claw marks?

"My practice door," Zack says, startling you. He nods to indicate the door you're looking at. "When I'm having a rough day, I come out here and throw hatchets at it or stab it and shit."

You look back at the door. Some of the damage looks fairly fresh.

"Want to try?" Zack is drawing a hatchet from his backpack to match the one on his belt.


>Sure, I'll give it a shot if you show me how
>No thanks, I'll just watch
>Write in

>>2090827
>>Sure, I'll give it a shot if you show me how

>Sure, I'll give it a shot if you show me how

>writing

"Sure," you say, sliding your phone into your pocket. "I'll give it a shot if you show me how."

Zack beckons you forward with his hatchet, executing a quick twirl to present you with the handle. A move you can imagine him practicing alone in this abandoned building until he perfected it. You take it.

He guides you into a parked position just a few yards from the door, about halfway across the room. "Alright," Zack places one hand on your back, between your shoulder blades, the other on your right forearm. "So, first, lock your wrist and hold it stiff. We're throwing with the elbow."

"Okay," you follow his motion for a few slow practice swings until you think you've got it.

Zack lets go and steps back.

You exhale and draw the hatchet back before sending it spinning toward the target.

The hatchet handle hits the door and the whole thing clatters to the floor.

"Too much wrist," Zack says, "Gotta keep it stiff." He hands you the second hatchet. "Give it another go. Remember, you've got one shot to plant that hatchet between the eyes of your enemy. Just one shot. If you fuck it up . . . Well . . . Then they're pissed off and they have your hatchet."

You gave Zack a look to make him be quiet and then center yourself. Deep breath in, slow breath out. You heft the weight of the hatchet and stare down the door. It's Holly now and she's throwing her arms around Chad and smirking at you.

Get fucked, freakshow. Tits or not, nobody wants to be with a freakshow.

You haul back and let the hatchet fly, the head punching through the thin wood of the door at about waist level.

"Nice!" Zack applauds. "You're a natural."

You brush the hair out of your face and smile at the fresh gouge in the door. "Can I try again?"

X

That's all the time I've got guys! I'm working early shift tomorrow. Thanks for playing and thanks for reading!

This will be the only session this week cause it's holiday time in America-land. I'll be launching a new quest next week running all week, War of the Roses covering a feudal civil war in alternate 1930s-England. If you like war, dynastic politics, medieval politics, or Jazz, you may enjoy. Stay tuned to the Twitter for the next session of Spooky Girl, otherwise it's having a week and a half long break most likely.

https://twitter.com/TimeKillerQM

As always, I've got time for customary Q & A/Planning/Requests etc. Fire away!

File: AC6.jpg (75 KB, 540x540)

75 KB JPG

Almost forgot the customer thread close image.

>>2090877
Well, at least I could be around for some of the session this time.
I missed the chance to have Alice say
>"You wanna know how I know you don't have a girlfriend? Because your idea of hanging out with a girl is going around abandoned buildings while showing your prowess with deadly weapons. You are lucky, I am not easily scared" in a mocking and haughty tone.

Well, there is always next time

I am surprised that Our Mutual Friend wasn't snarking the whole time at Zack. Maybe he finds his lack of tact and weird antics endearing?
Or he knows that, at the end of the day, he won't be a threat.
He could at least cleaned out his place, y'know?

I'll check out your other quest when it is out. I know all about the War of the Roses. Why, I played the Yu-Gi-Oh! game about it, of course.
See you next time, and merry Turkeymas.

>>2090877
Hey, great to see you again, boss! Thanks for running.

Since I kinda ran out of questions that could logically be answered by Alice, I hope you don't mind if I ask some for the minor characters.

>Zack: What exactly got you interested in Alice?

>Zack's friends: Why do you think Zack's interested in Alice?

>Grace: How did you and Mark meet? How long were you two dating before you tied the knot?

>Holly and Chad: So, the local Denny's seems to be a pretty popular breakfast spot for the football team and cheerleaders. How did that little tradition start out?

Enjoy your fat american bird genocide day, boss!

>>2090931
>Well, at least I could be around for some of the session this time.

And we were glad to have you!

>Alice Dialog
I'm carrying that over to the next episode for sure!

>Friend considering Zack a threat/non-threat
I am intrigued as to what you mean.
You'll have to ask how your Friend feels about him to know for sure.

>He could at least cleaned out his place, y'know?
That would be work.

>I'll check out your other quest when it is out
I appreciate it!

>See you next time, and merry Turkeymas.
Till then, and thanks!

>Hey, great to see you again, boss! Thanks for running.
Good to have you playing! It was my pleasure as always.

>Questions for other characters
It's dangerously close to reading minds, but I'll allow it cause I have fun answering them. You'll forgive me if they're a little vague.

>Zack: What exactly got you interested in Alice?

Well did you see her? This hot goth chick chilling in a cemetery, then she doesn't freak out when we tell her what we're doing, tells us she's not a virgin and cuts her hand open for some favors? She's totally crazy, dude. She's fucking fearless, and that's hot. Plus that ass helps, right? Anyway, you don't find girls like her everyday.

>Zack's friends: Why do you think Zack's interested in Alice?

Aurthur: He probably wants to see if he can get her to suck his sick.

Brent: cause Zack has that "edgy" thing going on, you know? His last girlfriend was a real ball crusher. Total bitch. He's into those strong female types. I think she's cute, but she's a little weird for me. Seems more quiet than Zack' s usual interests, but maybe he needs a change. I think he was sold when she cut her own hand.

>Grace: How did you and Mark meet? How long were you two dating before you tied the knot?

It's a funny story! People assume we met through work, carting bodies around, but really we met at this donut place in Lasker City. His ambulance driver's name was Grace too and our orders got switched, so Mark chases me down in the parking lot, but gets flustered when I turn around, gives me both orders and tries to leave. Anyway, somehow in all this mess, he asked for my number and we hit it off! We dated for just over a year before we got married. I moved to Lasker with him so we could be close to his job.

When my parents passed he really stepped up and we moved back to my parents place so we could take care of Alice and not make her move and transfer schools. It's been hard on everyone, but especially him. He thinks he has to fix everything himself.

>Holly and Chad: So, the local Denny's seems to be a pretty popular breakfast spot for the football team and cheerleaders. How did that little tradition start out?

Chad: Well, they've pretty good pancakes. I mean not great pancakes like IHOP, but pretty good.

Holly: It's not really like, a tradition, it's more like there's nowhere better in this shitty little town. You know Lasker has an IHOP and two Waffle Houses. But Waffle House is kind of ghetto. I dunno, its close to school, but what isn't? At least that weird corpse girl stopped coming.

>Enjoy your fat american bird genocide day, boss!
I'll do my best. It's no Halloween. Thanks!

As a note for next time, can we ask Zack what made the claw marks on the door?

>>2091041
Ayy, missed most of the thread since I was at college. Just wanted to say that your quest gives me something to look forward to each week. Keep up the great work, TK.

>>2090877
>As always, I've got time for customary Q & A/Planning/Requests etc. Fire away!
Sorry I’m late.
So Alice, sub or Dom?

>>2091122
Sorry if I was unclear. It was meant to be a takeout. Just medieval weapons damage. Probably.

>>2091267
You're Good! Thanks for pooping in and thanks for the kind words!

>>2091456
>so Alice, sub or Dom?

Th-That's personal! I don't like talking about lewd stuff like that! Although . . . onetime Franz pulled your hair when you guys were making out and it felt . . . Nice. Sometimes you fantasize about being held against a wall and- I shouldn't be thinking about this stuff right now. I'm trying to focus on throwing hatchets!