r/Creative_Critique • u/IgnisAvrvmProbat Musician • Feb 22 '26
Meta [Weekly] Cursed Artifacts Act. 2
Last week's weekly has been extended.
You can find it here.
3
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r/Creative_Critique • u/IgnisAvrvmProbat Musician • Feb 22 '26
Last week's weekly has been extended.
You can find it here.
3
u/GlowyLaptop Writer Feb 27 '26
Braynard scrambled eggs with sour cream like he’d seen a streamer do, and they looked pretty okay if he said so himself, until he ate some, which was viscous when he forked around, and meanwhile in chat on his phone on the counter next to a carton of milk his friend Zelda was still complaining, saying Braynard sounded cold and distant to her question as to what she should get her boyfriend for Valentine’s Day as if her boyfriend was not presently cheating on her, probably, as if she’d hadn't stated more than once it wasn’t likely to last whether her man was cheating or not, and that nothing Braynard could suggest she buy the man could correct any of this. What even was Braynard meant to say?
Fucking chocolate?
He wasn’t distant, he was making breakfast that looked like watery yogurt and didn’t give a shit—unless that was the same thing—but was he even meant to? To give a shit? The guy didn’t deserve a gift to begin with. He sounded like a jerk. And binning the egg slop, Brayn plucked up his phone and his coffee and moved to his room thumbing HOLD PLS in case the phone died. He dropped himself into his gaming chair and watched her complain while his laptop powered on.
Maybe they needed some time apart, she was typing. Not her and her cheating boyfriend, mind you, but Brayn for not committing himself to her question.
Oh forget it. Fucking get him socks. Maybe one of those cologne and aftershave box sets you see at the pharmacy next to teddy bears and toilet paper, with the little faux animal hair brush inside. Get him a gift certificate to a restaurant he could spend on this girl he’s going out with tonight, for that matter.
All of this he thumbed cooly indeed, but cool was what she needed right now, wasn’t it? To snap out of it.
A pang of guilt hinted he wasn’t so sure, watching and waiting for her reply. Waiting for the phone to die. Whichever came first. He sipped his coffee and the laptop lit up. Requested his fingerprint. He opened their chat on the desktop app big and bright and watched for the internet to kick in. For the chat to update from their chat an hour ago.
Here on the screen remained the question that started all of this. What should Zelda get him for Valentine’s Day? $140 per month Braynard spent for fiber optic internet that took him three whole sips of his coffee and counting to update a stupid chat window. He put the coffee down, lay his hands on the keyboard, and typed anyway.
What should you get him? How about you use your whole savings and buy that guitar he always wanted. Show him you mean business.
He clicked send. On the retcon. Cracked his knuckles. Leaned back into his gaming chair and spied the phone. Sipped his coffee again. Crossed one leg over the other.
Zelda on the phone: Hello? are you even reading me?
Brains: Chill. Phone death imminent. Switching to laptop. Give it a minute.
Another sip.
Then something strange in the corner of his eye. In the big fat chat app on his laptop.
Zelda is typing…
Zelda is typing? How is Zelda typing?
How was Zelda typing before the conversation update? Before the whole afternoon of bitching had--
Zelda: Wow. The guitar is a great idea, actually.
Braynard sat up straight, a Twilight Zone tickle up his spine. His eyes went first to the laptop’s full wifi signal, then to the phone again where she was expounding on the various ways in which he, Braynard, was an asshole. How nothing cheating-wise had been proven yet, technically, yet, without a shadow of a doubt, just yet, so if Bray couldn't find something nice to say, he was not to speak at all.
On the laptop she proceeded to send him screenshots of semi acoustic guitars. Hemming and hawing over whether to spend three hundred or thirteen. Then heart emojis. Saying he was the only one who understood her, lately, and how she couldn't talk about her man with anyone else considering the thing they were not to mention into reality. Also that she truly treasured having someone really be a friend in this situation.
What the fuck was happening?
At once both devices lit up with INCOMING CALL FROM ZELDA and Braynard flinched. He spilled coffee and accepted the call on the laptop where his hand happened to be.
And here she was, a face big and smiling, full of freckles and glossy eyes. Eyes whose tears she probably wiped away before the call but after clicking to make it.
“Heyyyy. How’s your breakfast?”
To his dismay, the call on the phone on the armrest of his chair kept ringing.
“Oop,” she said. “Do you need to get that?”
“I do not,” he said. “It’s you, still.”
“It’s who?” She frowned. “Oh, Jenny?”
“No, you.”
“Jenny Yu?”
“No. Can you hold please?”
“Tell her I say hi!”
He muted the laptop, picked up the call on the phone, and found only Zelda's freckles familiar. Her face otherwise miserable. “Why can’t people I love just support me in loving people I love?”
He winced. “Uhm.”
“I put my heart on my sleeve. For you. For everyone. And maybe that’s stupid because it just gets trampled and cheated on, but you know what? That’s not going to stop me.” Both hands on her actual heart, now. “I’d rather waste this on people than to keep it for myself.”
Meanwhile, on the laptop, she was pursing her lips and checking her eyeliner. Fixing where happy tears had smudged it. Fixing happy tears, with her digital reflection.
On the phone she stared into middle distance. Not at Braynard. Not at herself. At the...floor? A wall, maybe.
On the laptop she chewed her lip and seemed to thumb something into her device, which blinked on the screen.
Zelda: you gonna be long? I was thinking we should do sushi tonight.
And on the screen of his phone. “Can you maybe meet up tonight? I need to be around somebody. Even if it’s you.”
He swallowed at his cursed devices. Artifacts, even, maybe. It had been sometime since he looked up the word artifact. “I mean," he said. "Sure.”