#I even got polyps just take your pick

[naavispider]

Quaritch helping Spider re-apply his stripes. That’s it that’s the prompt 💖

Thank you! I loved this one 💞💙 Words: 2.6k

💙 Stripes 💙

“Hey! Hands off.”

Spider looked up conspicuously from where he’d been attempting to open the drawstring of Wainfleet’s pack. He held his hands up in a sign of surrender, an air of annoyance settling heavily on his shoulders. 

“The hell?” Quaritch’s second in command complained across the clearing. “Since when are you allowed to go through our shit?” 

Spider scowled. It wasn’t like he was up to no good. He wasn’t searching for weapons or anything like that. 

Quaritch looked over from where he’d been standing sentry on the outskirts of the camp, rifle in hand. 

“What are you after anyway?”

“Your mom.”

Quaritch jerked his chin at Wainfleet, his highly trained ears picking up the accusatory tone in Spider’s voice. He strode over. “What are you up to, kid?”

Spider tried to repress his irritation. It was none of their business, for Eywa’s sake. Where was the trust? “Have you got a bowl?”

Quaritch’s recombinant eyebrows rose an inch higher up his brow, while Wainfleet’s eyes narrowed. “A bowl?” he repeated. 

Spider nodded. 

“Now what do you want a bowl for?” 

He had to roll his eyes. He couldn’t help it. He hated having to explain every little thing to them. Unlike with Wainfleet, he chose not to take the piss. “To grind yovo berries in, if you gotta know.”

He stared at Quaritch, who seemed to be assessing him. 

“Is that a good enough reason?” 

Quaritch looked from Spider’s angry expression, over to the pile of berries he’d collected, and finally back to the fading blue stripes on Spider’s arms and chest. He pursed his lips and Spider wondered if he was putting two and two together. 

“Lyle, grab a tin.”

Wainfleet mumbled mutinously as he got up from his position resting against a tree trunk. Spider didn’t know if Quaritch had realised what he was up to, but he was grateful - and surprised - that he had decided to help. 

Spider smiled sarcastically as he caught the recom-sized camping bowl that Wainfleet threw in his direction. “Thanks so much.” 

“Anything to help my favourite feral man-child,” Wainfleet replied with an equal amount of sarcasm as Quaritch returned back to standing guard.

“I’m the only feral man-child here.”

“Precisely,” muttered Wainfleet darkly. 

Spider flipped him off. He retreated back to his pile of berries and scooped them into the tin. Then, he left Wainfleet dozing against the tree and wandered over to the nearest bladder polyp, plucking it carefully at its root to preserve the juice inside. He was still missing a few of the other ingredients to maximise the dye, but he was working with what he had. Returning to the tin of berries, he stuck his tongue between his teeth as he squeezed the sap from out of the polyp, adding it to the fruit. 

He had been away from home for what must be two weeks by now, and his stripes had started to fade a few days back. He’d noticed it almost immediately, and without their colour staining his skin he felt like a different person. They’d unintentionally become his trademark. However, it was about more than just retaining his identity whilst stuck playing House with the enemy. The marks gave him confidence and reminded him that he had something to go back to after this was all over - people who would miss him. Without them, he felt physically different too. Almost colder, even. Like they provided a protection he didn’t know he’d been carrying. He knew it was stupid, but deep down he sometimes wondered if Eywa would still be able to recognise him. She’d looked out for him his whole life, Spider believed that. Ever since he was small. Too small to be outside in an environment that wasn’t created for him. She had protected him - there was no other explanation. And now, he was losing his only connection he had left with her. 

He picked up a wide stick that he’d found earlier, perfectly sized for grinding, and began to mash the fruit. When it was a decent consistency (he had to return for another polyp) he dipped his middle finger in and slowly began to layer the mixture over the stripes on his legs. Small, narrow strokes that mimicked the natural patterns of the Na’vi. It had taken him years to perfect, spending hours with Kiri trying to get it right. He remembered back when he first started doing this. He must have been about seven, and had decided to just rub the blue fruit over himself in lines. It looked ridiculous. Everyone either laughed or pitied him. 

The only person who didn’t was Kiri. 

His heart lurched as he realised how much he missed her. 

Thankfully, a scoff pulled him from his thoughts. He spun around ready to snap at Wainfleet, already on the defensive, only to find the recom watching him with amusement, not malice.

“That’s real cute, kid.”

“Er… thanks,” Spider replied, not believing Wainfleet for one moment. 

“Where did you learn that?” For some reason, he seemed genuinely interested. 

Spider shrugged. “I dunno. I just sort of experimented until I got it right. It’s missing the tstxa'a juice and Spartan flowers, but times are desperate.” He said it jovially, but he didn’t miss how Wainfleet’s ears flicked back when he mentioned his captivity. 

“You made it up yourself?” He made a low whistle. “You could have been a right little scientist if you were born on Earth.”

The thought made Spider physically cringe. 

“Aw, come on! Did you never wonder what your life would have been like if you were raised on your actual home planet?” “Nope,” he replied. He could answer with absolute certainty. 

Wainfeet frowned disbelievingly. “Never?”

“That place isn’t my home. I don’t belong there any more than I belong on Naranawm, or anywhere else. Eywa'eveng is my home.”

“But you must have been curious?”

Spider paused circling his thigh with the paint. “Would you be curious? If the planet was dying and it was thanks to your race that did it?” 

Wainfleet pulled a contemplative face. “I think so, yeah.”

“Yeah, well… Are you honestly telling me it’s that great?”

Wainfleet’s shoulders sagged infinitesimally, though he kept up a good show of bravado. “I guess not. But at least it has decent hot dogs.”

Spider couldn’t imagine why warm canines were of any benefit to him, and he didn’t care to ask. He returned to painting his skin. His ankles and calves had pretty much dried off by now, so he gently brushed off the powdery excess and decided to tackle his left arm. 

After about thirty minutes, Quaritch swapped out with Mansk for guard duty, and of course came strolling over to Spider. 

“What are you up to?” His eyes widened curiously when he saw Spider with the tin of paint. 

Spider was currently struggling to apply the dye far enough over his right shoulder. He hadn’t yet thought of a plan about how to do his back. “Nothing,” he replied bluntly.

Unfortunately, Quaritch ignored the blatant hint and crouched down beside him, watching him work. 

“The cavalry's arrived, kid.” Wainfleet looked relieved as he sat up from his nap. “For a while I was worried he’d ask me to help him.”

Spider grit his teeth. As if he’d sink that low. 

Quaritch watched him thoughtfully, which Spider hated. He wasn’t used to being studied so hard, especially not by someone as physically intimidating as Miles Quaritch. “Do you want a hand?”

“Yeah… I think I’m good, thanks.”

Quaritch just looked amused and slightly baffled. “Right.” He paused. “And how exactly do you plan on doing your back?”

It was an uncomfortable question - one that made Spider put down his tin of dye and stop trying to reach some unreachable area. “I’ll manage,” he growled. 

He finally looked at Quaritch, who held his gaze. He didn’t know what the man was waiting for, but he found out when the tin was snatched from his hands and he was nudged gently forwards so he fell onto his hands. “What are you doing?” he exclaimed indignantly.

Quaritch shuffled victoriously behind him, tin in hand and appraising the faint marks on his son’s back. “Lending a hand,” he explained condescendingly. “You do want your back done, don’t you?”

For a moment, Spider was tempted to say no, he didn’t. But as soon as the words bubbled to his mouth, they died on his tongue. He did want his back done, and for that to happen he knew he’d have to accept some form of help. He looked behind him to see that Quaritch was smirking, and he bristled. He knew Quaritch was enjoying this. But he didn’t hate it enough to draw a line. 

“Just… go over the marks that are already there.”

“You got it, tiger.”

“And don’t go over the lines.”

“Okay.”

Spider waited in anticipation to feel Quaritch’s touch. Just before he felt a finger brush against him, he blurted out again.

“Just a thin layer. The dye’s strong.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“Eywa,” he cursed under his breath, in disbelief that he was letting this happen. The only person he ever asked to help him was Kiri. This felt wrong, like a violation of something special that only the two of them did. 

Times are desperate, he thought to himself. 

He was able to stop himself from flinching away when Quaritch gripped his shoulder, and with the other hand began to trace the intricate markings that had become so important to him. 

It felt wrong. But he didn’t shake the man away either. It was a sensation he needed to get used to - Quaritch’s fingers were larger and more calloused than Kiri’s, but he applied the dye with just the same level of care. It surprised Spider how gently the recom went. How slow and careful his strokes were. 

Eywa, he missed the sensation. If he closed his eyes and didn’t think too hard, he could almost imagine he was back home at High Camp with Kiri, and everything was back to the way it should be. His back muscles slowly started to relax, and both were quiet for a while.

“So who normally helps you?” Quaritch broke the silence. 

“Kiri,” Spider answered without realising. 

“And who’s that?”

“She’s just my friend,” he answered truthfully. He didn’t like to talk about her with Quaritch. 

“Is that the five fingered one?” Quaritch asked from behind. Spider imagined understanding dawning on the recom’s face as he remembered their initial encounter.

“The one you were going to hurt? Yep.”

An awkwardness hung in the air around them. It surrounded the pair, making neither sure what to say next. Quaritch’s finger dipped back into the dye and continued to trace Spider’s skin lightly.

“We’re not out to hurt people, you know that right? We just got a mission to complete.”

“Sounds about right. I wonder if Hitler thought the same.”

Quaritch pulled away, using the hand that wasn’t coated in paint to twist Spider around to face him. “Are you serious?”

“What?” Spider challenged.

“Hitler, really?”

The fury in Quaritch’s eyes was matched only by another expression that wasn’t so easily placed. After a moment of staring at him, Spider finally realised what it was - hurt. 

A flicker of doubt flared in Spider’s chest. Had he just said something wrong? He tried to remember everything Norm had told him about that particular war in Earth’s history. He was fairly sure he remembered right. It was a genocide. 

“You’re young. You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Quaritch decided, spinning Spider around a little more forcefully than before, and returning to the stripes. “Never compare me to scum like that again.”

“Sorry,” Spider mumbled sarcastically. He wasn’t exactly sure what he was apologising for. 

Just as he thought silence had returned to the pair, Quaritch started up again. “Hitler was an evil piece of shit pretending to be a human being.”

“The parallels continue,” Spider muttered before he could stop himself. 

“Jesus Christ, Miles!” Spider was once again surprised at the outrage in the Colonel’s voice. “I know what you think of me. I know I’m playing for a different team than you. But I ain’t no genocidal maniac.”

You killed women and babies when you destroyed Hometree. You didn’t care that the clan would be decimated. You’re a war criminal. This time, he bit his tongue. 

As if reading his thoughts, Quaritch continued. “Miles Quaritch… that’s a different ballgame. But I’m not that man.”

Spider didn’t reply. 

“You hear me? Spider?”

He didn’t know how much he agreed with the morally ambiguous statement, but he backed down anyway. “Okay…”

For some unbeknownst reason, he felt himself feeling… bad. Which only confused him further. Now he was feeling guilty over upsetting the man’s feelings? Well, no. That wasn’t exactly true. But he was more confused than ever. Clearly, Quaritch believed he was a new person. A fresh start. But did Spider? Could he afford this version of his father a second chance? He didn’t know that he could. 

But it didn’t matter anyway because even if the recombinant version of Quaritch was completely separated morally and ethically from the original, this version still had crimes to answer for. The first and most major of which being colonising, although it was closely followed by kidnapping, Spider thought bitterly.

A few long moments passed, and Spider started to suspect that Quaritch was using the time to calm down rather than because he needed more time to finish the stripes.

“This is a piece of piss,” Quaritch finally broke the silence. 

Immediately, Spider tried to pull away dubiously, but Quaritch’s large hand kept him in place. 

“Relax, I just mean it’s easy.”

“Are you going over the lines?” Spider demanded. He wasn’t going to sit here if Quaritch was just going to fuck it up and make it look stupid. 

“No. It looks great.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Trust me. Lyle! Come here and vouch for me…”

Wainfleet groaned, but dutifully set his holotablet aside and came around Spider’s back. “Shit, Colonel, that ain’t half bad.”

“See, what did I tell you?”

“Hey Z! Come over here!” Spider groaned. The last thing he wanted was for the whole squad to be party to the humiliating experience. 

Zdinarsk approached with similar disdain to Wainfleet at first, but quickly recovered when she smirked her approval at the Colonel’s artistic licence. 

“Are you done yet?” he asked.

“Yep, all finished!”

“Right. Can I see?” He wasn’t about to take Quaritch and the recoms’ word for it.

Quaritch humoured him by pulling out his holotablet and taking a photo, handing it to Spider. Amazingly, it didn’t look half as shit as Spider had been expecting. The patterns danced across his skin in a decent impression of the Na’vi’s, just as he remembered. He felt far more like himself. 

“Not bad,” he sniffed.

“That all I get?”

“I’m not thanking you. I never asked you, remember?”

Wainfleet chuckled and Zdinarsk wolf whistled Spider’s boldness. 

“I mean, that’s true,” Wainfleet helpfully supported. 

Quaritch’s tail swished behind him as he stood. “Fine. But don’t come running to me when they start to fade again.”

The brief joy at having his stripes back died in Spider’s chest. It would take them another couple of weeks to fade. He wouldn’t still be here then, would he? 

Quaritch brushed the dirt from his pant leg, swinging his rifle back over his shoulder. He turned to the rest of the camp and announced his next order in a voice stronger than steel. “Start packing. We move in five.”

[kittenfangirl20]

(Some ideas I have been throwing around for the Adamsapple Little Mermaid or merman in this case since Adam will be Ariel)

*Lucifer was still obsessed with finding whoever it was that saved his from drowning, but he was also drawn to the young mute man he found at the beach earlier that day, his long hair had been cut to a more fashionable short length and was a lovely shade of brown, his skin had a light tan to it and his frame was a lean yet muscular build of a swimmer, but what truly caught Lucifer’s attention was the eyes, they were a hypnotic shade of gold, but Lucifer was determined to find who saved him and he knew the one who saved him had a voice, a beautiful voice that haunted his dreams, he smiled when he saw Charlie ran up to the guest, his little girl was so friendly to everyone, while he never regretted having Charlie as his child, he regretted marrying her mother, a mysterious woman named Lilith who suddenly appeared, seduced him, married him, had a child with him, and just as mysteriously disappeared when she got bored, Charlie ran over to the mystery guest, Adam, and tugged on his shirt*

Charlie: Are you the one who saved dad?

*Charlie remembered her nanny taking her out on the beach and she heard a song, she ran over to see merman with a golden tail singing to her dad who was passed out on the beach, even though this man’s hair was short instead of long like it had been on that day, she instantly recognized him, Adam knelt down with an enchanting smile and nodded at the young girl*

Charlie: Where is your pretty gold tail?

*she reached over and pat one of Adam’s legs wondering why he had them instead of the shimmery gold tail, Adam didn’t know if he could truly explain the deal he made with the sea witch Lilith where he only had three days to win Lucifer’s heart and get a kiss of true love from the young king, Adam already loved Lucifer with all of his heart, he just hoped that he could get Lucifer to feel the same way or else he would be transformed into one of those disgusting little polyps that Lilith kept in her garden, tears stung his eyes thinking about never being free again and stuck in that hideous form, to keep himself from crying he looked over at Lucifer which Charlie noticed*

Charlie: You love dad and gave up your tail so you can marry him?

*Adam sadly nodded hoping that his mother Sera was wrong about humans being heartless creatures who could never truly love anything, just then Charlie’s nanny Rosie walked over to them*

Rosie: Dinner is ready.

*Adam sat between Lucifer and Charlie as a large platter of ribs covered in BBQ sauce was brought out, Adam watched the food being served and watched how Lucifer was eating this new meal, Adam picked up one of the ribs and took a bite, he never had anything so delicious in his life, the meat was tender and he really enjoyed the sweet and tangy sauce covering this new meat he got to try, he started to really tear into the rib meat and blushed when he saw Lucifer smiling at him*

Lucifer: I should tell my chef that the ribs really pleased our new guest, he wanted to try out something new. I must say it is nice to try out something new that isn’t some type of seafood.

*Adam looked over at the handsome man wishing that he could tell him that he was the one who saved him and that he came here because he loved him and even before he knew Lucifer existed, he wanted to be a human and explore the world that created such amusing items*

Ariel: Adam

Eric: Lucifer

Ursula: Lilith

Flotsam and Jetsam: Alastor (though he will be combined into both)

Flouner: Eve (unlike most stories I make, Adam and Eve will just be childhood friends)

Sebastian: Lute (though her role will be a royal guard over an advisor)

Triton: Sera

Ariel’s sibling: Emily (just wanted to keep it to one sibling)

Carlotta: Rosie (she will act as a maid and Charlie’s nanny in this)

(I thought it would be interesting to have Lilith be both Ursula and Lucifer’s ex wife who seduced Lucifer because she was bored and found him handsome, like when she decides become more proactive, she basically comes up to demand Lucifer take her back while Adam is trying to figure out how to tell Lucifer that his ex wife is a dangerous sea witch who never loved him, I also would love to have a scene where Adam gets to try the ribs he loves in the canon series so much)

[evolutionsvoid]

There are just some species out there that seem to have been put on this planet for the main reason of making it more wondrous. Like they are the extra touches from a painter to really make the scene bloom and come to life. Obviously, yes, they actually do play a role in the ecosystem and food web, but I am talking more on whimsy here! Creatures and plants that you just look at and feel like you are witnessing a piece of living art. When you see great flocks of colorful birds take to the skies, or rivers packed with migrating fish as they leap and dance! I can certainly look at all these things and explain their purpose and what they are actually doing, but it does always force me to take a second and really drink in the sight. It always makes me happy when I experience things like this, because some days I feel like I have seen it all, or that I have grown numb to the wonders of nature. When I witness such incredible things, I am reminded that there is still so much to see. And perhaps I am not immune to the beauty and charm, no matter how many times I feel it. In fact, I think I grow more and more susceptible to it, as I always find new ways to fall in love with nature. This entry is on one of those species that really gave me one of those moments. When I stepped into the bustling streets of a local festival, enjoying all the lights, decorations and excited people. Seeing the parades and costumes go by, and then looking up from it all to see several Nectengshe floating through the sky, the stars of this wondrous festival. I would say words can't explain it, but I feel that I could given enough time and ink! What I should say is Eucella won't let me use the incredible amount of words I would need to explain it, so we will just say it was a breathtaking sight. I will always hold this species in a special place in my heart, from that first sight and the extraordinary festivities I got to partake in! 

The Nectengshe are often jokingly referred to as "tourist dragons" by the locals, but not meaning that this species is not from around here. What they mean is that outsiders and visitors who aren't familiar with this species will show up, look to the sky and scream "LOOK! DRAGONS!" or "BY THE GODS! DRAGONS!," to which all the locals laugh. Indeed, they find it funny because the Nectengshe are not dragons, not in the slightest. They aren't reptiles, in fact they don't even have bones! They are actually a colonial organism, similar to the Ikuchi, that grows and sticks together to create a serpentine shape. The whole "creature" is just a massive collection of specialized, sacs, tendrils and polyps that work together to act as a single being. By producing a special gas in combination to their incredibly light weight, they can easily float through the air, building and releasing this gas to let them rise and fall as needed. Though this brings to mind the idea of flight, they don't actually do any real flying or soaring. Rather, they prefer to let the wind take them, only using minor movements of their own to keep them upright and in one piece. When you see them live and in the wild, they make you think more of a decoration than a creature, like someone's puppet blew away and is now hanging above your head forever. I will admit, the dangling tentacles do bring to mind streamers, and that many decorations during the festival looked almost exactly like this species. 

For what they do, the answer is: not much. They just float through the air and live as long as fate lets them. For food, they use their tangling tentacles to pick up small bits from the air, like pollen, spores, tiny aerial creatures and such. They are adhesive and also have painful stingers for larger prey that gets tangled up. They sometimes eat the clumsy birds and bats that run into them, never picky as long as it doesn't break free from their grip. When a tendril has a hold of a good chunk of food, it retracts upward into the colony body and deposits it. The food will be digested and distributed, while the limb drops back down for more. It gets all it needs from the air around, be it prey or water. Their very slow and carefree looking lifestyle means they don't need a whole lot to get by, so a few days of slim pickings is no big deal for them. Also, the stinging tendrils they have help protect them from aerial predators, that is if something actually decides to attack them. As you can see, the Nectengshe bears a very strong resemblance to the dragons that can be found in this part of the world. Obviously, very few things really tangle with such powerful beasts, and it seems these colonies are trying to get in on that intimidation. Often a single glimpse of a dragon soaring through the sky is enough to make most creatures turn and run, so if the Nectengshe looks enough like it, many predators won't stick around for closer inspection. It is a pretty good trick, and one that has some unforeseen benefits! 

Since this species doesn't actually do a whole lot, just float and eat whatever runs into them, it makes sense that people that live around them don't mind them. The worst a Nectengshe can do is accidentally get blown onto their roofs or get tangled in some flags. If one dies and drops upon their heads, it is a problem, but more so for clean up and whatever stings you may get. However, it isn't that people don't pay attention to them, as folks actually do love this species a whole lot! It should be obvious with the festival I was at, which was celebrating the annual bloom of Nectengshe, when this species is most prevalent in their skies! The species is looked upon fondly, as others find them quite beautiful and serene to watch! The other thing to point out is that in this part of the world, most folk actually like and even revere dragons! They see them more as symbols of wisdom, strength and ascension rather than as giant destructive monsters. Yes, they do have their fair share of dragons that do cause death and damage, but it doesn't seem to dampen their overall views. And since the Nectengshe bear a resemblance to these beloved serpents, the species gets to enjoy some of that appreciation too! Like I said, a pretty neat trick! Just float around and do nothing, and still have crowds of adoring fans! Kind of makes me envious some days!   

Chlora Myron

Dryad Natural Historian

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

"Nectengshe"

So continues the endless journey of posting Not Dragons during Dragon Month. I swear I make real ones! I do! They are just....well.....uh.....hmmmm...

[donuts4evry1]

For no reason in particular I have a chart full of Jellyfish ephyra and if I have to go by the chart, my best guess is that this is the Chrysaora pacifica (just by virtue of it being a Japanese/American documentary and also the markings lining up, imo. That could be just the lighting tho)

apparently the C. pacifica and the C. melanaster were commonly mixed up too in aquariums so it's possible that the documentary might've also gotten it wrong(?). I don't think I've watched this before so it's all pure conjecture

Unknown, Japanese/ American nature documentary, life in oceans, 1970s

[bbrandy2002]

Little Shit:

Part 1: Wrapped Around A Finger

This is for week 96 of @wackydrabbles prompt: I can't -- I have a deadline. Prompt will be in bold.

Okay, so I couldnt fit all of this into the 2000 word limit and had to break it up and didn't have the heart to cut.

@kingliam2019​ you made a request for a Little Shit story on New Year’s Eve and it only took 5 months to come up with something, so this one is for you.

If you're unfamiliar with the Little Shit series (because it has been over a year since I wrote anything for it) Nikolas is Liam and Riley's 5 year old mischievous son who just can't help from wreaking havoc, especially toward Drake. He enjoys getting a rise out of him even if he does love his Uncle ... for the most part.

Warning: Crude Language. Mention of Covid and vaccinations.

Word count: 1928

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

Returning from the stables one afternoon, Drake was stopped at the palace door by security -- again -- for not wearing the required mask to enter.

“Mr. Walker, I’m afraid you need to have a mask on before I can allow you inside. I have to tell you this every day.”

“That because I fucking live here,” Drake grumbled as he snagged the offered surgical mask from the guard. 

“Not in the common areas, Mr. Walker.”

“You know this whole virus thing is just a conspiracy and Liam is using it to control all of us, right? He’s gone mad. This shit’s never gonna end.”

“I understand, sir.” The guard waited patiently as Drake begrudgingly slipped the mask over his face. “Perhaps, though, there is an alternative, one where you wouldn’t have to wear one anymore. They’re offering free vaccines in room 105 today. If you get the shot, you won’t need to wear a mask when you come inside,” the guard cajoled.

Drake let out a humorless laugh.“I’m sure that’s exactly what Liam wants: make a guinea pig out of me. Pump me full of that radioactive shit and in five years I’ll have a tail growing out of my face. No thanks.” Drake disregarded the information and moved past the man.

“But, sir .. .they’re giving away bottles of whiskey to the first 100 recipients. Last I heard, they were close to reaching that number. Top of the line stuff too.”

Drake turned on the heel of his work boots, glaring back, before asking skeptically. “Whiskey? They’re giving away alcohol to get this damn shot?” The guard nodded in response.

“Glenfiddich -- 1955, I believe. The King paid for it himself.”

Drake’s eyes widened in disbelief. “That’s a $90,000 bottle! And they’re just giving them away if you get this shot?”

“I … um … yes. His Majesty wants to reward those who are doing their part to create a healthier and safer Cordonia. He won’t rest until every last citizen is vaccinated from this dreaded virus. We can all fight this … together. What do you say, Mr. Walker? Will you help stop the spread?”

“For a $90,000 bottle of whiskey? Hell yeah! I’ll grow two tails out my heads for -- hold on a damn minute …” Drake burrowed his eyes into the guard who was sweating bullets, desperate for him to leave. “Where the hell is Nikolas at? This whole thing reeks of him..” Drake’s eyes began darting around the perimeter in a feverish search for the little prince’s battery operated car. “That little shit is blackmailing you, isn’t he? I should have known.”

The guard straightened and answered in a solemn tone, “I’m a serious professional, Mr. Walker. And I take your accusations of being anything but, demeaning to the loyalty and oath I’ve given to the Crown. How dare you stand there --”

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to suggest otherwise.” Drake ran a hand down his weary face in frustration. “It’s just that kid is the bane of my existence. I’ve had a long, hard day at work and I’m in no mood for his fucking stunts.”

The guard waved him off. “Nah, don’t worry about it. I’ve heard all about the stuff he’s pulled on you.” He leaned in closer and spoke in a hushed tone, “Between you and me, he’s a little pain in my ass too; always coming down here acting like he runs this place. If you ever need help teaching that kid a lesson, I’d be happy to help.”

Drake arched a brow. “Loyalty to the crown, huh?” The man regarded that retort with an awkward shrug. “Yeah, he needs his ass busted, that’s for sure. Liam thinks he just needs a little more love. I’d like to show him the Bianca F. Walker way of love.” He slammed his hands together.

The guard chuckled. “I’m with you on that. He needs something done; he’s out of control … Anyway, you should probably head on up there and get your shot -- and whiskey -- before they’re all out. I wish I’d have waited to get mine until today.”

Twisting his face in doubt, Drake walked around the corner and leaned up against the wall as he pulled out his phone. Something just didn’t feel right, and he determined the safest thing to do was shoot off a quick text to his best friend.

Drake: Liam, are you really giving away Glenfiddich, 1955, to get the Covid vaccine?

He waited a brief moment until a response came through; he looked down at his phone and read:

Liam: Yes.

Drake: Is that all you have to say about that?

Liam: Yes.

Liam: I am in meeting for Cordonia.

Drake tilted his head to the side and scratched at it as he stared at the odd message. He typed out another response.

Drake: What kind of meeting for Cordonia? And with who?

Liam: Top secret. Can't tell you.

Drake: Uh-huh. Where’s Nikolas?

Liam: With Riley and baby in Vallteria

Liam: Shit. Valtoria

Drake: What’s the capital of the United States?

Liam: Damn it Drake I’m in a meeting!

Drake: Then hurry up and answer

Liam: Washington D.C.

Drake: Who shot me at the costume ball?

Liam: You son of a bitch. IM IN A MEETING!

Drake let out a heavy groan and decided to just call Riley. He knew without a doubt Nikolas took Liam’s phone again. If he called Riley, though, there was no way the boy could pretend he was her.

Picking up almost instantly, Riley answered cheerfully, “Hello. Queen Riley speaking.”

“Riley, it’s Drake. I was just wondering if you and Liam were really giving away whiskey for getting this shot? Sounds a little fishy to me.”

There was a moment of silence, then a clicking noise, followed by a long beep, before Riley replied. “Yes. We. Are. Giving. Away …. Whiskey. Get.The.Shot.Drake.”

“The hell is wrong with your voice?”

“I.Am.In.Valtoria.”

“Riley, why the fuck are you enunciating every word?”

“I. Have. A. Cold. And. Must.Talk.Slow. Nikolas.Is.With.Me. And. I. Must. Get ... Going. Bye. Drake ...You. Ass. Hole.” 

Drake rolled his eyes and slipped the phone in his back pocket. “He’s got her phone, too. Damn that evil-ass kid.” He hesitantly made his way down to room 105; it wouldn’t hurt anything just to open the door and see if there was anything legit about this. As he approached, a lovely lady he knew from the kitchen exited with a big smile on her aging face and a bottle she cradled in her arms; he recognized it almost instantly as the Glenfiddich.

“Miss Milly,” Drake greeting kindly and held the door open for her. “You’re looking as lovely as ever.”

“Oh, you.” She laughed bashfully in her grandmotherly voice as she stepped into the corridor. “You’re always flirting with me, Drake. One of these days, I’m going to make you take me out on a date, buy me dinner, and give me a peck on the cheek at the end of the night.” 

Drake smiled back fondly at her. “You just tell me when, Miss Milly, and I’m there.” He motioned to the bottle in her hand. “Say … couldn’t help but notice that bottle of whiskey you’re carrying around; where’d you get that at? That brand doesn’t come cheap.”

“Ohhh, I know. But I heard they were giving shots in that room right there.” She pointed with a crooked finger. “And they said I was the 99th person to stop by, and gave this to me after getting my shot. I couldn’t believe my luck. And they only have one bottle left. I can finally put my grandson through college.” 

“That’s great! And you said there is still one more bottle left?”

She nodded her head. “Yes. But you better hurry. One of the chefs is on his way here for a shot as well.”

Drake hurriedly kissed her on the cheek and opened the door. Thank you, Miss Milly!” He stepped inside, then stopped and whipped his head back out the door. “Milly, wait. Have you seen Prince Nikolas today?”

“Yes, he left with the Queen after breakfast this morning. I believe they mentioned going to Valtoria.”

Drake rubbed his hands together anxiously and thanked her. He’d known the cook for years, she’s the sweetest person he knew. There was no way she would cover for Nikolas, and Drake couldn’t imagine the boy would have any dirt to hold over her head.

When the door shut, Nikolas grinned mischievously from a dark alcove where he was parked in his black 12V Mercedes Benz S63. “This is the day I’ve been waiting for.”

He set his laptop and both parents' phones in the passenger seat and slowly pulled out. He paid $100 to Milly and asked her to put the bottle back in his father’s liquor cabinet and rolled a few paces to room 105.

======

After filling out medical forms, the palace doctor ushered Drake behind a curtain where a long rectangular table and folding chair sat. Taking the seat, Drake watched the doctor slip on a pair of gloves and pull a small tube of lube out of his lab coat pocket. Drake furrowed his brows in confusion. “Heh. What’s the lube for?” he chuckled lightly. “I’m just here for a shot, man. Nothing else is going in me.”

“Just relax, Mr. Walker. It’s all part of the process.” A squirt of clear liquid was squeezed onto the doctor's two gloved fingers as he held them up. “On your medical forms you denied having a physical exam in the past year. I just need to do a quick exam and check for rectal polyps.”

Drake started laughing in amusement, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You’ve got to be shittin' me. So let me get this straight. I can’t get a shot until you stick your fingers in my ass to check for ‘polyps?’ Yeah, that’s happening. What a bunch of horse malarky.”

The doctor let out an annoyed huff. “I see you didn’t read over the information forms. They never do,’ he mumbled. “Look, if you want me to wait here all day while you figure out what to do, I can’t -- I have a deadline to finish here. Now if you’ll move along, I have another patient waiting; you’re free to go.”

And Drake knew he was. But that expensive bottle of Glenfiddich was calling his name. He glanced over to that one last beautiful bottle sitting atop a desk on the far side of the room, calling his name. Selling it for even half of what it was worth would afford him enough to move the hell out of the palace and get the freedom from Nik he desired. Rubbing a hand over the scruff on his chin, Drake's timid gaze turned from the bottle to the doctor. He could handle a finger or two in ass for a few seconds if t made him $90,000 richer. 

“Okay. What do I need to do?”

Nikolas quietly typed on the keyboard of his laptop from the opposite side of the curtain. The images from the hidden cameras plastered on the wall where Drake was seated popped into view on his screen. Feeding a link to, and overriding the broadcast feed at the CBC, Nik crouched down low and waited with little beady eyes for the exam to begin. “Perfect ...Okay, Doc, let’s see if you can get a hole in one.”

----------

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[terreisa]

Love Down the Line

The last thing Indie musician Emma Swan needs is a gigantic wrench thrown in the workings of her biggest tour to date weeks before its launch.  When her backing guitarist that caused the problem says she has the perfect solution Emma is skeptical but left with little choice but to accept.  Unfortunately she isn't really prepared for said solution to be former Rock Star and leading man of Emma's teenage fantasies, Killian Jones.  With no other options and a month of performing across the country ahead of her Emma just hopes she doesn't come to regret letting Killian onto her stage and into her life.

AO3

~*CS*~

Storybrooke, Maine- April 8th

The buzzing phone on the table in front of Emma Swan was a distraction she didn’t need.  There were a million and one things that needed to be done and only one month to do them before her tour started.  She swiped to answer it without looking, too caught up in what she was doing to bother.

“Yeah?” She asked impatiently, absently brushing the tendrils of her long blonde hair out of her face.

“I have good news and I have shit news.”

Emma sighed, albeit quietly.  It was Ruby, one of her closest friends and the rhythm guitarist for her backing band who also had a flair for the dramatic.  She only hoped that whatever it was Ruby was calling about wouldn’t turn into a two hour conversation over something they could easily discuss when she didn’t have time sensitive decisions to make.  Preferably in a month when they were finally on the tour bus and had nothing but time to kill between cities.

“If it’s about going on that second date with Dorothy that I already talked you into once can it wait?  I’m trying to finalize this set list so I can send it to Regina so she can send it to the lighting guys and the sound guys and we can stop fucking around at rehearsals and get things going almost smoothly.”

“Um, yeah… I mean, it’s not entirely about my date with Dorothy,” Ruby said with what sounded like trepidation.

Suspicion and dread immediately filled Emma’s veins.  Ruby was anything but hesitant when it came to sharing information.  She’d once announced at a club they were playing that she was on her period and would only accept phone numbers that were written on the outside wrapper of a chocolate bar.  By the time they made it back to their motel she had a mound of candy that would have made Augustus Gloop jealous.

“What’s the good news?”

“Nah, you’ll want the shitty news first,” Ruby hummed with a grin in her voice, her confidence restored.

She groaned, “When have I ever wanted the shitty news first?”

“Never, but this time the good news won’t make sense without it-” Ruby took in a deep breath, loud enough for Emma to hear over the connection and it set her back on edge. “Okay, so I was on that second date with Dorothy and it was going great.  Like, really great.  She’s amazing and funny and surprising.  We went to a paintball place.  Paintball, me!”

“Ruby-”

“And it was actually fun.  You know I’m more of a heels and cocktails kinda gal but I was getting into it-”

“Ruby-”

“Something about the adrenaline maybe or possibly the weird power trip of having a fake weapon to stalk your prey.  Though that makes me sound like I’m about to go play the most dangerous game or something-”

“RUBY!  The shitty news!”

“Oh, right,” Ruby had the decency to sound abashed but it did nothing to alleviate the pounding that had started in Emma’s head. “So paintball,  fun and exciting and I may have broken my arm.”

Emma suddenly felt faint, “What?”

“In two places,” Ruby continued, sounding almost proud of herself. “Plus there’s some stitches and a bunch of Bandaids involved but you probably don’t care about those.”

“How long?” She winced at her harsh question, knowing she sounded uncaring.  She backtracked, “No, fuck, wait, are you okay?  That should have been my first question.”

Ruby laughed, “Don’t worry, after all these years I know where your priorities lie.  I’m fine, they’ve got me on the good stuff here.”

“Wait, are you still at the hospital?” Emma stood up, ready to jump into whatever action was needed.

“Yup, they’ve still got to set the bones and wrap it up like the world’s worst present but like I said: the good stuff.”

“Alright, I’m on my way,” Emma dashed to her room and frantically tried to find a matching pair of shoes in the piles of crap strewn across the floor. “Do you need anything?  A change of clothes?  Are they keeping you there overnight?  Want me to stop by Granny’s?  Should I call Granny?”

“Whoa, Emma, slow down,” Ruby said, laughing again. “Dorothy called Granny when we were on our way to the hospital.  She’s already here and glaring at anyone in a white coat that walks by my little curtained area.  It should only be an hour or so then it’s home to rest.  You can come over with pizza and I’ll bore you to death then with all the little details of my date.”

“Okay,” she breathed, dropping down onto her bed with a tennis shoe in one hand.  “Pizza.  I can do that.”

“Good.  It’s six weeks by the way,” Ruby said offhandedly.

“Six weeks,” she repeated, confused by the non-sequitur.

“Recovery time.  At least six weeks.”

The shoe dropped out of her hand, “Six weeks.”

“And then a few weeks of physical therapy,” Ruby continued. “So, more like two months give or take.”

“Ruby,” she said weakly. “The tour starts in a month.  There’s no time to audition a replacement and have them learn the songs and what if they don’t get along with us or, fuck, what if they have a massive ego or-”

“Emma, stop.” Ruby said calmly. “This is where the good news comes in.”

“Good news?  How can there be good news?”

“I told you there would be,” Ruby tsked, “Here it is.  I already have a replacement ready!  He knows most of the songs you’ve been picking, has a shit ton of experience on the road and playing the type of venues we’ve got booked, and best of all he’s available to start as soon as you tell me yes.”

Ruby’s words had started to slow but her excitement was still palpable.  Emma on the other hand felt nothing but dread settling in her stomach.  Ever since she’d started doing the music thing seriously Ruby had been a part of the band playing behind her.  The seedy bars with tiny stages, the slightly better clubs with slightly worse sound systems, the places that could actually be called venues that held more than a hundred people and then bigger and bigger until she was finally selling out places that easily sat four or five thousand people.  She’d been there for everything, had seen everything, knew everything and her not being able to be there for any part of it was starting to cause Emma’s vision to go slightly grey at the edges.

“I need to call Regina,” she gasped, trying to draw in a deep breath, “We can cancel the first few weeks or reschedule them.”

“Emma-”

“I’ll say I have bronchitis or those polyp things on my vocal chords.  Or I can do the shows acoustic-”

“Emma, if you’d just-

“But then I’ll have to figure out how to pay Will and Tink-”

“Or you could just give this guy a chance, maybe?” Ruby said sharply and a bit pointedly. “I’m not letting you sabotage the biggest fucking thing to happen to you because I can’t play for a few weeks.  The fans don’t care who’s in the backing band, they’re paying to see you.”

“Then they won’t mind an acoustic show, will they?” Emma snapped back.

“No, but it’s also not what you’ve been teasing on Instagram for the past few months.  Not to mention all the techies and roadies that have already been hired that will be fired because they’ll be deemed unnecessary.  Plus isn’t it in your contract with the label that any major changes to the tour had to be approved by them?  I can tell you right now they won’t approve of anything this close to the start date.”

Emma hated that Ruby was right but couldn’t help one last argument, “And replacing you with some rando off the street isn’t a major change?”

“First off: the label cares even less about who’s in the backing band then the fans do.  As long as we make you sound good and don’t upstage you they’re happy,” Ruby said flippantly. “Second: Jones isn’t some rando, he’s actually a session guitarist and has played on a few songs on your last two albums.  Third: This is your best option and you know it.”

“I don’t know it,” she grumbled, “He could still be a problem, you know, personality wise or whatever.”

“Okay, sure,” Ruby conceded, “but you won’t know unless you give him a chance.  So will you?  Give him a chance?”

“Ugh, fine, but if he sucks I’m definitely writing a song called ‘I fucking told you so’.”

“And if he doesn’t I get to write it and you’ll have to play the terrible result at the final show,” Ruby said gleefully.

“I hate you,” Emma sighed, falling back so she was laying across the width of her bed.

“No you don’t,” Ruby paused and Emma could hear murmuring in the background. “Hey, the doctor’s back and they’re ready to get my bones a crackin’.  You can complain about it more tonight.  Meat lovers supreme, extra large, and bring those cinnamon sticky things too!”

Ruby hung up before Emma could utter a sound.  She chuckled to herself before the reality of the situation sunk back in.  For Ruby’s sake she’d give the Jones guy a chance but she had little faith that it would work out as easily as Ruby had made it sound.  Nothing had ever worked out easily for her before, no use in getting her hopes up again.

[mingethemerciless-blog]

The trials and tribulations of minge.

I’m a very scruffy person, when I was 13 I went through the usual teenage trial of having my teeth straightened, they had to take 4 molars out because they were pushing the others into such bizarre states of wonk that the orthodontist barely knew where to start.

I wore those badges of adolescent awkwardness for near enough two years. My friends all came out with american style smiles. Mine, although slightly straighter, remained resolutely, stereotypically british and scruffy.

Twenty years later I was walking at a smart pace down the track to the bus stop. I had washed and styled my hair, picked out an outfit which I hope said “responsible” and “in full control of her mental faculties” By necessity it included a slightly impractical maxi skirt, but I had learned over the years, that this was the best uniform for my current endeavour.

On the bus my reflection in the window told me that my luxuriant shiney bob had inexplicably flattened in places where I needed volume and frizzed up at the points where I had taken hours to smooth it out, the former gelam now looked distinctly greasy.

I fiddled nervously with my hair and the collar of my shirt until I arrived at the hospital.

This hospital is where I was born. Sitting at the top of a hill, it has one of the best views over the city that I have ever seen. I stared out of the window and almost calmed myself down, this might be the last chance I got to convince these people to help me...

My name was called, I shook the doctors hand.

“I hear you’ve been having some trouble with your periods” he understated.

Since the age of 23 I have been winning awards, if only in my own mind, for “worlds longest period” and “most blood lost without fatality.”

I launched into my unflinching and well practised description of the ping pong ball sized blood clots. The time one fell out of me in the shower and was so huge and heavy I was convinced I’d just given birth to an alien, I picked it up to check if it had a face, bits of it fell off and clogged the drain. I calmly recounted the years and years of seeping dread, the fact that I hadn’t gone swimming, worn white or finished a meal without a sickly slug of feroglobin in years.

I wasn’t scared any more, Cancer had suggested itself in my mind on and off for several years, but, as a nurse once blandly put it: “If it was cancer you’d be dead by now.”

My mind was throwing out tendrils of thought about my other dread. Pregnancy. When I was 18 I calmly accepted what I was told when I said I didn’t want children: 

“You’ll change your mind” they would say in a funny sing-song way.

 I’d probably want them when I was a proper adult, say, 25 years old.

25 came around, I was in no way a proper adult nor did I yet want children. No problem, there was plenty of time for me to want them, I’d just think about it a whole lot and then I’d want them.

30 came around, and I could no longer deny, the thought of pregnancy repulsed me. To be a host body to a parasitic bundle of flesh, to have my blood drawn away from me and into this other being. The idea of my cunt tearing open, a living thing coming out of me. A living thing with my weak jawline? With my scruffy hair? What if I didn’t love it? What if it turned out to be as intolerable a little shit as most of the children I’d ever met were? What if it grew up and went on being an intolerable little shit...come to think of it like most of the adults I’d ever met were?  What if, instead of doing something which changed the world for the better, it just became another consumer. Oh god what if it voted for Rees-Mogg? What if that apocalypse we’ve been promised actually happened and I had to raise an intolerable little shit in a cave whilst fighting off mutant tories and puerperal fever?

A more realistic and terrifying thought was never far from my conscious mind: What if I was raped? What if an abortion was too traumatic or, in the sadly likely event of an NHS sell off, too expensive? What if the current trends continue even further and an abortion was simply unavailable? Would I find someone clean and steady handed enough to do it on the kitchen table? Could I find the right hedgerow ingredients? Would I survive that?

“Do you want children?”

I was very glad that this came up.

“Definitely not, in fact I’d like to ask for a tubal ligation.”

“That won’t help with the bleeding”

“I know, it’s a separate issue, but I think it’s relevant…”

On the young man's face I saw faint hint of the bemused horror I’d seen on my GPs face when I had first asked, almost the beginning of a nervous laugh, although none had gone so far as to laugh at me yet…

My GP had looked at me the way teachers would look at me when I told them I’d lost my library card or forgotten my essay. Faux shock, the kindly-meant disappointment of a grandparent seeing you make a youthful blunder. His voice had come out with just the merest subtle hint of a condescending laugh in it when he told me he could refer me to a specialist but it was unlikely they’d give “someone like you” such a “drastic” operation.

Someone like me? Scruffy? Irresponsible? Disorganised? 

And how was maintaining my personal status quo drastic? Surely having to fire a fully dependant, sapient life out of my pelvis was far more drastic than just...carrying on as I was?

In any event, none of the appointments that GP had made had referenced my desire to get the snip, almost as if he didn’t even write it on the request he sent...

The current gynaecologist shook off the uncanny look he had given me for asking the forbidden question and asked if he could “scan me” Oh great, another date with the dildo-cam…

I’ve had this scan done so many times, my cervix is directly connected to the pain centers of the brain, one mere prod and all hell breaks loose in my nerves, it’s no good telling doctors this, they adhere rigidly to the “some women experience discomfort” school of thought.

The young nurse was wonderful, allowing me to squeeze her hand when the probe swept over my diva of a cervix and white stars of agony danced on the ceiling above me.

“You have a very large ectropion on your cervix, it’s probably causing a lot of the bleeding”

“Yes, I’ve been told that many times…”

“Hmm, we could get rid of this ectropion with silver nitrate, it might help stop the bleeding?”

Holy shit, you mean there was a way to get rid of that thing all along?!

I consented as calmly as I could.

The next thing I knew he was jabbing my insides with chemical soaked lollipop sticks, but I was more than willing for this to happen after 10 years of inaction and casual shrugs at my wayward cervix.

I was told to brace myself for “gritty discharge” as bits of burnt cervix dropped out of me along with all the other nonsense going on down there.

Later, pants back on, veins blossoming with green bruising from the “hormone level” blood tests, my innards were laid out in bland yet descriptive medical descriptions.

My womb had a “septum” which immediately made me think that it had a face, a scornful, angry face I would dearly love to punch for the years of ruined underwear, bedsheets and dates.

My right ovary was polycystic,

“This can lead to diabetes and heart disease later in life so you’ll have to be wary of gaining weight…”

My body type is made up of circles, I have rounded hips, boobs, thighs and face, when I was younger I worried briefly that I was chubby, but I was active and I ate well, I could still see my ribs and I could power walk up the hill to my house without so much as a sweat. I gave the doctor a blank look, he still hadn’t discussed my tubal options yet...

The doctor now took on a slightly lower, more cautious tone, evidently more scared of upsetting me with this next information than he had been by talking about my weight.

“You may find it slightly harder to get pregnant...but it’s by no means impossible”

I did a double take. 

“...That’s really not a problem for me...what with the tubal ligation request and all…” I hinted cheerfully.

He made a neutral sound and moved on with a list of my uterine shortcomings.

My left ovary was “very mobile” (my mind gave it a beard and a bindle stick) and showed some evidence of endometriosis.

“I’ve never had any symptoms of that…”

“Again this can lead to some minor complications in conception and pregnancy…”

Was I speaking klingon? Was I mispronouncing “tubal ligation”? Was IVF so much cheaper than the lady snip that they’d rather I reproduced despite my clear desire not to do so and regret an actual living human?

“You have some signs that there may be polyps in your uterus, that’s not harmful but they may be contributing to the bleeding, in which case, we can remove them.”

I was booked in for a hysteroscopy, which sounded painful in spite of the “some women experience discomfort” platitude, and a review in 3 months time.

“Do you have any questions?”

I took a deep breath, I knew this was a separate issue but I had to bring this up whenever I could because there was no obvious way to request it otherwise.

“How do I go about getting the tubal ligation?”

The look of horror came back, much stronger this time, the poor sod had run out of things to distract me with, his face turned to a look of utter defeat.

“I wouldn’t even consider doing that until you had exhausted all other contraceptive options and had fertility counselling, have you considered the mirena coil? It’s progesterone only and most women find it very good…”

My mind flashed back to the last “progesterone only” treatment I’d had: Migraines had hidden the worst of the symptoms for the best part of 6 months, by the time they were under control again the real problem became tragically apparent. My sex drive was so low that I could barely tolerate a hug, in desperation I had the little plastic rod dug out of my arm with a scalpel, but my libido never fully recovered, don’t try telling me the effects aren’t permanent…

A further flashback to the copper coil. The way it dug itself into the side of my womb, the way it hurt, exactly how much and how long it hurt for, How there had been no one in my local GP surgery willing to remove it for me (grab the string and pull, I refuse to believe that this requires a specialist qualification on top of medical training.) The serious thought I gave to yanking it out myself, only stopping when the prospect of a torn cervix put me off. 

A rich history of contraceptive pills danced through my brain, mood swings, swollen boobs and most memorably a migraine so bad that I called NHS Direct and was told to monitor myself for signs of a potentially fatal brain haemorrhage...

The time they’d tried to stop the bleeding with anti-inflammatories and discovered my allergy to this group of medications when I broke out in a measles style rash.

Those memories don’t blur with time, at least they haven’t yet.

“Statistics show that you would regret being sterilized, you don’t have a family”

For a brief second my imagination took me to an episode of The Twilight Zone. I don’t have a family? Shit! What happened to them? My siblings? My partner? My parents? My friends?

The anger when I realised what he really meant seeped through my mind like a blood clot through a pad.

“You don’t share DNA with anyone who came out of you therefore you have no family”

“You haven’t had to push your family with your pelvic floor therefore they don’t count”

“If you eventually decide to adopt that won’t count either”

“Everyone you currently live with, love and rely on will reject and abandon you because you didn’t give birth to them.”

Blood clots, along with anger of that magnitude tend to flood the sanitary pad or mind.

Luckily, I have had years of practise at crossing my legs and trying to discreetly aim my crotch at the driest part of the pad. This, in effect, was how I ordered my mind at that moment.

“Don’t yell at NHS people, they have enough problems. The poor man was just working off a script, of course they have to be careful, one litigious malcontent could set these heroes back years…”

I left, with no clearer an idea of how to get my tubes tied and no idea why this was the first time, cysts, polyps and septums had been discovered after so many tests over so many years.

Back home I attempted to find out how much private hospitals charged for tubal ligation. “Anywhere between $700 and $10,000 depending on your insurance provider”  ecosia informed me in very american and somewhat unhelpful terms.

An inquiry to Spire healthcare yielded an unapologetic result of £3000, that’s a lot of minimum wage hours and late rent payments, besides £200 of that was for a consultation in which they might refuse me anyway. 

I wondered if those places in Turkey where they do cheap facelifts might consider my case...Would having scalpels jabbed into me in a country where I couldn’t speak the language followed by a cramped and cheap flight be more or less unbearable than a kitchen table abortion? Either way the word “botched” was never far from my mind.

When the day came for my hysteroscopy I steeled myself for another try. The gynaecologist was a lovely, calm young woman with curly hair. She spent a long time reassuring me that I was in control and could stop the procedure at any time. She told me that she would take a biopsy from my womb lining in addition to shoving a camera up where no camera had gone before. She showed me the camera. I wish she hadn’t.

“See, it’s very small.”

It was slightly smaller than a pencil. Small compared to a baby maybe. But I knew exactly how big that thing was going to feel in my stupid nervy cervix. Turns out I was wrong.

It was far bigger and far sharper and far more white hot than I thought possible. 

The nurses squeezed my hand and told me it would be over soon.

I never stopped her, I wanted this done, I wanted to know what the hell was wrong with me. I wanted to show what a good patient I was, how in control of my mind and body I was, how I would take the responsibility of dealing with sterilization without regret...

I learned just how exponential pain can be.

When someone said “This will take another five seconds” I discovered how long five seconds can feel.

I found out, to my displeasure, that passing out does not necessarily stop you feeling pain, it simply stops you moving. I learned just how wonderful the overworked and underpaid folks of the NHS really are when they brought me water and later tea and let me sit in a comfy chair and shake without telling me that they needed me to get a grip and move on because they had a full waiting room…

The results were discussed with me. There were no polyps, there was no septum, what's more, my womb was perfectly shaped to receive a mirena coil…

Sterilization wouldn’t stop the bleeding, it was a separate issue. The mirena would stop the bleeding and stop any pregnancy. Sure I’d have to have it ripped out of the most sensitive, nerve rich part of me and then stuffed back in broadside first every three years, assuming I hadn’t emigrated and the NHS was still there that is. And the progesterone might...exacerbate certain things, but that would probably settle down...

 I sighed, drained my tea and smoothed down my faithful maxi skirt. 

Alright uterus, you don’t like me and I don’t like you, but it looks like we’re in this together. Here’s another burning hoop for us to jump through, lets give these folks the show they’ve been waiting for...

[grailbot143]

Welcome Back Everyone!

Thank @daiskken for this week's artwork! I really love the style of this picture.

As I was not the biggest fan of last week’s episode and had every intention of wiping it entirely from my memory, this week, we are going to do something a little different. Instead of a recap of last week, we are going to focus on:

Briefcap Beach Party

Consolidated lingering Questions The Steven Universe World Characters Places Things Likes and Dislikes So Far Briefcap from Steven Universe: Beach Party (S1:Ep18)

Beach Party opens with the Gems fighting a Blowfish. Steven throws his boogie board to try to distract it for Garnet. Garnet gets blown into town where she destroys the front of the pizzeria. Amethyst turns into a baseball bat and hits the blowfish out to the ocean. The Gems argue with each other. Mr. Pizza gets upset about the pizzeria. The Gems go home. Kofi tells Steven the Gems are banned. He goes home to tell them because he's so sad.

Steven sets up a really boring beach party to bring the Pizzas and Gems together. The Gems dress appropriately at Steven's behest. He pairs up the Gems with Pizzas for a volleyball game that dwindles into a cheating match. . . . I told some jokes.

The blowfish returns and Nanafua directs everybody through a really ridiculous fight and the blowfish is defeated. Kofi wraps up the episode faster than Dumbledore wrapped up the Sorcerer's Stone and about as haphazardly.

AND . . . Episode Over (thank goodness)

Episode Random Noticings

Fish Stew Pizza never got fixed.

Fish Stew Pizza still sounds disgusting.

Nanafua is commanding and the Gems are oddly compliant.

Consolidated lingering Questions

The Gems:

Where do they come from? How is power derived from them? Are all the gems the same, but act differently according to… something? How is magic embued into the gems? Who is chosen to wear them and why? Why is a pearl considered a gem? What about the gemmed enemies? How do they get gems? Or are they created out of gems? Assumption: each has unique powers, i.e., Amethyst can’t project a plan from her gem_ If the above assumption is correct, what exactly is Garnet’s superpower? What are Steven's powers? s Amethyst's strange relationship with gravity a po Who all can fu?se?w old are each of them? It’s suggested that they're centuries old. Amethyst acts a bit like a teenager. Is she that much younger than Pearl? Where does Garnet fall? Why is Steven the only boy? How many boy gems are there everywhere? Why is Garnet the boss? Is it because she's older and wiser?

The World:

The Lunar Sea Spire was known as the Oasis for Gems on Earth, so I know it’s Earth, but… Is it in the same Earth that we are in, but hidden from us, or some sort of alternate universe Are the gems ONLY on Earth? This would make the nomenclature Oasis for Gems on Earth redundant, so probably notar, everything seems to be happening in this town… are there other Gems in other towns? Like every town has a team of Crystal Gems protecting it? Or is this town some center for universal negativity, so the Gems are focused here? Why do people in anime scream out the names of their attacks? Where did Lion take Steven and Connie for training? Is that place, or a similar one, available to all gems? Do you need a familiar to take you there?

The House on the Beach:

This is more a curiosity, but I wouldn’t mind seeing the fight that took off that statues hands What is up with the living temple inside the house? Beating hearts, waterfalls, a pool for getting rid of evil spirits. Need much more history and understanding here. BTW, it's been more than 10 episodes and none of these have been answered. Why not? The Steven Universe World This is just a quick list of things that make this place unique… no explanations.

Townies:

What's up with Onion and his dad? Are they from some other place? Why would you make a place called Fish Stew Pizza? What is the name of the fry place?

Rose Quartz:

Why does Rose have to die to give Steven his superpowers? Is Rose even dead?? I don’t remember that explicitly being stated What would make her choose that? a prophesy? desire to give Greg a kid? gonna die anyway? Did she give up her gem to HAVE a kid or to EMBUE a kid with the gem? Did she get to KNOW Steven?

Lion:

What all does Lion know? How did he get his powers?

Characters

The Crystal Gems

Pearl Garnet Amethyst (dead?) Rose Quartz Steven

The Townsfolk

Sadie Lars FryMan PeeDee Fryman Rinaldo Fryman Greg Mailman Barb (not seen) Nanafua Pizza Kofi Pizza Jenny Pizza Kiki Pizza Sour Cream Buck Dewey Onion Onion's Dad Guy that runs the Arcade Suitcase Sam? Mayor Dewey

Monsters/Creatures

Centipeedles and their mother Red Eye (offscreen) A giant bird with a giant polka-dot egg The Spirit from the painting that possessed Together Breakfast The Crystal Shrimp (deceased) Frybo Steven with Cats The Eel that liked shiny stuff Lion Starfish Drills and their MOM? Giant Bird from Giant Woman The Geode Beetles from Heaven and Earth The carnivorous moss that turns into beautiful flowers Holo-Pearl Training Robot from the cavern Blow/Pufferfish Blood Polyp (offscreen)

Places

Around Town

Big Donut the fry shop the arcade the boardwalk Fish Stew Pizza Greg’s van the car wash the storage facility the Crystal Gem’s house on the beach Suitcase Sam's T-Shirt store Amusement Park Dock Wrestling Arena Movie Theatre (in town?) Pearl's favorite tree (deceased) Under the Ocean

Mystical

The Temple with a beating heart the storage unit? Greg said it was magical (destroyed) The Lunar Sea Spire the teleporter thing in Steven’s living room The Training Cavern Upside Pyramid in the Strawberry Fields Sand Castles that the Dessert Glass built The cave in Arcade Mania The Sky Spire The Lava place where Garnet retrieved the Geode Beetle of Earth Deadman's Mouth The cloud/Pillar place in Steven The Sword Fighter

Things

Gems

Rose Quartz 2 Garnets Amethyst (not a gem) Pearl Centipeedles’ Mothers gem (pants animating) Gem Shards (maybe? pretty sure) The Lunar Goddess Statue Eel's Gem Gem from Upside Down Pyramid Dessert Glass Starfish Mother Gem The ROC in Giant Woman Blowfish Gem

Mystical Items

Summoned Weapons Laser Light Cannon Red Eye? Lunar Goddess Statue Cursed Painting Replicator Wand (destroyed) Button in the Cavern (and all that stuff)

Food (as it’s seemingly important to our little hero)

(discontinued) Cookie Cats Fry Bits (Cat Fingers enjoy this too) Together Breakfast (offscreen) Pizza (unmentioned) Cupcakes in jars (not food) Cheeseburger backpack Donuts Fish Stew Pizza Giant Strawberries Margarine to slick hair back Sodas that he threw all over the place in Tiger Millionaire Coconuts Sandwich Cereal (Arcade Mania) Steven (for the bird in Giant Woman) Cake Aqua Mexico Burrito Cream Pies (more a prop than food) Bag of Chips Burger for Onion's Dad Seagull's banana peel and pizza Cheeseburger Backpack full of snacks for the movie Popcorn Hot Dogs Burgers (with a ridiculous amount of buns, lettuce, and silverware)

Likes and Dislikes Far

Dislikes

Not a fan of the important role junk food plays in the show I don’t relate to Steven much. He mostly annoys me. Why is there not a main antagonist? Are we going to be playing monster of the week forever? Surely we’ll get one antagonist we can loath… (this is still an issue 18 episodes in. . . ) Season 1: Episode 5 Frybo Season 1: Episode 18 Beach Party

Likes

I like that all the answers to everything are not conveniently packaged in an episode I like Garnet… and sometimes Amethyst… and I often relate to Pearl I like Greg and his super awesome van I like that it seemed like we landed in the middle of a life, rather than the beginning of a story. . . this continues to be true through every episode. I like the most of the townspeople and their relationships with Steven I appreciate that though there are some references a kid wouldn’t understand completely, there is so far no blatantly adult humor or sexuality even in undertones - still true after 18 episodes. . . I like the whole living temple thing - but it is frustrating that we have only explored it once and so many questions remain. I like Connie alot. She is funny and smart and a perfect non-super for the story. I like the random swords sticking up in multiple places. I like arcade games. . . I like that there are so many details in the background like everywhere . . . and it's obvious the creators are nerds I like Sour Cream

I just want to remind everyone, I write these recaps after having only seen the episode once, a week ago, and often interrupted by my whole blogging thing. I mainly do it for myself to refresh my memory for the next episode, but since I post it, I thought I should ask your forgiveness if it isn’t exactly perfect (or even close). Don't forget if you have a submission for artwork for today's episode, submit before Friday using the link above, and I'll pick one to use as the cover art.

[quaememinisse]

After Baby

Pairing: Bucky x OFC

Genre: Fluff, hurt/comfort, love

Summary: Bucky and his wife struggle to get intimate again after having their first child. Based off another series I wrote, available on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2799851/chapters/6284765

           “No—Bucky, stop,” Cherise groans, pulling at his hands where they’re glued to her hips. He wasn’t thrusting too hard, but she couldn’t get comfortable, again. He makes this saddened sighing sort of moan, pulling out, and lying beside Cherise where she had fallen on her stomach.

           “That position hurts, too?” he asks her gently, looking at her with worry. Her face is shrouded by her hair and when he hears her sniffle, he sits up abruptly, pulling her hair back.

           “Cherry?”

She blinks at him through tears before wiping them away hastily. His erection dies immediately. He frowns, feeling so guilty.

           “I’m so sorry, Cherry. I didn’t mean to—”

           “I know. I know,” she breathes with frustration.

           “It’s been almost ten weeks since you had the baby. It shouldn’t still hurt you when we have sex,” Bucky explains gently, rubbing Cherise’s back. She smiles at him, but he can tell that she’s trying to hide how much pain she’s in.

           “I just don’t understand it and I’m fucking frustrated, James,” Cherise admits, “Christina was a C-section. I didn’t even have to actually give birth. Why?” she asks, sullenly, turning away from him. Mentally, Bucky slaps himself for coming out of the shower and trying to get intimate with his wife, wishing he had just watched the news with her and gone to sleep instead.

           “Baby, maybe it’s time to go to the doctor—”

           “I don’t want to do that.”

           “But Cherry,” Bucky sighs, “You just had a baby. There’s no harm in going in to check and see that everything is alright. This pregnancy was really hard on your body…”

           “M-maybe I just need more time to heal,” she explains, grabbing a tissue off the nightstand and wiping her nose. Bucky can’t stand to see tears in her eyes because of something he was doing.

“This is starting to really worry me. What if something is wrong inside of you, and that’s why it hurts? I don’t like that it hurts you every time we try,” he admits sadly.

           “I’m just frustrated,” she explains, lying on her side, facing away from him. Doggy style never hurt Cherise, and they even continued to have sex that way up until the month before she had to have an emergency C-section. Tonight is one of a handful of failed attempts they made at trying to revive their sex life over the past two weeks, each time it ending with Cherise telling him it hurt, and Bucky felt bad. He knew it wasn’t an issue of his size; Cherise could handle his girth. It had never caused her any discomfort before, unless she was too eager to get to penetrative sex and didn’t allow herself enough time to tent for him. But he knew it wasn’t a lack of foreplay the last few times they tried.

           “Cherry, please. I know that you’re crying. Let me take you to the doctor,” Bucky begs, inching closer to her and rubbing her thigh patiently.

           “I’m so sorry. I feel like an asshole,” he adds.

           “You’re not an asshole. It’s not your fault, Bucky.”

           “Well, it is. I got you pregnant in the first place.”

He sighs.

           “Will you please just go and let the doctor take a look? It’s not just because I miss you…” he squeezes her thigh and she finally turns around to face him, “I don’t want you to be in pain. That scares me.” Cherise cups Bucky’s handsome chiseled jaw, finding his eyes to be holding back tears.

           “Okay,” she says.

           “I’m sorry,” he whispers, kissing her forehead. It didn’t matter that she didn’t blame him, he had felt badly about her suffering through a difficult pregnancy and as a result, not being able to enjoy intimacy. Bucky had begun to fear that it would be this way for the rest of her life. He couldn’t forgive himself if he broke her. It was never his intention. Though they had wanted their daughter with every fiber of their being, having her took a bigger toll on Cherise’s health than either of them ever foresaw might happen. Cherise tries to remember the last time she comfortably had sex with Bucky and she starts to understand his concern as well.

           “I’m sorry,” he says again, rubbing her side.

She smiles at him, but the worry doesn’t leave his face.

             Cherise hated pelvic exams. Her first one had been somewhat traumatic. She recalls being in her early 20s and having a case of PID, which she was sure was brought on through using one of the washing machines in her dorm when she was in college, or the wrong kind of detergent. She had a sensitive body to begin with. The doctor had been handsome, which made it all the more embarrassing to deal with when she cried out loud and nearly jumped off the table because the speculum was too big for her and there wasn’t a smaller one available at the time.

In the present, Bucky standing stressed out by her head doesn’t make it any more comfortable. He finally stops wringing his hands and places them on both of Cherise’s shoulders, so that she has an upside-down view of his blue eyes, their daughter cooing pleasantly in the corner in her carrying seat. On the way, Cherise had explained to Bucky why she didn’t want to come in for this, and even though he felt for her not enjoying pelvic exams, he wasn’t going to let her continue on like this.

“When did you first attempt intercourse since after the baby?” The doctor asks from down between Cherise’s legs, which are open, her feet in stirrups. The doctor draws the overhead light closer to get a better look. Cherise swallows hard.

“Eight weeks,” Bucky answers without hesitation, looking at the doctor for a second. Cherise jumps a moment.

“Hey, just look at me, honey,” Bucky says sweetly, planting a kiss on her forehead. He had thoroughly explained to the doctor beforehand that Cherise had a difficult time with pelvic exams and was nervous about it.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to give you something for anxiety and we can wait until it kicks in, Mrs. Barnes?” The doctor asks kindly, standing up so that she can make eye contact with Cherise.

“N-no. I’m breastfeeding. I don’t want anything to go into my milk,” Cherise explains, lifting her head.

“If you think you need it, I can give you something that is safe for while you’re breastfeeding,” the doctor bargains. Cherise shakes her head. She just didn’t trust risking anything affecting hers and Bucky’s daughter. Bucky kisses her head again.

“Okay. If you’re sure. I just need you to hold still for about 30 seconds or less. I’ll try to make this as quick and painless as possible.”

“Just take deep breaths, baby,” Bucky whispers, rubbing her shoulders and trying to distract her.

“You’ve got a nice supportive hubby up there,” the doctor comments, only wanting to help get Cherise to relax more. He plays with her hair, something that always feels good, and Cherise closes her eyes, taking a big inhale.

“Vaginal sex usually rough or gentle?” the doctor asks. Cherise can’t see her husband blushing when she suddenly feels the speculum insert inside her and open. She gasps, grabbing the sides of the table.

“You’re okay,” Bucky reassures her. To her relief, this isn’t as painful as she feared it would be.

“Uhmm…we-we mix it up. It’s never too rough for me,” Cherise explains, taking another deep breath.

“She likes it pretty rough, but I don’t usually start that way,” Bucky admits, “And I certainly haven’t been rough since she had the baby.”

“Sounds good,” the doctor says, “I’m just going to do a quick swab—almost done,” she promises.

“Any bleeding with penetrative sex when you’ve tried?”

“She bled a little bit the last time we tried,” Bucky explains, and Cherise can hear the worry in his voice. She sighs with relief once the speculum is out of her and she sits up, Bucky rubbing her back comfortingly.

“So, your C-section scar looks pretty good,” the doctor begins, “but I did notice a polyp on the cervix. It’s not that big, but those can happen sometimes and can cause bleeding. This may be what you’re finding painful with intercourse. We can remove it and once you’ve healed up, you should be in the clear.”

“Is it dangerous?” Cherise asks, “Cancerous?”

“I’ve seen and removed many polyps, and this one doesn’t strike me as cancerous or anything to be worried about,” the doctor explains, and Cherise can feel the tension leaving Bucky’s hands.

“Any idea what caused it?” Bucky asks, and it’s almost as if he’s convinced it’s there because of him.

“The cause of these is typically unknown, but I think what happened is that it may have developed sometime between your pregnancy and delivery. We tend to see these more frequently in women who have had babies, usually women a little older than your wife, but it’s still possible.”

“So, you remove it, then she’ll heal and be okay?”

“Yes. That is the prognosis I can confidently give you,” the doctor beams, nodding, “But I did do a swab, on which I’ll run a few tests to rule out any infections.”

“Thank god,” Bucky sighs. Cherise breathes a sigh of relief.

“In the meantime, we can schedule an appointment for the procedure before you leave,” the doctor adds, interrupted by little Christina’s crying. Bucky picks her up out of her carrier and starts to bounce her comfortingly. She almost immediately stops crying. Cherise smiles.

“You have a beautiful baby girl. Congratulations again,” the doctor explains. Cherise shakes her hand, thanking her. Bucky hands the baby to Cherise and thanks the doctor as well, shaking her hand.

“When you’re ready, just speak with the front desk to schedule the procedure, and I’ll see you again soon.”

“You hear that, baby? Mommy and I are gonna be able to get started on your little brother or sister in no time!” Bucky explains, talking to their baby. Cherise shakes her head.

“No more babies,” she laughs. Bucky giggles before kissing her temple. He didn’t really want to put Cherise through the misery that is pregnancy a second time.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it, Cherry?” he asks.

“Not as bad as I thought it was going to be. I’m just glad there was a culprit. Now you can stop blaming yourself.”

Bucky blushes somewhat, just happy that he managed to get Cherise to go to the doctor for the issue. It’s clear to him that it likely wouldn’t have resolved on its own.

           “I love you, James.”

           “I love you, too.”

[weaveroftruth]

Coming Undone

[Part 1]

ft. @velarishiku​

Rather long so I’ve broken it into a couple of posts, with more to come from our next RP session. Contains snippets of Vel’s backstory!

There was an eagerness in her eyes as they travelled towards the Mists. Vel had mentioned wanting to take her somewhere, but wouldn't give her more information than that, other than requesting she bring a bikini.

At Vel's teasing that they were nearly there, her excitement bubbled over, and she pestered to know where they were going, causing Vel to cave and hand her a flyer.

The first thing she noticed was the words mentioning 'Seaside Aquarium' and then a lot of information about the fish they had and other things causing Jade to grin.

"An aquarium? I've never been to one! Come on, let's go!"

They made their way around the aquarium slowly, taking in all the sights and talking about the fish. Jade pointed out the ones she liked and ended up poking the top of one of the aurelia polyps, giggling all the while. The half-hyur was practically bouncing with excitement.

As they left, making sure to leave a message in the message book, Jade needed to burn off her excess energy and grinned cheekily at Vel before making a run for the nearby beach, stripping off her clothes in the process to reveal her bikini underneath before dumping them in the sand. Ban'nin, always the excited puppy, followed eagerly behind.

Vel was beside her a moment later, a smile on her face as she poked fun at how excited Jade was. Jade teased her back in return by splashing her with a cheeky grin on her face. She then embraced the woman.

"You're a meanie. But... I love you." Vel murmured.

There was always a sense of joy that filled her whenever Vel said those words to her. Almost like she could do anything with the woman by her side. Despite that, there was this worry that Vel preferred being away from her that ate away at her. The lonely nights lately hadn't been helping.

"I love you too, Vel-bell." She smiled, her eyes twinkling as she gazed into the bright green eyes of her fiancee.

"I'm glad I got to come here with you."

"Really, love? I sort of figured you'd prefer to be off adventuring or something..." She wanted to bite her tongue, almost kicking herself for voicing her concerns to Vel. Vel didn't need to hear them.

"Mm... You really think I like being away from you...?"

"I worry sometimes that you prefer it... I don't think I make a very good partner."

She was caught off-guard when Vel's hand was placed against her cheek.

"You're... You're the best thing to ever happen to me, you know? You're a wonderful partner." Vel's voice was soft as she spoke, causing a weak smile from the half-hyur.

"Do you truly think that, my love?"

"I've been alone for a long, long time, by choice. Do you think I would lie to you about this...? You're worth it... Worth everything. I-I'm so happy with you, Jade..."

Jade leaned in to place a soft kiss against Vel's cheek, nuzzling against her for a moment. "I'm so happy with you as well, Vel... So very happy..." Then there was a pause, as her mind kicked into overdrive, taking in Vel's choice of wording as she analysed the woman for a moment. "What's a long, long time..?"

"A-ah... W-w-well... It's... a-a long, long time, you know...?"

Vel's stutter was back. It was a clear sign that Vel was nervous. It caused her to detach from the half-elezen and swim back just a little bit as she raised an eyebrow, watching the woman flinch under her gaze.

"Your stuttering's back in full force, dear... That means you're nervous..." There was a frown curling onto her lips. "Are you hiding something from me, Velari?"

She watched as Vel averted her gaze, staring into the water as the half-elezen started making excuses. This wasn't right… It couldn't be… It couldn't be happening again, could it..? To form a connection with someone and watch it all go up in flames after discovering they were lying..? Granted, her only previous relationship, both of them had spent a year lying about their life… But she thought it would be different this time… She'd been honest from the start about who she was, who she'd been… Why was Vel hiding something..? And something that seemed to be significant from the "I'm not even sure you would believe me" that came from Vel's lips.

She wanted to get away, but she couldn't. She didn't want to face this. With a silent beckon to Vel, she made her way out of the water, making sure Ban'nin followed behind.

"Do you want to talk here, or at home?" There was a terseness to her voice, as her mind filled with chaos… She didn't want all her fears to be real, but she would push it down for now. The second Vel mentioned home, she dressed before picking up Ban'nin and beginning the journey home. She didn't look behind once for Vel, buried too deep in her anger and hurt.

[Next >>]

[loreweaver-universe]

All right, all right, people are started to get annoyed rather than laughing, so let’s cut this short.  Here’s the story of how my mom accidentally poisoned me!

So I have asthma.  This went undiagnosed until I enlisted in the Air Force in 2007 and subsequently passed out in formation less than a week in.  (It went undiagnosed, interestingly, because in the words of the Air Force medic who tested me, I have the lung capacity of a lifelong wind instrument player or long-distance runner--so it all muddled out to slightly worse than average, and we thought I just got winded easily.  Nope!  I’m a weird mutant whose weird mutation just doesn’t work.  Go figure.)  People with asthma, it turns out, are quite often allergic to aspirin--something I didn’t take once in my entire runup to my twenties.

The first time I took an aspirin, because I’d run out of ibuprofen (the stuff in Advil) and decided to try something else, I just kinda wheezed a little and didn’t think much of it.

The second time I took aspirin, it was worse, and I realized I was having some kind of weird reaction, so I stopped taking it.  Then I found out I was allergic because asthma, went to the store, bought a five hundred pill candybottle of ibuprofen, put it on my shelf, and didn’t have another headache for four months.

The next time I had a headache, the ibuprofen gave me a pretty rough asthma attack.  Because!  Guess what!  There’s a whole class of what’s called Non-Steroidal Anti-Inflammatory Drugs, or NSAIDs, that are perfectly fine for asthmatic people to take...until they trigger their aspirin allergy.

After that, they’re poison.

At this point, I do a bunch of research and discover that nearly every over-the-counter painkiller available to me is ibuprofen-based.  The stuff that I’m told is safe for me to take is acetaminophen, the stuff in Tylenol.  Half the acetaminophen-based painkillers out there have ibuprofen in them, too.  It’s a nightmare finding stuff safe for me to take, and around this time my sinus polyps are really getting going and I’m suffering daily pressure headaches which is a whole other ball of fun let me tell you.  So I get in the habit of buying 500-pill candybottles of generic 500mg Tylenol tablets, keep a general eye out for safety’s sake, and otherwise largely leave the whole thing on the shelf.

I make it to my second year of college without another incident.

Spring of 2014, my mother’s in Bangor, picking me up so we can have dinner out, and I complain about headaches when I get in the car.  (I had surgery to remove the sinus polyps!  They’re growing back by this point.)  She hems and haws, because she has a couple Aleve in a plastic baggie that she keeps around for her personal painkilling needs, and she can’t remember whether they’re ibuprofen or not.  We look it up--there’s no ibuprofen or aspirin in it, hooray!  It’s got something called naproxen sodium instead.

At this point, we aren’t aware that acetaminophen isn’t just safe for me to take, it’s the only safe painkiller for me to take.  Naproxen sodium is another NSAID, and I’m in for a rough night, because I pop that sucker in my mouth like it’s the cure for nose cancer and we head off to Chili’s to try them out for dinner.

I’m pretty much okay when we walk in the door.  We order appetizers--I get a little dish with soft pretzel sticks in it--and we get to chatting about life.  As the conversation goes on, I get a little coughy, and a little snotty, and then I have to excuse myself to the bathroom a few times to blow my nose, because at this point my respiratory system is trying to strangle itself.  The pretzel sticks come and I’m starting to wheeze, but I barely care because I tried one of those bastards and they were goddamn incredible.  My mother starts to get scared, despite my insistence that this has happened before, and she and I eventually get up to leave because she wants to drive me to the emergency room.  While she’s apologizing to the restaurant manager (who insists on turning down her offer to pay for the food we ordered), I dash back to the table and grab the five remaining pretzel sticks, because screw leaving those behind.

So begins the most memorable car ride of my entire life.

Mom’s driving through downtown Bangor, starting to panic, because at this point I am audibly choking on my own throat, but I’m on cloud nine because these god damn pretzel sticks, man, holy shit.  I’m snarfing them down, and babbling about how good they are--and anyone who’s spent any amount of time around my mother and I at the same time knows my absolute favorite game is making her laugh--and generally doing my best (somewhat on purpose, even) to distract her from the fact that her son is suffocating in the passenger’s seat.  She, meanwhile, is doing her damnedest not to swerve off the road, because she’s alternating between hysterical tears of terror and hysterical tears of laughter.  She rolls down the window so I can get some fresh air, and I alternate between gulping down oxygen and suffocating myself with pretzel sticks because why are these so goddamn good.

Mom’s losing her shit laughing when we pull up to the hospital, and I’m red-faced, pretzel-less, and starting to slow down, so she pulls up to the ambulance door and runs inside.  After being directed by a very annoyed desk clerk to pull around the side, we go inside, and while I make a few more half-hearted efforts to tell jokes, I spend most of the rest of my wait red-faced and desperately dragging breaths through my closing windpipe.  I’m in a bad way, guys.  Mom finally gets them to bring me in ahead of some people who aren’t suffocating to death, and they pump me full of some kind of Benadryl cocktail, which makes me loopy and high and sleepy.  I spend a few hours drifting in and out of consciousness, high off my ass (and boy howdy do I hate being high) and at one point, because I’m in no state of mind to do social math, I tease Mom about getting me that Dave Strider figurine I wanted.  Then i go back to sleep.

Eventually, I’m good to go.  I get sent off with some information about my condition, plus the knowledge that this particular allergic reaction gets worse every time it happens.  The next time it happens, I may die before I get to the hospital.  Mom takes me to a pharmacy, buys me a pair of epi-pens I never wind up needing because I get religious about being careful what I put in my mouth (I still have ‘em, because I’m not throwing away three h u n d r e d dollars of medicine, what the hell is wrong with you) and...well, honestly, the night past that point is a bit of a blur, because I’m loopy from the meds and just had a near-death experience.

A couple weeks later, though, I got a surprise in the mail!

This is Dave Strider!  I almost died to get him.  Literally!

To this day, Mom and I tease each other about how she spent my entire childhood not murdering my insufferable mug, only to almost kill me by accident once I was out of her hair.  I’ve been sending her screenshots of your reblogs and tags and discord messages and she has been laughing her ass off.

So, I’m sorry I strung you all along for that long, but I did say my favorite game was making my mother laugh.

[bellatrixobsessed1]

Wrought Iron Machine

This fic is a remake of https://www.fanfiction.net/s/10927451/1/Iron-Lotus I published that one about 5 years ago. I was going to simply update it but I kind of didn't like what I had started. This fic will be the same exact principal and theme but with a more solid direction and (imo) better writing.

I'd also like to note that this is a somewhat AU setting in that it takes place at the time of LoK but with the Avatar characters (Azula, Zuko, etc.) still in their teen years.

Summary: Wrought Iron Machine is in an 80′s style metal band. With rival band, Fire Of Agni on the rise, Kuvira begins to far that her band is past its prime and fading out of popularity. Between an in-band rivalry and a rocky engagement, she fears for how they will fare in battle of the bands. 

Kuvira nears a sleeping Gazhan, scowling to herself as she nearly trips over an empty beer bottle. The man is a mess. A hungover mess, it’s not the kind of image she wants for Wrought Iron Machine. She doesn’t want to be even in the same realm as Fire Of Agni with their trashy and shallow lyrics. All that those kids do is get drunk or high and make a mess of whatever venue is cursed with hosting their show. And that isn’t even factoring in the controversy they had most recently stirred and continue to stir. She nudges Gazhan awake. “Get yourself together, we have another show tonight.” It takes some furious willpower to not ask him what the hell he was thinking, why the hell he thought it would be a good idea to drink so heavily the night before a show.

She knows the answer anyways. They had just finished their first show of the Fire Nation stretch of their world tour. She admits that it is reason enough to celebrate. But some restraint on his behalf would have been nice.

“Come on, Gazhan.” She hisses, giving him another nudge.

“Eh, leave ‘im.” Ming mutters sleepily. “Just let ‘im be.”

Kuvira could swear that Ming is at least slightly hungover, herself. The two usually drink together, she won’t be surprised to find that last night had been any different. “I’ll let him be when I know he won’t make us late for our own show. We’ve been in this industry for nearly two decades now, and we haven’t cancelled or been late yet.”

Ming rolls her eyes. “When are you gonna pull that stick out of your asshole? This is rock ‘n roll, not some high-class business conference.”

Kuvira pinches her nose. She doesn’t have time to butt heads with Ming again. “Just make sure he gets up.” She still has to fix herself a cup of tea. Raava knows that her throat would soon depend on those. She sits herself down, staring at the memorabilia hung on the wall; golden record won during the height of their fame, a silver one from when they had first began, a cluster of medals and ribbons, and an even bigger slew of magazine pages and covers they had been featured on.

Those are becoming fewer and fewer and she is beginning to wonder if their time in the spotlight is over. Maybe it has been for a while. People are moving onto the next big thing. Unfortunately, the next big thing seems to be Fire Of Agni. Kuvira doesn’t understand, it is just noise. Senseless noise and so much screaming. Screaming to the point where one could barely discern any of the lyrics--perhaps that is a mercy.

Kuvira finishes her tea and lights up a cigarette.

“What’s the point in having tea if you’re just gonna do that?” Baatar takes a seat across the table. There is an undertone of chiding about his words.

She gives her fiance a pointed sigh.

Hearing it he state, “you said that you were done with that.”

“Not now Baatar…” She brings the cigarette to her lips.

“Then when?” He asks. “After your lungs are black and…”

She holds up a hand.

“How are you going to sing if you burn your lungs up?”

It takes a deal of self-control to keep from slamming her hand on the table. She is tired of the well-meaning lectures. “Does it really matter?” She asked. “How much longer do you think Wrought Iron Machine is going to last? Do you remember when we played in Shu Jing, ten years ago? We sold out, the venue was overflowing. Now we just barely get it half-full.”

“We sold out in Republic City, Zaofu, Omashu, and...”

“Of course we sold out in Zaofu, that’s our home city! We sell out in the Earth Kingdom all the time, it’s our home land.”

“What about Repub--”

“Do you know who else sells out in the Earth Kingdom?”

Baatar frowns and, with a roll of his eyes, says it as she does, “Fire Of Agni.”

“And they just debuted, what? A month ago? Yet we can’t even sell out one Fire Nation show anymore. We don’t even sell half of our tickets in the Tribes.”

“Does anyone sell out in the Tribes?” Baatar asks.

“We used to…” She trails off. Her anger subsiding with it.

Baatar takes her hand and plucks the cigarette from between her fingers and puts it out on the table. He squeezes her hand. She stares at the cigarette, still convinced that it truly didn’t matter. She is under the impression that she can’t sing like she used to no matter what she does. Many years of harsher vocal styles, a few instances of laryngitis, and a phonomicrosurgery later her vocal cords aren’t what they used to be. And she is only in her early forties.

She can’t help but wonder if there was anything she could have done to prevent her case of polyps.

Perhaps she should have listened when her doctors had cautioned her to take more breaks and write a few more ballads.

Oh Raava, she could only imagine the abuse the Fire Of Agni girl’s throat and vocal cords were taking. At least Kuvira has some smooth vocals in her songs. From the sound of it, the girl does all of the screaming and her brother takes the clean vocals.

“What are you thinking about?” Baatar asks.

She doesn’t have time to answer when she hears a, “get your lazy, hungover ass out of bed, raavadammit!”

It is much too loud to be Ming. She hears a grumble and a snort and the shifting of blankets against a mattress.

“Get the fuck up!” There comes the sound of something being thrown and then footsteps coming towards she and Baatar. P’Li yanks a chair out.

“Morning P’Li.” Baatar greets.

“He’s so fucking lazy. I swear.” She turns to Kuvira. “Got a light?” Every time a new stressor arose, so would the woman’s lighter. Not that Kuvira blamed her anymore.

“Baatar just took my last.”

“Of course.” P’Li grumbles. “Ya know, this is why we’re falling behind. Gazhan can’t even roll his lazy ass outta bed.”

Kuvira rolls her eyes. Perhaps that is one of many reasons. “When are the two of you going to end this feud of yours? We can’t afford in-band fights when we have Fire Of Agni to rival.”

“It’ll end when Ghazan stops picking up groupie chicks and starts picking up his bass.” She pauses. “Fuck, you would think he’d notice how Ming looks at ‘im.”

A fair point. “As long as he’s ready by tonight, I suppose that it doesn’t matter.” And it doesn’t. It matters as little as she resuming her smoking habit. They are falling behind so she might as well do what she will. Her voice has already taken some damage, what is one more cigarette? She stares out the window as Yon Rha’s village comes into view. Is she even having fun anymore? Once upon a time, back when she was in her early twenties, back when they had only a few months under their belts, she approached every show with a sense of eagerness and giddy anticipation. Now she can’t even muster a shred of enthusiasm. Does she even like this anymore? Does she even want to do it? Is Fire Of Agni really destroying the metal scene for her that much?

When had things become less about the music and more about the fame?

[thenewnio]

Mermaid!Majorika AU Continued

Rika awoke in water.

Opening her eyes, she looked around the... Where was she? There were fish she didn’t know looking at her in confusion, and the water was different in that there was no salt. Furthermore, she could see four stone walls bordering her surroundings.

How long had she been out? Obviously, it had been quite a while because she didn’t remember a single thing of how she got here.

Wherever here was.

Shifting around, Rika felt pain shoot through her tail. She looked down to see a bandage wrapped tightly around her tail.

She knew of only one species other than a Mer capable of using this kind of method. Humans.

A small fish swam forward, addressing her in the language all fish spoke. “Hi there. Are you a-”

“Junior!” The little fish’s mother quickly swam forward and nudged her son back.

“I gotta get out of here...” Rika muttered as she swam upwards, towards the surface. If she got a good look at the area beyond this enclosed space, she could better plan her escape.

Breaking the surface of the water, Rika looked around. This place was definitely one of those ponds she had heard about, only artificial. As she scanned the surrounding area, she froze.

Looming before her was a huge house.

Oh dear Neptune...

It was just as she feared. She had been captured by humans.

Humans weren’t allowed to know of the existence of the Mer. It was a law that all water folk followed. The idea of humans being fully aware of their existence would bring more hunting and the possibility that humans could hunt their kind was all too real.

Being in human territory, being saved by humans meant that Rika had given away her people’s existence. These humans, whoever they were, may not be the first to know about her. In her current situation, even with her powers, she wasn’t capable of escaping. Sure, she was trapped in an open topped human made pool for fish, which she could easily crawl out of, but who knew how far away from the ocean she was?

Realizing how bad this really was, Rika mentally went over some ideas of escape. Despite being a sea witch, she couldn’t erase the humans’ memories of her, as such spells were forbidden for very good reason. She also didn’t have any potion to give herself legs on her, and even if she did, those were illegal as well. She had no idea whether or not her upper body was strong enough for her to quickly drag herself around on land.

Just as she began to consider the available options, she heard footsteps and voices coming her way.

Let them come. Rika thought. I oughta give them a piece of my mind...

...

Bags of broiled lobster, shrimp and sushi in hands, the trio turned the corner of Hazuki’s house to see red eyes staring right at them burning with fury.

“YOU!!!”

All three girls jumped with a collective yelp, dropping their seafood laden bags.

Oh boy. Rika thought when she saw that her rescuers/captors were children. For her, human children were the absolute worst.

"What... the heck... am I doing here?!” She demanded, pushing her upper body upwards. Only she didn’t actually say ‘heck’, but a ruder word that I won’t repeat, since this is a children’s story.

Hazuki and Aiko hid behind Doremi, who tried to reassure herself with the knowledge that the mermaid couldn’t do anything out of water. “W-Well, uh...” She began shakily, her voice barely audible.

“Spit it out, human!” The mermaid hissed. The girls all squealed again when they saw her tailfin flare out, displaying a bright green.

Trying to shove aside the fear, Doremi blurted out “You were hurt really bad! We found you on the beach, and...” She trailed off, watching the way the mermaid’s eyebrow slowly lifted, giving the girls the most skeptical look they had ever seen. A few moments of silence passed.

“I don’t need a human’s help.” The mermaid grumbled, lowering herself back down from her pushed up position.

Hazuki then spoke up, remembering how the mermaid’s injury looked as though it was caused by a weapon. “How did you get hurt, anyway?” She asked, concerned.

“None of your business!” The mermaid shot back glaring at them. “Now, get me out of here.”

The girls shoulders slumped. They didn’t mean to keep her against her will, but if they had released her back into the sea and something worse happened to her, they would feel nothing but guilt for the rest of their lives. They weren’t even sure how they were going to sneak her back to the ocean, especially considering how hard it was to load her unconscious body into Mr. Senoo’s wheelbarrow, and dump her into the Fujiwaras’ pond.

“Listen, um...” Hazuki said. “It’s not that easy. We just... can’t take you back home until you’re healed.”

The mermaid replied “So what, you’re gonna keep me here like I’m some kinda pet? Fat chance.” She folded her arms.

“Aw c’mon!” Doremi protested. “The least you could do is thank us.”

She received a scoff in response.

Aiko growled. “That’s it! This mermaid’s already gettin’ on my nerves.” She stomped over to the mermaid and grabbed her face, pulling her close. “Now, you listen here, sea hag! You’re in our world, now! We just saved yer scaly butt, so if you wanna live, ya gotta stick by our rules, or you’re fishfeed! Got it?!” The Osakan threw the mermaid back, the latter’s body making a splash in the pond.

Was that a threat? Even though this human was far younger than her, Rika couldn’t help but feel only slightly intimidated. However, the last thing she wanted was for these humans to have complete power over her.

“No use threatening me!” She exclaimed once she resurfaced.

“We’re not threatening you.” Hazuki explained. “We’re just saying that there are ground rules that you need to follow until it’s time for you to go home.”

“Kid, do you even know who I am?” The mermaid narrowed her eyes.

“Uh... Should we?” Hazuki asked.

“I’m not the kind of Mer you humans talk about in your stories.” The mermaid leaned closer to them. “I’m also a sea witch who can and will drown you IF YOU DON’T GET ME OUT OF THIS POND!!!”

Hazuki and Aiko grabbed each other and screamed, while Doremi remained rooted to the spot. This mermaid was a sea witch? She remembered reading H.C. Andersen’s fairy tale, and if there was one thing that it had taught her, it was that sea witches were not to be trusted.

But then again, the sea witch in that story, unlike the one in the Disney adaptation, didn’t actually do anything really bad, like try to take over the ocean, or turn innocent merfolk into polyps. If that was the case, then this one might actually be good... Right?

“SHUT UP YOUR MOUTHS!” The sea witch hollered, putting an end to Hazuki and Aiko‘s freakout. The two girls stopped screaming and stared at her in fear.

Doremi, however, chose to stand her ground. “You can’t scare my friends like that!”

The sea witch was taken aback. “...What.”

Doremi declared “You should be grateful that we saved you! We even got you some food! But if you’re gonna yell at us, then you’re not getting any of it. Right guys?”

Hazuki and Aiko looked at each other, then nodded.

“What are you saying?” The sea witch glared at them. “That you’re gonna starve me? Nice try, kid. There are plenty of fish in here for me to eat.”

Hearing this from above, every fish in the pond decided that now was a good time to retreat into their respective homes to stay there and wait until the newcomer was gone.

“No, not the fish!” Hazuki panicked. “What will my family think?!”

“What’ll happen when you run out?” Doremi asked.

At this, Rika froze. She hadn’t thought of that.

Doremi picked up the bags she was carrying and turned to leave. “Okay, then. If you’re gonna be that way...”

“Wait!” The sea witch shouted. “WAIT!”

Doremi turned back around. “Take your pick. It’s sea or starvation. Besides, don’t you want to get back home?”

Silence.

“You drive a hard bargain.” The sea witch grumbled, sinking back into the pond. “Fine. Just as long as I get home safe.”

The three girls cheered. “YEAH!”

Hazuki then approached the pond with one of the bags. “We’re so glad you came around. We understand you’re mad that you’re basically stuck here, but there’s no reason for you to take it out on us.”

“Yeah, yeah.” The sea witch said, her voice uncharacteristically quiet.

Hazuki placed the bag next to the pond’s edge and took out a red lobster. “Here. I think you might like this. We didn’t know what merpeople eat, so we got you a lot of things.”

The sea witch looked at the lobster, then at the girls. “You got names?”

“Hazuki Fujiwara.” Hazuki introduced herself before gesturing to Aiko. “This is Aiko Senoo.” Aiko gave the peace sign.

“And I’m Doremi Harukaze.” Doremi chimed in.

“Doremi?” The sea witch snickered. “Dumbest name I’ve ever heard.”

“It’s probably better than whatever you’re called.” Doremi deadpanned.

This set the sea witch off again. “You don’t even know my name!”

“What is your name?” Hazuki asked.

“Rika Makihatayama.” The sea witch responded.

“Nice to meet you, Rika.” Hazuki smiled. Rika said nothing.

Hopefully, now that they were introduced, they could be more civil to each other.

[aquilacat]

Okay! Time to get healthy

What better time to start fresh with my health than right after a colonoscopy? They DID remove a polyp, so I am still recovering from that. I have the energy to buzz and run around and just GO, but I have to hold myself back. Yesterday at work, I felt it by the end of the day, a tenseness where they removed the polyp and a slight pinching. Not much, but I can tell exactly where they removed it, and I can tell it needs to heal. So I’ve been taking it easy.

I feel lighter though, which I guess isn’t all that surprising after that extreme of a cleanse, right? But I want to KEEP feeling this way, and not feel... sludgy. So even though I went and got fast food after work yesterday, I did splurge and get some chicken nuggets, but I also got a good sized salad to eat, too. And I got limeade instead of a soda. I’m aiming for small choices, but smarter choices.

For the last few weeks (since the orthopedic doctor told me to lose some weight to help my knees) I HAD been choosing food options with low carbs (and lower sodium just for funsies). It did help me lose the 5 pounds I gained while I was in Utah, but it was based on the keto diet, which I hear isn’t the best for your heart in the long run... I did think the amount of carbs they suggested a day was a bit extreme. I absolutely was not sticking to it, but I had halved the amount of carbs I usually took in. I can keep choosing options with lower carbs, but I’m not going to keep track of how many carbs I’m eating. I’m just generally going to pick options with lower sodium, sugars, and carbs and see how that goes. Choose the healthiest (but also tasty) options at restaurants and fast food joints. Go for pickles when I want to eat because I’m bored or just craving food instead of chips and fried foods. Put less sugar and creamer in my coffee while I’m at work. Try to remember to drink water on occasion. I’m also going to attempt to find the time to walk around more. It’s difficult to manage during a busy workweek (especially when the easy exercise of taking the stairs at work is no longer an option since it hurts my knees), but I’ll try my best.

I’m at 158# right now, and my long-term goal is about #140, so that should be manageable.

[brownstonearmy]

2021-03-06: Court Ordered Appearances, Pt. 1

Tuesday August 25 (morning, foggy)

On a foggy Tuesday morning, Disco and Spleenifer wake up in beds that are not their own. The pair appear to be in some sort of barracks; it's a bit nicer than military barracks, but not as opulent as Yula's guest quarters. A robed person enters the room and introduces himself as a court official. The two of them have been summoned to Swanmark to give expert testimony in a high-profile case. The other members of their adventuring party are supposedly en route to the location, but there were some logistical and jurisdictional hurdles that had to be overcome first. Spleenifer makes a remark about going to sleep resulting in free vacations to Swanmark.

A silver dragon is accused of murder for eating the reality-star celebrity adventurer, Anaxilas. Murder trials happen on a speedy timeline in Swanmark, and since Anaxilas hasn't been seen for a few days, things aren't looking too good for the dragon. There's only a short window of time before an automatic execution is scheduled, and there's not enough time for evidence to pass through draconic bowels in the conventional way.

However, the dragon has given her consent to have a party of investigators be miniaturized and search her insides for evidence. Such logic irritates Disco, who states "You don't have qualms about consent for putting someone to death, but you draw the line at putting someone up a dragon's butt!" Except the party isn't going through the metaphorical back door; they're going in through the toothy end.

Since there are no holding cells made to house a dragon, the accused is laying in the town square. Ropes are tethering her to the ground, and she appears to be heavily sedated. The court official gives Disco and Spleenifer a few potions to shrink them down to the proper size and bids them good luck.

As the two tread along the surface of the tongue, their steps trigger the dragon's swallowing reflex. Spleenifer and Disco tumble through a rough passageway whose walls are lined with spikes pointing the same direction, presumably to keep food from escaping. Disco manages to not get stuck, but Spleenifer gets caught between a few of the spikes. As she struggles to free herself, the court official yells that he forgot to give them something.

Falling through the passageway is an Adventure Gem containing the last known image of Anaxilas alive. It collides with Spleenifer, who catches it before it can get lost inside the dragon. The picture on the gem depicts the hero inside a silver dragon's mouth, wielding a sword and shield (and of course the belt that lets people see what he's up to).

Sounds of flapping and dragging reverberate from farther down the dragon's gullet. In the dim light let into the gullet through the dragon's mouth, Disco spots an undead hand clutching a sword that looks a lot like Anaxilas's sword. The hand is also wearing a metal ring with an emerald set in it. And since the party got shrunk down, that undead hand is the same size as each of the party members.

But it's a hand with no mouth (and it doesn't seem immediately hostile), so Disco tries to communicate with it via sign language. And it goes well!

"Not supposed to give up sword," the hand signs back. A soundless conversation ensues, and Disco learns that the sword is indeed Anaxilas's sword. The hand signs that it is Anaxilas and that there are no other body parts to recover from Anaxilas's corpse. It then signs for the duo to follow it, which Spleenifer and Disco do.

The hand drags its sword toward a passageway with lots of moving air. It stops in the middle of a chamber that appears to be a faintly glowing pouch of some kind. Disco's face begins to feel a little tingly. The hand signs that everything is fine from the middle of the chamber. But when the tingling turns to numbness, Disco reconsiders the logic behind listening to an undead hand.

With sudden fury at being questioned, the hand attacks. Spleenifer smites the hand with her quarterstaff, while Disco heats the metal of the sword to keep the hand from using it. Some of the fingers get ripped from the hand, but it still has its thumb and middle finger, which it uses to voice its discontent at the situation. The remains of the hand leave the sword and skitter to the corner to cower until the party goes away.

And the party does leave, though not without taking some of the spoils for their trouble. The two hold their breath and dash in to snag the finger holding the ring and the sword. Once the sword (also the size of our miniature party members) is picked up by someone, the voice of Anaxilas rings out from the blade:

"If you are hearing this, I am dead." There's a whole long speech that follows, something about truth and justice, and allowing time to grieve, and a request to tell Norbert that he was loved. It takes several moments of sword dragging before the dictated obituary concludes. Disco pries the ring off the finger and wears it as an armband, while Spleenifer uses the unadorned finger as a chunky walking staff.

As the duo leave the sac containing the dragon's paralytic breath weapon, Spleenifer spots the remains of another humanoid; this one appears to have been dead for some time, though their armor still seems to be pristine. The corpse has no use for armor at this time, so clearly they won't mind if Spleenifer relieves them of it. Although it does not provide the same level of protection as her normal chainmail, this armor seems to have resisted corrosion from the hazards of being inside a dragon's guts.

The pair trek back from whence they came before being tricked by the hand, and follow a different passage that leads to a smelly, acid-filled cavern that appears to be the dragon's stomach. An undead skull wreathed in green flame is tethered to the wall of the stomach by a thick chain. It cackles as the adventurers approach.

"Tell me a joke!" it demands. "I'm bored!"

Disco regales the skull with a zinger about Arthur Itus, which sounds like arthritis and is thus an acceptable joke to tell a flaming skull. The skull wants help getting free from the chain, but after what happened with trusting the hand, a little more skepticism is warranted. Negotiations happen, and the skull tells of the guy who tethered him to the chain. It's been a while since the skull came down the dragon hatch, so it doesn't remember names and just calls most of the creatures living in the dragon "Guy." Guy comes down every so often to drag food out of the stomach after the dragon eats and cooks it on the skull's flame.

And speaking of food, the skull reported that a few sheep got eaten recently. This isn't particularly noteworthy, except that one of the sheep had a shield, a sword, and a belt tied to it. Guy shows up like usual, takes the sheep and the goodies, and leaves. This is a strange development, and the party considers releasing the skull on the condition that they can be certain the skull will not harm them (even indirectly). So the party asks the skull how to get Guy to come over to hear his side of the story.

That part is straightforward: the skull screams that food has arrived, and a small shadowy figure emerges at the far end of the stomach. The figure seems to be of Drow descent, except he's the same height as the rest of the party: approximately 6 inches tall. That's Guy.

Guy's been living on a tiny raft in the dragon's bladder for about 200 years to avoid being tortured and enslaved by his sister for the unfortunate crime of being born a male. And also the crime of refusing to worship Lolth, the evil Spider Queen. So he got himself eaten by a dragon to escape an unfortunate and short life of misery. He's probably got about another 200 years left before he dies of old age, so things are looking pretty good.

Plus, it turns out that dragon urine has lots of residual magic in it, which enhances spell effects. He's got a rope trick that leads to permanent little pocket dimension. Well, it's permanent as long as the rope stays wet, if you know what I mean.

Spleenifer and Disco attempt to ascertain where the rest of Anaxilas's equipment is, as well as additional information about the sheep. And with good bread being in short supply in the dragon's stomach, Guy is willing to trade several of his possessions (including the Anaxilas/sheep stuff) for all the party's food. The deal is finalized, and the party comes away with what they've been looking for. All that's left is to find a way out of the dragon's cloaca, but that's where things get difficult.

There are potentially two major pathways to the cloaca, but Guy has no desire to leave the dragon and he's never gone all the way outside. Swimming through the bladder is one way, if you can hold your breath long enough. The other way is through the colon, though you would have to stimulate the walls of the bowels to trigger a release. And to top it off, there's a partially decomposed demilich named Monsignor Grylls who lurks somewhere near the cloaca.

Disco and Spleenifer opt for traversing the colon as the safest option, provided they don't light any fires in the area. Unfortunately, the sphincter is blocked by a sizable nugget of rock-hard poop. Nugget is probably not the most appropriate word for something that is (relatively) the size of a small apartment, but whatever. As Spleenifer collects a tithe and chisels a way through the blockage, a bejeweled skull unlatches its jaw from where it was clinging like a colon polyp.

It's Monsignor Grylls, and he is an even worse than the first skull. He unleashes a horrible wail that brings the party to its knees and stirs up a poopy dust-storm in the colon. Disco and Spleenifer avoid the blinding dust for the most part, and Spleenifer wields the giant finger like a quarterstaff (yeah, we didn't forget she still had it) and jams it into Grylls' nose cavity.

Disco casts Cloud of Daggers, trapping Monsignor in the whirling mass of blades. Monsignor starts up another dust cloud as Spleenifer readies her Wait Watcher and chucks the small stone into Monsignor's cackling mouth before it expands, dealing 2d8 bludgeoning damage. Although Monsignor is taking a beating, he's not out of the fight yet, and sucks a small bit of soul from both Disco and Spleenifer, healing himself in the process.

Before things can get worse, Spleenifer remember's Guy's advice about stimulating the colon for release. So she unleashes a powerful smite against the fleshy walls and the floor starts to rumble. Spells are flying, but Monsignor is too far away to reach Disco and Spleenifer as the sphincter opens up and sends them tumbling to freedom with evidence in hand.

Stay tuned next time for more!

[floggingink]

Riverdale, “Chapter Twenty: Tales from the Darkside”

THIS ISN’T DOWN TO THE WIRE, KEVIN

I think most of the references this ep went over my head, as I am not a classic horror connoisseur, but I’m giving it the old college try

CHUCK AND HIS 18-INCH WAIST IS BACK!

Sixth period is Intro to Film: for starters, the opening text crawl is from the beginning of the original Texas Chainsaw Massacre, and they did this to placate Jughead, who has an amazing episode this week in that he fucking survives to the end of it

oh yeah, Betty got Mr. Phillips killed!

I like that in response to the circumstances Betty and Jughead have started sinning MORE

Jug’s snake tattoo has a little crown on it, because history will not be denied/he’s a dweeb

Jughead’s being very dutifully “You didn’t do anything wrong, etc.,” and Betty absolutely cuts him off like, “BUT HOW THE FUCK?”

he calls her “Poirot,” which is like Betty calling him a rebel without a cause

ah, the poster of which is by his bed! Jughead has a bedroom!!!! you’ve earned it, champ!

Sexy, aesthetic Southside: I don’t remember if Penny Peabody had crimped hair the last time she and Jughead met, but it’s straight outta 00’s Avril Lavigne and I love it

the Kentucky Derby blinders Jughead has for his father are Riverdale’s truest tragedy. FP is doing him so wrong

Jughead is going to be Penny’s “transportation advisor,” because he’s such a good driver

LOVED the Kill Bill typewriter “Archie & Jughead” titles

What damn high school in America: you know Jughead just totally skipped class and sauntered into Riverdale High in his fucking jacket. now that his English teacher is gone, what’s the fucking point? can he still run his paper?

Gay?!: Cheryl calls them Bert and Ernie as she shoves them aside like they were made of papier-mâché (Bert and Ernie are life partners)

I like Jughead’s sort of layered expression when he’s asking Archie for help/telling Archie he’s going to help him, like he’s slightly smiling when he talks about the Ghoulies “stunt”

Archie COMMENDABLY says NOTHING about the huge crate full of drugs (it’s not POSSIBLY full of drugs, or even pancake mix) he’s about to get his prints all over. Riverdale would never have them pick up a like a metal Law & Order box, it’s got to be like a fucking pirate chest

Archie & Jug in the truck was presh. Archie had a lot of Fred-esque lines, but I think he’s filtering his true fears about Jughead ENDING UP IN PRISON, WHICH IS WHERE HE IS HEADED, into father-speak, and Jughead, whose father blows, is like I DON’T KNOW, DAD, I’M LIVING MINUTE TO MINUTE HERE

—which is very traumatized, you know? like when you’re growing up, if you’re too hassled and anxious you get holes in your developing brain because it’s too focused on constantly being in fight-or-flight survival mode to the detriment of learning how to be a person? Jughead doesn’t have time for anything that isn’t literally getting to the end of today, possibly sleeping with Betty

I like how Archie’s fantasy does NOT include college, which he doesn’t care about

Jughead doubts it: GQ tells me the East Village is still around, Jughead

not even in his dreams does Archie imagine Veronica would NOT be living on Park Avenue

I like the possibility-thread of “Even worse than jail” being cut off by the flat

Jughead wants to call Betty, his fixer, but then they’re like, How about the sheriff’s son?

would Kevin even have helped them out? he’s not into the shady anymore! he’s post-Joaquin!

Jughead has grand movie-thoughts about his own persona but has not “played it cool” once in his life

OH GREAT, IT’S TONY TODD. IT’S THE FUCKING CANDYMAN. GREAT. GREAT. HOW THE FUCK. WHAT. THE FUCKING—WHAT????????

Jughead only has $18 and he carries it with him wherever he goes

Jughead RELEASES Archie from his friendship debt before getting into McGinty’s truck, because HE’S ABOUT TO DIE

“DON’T LOOK UNDER THAT TARP”

JUGHEAD TAKING HIS LAST LOOK AT ARCHIE IN THE REARVIEW

The Blossom spawn: when Tony Todd fucking invoked Jason fucking Blossom, on top of everything else, ON TOP OF EVERYTHING ELSE, I had a fucking myocardial infarction

McGinty throwing out the time warp phrase “for just a hot minute”

okay the lighting in the truck makes his eyes reflect these tiny pinpoints of white out of the beyond-the-grave voids of his eyes and that Judgement Day shit is on the radio and Jughead is like, this is too much atmosphere even for me

“IN THE BLACK OF THE HOOD IS THE LIGHT OF GOD, AND WHEN YOU SEE IT, YOU WILL DIE.” WHAT? WHAT???? WHAAAAATTTTT???????

and then Archie sees a zombie deer. he sees like a fawn with its fucking skin blistered off. he sees a fucking Chernobyl deer. walking precisely the line between Riverdale and Greendale. great. Greendale is full of ghosts. Jughead is in a death truck driven by the Riverdale Reaper’s sixth victim or something. GREAT. GREENDALE IS FULL OF GHOSTS! GREAT!

Jughead wears his watch face very rakishly on the inside of his wrist

for a hot second, I thought the flies were bees. I did think they were bees. I did think they were doing Candyman

BECAUSE IT’S FUCKING TONY TODD!!!!!!!

you know Jughead was going to look under the tarp. you fucking knew it. he’s in act two of a horror movie. he’s going to relay this story later and say he didn’t look under the tarp? what’s under the tarp? WHAT’S IN THE BOX

deer too dead even to still walk around

I’ve seen this like three times and I can’t tell you what the fuck he’s eating in that shitty cafe. steak? Jell-O? kitten flesh?

the way he says “I’m no thrill-seeking sicko,” sucking on the S’s

the single fly buzzing around McGinty’s shoulder as he tells the Reaper story was like a single further death omen and if it turned out Jughead was already a zombie like in that comic you know, I would’ve fucking bought it, fuck it, what the fuck

some people THINK a lynch mob got him? there was a RUMOR lynch mob? or there was DEFINITELY a lynch mob that only MIGHT HAVE lynched the right person??? I’M GONNA NEED SOME CLARIFICATION, POP TATE

California in my experience is exactly where you should be to pray to the devil

I loved how fast things went incredibly south in the diner. the thud of the check, McGinty saying Jughead would pay, Jughead beings like, Pardon me? Jughead about to be LEFT BEHIND

“YOU’RE SINNERS, BOTH OF YOU. CAREFUL OR YOU’LL TASTE THE REAPER’S BLADE NEXT.”

Archie > Dawson: Archie is, simultaneously, the worst and best person to have along with you inside a horror movie, because he’s sort of dense but also will never give you up, never let you down, desert you (if it’s a Good Archie episode, which this unmistakably is). Archie is the only character I would buy forgetting he was there and miraculously he shows back up in the nick of time

next we have Archie and Jughead driving around some more with the Friday the 13th echoing exhale sound effect in the background, just for funsies

Fifth period is AP English: Penny’s fucking Arctic exploration crate has all this HP Lovecraft motif lore on the side of it, so, cool, I guess it contains screaming desiccated souls or something (Lovecraftian Ghouls eat flesh, by the way)

“Damn good coffee”: aaaaaaaaand coming out to meet them is a Soviet spy wearing a beret, wheeled out by Karla, with an AK on his hip. Greendale contains the trapped spirits of everyone who died there in the 70’s

These students are legally children: Jughead is screwed. Jughead is so screwed. Jughead is one part vodka, two parts orange juice

Archie’s coloring lends itself well to being bathed in that pink Pop’s lighting I love

Jughead has recovered enough to call McGinty (who isn’t named aloud) “Mr. American Gothic”

JUGHEAD WANTS TO GO TO THE LIBRARY WITH ARCHIE. he doesn’t want to do drug runs. he wants to snoop around with his best friend, because despite having a gang in his bloodline, Jughead is REALLY not a gang member. when he gets to choose what he wants to do, he just wants to do research. he wants to be Giles, okay

endless tragedy with Archie’s “Next day, for sure.”

I would absolutely believe that Riverdale’s jail’s visiting hours are actually “sunup to sundown” as opposed to like “eight to four”

how precious is he, steeling himself to see his father’s slashed face

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

apparently Penny’s surveillance video has some sort of infrared lighting quality

I like how Penny specifies that Jughead is not to raise his voice to her, a classic scarier-than-violence threat

is this why FP was so freaked that Jughead would owe her? not because she’s naturally treacherous to everyone, but because he knows she wants recompense for his betrayal? FP, you’re awesome start to finish

Jughead has not done like a SINGLE THING WRONG this entire time that hasn’t been at the behest of him trying to FIX everything single thing that his father set him up for, dog

I do not deserve a whole segment dedicated to Josie and her white manicure, yet here I am!

Josie and the janitor have an understanding, because people who stick around school after hours are usually slightly strange and have to stick together

“I don’t need a bodyguard! I’m not Whitney. Yet.”

Certified pedigree: Mayor McCoy is another Scary Riverdale Mom, but I’d say she’s the least scary of them WRT her daughter (not the southsiders, although jury’s still out on how much of that is Alice’s fault)

Josie’s vocal polyps swell when she’s stressed

her denim one-piece? only you, Josie

Cheryl’s hair: Classic Disney princess hair this episode. Classic Cheryl. a Classic

Cheryl sums up Josie’s guilt as being about “sinning” which means therefore the Black Hood may notice, as opposed to something like “You feel like you’re betraying your friends,” which would be the human response

Chuck Clayton is thoroughly charming throughout. if you just watched him this episode, you’d be like, How bad could he really have been?

he came prepared with the knowledge that Josie “loves her cheese fries”

Chuck’s leather jacket is very nice. all the boys should just be wearing leather jackets

Josie is partaking of a “eucalyptus steam”

“Nick St. Creature”

Cheryl’s measured response to Josie calling her controlling was perfect. she says she’ll never be able to “repay” her “debt,” because Cheryl is ALL ABOUT tit-for-tat, emotional burdens handled via business deals, paying off favors, clearing her side of the column

I also like her Blossom pun

The 2001 Josie and the Pussycats movie was a masterpiece: VALERIE! MELODY! VALERIE’S SWEATER! MELODY’S SKIRT! VALERIE’S CURLS! MELODY’S AFRO! “WOMEN ARE SUPPOSED TO TREAT EACH OTHER BETTER THAN THIS.” “PRIDE COMETH BEFORE THE FALL.”

Fwoopy hair is the best hair: Melody is not happy but she is the goddess of my life and I hope she can sense that from this distance

why IS Josie doing the solo thing? she did claw them in the back!

ooh, he’s smooth. he’s smooth with the Pop’s thing. Chuck did that

Josie’s “YEAH MHM” nod when Chuck says he “doesn’t have the greatest track record” and rolls her eyes at him “going to church”

“Why? To objectify models?”

he wants to draw comics, because he is a creative? Chuck and Jughead and their leather jackets would have a great time at the library together, after they make up (with hugs)

did I say Archie looked good in the pink light? fucking Chuck and Josie look phenomenal

Pulp Fiction diner dancing!

I’ve seen Brick like thirty times: the two of them synchronized jitterbugging together, I did not have the patience to Google the name of the dance, like fully won me over. is Chuck good now? I’m fucking on Chuck’s list now. like is that all it took for me? I am a weak bitch

“YOU’RE A DAMNED FOOL.”

stay strong, Chuck! don’t fuck this up!

is Mayor McCoy lying on the spot about her hate mail mentioning Josie? just to scare her into compliance?

“Taking a few art classes does not a saint make.”

Cheryl’s sheaths: Cheryl’s wearing huge thick ankle-strap platforms again with a VERY leggy romper

okay shut up because Cheryl actually says “What’s in the box?” and Brad Pitt felt a little bit of his life force drain from his body

Gay.: What up with Cheryl’s game here? was she preemptively putting things in Josie’s locker on the off-chance she would need to get a rival presence out of Josie’s life? I would like a reason, but I don’t need one, because Cheryl is so beyond my mind to comprehend I take solace simply in basking in her wake. like, she found a pig’s heart? of course she did. of course you did, Cheryl

Cheryl’s a chaos angel from hell: “For all we know, he’s the one sending your mom those letters, too” is SUCH an overreach if Josie had had time to think about it for two seconds, but she does not have such two seconds, thus it is a master move by Cheryl Blossom

Chuck’s puppy eyes

Josie knows what she diiiiiiiiid!

THEY GOT ME FOR THE SECOND TIME! GODDAMMIT!

nicely specific throat-slashing, right in the polyps

I’m writing a scene where it’s gay.: Cheryl is listening to Josie sing as she draws, in the greatest reveal in television history (at least since “You’ve done a bad thing, Daddy,” which feels like it happened fifty-eight years ago) (is this actually gay? am I being #blessed with Gothic lesbian villainy?)

Every triangle has three corners, every triangle has three sides: Betty and Jughead literally sleeping together I WOULD ASSUME means they’re having sex except I’m like 0-4 on this stuff, I’m not taking anything as a given

Best costume bit: Betty’s flower decal sweater

VERONICA: How’s he been dealing with it? BETTY: WHAT’S HE BEEN DOING?

Veronica’s tiny poofy magenta skirt and EXTREMELY high heels

“Poor Kevin. He’s like a character in a lost Tennessee Williams play.” (Archie does not know Tennessee Williams)

Sheriff Keller is REMARKABLY forthcoming, in that I think he assumes Betty is going to dig around until she’s found this stuff out anyway, so he may as well show her the ACTUAL EVIDENCE PHOTOS now

Kevin is a cashmere-besweatered angel who plays RPG’s and drinks milk

dare I spy a Tarantino split-screen?

The female gaze: Tom Keller is jacked and this just complicates everything

the extent to which Veronica can be read as absolutely hitting on him while actually prying him for information while ostensibly offering comfort is a tribute to Camilla Mendes, James DeWille, 60,000 years of human speech

the animal targets on the wall as like, art?

aw, Kev took the floor. honestly thought he might have a bunk bed for like, his bears

God bless jingle-jangle: can you imagine having it in your obituary that you were “a jingle-jangle addict”? can someone finagle this for mine? is this blog a legal document?

50 Shades of Betty: I love how off the rails, if you will, Betty is this episode. she’s lost the forest for the trees a bit and it’s GREAT. she’s such a fucking oddball. Lili Reinhart’s massive eyes are like laserbeams of manic certainty

Summer + Blair = Veronica: Veronica is the only person with sense this entire episode. like what would it have been like if it was Veronica and Jughead in the first part? and Archie seeing Josie get a pig’s heart! AND CHERYL IN SHERIFF KELLER’S MAN-SWEAT BASEMENT

it appears the singing bass salesman made a stop at the Kellers’ after he hit up FP Jones

Please protect Betty: Betty’s expression of defiant stoicism throughout her father’s apology on her behalf and Keller explaining himself even further

“Where-oh-where do you think you’re going, Sheriff?” TO LIVE HIS LIFE, BETTY?

he is wearing a very Black Hood outfit of the leather jacket (!) over a flannel with jeans

love the split-second shot of the camera flash

Veronica was rich: of course Veronica’s in like thigh-high boots or whatever

OOOOOOOOHHH HE’S DOING THAAAAAAAT WITH HEEEERRRRRRR!

Veronica was 1) correct and 2) says “broment”

Pop keeps delicate teacups around for “fancy” orders

Cheryl’s structured red coat!

can you believe Jughead left BEFORE Pop got that phone call?

THE RECKONING, Y’ALL, IT’S HERE! MAYBE ONE SINGLE MORE PERSON WILL DIE!

NEXT WEEK TWENTY HOURS FROM NOW: Cheryl makes FP clean up a milkshake, and I enjoy this very special purchase