#But these cards are so pretty and I'd like actually do something DRASTIC to have a set of pretty AvAM cards

[sammy8d257]

I bought "Amy Rose's Fortune Card" deck recently and now I'm like,

what if stick figures-

[halothenthehorns]

Chapter 8: TYSON LEADS A JAILBREAK

Jason squinted down at the new chapter title like there was Mist obscuring it. The words made less sense the longer he stared. "Tyson leads, Tyson leads a- Percy what the hell did you get him into?"

"Tyson leads a what?" Alex demanded, looking very close to strangling Jason already for even hinting at teasing him.

Thalia leaned over his shoulder to finish, "Tyson Leads a Jailbreak? Yeah, no, I'm on Jason's side, you're a bad influence on that kid. Do we need to have another custody battle?"

"Tyson beat up cows and Canadians just fine without me telling him to do so," Percy crossed his arms, he looked almost proud as he leveled a look at Thalia. "I'm sure whatever this is was a great moment in history, revolutionary, and my little brother is helping, erm, the masses not be oppressed anymore or something. And I will bribe a jury to keep him full-time Thalia!"

"Because that's the right way to win a kid," Will stage whispered while Nico snickered in surprise beside him.

Thalia and Percy began actually bickering who would be a better influence on him though, and Magnus looked on in concern for several moments. "I think I liked it better when Percy kept rolling his eyes and wanted to ignore the chapter titles," he admitted to Alex.

"Are you kidding? This is world class entertainment! If we play our cards right, we might start World War III right here!" Alex was definitely placing bets in his head.

Jason finally had to give an almighty throat clearing and a stern look at the pair. He was pretty good at that when he shut off those questions and actually tried to be serious, like he had experience getting wily kids together. "No offense Thalia, but I think Percy wins by default, Tyson's old enough to get a say and he's going to pick Percy."

Percy not-so-silently cheered. "Now, on with the show?"

"Fine," Thalia huffed, "but I still insist nature spirits don't count and Artemis would consider letting me train him."

"Get your own little brother," Percy smirked before sticking his tongue out at her.

Thalia smiled like a good sport as her secret little brother she hadn't told anybody about finally started reading and she fought back tears for everything she'd done wrong regarding him. She was starting to get worried if she kept this bottled up much longer she'd do something drastic, like try to bathe a cat just to get some kind of battle out of her system.

She knew she should tell Percy at least, he wouldn't bat an eye at the multitude of problems that would arise when he found out she planned on murdering a god for what they'd done, but she wanted to give her friend a chance to breathe first. Get his memories back, actually have a chance at some normalcy back at camp with Annabeth before he got into this while she figured out details, so until then, she'd wait.

The good news: the left tunnel was straight with no side exits, twists, or turns.

"I'd actually prefer it if there were though, if something big is chasing me," Magnus said skittishly. "If you're smaller, you can take the turns that'll slow whatever's chasing you down."

"But we could also look over our shoulder and be vaguely comforted we couldn't see it yet instead of thinking it's just behind that corner," Percy said in his attempt at a wise voice.

"Yeah, man, that's, that's not better than an actual good reason," Magnus frowned in concern how this guy was alive, as usual.

The bad news; it was a dead end.

"The kind of news that trumps any good news anyways," Thalia said in fair compensation, to which neither of them disagreed.

After sprinting a hundred yards, we ran into an enormous boulder that completely blocked our path. Behind us, the sounds of dragging footsteps and heavy breathing echoed down the corridor. Something—definitely not human—was on our tail.

"Tyson," I said, "can you—"

"Yes!" He slammed his shoulder against the rock so hard the whole tunnel shook. Dust trickled from the stone ceiling.

"Hurry!" Grover said. "Don't bring the roof down, but hurry!"

"Grover's sure asking a lot of him right then," Alex pouted, "multitasking ain't that easy."

"And Tyson's not even ADHD," Percy agreed.

The boulder finally gave way with a horrible grinding noise. Tyson pushed it into a small room and we dashed through behind it.

"Close the entrance!" Annabeth said.

"Bossy, bossy," Alex huffed one more time.

"Someone's got to give the orders in those kinds of situations or everyone would run around in chaos," Jason reminded.

Alex was more of a deadly, solo, ninja assassin though if he'd ever stop wearing the brightest stinking colors, so nobody was surprised when he rolled his eyes at Jason.

We all got on the other side of the boulder and pushed.

"Teamwork makes the dream work though," Alex laughingly approved. "I knew you guys could move any problem if you just put enough brute force into it."

"If Alex suggests we just throw rocks at the next monster to kill it, I want you all as witnesses to prove it was justified to see I threw a rock at him first to prove why that wouldn't work," Percy chuckled.

Thalia flicked him in the forehead and fought off a laugh. "See, this is why Tyson should hang around me more, he gets all his violent ideas from you!"

"I resemble that remark," Percy agreed casually.

"I'm assuming he doesn't actually mean resent?" Magnus muttered.

"He does not," Alex agreed without concern.

Whatever was chasing us wailed in frustration as we heaved the rock back into placed and sealed the corridor.

"We trapped it," I said.

"Or trapped ourselves," Grover said.

I turned. We were in a twenty-foot-square cement room and the opposite wall was covered with metal bars. We'd tunneled straight into a cell.

Will let out a long, tragic whistle. "What in Hades did that mortal do to deserve getting a cell next to a literal hellish pit? Can you imagine that poor inmate lying awake at night, hearing any number of things through that wall, and yet being so desperate to escape and chance going in?"

"Or, on the flip side, monsters keep getting into just that cell to eat whoever's in there and going back to the labyrinth, so the prison just accepts that as the black hole cell and throws the ones in there they hope will vanish," Alex offered.

"Is it possible? Did Percy finally stumble across a place you're not going to try to vacation to?" Magnus asked him with a smidge of hope.

"Are you nuts? This is easily in the top five places I need to know every detail of!" Alex looked at him in hurt he'd assume otherwise.

"Yeah, should have seen that coming," Magnus sighed in resignation. The real question would be what would Alex get arrested for to get sent there.

"What in Hades?" Annabeth tugged on the bars. They didn't budge.

"Confirmed, Annabeth does not have super strength," Jason nodded to himself like he was compiling a mental list.

"Was that really something you were holding out for?" Percy asked with mild curiosity.

"Can't automatically disqualify it after she held the sky so long. I'm now marking that as strength of character," Jason shrugged.

Through the bars we could see rows of cells in a ring around a dark courtyard—at least three stories of metal doors and metal catwalks.

"A prison," I said. "Maybe Tyson can break—"

"Shh," said Grover. "Listen."

"I would almost rather not, though," Magnus admitted. He'd had to imagine all the time what prison sounded like and wasn't looking for any more descriptors.

"It, uh, it wasn't," but Percy didn't know how to answer that, other than just saying it sounded very weird. Like someone was trying to speak with construction equipment.

Somewhere above us, deep sobbing echoed through the building. There was another sound, too—a raspy voice muttering something that I couldn't make out. The words were strange, like rocks in a tumbler.

"What's that language?" I whispered.

Tyson's eye widened. "Can't be."

"I never considered Tyson might know a second language and that's why he's so minimal in English," Alex said in fascination.

"Do monsters get their own language?" Magnus asked awkwardly. What the heck was going on? Were they even in a mortal prison, or had the labyrinth dumped them out in some hellish monster prison?

"As far as I know, it's a pretty universal kill Percy Jackson language," Percy shrugged, but the look of intense surprise on Tyson's face made him nowhere near downplaying something was up.

"What?" I asked.

He grabbed two bars on our cell door and bent them wide enough for even a Cyclops to slip through.

"So is Tyson jailbreaking himself? That's not something anybody can be upset about," Will was only mock confused, but the slight notes of dread in his voice weren't fake. He was not looking forward to Kampê being described in vivid detail. He still had nightmares about her.

"Wait!" Grover called.

But Tyson wasn't about to wait. We ran after him.

"No easy task I imagine," Jason mock saluted him.

"Yeah, he's weirdly fast, must be all that peanut butter," Percy agreed.

The prison was dark, only a few dim fluorescent lights flickering above.

"I don't think it's an active prison?" Magnus said in surprise. Surely somebody else would have been spotted by now. That just made it creepier though, now he was wondering when the vengeful spirits were going to show up. He still hadn't ruled out monsters were lurking about and the cells were just for show.

"I know this place," Annabeth told me. "This is Alcatraz."

"Fascinating," Alex yelped.

"Growing less surprised by the second the labyrinth dropped you off there," Nico muttered while fiddling with his figurine.

"You mean that island near San Francisco?"

She nodded. "My school took a field trip here. It's like a museum."

"What the hell do they sell in that gift shop?" Magnus spluttered.

"I swear if it's jumpsuits and space food I'll move in," Alex snickered.

It didn't seem possible that we could've popped out of the Labyrinth on the other side of the country,

"Like, seriously, where was this magic path the last two bloody times you needed it," Jason agreed with Percy's very put out look.

"I'm sure if we tried to take the exact same route we'd end up popping out in the South Poll," Percy grumbled at all of his luck.

but Annabeth had been living in San Francisco all year, keeping an eye on Mount Tamalpais just across the bay. She probably knew what she was talking about.

"I just assume that in general," Will nodded. "If she started babbling on about brain surgery or rocket science I'd take her at word."

Nico repressed the urge to gag that literally everybody but him was in love with this girl.

"Freeze," Grover warned.

But Tyson kept going. Grover grabbed his arm and pulled him back with all his strength.

"Did that cause a sequel of the flying shoes?" Thalia asked in concern and admiration at Grover trying so hard. He was all heart, a true protector, even with someone he wasn't fond of.

"He would have fallen if Tyson hadn't actually stopped to catch him," Percy agreed. "I think it would have been easier to pull on the anchor of a cruise ship, but that's Grover for you."

"Stop, Tyson!" he whispered. "Can't you see it?"

I looked where he was pointing, and my stomach did a somersault. On the second-floor balcony, across the courtyard, was a monster more horrible than anything I'd ever seen before.

"Which is really saying a lot when you've met, how many monsters now?" Magnus preemptively put his hand on his stomach to hold it in place for what he might be about to hear.

"Not even a fraction of all of them," Thalia shook her head in sorrow she couldn't promise this would get any better over time.

It was sort of like a centaur, with a woman's body from the waist up. But instead of a horse's lower body, it had the body of a dragon—at least twenty feet long, black and scaly with enormous claws and a barbed tail. Her legs looked like they were tangled in vines, but then I realized they were sprouting snakes, hundreds of vipers darting around, constantly looking for something to bite. The woman's hair was also made of snakes, like Medusa's. Weirdest of all, around her waist, where the woman part met the dragon part, her skin bubbled and morphed, occasionally producing the heads of animals—a vicious wolf, a bear, a lion, as if she were wearing a belt of ever-changing creatures. I got the feeling I was looking at something half formed, a monster so old it was from the beginning of time, before shapes had been fully defined.

"That is the coolest stinking thing I've ever heard of," Alex said slowly, clearly savoring each word.

"How, do you kill, that?" Magnus looked sickened such a thing like shapes even existed now.

"She's how I'd have imagined the mother of all monsters if you hadn't described Echidna already," Jason admitted. "A little bit of everything."

"You guys have no idea how lucky you are just to be hearing about this thing," Percy sighed. She was the kind of monster that made him fleetingly wonder if he was going to wet himself and not care if he'd feel that liquid.

Will's breath came out sharp, the sounds of screams and the smell of that poison and the looks of fright and pain still on faces covered in shrouds coming all to easily back to mind as he fought off a shiver. Nico placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, waiting to be shrugged off, or for Will to scream in fright at the death kid touching him right now.

To his surprise, the opposite happened. Will relaxed under his touch, one last shake of his head, and then he smiled at him. It was a small, tired one, but he mouthed thank you like he'd needed that moment to be grounded. Nico slowly drew his hand back all the same, examining it carefully to make sure he hadn't grabbed a skeleton hand by mistake just in case. Nope. There was that scar on the pad of his thumb from the first time he'd handled his sword. It had been real.

"It's her," Tyson whimpered.

"Get down!" Grover said.

We crouched in the shadows, but the monster wasn't paying us any attention. It seemed to be talking to someone inside a cell on the second floor. That's where the sobbing was coming from. The dragon woman said something in her weird rumbling language.

"What's she saying?" I muttered. "What's that language?"

"The tongue of the old times." Tyson shivered. "What Mother Earth spoke to Titans and...her other children. Before the gods."

"You understand it?" I asked. "Can you translate?"

Tyson closed his eyes and began to speak in a horrible, raspy woman's voice. "You will work for the master or suffer."

"Is Tyson a human translator? Cyclops translator?" Jason asked, always pleasantly surprised to find out more things no matter how persistent that nagging voice in his head was still saying all this time later this wasn't normal.

Percy was clearly puzzled by the question, obviously never having asked, so Nico offered, "as far as I know it ties into that whole voice mimicry they can do. If the person whose voice they plucked it from can speak it, so can they."

"That is so stinking cool!" Jason and Percy both cheered.

Annabeth shuddered. "I hate it when he does that."

Percy looked chagrined while Thalia gave him an understanding nod. Annabeth was allowed to be excused from thinking that was cool after what she'd been through, and Percy had a tendency to forget because Tyson was his daily Cyclops reminder instead of her nightmares.

Like all Cyclopes, Tyson had superhuman hearing and an uncanny ability to mimic voices. It was almost like he entered a trance when he spoke in other voices.

"I will not serve," Tyson said in a deep, wounded voice.

He switched to the monster's voice: "Then I shall enjoy your pain, Briares." Tyson faltered when he said that name. I'd never heard him break character when he was mimicking somebody, but he let out a strangled gulp.

Then he continued in the monster's voice. "If you thought your first imprisonment was unbearable, you have yet to feel true torment. Think on this until I return."

"You've only seen him do that once," Thalia gave him a bit of a judgmental eyebrow. "I'm actually quite pleased to know they can be shocked out of doing that trance." Much like Annabeth, she found that distasteful even being used on their side considering it had once been done to her.

"Who's Briares?" Jason cut into the uneasy silence that followed. "I, um, didn't realize Tyson had other friends besides you." A prison isn't the nicest place to have a sleepover, but it was even more awkward to realize Tyson might have been homeless before when there might have been some monster friend with plenty of space he could have been staying.

"I have no idea," Percy didn't sound to thrilled about the idea either. Prison break, the chapter title had promised, like Briares was stuck there and Tyson was going to help get him out. What the heck was a monster so old and powerful going to be like he needed help?

The dragon lady tromped toward the stairwell, vipers hissing around her legs like grass skirts. She spread wings that I hadn't noticed before—huge bat wings she kept folded against her dragon back. She leaped off the catwalk and soared across the courtyard. We crouched lower in the shadows.

A hot sulfurous wind blasted my face as the monster flew over. Then she disappeared around the corner.

"H-h-horrible," Grover said. "I've never smelled any monster that strong."

"Cyclopes' worst nightmare," Tyson murmured. "Kampê."

"Like a canopy?" Magnus was sure he'd heard wrong. "That sounds way to relaxing and nice to be translated right."

"I'm not making it up!" Jason promised.

"Who?" I asked.

Tyson swallowed. "Every Cyclops knows about her. Stories about her scare us when we're babies. She was our jailer in the bad years."

Percy frowned and swallowed a tight throat. He'd never asked about Tyson's mom, how long he'd been homeless before they found each other. Like with Annabeth, Percy worried it wasn't the best circumstances.

That bit also made him a tad grateful his mom never tried to give him bedtime stories, he was to restless a child. He vaguely recalled her singing her favorite songs to him instead, and wondered if he could get a recording sometime so Tyson could fall asleep listening to that instead of stories about the worst jailer of all time.

Annabeth nodded. "I remember now. When the Titans ruled, they imprisoned Gaea and Ouranos's earlier children—the Cyclopes and the Hekatonkheires."

"Can they not just be called heck-spawn? That's so much easier to pronounce," Percy sighed.

"Oh come on Percy, it's not that bad after you learned in school how to pronounce deoxyribonucleic acid," Will said bracingly.

"And now you're putting way to much faith in my education," Percy scoffed.

"The Heka-what?" I asked.

"The Hundred-Handed Ones," she said. "They called them that because...well, they had a hundred hands.

"The Greeks really didn't go out of their way to get creative with these names huh?" Alex said tragically.

"I'm, um, not complaining. Better than calling them the toe-to-head devourers or something," Magnus was definitely not wrapping his head around that right though. Were all the hands going to sprout out of his arms? Was he going to be a giant hand made of hands? Did that mean they were all thumbs and clumsy?

They were elder brothers of the Cyclopes."

"Looks like Percy's got some competition!" Magnus chuckled.

"Bet I'll win!" Percy said at once.

"It's okay guys, Tyson can have all the big siblings he wants, no need to fuss," Thalia mock playacted just because she was really tired of this being discussed.

Percy opened his mouth, a challenge on his tongue Thalia was just trying to move on from this because she didn't think she'd win, but he really saw her. The exhaustion in her eyes, the way she held herself like they were discussing Luke. Something about Tyson was really bothering her right now, and like Annabeth, he did forget her bad experience with them. So he quickly waved Jason on, but he kept watching her, and noticed how she didn't quite seem to want to watch Jason either.

"Very powerful," Tyson said. "Wonderful! As tall as the sky. So strong they could break mountains!"

"Cool," I said. "Unless you're a mountain."

"Might be cool for the mountains," Alex grinned. "I quite admire monsters that can break me."

"Only you Alex," Percy told him without surprise.

"Kampê was the jailer," he said. "She worked for Kronos. She kept our brothers locked up in Tartarus, tortured them always, until Zeus came. He killed Kampê and freed Cyclopes and Hundred-Handed Ones to help fight against the Titans in the big war."

"And now Kampê is back," I said.

"Bad," Tyson summed up.

"I swear we could just plaster that as the chapter title and it would always be relevant," Nico muttered.

"So who's in that cell?" I asked. "You said a name—"

"Briares!" Tyson perked up. "He is a Hundred-Handed One. They are as tall as the sky and—"

"Yeah," I said. "They break mountains."

I looked up at the cells above us, wondering how something as tall as the sky could fit in a tiny cell, and why he was crying.

"Hopefully it's just a minor inconvenience, like his warden forgot to put a mint on his pillow," Jason said with an odd look at Percy. It seemed pretty obvious anybody would be crying to be in these circumstances. They were all holding it together by willpower and sarcasm.

"I guess we should check it out," Annabeth said, "before Kampê comes back."

"And that's why the child of wisdom is leading this charge," Alex snorted. "I'd rather wait until Kampê came back to do this properly!"

"You would," Nico said, never entirely sure how much Alex was kidding about that.

As we approached the cell, the weeping got louder.

"Do you expect noises to get quieter the closer you get to them?" Will asked in concern.

"I don't know, I've never tried being quiet at anything," Percy shrugged.

When I first saw the creature inside, I wasn't sure what I was looking at. He was human-size and his skin was very pale, the color of milk. He wore a loincloth like a big diaper. His feet seemed too big for his body, with cracked dirty toenails, eight toes on each foot. But the top half of his body was the weird part. He made Janus look downright normal. His chest sprouted more arms than I could count, in rows, all around his body. The arms looked like normal arms, but there were so many of them, all tangled together, that his chest looked kind of like a forkful of spaghetti somebody had twirled together. Several of his hands were covering his face as he sobbed.

"That guy, is very cool," Alex instantly decided.

"Helps he might not kill you upon first meeting you," Magnus agreed, though he was still reserving a scream for that in case they got double-crossed.

"Either the sky isn't as tall as it used to be," I muttered, "or he's short."

"Mist manipulation?" Jason offered awkwardly.

"Or he didn't get Ouranos's genes," Percy snorted.

Thalia rolled her eyes at the pair of them again, so at least that was still normal.

Tyson didn't pay any attention. He fell to his knees.

"Briares!" he called.

The sobbing stopped.

"Great Hundred-Handed One!" Tyson said. "Help us!"

Briars looked up. His face was long and sad, with a crooked nose and bad teeth. He had deep brown eyes—I mean completely brown with no whites or black pupils, like eyes formed out of clay.

Jason gave an impressed whistle.

"That's what impressed you?" Percy yelped. "You weren't even phased by the arms, but his eyes?"

"Eyes are the window to the soul Percy, and that just sounded cooler than spaghetti arms," he chuckled. His blue eyes flashed a familiar, cocky kind of way when he mocked him that nagged at Percy's mind for a moment.

"Run while you can, Cyclops," Briares said miserably. "I cannot even help myself."

"Yeah, why is that exactly?" Magnus stage whispered. "He doesn't exactly sound pinned down."

"Sometimes your head can be prison enough," Nico murmured sullenly. If Magnus hadn't seen his lips move, he wouldn't have been entirely sure he spoke at all. Magnus swallowed a sharp, bitter feeling on his tongue of understanding and didn't press farther.

"Sounds to me like he just needs a helping hand," Percy said casually and then even laughed at his own pun, so the others just rolled their eyes at him and moved on.

"You are a Hundred-Handed One!" Tyson insisted. "You can do anything!"

Briars wiped his nose with five or six hands. Several others were fidgeting with little pieces of metal and wood from a broken bed, the way Tyson always played with spare parts. It was amazing to watch. The hands seemed to have a mind of their own. They built a toy boat out of wood, then disassembled it just as fast. Other hands were scratching at the cement floor for no apparent reason. Others were playing rock, paper, scissors. A few others were making ducky and doggie shadow puppets against the wall.

"I feel like trying to watch him sign would give me a headache," Magnus seemed fascinated how he was able to function all of those fingers at once. He did good to walk and have a conversation without tripping.

"Like trying to listen to a song at mock ten speed, he'd just bang out everything at once," Alex agreed, but he sounded more impressed. He was probably imagining punching 98 people at once and giving himself a high-five.

"I cannot," Briares moaned. "Kampê is back! The Titans will rise and throw us back into Tartarus."

"Put on your brave face!" Tyson said.

Immediately Briares's face morphed into something else. Same brown eyes, but otherwise totally different features. He had an upturned nose, arched eyebrows, and a weird smile, like he was trying to act brave. But then his face turned back to what it had been before.

"Does every part of his body just go nuts?" Percy half laughed half asked. "Do his ears change out to bionics?"

Thalia smacked him on his ear to shush him.

"No good," he said. "My scared face keeps coming back."

"How did you do that?" I asked.

Annabeth elbowed me. "Don't be rude. The Hundred-Handed Ones all have fifty different faces."

"I don't think ignorance should be called rude," Will said fairly.

"It is if you ask to see all fifty faces at once," Alex said with a very disappointed face of his own he knew he shouldn't and yet very much wanted to.

"Must make it hard to get a yearbook picture," I said.

Thalia laughed against her will and agreed, "a face a mother doesn't have to love, she could just tell him to change it to another!" Then kept snickering at her own joke.

Percy sighed in relief, it was kind of depressing watching her try to be all responsible and lieutenant-y. He was already worried the Hunt was going to make her boring and stiff.

Tyson was still entranced. "It will be okay, Briares! We will help you! Can I have your autograph?"

"Does he have an autograph book?" Alex asked in surprise.

"I think we found his celebrity crush," Magnus grinned.

"My question is, can you get one of those on Alcatraz island? I'm still not sure what to expect in that gift shop," Will chuckled.

Briares sniffled. "Do you have one hundred pens?"

"I only keep up with one because it's magic!" Percy looked traumatized at the idea of collecting all of those.

"His hands move independently of each other though," Nico frowned at the odd question.

"Maybe each would want to write their own autograph," Will said, an odd bit of disappointment in his voice nobody got because he hadn't gotten an autograph when it was available.

"Guys," Grover interrupted. "We have to get out of here. Kampê will be back. She'll sense us sooner or later."

"Break the bars," Annabeth said.

"Yes!" Tyson said, smiling proudly. "Briares can do it. He is very strong. Stronger than Cyclopes, even!

"That's, pretty strong," Magnus agreed, but with a weary kind of frown. How much stronger than Tyson could you be without tipping the terrifying scales?

Alex was no more impressed, because if Briares could break out of there, then surely he would have by now.

Watch!"

Briares whimpered. A dozen of his hands started playing patty-cake, but none of them made any attempt to break the bars.

"This is just sad," Jason frowned. How long had this guy been a prisoner already?

Alex tangled up a few strands of hair in his fingers and gave a painful tug. The memory, the feeling of how hard it was to walk out a door wasn't something he'd had to think about in a few years, but then he'd been kicked out. He hadn't gone back in.

Hopefully, it wouldn't take Briares that to get such a forceful freedom.

"If he's so strong," I said, "why is he stuck in jail?"

Annabeth ribbed me again. "He's terrified," she whispered. "Kampê had imprisoned him in Tartarus for thousands of years. How would you feel?"

Percy couldn't imagine it. Even at his worst moments with smelly Gabe he'd had his mom, or being underground in that Labyrinth, he'd been with his friends. He'd been able to move, have a sense of freedom, know that he could leave if he'd ever wanted to even if it wasn't something he'd ever consider.

The Hundred-Handed One covered his face again.

"Briares?" Tyson asked. "What...what is wrong? Show us your great strength!"

"Tyson," Annabeth said, "I think you'd better break the bars."

Tyson's smile melted slowly.

"I will break the bars," he repeated. He grabbed the cell door and ripped it off its hinges like it was made of wet clay.

Alex made a noise of appreciation. He knew Tyson would enjoy doing that with him.

"Come on, Briares," Annabeth said. "Let's get you out of here."

She held out her hand. For a second, Briares's face morphed to a hopeful expression. Several of his arms reached out, but twice as many slapped them away.

"I've heard of people fighting with themselves, but geez, this is ridiculous," Thalia said with grudging admiration for how much control Briares must have over himself. He could defeat any enemy if she could find him twenty-five bows.

"I cannot," he said. "She will punish me."

"It's all right," Annabeth promised. "You fought the Titans before, and you won, remember?"

"I remember the war." Briares's face morphed again—furrowed brow and a pouting mouth. His brooding face, I guess.

"I think Briares is going to be a great influence on you," Jason said in a very unhelpful tone to Percy. "Maybe seeing someone actively change their face around will help you figure out what an angry face is."

"Fat chance it'll do any good," Percy scoffed.

"Lightning shook the world. We threw many rocks. The Titans and the monsters almost won. Now they are getting strong again. Kampê said so."

"Don't listen to her," I said. "Come on!"

He didn't move. I knew Grover was right. We didn't have much time before Kampê returned. But I couldn't just leave him here. Tyson would cry for weeks.

"Yeah, that's why you shouldn't just abandon someone," Will sighed while rubbing at his forehead.

"I think this is a great, helpful tool to learn," Nico grinned. "All we have to do to win any fight is tell Percy it'll make someone cry if we don't."

"We shall achieve this quest or it'll make us all cry!" Percy said in a triumphant tone, even hefting an invisible sword. Then he lowered it and gave them a spectacular eye roll. "Nah, doesn't have a good ring to it."

"One game of rock, paper, scissors," I blurted out. "If I win, you come with us. If I lose, we'll leave you in jail."

"That should have been the chapter title," Magnus busted out laughing in surprise. "I Win Rock, Paper, Scissors a Hundred Times."

"Thanks for the confidence," Percy grinned, though he suspected they were all going to call him a cheat.

Annabeth looked at me like I was crazy.

"There's a face he could never forget," Jason clearly wasn't going to let that joke go.

"It's my favorite one," Percy agreed fondly.

Briares's face morphed to doubtful. "I always win rock, paper, scissors."

"Why? Can he read hands better than Magnus?" Alex asked suspiciously.

"I'm not a palm reader," Magnus frowned.

"Shush, you know what I meant," Alex waved his fingers concerningly close to his nose, exposing the dried in clay still in the folds of his skin Magnus had shamelessly been watching when he thought he could get away with it.

"Then let's do it!" I pounded my fist in my palm three times.

Briares did the same with all one hundred hands, which sounded like an army marching three steps forward. He came up with a whole avalanche of rocks, a classroom set of scissors, and enough paper to make a fleet of airplanes.

"He cheated!" Will yelped. "He still has to only pick one!"

"Game sounds a tad more interesting though if you used both hands," Nico grinned. "Bit more of a strategy involved."

"This guy could play a whole game of chess by himself and not use half his hands," Will grudgingly agreed. "Somebody's got to make it a challenge."

"Then he came to the right place," Percy cracked his knuckles in delight.

"I told you," he said sadly. "I always—" His face morphed to confusion. "What is that you made?"

"A gun," I told him, showing him my finger gun. It was a trick Paul Blofis had pulled on me, but I wasn't going to tell him that.

"Percy, you cheated too," Will groaned in disappointment.

"And kids shouldn't play with guns, Paul is a terrible influence," Thalia rolled her eyes at Will to make him hear how ridiculous he was being.

He opened his mouth, then shut it again. What was he supposed to say? He should have used a sword instead?

"A gun beats anything."

"That's not fair."

"I didn't say anything about fair. Kampê's not going to be fair if we hang around. She's going to blame you for ripping off the bars. Now come on!"

"You're being a manipulative little shit," Thalia said approvingly. "You don't get enough credit for being able to do that."

"Annabeth gets all the good credit, I'm just the sidekick," Percy reminded cheerfully.

Briares sniffled. "Demigods are cheaters." But he slowly rose to his feet and followed us out of the cell.

"Not a great lesson I'd want to instill in him," Magnus said uneasily. The last thing Percy needed was this guy as a powerful enemy, and making all future generations of demigods his enemy.

"I saved his life, he can call me a sore loser and a poopoo head too if he and Tyson want to hide under a blanket and laugh about me," Percy shrugged.

I started to feel hopeful.

"And then all hell broke lose," Jason said with such calm confidence, nobody even realized that hadn't been in the book.

All we had to do was get downstairs and find the Labyrinth entrance. But then Tyson froze.

On the ground floor right below, Kampê was snarling at us.

"Is run the right word there?" Magnus tried hard not to whimper.

"Better than freeze?" Alex shrugged.

Percy was making a strangled kind of noise that wasn't a word at all, his eyes large enough he resembled a deep sea fish.

"The other way," I said.

"Unless Tyson wants her autograph too, then you might stop," Thalia shivered.

"Nope, sorry, I'd have to make the tough call on that and tell him no," Percy said only a tad frantically.

We bolted down the catwalk. This time Briares was happy to follow us. In fact he sprinted out front, a hundred arms waving in panic.

"Oh, good to know that's all it took," Jason yelped in something close to betrayal, but he also had half a mind to lash a rope to one of his arms and hang on for the free ride, so he wasn't that offended.

Behind us, I heard the sound of giant wings as Kampê took to the air.

"Is now a good time to discuss how exactly it's possible for dragons to take flight?" Alex asked critically. "Especially the European ones which are all heavy-armored tanky beasts, and you cannot tell me she's gliding in there."

"You know Alex," Percy tried to say as casually as possible, "I think we should shelve that, and save it for a quiet time when we've just dodged our own near death experience, not in the middle of one."

"Duly noted," Alex nodded.

She hissed and growled in her ancient language, but I didn't need a translation to know she was planning to kill us.

"I'm sure Tyson's feelings won't be to hurt," Jason snorted.

We scrambled down the stairs, through a corridor, and past a guard's station—out into another block of prison cells.

"Left," Annabeth said. "I remember this from the tour."

"I'd trust any direction that wasn't backwards," Will promised faintly.

We burst outside and found ourselves in the prison yard, ringed by security towers and barbed wire. After being inside for so long, the daylight almost blinded me.

Magnus winced along with him, because he didn't usually experience that very harshly, or he got over it weirdly quickly. He'd never considered that of any use outside of just hanging around making sure Hearth or Blitz didn't bump into anything, now he realized he might have been able to take in the area a split second faster than someone like Percy or Annabeth.

Tourists were milling around, taking pictures. The wind whipped cold off the bay. In the south, San Francisco gleamed all white and beautiful, but in the north, over Mount Tamalpais, huge storm clouds swirled.

The whole sky seemed like a black top spinning from the mountain where Atlas was imprisoned, and where the Titan palace of Mount Othrys was rising anew. It was hard to believe the tourists couldn't see the supernatural storm brewing, but they didn't give any hint that anything was wrong.

"Still want that picture-perfect moment Will?" Nico asked mildly.

"Ever notice how nobody takes pictures of hard times?" Will asked with a sad smile. "Maybe I would, do a before and after thing."

"You're insane," Nico chuckled with growing affection for his particular insanity.

"It's even worse," Annabeth said, gazing to the north. "The storms have been bad all year, but that—"

"Keep moving," Briares wailed. "She is behind us!"

"And you guys keep telling me I have bad timing," Alex said in exasperation. "At least I didn't want to stop and talk about the scenery!"

"You're trying to tell us you wouldn't stop and smell the roses while a dragon canopy is behind you?" Jason asked in disbelief.

"Roses are so cliché," he scoffed like that was actually an answer before waving him on.

We ran to the far end of the yard, as far from the cellblock as possible.

"Kampê's too big to get through the doors," I said hopefully.

Then the wall exploded.

Thalia's smile looked painful as she tried to smother a laugh, and was failing. "Okay, next, I want you to say, I don't want a million dollars!"

"It doesn't work like that, I've tried," Percy promised through a grit-tooth smile.

Tourists screamed as Kampê appeared from the dust and rubble, her wings spread out as wide as the yard. She was holding two swords—long bronze scimitars that glowed with a weird greenish aura, boiling wisps of vapor that smelled sour and hot even across the yard.

"Poison!" Grover yelped. "Don't let those things touch you or..."

"Or we'll die?" I guessed.

"Well...after you shrivel slowly to dust, yes."

"Because of course the giant every-monster gets poisonous swords! What next, a propeller hat? A backpack full or restores?" Magnus looked exhausted for Percy even hearing of this unstoppable beast.

Percy wondered when the heck his life had turned into something that made a horror movie sound bland. It didn't sound great when he decided always.

"Let's avoid the swords," I decided.

"That is possibly the wisest thing you've ever said," Thalia said, clearly impressed.

"You and Grover putting that one good brain cell to use at the right time," Jason snorted.

"Briares, fight!" Tyson urged. "Grow to full size!"

Instead, Briares looked like he was trying to shrink even smaller. He appeared to be wearing his absolutely terrified face.

"I'm very disappointed you haven't continued describing all these new features," Alex pouted. "Did he have a button nose? A wide forehead? Dimples?"

"You know, I really didn't think about it much," Percy grinned, "like Jason said, it was all in the eyes."

"Ha!" Jason gave a barking laugh before falling off into snickers for a solid minute before he could keep going while Percy stared on, pleased with himself he'd gotten him to laugh so hard. Jason definitely needed to stop thinking and counting so much and have a little more fun.

Kampê thundered toward us on her dragon legs, hundreds of snakes slithering around her body.

For a second I thought about drawing Riptide and facing her,

"And you have two great guys to help you throw rocks at this monster and everything," Alex smirked right at Percy.

He took in a deep breath and raised his hand at the giant white boulder still sitting in the middle of the room from where he'd nearly caved in the roof.

It didn't move, and after several silent moments of everybody watching blankly, Percy shrugged. "See, told you it wouldn't work."

"You weren't really trying at all, were you?" Alex asked tragically, as if actually offended Percy hadn't thrown a rock at him to really nail his point.

"My attention is a little split, try again later," Percy rolled his eyes.

Alex sniffed, he knew a dismissal when he heard one. "I remember what ADHD stands for you know," he grumbled, but Percy was back to staring at the book and chewing on the cap of his pen.

but my heart crawled into my throat. Then Annabeth said what I was thinking: "Run."

That was the end of the debate.

"I want you to remember this moment if you ever think of joining that particular club at Goode High," Nico told him conversationally enough. He hadn't even been in awe this time Percy had run like a sensible person or taken charge. He was just a guy running for his life like anyone.

"Yeah Nico, this is for sure the first thing I want coming to my mind joining any club," Percy gave him a bewildered frown.

There was no fighting this thing. We ran through the jail yard and out the gates of the prison, the monster right behind us. Mortals screamed and ran. Emergency sirens began to blare. We hit the wharf just as a tour boat was unloading. The new group of visitors froze as they saw us charging toward them, followed by a mob of frightened tourists, followed by...I don't know what they saw through the Mist, but it could not have been good.

"Stampeding elephant," Alex offered.

"Raining men?" Magnus asked.

"A very angry woman throwing snakes at people out of a bazooka," Jason said with a little to much confidence, his mind offering a weirdly specific image of seeing someone on the news talk about this...

"The boat?" Grover asked.

"Too slow," Tyson said.

"Not with Percy driving it!" Will yelped.

"I wasn't going to argue with Tyson, who knew if she was just getting started," Percy shook his head sharply. He hadn't exactly sat around and clocked his ability to move a boat faster than every monster.

"Back into the maze. Only chance."

"We need a diversion," Annabeth said.

Tyson ripped a metal lamppost out of the ground. "I will distract Kampê. You run ahead."

"I'll help you," I said.

"No," Tyson said. "You go. Poison will hurt Cyclopes. A lot of pain. But it won't kill."

"Are you sure?"

"Go, brother. I will meet you inside."

"It was never hard to guess who Tyson took the best influence from," Thalia chuckled, handing him a mock stack of documents. "I concede the case, you now have both kids all to yourself."

Percy gave her a tragic look as he mock-hugged them to his chest and pleaded, "you won't even offer child support?"

"Ha, ha, ha," she chuckled as she gave him a light push. Hopefully this would finally get him to let go of that stupid joke, and besides, she'd meant it anyways. How could she not admire the hero he'd been to Tyson the instant they met? It was who he always was.

I hated the idea. I'd almost lost Tyson once before, and I didn't want to ever risk that again. But there was no time to argue, and I had no better idea.

"Sometimes the best idea is blind trust," Jason agreed gently.

Percy wasn't sure he liked it when he heard Jason saying stuff like that, and not because he disagreed. It just sounded exhausting, like how Chiron sometimes sounded so old. Jason was his age, he shouldn't know all that.

Annabeth, Grover, and I each took one of Briares's hands and dragged him toward the concession stands while Tyson bellowed, lowered his pole, and charged Kampê like a jousting knight.

"Getting medieval times up in here," Alex grinned. "I told you to get Tyson a cyclops-sized horse Percy, this would have been perfect!"

"I bet Rainbow would come around if we'd had time to call," Percy agreed.

She'd been glaring at Briares, but Tyson got her attention as soon as he nailed her in the chest with the pole, pushing her back into the wall. She shrieked and slashed with her swords, slicing the pole to shreds. Poison dripped in pools all around her, sizzling into the cement.

Tyson jumped back as Kampê's hair lashed and hissed, and the vipers around her legs darted their tongues in every direction. A lion popped out of the weird half-formed faces around her waist and roared.

As we sprinted for the cellblocks, the last thing I saw was Tyson picking up a Dippin' Dots stand and throwing it at Kampê. Ice cream and poison exploded everywhere, all the little snakes in Kampê's hair dotted with tuttifrutti.

Percy couldn't describe the dread that filled him if he wanted to. He would have learned to run backwards or started a jousting tournament or anything if he'd thought it would help in that moment.

But he trusted Tyson. He said he was going to meet him and so he clenched his fist tight enough he could have held a hundred hands and told himself to get a move on, this is what Tyson needed from him right now. The ocean had been roaring in his ears like a cheer from their dad.

He didn't seem to realize, as usual, he was really causing the ocean to begin stirring around them.

We dashed back into the jail yard.

"Can't make it," Briares huffed.

"Tyson is risking his life to help you!" I yelled at him. "You will make it."

As we reached the door of the cellblock, I heard an angry roar. I glanced back and saw Tyson running toward us at full speed, Kampê right behind him. She was plastered in ice cream and T-shirts. One of the bear heads on her waist was now wearing a pair of crooked plastic Alcatraz sunglasses.

"I cannot believe Rachel isn't here to help me get a visual on this," Alex groaned. "You think Oceanus will let us take souvenirs when we're done, because I will fight someone for that paragraph to exist so I can make a sculpture of it!"

"I'm sure you can just rip out a page and stuff it in your shoe," Percy told him, letting himself be temporarily distracted. People were in his room. Vulnerable friends who he couldn't blast away. "In fact, I'll be starting a fire underwater soon enough to burn all these, so get your picks while you can." Like he wanted anybody else to suffer the nightmare that was his life when this was done.

"Hurry!" Annabeth said, like I needed to be told that.

"She's just a good leader like that, making sure you're all on the same page," Jason snickered.

"I'll shove that page up your nose, see if you can finish it then," but Percy couldn't help but force a laugh. He needed to hear Tyson was okay more than jokes right now.

We finally found the cell where we'd come in, but the back wall was completely smooth—no sign of a boulder or anything.

"Look for the mark!" Annabeth said.

"There!" Grover touched a tiny scratch, and it became a Greek . The mark of Daedalus glowed blue, and the stone wall grinded open.

Too slowly.

Tyson was coming through the cellblock, Kampê's swords lashing out behind him, slicing indiscriminately through cell bars and stone walls.

I pushed Briares inside the maze, then Annabeth and Grover.

"You can do it!" I told Tyson. But immediately I knew he couldn't. Kampê was gaining. She raised her swords.

Percy moved on reflex. He was flinging only in his mind, but the water reacted around him.

CRASH!

There was now a hole punched into the door at least, instead of someone's skull. Perfectly shaped for someone to fit their head through like they wanted to be Janus for Halloween. Percy's arm was still flung out like a follow-through on a hoop until Thalia gently stood up and grabbed him, lowering him back into his seat as he stuttered for unneeded air while Jason calmly finished like a cannon hadn't just gone off.

I need a distraction—something big. I slapped my wristwatch and it spiraled into a bronze shield.

Desperately, I threw it at the monster's face.

SMACK! The shield hit her in the face and she faltered just long enough for Tyson to dive past me into the maze.

Percy rubbed the empty space where that watch used to be with the smallest of regret. Tyson was alive, and he'd make him an even better watch with their new, even more deadly adventures on it when he got back.

I was right behind him. Kampê charged, but she was too late. The stone door closed and its magic sealed us in. I could feel the whole tunnel shake as Kampê pounded against it, roaring furiously. We didn't stick around to play knock, knock with her, though.

"Talk about one of the greatest punchlines of all time," Thalia said faintly. That had been close. Way to close.

"Would anybody begrudge me making one up for that though?" Alex grinned. "I bet nobody will see it coming."

"You go right ahead Alex, like we can stop you," Will chuckled.

We raced into the darkness, and for the first time (and the last) I was glad to be back in the Labyrinth.

"Someone needed to bring a photographer on these trips to commemorate all the happy times you keep glossing over," Jason said as he began to hand the book over. "I can't believe nobody commemorated that first and last time in one moment!"

"That's what we have you for Jason," Magnus smirked as he took the book. "You're our bookkeeper."

"That would have been much funnier if he was about to start his turn," Alex frowned at him. "Work on your timing Magnus."

"I'll get right on that," he agreed. Half of him wanted to sit in a daze and wonder if Alex had some implications of that, but his fingers were already grazing along for the next chapter. Was it to much to hope this quest would go a tad easier now that they had Briares on their side?

[gate4043]

Ran a one-shot for Thirsty Sword Lesbians called Monster Fuckers today.

Second time running the system, and PbtA overall, went pretty well. Needs some tweaks, might run it again. Maybe I'll do it up nice, put it online at some point.

In the source book, there is a premise given, but not really very much expanded on, called "Dragons and Dungeons", which puts your characters in a community of monsters, as monsters.

TSL and D&D run on very different systems. I would say, from what I've gleamed of TSL and what I know about PbtA, the only reason to go for a PbtA system, at least one like TSL, is if you want to tell a specific kind of story. In a system like D&D, the elements that make up the story can differ drastically and you can basically use the foundations of the world and some homebrew to go from your average "saunter around, go fight monsters in a dungeon, get money, slay dragons, etc" to a city-building sim. Or you can run a circus and instead of just describing what happens, you can actually have your players play the circus games. Can't really accomplish that quite the same in TSL without it feeling like something made specific to the game. It's not as intuitive for the GM because it's not normal for the system.

There are ways to get around that. Obviously the chief way is using stat rolls in addition to moves. If you let players roll their stats on their own, it opens up a whole world of possibilities as far as opportunities go, but it doesn't keep players on theme. The move system is very fun, but it's very limiting. As a GM, what I found most difficult is how to make NPC moves, the best situations to expend strings and what I should be using them on. I didn't make any of my players roll an individual stat, but I did have an NPC make a move in retaliation a couple of times. I get the sense that wasn't the intention, but it can be hard to know the right course of action in the moment.

Overall I had a good session. I think I would run it again, but I don't know how often. I see the advantage of a system like this, which involves fewer world-based mechanics, for settings like A Sea of Pink, White and Blue, which I think I'll run in the future. My reasoning is of course, pirates fun, ship maintenance hard. In D&D, players tend to want to use their pirate ship as a vessel. That's hard as a GM if you don't have resources for that at the ready and know what to do with them, easy if you just go "everything you do in this game is a metaphor for communication, if you fire cannons, it means something, but you don't need to do anything".

Final thoughts, as a GM, this is a huge challenge. My session today was so on the rails it's not funny, there was so much prep involved, and there were still points at which I just found myself stumped. And the fact is, this system promotes so much collaboration. The entire X card mechanic is by its very nature requiring the GM to make an on the fly decision to up-end an aspect of the game, no questions asked. That's a lot of pressure to put on a GM. It does make me think that this system is not necessarily always designed for complex stories. That you're meant to keep it simple and make everything up as you go along based on what your players asked for. I think I might write some stuff challenging that ideal in a way that treats the system with dignity and respect. I'd like to look at how other GMs run this system, because I expect the reason it promotes so much flexibility is because you're meant to be running the game in an informal way when compared to a system like D&D, where everything you need is written down at all times. I'm interested in seeing how other PbtA games run though, I would like to check Masks out at some point.

[beth-purcell]

Going to piggyback off of this, and bring up that this is just one of the many issues and strangeness with Secrets of the Machine as a whole that makes me question Why does this game exist?

Sure, it was released for 4/14, but the dev team have never acknowledged the game, and they went ahead and shared the teasers inside after the fact anyway. And one could make the argument that we already knew all this stuff was coming anyway; We had the Silent City video leak with Meatly admitting they've got many projects going on, BATDR ends on sequel bait, Mike always talking about "updating" their previous works. We didn't need another game that barely has gameplay elements. (You can only die by attempting to replay Riley's "story" more than once, hitting cutouts, or pausing the damn game)

Steam has a $100 fee for uploading any game on the platform (free or not) that's not-refundable. Gamejolt and itch.io are both free and have been used in the past to give "playable teasers", especially those that are short and free. Hell, FNAF has Scottgames.com and FNAFWorld.com as their teaser spots, and Poppy Playtime, along with other game devs, have done full scale ARGs to promote their own work so you don't even have to make a Playable Teaser if it wasn't in the cards. This game just seems like they wanted to do something for 4/14 despite never actually explaining why this number is important outside the amount of times Henry's looped which is a number I guess? and didn't want to just post on their socials, which seems like a waste of $100. I mean, the only thing I could think of is that they did this in order to get away with updating Boris and the Dark Survival so drastically or preparing for a similar song and dance for Secrets, but that doesn't feel like that would make sense for both the devs and Steam.

Did the ones who put in the warnings in the games no longer work at JDS or something? Cause Mike and Meatly are risking a pretty massive lawsuit if someone gets hurt either through this game or future games, and no, saying "this game is more mature" doesn't negate putting in proper tags and warnings, especially if you're going to not put in the story elements with any tact (*sarcastic cough cough* The Insanity Ending of BATDR; The secret message involving singing in BATM; I'd argure to an extent Riley; etc*sarcastic cough cough*)

I sincerely hope that Bendy: The Cage at the very least has the warnings in the Steam description, cause man, you can't continue to drop the ball this bad and expect people to stick around, especially when the competition isn't dropping the ball.

Hey, genuine question. Why does Bendy: Secrets of the Machine not have an epilepsy warning when it boots up? Like, the game starts with a literal lightning strike, and one of its funniest secrets is a rainbow rave with the characters dancing.

I've thought about this before, heck I've thought about it since launch. But I'm thinking about it again today because I accidentally opened up Showdown Bandit while messing with something on Steam. And that's when I learned that that game has an epilepsy warning on its first loading screen! I'd never seen it before, kinda like the design of this screen, it's interesting. So then I decided to check BATDR too, and sure enough, that game ALSO has an epilepsy warning. In multiple languages too! Granted, that comes after a logo with lightning flashes in it, so not exactly immediately helpful, probably should have come before that. But still, something is a little better than nothing.

So like, the devs clearly know to put one in there for full releases. So why shouldn't the interactive teaser have it too? Like, just because it's an interactive teaser rather than a big game doesn't mean Bendy fans with epilepsy or other conditions are at any less risk. There should be a warning in the steam description and as the game boots up.

[that-crazy-five-foot-two-chick]

Rated G for Gosh Dang Near Everyone except people who don't like hurt/comfort sickfics

Word count: 1373

Summary: Winry insists on getting her covid shot as soon as Central offers it. Ed worries for her, even though she's fine. Until she's not.

A/N: written for @darkpersonapeace several days ago when she was recovering from her covid shot day-after yuckiness. Disclaimer though, I am not a medical professional, nor is this meant to be a realistic depiction of the typical side effects of the COVID-19 vaccine. This scenario is simply based on what my roommate experienced, and my side effects were far tamer. Let's kick covid in the butt, guys!

When the first COVID-19 vaccines made their way to Central City, Ed knew that Winry would want to be one of the first in line. Because that's how she was, after all. She always prioritized the needs and safety of others over the possible risks to her own well-being, especially when her automail patients were involved. It was one of the many reasons he'd married her.

However, Edward worried that she might develop some of the more drastic side effects, so he decided to accompany Winry on the train ride from Rush Valley to Central. After all, who knew what could happen if she was on her own, stranded hours away from help?

"Now, Winry, you know you can change your mind at any time, right? I'm not going to try to steer you away from this if it's what you're set on, but you know your patients and I would still respect your decision if you wanted to wait to make sure the vaccine doesn't cause any long-term damage to you, right?"

"Edward Rockbell," she frowned with her hands on her hips, doing nothing to diminish his pride in the name, "I could care less about some hypothetical damage if I even have half a chance at keeping my patients healthy and you know it. And besides, you never had such a high opinion of possible damage when you were involved." She raised an eyebrow.

"When I was involved, sure, but never when it was you, gearhead," he said softly, pulling her in for a hug. His hand held her head and ran down the length of her hair.

"Well, I'm doing it, Ed," Winry said into his shoulder. "Like it or not, I'm trying to protect you, too, even if I have to wait hours in line to do it."

"I could barely figure out what the heck you said between the mask and my shoulder, but with the way the line's going, I don't think you're gonna have to wait very long."

"Hm, I guess not."

"Now, I've researched this. You know you have to stay in the monitoring area for fifteen minutes afterwards, right? You know to stretch your arm so it doesn't get so sore, right? You know to keep your vaccination card…"

*****

Much to Edward's relief, Winry showed no signs of any negative side effects. They went out to dinner (unfortunately, at one of the restaurants the Colonel had recommended), and the train ride back to Rush Valley would have been almost boring if Ed hadn't entertained a child by drawing a transmutation circle that made a loud, garish toy when the child activated it.

And then they got in the car.

Winry cranked the car and made a stop at the nearest gas station while they took turns going to the bathroom. Two minutes down the road, however, the blood began to drain from Winry's face.

"Winry, are you doing alright?"

"I'm fine, Ed. It's not like I can't drive or anything." Several seconds later, Ed spoke again.

"Are you sure? Because you look like you're about to throw up."

"I'm—" she blanched.

"Winry Rockbell, pull over or I'll pull over for you!"

Thankfully, she obeyed and put the car in park.

"Now, don't move. I'll come around and get you."

"Ed, I'm not that bad."

He opened her door and pulled her out. "Get some fresh air, Winry. I'm gonna help you to the passenger's side, okay? This is why I came with you."

"I don't need—" she stumbled, cutting off the rest of her sentence.

"You were saying?" Ed chuckled after catching her with the arm that was already around her.

"Oh, just drop me in the car, will you?"

Fortunately, it was only a half hour drive to the other side of the city, but Ed feared that Winry's condition might worsen drastically in even that short a time frame.

First, he noticed her breaths get shorter and faster.

"Winry, do you need me to roll the window down? I'd help you on your side if I could."

"Y-yeah, maybe."

A few minutes later, he heard her whimpering quietly. He laid a comforting hand on her thigh. "What's happening? Is there anything I can do?"

"I don't know. I should have known this would happen. Even a normal flu shot wipes me out the whole next day, plus I hear it's worse if you've had covid before, and who knows, maybe I did, and—" he squeezed her leg, and she added in a small voice, "Maybe you could hold my hand?"

"Of course I'll hold your hand, hon," he smiled for her sake, adding under his breath, "and maybe speed a bit so we can get you home faster."

A few more minutes, and her whimpers grew louder. Winry's hand gripped his like a lifeline.

"Ed, I can't do this," she panted.

"You're so freaking strong, Winry. Just hold on a little longer. Squeeze my hand as tight as you want."

Her bone-crushing grip renewed his sense of urgency.

"Help me," she pleaded.

"What can I do, baby?"

"Help me," she echoed. "It hurts. It hurts so much."

"I'm getting you home as fast as I can. You're amazing, Winry."

She only moaned in response.

"I wanna die, I wanna die, I wanna die," she wept.

"Shh, I love you too much for that. You're my wife. You're my strong, brilliant, amazing wife, and I'd give up my entire body before I'd let you die. You hear me?"

"Mhm."

"Hey, do you remember when I said your hands are meant to give life?"

"Mhm."

"Well, keep holding my hand so that my hand give you life. We're so close. Just hang in there."

"I still wanna die," she sniffed.

"I'm gonna do what I can, okay, baby?"

Ed did his best to keep his hands from trembling. He had to stay strong for Winry. But what if this was a rare side effect? What if she actually was dying? No. No. It was just a vaccine. It'd be ridiculous if she was actually dying, but it didn't keep him from wondering if she needed to see a doctor. But please, he prayed to any deity that would listen, please let me do something for Winry.

So he sang. He sang her the lullabies of Trisha Elric. He sang her the old, cheesy love songs she had a soft spot for. When he ran out of those, he sang an oddly gentle version of some pop punk songs he listened to. He sang anything he could think of, from classic musicals to popular songs that Winry danced to, even if he thought they were trash.

Although her moans and whimpers didn't grow any quieter, she mewled, "You sing really pretty, Ed. Why don't you do it more?"

"If you make it through this, I'll sing for you whenever you want, Mrs. Rockbell. What song do you want next? We're almost home, and then you can lie down and I'll get you whatever you want. Does that sound okay?" He pressed a kiss to her hand, keeping his eyes on the road. He'd probably regret his promises to sing, but right then, he couldn't care less.

Ed took her song request and parked in front of their home shortly after. Walking over to the passenger side, he carefully pulled Winry out and carried her up the stairs past her shop to their apartment above it. She curled into his chest until he laid her on their bed.

"Equivalent exchange," he kissed her burning forehead. "You've taken care of me when you and Granny had to give me life-saving surgery after I lost my arm and leg. Now I get to look after you when you need me."

Winry smacked him weakly. "Alchemy freak."

"Gearhead," he laughed softly. "Try to sleep, if you can. I'll be right here the whole time if you need my hand again. Just tell me if you need anything, and I'll get it."

She smiled, then crumpled with a moan. After several seconds, she turned her head to look at Edward.

"Even if I want a purple polka dotted hippopotamus?"

Ed laughed. "Even if you want a purple polka dotted hippopotamus."

[accidentally-a-writer]

Ohhhhhh I will never, ever get tired of reading your whump stuff! That list is amazing! I'd like to see something with poison and hallucination with a side of blackmail? I could see maybe Hamilton eating/drinking something poisonous intended for Washington (or even worse Washington gave it to him as a thank you/good job), and he has to try to bargain with the enemy for a supposed antidote...

“Sir?” Washington looked up from his supper at the uncharacteristically shaky voice of his aide. Worry furrowed his brow as he watched the boy sway. 

Then, he collapsed. 

“Hamilton!” The general rushed from his place at the table, kneeling next to the fallen boy. He was convulsing and unresponsive. “Someone get help.” George looked around at the callous and unmoving forms of their hosts and servants. “What are you doing? Get help!” 

The lord of the manor wiped his mouth casually, regarding Hamilton as if he were mildly interesting and not dying. 

“Interesting,” he mused, much to Washington’s frustration. “This, I had not expected…” 

“What the Hell are you talking about? He needs help!” 

And it suddenly dawned on Washington. He’d seen this before, the convulsing, and the sweating and- the wine, spreading around Alexander like it were blood. 

“Oh my God,” Washington whispered, his voice sounding disbelieving and almost devastated. “You’ve poisoned him.” 

“Not exactly.” A new voice rang from the corner of the room, startling Washington, who protectively tightened his grip on Alexander. “He was merely paid to play host, quite handsomely might I add, and the boy was not our intended target. Tell me Washington, does he make a habit of switching your wineglass with his own?” 

Washington closed his eyes, the poison was intended for him. That single fact devastated the general, not because someone had tried to kill him, but because Alexander was suffering for it. He finally tore his eyes away from the still seizing form of Hamilton to look at the new addition to the dinner party. 

Redcoat, about the same age as Washington, handsome, dangerous, psychotic; he was enjoying this. 

“I mean, if you ever doubted his loyalty, you can now be assured that he would truly die for you,” he taunted with a smirk. The lord who Washington had foolishly trusted stood and left them to their business. 

“What comes now? Are you going to kill me too?” 

“Oh Heavens no, that’d be no fun at all.” The man removed his gloves and pistol, handing them to the servant waiting for his orders. “The game’s just begun.” 

“This isn’t a game, he’s dying,” the general cried. Washington hated how his voice broke. It was only more leverage for these sadists to use. 

“Yes, he is, and I’m sure you know exactly how. You’ve seen this poison work before, it can take days Washington, and it is a slow and painful process.”

“Who are you? What do you want?!” 

The man only smirked, moving around Washington and sitting at Alexander’s place at the table.  Casually, he began to eat what Alexander had left before collapsing. Washington gaped at the obvious madman, his thoughts whirling rapidly in his mind. 

“It’s Belladonna, general,” the man reported, still sounding amused. “And you won’t find any antidote for miles, by the time you actually find a way out of here, and get back with the antidote, your boy will be cold.” 

Washington glared at him, wishing for his pistol so he could shoot him dead right here. Hamilton began to still, and for a second Washington panicked. However, Hamilton’s heart was still beating, far too fast, but it was beating. 

“It’s quite potent, and with how he reacted with it, I’d say six, maybe seven hours. He’s doing remarkably well. You should be proud.” 

“Enough of these games,” Washington hissed, “what do you want?” 

The man rolled his eyes and went back to his (Hamilton’s) meal. “Yes, yes, yes, you want answers.” 

“Is that what you want too? Information?” 

“Smart boy.” The man sounded genuinely impressed, but in such a way that it was like he was talking to a dog and not a person. “It’s certainly interesting to see… Our original plan was for you to take the poison, we could have our fun with your pretty-boy aide, take whatever information he would give to make it stop, and we’d have killed two birds with one stone. I like this better, don’t you?” 

“He’s dying.”

“Yes, but you can save him.” The man laughed at Washington’s hopeful expression. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a vial of black liquid. “It looks quite sinister, but it is in fact the only thing that can help your boy.” The redcoat completely shifted his demeanour, suddenly completely professional. “Now, come sit with me, and let’s discuss the matter at hand.” 

Washington reluctantly did as he was told, loathe to leave Alexander on the floor as he was. 

“What’s your name,” the general asked, stiffly lowering himself into a dinner chair. His eyes kept wandering back to the prone form sprawled on the floor. 

“Smith,” the man answered, as if he were truly at a dinner party. “I always thought a first impression should be as strong as your character, did I make a strong first impression, George?” 

Washington refused to answer. 

“I wasn’t asking out of jest,” Smith continued, “I truly want to know; does he make a habit of switching your wineglasses?” 

“Sometimes,” Washington grit out, his fist clenched in front of him on the table. “He knows I don’t like him doing it.” 

“With good reason,” Smith absently cast his gaze towards the boy, smiling at his form. “I can get someone to clean him up if you wish.” 

“Don’t you dare touch him. You’ve done enough.” 

“The boy did it to himself. Now, what would you be willing to sacrifice to save him?” 

Smith watched Washington for his reaction. The British general was skilled in the art of reading into people’s unspoken responses rather than their spoken ones. And Washington’s response was that he would do anything that they asked. 

“I’m not a fan of cold-blooded murder.” 

“That isn’t an answer, general,” Smith chastised. “I expect an answer when I talk to you. You aren’t in control here, I am, and I have rules.” He smiled a Cheshire smile. “Firstly, you obey me, unquestionably. Second, when I ask you a question you tell me the truth, the full truth, immediately. Thirdly, know that that boy is now our property, and what we do with him is our choice; not yours. So, what are you willing to do to make sure we don’t decide to let him die?” 

Washington promptly closed his mouth, not willing to risk making this man angry enough that he does something drastic. 

“Alright,” Smith slammed his cutlery against the table, Washington jumped at the hard sound. “If you won’t answer me, I suppose we’re done here. Have fun watching the whelp die.�� 

Before Washington got his first plea past his lips Smith was up and gone, locking the door from the outside. Information may have something to do with this entire scheme but it certainly wasn’t the only reason. Smith enjoyed toying with them, he liked the control, and he had drastic mood swings. This all made him a very dangerous man. 

Alexander groaned, refocusing the general onto what was important. He kneeled next to him as he began to retch and convulse. Washington quickly turned him onto his side as Hamilton violently got sick. 

“That’s it Alexander, that’s it, get it out.” The general carded his fingers through his aide’s hair, hating how Alexander moaned pitifully.

There were very few people who had earned the hatred of George Washington; the fiends that had poisoned Hamilton were on that list. 

Suddenly, like new life had been breathed into the boy, Alexander heaved a gasp. His eyes shot open, dilated beyond healthy and unseeing. 

“We have to go, we have to leave,” he gasped. 

“What? Alexander, it’s okay, you need to calm down.” 

“No! Don’t you see the water? The water is everywhere, it’s filling up the room and the door and we’re going to drown!” 

Washington looked around in confusion, “Alexander there’s no water.” 

“Don’t you see it? We must go, or we will surely die!” 

Washington grasped his arm, causing Hamilton to let out a shrill scream and scramble backwards until his back hit the wall. He attacked his arms trying to fling imaginary insects away from his body. 

“What Hell is this?” Hamilton cried, scratching at his skin. “Where did the spiders come from? How have they invaded my skin?” 

It was at that moment Washington remembered that Belladonna caused vivid and extremely distressing hallucinations. Cursing himself for not realizing sooner the general gently kneeled next to Alexander, taking his hands in his own as gently as possible. He held them together, trying not to look at the bloody scratches Hamilton had left on his own skin. 

“Son, I need you to look at me, yes?” The general murmured into his ear, pulling the aide a bit closer into his chest. Alexander did so, his eyes going wide and his breathing picking up in fear. “I know it’s scary, and I know you’re confused, but you just have to tell yourself it’s not real, okay?” 

He got no response, but he felt Hamilton try and calm his breathing. The shaking returned, much to George’s dismay, but did not escalate into full convulsions. Yet. He continued to get sick, and occasionally spasming with pain. 

Washington held Alexander close for nearly an hour, his inner thoughts in turmoil. It was awful, seeing Alexander like this. He cared for the boy, he cared far more than he ever thought was possible. 

So seeing him in this state was like driving a dagger through Washington’s heart. He was helpless to do anything except watch as the boy who he loved like a son die, all because he was too loyal for his own goal. 

“I’ll do anything you want,” Washington finally begged, screaming at no where in particular, hoping someone would hear him. “Please come back, I’ll do whatever you want! Just help him.” 

The door finally opened and Smith entered with a self-satisfied grin plastered on his face. 

“Come here Washington,” he ordered, pointing to a chair at the table. “Sit down and do exactly as I say, and the antidote is yours.” 

Washington did as he was told immediately, only pausing to place a light kiss on the top of Alexander’s hair. The boy was flickering in and out of consciousness, Washington left him on the ground, making him as comfortable as he could. 

Smith watched him cross the room, his crocodile grin never fading. Washington sat in the allotted chair tensely, never taking his eyes off the enemy. The British general’s fingers slithered over Washington’s shoulders, squeezing them lightly before retracting. A quill and a parchment were produced, both offered to Washington without a glance. 

George stared at the tools blankly, too careful to ask what he was to do with them. Luckily, his question was answered without him asking. 

“Write down the name of all the most important spies in the British army, and where they are stationed. Then I want where you keep your supplies and ammunition hideaways and trading routes.” 

Washington froze. He couldn’t give them that information, no matter how much he wanted to, that would effectively kill hundreds of men and lose multiple battles, if not the war, for the revolutionaries. 

“Are you hesitating, General Washington?” Smith mocked him, “Does the boy not mean as much as you said he did? What happened to ‘doing anything we wanted,’ hm?” 

“I ca-can’t tell you what you want to know…” George’s voice shook as he spoke, knowing the response would not bode well for either Hamilton or him. 

Smith’s whole demeanour changed, scaring George without end. 

“Oh, you can’t, eh? Perhaps I was right then, maybe the kid doesn’t mean as much as you let on. Let’s just finish this now then, right?” 

George didn’t even have time to move before the pistol was out and pointed at Hamilton’s prone form.  

“No!” 

The gun was cocked. “This is the more humane death anyways, Washington, you should be glad. And since you’re not willing to give me what I want…” 

“Please!” Washington was out of his seat, making a mad rush for the gun in Smith’s hold. “I’ll tell you whatever you want, just don’t kill him.” 

Smith backed off, putting the gun on the table languidly. He regarded Washington carefully and smiled. “You just broke two of our rules, and I do believe I warned you what the consequence of the third would be.” 

Washington felt tears flush his eyes, violently and suddenly, just like Alexander’s convulsions. 

“I’m begging you…” he whispered desperately. 

“I know,” Smith replied. He removed the antidote from his uniform and promptly smashed it to the ground. 

Washington screamed. 

[chasholidays]

Excited you're doing this again! I'd like to request Monty/Miller, board game night was supposed to be fun how did it end up like this

Raven is the first one to notice the problem with game night, but it really should have been Monty, because as soon as she lays it out, it’s both obvious and terrifying.

“Sure, you’re chill,” is how she explains it, “but one chill person can’t actually turn the entire tide of an evening.”

“I’m not the only chill person. We don’t have to calm everyone down, just–Clarke,” he says.

Raven snorts. “You wish it was just Clarke. But you’ve got Clarke and Bellamy, so, like, no matter how cool anyone else is, they’re going to fight to the death because they don’t know how to just make out.”

There is no counterargument to this; it is undeniable. “Yeah, so they can just play their own game.”

“You’ve also got Octavia, she’s competitive. And me.”

“You?”

“Sorry, I’m definitely competitive. I want to kick everyone’s ass. Jasper’s a bad loser, Miller’s a wild card, so that just leaves you and Lincoln to be normal humans who aren’t assholes. And that’s not enough to tip the scales.”

“Okay, but this isn’t my first rodeo,” says Monty. “I know how this works.”

“Uh huh.”

“Co-op games,” he says. “Collaboration. Stuff where we’re working together. Which is–”

“So naive,” says Raven. “So optimistic. You think we can’t fight over a cooperative game? We still have to agree on things. We can barely decide on where to order takeout. Cooperative games might be worse than competitive ones.”

It’s a valid point that Monty would prefer not to think about, but game night is in three hours and he needs a plan. “Fuck.”

“Nothing is safe,” Raven says. “There is no good-case scenario here. You’re on damage control. If there are survivors, you win, but I’m not optimistic.”

“And you’re not going to help.”

She pats his shoulder. “Game night is every person for themselves, Monty.”

“Thanks. Helpful. It’s going to be fine,” he adds, because he’s pretty sure that’s a thing. Saying things and hoping that will make them true. “We’ll have fun.”

“Uh huh. Sure we will.”

*

Monty had exactly one goal with game night: more time with Miller. Not that he doesn’t see Miller roughly twice a month, which is about as much as he sees anyone he doesn’t live or work with. But he doesn’t have a crush on any of his other friends, so he doesn’t consider it a problem. Monty doesn’t tend to need a lot of company; between Jasper and Raven as roommates, he’s mostly set for day-to-day interactions. But he would like a significant other, and he’d like it to be Miller. And without any other ideas to see more of him (aside from something truly drastic, like asking him on a date), he decided to have a board game night, and somehow everyone agreed, and now, he assumes, they are all going to die.

Maybe he shouldn’t date. Maybe he wasn’t made for that. This is a sign.

But it’s too late to change things now, so the only way forward is through. The best he can hope for is a game that does not result in bloodshed.

Me: Raven has pointed out there’s a 95% chance everyone is going to die at game night

Miller: She’s good at math, I’d trust herWho’s coming again?

Me: You, me, Raven, Jasper, Lincoln, Bellamy, Octavia, ClarkeI’m most worried about Bellamy and Clarke but Octavia is a wild card and Raven says she’s competitive tooSo likeWe need a non-fatal game

Miller: Can we just lock Bellamy and Clarke in a closet?Either they kill each other or hook up and either way the rest of us are safe

Me: I figured that would be a last resort

Miller: Well, it’s your funeralOkaySo, it’s eight people?

Me: Yeah

Miller: OkayWhat are you doing?

Me: Right now?

Miller: YeahStrategizing would be easier in person, if I can just come over

Me: OhSureIt’s as clean as it’s going to getCome by whenever

Miller: CoolOmw

*

Miller doesn’t even bother with greetings, just opens with, “So, I think we need two pods.”

“Two pods?” Monty echoes, feeling lost. Miller is shedding his coat and hat and he’s wearing a tight t-shirt and is in Monty’s apartment, which is a lot to deal with. It’s going to take him a minute to catch up.

“Yeah. Two games, four players each. I think we can’t have Bellamy and Clarke playing together. It’s not safe.”

“That’s probably true.”

“Bellamy and Octavia is risky too. Sibling rivalry. So that means Clarke and O in one pod and Bellamy and Raven in the other.”

“That checks out, yeah. You’ve thought about this a lot.”

“Dude, I’ve played board games with Bellamy and Octavia before. I know how this works.”

“Is it as bad as I think it is?”

“They regress like twenty years, yeah.”

“Okay, so—that’s a good start. Lincoln should be in Octavia’s pod, he’s good with her, and then—“

If he wants to be with Miller, Jasper would have to be their fourth, but he doesn’t really have any reason to suggest it. Everyone thinks of him and Jasper as a matched pair; it would be natural to put them together.

But Miller says, “I should go with Bellamy, I’m good with him too. So that leaves you and Jasper.”

“I’ll go with you guys, Clarke and Octavia sounds like a lot. Jasper can deal with that.”

Miller smirks. “Yeah, that sounds right. Okay, cool, that’s done.”

“Yeah, you came a long way for a pretty short conversation.”

“Not that long. And I figured I could hang out. You have any cool two-player games?”

“I can think of something. And we need to figure out what we’re playing tonight.”

“Yeah, I’m sure we can keep busy,” says Miller, and Monty knows it’s not supposed to sound like a come on, so he doesn’t take it as one.

“Definitely,” he says instead. “Let’s see what we’ve got.”

*

The plan does work, for the first round of games. Monty, Miller, Raven, and Octavia have a perfectly civil game of Tokaido, and the other table seems to do fine with Above and Below, and then Clarke says, “So, round two?” and Monty looks at Miller with some mild terror.

“Yeah!” says Octavia. “I want to play that witch game.”

“I love the witch game!” says Jasper, and Raven agrees, and suddenly the four of them are on one side with Broom Service and Monty is left with Miller, Bellamy, and Clarke.

Well, the other table might survive this, anyway. They might not all die.

“So, what are we playing?” asks Bellamy.

This is where Monty has some chance to get the whole thing back on track. He can pick a game that won’t involve much opportunity for Bellamy and Clarke to be in direct competition, one where they can’t fuck with each other. Something–

“This one looks cute,” says Clarke, and Monty winces.

“That one’s–”

“That looks fun,” Bellamy adds.

And it is. Underlings of Underwing is a fun, cute game that Clarke will probably enjoy. It has color theory and dragons and Monty really likes it.

It’s just that there’s all this resource management, and Bellamy and Clarke are going to be able to screw each other over, and they probably will, and while that seems to be foreplay for them, it’s incredibly stressful for everyone else who’s going to be interacting with them.

But Miller says, “Sure, I’m in,” which means Monty has no one on his side, and also that if he doesn’t play, he won’t have any reason to interact with Miller, so apparently this is how it’s going to be.

And it’s honestly not as bad as he thought it would be. Which, admittedly, says more about the power of his own imagination than anything, but still. He’s taking any victories he can get at this point. Bellamy and Clarke have developed an incoherent rivalry before the first turn is over, both more focused on attempting to screw the other one over than they are on actually winning, which is both a curse and a blessing.

Really, the biggest problem there is that Monty thinks he might win, and he’s not sure if they’ll let him live through the victory. He would be much happier coming in last.

As it turns out, though, Bellamy and Clarke have fun threatening to murder each other, and as soon as that game is over, they want to play another, and Monty thinks it might actually be okay, until Octavia literally flips the board on Broom Service.

“This is bullshit!”

Monty and Miller exchange a look, and Miller raises one shoulder, like he’s amazed they got this far.

“Don’t be a sore loser, O!” calls Bellamy, and she calls back, “Don’t be a fucking dickface, Bell!”

“Who needs another drink?” Monty asks, and every hand in the room, Blakes aside, goes up.

He nods. “Cool. That’s what I thought.”

*

“That was actually really fun,” is Miller’s final assessment.

“I think Lincoln has a black eye,” says Raven.

“He’s fine,” says Jasper. “That went really well!”

Miller looks dubious. “I said it was fun, not that it went well. Big difference.”

“Miller’s into trainwrecks,” says Raven.

“Who isn’t?”

Monty’s mostly excited that Miller hasn’t left yet. He had a stressful, bizarre, vaguely traumatizing evening, but now that it’s over and no one actually died, he can look at it with the benefit of hindsight and admit that while it wasn’t as good as he hoped it would be when he first imagined the night, he doesn’t think Lincoln actually got a black eye, and they didn’t play Monopoly, so no relationships were actually ruined forever, and everyone had some amount of fun.

And, again, Miller is still around. That’s the best part of the night.

Raven knows it too, because she yanks Jasper’s arm. “Come on, I want to show you this new video game.”

“You do?” asks Jasper, and then he catches on. “Oh, yeah, you do! What a great idea. Please show me all your video games.”

Monty rubs his face, but Miller just smiles. “Sounds like a good game.”

“Yeah, we got so many details about it.” It’s not hard to smile back, though. “Thanks for all your help. I think we got through that with as little bloodshed as was possible, with this group.”

“No problem.” He clears his throat. “Honestly, it was fun. I’ve been looking for an excuse to hang out with you.”

“Really? Because you don’t need one. Like, we could just hang out. But,” he adds, “in the interest of full disclosure, I did set up game night just so I’d have an excuse to hang out with you.”

“There have got to be safer ways for us to spend time together.”

Monty swallows hard. “Like a date, maybe?”

“A date sounds a lot easier, yeah,” says Miller, and leans in for a kiss.

So, overall, game night is a resounding success. 10/10, would recommend.

But maybe not more than once a month. Just to be safe.

[eglentyne-morven]

So what you gotta do is make a trip to Goodwill.

Find a table. It don't matter, it can be a TV tray it you want the portability. Find some bowls, something that looks witchy, or whatever you like. Find a wine glass, or a goblet, if it's silver plated even better. You find all sorts of weird shit that people couldn't manage to get rid of at their yard sales.

You can get an altar cloth. Any pretty scarf or handkerchief works. Red is my favorite. I like doilies on my altar too. Everyone's got doilies.

Okay now you need to go to the Dollar Tree. This where you get your candles. Oh, they got candle holders too. You might have found some of those at Goodwill, because people are always trying to get rid of these, but if you didn't, Dollar Tree is your friend.

And you can hit up the Walmart because they got incense and incense burners for cheap. They might have some lovely odds and ends to decorate if you want to.

Okay, so you got a bowl for water, a bowl for salt, you got candles, you got a goblet, and some incense, now you need an instrument with which to summon. If you are broke then an athame is not in the cards for you, but you can go out and pluck down a branch. I'd say it's the second best thing. And you might find some other little pretty things out there too, like rocks or pine cones, or seeds and flowers, or animal bones and just whatever. If you take something, don't forget to leave something.

And if you want to know a secret, you don't need any of this. All you need is yourself and your indomitable will to do ritual. You don't need an altar. It's just nice to have these things.

Now I'm not going to go into why you would want all these things, and how to use them, or how to cleanse and consecrate your tools, or how to actually go about using your altar for magick or ritual. Either you know and if you don't, I wouldn't want to deny you the pleasure of finding all this information.

Seriously, this was me fifteen years ago, broke as hell and scraping pennies for used stuff at Goodwill. I got my first altar at a yard sale for free. The woman just gave it to me then I hauled that thing home three blocks. Before that I used the top of my dresser. Then I would steal my mom's table salt. Like all of it.

And you might think things are mismatched, and that's okay. They may not be the prettiest and that's okay. I used tarnished candlesticks sometimes (I'm gonna have to take some drastic measures to pull this tarnish off these things are OLD). I pull things out of my kitchen cabinet to use in ritual. My athame is beat up but I love it. It has a zingy kind of feel to it that's worlds better than a new athame that I would have to go through all the rigamarole to cleanse, and consecrate, and build up all that feel goodness that makes it so zingy.

And when it comes time to upgrade, you'll have the money. You will outgrow your dinky altar tools for others. You will find things and in your heart know they must belong to you. And you won't know you need them until you see them. It's bizarre how that works.

Go the distance, and bright blessings 💐

Please help

Does anyone know how to make a cheap, makeshift altar? Im hella broke