[ Regret doesn’t end up in California very much, but just this once, he’s in California. He doesn’t like the area. Suits do not do well in warmer climates. But here he is, in Barstow, halfway between Las Vegas and San Diego. A kind of rest stop, usually.

Oh, what he would give to be able to send these dead bastards elsewhere. They’re not very useful. They loiter. They rot (to his vision and no one else’s). They’re intrusive. But they’re as attached to him as any parasite would be, and they’re a result of his actions, so they’re bound together. With chains or cuffs or unseen brotherhood built in the forges of a war.

Anything bound to war tends to persist after death. ]


You’re in Barstow. California. 

[ He’s offering blank answers with little hope of continuing the conversation. He really has no clue that these things are visible to anyone else at the moment. Normally he has to induce that kind of state upon others. ]

            Perhaps there was some apropos, though painful, irony to Odd finding himself standing before Regret of all possible options when it came to personifications.

            Not that Odd knew any of that himself.

            But, he had his regrets for certain. He had more blood on his hands than most twenty-somethings should. And some of the crimson that soaked his flesh unseen and coiled around a heart with something missing? Had been that of the love of his life. The woman he’d been destined to be with forever according to one of those fortune teller machines you see in carnivals and arcades. But he and Stormy? They knew that it was more than just some random thing, it was real. And there were days he saw her in the world around him, or at least his mind tricked him into it. She was somewhere else now, somewhere he would one day find himself — when he fought the good fight and viewed himself deserving of seeing her again.

            Barstow, the city’s name was repeated as his eyes seemed to drift off, when in reality he was staring at one of the bodachs who seemed fondly transfixed by Regret’s scruff. Weird. As. Hell. ❝— is that all that far from Vegas?❞

            He had never witnessed bodachs seeming so attached to anyone before — he’d seen them crawling all over Fungus Bob that one time. But there was something profoundly different about how they were regarding Regret. If he didn’t know better it was like they had a crush on him. Which suffice it to say, made Odd feel a little creeped out; if a bodach or a few have a crush on you? You’re bound to be either something terrifying or you’re just a really unlucky person.

You won’t find the truth of life in morbidity, only in hope.

Little Ozzie, Odd Thomas
#( oddisms. )  #i wish little ozzie had been in the movie more  
We ate food that wasn’t healthy. We drank too much. And slept too much. But could never kiss enough. Everything was just as I wished.
#( my name is odd. )  #( it was supposed to be forever; she was lost amidst gunfire. )  



                  ❝ — Welcome to Club Adult, feel free to browse our wide
                     selection. Please don’t bother me with any questions.
                     If you’re here for a reading, I don’t clock in until after 3. 

                    And she won’t even bother looking up from her phone,
                    waving her hand around like a lunatic as she speaks.

            —- uhm, I think I might’ve walked into the wrong place in terms of
              looking for directions then, huh?

            He’ll do his best to seem charming and casual, but he’s off his game
            and that’s always a shit experience for him.    Not that he has exactly
            been on his game in a long time —  but that’s a detail for another day.



[ See, Regret’s always innately aware of Rochester, Hughes, and Hartwell around him. He kind of shoves that awareness off to the side, certainly, but the awareness is there nevertheless. One learns to ignore such things around the tenth climbing crescendo of static and Morse code clicking. He blinks at the person before him, doing that whole thing where he looks but doesn’t quite look.

There is, as always, a difference between looking and seeing. And he’s just doing the former. ]


Of course. I understand completely.

[ Blankly courteous. Something shuffles and spits static behind him and there is the immediate urge to say something to his hallucinations, such as ‘stop being fucking rude, Rochester’. Regret swallows instead and offers an extremely unconvincing smile at Odd. ]

            If this meeting had gone down in the small town of Pico Mundo, a full desert’s walk to Las Vegas, things might be different.

            The people of Pico Mundo knew Odd Thomas. The people of Pico Mundo loved him and celebrated him for what he’d done at the mall where he’d lost her. There were signs out that first day he’d left the hospital, held high by the people — ‘Odd saves’ and ‘In Odd we trust’. But the man before him was not a man from Pico Mundo and he’s not convinced by that smile at all. There was something still prickling at his skin and there were patches of goosebumps on the back of his neck as well as the backs of his upper arms.

            I'm not normally so clumsy… been traveling a lot lately, uhm, do you think you could let me know where I've found myself?

            He had a habit of just walking. And walking. And walking. All since he’d decided his work was not done, all since he decided Pico Mundo was not the only place that merited his attention and help before he could rightfully see Bronwen ‘Stormy’ Llewellyn once more.


friendly reminder that even if i take ages to reply, i still want to roleplay with you

#( psa. )  #( out of this world. )  



you have odd thomas who squints whenever he sees bodachs, especially when they’re like hanging all over someone like they’re the king of the other realm or whatever

and then you have regret who has bodachs for groupies and he names them and chats with them

it’s like

regret and his bodach motorcycle gang… peace, i’m outtie. 8I

regret will just kind of

[introduces you to his bodach clique] 

[makes you shake their hands because it’s polite] 

[slings friendly arm around bodach’s shoulder] haha look at these guys what a bunch of assholes am i right 

#( out of this world. )  #i am fucking  #i just  #regret pls  #i need this on my blog  

you have odd thomas who squints whenever he sees bodachs, especially when they’re like hanging all over someone like they’re the king of the other realm or whatever

and then you have regret who has bodachs for groupies and he names them and chats with them

it’s like

regret and his bodach motorcycle gang… peace, i’m outtie. 8I

#( out of this world. )  #poenitire  #i'm crying tbh  


[ They may or may not be showing up because Regret is a walking disaster, and it all depends on the number of bodachs being currently viewed. If it’s three, then some dead bastards might look different depending on who you are. Of course, Regret isn’t quite aware of this, though he is certainly aware of the man who sees fit to walk right into them. ]


— It’s fine.

[ Extremely blank tone. He immediately moves to step around him. ]

            There is a trio, admittedly, with a couple bodachs trailing along like they could be groupies — why the brunet would have bodachs of all things for groupies? Odd could neither fathom an explanation for or think of one for; and actually desired an explanation for. Hazel green eyes brimmed with curiosity and something else not as easy to place were drawn to stare directly at Regret — letting bodachs know you know they’re there? Well, that’s an ill-recommended maneuver at best, and Odd was well-trained.

            —- I wasn’t paying attention there, lost in my thoughts…

            That’s both true and definitively bullshit at the same time; he knew what he was doing, yes. But, if we’re going to be honest here? Odd has been lost in his thoughts since he managed to bring himself to accept her absence and prepare himself for the fight ahead til he would see her again. He came out of that war all wrong; anatomy stitched incorrectly and pieces missing.


“From time to time, I do consider that I might be mad. Like any self-respecting lunatic, however, I am always quick to dismiss any doubts about my sanity.” 

Dean Koontz; Odd Thomas

#( my name is odd. )  #( inside my head. )  
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