#( sun gets over himself and maybe gregory could use it as a safe room of sorts at some point :thinking: idk

[sunnymused]

From beyond the doors, one of them stops and calls out, with false promises of candy and safety, and linger just long enough to make one wonder if the door is strong enough to keep them out. Sun shifts from one foot to the other in the same anxious way he had the first time they'd been in the Daycare together, wondering what exactly was the difference between HIS programming and THEIRS. Not that it really mattered in the grand scheme of things... but hearing them act like this is somehow deeply unsettling.

Best be off quickly. He turns on his heels, and skips further into the Daycare towards the ball-pit, pausing to make sure Gregory was REALLY following him and hadn't changed his mind and run off.

The mention of his other self seems to catch him off guard. He stands rigidly, a complete turn around from the rather lax stance he'd taken as he waits there for something.

"Don't touch the lights--" they've been through this once, right? Gregory wouldn't make the same mistake and risk his life again? Fingers twitch, forcing himself to RELAX, don't scare the boy away. They've got this far. "Don't touch the lights. I don't want to hurt you."

A pause. "I promise."

Gregory doesn't believe him. And that's okay! But to make sure this goes smoothly, he needs the kid to have a little bit of trust for this next part - otherwise, the whole plan is kaput!

"I'm going to take you up there." He points towards the stage overlooking the daycare, "it leads to a secluded part of the pizza-plex. I can't promise they won't find you, friend, but this will sure give you a head start."

A cable lowers, and he holds onto it with one hand and offers Gregory the other. "Quick and easy as pie, double-cross my heart."

@overcastmuses ( continued from here! )

[Tonight had been a relentless, never-ending nightmare. Each of the animatronics had turned against him, intent on maiming him or worse; there was a dancing rabbit lady who surely shared their goal; even the night guard seemed to have malicious intentions. He wasn't safe anywhere. Even his only friend...]

[...Freddy had turned against him now. He was the same as the others, proving Gregory's worst fears -- he couldn't trust anything or anyone. Not even the only one who'd shown any affection for him, ever. His absolute favorite, a bear he'd consider his best friend ( or even a guardian ), was now hunting him down and taunting him with their former bond. Even after struggling to remain strong, to hold back his tears, that was his last straw -- he'd cried for the first time tonight, having his trust broken for the final time.]

[Needless to say, now that another animatronic was suddenly offering their assistance, he didn't believe it for a second. If even Freddy had turned against him, and Sun had already proven some disdain by remorselessly banning him from the Daycare, there was no chance that this was genuine. He was probably being tricked again. He didn't want to accompany the attendant. But...]

[He didn't really have anywhere else to run. Outside the entrance of the Daycare were several animatronics that he'd outmaneuvered ( including Freddy ), but they'd find him any second if he lingered in the Daycare's lobby. The last thing he wanted was to follow Sun, but...did he have a choice? At least he'd only have to run from one animatronic inside of the Daycare -- technically two, including Moon, but neither of them were much of a threat when there were so many distractions around.]

❝ Okay, fine. ❞ [Gregory huffed, scrunching his features in annoyance. He didn't trust this. There was no way he was going to follow Sun's instructions to "not peek."] ❝ I'll follow you, but I still don't trust you. If you try to hurt me, or that creepy Moon thing comes out, I'm gonna run. ❞

[madcatdaderpydrawer-blog]

“Daycare Attendant Moon?”

His head swivels 180 degrees, snapping to face the bear. It’s.. more unnerving then he’d like to admit, if he were to be honest. It’s such an inhuman trait; Everything about him is so disturbing, from the vibrant purple eye down to the shadow casted over his face from the brim of his hat. It almost looks like his eyes are glowing, and maybe they are. It’s difficult, but Freddy manages to smile at him.

“I’m sorry to disturb you, but I’m in need of your assistance.”

No reply other than a dull hum of acknowledgement, but it’s enough confirmation that he’s listening for the singer to continue.

“It appears that the systems in parts and services haven’t been fully deactivated, and I do not have the security clearance to access such machines. Would you mind... assisting me?”

Moon narrows his eyes, scanning him up and down skeptically; As if searching for a sign of.. something. His expression was unreadable, Freddy could only assume that he was trying to tell if he was lying or not. He tried to keep a neutral expression, growing more nervous the longer he stays silent. It feels like ages before Moon finally looks away, and the bear lets out a mechanical breath he hadn’t know he was holding. 

He doesn’t trust the bear by any means, but his brother had asked him to be more considerate of his supposed “friend” and he couldn’t deny such a simple request, could he? Besides, why would Freddy lie about something like that? It would serve no purpose in protecting the child, and that appears to be the bears only goal in this whole thing. 

Freddys eyes dart back to the daytime counterpart, where they linger for a moment. Sun is caught up in conversation, swinging Gregory around wildly in his arms. His heart almost leaps out of his chest at the sight. He really doesn’t want Gregory to get hurt, but the only way for the plan to work is if the two brothers are separated... He’ll have to trust that Monty will keep him safe.

Seeing his brother happy seems to put him at ease. While he doesn’t want to be away from Sun, he can’t bring himself to interrupt him when he’s having so much fun. It’s been so long since he got the chance to play with a kid... and besides, he doesn’t like the dark. It’s best if he avoids parts and services anyways. His gaze lands back on Freddy as he finally replies.

“Very well then.” His body contorts to face Freddy fully, and he makes a flippant wave indicating for him to lead the way.

Said bear sighs internally, “Thank you, Moon.”

Monty eyes the two carefully as Freddy leads Moon away from the group, though it’s barely visible behind his sunglasses. His departure goes unnoticed by Sun, as he had hoped. Everything is going as they had hoped so far.

Freddy hurries to the stage lift, acutely aware of the sharp clicking that stalks behind him. Moon is unaware of the plan, thankfully; He had worried that his poor lying skills would tip him off, but he didn’t catch on. 

Any attempts at small talk dies in his throat when his gaze lands back on the jester; He doesn’t look like he’s in the mood to talk, much less to Freddy, so he doesn’t bother saying a word. He just activates the lift, lowering them into parts and services.

The short ride feels as if it takes years; He isn’t used to that, Gregory is never this quiet. 

As the lift comes to a shuddering stop, Freddy steps off the platform followed shortly by the daycare attendant. He gestures towards the glass cylinder in the center of the room, “It was left on by the maintainence crew.” 

Moon hums, slowly approaching the control panel, “I see... You do not know how to operate this?”

“No, I do not. I’ve never used it before.”

He nods again and Moon starts tapping away, typing in swift fluid movements. Freddy stands back for a moment, waiting to ensure that Moon is fully engrossed in looking through the code. Once he’s sure that the jester is thoroughly distracted, he balls up a fist.

He can’t hesitate. If he hesitates too long, then he’ll lose the chance. This plan is for Gregory’s safety, and for the attendants safety too.

Before he can talk himself out of it, Freddy slams his fist into the back of the jesters head. The reaction is instantaneous; Moon drops to the floor like a sack of bricks. The amount of ease he did the task with is almost unnerving.

“I’m so sorry...”

It was the last thing Moon heard before his systems shut off entirely and he was left motionless on the floor.

He pauses, ears flicking as he waits for a moment in tense silence to see if Sun had noticed his brother go offline. If he had, then the plan was a bust, and the strenuous alliance they had formed with the brothers would be shattered.

When the yellow bot doesn’t immediately storm towards him screaming, he quickly picks up Moon, pulling out the box he had stashed in the cylinder earlier. A small tightly packed box labeled “Daycare Attendant 2-N maintenance”. It contained the restraints specially made for when Moon was to be contained in the cylinder.

He lays the slender animatronic down on the chair and opens the box; The wave of shock that goes through him when he makes contact with the metal doesn’t go unnoticed. So, they are those kind of restraints. He can already feel the guilt weighing on his heart; But he pushes through that, clipping on the restraints.

Now, all he can do is wait and hope that Monty handles his portion of the plan well...

[star-going-supernova]

Hey Star, I had an idea for a small fic idea, if you don't mind hearing. I recently got Security Breach for myself (loved it BTW, it's not a perfect game, but really fun) and after the whole part with DJ Music Man, if you go back to his area he doesn't chase you anymore, he just stands at his DJ booth dancing and playing music? Maybe you could write something where Gregory has to go back to the DJ's room for something and thinks "Why isn't he chasing me anymore?"

Of course I don’t mind hearing! Good to hear you enjoyed the game! Some of the glitches I’ve seen look pretty funny, tbh. This one’s on the shorter side, but I liked the idea of Gregory taking comfort in how DJMM just doesn’t react to him after the chase. So, by virtue of that, there’s not much interaction here, nonetheless, I’m pleased with it.

Something About the Silence

Gregory didn’t mean to end up in the west arcade again. It wasn’t his fault that the pizzaplex was one giant maze and his FazWatch map was next to useless. And he was tired, all right? He’d been running for his life for hours now, he ought to be forgiven for taking a wrong turn or two somewhere. 

Dazed from hitting his head during his most recent close call—Monty’s leaps were terrifying—he didn’t realize he’d entered the room with the dance floor until the music was already pounding a second heartbeat in his chest. 

He startled when he finally took note of his surroundings, adrenaline punching through his exhausted body. The neon lights on the walls pulsed in time with the music, and smoke machines hissed from hidden places around the dance floor. The multicolored disco lights on either side of the DJ booth were spinning slowly, casting wild patterns over every surface. 

And in the middle of it all, the DJ himself was bouncing along to the beat. 

Gregory was shocked enough to be frozen in place for a dangerous moment, except DJMM didn’t seem to care about his presence. There was no way Gregory hadn’t been noticed, not with how he was stupidly standing out in the open like this. 

Okay. Okay, so, what? He just wasn’t hostile anymore? 

As much as he wanted to think that didn’t make sense, the Sun guy hadn’t been hostile either, not until the lights where off and his worse half came creeping out. Maybe something had changed, and now the DJ was nice, like Freddy said he was. 

He inched closer, skirting around the lowered pit in the center of the room. Tense, waiting for a reaction, Gregory eyed the bopping DJ. By all accounts, he was completely ignored. 

This… this room was one of the few places that wasn’t crawling with STAFF bots or character animatronics. Other than DJMM, at least. Who didn’t seem at all inclined to try and smush Gregory or something. 

His heart slowed down the longer he went without encountering a threat. In place of adrenaline, a trembling sort of tired weakness had him drooping. Without letting himself question his decision, Gregory crossed the room to the small lounge area on the side, also free of bots. There were a couple couches interspersed among the taller tables, and he collapsed on one with a sigh. 

The couch back faced the entrance, so no one would be able to spot him unless they came all the way over here. It was about as safe as he could get. 

It was there, in the loudest room in the pizzaplex, that Gregory finally rested. Even if there were other places that seemed safe from dangerous intruders, something about the silence that filled most of the building kept him on edge, too wired to even think about closing his eyes. 

He was used to sleeping surrounded by noise. Silence meant bad things, like when a forest fell still and quiet. It meant all the creatures were hiding from a predator in their midst. In the absence of sound, Gregory got too focused on listening for the slightest little cue, until he was jumping at his own imagination. 

He slipped into much needed sleep, comforted by the beat reverberating through him, finally feeling less alone but not in a threatening way. The last thing he heard was the music’s volume being lowered—only slightly. Not enough to bring back the quiet, but enough to show care. 

[skynights2]

Sun theory and is moon malfunctioning resistant to Afton

A detail analyze

The back of their protective head plate in game it’s missing and the wires are seen.(they did mention prequel dlc) as you can see the back panel with the exposed wire on sun head, which should not be exposed...plus sun aware he has malfunction with the lights off.....that he shown stressed/afraid of himself when the lights are off.. with the back panel missing, this could indicate he got blow to the head/something got loose...as the back panel no longer there. This could point to malfunction, as evidence shows sun is not out to kill Gregory.

He got so upset when the lights turned off, he banned Gregory. I don’t think he aware of the other animatronics under afton glitch/control.  and thought Gregory would be put in timeout.   There is a unused line with sun saying “time out” to Gregory.. but we never hear him say this...maybe dlc for the passive route?

So if he is indeed malfunctioning/Moon personality. and more evidence is with

vanny, As it’s shown she use invisible/cloak when she heads to the day care, It’s probably her who shut off the power and got Gregory blamed! If she aware moon is malfunction/where sun at least seems to know there error when the lights go off. and why Afton can’t glitch him, because it’s two robots ai, in one body...plus the malfunction. probably shield sun ai.

Why would Vanny who working with Afton, need to hide from moon...which implies Afton/Vanny don’t have full control over him...which means if he figures out it was Vanessa or Afton, even with malfunction he might attack them over Gregory. Because from what evidence suggest if vanny did trick sun, into exposing Gregory out in the open.. Meaning he would have been safe with sun as long as the lights stayed on. (the generators where probably backup incase main power switched off, which it did thanks to vanny)

and we have more story of one of the staff, Leo tricking Sun into daycare role. If this message is reference to sun being tricked!? because so far i don’t see the robot mention in under theater, unless you count the day care...and sun is seen as creepy robot/or more moon is. plus the back theater, underground, hallways lead to his secret room belonging to sun!!! where he jumps off the balcony into the daycare ball pit!

plus other detail is the color change, unless this is some glow/invisible ink type color  dye/future tech i can see them being the same..

Unless sun really hates pull/lift duty to move moon around the room, and just being super dramatic.

but seriously

I think if we get prequel dlc, sun will be function better?.. Even sun eye are blue in the artwork but his eyes have no color/blind and both moon/sun color look more vibrant where now, the colors look worn out, and his back head panel is missing. explaining his malfunction clue. Why sun is agitated/stressed over moon Ai malfunction. 

Since it’s the same robot, but with two AI controlling the body when lights are on/off. 

Making me wonder if Moon is more dangerous to Vanny if he saw her I would think..Since she was using cloaking/hiding tech from him...

And I don’t think moon against other animatronics, since he acts more like security guard, helper.  Since Moon was able to tackle Freddy/heavy armored animatronic for being such a smaller model/fragile animatronic design. (though this shows moon is actually stronger/security android) But moon still got Freddy to be repaired.. and gave Gregory a wave....

So moon does look out for other animatronics if go by him dragging Freddy back to be fixed. He’s only coming after Gregory after upsetting sun. by turning off the lights. Which was most likely vanny who did it, which got Gregory blamed...

Also if go to sun/moon room in the daycare, will see broken robots. I think this shows more evidence sun trying to fix himself, or he is trying to fix the other robots as shown with moon taking freddy to parts and service..

maybe one of his back wires is damaged/loose, and he scavenging the broken robots to find replacement wire, so moon stops malfunctioning. beside looking out for the other robots/trying to repair etc. as there are wires neatly placed on the table in his room..

[edgcworth]

Home (Part 1/2)

Summary: Miles wanted to feel at home again, so he figured the right thing to do was that he provided a home for a dog that had lost theirs as well. He reached into his pocket for his phone, opened his browser and typed in “dog shelters near me”

Home. Much to his distaste, the concept that his mind gave to the word was uncharacteristically corny coming from someone as realistic as him. He had always envisioned a home as a place in which you simply feel like you belong. Which is definitely not something he felt in his quiet apartment. Silence was the norm here except for when Phoenix and Trucy would come over for dinner, then the apartment came to life for a little while, but they eventually went home and silence returned. Slowly settling down on his living room sofa, tea cup in hand, he couldn’t help but sigh and roll his eyes at himself for having such a romanticized concept for the word home. Having a rare day off to relax in his apartment was a double edged sword; for one his body could enjoy some rest from his merciless workaholic habits, but his brain just...didn’t quite get the memo to relax as well.

Come to think of it, it had been years since he really called a place home. The memories he had of those years kept becoming more and more distant as the years flew by. As strict and methodical as Miles could be, every now and then he allowed himself to indulge in reminiscing of home. He wished he could do it more often but he needed his absolute concentration for his job, so playing his memories on his mind to escape reality became a rare little treat he gave himself on a rough day. After setting down the now empty cup of tea in the coffee table in front of him, Miles slumped against the couch behind him and let his mind drift away to memories of his home.

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

It was the first week of July and he was walking home after his last day of third grade. The blazing sun was having no mercy on him so his normally multi-layered outfit had to be dismantled to just his dress shirt and shorts. As much as he prided himself on his careful selection for his school clothes he also didn’t want to have a heat stroke in the middle of the street, so he had stored his jacket and bowtie in his backpack to avoid sweating any more than he already had.

Due to his father’s job as defense attorney, Miles was no stranger to having to walk home from time to time. Whether it was a trial, a meeting or unfinished paperwork, there were times in which his dad simply couldn’t pick him up from school. He never complained about it since he liked having some alone time to think and the walk wasn’t more than 10 minutes, but now as the asphalt radiated back the heat from the sun onto him he wasn’t too thrilled about the walk.Thankfully, he was just a block a way from home so his suffering would end soon.

As he took out his key to the house from his backpack, he heard the unmistakable sound of his small Pomeranian’s paws clicking against the floor, quickly approaching the door and starting to whine for Miles to open it. As soon as he did, the small dog tried to pounce  on his legs while jumping up and down, barking and wagging his tail to greet him. “Hey Missile, I missed you too” Miles said smiling as he kneeled down to softly scratch his pup’s head. Once his shoes were off, he entered the house and headed for the kitchen with Missile following behind him, he was dying to get a glass of cold cold water. 

What he didn’t expect to find however, was his dad sitting down waiting for him. Gregory beamed when he saw his son enter the kitchen and stood up from the small dining table he was sat at. “Hey Miles, sorry I couldn’t pick you up today,  I wanted to do something to celebrate your last day of school so I didn’t take any breaks and got all my work done” Gregory explained, he then gestured towards the plate that was before him. As his eyes set on the plate, a surprised gasp escaped Miles lips, his dad had prepared him a small chocolate brownie with two vanilla ice cream scoops on top. Before he could say anything Gregory continued; “I am taking the rest of the day off for us to celebrate together” He finished his explanation with a fond smile. Miles couldn’t hold back his happiness any longer and sprinted to hug his dad. “Thank you so much father!”- He exclaimed as he wrapped his arms around him and squeezed tight. “You have no idea how happy his makes me!” Becoming jealous of the attention not being on him, Missile jumped at them, making Gregory laugh. “Yes, Missile you can be part of our celebration day as well” His dad jokingly reassured the tiny dog.

After having enjoyed his special brownie and ice cream treat, the evening went on with them going to the park together with Missile. As they walked together hand in tiny hand, Miles asked his dad to talk about any interesting cases he was working on and Gregory indulged him, feeling touched at how much his son admired his profession. When the sun started to set, they went back home, just in time for Miles’ favorite show, The Signal Samurai to start. After having sat down in the living room couch which Missile jumped onto as well, Miles hurriedly turned on the tv and got to the channel the show was on. As Gregory started walking towards the kitchen to make dinner, the sound of Miles’ voice stopped him.  “F-father I know you have to make dinner...but..would you mind watching the episode with me?” Gregory turned around to see his son blushing a little, he always found it so endearing that Miles was so shy that he occasionally blushed when asking things from him. Gregory evaluated the situation on his mind, he wanted to make Miles happy so he could probably just order them a pizza and join him but a small pang of guilt in him knew he already had given him a not so healthy meal earlier. Eventually Miles’ expression had him give in. “Sure, Miles, what toppings do you want for the pizza?”

After the episode had ended and the pizza was eaten, they had decided to watch a movie. Halfway through, sleep started to take over Miles and he rested his head on his father’s arm, slowly drifting off. Through his tiredness escaped a last feeling: a feeling of feeling loved, feeling happy and safe, a feeling of being at home.

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

Slowly coming back to reality, Miles scrunched his eyes shut and buried his face in his hands. There was nothing that could be done about the tears that slipped down his cheeks, just as there was nothing that could be done about his father, he was gone. His home had been ripped away from him in the cruelest way possible and decades after he still hadn’t found one again. But he was tired of marinating in nostalgia, he wanted to feel at home again, in the present and in reality.

He tried to study what aspects of his life before DL-6 could be salvaged and replicated onto his life now. Something that he could get learn to enjoy without Gregory now. What could he bring back to make his cold apartment more like a home?

Walking home from the courthouse? Hell. No. He had paid good money for his sports car and refused to ruin his suit. Pizza and ice cream brownies? Not a very good idea for a grown man in his thirties. Walks in the park? Mmm...walks in the park was doable, but doing so alone would be boring. After all, the fun of going to the park was being there with Missile. Oh Missile, the poor boy was also gone now. He had lived almost 15 years with Miles but had passed away due to health complications right after the Gant trial.

Maybe...he could get another dog? The idea wasn’t too crazy, after all, pets were allowed in the apartments he lived and as chief prosecutor he was busy, but mostly doing office work instead of trials. He also had his private office and could bring the dog with him on long work days if needed. For some reason, the thought of buying a dog didn’t sit well with him. Missile had been adopted after his owner abandoned him. Miles wanted to feel at home again so he figured the right thing to do was that he provided a home for a dog that had lost theirs as well. He reached into his pocket for his phone, opened his browser and typed in “dog shelters near me” He was set on being happy again. 

[rosalind-of-arden]

Sword and Pen Reread, chapter 5

Time to cry over Morgan.

Here’s our first hint that Morgan isn’t going to survive. The journal entry is “Archived to the Codex under interdict until her death.” I don’t think we’ve had ephemera from any of the main characters labeled that way before.

So Morgan’s journal was published after her death. She gets that form of immortality along with the ring. But, of course, this is a lot of very personal, emotional stuff to make public while she still exists in a way that allows her to be aware of it. Also, if Jess reads it, so many feels for him.

Morgan’s emotions in this journal are just so real for someone her age. She’s 18, she’s been through hell, and she doesn’t even know what to make of it all. It’s heartbreaking that she wants comfort so badly and questions herself for wanting it.

“What happened in the Colosseum feels like an ending.” This line felt jarring the first time I read it, since in her last POV chapter in Smoke and Iron, Morgan seemed to decide that she definitely loved Jess. But she felt that when she thought they were about to die, and that was before Brendan’s death. Morgan, extremely vulnerable after just escaping the Iron Tower and only just reunited with Jess, just saw Jess fall apart over his brother, too consumed by grief to think about her. She just saw that as intense as their feelings for each other have been, Jess has other relationships that are more established that have a huge impact on his life. That’s not either of their fault, but it’s got to hurt.

Also, consider the difference in Jess’s response to Brendan’s death and Morgan’s response to her father’s death. Not exactly the same situation, but still, close if complicated family relationship. Jess withdraws and can’t even take care of himself right after Brendan dies. Morgan keeps going after her father dies: trying to escape, checking on her friends... if she had any period of shock or withdrawal, it’s off page where we don’t see it. She may be hurt by Jess’s grief because it’s so different from her own that she can’t understand it.

Morgan recognizes that the things that have happened have changed her and Jess both. They really haven’t had the time to establish a relationship strong enough to last through those changes. Wolfe and Santi obviously have. Khalila and Dario had six months of peace together. Jess and Morgan had a lot of mutual pining and very little actual time. No wonder Morgan’s questioning things.

Morgan is a tea person. She drinks it unsweetened, apparently, since it’s bitter. Cooling, too. Morgan is the type to leave the tea in the cup and forget about it.

Morgan and Thomas both know ancient Greek.

In some ways, putting Morgan and Thomas on the same project is as bad as having Jess and Wolfe work together. Neither of them believes in getting adequate sleep when there’s work to do.

Ancient harbor defense mechanism was an Artifex-Obscurist collaboration designed by Heron.

Obscurists can bond people to automata. This seems like the sort of thing that has a lot of potential both for interesting problem solving and for absolute horror.

Medica-brewed energy potions are a thing. And Morgan’s preferred caffeine source might be tea, but she’ll grab an energy drink before she’ll consider sleeping.

Morgan and Thomas, taking a break from work to debate whether and how people can change.

“This is why I prefer my machines. Far easier to fix a broken automaton than a broken person.” My fucking heart, Thomas.

“His smile felt as warm as summer sun, and for a moment she forgot they weren’t just two students, debating.” My fucking heart, Morgan.

Seriously. Thomas: “I’m broken and can’t fix myself” *smiles* Morgan: “omg is this what it’s like to be normal students?” Children, neither of you is ok.

What does it take to make Morgan sleep? Knowing she’ll have to use lots of Obscurist power for a job.

Thomas has been assigned an office but no sleeping quarters. Odds that without outside intervention, he just ends up sleeping in his office?

Changes in Morgan’s power: what she grew up with was “a steady, slow trickle from the world around her” enough for elemental manipulation and rewriting scripts. Now it’s sizzling, “dark and glorious,” and even after using a lot at the Colosseum, she still feels like she’s “bursting with it.”

More hints at hidden Obscurist communities, maybe in/around Oxford? “She’d spent most of her life in hiding.” Assuming her father was in on it - an Obscurist himself (weak power, probably?), or a parent who would rather live in hiding than give his child up? And there’s how he was recruited to the Burners. A community of hidden Obscurists is going to be both an appealing and an easy target for them, and a siege could be the thing that pushes them into joining the Burners instead of hiding. Scholar Tyler could have been part of it too, a Scholar who sympathized with the hidden Obscurists enough to risk trying to help them.

Eskander, hiding magic rings is not an appropriate way to give them to people. Are you trying to be fucking Gandalf or something?

 There is nothing ominous at all about an ancient ring stamped with the seal of the Great Library that radiates power.

Morgan has so completely adopted Wolfe as her father that she doesn’t hesitate to think of Eskander as a grandfather.

Eskander has spent the past 40 years locked in his room. Eskander is wearing “boots that had seen years of use.” Old pre-Iron Tower boots of his? Or has Eskander spent the past 40 years pacing around his room with boots on? Raided the Iron Tower’s clothing storage and grabbed himself a pair of old boots instead of new ones?

“A lean, strong elder with long, curling gray hair.” Caine throws a bone to Eskander smut writers with this bit of description, I think. Morgan: sees Eskander, notices how good he looks, immediately thinks of adopted family relationships.

So quintessence is the power that’s in everything in this world. Apeiron encompasses other realities as well.

“This particular ring was created by the Obscurist Magnus Gargi Vachaknavi over five thousand years ago.” As Maz has so brilliantly pointed out, there is no fucking way that this entire statement is true.  Ephemera later in the book says Gargi was Archivist. So... could be Gargi was Obscurist Magnus and/or Archivist, but not actually 5,000 years ago. Great Library seal on the ring points toward this interpretation: that suggests it was made after the Library was founded. Or we go with the theory we’ve discussed on Discord. The Library claims to date back 5,000 years, treating ancient institutions in Egypt, Greece, etc as part of itself, retroactively applying titles like Archivist or Obscurist to people who wouldn’t have called himself that. Gargi was neither an Obscurist Magnus nor an Archivist, but those titles were retroactively assigned to her. The symbol was added to the ring later.

Or, for something a little more horrifying. Gargi made the ring 5,000 years ago. She has been using it to either share or steal bodies, and has thus been able to be an Obscurist Magnus and an Archivist, just not in her original body. She put the Library symbol on the ring whenever she joined up with the Library.

Eskander: You made me come out of hiding, now I’m training you to replace me. Suck it up, kid, this is nobody’s fault but your own. I mean, it’s a douche move to stick her with the job like that... but I kinda sympathize.

Morgan: My power is corrupted again, so maybe we should think about safety here? Eskander: No safety. Put the ring on. For science!

I think Eskander really is trying to help here. He knows Morgan isn’t using her power safely. He knows he can’t keep fixing her when she corrupts herself. The ring is the only thing that might work. But he is truly atrocious at communicating that, and he doesn’t seem to understand that bullying her into it isn’t right. 40 years of isolation plus most of his life in the Iron Tower - that’s not going to give him a healthy understanding of communication or consent.

Morgan’s power is repaired again when she puts on the ring. And upgraded.

The ring was put away because it disagreed with what the Library was doing. So Eskander finds this ring that’s probably been locked up somewhere, maybe labeled as dangerous... and unless it comes with an instruction manual, presumably, he puts the damn thing on. How else would he learn what it is? And Gargi tells him to fuck off and find someone better to wear her? Or maybe every Obscurist Magnus inherits it, tries it on, gets rejected, stashes it until the next Obscurist Magnus comes along? But maybe Keria slipped it to Eskander instead, keeping Gregory from getting it. Maybe Eskander even wore it a bit, until Gargi got tired of him doing nothing and told him to fuck off. Maybe the ring is how Keria and Eskander even figured out how to un-corrupt power.

Ring stays on the wearer until it decides it’s ready to come off. So, yeah, really not something you should have coerced Morgan into, Eskander.

Ring is messing with Morgan’s head already. Giving her dreams telling her she can stop the Archivist but it would kill her too, planting thoughts in her head, affecting feelings.

“Annis was very fond of Eskander.” For all the Annis/Eskander shippers.

“Scholar Wolfe, looking tired and drawn.” More to add to the Wolfe Is Not Ok pile.

Wolfe has two dying kids and available medical care isn’t helping. Who does he go to? The kid who he watches heal Santi, of course. He knows what Morgan is capable of.

Obscurist vision takes power to use. Morgan sees Glain’s body “mapped in flows of reds, blues, golds... and a steady expanding darkness.” Touching Glain lets Morgan feel what Glain is feeling and see the inside of her body.

The ring helps Morgan drain small amounts of power from everyone around her. It sends increasingly strong warnings as she uses too much power. Progresses to sharp stabs of pain, then catching fire.

Dad Wolfe is there to catch Morgan when she falls. Energy Vampire Morgan finds him tasty. Did this happen in/after Philadelphia too?

Morgan has seen Wolfe freaked out before. So it’s really saying something that here, he’s “terrified in a way she couldn’t remember ever seeing him.” I would really, really like to know how this compares to the Mesmer.

This tense little moment with Wolfe and Morgan before she leaves. She’s so scared of hurting him. He knows he just hurt her by asking her to save Glain. They both know how dangerous her corruption is. From Wolfe’s perspective, this is probably a lot like how he felt after Jess breathed the poison. He’s watching his kids kill themselves to accomplish their goals, and he can’t stop asking them to take the risks because there’s no other way to get things done. It’s Philadelphia all over again.

With her eyes closed, Morgan can perceive the garden, including fish in the pond. She can sense that Jess is dying.

The ring differentiates between consequences of choices and injuries inflicted by others. Choice and consent matter to Gargi, but she doesn’t consider the circumstances in which choices were made. Neither Morgan nor Jess had any good options when they made the choices that are killing them. Gargi doesn’t care about that.

Breakup time. Poor babies, they’re both so badly hurt, they don’t have anything left for each other, and they’re blaming themselves for that.

[afteriwake]

Desperate Times Call For Desperate Measures (16/?)

So this is the last of the new chapters I have for the moment! Hopefully, I’ll get to finish this one sooner rather than later...

Desperate Times Call For Desperate Measures - It all begins with an invitation to Mycroft’s wedding to his PA and seven days at a resort in Jamaica, with the assumption that Molly pretends to be his girlfriend that his mother might be under the impression that he’s going to propose to sooner rather than later. It ends up being so much more than that…

READ CHAPTER 1 | READ CHAPTER 16 | HELP ME SURVIVE? | COMMISSION ME? | BUY ME A KOFI? | MY PATREON

Molly and Sherlock went away for a few hours, enjoying an afternoon to themselves. They got back to their room as the sun was setting, taking turns using the shower and getting ready for the rehearsal ceremony. The other guests were going to be doing something different, but the six people involved in the ceremony needed to be on the beach where the ceremony was to be held. The chairs weren’t set out, but the areas where they would be were roped off so they would know where to go. Sherlock bristled as he saw Sherrinford lingering, leering at both Molly and Amanda, the other female of the wedding party, and he could see his other brother clenching his jaw.

“If he’s here, we know he’s not seeking out information,” Sherlock said, leaning over to his brother to speak to him without the officiant hearing them.

“I know, but the looks he’s giving...”

“Yes, they make me feel ill as well.”

Mycroft sighed. “I had hoped he’d have grown out of his derelict behaviors as he got older but apparently he’s simply gotten more foul. Robert went over what was found in his room. I’m not shocked, sadly.”

“He’s always been a lech?”

“As long as he’s known the opposite sex existed.” Mycroft crossed his arms. “This may pose a problem for some of the newly arriving guests. Your...goldfish, for example.”

Sherlock blinked. “My goldfish?”

“Inspector Lestrade, who is bringing Inspector Donovan as his plus one, and the Watsons. Molly said she felt lonely and you were busy with our brother, so they’re all on a private jet. I felt you would appreciate having both Gregory and John watching over her.”

“Honestly, I do,” Sherlock said as Andrea began to walk down the makeshift aisle. Mycroft uncrossed his arms and smiled at the woman he was going to marry, and Sherlock glanced over at Molly from across the way, who caught his gaze and gave him a warm smile. He was caught up in the sudden image of Molly walking towards him in some confectionery white wedding dress trimmed with yellow, holding a bouquet of flowers with that bright smile on her face.

Yes, he thought to himself. Definitely strong feelings.

Andrea got up to the makeshift altar they were using for the ceremony and the officiant began the ceremony. He was surprised that they didn’t go over the vows, as apparently Andrea and his brother were writing their own and wanted to wait until the wedding to share them. It was over far more quickly than he had expected, much shorter than John and Mary’s wedding rehearsal had been. It made him wonder again what his own wedding would be like as he was starting to gain much experience with different types of weddings.

The rest of the wedding party milled around the end of the aisle while Andrea and Mycroft spoke privately with the officiant, and Sherlock could see both Molly and Amanda glancing at Sherrinford with worried looks, as though they didn’t want him any closer.

“I mean, I can see how you and Mycroft are brothers, but your eldest brother is just a creep,” Molly said, rubbing her bare arms. Sherlock had brought a linen suit for the dinner and took off his suit jacket, draping it over her shoulders. Molly grinned at him quickly before putting her arms through the suit sleeves and then rubbing her arms again.

“I hear he’s been that way for most of his life,” Sherlock said. “It was rather something Mycroft was hoping he’d grow out of, but I doubt he’d planned on seeing him again in person ever again.”

“And you?”

“I barely have any solid memories of him, just rows between him and the rest of my family and a few fleeting interactions.” He put his arms on her waist and pulled her into his arms, running a hand up and down her back to warm her. The night wasn’t cold, but the breeze coming off the ocean wasn’t exactly warm. “I asked about him growing up but Mycroft would snap at me and my parents would change the subject. I know now that he stole money from them, and must have done more to get my brother’s ire more than I ever have.”

“But why is he here?” she asked.

“He told my father it was to repay the money he had stolen and try to make amends, but I doubt there’s any truth to that,” Sherlock said. “He’s on the run from people who want the money he stole from them and the secrets in his head, according to rumour. I still need to talk to Robert about what he found, but I had wanted to give you at least one day of fun in case it all goes to hell in a handbasket.”

“Thank you for that,” she said before leaning in and giving him a soft kiss. He kissed her back and only pulled back when he heard a chuckle from Sherrinford’s direction. He rested his forehead against Molly’s and resisted the urge to roll his eyes as his brother approached.

“Is it true that the best man and maid of honour have to have a fling? It’d be a bit awkward for some people if it was the maid of honour and groomsmen.”

“You’re foul,” Molly said, pulling away from Sherlock and glaring at Sherrinford. “Go crawl back into your hole.”

“Such a sassy mouth for a sweet looking girl,” Sherrinford said with a smirk.

“And she has such great skill with a scalpel that I’d worry about your bits and bobs,” Sherlock said. “Don’t underestimate her, Sherrinford, if you don’t want to lose something important to you.”

Sherrinford appeared to pale slightly and stop in his tracks a few feet away from them. “You would get a bird with bite,” he said.

“I carry a gun and I know how to use it,” Amanda said in his direction. “So don’t think of cornering me somewhere and having a try at me.”

Sherrinford held up his hands in front of him. “Point taken. There are other birds in the coop to have a go at.” He doffed the hat he was wearing towards them and then turned and walked back to the resort.

“What a prick,” Amanda murmured. She nudged Robert and he shook his head, grinning as he pulled out his pack. She got a lighter out of her dress pocket and lit up the cigarette, inhaling for a moment and then blowing out the smoke away from the others. “He gives me the creeps.”

“Me too,” Molly said, leaning into Sherlock. “Don’t you have enough dirt to get him to go yet?”

“Aunt Mildred says we need to keep him close. She’s gathering intelligence and making up the basis of a case to give to your friends,” Robert said. “There are enough people who want him back in England that he can rot in a deep dark hole for a bit while we get the intelligence we need from him, and then we can let him rot at Her Majesty’s Pleasure for a while.”

“That sounds better than having him on the loose,” Amanda said. “I know my sister would be happy if she could kick his arse for a bit first, though.” At Sherlock and Molly’s confused look she ashed her cigarette. “My sister was sent to Russia to deal with his mess. She barely made it out alive, and she’s in forced retirement now. She loved her job with MI-6 and the bastard...” She shut her eyes and took a deep breath. “At least she’s alive.”

“I’m sorry,” Sherlock said. He knew that someone had been injured in the process of dealing with his brother but he hadn’t realized it had led to her needing to retire. He knew, sadly, most agents didn’t live to retire, so as Amanda said, at least she was still alive.

“Not your fault, mate.” Amanda had another drag off the cigarette and then knelt down to put it out. “Never could finish a whole one of those. But when I get the creeps I just need something to steady the nerves.” At that point, they were joined by Andrea and Mycroft. “Andy, how much longer does the creep need to stay?”

“Until Aunt Mildred has things settled. Mycroft has promised Gregory that if he doesn’t get to stay for the wedding Sally can at least stay long enough to have a bit of a vacation. Right?” Mycroft nodded. “Ben is working his magic on gathering the video, Aunt Mildred is sorting out the paper trail so hopefully the rubbish will be gone before the hen night.”

“Maybe sooner if he paws at anyone,” Mycroft said grimly. “Fratricide is an option. Sherlock isn’t the only one who can beat a murder charge.”

“I had Mildred’s help,” Sherlock noted.

“As will I.” Mycroft reached over for Andrea’s hand. “We should head to the dinner now. There may be booze flowing freely and if Sherrinford is snooping...”

The others nodded and they began the walk to the resort, with Sherlock and Molly trailing behind the rest of them. After a moment Molly stopped and looked over at Sherlock. “Is it going to be safe to have Mary here?” she asked.

“What do you mean?” Sherlock asked.

“Well, she has her past and all, and if your brother deals in secrets, Mary has some big ones to keep, even with Magnussen dead. Just because he kept it all in his head...”

“Damn,” Sherlock said, shaking his head. In the happiness he’d felt knowing his friends would be arriving, he hadn’t even considered that. “Mary shouldn’t have to hide in a room.”

“Or maybe she’s here to celebrate after he leaves?” Molly asked. “I mean, she could be hiding just for a day or so, but not the entire time.”

“True,” Sherlock said with a frown. Then he sighed. “Why is this all so complicated?”

“Because it’s typical of the life you lead?” she said with a half-smile. She squeezed his hand. “We’ll all make the best of the situation, but I’ll admit, it’s going to be good to have them there.” She began to walk again, pulling him along, and he allowed himself to be lost in his thoughts for a time until he needed to put a smile on his face and do his best man duties. Then he cleared his mind and went about to the task, vowing to himself that if nothing else, he would not be a burden to Mycroft like their eldest brother was turning out to be.

[suffernotawitchtolive]

I don’t want to know who we are when we aren’t together || Self

The world spun around him, the scrapes felt like holes in his flesh. The pain had only been this bad once before. They had been torturing Joshua and then had killed Wren. This pain only compared to the look on Joshua’s face as he died. Of course Wren hadn’t stayed dead, but now he wished this pain was death. In the moment he wanted death. Joshua had turned on him. Joshua had protected the witch. Wren hadn’t even wanted to kill her. whether she continued to follow his trail or not, he wanted to quit hunting and settle down with Joshua. Maybe have a new parish, but Joshua wasn’t settling down with him. Joshua had betrayed him for Kouri.

The silence was ripped apart with a pained sob. Wren gripped his own hair as he leaned back against the truck. He had driven for hours to get away from the attack. To get away from Joshua. Had it been a ruse? Had he been trying to save Wren from her? Why would he attack Wren that way if it was to protect him?

Attacked him. Joshua attacked him to defend that girl. Joshua had shot him. Wren had broken the bolt and left most of it in his shoulder. the pain started to lace through his arm and chest, his tattoo kept throbbing as he sobbed. His sobs got the attention of the hunters he had driven to inside the safe house. 

He was covered in blood and starting to tremble violently. His arm was starting to lose function in the pain from the bolt and he was starting to feel dizzy. Joshua had shot him. Judas shot him. At least he wasn’t dead. But had he betrayed Wren or was he still protecting Wren. The ground spun up to meet him but was caught and carried inside.

He had woken up three days later. they had moved him to a different state. He was in a small clinic inside a small church. He guessed. With all the crosses and the saints on the white walls. It was a four bed clinic. No one else was in here. He knew this was a hunter recovery unit. A witness protection for him while he was injured. They would probably make him work here while he recovered. Little did they know, he would recover much faster than he should and he would be gone before they released him.

Now weeks had passed and no word came from Judas. She had bewitched him. That had to be it. Joshua wouldn’t do this.

Wren didn’t speak. He just answered the yes or no questions with a nod or shake of his head. Anything else got a polite nod or smile. He barely interacted with anyone and only did the bare minimum. He had been injured badly, emotionally and physically. this place was quiet and understanding. Beautiful and comfortable. He hated it. He would give any number of days here up to be with Joshua again one more time in that damn asylum. 

“Father.” He jumped, being caught off guard, a tear rolling down his cheek. It was a small, young, nun. He tilted his head to acknowledge her speaking to him, “Father. You’ve lost someone... and not to death. That’s how you came to us,isnt it?” She said softly to him. He looked down to the ground and gently brushed the tear off his face. 

She watched him in silence then started to play with a flower to give him a moment to himself in the most polite way she could, “That is why we are here. The Vatican send the injured home to be retired. you were intended for retirement. They know that you’ve lost someone important. I’m here to help you get them back. I am sister Lynn. Father Gregory is going to aid you as well as sisters Rita, and Gwen. Gwen is a mute as you are.” 

Wren shook his head, speaking softly, his voice quiet. He hadn’t ever heard it so quiet before yet so clear,” I’m not mute, Sister. I didn’t mean to be rude. I just had nothing to say.” 

“You do now, and it wasn’t that.” She looked down,” You’re going to tell me you do not need help. this is why the Vatican sends the wounded home. Sends those who have lost others to us. We are here specifically for rescue missions. You’re going to tell us to stay here. That is why we can’t. The Vatican sent you to us to make sure this is a recuse mission and not a revenge mission.” She lay a hand on his arm as he started to feel the air being forced from him. They weren’t going to let him kill Kouri, and his injuries were not great enough for him to be retired. Judas had wounds to great to keep hunting so they would either retire him, or worse, since he wasn’t of use to them anymore and all supernaturals were blasphemy. He couldn’t let them get Judas in their hands.

“I can’t save him.” She seemed shocked. A priest in love was something that sometimes happened, and love had been what they saw him grieving. A priest in love with a man was more taboo than the killing they did, “We can’t save him. He doesn’t wish to be saved. I can no longer fight. The Vatican made a poor judgement on this one. I’m too injured. you’ve seen my shoulder. I can’t move this arm at all. It was ruined in the fight.”

“you have spent more words making excuses than anything else you have said here. Father. Your in the protection of the church and all of those you keep are now as well. The church will cause you no grief. After we retrieve the one you lost, you are both retired. He has done amazing work for the Vatican under your guidance. This is a true rescue and release mission. They reviewed your report of the Asylum. Great work.” She almost blushed. He was a legend, honestly. their best hunter. He had done better work at the asylum than anyone there had known.

Wren smiled bitterly and squinted to the sun above them. It was a cool day. Not cool enough to keep the snow from melting once the sun got higher. Right now the snow was still freshly fallen at their feet on the sides of the path. Just freshly cleaned. Had been cold enough to snow but somehow not cold enough to kill the flowers.

"Youre new here, Sister. You were given orders to aid me in finding the ome I lost. You are to aid me in saving him. You didnt know it was a him, you dont have a name yet or you would be skeptical of saving him. Father has different orders. Je is a fore extinguisher. He is to escalate the situation until the only line of action... is to kill me and the one I have lost in the process of 'saving' either you or humself or one of the others. He may kill the girl who has my friend captive. He may not. She isnt on their radar yet. I didnt think she was a threat so never reported her." He started to walk, hands clasped at his back.

"I... father Wren, that's not..." she stammered as she followed. He spun on her, making eye contact and started to compel her.

"Forget this conversation. You havent seen me this morning. You will go to find me in my room. Go on." He watched as she calmly turned and went the other direction. His tattoo chastised him for letting her go. A witch. A fire extinguisher here to redeem herself to the church. Or another soul to sacrifice to the church as Wren had done over and over. It didnt matter to him. She would have died in the field. They wouldnt let her get to her second mission.

He had overturned his room. Made it look like a major struggle. Broken bed, broken desk. There was a broken bookcase and papers thrown around, curtains burned and torn. He avoided everyone as they ran to see what had happened. He made it to his truck and used magic to start it, he disnt know where they hid his keys.

He had to go save Judas. Reverse whatever spell kouri had put on him. It had to be a spell. Had to be. Joshua would never turn on him for her. Not after all they had been through. Not after all he had put Joshua through. Not after...

Wren couldnt think about this any other way. Not now. He had to concentrate and had to think of how to actually fight Joshua this time even though Joshua wasnt going to hold back like Wren had to.

As he drove he muttered a spell, A delayed spell that set off bombs he had planted in the church. There were areas he knew no one would be this early in the morning and he had planted them there to keep the church away. He knew that the Vtican wanted to retire him. He knew that meant theg wanted him dead. True retirement came after long trials. Sitting and reporting to the vatican in person. Presenting your case and begging for it. Most of the time if you were Wrens age, you were denied. Judas was even younger and an abomination. Wren had always known they wouldnt reture Judas.

He winced and held his own shoulder. The pain was lacing its way down his arm, years springing to his eyes. Judas had shot him. Had been stating at him and not recognised him. Judas had shot at him and sent him away, protecting his childhood...

"Stop it, Wren." He told himself aloud," Stop thinking that way. There was no way she could turn him. He knew the blood and gore on my hands. He knew it all. I told him. He had hated me for it but we had worked it out. We were okay. We were in live. He would never turn on me."

Unless she told him how her family had been innocent and she had been run out of her families home. Had been orphaned by her priest. Unless he had once loved this girl and now reunited, he loved her more. Or just plain loved her. Didnt live Wren and finally figured it out. Wren sobbed.

"Im his mission." A cry ripped from his chest. Judas wouldnt do this to him. No matter what. He had never given up on Wren. Judas should have. The moment Wren doubted him, used him, ruined him. Wren sobbed even harder but he had to keep driving.

He could feel blood running down his arm but instead of giving in to the pain, he used it. He started to mutter a spell the blood laying into the shape of his tattoo until a name struck him. He knew where Judas was. He was going to save him. No matter the cost.

The cost could be Judas. That was right. If he killed Kouri while Judas was under the spell he would be stuck under the spell. He had to break it. That was clever. She knew he couldnt kill her until she removed the spell. Never remove the spell, never die. Leverage.

Wren had to make a backup plan. Had to fix this. He had to.

Finally after a day and a night he pulled over and fell asleep in the cab of his truck, blood dried on his arm and side making his shirt stick to him in the cold. He slept, almost as if at peace. He knew what was coming. He prayed he was wrong. His dreams told him he wasnt.

The windshield cracked.

@tattoobruised

@pride-and-wrathfulness

@alexanderforhire

[legendofzeldaalinktothepast]

Opalescent Tides - Chapter 6

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter 

Having woken up only a mere few hours ago, and not having much to do at the house, Amethyst decided to head out to the boardwalk and help out at Steven's lemonade stand. For the most part, that just involved keeping him company, since running a lemonade stand wasn't very busy work -- but at one point, she had to stare down a group of teenagers who were snickering and eyeing his jar of quarters.

"Kids can be such pricks..." Amethyst grumbled once they were out of sight. She glanced back down at the magazine in her lap, flipping to the next page.

"Hey, I'm a kid too, ya know." Steven stuck a tongue out at her.

"Yeah, but you're an exception." Amethyst smirked, swatting a mosquito away from her arm. 

"Oh no!" Steven gasped. "The mosquitoes are out already? That means..." He glanced at his Burger King wrist watch. "It's almost seven! We gotta pack up; Dad doesn't like when I'm late for dinner."

"Alrighty, kiddo." Amethyst pulled herself to her feet. "You make any money today?"

"Yeah! A whole lot, actually! There's probably like... five dollars in here!" he said, placing the lid on the jar of coins and screwing it on tight. "I'm gonna get that new bike in no time!"

"Hell yeah, you are." Amethyst said. She poured the remaining lemonade into paper cup -- there was just enough left to fill it up -- and took a few sips. “Here ya go.” She handed the rest to Steven, who eagerly finished it up.

Steven folded up his little plastic chair and slung it over his shoulder, and Amethyst put the lemonade supplies into the cardboard box he used as his “stand”, and the two of them made their way back to the house.

The sun was still high in the sky, but the chirping crickets assured them that it was night time. A handful of tourists still walked up and down the streets, but less than there had been earlier in the day; and as they turned down the road to Steven's house, there was even less traffic.

“Hey!” a voice called.

Amethyst and Steven both jumped in surprise. They looked around, but didn’t see anyone nearby "W-what was that?" Steven asked, his voice wavering.

"Eh... probably nothing. Let's just go." Amethyst said, urging Steven forward. But then, they heard a thud, followed by the sound of a rolling garbage can.

A tall, beautiful woman emerged from the alley. As Amethyst's eyes adjusted to the dim light, she saw that she was tan and muscular, and she had vitiligo, with patches of paler skin on her arms and face. Her eyes reflected a bright golden-amber as she gazed in their direction, and upon seeing Amethyst, her slit-like pupils widened. "What the hell are you doing here?" Jasper hissed, slowly approaching them.

Steven hid behind Amethyst, and the latter clenched her fists at her sides -- though she clearly didn't stand a chance against a woman twice her size, she at least tried to look threatening. "Um, what are you doing?" she responded, her voice cracking. "I don't know about you, but I'm just walking this kid home, and in case you can't tell, you're making him pretty nervous. So can you chill?"

Jasper glared from Amethyst to Steven, and then back to Amethyst. An expression of realization spread across her face. "Of course. I should've expected you to sink this low..." she groaned, shaking her head in shame. "Do you at least know where Pink is?"

"I don't know who or what that is." Amethyst said, reaching back to pat Steven on the shoulder as she heard him whimper again. "Now can you leave us alone?"

Jasper snickered. "Whatever. I knew you'd be useless. Good luck, Amethyst." And with that, she continued on her way down the street.

'What the hell...?' Amethyst thought. 'How did she know my name...?' But she shook it off as she felt Steven cling to her, and gave him a gentle hug in an attempt to comfort him. "It's alright, buddy." she reassured. “Look, we're almost home. That lady was just kinda rude, but she didn't seem like she wanted to hurt us."

"O-okay." Steven whimpered. He clutched his jar of quarters close to his chest as if his life depended on it. He quickened up his pace, his little flip-flops flapping hard on the pavement until they reached the front porch of his house.

* 

As soon as they were inside, Steven barreled straight towards Rose and pulled her into a tight embrace.

"Oh, hello!" Rose chuckled, awkwardly patting his back. "You alright, honey? It's not even seven yet, you didn't have to bolt home that fast..."

"Amethyst, tell her what happened!" Steven said, burying his face into his mother's shoulder.

Amethyst blushed. "Oh, uh... There was just some lady who came up to us while we were walking home. She was kicking garbage cans around, and was kinda rude to me... But I don't think she meant any real harm. Steven's just a little shaken up, that's all."

"You were scared, too." Steven pouted. "It wasn't just me."

"Yeah, yeah." Amethyst snorted, patting Steven on the head.

"Well, we're going to be on the safe side, alright?" Rose’s voice was soft and reassuring, and she tilted Steven's head upright so she could look into his eyes. "How about I walk you home tomorrow?" she suggested. "No offense, Amethyst. But I'm probably a little more intimidating than you and Greg combined."

"Nah, I get it. I'm about as threatening as a marshmallow." Amethyst snorted.

"Hah, that’s what I always say!" Greg called from the kitchen.

Talking about marshmallows only reminded her of how hungry she was, so she made her way towards the kitchen and peered into the boiling pot on the stove. "So what's for dinner today, Gregory?”

"Oh, just some spaghetti." he said, pouring the long, twig-shaped noodles into the boiling water. "So... what'd this girl look like?"

"She was tall, buff, had really long blonde hair... Oh, and uh..." Amethyst climbed up onto the counter, sitting near the stove so she could watch Greg more easily. "She talked to me like she knew me. Like, she asked me what I was doing here? And then called me by my name... It was really weird. But I can't remember where I'd have met her before. That said, I barely remember anything."

"Hmm..." Greg hummed to himself as he reached for a wooden spoon, stirring the pot of water. "That is pretty weird."

"Yeah. And then she started asking me about someone named 'Pink'? Or something, even?" Amethyst continued. She picked up a stray piece of spaghetti from the counter and bent it in her hands until it snapped. "Do you know what 'Pink' is? In this context, I mean. Obviously I know it's a color, heh.”

Greg went silent. For a moment, Amethyst wondered if she'd said something wrong -- but his eyes were cast downward, so she couldn't quite read his expression. Then, he let out an exhale, and finally broke the awkward silence. "Maybe, uh... Steven shouldn't stay out as late tomorrow." he finally said. "Could you make sure he's home by five? And maybe he should do his lemonade stand on our street for a while... I don't know if I want him in the middle of town all by himself."

Damn, that was early. Especially for a kid on summer vacation... But she wasn't one to tell Greg how to parent his son, so she wasn't going to question it. Still... His tone of voice changed completely after mentioning the whole "Pink" thing. She was tempted to ask why that was, but... Greg was busy, and he already looked pretty uneasy.

"Yeah, don't worry. I'll make sure he's safe."

* 

"Ughh, this sucks..." Steven whined, burying his face into his arms. "Ever since I moved my stand, sales have been terrible! Can you pleeeease tell my dad I'm not scared anymore?"

"I ain't your mom, so I don’t get a say in this. And I think he's got a good point, anyway." Amethyst said, leaning against a nearby telephone pole. "Besides, it's not just about being scared. If there's shady people walking around town and nobody's nearby to keep you safe, they might try to steal your hard earned money -- or even snatch you up. And you don't want that, do ya?"

"I guess not..." Steven sighed, resting his chin in his hands.

"And you know what else?" Amethyst said. "With your stand closer to home, you won't have to walk as far whenever you need to get more lemonade!"

"Yeah, I guess that's true." Steven smiled a little. "Oh, by the way -- can you bring this to Garnet and Pearl?" He poured some lemonade into two cups, handing them over to Amethyst. "Since they're so close by, I might as well treat them!”

"No problem, kiddo." Amethyst said. She grabbed the lemonade and made her way to the store across the street, pushing the door open with her knee.

"Special delivery!" she announced.

"Oh! Hello there!" Pearl greeted with a warm smile; it made Amethyst’s heart flutter in her chest. Over these past few weeks, they'd only talked every now and then... And she'd tried to forget those little butterflies she'd felt back at the pool party, but every time she set foot in this store and met those pretty blue eyes and freckled cheeks, they came right back and threatened to burst out of her chest.

"I brought you guys some lemonade." Amethyst said, setting the two cups on the counter. "Or, well, Steven sent me over. I won't take credit, heh.”

"Well, thank you very much." Pearl said. She wiped sweat from her forehead -- geez, she felt bad for her, having to work in such a hot store all day -- and took a big sip.

"So, uh, where's Garnet?" Amethyst asked; only then had she realized she was alone in the store, and that only made her butterflies multiply.

"She's on her break right now. But I'll be sure to bring this to her!" Pearl giggled.

"Ohh, gotcha." Amethyst responded. Another awkward silence filled the room as Pearl drank the rest of her lemonade.

"Well... I'm gonna head out, then." she said, turning and heading towards the door. Pearl tensed, and set her cup back down on the counter. "Ah, before you go..."

Amethyst froze. 'Shit. I was so close.'

"I was wondering..." Pearl began, wringing her hands as she stepped out from behind the counter. "Maybe one of these days, we could go for a walk together?" she said. "It probably seems out of nowhere, and I know we don't know each other very well, but... I think if we had a chance to talk, just the two of us... Some things might make a little more sense. It might help me deal with... Ah, it's something that'll take a lot of explaining. And... I-I know we had a rather rocky start, but..."

Amethyst's heart sank down to her stomach. 'Oh shit. Oh shit oh shit oh shit. She's gonna talk about the mermaid stuff, isn't she?' she thought, glancing down at her legs. When was the next full moon again? Had a month passed already? She wasn't sure, but... She also couldn't think of an excuse to get out of it.

"Um... sure!" Amethyst finally responded, turning her gaze back up to Pearl. "That'd be nice. Just like... a walk through town? Or by the beach?"

"Perhaps the beach... If you don't mind. I find it very peaceful at night..." Pearl said with a sigh of content.

"Alright! Uh... how about tonight?" At least she could be pretty sure there wouldn't be a full moon tonight; otherwise, Rose would have probably mentioned something about it, especially since Steven was involved.

"That would work." Pearl smiled warmly. "Thank you again for the lemonade. Tell Steven it was very refreshing!"

"Will do! Toodles.” Amethyst gave her a thumbs up, and then hurried out the door before Pearl could try to stop her again.

As much as her fear gripped at her chest... the butterflies were still there, too. 'Maybe they're not so bad...' she thought, taking a deep breath before heading back across the street.

[bylagunabay]

Saint Michael’s Sword Prayer

In PLAGUE, WAR and SPIRITUAL COMBAT

In three instances, St. Michael powerfully intervened to stop a plague, save a soldier from imminent death, and assist a priest hasten the expulsion of a demon from a possessed lady through the use of his sword. But before reading this edifying accounts, let us first pray to St. Michael …

 ST. MICHAEL’S SWORD PRAYER

O Glorious Saint Michael the Archangel, to whom was given

the Sword by the Eternal Father of the celestial realm,

fight all spirit of ruin in our country, in our families,

in our minds and in our hearts.

 O Glorious Saint Michael wield your victorious Sword on our behalf

so that we may overcome all destructive spirits that seek to lead us

away from Sanctifying Grace, and lead us to final victory.

 Come Glorious St. Michael, flash your Sword with a ray from the Holy Spirit

so that we may be worthy of the promises of our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.

 PLAGUE IN ROME 600 AD

During a plague which greatly depopulated the city of Rome, Pope Gregory I (Gregory the Great) ordered a penitential procession in which he himself carried a statue of the Blessed Virgin. As the procession reached the bridge across the Tiber, the singing of angels was heard. Suddenly Gregory saw an apparition of a gigantic archangel, Michael, descending upon the mausoleum of Emperor Hadrian. IN HIS RIGHT HAND, MICHAEL HELD A SWORD, WHICH HE THRUST INTO ITS SCABARD. Gregory took the vision as an omen that the plague would stop, which it did, and so he renamed the mausoleum the Castel Sant' Angelo (Castle of the Holy Angel) in Michael's honor.

(lenarpoetry.blogspot)

 KOREAN WAR 1950

(3.5-minute read)

By his intervention, St. Michael has been protecting many military personnel around the world from harm and death.

 One account of Saint Michael’s protection is that of a young United States Marine, who prayed to him every morning. Separated from his unit after a blizzard during the Korean War, he was caught face to face with seven enemy soldiers who had guns drawn ready to fire. Only thanks to the Archangel did he miraculously survive the ensuing shootout. The prayer the soldier said daily is known as the "Michael of the Morning" prayer:

 Michael, Michael of the morning,

Fresh corps of Heaven adorning,

Keep me safe today,

And in time of temptation

Drive the devil away.

Amen.

 That soldier, who renames nameless, recounted the miraculous tale in a letter to his mother as he recovered in a hospital. I quote verbatim the relevant portion of his letter …

 “We are going to have some trouble up ahead.” (St. Michael speaking.)

 He must have been in fine physical shape or he was breathing so lightly I couldn’t see his breath. Mine poured out in great clouds. There was no smile on his face now. Trouble ahead, I thought to myself, well with the Commies all around us, that is no great revelation. Snow began to fall in great thick globs. In a brief moment the whole countryside was blotted out. And I was marching in a white fog of sticky particles. My companion disappeared.

 “Michael,” I shouted in sudden alarm.

 I felt his hand on my arm, his voice was rich and strong, “This will stop shortly.”

 His prophecy proved to be correct. In a few minutes the snow stopped as abruptly as it had begun. The sun was a hard shining disc. I looked back for the rest of the patrol, there was no one in sight. We lost them in that heavy fall of snow. I looked ahead as we came over a little rise.

 Mom, my heart stopped. There were seven of them. Seven Commies in their padded pants and jackets and their funny hats. Only there wasn’t anything funny about them now. Seven rifles were aimed at us.

 “Down Michael,” I screamed and hit the frozen earth.

 I heard those rifles fire almost as one. I heard the bullets. There was Michael still standing. Mom, those guys couldn’t have missed, not at that range. I expected to see him literally blown to bits. But there he stood, making no effort to fire himself. He was paralyzed with fear. It happens sometimes, Mom, even to the bravest. He was like a bird fascinated by a snake. At least, that was what I thought then. I jumped up to pull him down and that was when I got mine I felt a sudden flame in my chest. I often wondered what it felt like to be hit, now I know..

 I remember feeling strong arms around me, arms that laid me ever so gently on a pillow of snow. I opened my eyes, for one last look. I was dying. Maybe I was even dead, I remember thinking well, this is not so bad. Maybe I was looking into the sun. Maybe I was in shock. But it seemed I saw Michael standing erect again only this time his face was shining with a terrible splendor. As I say, maybe it was the sun in my eyes, but he seemed to change as I watched him. He grew bigger, his arms stretched out wide, maybe it was the snow falling again, but there was a brightness around him like the wings of an angel. IN HIS HANDS WAS A SWORD. A SWORD THAT FLASHED WITH A MILLION LIGHTS. Well, that is the last thing I remember until the rest of the fellas came up and found me. I do not know how much time had passed. Now and then I had but a moment’s rest from the pain and fever. I remember telling them of the enemy just ahead.

 “Where is Michael,” I asked.

 I saw them look at one another. “Where’s who?” asked one.

 “Michael, Michael the big Marine I was walking with just before the snow squall hit us.”

 “Kid,” said the sergeant, “You weren’t walking with anyone. I had my eyes on you the whole time. You were getting too far out. I was just going to call you in when you disappeared in the snow.”

 He looked at me, curiously. “How did you do it kid?”

 “How’d I do what?” I asked half angry despite my wound. “This marine named Michael and I were just …”

 “Son,” said the sergeant kindly, ” I picked out this outfit myself and there just ain’t another Michael in it. You are the only Mike in it.

 He paused for a minute, “Just how did you do it kid? We heard shots. There hasn’t been a shot fired from your rifle. And there isn’t a bit of lead in them seven bodies over the hill there.”

 I didn’t say anything, what could I say. I could only look open-mouthed with amazement.

 It was then the sergeant spoke again, “Kid,” he said gently, “every one of those seven Commies was killed by a sword stroke.”

 Link: https://ucatholic.com/blog/the-miraculous-true-story-of-saint-michael-saving-a-us-marine-in-the-korean-war/

 EXORCISM 2019

Fr. Michel Rodrigue, exorcist and founder and Abbott of The Apostolic Fraternity of St. Benedict Joseph Labre (Quebec, Canada), recounted his experience with St. Michael during a difficult exorcism.

 "I know the devil because of the exorcisms I’ve done in my life. During one exorcism, I didn’t have too much time because I had to teach a course to the seminarian. With exorcisms, you never know when you’re going to finish. It depends on the will of the Father. Sometimes it can take one day, two days. Sometimes it can be three weeks. Sometimes it can be two years. This is a ministry. When you begin this ministry, you never know when it ends.

 I went to pray to Jesus at the Tabernacle and said to Him, 'You must do something. I don’t have any more time, and I cannot come back again because it is far.' I also asked Saint Michael for his help. I was so tired and didn’t think I could finish. Exorcisms can be very depleting.

 When I entered the room and started the exorcism prayer again, Saint Michael appeared. He was so tall. I SAW HIM WITH HIS SWORD, A FLAMING SWORD, REACHING UP ABOUT FIFTEEN FEET HIGH.

 I said, 'Please Saint Michael, you’re my patron. Help me with this case!' He just smiled. Then I saw him lower his sword coming down and when the flame of Saint Michael’s sword touched this person, the wind of the devil left. [Fr. Michel made a swoosh sound]."

(Jesusmariasite)

[cgswapjplau]

Steven Universe JPL AU: S1 Chapter 1, Lotus Light Trebuchet

Lapis flew towards the boardwalk, Steven perched on her back excitedly. She stopped a few feet away from Fryman's, hovering above the dock so Steven could climb off. He panted as he ran up to the booth, craving a food only Fryman could supply.

"Fryman, gimme the bits!" He called out.

Fryman rolled his eyes with a half smile. "You know we're closed."

"Come on, Fry, give him the bits!" Lapis protested good-naturedly.

"The bits, the bits, the bits, the bits," the lapis lazuli chanted eagerly.

"The bits, the bits, the bits, the bits!" Steven joined in, stars in his eyes.

They repeated it a few more times, until Fryman couldn't take it anymore.

"Alright, alright! Just stop it! Your scaring away the customers."

Lapis looked around, and back at Fryman.

"What customers?"

Steven gasped and giggled into his hand.

Fryman scoffed. "And let me guess, your usual?"

"Uh huh, but two milkshakes instead of one." Lapis answered.

"If you want, I can give you regular fries." He told Steven.

The boy shook his head. "Nope! Just the bits, please!"

Fryman put the fry bits into a bag and handed them to Steven, giving Lapis her milkshakes.

"Thanks, Fry! See you later!" The two said in unison.

Steven climbed onto Lapis' back, and she took off.

"Ah, sunset. My favorite time of day. The sun goes down, and the second sun gets bigger and bigger in the sky!" The half gem exclaimed, looking up at the sky.

Lapis snickered, some of her milkshake spilling out of the container. She used her powers to catch it before it hit the ground and put it back into the shake.

"Yeah, sure. Just love that secon-" Lapis gasped, dropping the whole shake. She used to powers to retrieve it yet again.

"It's here." She whispered, looking up to see a giant thing in the sky.

"Wait, what is?" Steven asked, before Lappis zipped home, Steven holding on to her sleeve for dear life. "Aw, my bits!"

"Well, we're cracked." Jasper muttered. She was standing outside of the house, next to Peridot, who was peering into a telescope. The peridot also had various electronic machines that she kept typing in and adding data to.

"I wish I had never given those an upgrade." She said in a low voice.

"Jasper! Peri!" Lapis called, landing next to them. Steven climbed off of her.

"Yeah, yeah. We saw, Lazuli." Peridot answered. "Some of us are busy protecting Earth. Where were you?"

Lapis rolled her eyes, but Steven saw the hurt look on her face.

"Getting snacks." Lapis said with a smile, quickly recovering. "But look, Peri, I got you a milkshake!"

Peridot took the shake that had never fallen out of the lapis' hand gingerly and took a small sip. She turned away with a small smile.

"Your drink wasn't," Peridot told Lapis with an uncomfortable cough. "Horrible. Thank you."

Lapis crossed her arms with a smile. "Aw, you know you love me. Admit you like it."

Steven changed the subject. "Ooh, can I see?" He asked enthusiastically, grabbing the telescope. "Woah, it's a giant eyeball! So cool!"

Peridot turned away from Lapis and eyed Steven. "No, not cool."

"That thing's a Red Eye." Jasper explained.

"A Red Eye? Oh, no! It's going to infect us all!" Steven yelled.

"Ugh, Steven, that's pink eye." Peridot said.

Lapis and Jasper snickered.

"It's headed for Beach City, and it's going to crush us all." Jasper informed Steven, not seeming that concerned about the situation.

"Along with a bunch of humans, ducks, and mice, and other things!" Lapis added. She looked behind her, shooing away a squirrel and lizard behind her. "Save yourselves." She whispered dramatically with a snicker.

"But how are we supposed to stop it?" Steven asked nervously.

"Rose's trebuchets are the only thing powerful enough to stop it, but they're both nowhere to be found." Jasper replied.

"Wait, they belonged to Mom? Then maybe Dad has them!" Steven lit up.

The three gems looked at each other for a moment, averting their gaze from Steven awkwardly.

"Gregory is nice." Peridot stated with a clearing of the throat.

"But if he had it, he either lost it or broke it. Or I took it." Lapis finished shamelessly.

"No, guys. I bet he's just keeping it somewhere safe!" Steven protested.

"Okay, Steven, you can go ask, but be quick." Jasper agreed.

"Lapis, go with him. If Greg doesn't have it, look in your room." Peridot added.

"If you don't see them, one of Peridot's inventions that are in your room could be useful." The quartz said.

"Fine, but we are NOT using one of my meep-morps to destroy that thing." Lapis snapped.

"But I think we handle it, Steven. Ready?" Lapis asked Peridot, before flying her up to the Red Eye. They flew steadily towards the strange spheroid.

"Okay, I'm fine! Let me go!" Peridot told her as they reached the eyeball.

"If you say so." Lapis replied with a smirk, dropping Peridot into the ocean.

"Ugh, Jasper, just throw me at it instead!" Peridot called.

Jasper nodded.

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

Steven and Lapis were in front of It's A Wash, looking at a van.

"Dad, wake up! Dad!" Steven yelled, pounding on the car door. "We have to save the town!"

"Yo, Gregory, wake up!" Lapis called.

Steven grunted and he pounded and shook the van, crawling onto the hood to bang on it. He climbed onto the top, jumping up and down. Just as he was giving up, throwing himself on the van dramatically, the car alarm started. Steven's face brightened as he turned to look at the back doors of the vehicle.

Greg Universe burst out of the automotive, with a weapon at the ready. "Who's there? I've got a frying pan and I'm not afraid to us-"

Greg spotted Lapis and calmed instantly. "Oh, hey, Lapis." He greeted her, shutting off the car alarm.

"Dad! It's me!" Steven called, stumbling off the van.

"Hey there, Schtu-ball." Greg said, giving his son a hug.

"We're looking for Rose's trebuchets." Lapis told him.

"What? Why?" Greg asked.

"To stop that eyeball over there!" His son answered helpfully, pointing at the sky.

Greg and Lapis looked up to see Peridot being thrown at the Red Eye. She collided into it with a big crash, and then fell in the water.

His dad grinned. "I know where they might be."

______________

"It's a shed, for storage." Greg told Steven, pushing up the garage door. Steven's face fell a little as the door opened to reveal a normal looking shed. His face quickly brightened as he got to work.

"If I'm gonna go in there, I'm gonna need some gear," Steven mused. He tied a flashlight to his head with a sock. Lapis snorted and tied a rope to him.

"Gotta go!" Steven exclaimed as he crawled inside the shed.

"Good luck!" Lapis and Greg told him.

Soon, he came across a box. "Dad, I found a bunch of copies of your old CD!" Greg smiled from outside the shed. "Oh man, I couldn't give those away. You know, before I rented the car wash, when I was a one-man band, I traveled the country!"

"I know, Dad." The half-gem answered with a chuckle.

"When I had my concert in Beach City, no one showed up, except-"

"A dragon!" Steven cheered, interrupting his father.

"No, it was your mother." Lapis told him with a small smile.

Steven laughed, "I know!"

"And me, but I was a swan at the time, so I guess that doesn't count." The lapis lazuli reasoned. "Gregory and Rose were always together after that."

His dad smiled sadly. "Until she gave up her physical form to bring you into the world."

As Greg rambled on, Steven stepped on a frame, with a picture of his father and mother inside. He gasped,

"Dad, I broke your picture frame!" Steven told Greg.

"It's okay, Schtu-ball. Remember, if every pork chop were perfect-"

"We wouldn't have hot dogs!" Lapis and Steven finished.

When the two finished the phrase, two identical catapults glowed simultaneously, but only one was in the shed.

Steven noticed it. "Huh?" Suddenly, the boy's eyes went wide with recognition. A massive siege weapon towered over the crouching child, pale pink and decorated with petal shaped molding. A lotus-like spherical bullet was already equipped, as if the dirt-encrusted engine had been waiting. Steven sweeped off the dust with one hand.

"One of the ter-butch-ays." He murmured.

"It's trebuchet." Lapis corrected him.

"Lapis, Dad, I found one!" Steven cried.

"Keep looking for the other!" Lapis instructed him.

After a thorough search, Steven could see they should try somewhere else.

"Well, Steven, guess it's time to look at my place." Lapis said casually.

"I'll drive you," Greg added.

They loaded the weapon into a wagon that was tied to the back of the van, and then sat inside. Greg got in the driver's seat, and started the car.

"This is freaking me out!" Greg exclaimed.

"Can't the van go any faster? We've gotta get go the beach!" Steven said impatiently.

"This is faster!" His father answered.

"Come on, let's put on your CD." Lapis suggested from the backseat.

Steven put in the CD and started to sing along.

Greg parked, and Lapis put the trebuchet on the shore, where Peridot was being yeeted at the Red Eye the twentieth time that day. Steven and Lapis climbed onto the porch and entered the house.

Lapis guided Steven past the living room and kitchen, and up to an elevator. She pressed the down button. A scanner popped up, and Lapis turned around so her gem would be visible. "Whoa," Steven thought aloud. A small ding could be heard, and the frame rotated multiple times, before stopping so that a door with a lapis lazuli gem and water on it could be seen.

The pair entered the elevator. The doors closed, and the elevator went down quickly. Steven yelped and grabbed onto Lapis, who didn't seem bothered by the stomach-churning drop. The elevator slowed to a stop, and the walls turned translucent. A circular waterfall surrounded the elevator, and parted when the elevator doors opened. When the two stepped out, Steven gasped in awe.

The room they entered was like a paradise, with seafoam green grass, ponds, trees, and a pink and orange 'sky'. A section where two short pale blue translucent walls made a corner and a small area of floor was filled with with chests. Small mechanical animals lived in trees and burrows. The whole place had art supplies scattered around on the ground.

"This is your room in the temple?" Steven asked in awe.

"Yup, and I know just where to find the other trebuchet."

____________

"Come on, Dad!" Steven called. He and Lapis were pushing one trebuchet towards the other Crystal Gems, and Steven wanted his dad to be a part of this mission.

His dad followed, helping the two transport the other siege weapon.

Finally spotting them, Jasper looked at the three curiously, and her eyes widened when they started to wheel the trebuchets over, still attached to the van. Peridot looked up from where she had ended up when she was swept up by the tide in awe, but quickly composing herself.

"Good. You guys are here." Peridot said shortly, moving towards the weapons. "There are over one septillion possible combinations of letters, sounds, and numbers, and the Red Eye is almost here."

Lapis exhaled anxiously. "Well, then, we'd better star-" She gasped.

They all looked up to see pieces of the roof shingles breaking off and attaching to the Red Eye. Across town, Fryman's sign was ripping apart, and he yelped in vain, attempting to grab it before it flew away. The statue of Angel Aura broke a fingernail.

"Hurry!" Jasper yelled in alarm, moving the cannon into place.

"What could the password be?" Steven asked.

"This was Rose's, not mine!" Peridot snapped before calming down.

"Dad?" He turned to his father, who shrugged. "Lapis? Jasper?" Steven swiveled to meet the eyes of the pair, who clung to each other in fear, before shaking off each other's grasp. Lapis looked down in defeat, while Jasper turned away. Next to them, Peridot had an epiphany.

"Steven!" She called desperately, grabbing his shoulder and turning him towards her. "You have her gem!"

Lapis rushed over, rubbing Steven's gem against the trebuchets. Peridot slapped her hand with a smirk. "Really?" She turned serious. "It's no use!"

"Forget that. Throw me again." Peridot suggested unenthusiastically, allowing Jasper to scoop her up.

"That's not going to work!" Lapis protest

The wagon holding the trebuchet sank into the dirt, moving Steven around, who was still clung to it. "Whoa!"

"I've got this." Greg said, unlatching the trebuchet. The van slid across the beach, towards the Eye. Steven's father yanked on the rope, trying to reel the van in unsuccessfully.

"Never mind, maybe I don't!" Greg yelped, being pulled to the Red Eye.

"Please work," Steven pleaded to the trebuchets. "Unlock! Activate! Come on!"

"Go! Please?" He continued. "Everyone's counting on you two! You can't just be useless! I know you guys can help!"

"Don't worry, Steven." Lapis reassured him.

"We'll find something else!" Greg added.

A wobbly smile stretched across Steven's face. "Oh, right! If every porkchop were perfect, we wouldn't have hot dogs!"

The trebuchets started to glow. The gems and his father looked on in shock.

"It's working!" Jasper exclaimed.

The petals started to open like two blooming roses, and the weights on both sunk down. The sudden decrease in balance launched two lotus flower bullets into the air. They circled each other, shining, before combing to form a pink light silhouette of a familiar woman. She struck the Red Eye, exploding it. There was a bright glow, and when it faded, the woman was gone.

Debris rained on the town. A piece crashed into the boardwalk, next to Fryman. A car was inside the hole, its alarm shrieking loudly.

"Steven, you saved most of Beach City!" Lapis applauded.

"Sorry!" Steven called.

Fryman didn't hear him. "What?"

"How'd you activate the trebuchets?" Peridot asked.

"I just said the thing Dad always says."

"And before you ask, yes, the thing about pork rinds." Jasper told her, amused.

"Hot dogs." Lapis corrected simply.

Greg wiped a tear from his eye. "Rose."

The tide came in, returning Greg's van apologetically.

"My van!" Greg cried.

"It's okay, dad." Steven soothed.

"If every porkchop were perfect-" Lapis started.

"I live in there!" Greg shrieked, before running into the water after it.

[coffee-obsessed-writer]

The New World - Part 8 (Teaser)

Sorry for the delay in the new chapter, to make amends and beg for your forgiveness, here is a little teaser for what’s to come in the next chapter... 

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

Daryl x Reader, Morgan x Reader

Warnings: Fluff, Language, Canon-divergence

Words: 1370

PREVIOUSLY ON...

“So, are you going to show me to my new home, or…. Do you wanna sit out here under the moonlight and remind me of what it means to be a fucking man?! Cause, no offense buddy, you really aren’t my fucking type. I was hopin’ for someone with more…” Negan dramatically made curves of a woman with his hands while licking his lips.

“Uh, follow me. Your quarters are all ready,” Gregory responded nervously, and stepped quickly towards the back passage into The Hilltop.

“And, where is our lord and savior this evening? Has he fled the grounds yet to help all those poor fucking souls in need?” Negan inquired, casually sauntering behind Gregory and watching the man like a hawk.

“Yes, Jesus has left for The Kingdom as planned. I imagine they are all there now trying to sort it out.”

“Oh, I imagine that they fucking are, Gregory,” Negan purred to himself, a feeling of satisfaction settling into his core. “I imagine they are.”

Standing at the gates of The Kingdom, everyone that was going to Alexandria was packed and ready to head out. Ezekiel was reviewing orders with Jerry and Morgan to decree during his absence, while Shiva basked in the sun watching as Maggie and Glenn distracted Abe and Shelby while you could have a moment alone with Daryl.

He was nervous. Daryl didn’t get nervous very often and you chalked it up to him leaving you and the children behind. Chewing his bottom lip, his eyes were soft when they met yours.

Daryl reached deep into his pocket, “So, I… uh… got ya somethin’.”

When he pulled his hand out of his pocket, entwined in his fingers was a long silver chain. On the chain was a thin gold banded ring, with a small oval sapphire encased in tiny diamond chips.

“I know it’s nothing flashy, but when I found it, it made me think of you,” Daryl motioned to turn around. He clasped the necklace on, lightly brushing his fingertips down to the base of your neck after letting the chain fall.

You picked it up off your chest, but couldn’t fully take it in because of the tears welling in your eyes. “Daryl,” your breath hitched as you looked up at him, “It’s beautiful…”

Daryl used his thumb to gently wipe the tears that spilled down your cheek.

“But why the chain?” you were curious but knew that Daryl being Daryl, he had a reason.

“Well, that’s cause I can’t put it on your finger proper until we can see Gabriel and make it right,” Daryl rested his forehead against yours as he always did and wrapped his arms around your shoulders. “When we’re together again… all of us, I’m gonna put it on your finger like I shoulda back then…”

Speechless and more in love than you could remember, you cut him off with a kiss. You didn’t care who was around or who may be watching. You kissed him deeply, your tongue taking over his mouth and dancing with his like it was the first time.

Daryl emitted a low growl and picked you up, your legs automatically wrapping around him while your mouths were still firmly fused. Suddenly remembering where you were, you pulled back from his kiss and laughed.

He slowly put you back on the ground, and you kissed him one more time. “I love it baby, I love it so much. The second we are back home, you bet your ass this is going on my finger.”

“It better,” he whispered. Sighing, he looked up to Glenn who motioned towards the gates, “we gotta go baby,” he whispered, touching his forehead to yours one last time, he left a kiss where your hair met your brow, “I love you.”

“I love you too. Please be careful.”

Leaving the comfort of his personal space was harder than you thought it would be. You didn’t want to start crying so you turned to turned to Maggie and Glenn, giving them each a hug before the tears began to fall. You picked up Hershel and tickled his belly. “Be good for mama, ok buddy?”

The boy giggled heartily, and you passed him back to Glenn. Abe started to cry as his best friend was carried through the gates, his sobs only grew louder once Daryl gave him and Shelby their final goodbyes. Daryl followed Ezekiel and Jesus through the gates, turning once to give you a small wave, then left to make his way towards home.

Clutching at the ring hanging around your neck, you raised a free hand goodbye as Shelby and Abe clung to each one of your legs.

“Mama, when will daddy be back to get us?” Shelby asked looking up at you.

“Soon baby, soon,” you tutted and gently stroked the back of her long hair. “He can’t stay away from you guys for too long, he loves ya too much.” The sting of tears threatened the corner of your eyes, but you found the resolve to push them back.

Hours had gone by and the children were easily distracted by all the morning activities in the Kingdom. Abe didn’t want to eat any lunch and finally relented to a nap. Susan, one of the school teachers offered to bring him to the room to sleep and watch him while you took Shelby to eat and have her first official riding lesson with Lana.

After Shelby’s lessons wrapped up, you went back to the room to check on Abe but knew something wasn’t right the moment you walked in the door. Susan was coming from the bathroom with a wet cloth in her hand and her voice thick with concern.

“I’m so glad your back,” her aged face was wrought with fear, “he was fine, then suddenly started throwing up in his sleep and now he feels feverish.”

“What?” you let go of Shelby’s hand and ran to check Abraham’s forehead. His little round face was bright red, beads of sweat on his brow. “Dammit! Where’s the doctor? Um…. Frank… Phillip? No…. FUCK! What’s his name Susan?”

“F—Fabian,” she squeaked out and reaching for Shelby’s hand.

“I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to bark at you,” you apologized after seeing her reaction, “Fabian… can you please go get him…” you turned back to Abe who was kicking the covers off now.

“He’s at the Hilltop… I’m sorry Y/N, I thought you knew.”

“At the Hilltop? Why? They have Dr. Carson… why would Fabian go to the Hilltop?” Panic was starting to set in, both Susan and Shelby could see it written all over your face.

“They get together once every few weeks to review supplies and discuss any medical advancements they’ve made. I really thought you knew this, I’m so sorry hun.”

The panic was building but you knew that you had to hold it together for the kids, especially now that Daryl was many miles away on the long trip home and you had no way to reach him.

“Mama is Abey ok?” Shelby asked, letting go of Susan’s hand and taking yours instead.

“Yeah baby, he just needs some medicine and a doctor. But I don’t want you too close in case whatever he has is contagious.”

“What’s con-tan-jious mean mama?” she asked, her small voice started to sound nervous.

“It means he has germs Shel,” you wiped Abe’s forehead and he settled back into sleep.

“Susan, can you grab Lana for me please? I’m going to need a big favor from her.”

  “Open the gate!” you yelled up to the guards on sentry watch.

“Whoa, whoa, where do you think you’re goin’?” Morgan asked, quickly walking to catch up to you.

“The Hilltop. Fabian is there with Dr. Carson and Abraham is sick. I know there are some meds here, but I want the doctor to see him. I am not taking any chances.”

“Maybe just wait til the others get back…” he suggested with a shrug.

You turned and gave Morgan your full attention. “If you think I am waiting one more god damn second to go get a doctor for my son, you’re more delusional than Daryl already thinks you are.”

“Look, I’m not sayin’ don’t go. Let me go. Stay with your boy and I’ll go get Fabian.”

“No, I’m going.” The gate opened, and you marched through it without looking back. Morgan’s offer was tempting, but what if he didn’t make it? What if he got distracted? You couldn’t take the chance of not going yourself. And, if you were being honest, you didn’t fully trust Morgan either. He failed you once before and there was no way you would leave it up to anyone to do what Abraham needed you to do.

“Then I am coming with you,” he called after you, “just give me a minute to get my gear.”

“No, no need Morgan. Stay here and make sure the kids are safe. Shelby is staying with Lana and Abe is in the room with Susan. I’ll be back with the doctor by nightfall.”

With that, you got into the borrowed vehicle that was waiting for you outside the main gate and started on the half day’s journey to The Hilltop.

Full chapter released tomorrow!  Tags:  @srj1990 @kazosa @soythedemonqueen @onlydarylnormanfic @jodiereedus22 @his-paradox @zombeeemomeee @tiquismiquis @sorenmarie87 @redm81 @rhyatt-deauxtreve@kingdixonreedus @reedusteinrambles @aquivercactus @buckyscrystalqueen  @see-you-then-winchester @hyphymanatee @adixon13 @rawr-bitchess @kgbrenner@fictionaldemon@thewalkingbucky @bikerdaryldixon @lefthologramdeer

[caveartfair]

Amid Controversy, the Whitney Biennial Plays It Safe

John Edmonds, The Villain, 2018. Courtesy of the artist; Company, New York; and the Whitney Biennial.

Lambrequin and Peplum, , 2017. Diane Simpson Whitney Museum of American Art

Maybe it’s not fair to expect an exhibition as popular and overly scrutinized as the Whitney Biennial to take huge risks—especially not after the last edition dissolved into a still-simmering debate over race and identity politics. And yet, there’s something undeniably flat about the 2019 show, co-curated by Jane Panetta and Rujeko Hockley and opening to the public on May 17th.

There isn’t much here to quicken the pulse, with even the politically inflected works coming across as too polite for our current moment. And if one possible function of the biennial is to act as a kind of cross-section of American artistic practice, this exhibition makes some puzzling choices. An alien visitor to the biennial would be forgiven for thinking that most current painting is of the mildly inept, figurative variety, and that found-object assemblage is the way most humans choose to creatively communicate with each other.

The General,, 2018. Nicole Eisenman Whitney Museum of American Art

But let’s start on a positive note: all the way up on the Whitney’s 6th-floor outdoor patio, lashed by wind and cold rain during Monday’s press preview. Here you’ll find one of the Whitney Biennial’s only true showstoppers, an epic sculpture by Nicole Eisenman called Procession (2019). A parade of migratory humanoids is caught mid-journey, possibly in the process of transporting a series of modernist-looking metal sculptures on plinths.

Every element of this sprawling piece is a delight, from the lovingly sculpted cartoonish genitals to the puffs of steam randomly emitted from unexpected orifices. Procession recalls a heroic journey from millennia past, but idiosyncratic Easter eggs abound: a Kryptonite bike lock here, a pair of New York Giants socks there. The funny, complicated sculpture is comfortable juggling sophomoric fart humor with reflections on power, bondage, servitude, and the pomposity of religion—and art, for that matter. A bumper sticker on the back of the cart reads “How’s My Sculpting? Call 1-800-EAT-SHIT.” Procession’s very placement is a stroke of genius: just outside of the museum proper, as if the procession wasn’t quite able to make it to the halls of culture.

Inside, it’s warmer and drier, but also a little predictable. The ghost of Robert Rauschenberg hangs heavy over work by Eric Mack, Troy Michie, and Tomashi Jackson: photo transfers, quilt-like collages of material, and evocative detritus (other artist’s press releases, political buttons, deconstructed bits of clothing).

Installation view of Nicole Eisenman, Procession, 2019.

Across the board, there’s too much found-object assemblage. Wangechi Mutu’s Poems by my great grandmother I (2017)—a construction of wood and cow horn and a dangling pencil that rotates, drawing a circle on its metal base—could be a small-scale homage to Bruce Nauman’s Carousel (Stainless steel version)(1988). Robert Bittenbender’s unwieldy wall sculptures, cages stuffed to bursting with metal cords and junk, seem like hyperbolic parodies of the magpie aesthetic. There are interesting things about some of these works—including large-scale sculptures by Joe Minter—but the sheer volume of them gives the impression that contemporary artists are basically collectors and curators of things they have bought or found.

One big exception here are inventive sculptures by Puerto Rican artist Daniel Lind-Ramos, who makes magic with palm tree trunks, beads, coconuts, soil, and other poetic objects. As with the best of Nari Ward, a sense of symmetry and gravity give these sculptures a sense of ritual importance, despite their secular materials.

Eric N. Mack, (Easter) The Spring / The Holy Ground, 2018. Courtesy of the artist; Morán Morán, Los Angeles; Simon Lee, London; and the Whitney Biennial.

Sentinel I, 2018. Wangechi Mutu Whitney Museum of American Art

Painting fares the worst of all in the Biennial, which seems to be asserting that the medium isn’t dead, just uninteresting. Kyle Thurman’s figurative depictions of men are a weak stab in the direction of Leon Golub; Eddie Arroyo’s paintings of shabby building facades in the Little Haiti neighborhood of Miami may be conceptually interesting, but they’re imminently forgettable as images. Calvin Marcus’s massive canvases are betting on the fact that size is what matters, even when the subject matter—an Ed Ruscha-esque view through a car windshield; a circle of donkeys; an upside down snowman—seems arbitrary at best.

There are a few bright spots to be found, including Janiva Ellis, a stand-out of the last New Museum Triennial. And Keegan Monaghan’s thickly painted renderings of boring things—a rotary telephone, a bit of wood fencing—have the funky, borderline kitschy feel of Red Grooms. Three works by Marlon Mullen are charming and unexpected—all based on the covers of popular trade magazines like Art in America, abstracted into color, pattern, and the text of marquee names, from Grant Wood to Elizabeth Murray.

5825 NE 2nd Ave., Miami, FL 33137, 2017. Eddie Arroyo Whitney Museum of American Art

An emphasis on photography at the Biennial enlivens things a bit, including a small room’s worth of work by Paul Mpagi Sepuya and his peers and collaborators—who are often credited with authoring certain images, eliciting a confusion that’s ultimately about how porous and fluid creative communities can be. The on-the-rise John Edmonds gets two side hallways for his sensual, elegant portraits of black men and women posing with African masks and sculptures. Curran Hatleberg, who has the third-floor gallery space essentially to himself, was a welcome discovery for this critic; his evocative, empathetic portraits and landscapes fall somewhere between Alec Soth and Gregory Crewdson.

Other highlights include Meriem Bennani’s series of videos, housed here in a series of offbeat pavilions outdoors on the fifth floor balcony. Like much of her work, the new installation begins with a documentary subject—Moroccan teenagers, caught laughing, hanging out, and complaining about how Instagram won’t verify their accounts—but also detours into comedic special-effects absurdity. We see local architecture in Morocco’s capital city swaying and crooning R&B lyrics like “I’m a sexy house in Rabat.”

In the ground floor lobby gallery, the always incredible Chicago-based artist Diane Simpson has a series of sculptures that could be storefront displays or altars. Their forms, made with painted fiberboard, lurk on the edge of familiarity—is that a coffee grinder, a length of armor, a trio of folding chairs?—but never fully resemble any one thing. Olga Balema’s sculptures, meanwhile, have a somewhat similar approach to DIY abstraction, albeit messier; who knew one could cover so much ground with little more than carved styrofoam and tape? And Brian Belott’s installation of freezer units holding ephemeral frozen sculptures show a similar knack for funky, handmade invention, even if not every visitor was impressed. “Marc Quinn,” a jaded woman next to me said, referring to the British artist famous for making a bust of his head with his own frozen blood. “That’s the problem with ice—it’s been done!”

Incoming, 2016-2017. Keegan Monaghan Whitney Museum of American Art

If there’s one area where the 2019 Whitney Biennial really stumbles, it’s with the outwardly political. Surely, part of the curatorial conversation must have involved the elephant in the room: Either engage with the oppressive shadow of Trumpism, or treat the show as a respite from the news cycle. This exhibition merely makes half-hearted gestures toward the topical. There’s a goofy series of wall-mounted photo sculptures by Josh Kline, which depict scenes, including the reception desk of Twitter, being slowly covered by rising water. Marcus Fischer presents a reel-to-reel machine playing the recorded thoughts of fellow artists prior to the 2017 inauguration, probing their “fears and reservations about the Trump presidency.” The results are a beat poem (“civil rights…discrimination…polar bears…fracking”) that’s only revelatory if you’ve been sleeping for the past few years.

Alexandra Bell’s biennial contribution is more substantive—annotated articles from the New York Daily News covering the overblown and racist rhetoric surrounding the wrongly accused “Central Park Five.” One piece includes a full-page newspaper ad, written and paid for by one Donald Trump, which calls for a return to the death penalty and no-holds-barred policing. Bell uses a yellow highlighter to isolate especially egregious language, and replaces all the photographs with black boxes. It’s an interesting exercise, but not as compelling as Bell’s better known series, which reworked pages of the New York Times to address racial bias surrounding the killing of Michael Brown. Meanwhile, Kota Ezawa’s film National Anthem (2018)—which animates the artist’s watercolors of NFL players taking a knee—is a political artwork that absolutely no one visiting the Whitney would be likely to be troubled by. It’s as well-meaning as it is toothless.

More successful are a set of drawings by Christine Sun Kim, which remind us that the personal is always political. The artist, who is deaf, weighs in on various sources of her “deaf rage,” experienced in various settings (“while traveling,” or “in the art world”). The quasi-scientific diagrams pinpoint all the many ways in which a differently abled artist can be pushed to the brink. Kim isolates two instances of what she categorizes as merely “cute rage”: “Being offered a wheelchair at the arrival gate…and the braille menu at restaurants.”

Christine Sun Kim, Degrees of My Deaf Rage in The Art World, 2018. Courtesy of the artist; White Space, Beijing; and the Whitney Biennial.

But there is a single instance of hypertopical critique that hits its target, and hard. The most thrilling and dangerous work in the otherwise tame Biennial comes courtesy of Forensic Architecture. The hard-to-define, multidisciplinary collective chose to call out Whitney board vice chairman and Safariland CEO Warren Kanders for the sources of his wealth—namely tear-gas canisters used against migrants at our southern border, and bullets fired by the Israeli military.

While it’s not mentioned directly in the video, Kanders’s presence on the board has caused a swell of protest in the lead-up to the Whitney Biennial, mainly spearheaded by the collective Decolonize This Place. Fellow biennial artist Michael Rakowitz actually pulled out of the show in solidarity with this movement, but Forensic Architecture has done something more effective: remain, and bite the tear gas-grenade-wielding hand that feeds them. Their film manages a nice balance between the didactic and the poppy, concisely explaining a broader initiative to use machine-learning and artificial intelligence to identify online images of a specific teargas product made by Kanders’s company.

“While my company and the museum have distinct missions,” Kanders was quoted saying in a letter to Whitney staffers, “both are important contributors to our society.” Watch a few minutes of Forensic Architecture’s effective, rapidfire footage and you’ll likely disagree. Kudos to the curators for putting the film, Triple Chaser (2019), in the center of the sixth floor galleries, rather than relegating it to a less prominent corner of the museum. But what does it say about this Whitney Biennial that its most relevant moment is one that seems to call the whole enterprise into question?

from Artsy News

[mae-i-scribble]

Experimental Au Chapter 2

Chapter Summary: Star and Marco come across a shelter after a day of traveling. The question of whether or not the should use it remains though.

"Please Marco." Star stared at him with eager eyes, her tail waving almost too fast for him to see. "This is the perfect solution!"

"It's too risky. They'll end up finding us and chasing us out." Marco huffed, shaking his snout.

"But it's a big place, they even have a smaller house we can hide in easy. Besides, it isn't anywhere near any other humans."

Marco glanced at the place in question. It was bigger than most places they had seen, sitting in the middle of a large clearing, which meant more space to maneuver if anything went wrong. It wasn't near any other houses too, that was good. And they did need somewhere decent to sleep for the night, especially after a day full of nothing but travelling.

"We could just make a shelter using our stones."

Star drooped, the excitement in her eyes dimming. "But…we could see what their place looks like. It could help us with our memories!" She was nose to nose with him now, her eyes pleading with him. "All I want to do is be around them for one night. Just a night. It's not even a town, Marco. We could get out of there before the humans could even raise a hand."

"Look…" He shouldn't agree to this. There were much safer options. He knew that humans weren't safe to be around, Star should know that. But the clear desperation in Star's eyes was wearing down his past grudges, as it always did. It would only be for a night, they would be gone first thing in the morning.

"Maybe." He growled, trying his best not grin at Star's excited little hops and yips at even the slightest chance of them staying inside the smaller house for the night. "But first, we watch, make sure that no one plans on going into the smaller house."

Star didn't reply, her eyes glued to the house below. Her tail still wagged back and forth, albeit slower than it had been.

Marco crouched next to her, making himself comfortable. They would be watching the house until at least nightfall, and the sun hadn't even touched the horizon yet.

Surprising his expectations, no one entered the smaller house. Sure, a couple of humans came out of the bigger house, followed by three smaller humans, but all the smaller humans did was roll around in the grass while the larger humans sat and watched them. The sight filled Marco with a wistfulness that he couldn't quite place.

From the quiet sigh that Star gave, he guessed that she felt the same.

He shook his head trying to forget the feeling, but it persisted. Faintly, he recognized that what he was seeing was called a family. Family. The word sounded sweet in his head. Didn't he have one of those once? He thought he did, but he couldn't be sure. It was only a trace of a memory, something vague and impressionistic.

"Do you think we had one of those? A- a family?" Marco didn't look at Star as he asked, resolutely staring at the skyline, where only a tip of the setting sun could be seen.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure we did." He felt Star move beside him, turning towards him.

"What do you think yours was like?"

"I don't know. I think it be cool if they like to do crazy things." Star laid her head besides his, her breath tickling the sides of his jaw as it rushed out her nose.

"Like what?"

"I don't know. Maybe just run around until we're too tired to run anymore. Try new things." Star snorted. "I don't even know what families do. Why'd you ask me?"

"Because I wanted to know."

"Well then, what do you think yours was like?"

"Really?" It was Marco's turn to snort now. "I guess, I think they were nice, or maybe, I think families should be nice to each other."

"Well duh, isn't that what a family is?"

"Yeah, but I just feel like there might be families who aren't nice to each other." Macro gave a silent snarl at the thought. For some reason, the idea itself made him angry, even if he couldn't remember why.

Star actually snarled, the noise startling him enough for him to raise his head and look down at her.

"Sorry." Star lifted her own head to meet his, her upturned lips relaxing. "That just sounds wrong. It made me mad."

"Did you remember anything?" Marco asked, tilting his head in curiosity.

"No." Star put her head back down, looking down at the house. "I just got really upset. I think I might have known a family that was like that. Not nice to each other."

"I'm sorry." Marco put his head down next to Star's, laying his tail across her back. "If anything, we're family, in a way."

"You think so?" Star draped her tail across his back, returning the gesture.

Marco rubbed his cheek against hers. "I know so."

Marco swatted his tail against Star's muzzle, grabbing her attention as he shifted, waving his hand in signal for her to do the same. She did, but only after a weak grumble of protest. He knew that she would much rather explore the place with enhanced senses, but they had to be sneaky, something that their beast forms were not.

Marco stopped to quickly reach back and grab onto Star's hand, ensuring that she wouldn't go barging into the larger house while he wasn't watching.

He reached the smaller house, Star in tow, and grimaced. The smaller house wasn't nearly as nice as he had hoped, the wood it was built out of was worn, littered with holes. The roof looked like it might actually be sagging inwards.

Getting inside was looking to be an issue though. The smaller house was sealed by a- a- a- door! That's what it was. There was a knob, on the door, and Marco peered at it for a few seconds; Star also popped her head over his shoulder to see what he was looking at, giving it a confused frown.

Marco knew this, at least he hoped he did. Wrapping his fingers around the knob on the door, he pulled. When nothing happened, he pushed. When the door still refused to budge, he turned before pushing, and smiled as the door swung open.

His smile quickly vanished as he viewed the interior of the small house. It was littered with unknown objects, some of which his mind put a name to, and others were left in ignorance. He did not like the continued theme of sharp, pointy ends on the objects though.

Star had no such issues, much to Marco's amusement and fear. She immediately bounded into the, small, confined and cluttered space, practically cooing at every new sight.

"You're sure you want to do this?" Marco asked, keeping his voice at a low whisper.

"Are you kidding me!?" Star smacked her hands over her mouth as she realized she was yelling. She continued, in a much softer tone, with a sheepish smile on her face. "Of course I do. This is exciting."

Marco gave a soft sigh, letting the door close behind him as he walked inside.

The door shut with a loud snap, making Marco jump. The ensuing darkness made Marco pause, listening to make sure Star was still there until his eyes adjusted to the lighting. Once he could see again, he began to move the various things around to make room for him and Star to sleep.

He turned to Star when he thought he had a suitable area cleared out, asking, "So, how do we sleep anyways?"

Star paused, turning to him, "I have no idea."

Marco sat on the cold floor, Star sitting down besides him. He lifted up his arm, showing it to Star. "Maybe we're supposed to lay on our arms."

"Really? That seems kind of annoying." Star laid herself out on her back, staring at the low ceiling in confusion. "Maybe this is how we should sleep? It's sort of comfortable."

"Eh." Marco put his head on Star's stomach. "Maybe they lay on each other."

"But I can't lay on you from here." Star said, and Marco sat up once more before turning onto his stomach. Putting an arm down in front of him, he laid his head down on it.

"Maybe like this?"

"Maybe." Star copied Marco's position. "It works."

"Are you sure about this? We could always leave and just make a shelter for the night. We would be more comfortable." Marco offered.

"Of course I'm sure!" Star sounded indignant at first then her voice softened. "We should try and get closer to humans. I mean, we are human at least in part. So some of our memories our probably of us being human. It'll help us remember."

"We're still going as soon as we wake up. If anyone sees us we need to leave." Marco warned. "I know we're human, but we can't trust the other humans. You know what they're like."

"Couldn't we try and explain it to them? They might understand."

"We tried that, remember? It ended with them trying to burn you."

"They were scared."

"That's not an excuse! What have they gone through that we haven't?"

"That's not the point."

"Then what is the point!?"

"I don't think there is a point." Marco strained to hear Star's faint whisper. "Its all so blurry."

Marco inched closer, putting his free hand on top of Star's head. "I'm sorry."

Star turned her head towards him, her eyes shining. "Don't be. Neither of us know what to do."

"I know what we need to do now."

"What?"

"Sleep." Marco smiled at Star's giggle, ruffling her hair before drawing his hand back.

Closing his eyes, Marco tried his best to fall asleep. His skin was itchy though, unused to sleeping without contact.

Something warm draped itself across his back, and Marco leaned into the touch.

"Sorry." Star mumbled, a few locks of her hair settling into Marco's scruffy frizz. "It was weird trying to sleep like that."

Marco only smiled as his eyes slid shut again.

Marco woke to light shining in his eyes. Blinking, he groaned as he blearily tried to decipher where the light was coming from. Any grogginess was replaced with horror as he found why the light had suddenly appeared.

There was a human standing besides the door, staring at the two of them.

Marco leapt to his feet, steadying Star as she was almost sent sprawling to the floor. His stone gave a soft glow in warning.

He froze as he got a better look at the human. It was only a child. A child who barely reached his chest.

"Hello?" It- no, he asked, eyes wide with innocent curiosity.

"Gregory? Come back." A much deeper voice shouted, and that was all it took to convince Marco that they needed to leave. Now.

Latching onto Star's wrist, he pulled her out with him, shoving past the child into the clearing. He shifted as soon as he was out, delicately grabbing Star in his jaws. He'd apologize for it later, all he could think about was escaping.

He bolted towards the forest, the morning sun nearly blinding him. He raced past the angry and terrified cries of the other humans, before they could even think to attack them, he was gone, slipping through trees.

He stopped as Star shifted, falling out of his jaws and onto the forest floor.

"Wait for me next time!" Star growled as Marco sat down, his head bent apologetically.

"I panicked." He admitted, his tail curling around his paws.

Star backed down at that, giving a quiet huff of understanding. "Its just- we could have tried to talk to them."

"I know you want to, but we can't- I mean, you probably could- but I can't. I can't trust them. I really am sorry bu-" Marco's paws wouldn't stop moving, rising up and down as his voice fluctuated.

"Marco." Star stopped him, pressing her nose against his. "I want to talk to people. But I want you to want to talk to them even more. I can wait as long as it takes."

"What if that never happens?" Marco couldn't help but ask.

"It'll happen." Star entwined her tail with his. "Until then, I'll just keep waiting."

"Thank you." Marco breathed. Watching as Star pulled away, he followed her as she strolled further into the forest. Marco spared one last glance back, his eyes taking in the forest that separated them from the now distant house.