#I need one of those town map kids rugs

[patchworkghost]

:3 <---- Is Daydreaming about how fucked up my and my BFs dream house could look do to our differing aesthetics and both of us being crafters

[feysandfeels]

Okay fair enough! I agree that Sarah’s juxtaposition of an abusive vs a healthy relationship is top notch. I was completely mind blown to realize that tamlin wasn’t meant to be the main love interest. And rhysands confession of love, him telling the whole story from his POV when they’re in the cabin just makes me cry every time. I definitely do love a lot of aspects of her writing.

I gotta ask you about one more thing tho: I felt like in the novellas both rhysands and feyres characters got kinda butchered. I think it was completely out of character for them to want a child so soon and to move to a bigger palace. Also rhysands lying about the risk of feyres pregnancy and his treatment of nesta (who did the only right thing imo) was extremely out of character and definitely abusive. I sincerely hope this isn’t swiped under the rug but i think I’ll be disappointed since the characters seem to be ok with all of it. What do you think about the whole thing?

Oh boy ACOFAS is just *high pitched mmmm*. It's just another Christmas Special and unless you are Downton Abbey Christmas Specials are rarely the highlight of the show. Like I love it for the vibes and Mor is terrible at presents and Rhysand just got her a house and Cassian and Feyre got drunk decorating and look at me painting. It was literally for the xmas vibes and the hot chocolate. And well if you have the means to buy a bigger house and you want the bigger house and it suits your needs, why not buy the bigger house you know? Although I deeply loved the town house.

The only thing I really disliked of ACOSF was how Feyre mocked Lucien's friends. Baby that was uncool.

Regarding the pregnancy thing that is the one aspect about Feysand's story that I am still oscillating. On the one hand the whole novella Feyre is talking to this woman who just lost her husband and I think that, paired with her loosing Rhys and the repercussions of the war make her change her stance on motherhood. So that makes sense, the change of mentality from that moment in MAF when she says she does not want kids now to FAS when she says she's open to start trying is completely mapped and coherent with Feyre. Rhys always wanted babies if she was down for it. When you experience so much loss and you get reminded of that trauma, it does not seem out of place to not take anything for granted and start exploring options now rather than wait for a "later" that will never come.

On the other hand I am extrapolating my current situation to this character and that makes me feel is too soon and she is too young. Like I am taking her situation out of her fantasy context it is in, and the very specific social and historical context these stories take place in and then applying it to my own 21st non fantasy one and that makes me say HONEY NO YOU ARE TOO YOUNG.

My indisposition towards Feyre's motherhood comes also from this deep rooted patriarchal view of motherhood that I am still untangling from that conveys motherhood as the moment the life of the woman shifts completely and everything becomes *her kid*. In other words, the woman who was before ceases to exist only to become a mother, her plans, her dreams, her hopes get put on hold for the sake of the child. I am tired of the discourse that one stops being oneself only to become the mother of someone else. While I know that even though becoming a mother those demand a big adjustment in anyone's life I feel people demand more adjustment from the woman than the man. I have talked about this to some of my friends who already have kids and they constantly tell me that despite the big adjustment they still feel they are living their lives and having aspirations that are just their own (and working towards those). My fear of motherhood comes from not knowing how one could effectively balance ones own ambitions and taking care of the baby.

This fear that they use this archaical notion of motherhood when writing Feyre's mothering journey is what makes me nervous of it. I understand that Feyre as the main main character is done, she will become a supporting role in the next stories and I am okay with that, but I do not want that on top of that they are sidelining her further because #SomeoneHasToStayHomeAndTakeCareOfNyx. I don't want the main battle happening against Koshei or the asteri or whoever is the big baddie, and everyone and their mothers are there but Feyre isn't because she had to stay behind for Nyx. This is my fear with this narrative.

Admittedly this is something I did not enjoy in ACOSF, that for the most part, what I got to know of my baby's journey was through Rhys. I was like I love you Rhys but if we could spend some of your page time with Feyre instead that would be amazing. I felt that kind of shifted towards the end of the book so all good.

Now, in regards to the way Rhysand behaved in ACOSF. Do I support it? No. Do I understand it? Yes, I kind of do. I like to explain his behavior as a "his logic was off but his heart was in the right place". Initially, I was quite mad at him, but him keeping this secret seemed more out of desperation, fear, frustration and guilt with the awfulness of it than with him wanting to control Feyre. He reverted to his "I will carry every burden because I do not want to ruin life for anyone else" attitude out of fear, but I think we can all tell that he was mortified and wanted to tell her as soon as he found the solution. He wanted to present her a solution and not a death sentence.

Talking with said friends who are mothers now, some of them were like "no actually I would prefer not knowing and if my partner knows and doesn't tell me because he hasn't found a solution, I prefer it that way" because they wouldn't want to ruin or be in perpetual fear throughout their pregnancy. That helped me see his actions in a more forgiving light.

It made me mad towards him however that he told everyone but Feyre, like even Helion knew... and that was a big no. It's just tactless. The same goes for everyone in the IC. Besties be better and call Rhysand out or go tell her.

I also do not think this will be swiped under the rug. Here I think is the connect the dots thing I mentioned. With sjm not everything happens visible on page but that doesn't mean it is not happening, which to me breathes live into the story. We know how Feyre is we know how she will feel about this... we know she whooped Rhys' ass for doing this and I wouldn't be surprised if he slept on the couch for some nights after. I do not need to see this on page because from the knowledge sjm has given me of her characters I know it happened. I would have loved to see it on page because I love drama. I'm still hopping blondie will release those Feysand chapters she had to cut out of ACOSF. You bet the fight is in those babies.

Nesta telling Feyre was not correct imo because she told her to hurt her because up until that moment she had been perfectly content keeping this secret from her. It was only when she knew she could hurt Feyre as she was hurting that she told her. Personally this nullifies whatever good Nesta's actions might have had. Had she told her before she got mad or as soon as she found out I would have been like "yes Nesta you did excellent my darling".

Finally, regarding Nesta-Rhys, I think Rhys made it perfectly clear on previous books why he wasn't vibing with Nesta so it did not seem out of character the way he treated her in ACOSF. I am glad he is making an effort now. But this goes both ways, Nesta also disliked Rhys and thus the Rhys we were presented in her book was not the Rhys we see from Feyre's perspective who is his mate. Nesta was not going to spend five pages going on how his sass made his eyes deepened with desire and skin glows brighter because of the magnificent intelligent compassionate creature he is. Nesta was going to be like "mmmmm cool leader, not even half as awesome as he thinks he is in person".

The way why these two did not vibe is an interesting one that speaks of their similarities and how they might see certain aspects of themselves that they do not find that amenable in the other one. It could also be a case of they are too similar so they will clash.... like my parents were hahahaha but yeah, I love when the discussion between their relationship dwells into that and not the "well he was mean" and the "well she was a bitch" one. Both had moments where they treated the other poorly, but it should go beyond that when talking about them because when you boil it down they do have many things in common that are presented differently but at their core are the same.

[starrynite7114]

snapshots: fostering II

A/N: Good morning beautiful people! I posted in a previous post regarding why I haven’t update, but basically, I got COVID and it was just not a fun time. 

I am back with an update! This one took some time since I could hardly concentrate while i was out. But I finally have an update. These are the following updates I plan on posting in no specific order.

EZ request

Lake Part Two

Sex Guru Angel

Everything is you: part 12

Another EZ update

Rio request

Two Daddy Angel request: Snuggling and Trip to the aquarium 

That’s my plan before going back to school at the end of the month. Given, I may sneak in a few things in between those things I have mentioned above. 

Prior to me getting sick, I turned off anon, but I have turned it on again. Hopefully New Year, no hate? Regardless, my inbox is open!

Enjoy the update! Love you all!

Shoutout: To my better half, @angelreyesgirl, thank you for helping me map out the rest of the fostering chapters. And thank you for just being fucking you. I LOVE YOU, even though you put me through emotional turmoil with our shows, especially last night. lol 

Groupchat for updates! Please join since the tags could be a bit iffy at times!

If you would like to be added to the tag list, please let me know! My tag list is a little messy, but please let me know if you want to be added!

Masterlist

Snapshots

Word count: 4786

Warnings: Fluff, Infertility, a smidge of angst

CREDIT TO THE ORIGINAL GIF MAKER

“You did tell Angel right?” Gilly helped you bring in the crib his cousin had graciously let you borrow into your home. 

You looked at Gilly as you held the six month old in your arms, who was comfortably sleeping. You and Angel had discussed the possibility of fostering, but there was no final decision that was made. The agency called you and it was an emergency after the baby was brought to an emergency room last night by his mother and was taken away since the mother had tested positive for amphetamines. Since it was an emergent situation, the social worker begged you to take the kid for a few days while they got him situated. You figured it would be a good start for you and Angel was out of town due to an extended run up north.

“It’s just for a few days.” 

Gilly groaned, placing the crib in your room. “That literally did not answer my question, yet it fucking answered my question.” He shook his head. “You have to tell Angel. There’s no guarantee the kid is going to be gone by the time he comes back and what if they head back early?”

“Eva said three days tops. And Angel literally told me they won’t be back till the weekend. The baby will be situated with a foster family by then.” 

And somehow, Gilly didn’t believe that. 

Gilly helped you set up the crib and buy a few things for the baby such as snacks, formula, diapers, and wipes. He watched as you settled on the couch with the baby boy.

“What was the name of the kid again?” Gilly questioned as he settled on the arm chair. 

“Believe it or not, it’s Angelo.” You chuckled. Looking down at the baby in your arms, your heart swelled. It further cemented that you wanted to try this whole fostering thing, to see foster children while they wait for their forever homes. Though, you know it would be difficult, it was a first step. You knew that you and Angel weren’t exactly ready to adopt yet, so you opted to be an emergency foster parent when the need arose. You just didn’t expect it to happen as quickly as it did. 

“Oh man, you’re not going to be able to part from this one.” Gilly saw the way your eyes marveled at the baby in your arms. The way you were holding the child, smiling at every little movement. The baby looked incredibly comfortable in your arms, smiling whenever you smiled at him. Angelo would laugh this hearty laugh when you would make faces at him.

Ares entered the living room, taking his usual spot beside you. He eyed the baby curiously and looked up at Gilly, before looking back down at the baby.

“Wow, now it’s going to be Angel and Ares fighting the baby for your attention.”

“No it won’t because the baby isn’t staying long.” 

“Come on Y/N, you honestly believe you’re going to be able to give Angelo back knowing his mother is a drug addict.” Gilly could just see the wheels turn in your head, your heart clenching at the idea of having to give back Angelo to such an unstable home. 

“Look, stop, I can give Angelo back, regardless of his mother’s choices, I heard that she tried her best to care for Angelo.” You were thankful that Angelo didn’t appear to be harmed by whatever his mother chose to do in her life. 

“She’s been getting by with luck. But you should tell Angel so he doesn’t freak out when he comes home and you have a baby.” 

“Guessing keeping this a secret is out of the question?” You gave him a sheepish smile.

“Oh no, absolutely not. This is too big for you to keep to yourself.”

But you did keep it to yourself. 

And much like Gilly predicted, baby Angelo was still with you Saturday morning and Angel walked in your shared home on Saturday afternoon, doing a double take when he saw Angelo laying his head on the half circle nursing pillow with Ares laying down against the pillow, providing some sort of support as you made faces at him, blowing raspberries on his tummy. 

“What the fuck is this?” Angel knew of your intent to do fostering. You completed the classes two weeks ago, but he didn’t think it would be this quick. And he definitely didn’t expect to walk in and have a baby in his living room. And he definitely didn’t expect the dread at the pit of his stomach, feeling defeated when it came to his hope of you two conceiving your own child. He didn’t have a problem with adoption, if that’s what the cards had for you two, he didn’t mind. But being faced with the decision that you seemingly made on your own, it slightly irritated him. He felt like you were giving up without even trying.  

“Babe!” You stood up, smiling at your boyfriend. Ares lifted his head before jumping down the couch. He walked over to Angel and nuzzled his cheek against Angel’s leg. 

“Oh no, even the fucking dog is trying to sweet talk me. You’re both in fucking trouble. Baby, what the fuck?” Angel’s eyes couldn’t part from the baby on the couch. 

“I know, I know, this looks bad, but it was an emergency.”

“An emergency? Like last night? Cause I know you would have told me if you emergently had to foster a baby.” Angel walked closer as if the baby wasn’t real, that if he moved closer, it would all be an illusion. Because he knew for a fact that you would tell him something as enormous as this.

You sighed. “Try three days.”

“Three days?!” Angel gave you an incredulous look, his higher octave of tone scaring Angelo. The baby began to cry, causing you to frown. You picked up Angelo, trying your best to comfort the baby. “Y/N, this is, this is unacceptable. How can you not have told me you were fostering a baby?”

“He was supposed to be gone before you came back.” It was a terrible reason, you could attest to that, but it was all you had. 

“I don’t give a fuck, this is our home. You’re bringing in a baby into our home. I have the right to know these things. This isn’t a fucking puppy or a toy. You can’t just bring the baby in and bring it back out as if it’s nothing.” Angel didn’t think you thought of this as a game, but he knew how simple you thought things through at time. For you, just like your computer software, you make the software, test it out and hand it over to the company that requested the said software. You came to help the company from time to time, otherwise, it was no longer your headache. And that was how Angel saw your thought process was when it came to fostering. He loves you, but this was the reason he was apprehensive about the idea of fostering. Not only would you have a difficult time parting with the child when the time came, but the way you handled it wasn’t ideal. This wasn’t a toy baby for one of those subjects in high school and it wasn’t a dog that could charm their way to people’s hearts. 

This was another human life. 

And the way you handled the whole thing, it showed Angel that fostering was definitely not right, at least not right now. 

“I know he isn’t a toy or a puppy. Don’t insult my intelligence.”

“Then don’t insult mine. We’re a fucking team. Regardless if the baby was going to be here for an hour or a year, you should tell me. This is why we shouldn’t foster a child, you can’t even communicate to me that we’re fostering one.” Angel shook his head. “You’re not even going to try for a baby?”

His words pierced through your heart and you could tell Angel immediately regretted his words. 

“I’m sorry, did you say, not try for a baby?” You scoffed. “That’s rich. You’re all talk about being okay with not having your own biological child, but now, fostering a child is staring us right in the face and the only thing you can do is give me flack for bringing a child in our home.”

“I am okay with not having my own biological child, but I would at least like for us to try and explore every possible fucking option. It’s like you got one opinion and shut down. Why can’t we get a second opinion?” Angel did not want to be arguing with you. This was not how he saw his day going. He wanted to get home so he could take a nap, take you out on a nice dinner and make love to you till Sunday afternoon. Now, you two were arguing and Angel knew it wasn’t going to be swept under the rug any time soon. “I meant what I said, I want to be with you regardless if you can have a baby or not, but again, one opinion you shut down. You’re an IT specialist, you look for every way to fix a fucking problem with a software, but with your own life, you got one solution and that’s it, you gave up.”

The tears that welled up in your eyes made you look away from Angel as you rocked Angelo in your arms. You didn’t just look at one solution, you got a second opinion in Arizona and the doctor more or less told you the same thing. Rafael gave you the number of his cousin who saw a specialist in LA, but after having two opinions basically stating the same facts, it was hard to hear over and over again that couldn’t have a child. 

“You know, you can be a real asshole at times.” You walked away from Angel, Ares following suit as you closed the door, choosing not to slam it since Angelo finally calmed down. 

“Fuck!” 

=================

You were laying on the bed, Ares at your feet and Angelo sleeping soundly right beside you. You had a long body pillow on his one side and you on the other. The tears have subsided, but you were still quite upset at Angel. You understood why he was upset, you should have told him about the baby, there was no rhyme or reason as to why you didn’t. You sniffled, wiping your nose as you had your hand on Angelo’s little tummy, watching him as he slept. A new batch of tears formed in your eyes as reality set in that you could never truly have this, a child created by you and Angel. A child with Angel’s smile and beautiful brown eyes. A child with a mixture of your personalities. 

It upset you that you couldn’t give that to Angel. The fact he assumed that you didn’t look at other options hurt you, but, it’s not like you told him either. 

You felt Ares rest his head on your calf, his warmth bringing some comfort to you. Hearing the door open, you closed your eyes, not ready for another showdown with Angel. You heard him sigh as he closed the door. You weren’t certain if he walked back out or was inside the room, but you kept your eyes closed.

The bed dipped under his weight. You felt him rest his hand above yours that was on Angelo’s tummy. 

“I wish you knew just how much I love you. Seeing you with a baby is painful because I know you’re hurting more than anyone else about your current predicament. It’s the reason why I don’t want us to foster, at least not yet. Knowing you can’t have a child, I know it’s killing you and I’m just trying to protect you.” You felt Angel softly squeezed your hand. “You’re the love of my life, if I can protect you from the world I would.”

You weren’t sure what you did to deserve Angel’s love, but hearing him say those words, it made your heart swell.

You felt him move, most likely getting in a more comfortable position. 

“What are we going to do with you little man?” You heard Angel sigh. 

Angel heard the faint cries at first and he was going back to sleep when he realized it was the baby. He cracked an eye open and saw Angelo on his belly, his face scrunched up, small cries coming from his lips. Ares lifted his head and was about to stand up when Angel gestured for him to stay down. 

“Hey papa’s, you doing okay?” Angel had his fair share of babysitting jobs when he was younger so he knew how to care for a baby, but this was different. This baby was technically under your care and it wasn’t someone he could give back at the end of the day. It was one of the things he feared too. You two didn’t know what kind of baby or kid you would end up with. What if they ended up becoming serial killers?

Angel knew it was ridiculous, but he thought of your safety, that was his main priority. 

Angel picked up Angelo, holding the baby in his arms. He stood up, hoping he could rock Angelo back to sleep, but the cries came before he could do anything. Moving towards the kitchen, he hoped you prepared bottles for the baby since he didn’t exactly know how much formula to use or the ratio with water and such. Thankfully there was a bottle. He warmed up the bottle and checked the temperature. Once it was good, he placed the nipple at Angelo’s mouth which he gladly sucked on. Angel chuckled, making his way over to the couch to sit down. Ares joined him, resting his head on Angelo’s legs.

“At least you adjusted well to him.” Angel sighed, watching as Angelo greedily drank the milk. “Man, you’re hungry.” Ares adjusted himself and watched Angelo drinking his milk. “Don’t get used to him, we can’t keep him.” Ares looked over at Angel and for once, Angel saw this demon dog of yours give him the puppy dog eyes. “That only works on your mom, not on me, nope.” He looked down at Angelo and he assisted him by holding the bottle for him. “Wonder why she had to take you in so suddenly.”

When Angelo finished his bottle, Angel burped him, moving to sit back down. Angelo reached for the necklace around Angel’s neck that rested on his chest. Angel watched as the infant became enamored with the necklace, playing with it, slightly tugging on it. He laughed, the sound slightly startling Angelo before a smile broke out on his own face. Angel couldn’t believe he was thinking it, but all he wanted was to keep that smile on this precious baby boy.

“Oh no,” Angel groaned. 

Ares sat up, pawing at Angelo and Angel petted him under his neck, and just shook his head. 

“I think he’s cute too, but we can’t keep him.” Ares scoffed and turned away from Angel, laying down. “You can throw a tantrum all you want, but we’re not keeping the baby.” Angel shook his head. “I have no idea what she got in her head, but we can’t keep you little man.”

Angelo snuggled his face against Angel’s shirt, the gesture making Angel’s heart melt further. As much as he wanted to keep Angelo, he didn’t know how good of an idea that was. You two were still working on your relationship and he still wanted to try to get a second opinion for what was going on. He had faith that miracles could occur, but as he said, he didn’t mind if you two ended up adopting. But he wanted to at least try, to at least put the effort of having a child. He saved up money and he was certain your medical insurance would help with it. 

=================

Before you knew it, sleep overtook you and when you awoke it was due to Angel waking you up.

“Baby,” Angel shook you awake, your eyes blinking adjusting to the light. “We need to get more diapers. What size are his diapers?”

You yawned and pointed at your closet. “He has more in there.”

Angel nodded his head and went inside the closet, taking a diaper before laying Angelo right next to you. Sitting up, you looked down at him and looked over at Angel. 

“I didn’t hear him cry.” You commented.

“Yeah, I know, he started getting fussy so I picked him up.” Angel cooed at Angelo as he picked him up. “What’s his name?”

“Angelo.”

“No shit,” Angel smiled. 

“Right?” You returned his smile. Watching Angel hold Angelo, it made you tear up all over again. You wanted this so badly for Angel, for Angel to have his own child and seeing this, it made you happy yet, it saddened you. Maybe you should call the doctor in LA just to see if the third time’s the charm. 

He looked up at you and sighed. “I hate fighting with you.”

“Me too.” You frowned. “I’m sorry for not communicating it to you that Angelo was here. I don’t even know what I was thinking.”

“Just make sure it doesn’t happen again. You can’t just drop a baby on us. We have to discuss this, we’ve always been a team, that hasn’t changed.” Angel reminded you.

“I know,” you crawled over to him and Angel held you with his free arm, pulling you against him. “I think the excitement of having him, it just threw me off and I guess I was being a little selfish. And maybe some part of me wanted to surprise you.”

“Consider me surprised querida.” Angel kissed you. Pulling away, he looked down at Angelo, who was just looking at you two then back at you. “Fuck, I’m going to get used to this and it’s going to suck when he leaves. What’s his story?”

You proceeded to tell Angel the story of how you gained emergency custody of Angelo. You saw how Angel’s eyes softened and the anger that also appeared.

“That’s messed up. How can,” Angel paused and shook his head. “We can’t give him back to her.” Angel’s overprotectiveness has come out and you knew that letting go of Angelo was going to be difficult on you both. 

“Angel, babe, I agree, but she still has custody.” You had temporary custody of Angelo, once things settled with his mother, they would most likely give him back to her. You truly hoped the report was right and that his mother just recently relapsed and was working on getting better, but addiction was hard to kick. 

“She’s an unfit mother.” Angel spat out. He shouldn’t be preaching, he killed people and was part of a heroin trade, but he would never endanger a child.

“Babe, we don’t know that.”

“Don’t know that?” Angel scoffed. “She continued to do drugs with her child in the same home as her, that’s unforgivable.” 

You loved how passionate Angel felt about Angelo. He’s only known him for a few hours and he loved the little guy already. It made you smile and you hugged Angel once again, which surprised him. He sighed and kissed the top of your head, his attention back on Angelo.

“I was so worried that you couldn’t give him back, but I think it’s going to be me.” Angel chuckled. “How come you still have him?”

“Thanksgiving is next week, guess people aren’t in a rush to handle the case.” You shrugged. “We have to talk about the possibility of keeping Angelo. It’s a long shot, I doubt his mother would give up custody, but maybe we should discuss it in case it is presented to us.” 

“I’m in.”

Angel’s reply surprised you. It’s not that you didn’t think Angel was going to be on board, but you two just argued earlier about having biological children and now, he was on board with keeping Angelo.

“What?” You pulled away from him, choosing to sit on the bed. Ares laid beside you, laying his head on your thigh. “We literally just argued about having biological children, and now you want to keep him?”

“I never said I didn’t want to adopt a child with you. I’m on board with whatever you want mami, you know this. But I just want you to at least consider getting a second opinion.” Angel began to rock Angelo back and forth, the baby falling asleep in his arms rather easily. Placing Angelo in his crib, Angel leaned on the wall beside his crib. “I want everything with you. I meant what I said when I told you I was okay with not having children of our own, but I want you to at least explore every fucking option.”

“You don’t think I did that?”

“I don’t know baby, did you?” 

“I got a second opinion in Arizona and the doctor basically told me the same thing. I wanted to come back to you Angel, but if I came back, I wanted us to have an option to have a child together.” You confessed. “When you came for me, I knew it was a matter of time before you broke down through my walls and I was back in your arms. But before I came back, I wanted for us to know our options. So I got the second opinion and it still wasn’t great news.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I don’t know, I was already disappointed that we can’t have kids and the way you reacted the first time frightened me. I figured you didn’t want to hear another disappointing fact about me.” You were mostly disappointed in yourself. You knew it wasn’t something you could control, but knowing you couldn’t have a family in the traditional sense, it hurt. 

Angel moved to kneel in front of you, taking your hands that were on your lap. “From now on, we talk about everything, regardless of disappointment or whatever. I love you. Let me be your support system. I know you’re used to counting on yourself, but it doesn’t have to be that way. It’s been us against the world since we were thirteen fucking years old and that hasn’t changed. Regardless of what’s occurred the last six months, that hasn’t changed. You’re my girl and I’m yours.” 

You nodded your head, wiping your tears away. “There’s a third option Rafael told me about. It’s in LA.”

“Okay, make an appointment, we’ll go.” Angel rested his arms on your lap, his hands holding your hips. 

“Angel, maybe we should wait till after the holidays, I don’t know if I really want such sad news during the holidays.”

“Nope, let’s do it, regardless of the results, I’m here for you. We’ll face it together. Make the appointment for next week and we’ll handle this.” Angel cupped your face, bringing your lips to his. 

“I just don’t want you to be disappointed. Maybe we should just give it time.”

“Nope, this is your defense mechanism, putting shit off. Fuck no baby, let’s meet with the doctor and we’ll go from there.” 

“What if it’s the same results? That’s what’s killing me Angel.”

“Then we’ll think of other ways.” He pursed his lips. “I know it’s hard, but don’t you want to explore every option so we can at least look back on this twenty years from now and know we did everything we could to have children?”

Angel got you there. You wanted to live life with no regrets and he was right. When you looked back on this moment years from now, you want to know you tried every option.

“I understand the fear of disappointment, but there is no disappointment if we know we tried every viable option that we had.”

“When did you get so wise?” 

Angel chuckled. “Coco is rubbing off on me.” He kissed you again, wrapping his arms around you. 

“I’ll make the appointment.” 

“Good, just let me know when and we can make a day out of it. I can visit my tio and tia while we’re there.” 

You smiled, nodding your head at his suggestion. You picked up your phone and noticed a missed call from Eva. Before you could even call her back, the doorbell rang. Angel made his way to the front door to answer the door. You followed after him and found Eva with her usual purse and folders in arms. 

“Hey Eva!” You greeted. “I was just about to return your call, we had a nap.”

Eva chuckled. “You’re fine, I figured you were napping or occupied with a seven month old child.” 

“This is my boyfriend, Angel.” You introduced the two finally since you usually just mentioned them to one another. 

“Very nice to finally meet you Angel.” Eva shook Angel’s outstretched hand.

“Likewise.” 

Eva was in her mid-forties, her hair style reminded you of a 50’s housewife. It fit her face well and she was honestly one of the kindest people you knew.

“It’s five in the afternoon on a Saturday, you’re still working?” Angel commented as you all sat down in the living room. 

“Yes well work never stops.” Eva shrugged with a content smile on her face. You knew Eva was a workaholic. Many social workers have gotten a bad reputation these past few years, but Eva always seemed so genuine to you. “But, I want to make this visit quick and hopefully it’ll work out for all of us.”

“Sure, what’s going on?” You were seated beside Angel, your hand in his.

“Angelo’s mother has given up custody of Angelo and I was wondering if you would be interested in fostering him till we can handle all the necessary paperwork.” Eva was hopeful. She saw how you quickly bonded with Angelo and the last few times she’s seen that occur, the child ended up being adopted by their foster parents. And if she was being honest, she was hoping this would be the case here. “Or if you’re interested, maybe you would like to adopt Angelo.” You were an ideal candidate. Regardless of your marital status, you had a steady, stable job and you also had a home and a good support system. 

You looked at Angel who squeezed your hand, placing a kiss on the back of it. “You already know how I feel.”

“We would love to adopt Angelo.” You said quickly, Eva laughing at your enthusiasm and clapped her hands together. 

“I knew you would, this is perfect. I’ll handle the paperwork, but I wouldn’t expect anything till after Thanksgiving. Honestly, I do not foresee any trouble with the proceedings, especially since his mother gave up custody of Angelo to the state.” Eva stood up. “I will keep in touch, but have a very happy thanksgiving and I will speak to you both after next week.”

“Yeah, of course.” You were in disbelief how quickly everything was happening, but it made you feel as if it was meant to be, that everything was just simply falling into place. You and Angel said your goodbyes to Eva and as soon as the front door was closed and locked by Angel, you ran over to him.

Angel caught you, your legs and arms wrapping around him. Your lips were on his, one of Angel’s arms rested around you and his hand cupped your face. Pulling away, you rested your forehead against Angel’s.

“Fuck, baby, this is so quick.” You wanted to scream in joy, but Angelo was taking a nap. You felt Ares nudging your back, wanting to join the festivities. Going back on the ground, you hugged Ares, happy that you got to keep Angelo after all.

“It’s just things falling into place baby.” Angel sat on the floor next to you, Ares coming to Angel and giving him kisses. 

“We have a baby.” You breathed out. You rested your head on Angel’s shoulders. “Holy shit, we’re parents.”

Angel laughed. “You’re really stuck with me now. Cause if you even try to leave, I’ll take our kid and the dog.”

You laughed along with Angel. The appointment for next week made you nervous, even though you weren’t sure if you would even be able to book an appointment. Regardless, whatever the outcome of next week was, you were happy that you had Angelo. 

You and Angel were building your family.

That was the most important thing to you. 

=================

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[minuteminx]

Revolutionary

[NEW FIC ALERT!!]

Pairing: Preston Garvey/ Female Sole Survivor

Summary: In the aftermath of personal tragedies, Preston and Charlie both seek to make a difference in the Commonwealth and those around them. They could never anticipate the impact that they will have on eachother in the process.

[AO3 Link]

Chapter One: Paul Revere

“You cannot buy the revolution. You cannot make the revolution. You can only be the revolution. It is in your spirit, or it is nowhere.” ― Ursula K. Le Guin, The Dispossessed

Qunicy Ruins, June 2288

When Preston was a kid, he’d sit with his dad on their tattered rug as the man picked lackadaisically at the strings of an ancient guitar.  He’d wax all sorts of poetic about the past, the times before the war, before the bombs fell, before everything was rads and raiders and running from bands of ferals.  It was that Great Commonwealth Myth of a pre-war paradise, of big ideals, and boundless opportunity.  A myth that one would hear refuted if they listened closely enough to grumbles from ghouls who’d managed to keep their sanity over the two centuries since the end of the world.

The myth was a lie, for sure, one Preston had clung to for most of his life.  But he couldn’t anymore, not as he stood staring at the massive pile of ashes that used to be his comrades and the settlers they attempted to protect.  The bastards who murdered all of those people were direct descendents from the monsters who made weapons with enough power to wipe entire regions off the map.  There was no paradise; it was just a prettier picture.

The Quincy settlement, if he could still call it that, looked a lot different since the last time he’d seen it, surrounded by junk fences and lined with barbed wire at the top.  Buildings were tagged with Gunner graffiti, and the streets were quiet as the mass grave that the settlement had turned out to be. It really didn’t make much sense.  Shouldn’t it have been some sort of bustling Gunner stronghold after Clint and his buddies went to all that trouble to claim it?

“I don’t like this,” Charlie remarked suddenly, her raspy voice a quick reminder that he wasn’t alone, hadn’t been alone for over eight months now.  He turned to face her, eyes flicking around the ruins to the seven other Minutemen who’d come along.  Millie was the only one who noticed him, and she gave him the least reassuring smile he’d ever seen.

“Neither do I,” he agreed as he returned his gaze to Charlie.  “Not one bit.”

“It wasn’t like this when I got away,” Millie added, glancing around the square, “I know that there had been mention of disagreements between Clint and the other bosses, probably because he has the leadership ability of a bloatfly.”

Preston smirked. “Now, Millie, I think that’s giving him too much credit.”

She laughed and opened her mouth to reply to him, but an explosion rang out instead as a launched projectile crashed into one of the buildings just ahead of them.  She eyed the area frantically before locking onto the rooftop of the church. “Shit. It’s Baker.”

“Baker?” He snapped his gaze up to the walkway, catching a glimpse of a figure clad in power armor and wielding a goddamned fat man.

“He’s one of the other bosses… and it looks like he found himself a new toy.”

Preston sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, running through the list of possible strategies in his head.  “We need to fall back,” he muttered under his breath decisively, then looked up to make the suggestion to Charlie, to the general, “We need to fall b--”

She’d already taken off toward the church, a pistol in either hand, without giving a single order to him or the others.  He wanted to drop everything and chase after her, to stop her from running directly into danger, just once. But someone had to give some kind of instruction before Baker launched a nuke directly on top of them.   He waved his hand over his head and back toward the gates, motioning for the others to head back out of the middle of town. “Fall back.  Head up to the walkways if you can.  We can’t win this from the ground.”

Millie remained where she stood as the others fled to safety.  “I’ll get these guys into position,” she stated, then nodded in the direction Charlie had run, “You go fetch your general.”

“But--” Another mini nuke exploded, in the distance this time, and his stomach lurched.  

“Go.”  She flicked her wrist in a shooing motion. “You’re not gonna be any use back here worried about her out there trying to pistol whip Baker to death.”

He snorted out a laugh despite the gravity of the situation, the image of the rail thin red-head successfully tackling him down, power armor and all, and smacking the butt of her favorite 10mm into his nose.  Honestly, he’d seen her get away with wilder things.  He tipped his hat at his long time friend, gave his musket a quick crank, and ran off after his wildcard general.

He faced little resistance on his way to the church, only a couple of Gunner conscripts crossed his path, and he was able to take them out easily.  It looked like a lot of their efforts were focused on Millie and the others at the gates and climbing up the walkways. It was for the best, but it didn’t make him worry any less for their safety.

When he finally reached the church, it was too quiet, especially for somewhere Charlie was supposed to be.  There was no gunfire, no talking, nothing.  Just silence.  Preston scanned the area, heart pounding uncomfortably in his chest.  After everything Charlie had been through, all she’d survived, she couldn’t be dead now, not while doing a favor for him, not with all that unfinished business between them. She couldn’t.

Several moments passed, and there were still no signs of life in the area.  He decided to head inside the church, figure out how to get up to the roof for a better view.  Just as he moved toward the door, a loud clank of metal sounded behind him and he spun on his heels, weapon readied.  

It was the traitor himself that he turned to face, Clint, in his hulking suit of stolen power armor, a militia hat perched disrespectfully atop his buzz cut head.  He still wore sunglasses that were so reflective that Preston could see his own furious face in the lenses. Clint let out an arrogant chuckle, and stomped up closer.

“Well, well, well,” he mocked, “What do we have here? Paul Revere himself?”

“Preston Garvey, Commonwealth Minutemen.”  He didn’t know why he felt the need to correct a man he intended to kill, but the words slipped out.

“I know who you are.  Read all about you in Ol’ Ezra’s holotapes.” Clint laughed again. “And the Minutemen don’t exist anymore.  I got rid of the last of ‘em, myself.

“You missed one,” Preston remarked, dryly.

“What? You? Ha!.” Clint shook his head. “And that merry band of farmers you marched in through the front gate with?  Kind of a rookie move, there, son.”

“ Don’t call me son,” Preston spat, venom filling his mouth.  

Before he could react, Clint’s armored fist slammed into his chest, knocking the wind from his lungs and sending him flying back against the rusty skeleton of an old car.  Preston’s head crashed against the metal, and pain pulsed out from the point of impact throughout his whole head.  His vision spun around him, creating a double of the man who towered over him.  He felt sick to his stomach, and couldn’t quite figure out how to get back to his feet or where his weapon went.  Darkness crept in at the corners of his vision.

“I hate mouthy punks,” Clint growled.

Preston attempted to speak, but couldn’t find words in the chaos of his head.  He mumbled something even he couldn’t interpret.

“Oh man,” Clint exclaimed, smirk twisting on his face, “You’re really making this easy, Garvey.  Can’t say you live up to Ezra’s praise. What in the goddamned wasteland made you think you could rebuild the Minutemen?  You can’t even take a punch.  Pathetic.”

As Clint spoke, Preston noticed a blur of movement behind the other man.  He knew his eyes must have been playing tricks on him because it looked as if the air vibrated like it sometimes did in highly irradiated areas.  Quincy wasn’t one of those places.  The only other thing it could be was a--

Just as he thought the word stealth boy , the wobble in the air dissipated, and Charlie stood no more than ten feet behind Clint.  She slowly raised a finger to her lips in a shushing motion, and readied her weapon to aim.  Preston couldn’t keep the relief washing over his face, mouth twitching at the corners. She was alive, and not only that, she’d come to save him once again. Mama Murphy really did hit the nail on the head all those months ago.

“Why are you smiling,” Clint asked abruptly, lifting his laser rifle, locking it straight in the direction of Preston’s chest.  “What’s so fucking funny, huh?”

“Nothing, man,” Preston managed, words slurring, “Nothing at all.”

At that moment, Charlie unleashed a terrifying barrage of shots into Clint’s armor, damaging the legs so severely that they locked in place, and Clint had to jump out.  “What the--” he began, and turned around, to face his attacker.  “You little bitch .”

He attempted to raise his weapon and aim at her, but before he could get there, she’d pulled her trigger.  Preston couldn’t make out where she’d shot Clint, but the man dropped his gun and fell to his knees, before falling to his face.  Charlie holstered her pistols, and stared down at the man she’d just killed, expression as flat as he’d ever seen it.

“I’m not a bitch,” she muttered, shaking her head before setting her gaze on Preston, worry knitting her brows as soon as their eyes met.  She rushed over to where he sat, up against the car he’d been thrown into, and knelt down, cupping his face with a gloved hand on either side and turning his head to the left and then the right, clearly examining him for injury.  She flipped a switch on her PipBoy, flashing a bright beam of light into each of his eyes.  He squinted and shook his head, causing her to giggle, but he could hear the tears and sniffling between laughs.  

“You’re okay,” she assured him, pressing an unexpected kiss to his forehead, “Looks like you might have a concussion, but you’re safe.  I’m here.”

“You’re really scary sometimes, you know that,” he stated, words still stumbling out of his mouth clumsily.  

She laughed nervously and glanced away, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.  “I’m sorry, I just… I’d just watched Clint knock you into this car, and he was about to kill you and I just--.”

“No,”  he corrected her, grin spreading across his face, “It’s kinda hot.”

She snorted and a tear rolled down her cheek, dripping off her chin.  “Jesus, you hit your head harder than I thought.”

“It’s still the truth,” he admitted weakly, vision closing in entirely.  The last thing he heard before he lost consciousness entirely, was her voice calling his name.  

“Preston?”

[valiancyvulnerability]

What It’s Like Being Gay in a Town Where It Isn’t Accepted

     I made the choice to come out publicly mid-March of 2020, after the COVID-19 pandemic left the majority of Illinois stuck in our homes for the safety of others. I thought this would be a good time for me to make my announcement as it was an opportunity to avoid facing any of my peers after the fact, and I also wanted to do so before I moved into my first year of college.

     If I’m being honest, it was something I had always feared as a child. Being an individual who tries too hard to please everyone and be liked, I knew it was something that wasn’t necessarily the most accepted where I lived. I live in a predominantly white and conservative area, and there is nothing wrong with that, but that is a vital piece of information to know as I explain myself in this piece of writing. I moved to my current town when I was in the first grade, and based off my interests, personality, and mannerisms, everyone immediately made their assumptions about me, so I quickly began to alter and adjust accordingly in order to keep the remarks at bay. Additionally, my mom worked in the school district, so in order to avoid being talked about since I already felt like I was in the public eye, I just wanted to blend in with the crowd as much as I could.

     The lying to myself and to everyone around me didn’t cease until I was already out of high school. The first three words that title this post are “What It’s Like”, so with that being said, I want to share specific experiences I have had growing up that have stuck with me, and are all contributors as to why I waited so long to come out. Being gay in a town where it isn’t accepted is:

Giving a sheet of paper that has “GAY” written in big letters to your Kindergarten teacher, asking what it meant and why a 16 year-old handed it to you on the bus

Being targeted by a group of first grade classmates at recess for being a gymnast, and that it’s a “gay sport for girls”

Being told in an elementary music class, with an unchanged voice, as all elementary schoolers have, that I sing like a girl and that it would make more sense to go sit with them if we sound the same anyways

Being twelve and intentionally coughed on by an eighth grader, followed by the kindest “Move out of my way, faggot”

Hearing boys on the other side of the locker room say they feel uncomfortable that they have to change around me

Being shoved into a gym locker without any clothes on

Hearing an upperclassman say they don’t want the “fat closeted kid” on his team in gym class

Being shown a photo of a skinned deer with a caption “I am going to cut you up”

Singing a solo for a school assembly with the choir and directly facing the front row of boys while they laugh

Being called out in class for “only wanting equal LGBTQ+ rights because I’m too scared to come out of the closet”

Having someone tell you, (”No offense”), “If you want my guy friends to like you, you just need to stop acting gay, because you do a little bit” and that “you dressed like a grandma today”

Being called a bloody tampon because you dyed your hair red

Being laughed at for what you’re wearing by a whole table of underclassman boys that turn around and watch you get a napkin before lunch

Having a group of boys from school make a (very condescending) point to all like a boy’s comment complimenting one of my pictures on social media

And this is the one that will stick with me more than any other one:

Being sent this message on an anonymous social media platform this year-- 

“You’re the biggest f***wad I know. Just come out as gay already because you’ve seen more girls get undressed simply because you’re friends with them. Your tattoo looks cool but that’s about it. You look like an emo girl trying not to cut her wrists”

My mother raised me on kindness. She raised me on lifting others up. She raised me on being there for others. The thing I struggled with the most is that I couldn’t get my mind wrapped around the fact that I tried my hardest to be kind to others, no matter how they treated me, and it felt like I just had disrespect and insults spat back at me. I found myself using the “not everyone is going to like you” phrase often, because there were many times where it felt like, truly, I was disliked by everyone.

My junior year of high school, I fell into an eating disorder, and consequently lost weight and started dressing differently to dodge any negative attention that I had been faced with previously. I started partying. Drinking every weekend. Hanging with people fueled by hate. The result was all I could have asked for. I was liked by my classmates. I was on Homecoming Court. Guys at my school willingly spoke to me. The only issue with all of that though is that there was no genuine part of Carson that was present. It was entirely phony.

Once I found a friend group I felt accepted in my senior year of high school, my world entirely changed. I gradually found myself and became more comfortable with who I was as a person and I no longer felt a need to pretend about anything. I had that sense of security, so I didn’t have to worry about the opinions of people that didn’t have anything to do with me. I knew who I was, and I was still going to be respectful and kind towards those who weren’t to me, because that’s all I can do.

With all that said, there are some things that can be done.

I understand if my way of life doesn’t completely align with your beliefs, and I completely respect that. However, if it doesn’t affect you directly, then there is no point, none at ALL, to make an individual feel lesser than you, feel isolated, or feel like an alien. I have always been Carson, and always will be.

I am not a parent so some may think my opinion is unjustified here, but as children we are taught certain principles and morals that shape the way we treat others. If a child is raised that they need to show kindness to everyone EXCEPT group ABC or group XYZ, then something is wrong there in my eyes. 

My teachers were always great about making everyone feel included and welcome in their classrooms. I do challenge the education system as a whole, though, to not shy away from conflict regarding homophobia. Many times it is brushed off to avoid “ruffling any feathers”, so to speak, but that is not a solution that I can find the least bit of validity in. By sitting back and letting mistreatment happen to avoid “taking a side”, unfortunately, you are doing nothing but taking the side of the oppressor.

As the youth is shifting towards a more vocal and diverse generation, it is important for this to be talked about. Your location on the map should not be a deciding factor in how you are going to be treated, especially if it’s something you live with that can not and will not change. There is so much negativity and mistreatment among children and adolescents that is swept under the rug, and there needs to be some sort of action taken to get the general attitude among the youth (and adults, too, for that matter) moving in a more positive direction.

Be kind to one another. Find common ground within your differences, and learn to respect them. Stay safe and healthy, as always, and I hope everyone is doing well.

And happy Pride Month.

[sharpen-jadescythe]

Why was Sharpen really naked that one time?

Sharpen decides to be naked again alone in his house and tempt fate. Ho boy...

Sharpen lay on his favorite bearskin rug, by the fire. Yes, it was funny when he did it before and Jiroki walked in on him. But this time, Sharpen just wanted to spoil himself.

The flames, the cozy shadows in the big living room done in leather and a couple hunting trophies on the wall… and him. Sharpen turned over, loving the feel of fur against his naked skin, had a sip of his hot chocolate and then went back to his book.

Reading while naked was one of his favorite things to do, and he didn’t know if he would ever tell anyone about it. Naked reading sort of dared something to happen, anything strange at all. There might be a knock on the door, dinner on the stove might start to burn, a pet might suddenly want to go outside. The ridiculous, awkward things that always happened when you stayed naked too long were fun to tempt fate with. Sharpen’s record for reading while naked was about… two hours? Before a certain someone appeared in his log cabin to surprise him.

The time before that, the fire had died down a lot. Then he fell asleep. And then, for a very strange reason, an incredibly sooty squirrel fell down the fire place and went rampant in his living room.

The time before the time Sharpen chased a squirrel around his house while naked, an um… neighbor lady came by asking for cup of sugar. Sharpen wasn’t supposed to have any neighbors close to his cabin that he rented specifically because it was in an isolated spot. But some industrious woman who spotted him while at the Winterspring village market—eventually, their odd conversation revealed as much, made a good guess about where he was renting since all the people up there were close knit and knew each other well, otherwise… And essentially his so-called ‘neighbor’ invited herself over to dinner. This happened two years ago.

And Sharpen did answer the door naked.

He laughed out loud, remembering that now.

Younger Sharpen was even more of an adorable himbo. He liked to think he’d matured somewhat, become a classier guy.

And then, Sharpen turned the page in his trashy pirate romance novel.

The men in those stories were ridiculous. They said all the best things, and also the worst things. They always had their shirts torn off somehow. He enjoyed having a mental inventory of all the fun ways one might lose one’s shirt in a battle, in a storm, or due to a calamitous stolen-cracker- parrot accident. That had helped with one of his performances, actually.

The women were only one way, which was disappointing. Bosoms were always called ‘bosoms’ and they were always ‘heaving’ or ‘surging’, like the ocean, supposedly. So then, why did none of the women roar? The ocean roared. His fantasy pirate captain girlfriend would swing down from a rope and scream her head off with this war cry into battle. That’s would be a good roar. And she’d defend him from the other annoying pirates on the ship who made fun of his ripped shorts and his cool hair, not being ‘manly’ enough for them—but hey, here comes a hot lady who likes me just for me and she’s about to punch you in the face so who’s not masculine enough now?

Sharpen wasn’t reading his book anymore. It was balanced in his lap, conveniently covering his crotch for the full body description...

The Night Elf man was completely comfortable with those big strong thighs opening and closing playfully as he knocked his knees together, dreaming. He folded one arm beneath his head, while the other mussed his cyan-dyed hair, pushing into his face until that was too much and he couldn’t see, then he’d have fun sweeping it back again. And then Sharpen sat up on both elbows to play at tossing his hair over his shoulder, like one of those dashing pirate guys.

Was he getting better at it? He should go get a mirror and try it. Sharpen wasn’t getting up for anything, he was kidding himself.

Another sip of cocoa. He flipped a few pages in the book to get to a sex scene at least. Then, his eyebrows raised. And he smirked, and he sat all the way up, read a certain passage again, and then a third time.

Then, he lay on his stomach and raised his ankles up, slid his bare feet together. Sharpen kept going until he was near to the end.

“So… nothing is really going to happen to me this time? Naked, alone, at home? In the mood for… anything special? Anything at all?”

Sharpen closed his book. It made a satisfying light thump when he did that. Books were lovely. Holding your favorite story like a dear friend, or a pet. Carrying it with you everywhere. Having a relationship with it. He idly hoped that books would never go away.

“Well. If nothing is going to happen then, I guess I should be grateful? I got the peaceful evening that I wanted.”

Still, Sharpen waited.

A knock on the door...

At last! Naked, or not naked? Well, it might not be a great idea for him to open the door for overly curious, lusty neighbors these days. Sharpen noted the blur by the front window didn’t look to menacing and so went half-way, he threw his bear skin around himself, with one long fuzzy arm over his shoulder, sort of like a toga.

“Ahoy, there!” He said, unable to fully exit the fantasy world of his favorite book. Whoever it was would be startled enough, this should really frazzle them.

Alessandre, a tall dark-skinned Night Elf with deep blue hair stood on his doorstep. A rogue, reportedly an assassin, though Sharpen knew Al would never admit to that. Al wasn’t any danger to Sharpen, he was a friend of his sister’s.

Sharpen winced immediately, “Oh… I…” Then as soon as Alessandre started yelling at him, “Al! Seriously, I forgot! I’m usually up here on my own.”

“I was stuck in Winterspring, freezing! For three hours! I didn’t have a map, or a way to contact you. You said you would meet me because it was too hard to explain getting through the switchbacks up the mountain… I slid down a mountainside, trying to get up here and find your ass, Sharpen Jadescythe!”

Alessandre was bruised, his fine leather clothing was ripped. Who knew where his coat or cloak had got to. Sharpen tried not to ask questions when his scary rogue friend needed help.

“Please, come in—”

“And why are you naked? Do I look like one of your weird, hot mountain-man dates! Now let me in, everyone in town said there was a winter storm coming. Flakes are already starting to come down...”

Alessandre pushed his way inside, slamming the door.

“You just insulted your own boss, you know. She has a key. Sometimes she visits me...”

The two men arguing reverberated all through the walls of the wintry cabin for an hour or so before they eventually settled down to dinner, with Sharpen hopefully dressed by that time. Well. That’s one reason to get dressed for the day like mother always said.

Random assassins. Who’da thought?

Naked book reading time almost never failed. And then, came the loudest shout of all...

Alessandre slammed something down in the kitchen, “Hold on! You’re seeing my boss?! What part of ‘I need to lay low for a while, can I stay at your place because I might be in trouble with the Greyshields’ did you NOT understand, Sharpen?”

“She’s lovely and really nice once you get to know her.”

An even louder man-shriek, “She’s the one coming to kill me!”

Welp. This was going to be an interesting couple of days.

“Not in a snowstorm, though. You’re overreacting. And whatever you did can’t be that bad--”

“We’re talking about Jiroki Glaivefall. She IS the snowstorm, Sharpen!”

Yep, certainly good times!

[journal-of-an-outlaw]

Price to be Paid - Chapter 8

Friends in Low Places

Words: 3,826

The next day was the livestock con that John had been planning for weeks. He and Arthur rode off into the hills to steal the flock and bring it back into town to sell as their own. 

Dutch watched his boys ride off while he smoked a cigar, and Hosea walked up to join him. “What a time we’ve had, eh Dutch?” Dutch claspsed Hosea on the shoulder, hanging on and reminiscing on their past adventures. “What a wild ride we have been through.” 

“Hopefully, my friend, our running days will soon be over. Just one more big one with good money and we are free. Then we can get our people to a safe home, like they deserve.” 

Lenny called you over to Pearson’s workstation. “YN! Teach me how to skin this rabbit, I know Arthur taught you so you oughta be good.” You laughed and rolled your sleeves up, “Thanks, Lenny. Alright. Let’s get to work. You want to know the first thing Arthur asked me when I wanted to learn how to do this?”

“What’s that?”

Acting grumpy with hunched shoulders you replied, “You sure you wanna get blood all over your dress?” Lenny bust up laughing while you impersonated the rugged man. “Damn fool didn’t see I was holding a knife five feet from him but still had the nerve to say it! Right after I shot a deer clean through the heart, too." 

Lenny laughed again while you began to teach him the Arthur Morgan way of skinning a rabbit. Every once in awhile he would ask you a question by impersonating Arthur and the two of you fell apart on the wooden table. He was a bright kid, and really nineteen was a kid, with a good heart and an infectious laugh. 

Jack came up just as the two of you were finishing and asked to pet your horse. Lenny ruffled the kids hair and left you to babysit, heading over to his tent to organize a few things. Jack grabbed your hand and dragged you to your mare.

“She’s pretty, YN! And tall. Not as tall as Uncle Arthur’s horsie, though. I wish I could have one, too.” His mind was everywhere, bouncing from place to place with no time to take a breath in between. Poor kid, four years old and stuck living the outlaw life. No wonder Abigail was so hellbent on getting out before something happened. 

He bent down and grabbed a flower to pick, his sights on dainty yellow petals with a white center when Eclipse moved too close. You swung down and grabbed Jack before she could get spooked, and you saw Dutch and Strauss walking up. 

They were deep in conversation and almost didn’t notice you. 

“Now, Herr Strauss, we are to meet Arthur and John at the saloon after. There’s talk of some big man in town and I intent to get on his good side before we show him a reason to be on his bad, so maybe you just stay quiet then?”

“But Dutch, I still have three loans that need to be collected! That money -”

Dutch interrupted him, yelling in his face, “That money is the only thing keeping us alive! Now why in the hell have you not gone to collect it?”

Her Strauss replied meekly, “I asked Arthur but he never had the time.”

Dutch ran his hand down his face and noticed you there. “YN, it’s time to learn another skill, my dear. When Arthur gets back from town, go with him to collect those debts so generously given by Herr Strauss. The two of you should get on just fine.”

You nodded and moved Jack closer to your hip, afraid the loud voices would frighten the child. Herr Strauss handed you three loan sheets which you tucked away in your satchel for later. Jack simply continued to play with the colorful flower in his hands until he held it out to the approaching Abigail as a present for simply being there. 

The tent you called home had built up a small collection of outfits, guns, and various other objects during your months at Horseshoe Creek. It was small but cozy. You even had a proper blanket now made from the skin of a cougar you hunted not too long ago. 

After you flopped down to the small bedroll, you grabbed the book you had been devouring most recently after swapping with Hosea. He had gotten you invested in a crime series and had given you the latest last night after finishing it himself, of course, and was bursting to discuss it so you promised to be quick. The sunlight was still filtering in warmly and you left the flaps of the tent open for fresh air to accompany you on your journey to another life. Precious few things brought you the pleasure like reading did. 

Later in the day, Hosea himself stuck his head in your tent. “How are you getting on, YN? Hiding from Grimshaw so you can get through more of that book?”

You jumped as the voice ripped you from the pages, but quickly laughed at how eager Hosea was for you to read. “I’m trying! Doesn’t help I can hear her scream every few minutes. But this book, Hosea...it’s so -”

The end of that sentence was never finished as Grimshaw had finally found you. “I should have known you would have something to do with this, Hosea! YN! Get that lazy Blackwater ass out here to help with the laundry."

Hosea looked sheepish at having given you away but you smiled and promised to read again later, then followed Grimshaw while she continued to chew you out. 

Sadie Adler was finally cleaned up and dressed with the other girls who were doing the laundry in the middle of camp. Buckets of sudsy water sloshed around as item after item were dunked, scrubbed, and passed to the next. You joined in after Mary-Beth and before Sadie. 

“Nice to see you out and about, Mrs. Adler! Feelin’ better?” She smiled back and her eyes were clear for the first time since you’d met her. “A bit, miss. Working to see what livin’ is about now. You fine people took me in, time to do my share. Although I ain’t choppin’ no vegetables no more with that man, about ready to chop him up too.” 

The girls chattered as the laundry eventually finished up, and everything was hung up to dry. You grabbed the last few pieces to hang on the line when a hand snaked out to grab yours. 

“You got anything special in there to show me, YN?"

Michah had found you again and hid behind the colorful array so no one could see him. 

“Jesus, Michah. You got nothin’ better to do than stalk me doin’ laundry? Leave me alone, I ain’t got nothing to entertain with you.”

He smirked and moved closer, “Oh girly, I got some entertaining you could do. Just give me a few hours.” His hand rubbed the back of yours, mocking the memory you had of Arthur comforting you and you shook him off violently. Irritation and rage began to pump from your heart and spread across your chest. 

“I don’t want anymore time with you than necessary, thank you.” He didn’t seem to mind the constant rejection, and in fact it seemed to make him pursue you more. 

“‘Thank you?’ Always so kind,” he sneered at you. “YN. One of these days you’re gonna have to learn how to be a real outlaw and toughen up.”

“Only a damn fool mistakes kindness for weakness, Mr. Bell. Strength don’t come from the lack of love or compassion in a heart,” you snapped back. 

He was unimpressed with your outburst. You were just hoping he had lost interest when he said, “You book folk are so boring. Always full of words. I prefer action. You know where to find me once you wisen up. And girl, I sure hope you do.” The clothing on the drying line parted as Michah smacked them out of his path. You rolled your eyes and picked up the empty basket to bring back to Grimshaw and prove your chores were done. 

That afternoon was when true chaos began. The sound of horses thundering into camp made everyone stand to attention as Dutch, Arthur, John, and Strauss rode in looking extremely shaken from Valentine. All of them were dishevelled and covered in dirt. Abigail rushed over as John jumped from his horse and said something to her. She nodded and left for their shared tent to begin throwing things in their tent. Dutch grabbed Hosea and moved to his tent, retelling everyone what happened. 

“Our time in Valentine has come to an untimely end! Leviticus Cornwall and his band of thugs met us outside the saloon and things did not end well for them. It’s time for us to pack up and leave this area, what with Pinkerton’s breathing down our necks and Cornwall comin’ to find us. Ms. Grimshaw, Mr. Pearson, if you please! Get this place packed up while we look for a new spot.” Everyone began to move, you rushed to your tent and began throwing everything into the few bags you had bought and rolled the bedding up to make it easier to carry. 

Hosea sat with Dutch as Arthur approached, and was none too happy about the current situation. “So, we keep heading east. Is that the plan?”

“For now.”

“And when do we stop? When we reach Paris?” Hosea exclaimed sarcastically. 

“Oh that’d be nice, and join the Commune? We stop when we find someplace sensible, shake them that’s following us and lie low.” Dutch countered. It felt like an age old argument, with Hosea thinking legit scams were the way to go, and Dutch wanting one last big score to blow the others out of the water. 

Hosea put his face into his hands, “And this is lying low? We’ve turned into a bunch of killers, I mean it.”

Dutch sat up straighter. “Sometimes, survival means having only one choice. We have to take it, or lose everything we’ve worked towards.” 

Hosea threw his hands up, fed up with not feeling safe in his own home and stormed out of Dutch’s tend. Arthur moved closer to the older man to get a better look at the map he was studying. 

“Michah told me of a place we can lie low. Dewberry Creek, he said. Maybe you and Charles can go take a look, clear off anyone you find before the whole lot of us move in.” Dutch pointed at the spot and Arthur nodded. 

“Looks like I’ve turned into the Goddamned errand boy,” while walking away. 

Dutch stood as tall as you’ve seen him, chest puffed with pride. “You have turned into my son, you worry because I worry. We are just the same!” Before Arthur got too far, Dutch yelled again, “Arthur! And when you return you and Miss Moore have some debts to collect on behalf of Herr Strauss. We’ll see how things are when you’re back from scouting.” 

Arthur and Charles left shortly after that, not expecting to be gone more than a few hours. While they were out riding free, Ms. Grimshaw saw that every single one of the girls was sweating away, cleaning and packing and washing and sorting. All these damn men and not a single one could pack the knives away correctly. 

Abigail and John were struggling to get everything done with Jack running around, so you offered after your tent was packed to take care of him. The fighting didn’t stop, but at least the kid was out of the way and not there to see it. 

Jack took your hand and wanted to go see the river one last time. You wondered if he really understood why you were moving so constantly, and the past few months you had two camps. To a four year old that’s a lot of life changes. 

He found a blue flower and tried to braid it into your hair, making you both giggle. It matched the shirt that Mary-Beth finally got around to make for you. A light blue that played with your dark features beautifully, and she even made some lace designs to fancy it up. You loved that shirt and were ecstatic when she gave it to you a week ago. 

“I want a flower too, YN,” Jack whined when you sat down for a moment. “Of course, Jack, what color you reckon?” He contemplated it, then decided on yellow. The two of you set off to wander the small field for a yellow flower. 

“Here! Help me put it in my hair.” Jack loved flowers in hair and his own was no exception. This fascination with flowers was interesting to you, but when you asked he only shrugged and said something about Abigail loving them too. 

A few hours later, Charles came riding down the slope. “YN! Arthur is waiting for you back at camp, or what’s left of it. Want me to give you two a ride up?” 

Jack shook his head, so the two of you walked next to Tamia while Charles chatted about the new campsite he had found. 

“The site Michah told us about already had people there, a dried up old creek bed. Would have been fine, but it’s hard to settle so many folks on uneven ground. Poor German lady and her two kids were there, hiding out under a wagon. While we went out riding to find her missing husband we found this perfect spot by a lake. Huge, even field hidden by trees. I can see us hiding there a long while.”

He looked calm about the whole ordeal and happy about the new site. 

“What happened to him?” You asked suddenly. 

“Who? Oh, the husband. Arthur took him back to his wife and we met up as we was coming back near Valentine. The family is alright,” he smiled down at you, the worry leaving your face. 

“Just like to know they were safe is all!” You said a bit too defensively, but laughed at yourself. 

Arthur was leaning against the last wagon as it was being packed up. Charles waved to you and carried Jack up to meet Abigail and John leading the wagon, then left to lead the caravan off to the new campsite. 

“Guess it’s just you and me then, huh?” He took the last puff of a cigarette, then threw it out into the grass. “Guess so, Mr. Morgan.”

“How many damn times you gonna keep calling me that?” he growled. 

“Sorry. Arthur,” he waved his hand, signalling his indifference. “Now, Her Strauss gave us three people to collect from, are we gonna be able to do that all in one afternoon?”

“Hope so. All locals, just need to get them talking quickly. Need be we can camp and head to the new site tomorrow.”

“With what? Most of my supplies just left,” you motioned to your things now rolling away in the last caravan and out of sight. The few supplies attached to Eclipse were nothing compared to what had just left you. Arthur swore and moved to get on his horse, “Then we best get this done fast. It’s already late and the first one’s an hour ride.”

Eclipse kept up with Zeus, Arthur’s dark bay stallion, well during the journey. She was a little headstrong and sometimes didn’t respond to you right away, causing Arthur to take the lead in case she decided to jump off a bridge or something like that. 

Talking was infrequent. Arthur turned out to be more of a focused and quiet rider. You found out he also liked to read, though not like Hosea. He shared many qualities with the older man but was still inexplicably drawn more to Dutch. They were both hot headed with a sense of leadership, and Hosea was more about playing things safe. Arthur had a healthy dose of each and the influence was easy to see in just about everything he did. 

The first stop was a man named Chick Matthews. As you rode up, one of the hands told you Chick was out around the barn tending to his horse. The moment he spotted the two of you riding up he jumped on and galloped away, which was a shocking sight. 

“Arthur! I’ll head up over the ridge to his right, I think I see a bridge up ahead. You go right after him and let’s see who can get there first. Heya!” Without waiting for him to respond you kicked Eclipse into a full gallop after the little man. She ran fast and strong, but Chick had a good head start and it took a bit of corralling to catch up. In the distance you could hear him taunting Arthur for being too slow and old, and you can only imagine the rage boiling on his face. They came up to a train that you had bypassed by going up above when Arthur managed to lasso that fool straight to the ground. 

Once knocked down he coughed and sputtered like an idiot. 

“Look, look, I got the money...but it’s hidden. Untie me and I’ll tell you where it’s at.” 

You rode up just as Arthur finished hog tying the man, throwing a punch or two for making you both chase him so far. This may be your fist debt collecting but you wouldn’t let him abuse the man. As he pulled back to hit him again you grabbed his arm.

“Arthur! Let the man talk, for heaven’s sake. He’s got the money.” Arthur looked at your concerned face incredulously. “Miss Moore, this country round here is full of idiots. Look at this one here,” he kicked his boot against Chicks lightly. “Now see, he doesn’t think we know about what’s in his pockets so why don’t you empty them out for me?”

Pick pocketing was better than beating, so you leaned down to see what he was hiding. An old carrot, a cigarette card, and a map leading you right to the money were all you found. 

The map was incredibly simple. One bridge and a tree were all that were on it, and you looked down at Chick. “I may now want to hit you sir, for this is surely the dumbest map I have ever seen. Where the hell does it even start?” 

He smiled a gap toothed grin up at you. “See Miss! That’s the best part. No one knows it but me.” At that Arthur delivered another kick to his stomach, hard and fast. “Tell me where the damn money is!” 

“Fine! Okay, Jesus. Head north and turn left at the Old Creek Bridge, it’s the tree closest there.”

Arthur nodded and moved towards Zeus. “YN, you take that sack of shit back to the ranch and I’ll meet you once I have collected Mr. Matthews’ debt. You try any funny business with her, and you’ll wish all I’d done was break some ribs of yours,” and took off. 

Chick starred up at Eclipse. “Gee, Miss, I ain’t never ridden behind on a horse before. And never with a woman!” You rolled your eyes and loaded him up behind you. 

True to his word Chick Matthews put up no fuss heading back. He pointed out some of his favorite land features and asked you to walk into town more than once. You politely declined, but you knew he didn’t mean any harm.  Arthur finally rode up with a bag, showing you the cash then tucking it safely away in his satchel. The two of you were off to victim number two, Mr. Wrobel.

The Polish man lived at a farm called Painted Sky, and didn’t speak a lick of English. You tried to be soft and comforting but that didn’t seem to go anywhere, so Arthur lumbered in and demanded the return of cash. Wrobel seemed to have nothing, but sadly motioned around his home and let the two of you take enough possessions to equal the amount of the debt. It broke your heart to watch his face, and leaving you could see it troubled Arthur too. 

“Why do you do jobs like this if they don’t feel right?” You asked quietly as the two of you mounted your horses for the third and final destination. 

Arthur scratched the back of his neck, thinking. “I honestly prefer when they try to run or put up a fight. Don’t feel so bad robbin’ folks who make a point to take advantage of the loan. But those like him? Who need it? Makes me think I’m only out here to grease the wheel so it keeps turning. Folks need money, we lend it, then take it back with interest.” 

Finally arriving past dark at Emerald Ridge, the third debtor gave Arthur no hesitation in his approach of getting the money back. Lilly Millet’s boyfriend jumped up and attacked him with a swift uppercut to his jaw and the man drew no pity from you after you heard the way he was berating Lilly. 

Lilly grabbed your arm while the two men brawled and made a fuss of it all. Truth be told, it was quite the sight. Both me tall and muscular in build it was an evenly matched fight. After a few quick hits the other man went down, and Arthur stood huffing above him. You definitely understood why he liked the ones who fought him, he looked damn fine doing it. 

“Alright, alright! That’s enough. He has everything I gave him, please, just take what he has and go,” Lilly called out to Arthur. To you, she whispered, “You’re a lucky girl to be running with a man like that. Makes mine look like an old rag.” You both looked down to where her man lay unconscious, in the mud. She rolled her eyes and made her way over to get him cleaned up. 

Chuckling, you walked over to Arthur. “What’s so funny now?” he asked while stuffing the last of the cash in his satchel.

“Lilly had more on her mind that just debts, I think,” you looked at him suggestively but were met with a blank stare. “Oh, come on Arthur don’t be dense. I think she likes you!” After a beat it clicked and he looked away embarrassed. “Want me to ask if she’s free Friday?” you moved slowly backwards but he grabbed your upper arm lightly. “No! Come on, woman. We best be moving. Probably have to camp halfway back now.” He started Zeus into a slow walk as you jumped up to Eclipse.

“Besides, she ain’t my type anyways. I like brunettes,” and with that he took off galloping, leaving you to watch and race after him.

[beatricethecat2]

if/then (2.0) - 20

A few chapters back, I mentioned wrapping this up soon. Flash-forward to now…well, I see where that impulse came from, but also where it falls flat. There needs to be a balance (or as much as I'm capable of) within the narrative arc, so it needs to get pushed farther. That means diving into people and places I'm not as familar with and trying to bring them to life (plus calling back to details and weaving in new ones…you know, writing). So bear with me, it's plotted, but the gaps need filled in. If you’re still on board with this, I thank you heartily. I’m posting two chapters now because I didn't want to leave you hanging at the end of this one. All typos are mine, I’ll do what I can to catch them later (edited 11/30). Look for chapter 21 to be posted soon after this one. Links to other chapters in a reply.

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Despite Morgana’s warnings, the hunt for Helena continues. Myka proceeds with caution, even with Claudia's better-than-government-grade VPN installed on her laptop. Books have become her go-to, with no bots to track or caches to mine. They're slower in the long run but prompt new ideas, which she, in turn, passes off to Claudia.

One thing was certain: even if Helena hadn't planned this ahead of time, Christina’s comfort would be paramount. Cooking classes for kids? After school music activities involving drums? Kempo classes throughout the UK? All searched for and through with little gain. But the question was: how far undercover would Helena and Christina have to go? Was an Interpol intervention different than a regular police one? Claudia watched countless hours of British police shows in hopes of learning more, but was left feeling more paranoid than informed in the end.

Meanwhile, Myka tacked on oddball acquisitions in remote locales to keep from drowning in "what-ifs." There, in relative obscurity, having thrown off her tails, she could scour libraries and bookstores freely. She was at a loss for exactly what to look into, so she grasped onto the list of "Happy Christmases” Helena had taught Christina. She cross-referenced books with internet materials, but kept detailed notes in her sketchbook.

She drew the tiny shape Guernsey and noted the island's pros and cons. At six miles long and three miles wide, it looked like a quaint place to hide. But to travel, they’d need a boat or a plane, and it was closer to France than the UK. And without easy access to a city, Christina wouldn’t be content. She crossed it off the list.

Scottish, she learned, was still spoken in The Outer Hebrides, which, according to one of her guidebooks, boasted an island shaped like an upside-down ice cream cone. Christina would be into that, living on a food-shaped island, so she sketched it out and turned it upside-down. She didn’t exactly see the resemblance, but that wasn’t important. What was: the chain was far from the mainland with only one road plus ferries connecting the islands. Its population was mostly fisherman and crofters; it's landscape, idyllic, but rural. Again, with no city nearby, Helena wouldn’t sequester them there for any length of time. She put it in the “no” column for now.

Northern Ireland was a definite maybe, though they'd included Belfast in their earlier search. She drew the outline of where Belfast and West Belfast met, as apparently, West Belfast held a population of Irish speakers. But Ireland, the island, was massive, the largest part was an entirely different country. That could cause problems if Helena and Christina had to run. She made a note to check into Irish border crossings and moved on.

Cornwall, a fingerlike peninsula jutting out into the Celtic Sea, had multiple transportation options and several cities. They could hide in its rugged countryside while retaining access to several populated towns, and even jet up to London if they were feeling bold. Cornish as a language was only recently being revived, so there was no specific area in which it was spoken. She put a star next to it anyway, as it seemed the most likely. She sent her findings off to Claudia and kept researching.

But then, at an auction a few weeks later, her theory was put to the test. A fifteenth-century atlas lay open to a map of England, Ireland, and Wales, where she traced a path between her researched locations. As a line formed along the furthest edges of Great Britain, it hit her--if one wanted to send their enemies on a wild goose chase, that was it. The “Merry Christmases” were a red herring, something for Christina to broadcast readily, as she'd read children in witness protection programs often gave away their whereabouts accidentally. And she fell for it hook, line, and sinker. Claudia was not going to be pleased.

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She's had months to prepare, but here she is, at the last minute, taking time off work to finish several new paintings. Luiza had hooked her up with this group show at a gallery Amanda raved was “blowing up,” but about a month ago she nearly baled. But Luiza insisted she show, saying their work together would lead to stellar reviews. Plus, Luiza needed the press to bolster her artist visa application, so how could Myka refuse?

Well known in her native Sao Paulo, but working hard to make a name for herself in the States, Maria Luiza Izquierdo's work captivated Myka from day one. Her abstract patterns drew her in, with their brightly colored stripes and weaved textiles, bubbling animatedly off the canvas and onto the floor. Her freedom of concept and command of materials was beyond anything she'd ever seen. She definitely was an artist on the rise, and Myka was glad to have made her aquaintance.

And from the looks of Luiza's impressive resume, Myka was an amateur in comparison. Out of the eight other artists at her residency, she’d bonded with Luiza the most. Her ambition was contagious, mind moving a mile a minute, always seeing the good in things. Plus, her smile lit up the room, making it impossible to sulk in her presence. She wouldn't have made it through the first months of Helena’s disappearance without the distraction.

They met up as often as possible when Luiza was in town, her visits kicking Myka out of her increasingly mechanical routine. It was good for her cover, hanging out with Luiza and her friends, plus it lifted her out of the heavy funk she was buried in. Luiza prodded her to show her new work, much like Helena used to do, inviting herself over when Myka failed to do so promptly. There were many things about Luiza that reminded her of Helena, beyond any physical resemblance, but when those thoughts arose, she promptly tamped them down. Loneliness conjured desperate parallels. If Helena were standing next to her, there’d be no comparison.

Having couch surfed though most of her friends, Luiza asked to crash with Myka for this trip. Since Abigail's visit went smoothly, Myka thought, why not? Having company for a few days, especially someone who could help her with her art, seemed like a good idea. But before she had time to prepare, she was called away unexpectedly on a work trip. She left spare keys with the guard at her office and told Luiza to sleep in her room for now. They'd inflate the air bed when she got back.

Upon her return, as she rolls her suitcase down the hall, a mouth-watering scent fills her lungs. It’s not unusual as her neighbor often cooks for relatives, but she’s surprised when the scent intensifies inside her door. The figure in her kitchen, her long, dark hair glowing in the backlight, stops her in her tracks. She’s transported to a different time, a happier one, one she has hopes to reclaim in the future.

“Olá, Myka!" Luiza greets, turning to face her. "How was your flight?”

“H-Hi!” Luiza’s enunciation, choppy and light, is the exact opposite of Helena’s velvety smoothness. Her messy bangs and bright red lipstick further shatter the illusion. “Not terrible. What’s all this?”

“Mrs. Rodrigues, she made us feijoada!”

Myka ditches her bag and steps into the kitchen, where all resemblance to Helena withers as she stands next to the slightly-taller-than-her Luiza. A pot bubbles on the stove as greens stew in a pan. A steaming pot of rice sits on the counter, accompanied by bowls of colorful garnish, more bowls than she remembers owning.

“Mrs. Rodrigues? I've barely spoken to her.”

“She was very much interested in this stranger entering your home.” Luiza points to herself with her thumb. “She is from Brazil, you know. Santos, where my avó lives."

“Avó?”

“Ah...grandmother,” Luiza says, taking a moment to translate the word in her head. She slips two bowls from a cabinet and sets them on the counter. "She feels bad for you.”

“Me? Why?”

“‘Too skinny. Works too much. No namorado.'” Luiza draws out the “o” and circles a wooden serving spoon in the air.

“Namorado. I think I know what that means. So definitely not.” Myka snags an orange slice from a bowl and pops it in her mouth.

Luiza smacks her hand with the spoon.

“Ow!"

“Save for dinner."

“Sorry.” Myka rubs her hand, flashing a mock pout. "It’s nice she’s feeding us. I was dreading takeout.”

“This is much, much better. And I bought cachaça to make batidas.” Luiza holds up a bottle of spirits, grinning ear to ear.

“Nice!” Myka says, smiling back.

“Only the best for my generous host,” Luiza says, adding a small bow. “Now, we eat.” She hands Myka a bowl and sets to making drinks.

At the gallery the next day, they help install each other's work, though Luiza’s pieces are larger and more complex then Myka's. Myka stands back, contemplating placement and aesthetics, while Luiza enlists several other pairs of hands to assist. Myka's in awe of Luiza’s persuasive charm, yet another trait she shares with Helena. But with Luiza, there's no alternate agenda, whereas Helena’s was often circumspect.

“Perfeito!” Luiza exclaims as she steps away from the completed install. “You are in my head, my friend. I should take you everywhere!” She sweeps Myka into a hug that lingers longer than expected, though a hug like this is not unusual. Luiza’s concept of personal space is more forward than her own.

Dinner takes place at a friend of Luiza’s, at a garden party in Silverlake. Myka mills about, catching up with acquaintances, mingling awkwardly with other guests. When everyone takes a seat, Luiza pats the chair next to her, insisting Myka situate herself there. As the meal progresses, Luiza drapes an arm over the back of Myka's chair, an act which Myka finds slightly unsettling. Again, it's not unusual, as Luiza's done it to others, but Helena used to do something similar as a sign of ownership. But as wine is swapped out for brandy, she shifts her focus toward the lively art and commerce banter. Fielding criticism of the trade is liberating, as at work she so often has to hold her tongue.

The next night is the show opening, and the dress Myka picks out isn’t “LA” enough for Luiza. Luiza takes her to a consignment shop where her friend works, where she’s handed a flowery faux-forties dress to try on. Myka twirls to the left and the right, staring at herself in the dressing room mirror, the knee-length skirt bouncing back and forth gaily. It’s a cheerful, tasteful garment, hitting her curves in all the right places. Not that her current wardrobe doesn’t, but it typically flaunts her assets less. It’s a choice she would have made pre-apartment tragedy, but since then, she’s toned down her style. Which suits her job fine, plus with Helena gone, who would she be trying to impress? But it feels freeing somehow, like she’s entered a portal to a simpler time. When she leaves the dressing room, Luiza gasps, and her friend claps with glee. She decides yes, it is perfect, perfect for the show, perfect for the Myka she needs to project.

The scene is giddy as they dress in Myka's apartment. Luiza styles Myka's hair into a voluminous mass of curls cascading over her shoulders. The shade of lipstick she convinces her to wear is so bright her eyes glow green. But it’s Luiza's blouse that steals the show, handmade by her, matching the warp and weft of her work, upstaging her skin-tight leather pants. Myka hasn't had this much fun preparing for an event since grad school with Abigail. The levity is certainly welcome.

There's an afterparty after the after-party, with drinks flowing freely along the way. Myka has no idea how much she drank nor what time they left, but their cab zooms home in no time. Luiza hangs off Myka's arm as they shuffle down her hall. Both giggle as Myka fumbles with her keys. They throw their bags onto the same chair as they stumble in.

“You need a couuuch, minha amiga," Luiza slurs, marching into Myka’s bedroom and plopping down on the edge of the bed. “We drink more! You bring the cachaça. But first I—” She bends towards her shoes, but topples forward, catching herself just barely, palms down, arms extended as if performing involuntary yoga.

Myka hurries in and levers her up. “My shoes, I am sorry,” Luiza says, bending forward again to finish the task. Myka pushes her back, then tries to kneel but wobbles, grabbing Luiza’s knee as she lowers herself down. She slips off Luiza's heel, and as she attends to the second one, Luisa buries her hands in Myka's curls. Luiza angles her face up and leans forward, pressing their lips together.

She’s kissing me. Why is she kissing me? The act is not entirely unpleasant, but not quite right. Is this my fault? Did I lead her on? I didn't, but...did I? She replays the evening in her head, but it’s hazy.

Luiza's hands slip down, cupping the base of Myka's head, deepening the kiss, urging her to rise. Myka breaks it off just then.

“Finalmente,” Luiza says, her voice soft and low, leaning in for another kiss. Myka jerks away, but Luiza's thrown off balance, hands still buried in Myka's curls. Luiza slips off the bed entirely, and they tumble to the ground.

“I can’t do this,” Myka says, pushing Luiza up at the shoulders.

“You have another lover.”

“It's not that."

“Then why?” Luiza lifts herself up so that her arms and legs are now straddling Myka. "Your eyes were on me tonight." She leans in for another kiss, but Myka turns her head.

“This is your ex,” Luiza snaps and sits back on her heels. “You have found her. You’re going to…” She frowns. “Ask for her back."

“I don’t know where she is.” Where did that come from? Myka scoots back, carefully extracting herself from under Luiza's hold. She lifts on her elbows, but makes no sudden move to rise.

“I see it in your eyes. Something has changed.” Luiza falls back, sliding down the edge of the bed, dramatically thrusting her legs out until she’s in sitting position. “You will visit her in London, this woman who destroyed your heart. Tell me where she is, this-this, desgraça, ela que vá a merda!”

Luiza’s Portuguese slurred, but her tone pushed the point across. Myka bends at her knees and inches further back, sitting up while hugging her legs to her chest. Luiza knows everything about her, the entire fake story about Helena as she’s cried in her beer many times over it. But Luiza’s never become this agitated, and she’s not entirely sure why. “H-How did you know I was going to London?” She only found out a few days ago and knows she hadn’t mentioned it.

Luiza drags a hand, raggedly, through her thick, dark locks and looks off to the side. "It was there, on your phone, the text. You left it on the table. It lit up.”

The text, "Sotheby’s London confirmed,” could have honestly meant anything. And she’s been super careful since Morgana’s warning; she hasn't talked about searching for Helena at all, so why would that text set off this tirade?

“It is good that you find her. You must put her away. She is stopping you from better things.” Luiza pushes off the bed and crawls closer to Myka, reaching out and laying a hand on Myka’s knee.

Myka flinches, her head says, "run away," but gut tells her to stay. Something’s not right here. Something big. If Morgana were here, what would she say?

“Put her to rest so we can begin.” Luiza moves ever closer, threading a curl behind Myka’s ear and pressing kiss to her temple.

Myka’s chest tightens as panic sets in. And here, she thought she was being disingenuous, but all along it was Luiza. Luiza’s been grooming her this whole time, tricking her into trusting her, into giving away details about Helena’s situation.

“I’m sorry, but no,” Myka says, releasing her legs and pushing away. Careful now, rejecting her outright will look suspicious after how close you’ve gotten. “I-I’m really flattered, a-and you’re a beautiful, talented woman, but…” Luiza was alone in her apartment. Did she dig through her files? Plant bugs in the walls? Has she been monitoring her calls and texts this whole time? “I, um…there is someone else, if I’m being completely honest.” If only she’d taken up Morgana’s offer, she’d have someone vetted, but now...

“Que?” Luiza says, raising a brow.

“M-My friend Abigail and I, we’ve been talking.” Wait...if Luiza is a spy then she’ll know that isn't technically true, she’ll already know everything about her. “I-I haven’t said anything yet, but I’m planning to when she's in town for Thanksgiving.”

“Abigail. The doctor who lives far away?”

“Only until her post-doc is over. Then she’ll transfer wherever she wants."

“She is your long-time friend. What has changed?”

“I, um…” A catalyst, Myka, come on…think! “When she came to visit for my birthday, she said…she made a comment about maybe dating women. And that stuck with me.”

“She will return your love?”

“I think so.” Or kill me for being an idiot.

Luiza backs towards the bed, looking genuinely shaken. In the moment, she’s simply a bruised suitor, not a potential spy at all.

"I didn’t want to jinx it by saying it out loud.”

“What is jinx?”

“Mess it up before it starts.”

“Que dá azar. Bad luck. Ok.” Luiza holds Myka’s gaze, seemingly gauging the truth in the situation, nodding her head up and down in tiny strokes.

If she doesn’t believe me, what do I do?

Luiza's eyes close as her head falls back against the bed. She’s silent for a few minutes, then takes a deep breath in. “It is time for sleep. And muitos litros de água. Much water.” She hauls herself up, limbs shaking, and walks as steadily as she can towards the door. "Boms sonhos, Myka,” she says, turning back just before exiting.

“Goodnight,” Myka replies, her voice cracking from the lump stuck in her throat. Once Luiza’s gone, she tries to rise, but gravity pulls her down. What have I done? She rolls onto her back and closes her eyes. I'm stupid. So stupid. She’s not my friend. Why can’t I have a friend? A twinge of pain throbs through her brow, and she pinches the bridge of her nose. I have to fix this, fix this now. I need to call Claudia. Or that number Morgana gave me. She rolls over and sits up. But my phone’s in my bag and my bag's on the chair. I can’t go out there, not tonight. She crawls over to her bed and climbs on top, curling up into a ball. Everything’s fucked. Helena, I can’t take much more of this. Where are you? I need you to come back, now.

-TBC-

[spineljoinsthefbi]

Here is Chapter 1 of this shitty Danganronpa X Town of Salem fanfic I made.

1: The beginning of a despairing town.

Oh man it’s been too long since

I told this story. My name is Murasakino Kasai. I was born in Hawaii in the winter of 2002. I was a pretty famous fire dancer in my hometown. One day after my Grandmother, died I had to move out. This is was the day where I had to move to a state all by myself. I had to travel by plane. It was kinda scary but I made it through.

After I got on the plane I knew It was gonna be a bumpy ride. For some reason I saw 20 people, they all look like around my age range. I sat next to a girl wearing a hat and a flannel shirt with black shorts, she had a camera, a old camera. I knew I had to say hi or I might seem like another individual, I want to make friends and this girl seems like a catch, “um hi there, my name is Murasakino Kasai, what’s yours?” I said in a nice and calm tone, “hello Murasakino, my name is Furamu Shashin, it’s nice to meet you” she said in sweet voice. Her hair was brown and her skin looked dirty yet smooth. “So Furamu, where are you from and what’s your job” “well you see I lived in Italy for all my lifetime, I was hired by the newspaper to snap the latest business, I was #5 on the most famous Paper Girls and Boys list”. She blushed I didn’t know why, it wasn’t something to get embarrassed about. I looked around, I got a good look at the kids next to me and Furamu. There was a girl wearing a cough mask, rubber gloves, and glasses, the man next to her was like 2x bigger than her, he was around 6’1 and he looked like a pro football player, he was wearing his team’s shirt which was the New York Giants. I knew that these kids are gonna be interesting.

After I was done looking a storm picked up, it was thundering, booming, it certainly was scary. The lights went out, I thought I was gonna die but I didn’t scream to start something up, I need to be respectful. Suddenly we got out of the storm and the light turned on. I looked around to see if anyone was alright. They were fine but they looked different, like wearing different clothes different. Furamu was wearing a black suit, she still had her camera but it was much older this time, I believed even she knew that something happened because she had this confused expression. The 6’1 kid was not wearing a shirt anymore rather, brown rugged pants and black leather boots, and the sick girl is now wearing a black doctor’s robe with black pants and a top hat, she also has a plague doctor’s mask. “Ummm Murasakino, your skin is umm...purple” After she said that I looked down, I noticed I was wearing a Japanese robe with wooden slippers, I checked my hands and I was indeed purple. For some reason I didn’t freak out, just passed out on top of Furamu.

I was out for the whole ride, I probably would’ve been still out if it wasn’t or Furamu who woke me up. After we got off the plane, we saw a town in the distance, there was nowhere else to go so we all went to the town. The town looked like it was from the 1700s. We went down a dirt path to the town, it was dusty but we made it. The town was completely empty divide of any life form, so we thought. We saw a little podium, it was made out of marble. We thought it was just a regular pillar until it suddenly shattered into pieces revealing a bear. The bear had a half and half situation. One side he is white, polar white, he looked innocent and friendly, the other half was black and it looked like the face someone would make if they committed something horrible. “Ohh up up upoo! Wow it’s so nice to meet you in this wonderful town!”, we all looked really confused, we never heard a bear talk before, suddenly someone spoke up, a boy wearing a brown leather vest, white poofy pants, and silver keys, “hey you! How can you talk!? You’re a bear!” “Oh I can do many things! Talking is just the tip of the ice berg!”. We were confused on all beliefs, what else could he do, why would he do those things, how can he do those things? “Well you probably wonder why I brought you here, I have a question. Do you remember what happened during the lightning?”, we all knew what to say but yet we still can’t even muffle it out, like someone’s controlling us. The bear was loosing his patience clearly, “really! You idiots don’t remember! Man if I had a nickel for every time someone here was stupid I could have bought better town folks than you pieces of mule dung”. I knew he is a very weird type, he could be very nice yet very mean in seconds.

He takes out a top hat and puts it on his stubby little head “well let’s get to business. Do you want to get out of this town, away from me?” We all nodded, “welp I have some good news, there is a chance for most of you to survive! It gonna cost yah though, cost yah a fine.” We all wondered what he meant, “okay so here is the rules on how to escape. First of all you need to kill someone, I cannot allow no person to be killed” someone interrupts him, it was a little girl about 3’9, very small, she had a jester like suits on and a frilled dress, “why do we need to kill someone? That’s horrible! I don’t want to do it!”, the bear started to look sadistic “well if you don’t want to kill someone that’s fine but someone’s gotta do it, and they gotta pay their fine. Every murderer needs to.” We all started to sweat heavily “but don’t worry, live your lives, one of you won’t make it out, trust me.” The bear opens a crate revealing a bunch of papers “these are your wills! There is a map of which house you get. There will be no roommates, keep that in mind.” We all grabbed our wills from the crate. This is gonna sure be interesting, and...scary.

[thatweirdmod]

Beriphitar’s Pillage 1

A cigarette leaks smoke from the corner of my frown as I work, hacking the neglected path clear again with my machete. My garden bed should be back here. I grow all kinds of things.

There's magenta irilis which gives my "snacks" and snacks their unique, fresh, lovely flavor. It also adds a nice touch of color, I think. Then there's the weight pullers: tall, weedy drogul plants, harsh smelling buds of grengis, and the innocent looking but deceptively potent white composite flowers, yequin.

Don't wanna remember all that? Don't worry; all you need to know is that they're drugs and drug enhancers, and people want what I harvest out here. It's a mixed bag, this business. It gets me into all sorts of mess with people, but I wouldn't do it, you know, unless it payed the bills.

And it does that, really well in fact. I huff I sigh into the humid air, grateful that at least it's relatively cool, and I'm finally through. I look over the state of my garden, and observe, unsurprised, that the rest of the evening must be spent weeding.

The middle class in my town is probably what's called riffraff elsewhere, and whether we're farmers, craftsmen, or prostitutes, we spend much of our time bent over.

I stretch occasionally when my back aches. I wonder if it's normal for a guy my age to have back and shoulder pain at rest, though. I grit my teeth and shrug it off when it happens, because it's not like it's a surprise, for how long I've been working the land.

Despite all the violence, dishonesty and threats I have to contend with in my line of work, I love this time after I've finished doing something. I feel small yet accomplished as I look up at the starry night sky, unpolluted and uncontested by city lights. On the ground, darkness, dirt, leaves and chirping surround me. I'm alone in the most perfect sense, but then I have to go back home into the residential district of town.

I trudge out of the woods, tired and hungry by now, and looking forward to getting home. I hop on my scooter. I'd call it something like "Trusty Rusty", but even though it's old, I take care of my things, so it's not rusty at all. I buzz down town, taking the back roads so I don't really run into anyone. My house is modest, but comfortable. Some dust can't be helped out here, but I've put my foot down against mildew, stains, and muck.

I strip out of my rough, dirt-crusted pants and torn shirt, enjoy a hot shower, and put on some fresh clothes. As I'm enjoying my warm meal, a knock sounds on my door.

I open up in my boxers and shabby grey t-shirt, with my usual lazy-eyed, irreverent expression.

"What do you want?", I ask the guy standing there.

We're friends, I guess, but only because I lack a better word. Reyfon scratches his messy brown hair and laughs lightly.

"I came to talk to you about that thing."

His thick glasses and somewhat shy demeanor would kind of suggest and innocent young man, but many of his actions paint a corrupted picture.

Truth is, I totally forgot about whatever event we have planned, but I just say, "Okay", like I was planning on him showing up at my doorstep in the middle of my beans and rice.

He steps in on his nervously light feet. I watch as he does a brief, sweeping glance over my home. I never say anything, but man, do I hate it when people evaluate and scrutinize me or my stuff like that. Reyfon smiles. "Looks like you're still your usual neat self."

"It hasn't been that long", I reply.

"Yeah, I guess so", he says. "Maybe a couple of weeks?"

"I bet you've had your hands even fuller than mine", I say.

"Yeah. It feels pretty hectic adjusting to the influx of tourists, no matter how many summers I spend at the brewery."

Reyfon comes from a family of artisans- brewers. While I haven't particularly missed him, I have missed the free beer. I look down and sure enough, I see one of the reasons why I always graciously pardon his intrusions into my home. "Oh", he says, lifting up the paper bag once he notices my eyes have locked on it. "Here."

I immediately take it, put it on the table, and unpack the assortment of pricey drinks, darks, lights, ales, ambers, et cetera. Needless to say, I'm very pleased. "Thanks", I say, then pause. "I suppose you want me to thank you some other way as well."

Reyfon smirks and nods. I'll have to help him again. "You know my father's health has been declining", he begins.

"Yeah."

"More and more of the responsibilities for the business have come down to me, my older brother, and kid sister." Then he scoffs, "Well, mostly me and Veralia. Yet, according to the tradition of favoring the eldest, the one to inherit the brewery will be Theorion. You know my brother, arrogant and lazy, and worse, incompetent and irresponsible. It wouldn't 100% be up to him even if he were the owner, but with enough poor decisions and investments, he could end up making a mess of generations of our family's hard work. So please, help rid us of this pest."

I grow tense, and hold up my hand. "Hold on. This sounds pretty serious. Knocking off some poor scrubs from the west side of hick town is simple, something nobody cares too much about. But now you're asking me to help kill the heir of a wealthy business. Everyone knows you guys around here, and whatever happens to him, it will thoroughly investigated."

"I know it's too much to ask as a friend, so on my word, you will be compensated generously", Reyfon says.

So far, I'm not too keen on this, but that word, "generously" hangs in the air tantalizingly.

"Do you even have a plan yet?", I ask.

"I was hoping you could take care of everything on that front. Of course, though, I'll provide whatever inside info you might need."

"I'm taking a huge risk here, hitting such a prominent target, but how much would you be willing to give me for this?"

"How does 10,000 buckaroos sound?"

"Nice try. This could break my life, so I need enough money to make it if this goes well. 20,000 buckaroos."

Reyfon cringes a little, but says, "Okay. I'll pay you after it's done."

I frown. "You think you're the one of us who trusts the other less? Who's at the other's mercy? You'll pay me before, or there's no way I'm doing shit."

"Hey, it doesn't have to be like that", he says. "How about a compromise? I pay 10,000 upfront, and the other half after it's done."

"15,000 up front."

"Fine. So you'll do it, then?"

I pause for a moment. "Yeah."

"Great", Reyfon says with a small smile, sighing in relief, as if assassinating his brother were an innocent request like any other. "I should be going then. Enjoy the brews. This could earn you a lifetime supply, Beriphitar."

With that, he left, leaving me standing, trying to keep myself from slowly being overwhelmed by what the fuck I'd just agreed to do. Nothing was set it writing. I could still back out, but I feel that that would be unacceptable for me. But then I get another idea. If I'm going to do something like this, if I'm going to take this kind of risk, might as well go all out. It seems like Reyfon can pay me, easily, whenever this gets done. That makes me suspect that the Greyhorns have a lot of cash sitting around.

The next day, Reyfon meets me at my house again. He answers all my questions not only without hesitation, but with enthusiasm. As far as he is concerned, we're in the process of turning his scheme into reality. At the end, I know the schedules of the inhabitants of the house, their maids, and Reyfon even gives me a detailed map of the layout of the house when I ask where his brother's bedroom is.

For better or worse, Reyfon decides that he should be out during the assassination. Actually, it's for the better.

The next night, I lie on my stomach in the dark, rich carpet soft against my chin. Reyfon graciously left the back door unlocked after he left this evening. I came in, went up two flights of stairs to Theorion's room, or chambers if you will, because it's like a whole pad in here- a big personal bathroom, dining and sitting area, and bedroom. I've been camped under his bed for like two hours, waiting for him to come back, hopefully alone.

I snap into tenseness when I hear whoozy female giggling and a good mooded, but douchey male voice approaching. Figures a fuckboy would be bringing a girl back with him. No matter. I prepared for the possibility of having to dispatch multiple targets quickly and silently, but maybe I should've hidden in the closet. Getting out is going to be awkward.

The door opens. "I wanna see that awesome shower you were telling me about!" The girl says. Theorion replies, "Yeah, well how about I give you a tour?" Their flirty tone and words are obviously telling of plans for a shower fuck, a way to bang that's highly overrated in the movies, but pretty good for me now.

Once they've rather stupidly sexy walked into the bathroom while swaying and groping, I start slipping out from under the bed. The bathroom is further down the wall, to my left. They left the door open, but cannot see me as I siddle along the wall towards it. Before they get in, or even have a chance to scream, I've swung out into the doorway, and fired a shot from my silenced pistol.

The pop goes off, and a bullet zips through the air, hitting its marks with beautiful precision. You see, I caught the love birds in a smooch, the guy's back to me. The bullet punches through the back of his head, and then tears through the front of hers. The blood and matter of two brains splatter, making a rather jarring contrast against the clean white and beige rugs, marble floor, and counter. I doubt very much that those were the kind of fluids they were planning on exchanging tonight.

I look up from their toppled bodies, and damn, that shower is pretty awesome. It's massive for one, and.. ah fuck it; this is not what I'm here for. I walk over to them. They'd make a pretty cute couple, just, not exactly like this. I shuffle through the guy's pockets and pull out his wallet. Very nice. The girl doesn't have anything worthwhile in her skirt pockets, but she's got something in the skirt.

According to Reyfon's info, I should have plenty of time. His sister's out having drinks with friends. His dad is emaciating in the hospital, and his mom is dead. So, I decide to help myself to what Theorion was about to have anyway. I brush the girl's wavy brown hair out of her face. It's sticky with the blood that's pouring out of the hole in her head and dripping down her face. Her hazel eyes are closed, her face didn't have time to contort into horror or surprise, so it's stranglely peaceful despite her undue and random end. She was pretty, well is, for all intents and purposes at the moment.

Ugh, it's like stripping a hundred pound sack of meat. Actually, it's exactly that. The human body is really a pain to move when it's dead weight. Getting my own clothes off only takes like 10 seconds. I stand buck naked in the bathroom with two dead bodies. I was mocking it earlier, but I drag the girl into the walk in shower anyway. I turn it on and warm water sprays from a marble seal's mouth. I flop the chick over the marble shower seat, kneel, and start pumping her from behind. It's only been minutes since she died, so her vag is still very warm.

Once I finish enjoying myself, I turn the shower off, dry myself with a towel, and get dressed again. I check my watch. It's only been 15 minutes since I killed Reyfon's older brother and his squeeze. My head is wonky. I can't remember whether I was supposed to leave the bodies or dispose of them.

I rush back over to the bed, and pull out the three bags that I brought with me. I pillage the house, rummaging through drawers, closets, and cabinets favoring speed only slightly more than precision. My last stop ends up being Reyfon's chambers. My 3rd bag is still empty.

After swiping a couple of snazzy watches and 200 buckaroos from around his room, I check under his bed. Sure enough, there are a couple of chests. They're locked, but I prepared for this. After being pried open with my crowbar, the chests reveal their treasure.

In one of them are various trinkets, an old scarf, a few journals, letters, papers- it seems to be a bunch of sentimentals mixed with important documents. The other contains cash, likely a lot of the money Reyfon was planning on paying to me. Upon looking through the bills appreciatively, something beneath the neatly bundled stacks catches my eye- five gold bars curtained beneath. Oh, I love this boy.

I pack the remaining bag, and just for the heck of it, I throw one of Reyfon's personal journals in. I never considered myself the gossipy sort, but who doesn't find it at least a little entertaining to stumble across the juicy secrets of someone they know? I sling my booty over my shoulders, make sure my mask is in place, and head on out of the house. Trusty Rusty is parked a block away.

I mount the scooter and buzz away into the temperate night. First thing I'll do later is buy a new bike, and a car too. This thing has been reliable, and I know how to fix it up, but I could have to make some serious distance, and I can already feel it slowing beneath me under the weight of my goods.

Reyfon plans to head back into his house, find the horrific scene and call the police. He plans to give an account, enjoy the sympathies, gifts and attention he will get as the victim of such a horrific tragedy, and prosper from here on out as the head of the brewery.

I park my bike at the dirt strip around the back of my little house called the backyard. I dip inside to drop off the bags, clean up, and change clothes. Taking my crowbar with me. Reyfon is hanging around a bar in town. I'm supposed to make an appearance there, so he knows that it has been done, but we're not to interact.

When I enter, he notices me immediately. He's probably been watching the door, scanning every patron that comes in. He turns back to his beer as soon as he sees who it is. Reyfon's eyes are clear; he's likely just been nursing that one drink this whole time. If he was gonna come to the bar as an alibi, then he should've at least made an effort to appear more casual about it, and maybe have brought a friend, and had a good time.

Thankfully, this bar also serves food. So while Reyfon is paying, I order a cheese sandwich and have them put it in paper lunch bag for me. I can leave shortly after he does, without looking too weird for not staying and drinking. I tail behind him as he walks down the street. I can tell he's nervous by the way his glasses constantly seem to need readjusting, and the paranoid glances back that I have to keep dodging.

He veers off eventually, into the shortcut through a patch woods that leads to the backyard of his family's mansion. It's here that I pounce. I remove the crowbar from my toolbelt rush forward. I hear him gasp at the sudden sound of feet rushing towards him. The crowbar hits just as his head finishes swiveling around, and his eyes see his attacker. After the big, dull thud he crumples to the ground, twitching a bit, but barely conscious.

As I bash his skull in, a few thoughts will pass through his brain before it mashes, asking why I've betrayed him. The answer? We are living in a material world, and I am a material boy. Hey, you wanna hear another quote? "People work together when it suits 'em. They're loyal when it suits 'em, love each other when it suits 'em, and they kill each other when it suits 'em." I get it, he didn't. And that's why he couldn't hold onto his life.

Reyfon's blood splatters onto my tattered beige work pants. After I finish and catch my breath, I observe. The face of the only person I ever really hung out with has been crushed into a bloody pulp of flesh that looks like fresh ground beef and bone chips. Frgaments of glass and pieces of the black frame from the young man's familiar glasses are mushed into the mess.

Something must be wrong with me to have such a compulsion, but my dick was out, hard, and being rubbed by my hand before I processed what was happening. My hand.. it's slippery with his blood, and it feels so good like this. I pleasure myself, looking down blankly at the battered corpse, lying on its stomach. I probably wouldn't even be able to tell that it was him if I found him like this.

My white, hot cum bursts forth onto the ground between his legs. I sigh and put my penis away, slightly dizzy from all the exertion of today. Brown leather peeks out from the back pocket of his blue jeans. Like an idiot, he kept his wallet there. I slip it out, take his cash, then throw the wallet onto his body.

I walk back home, mostly through the woods so as to be seen as little as possible. I pack one small bag with a few clothes and hygienics. Four bags carried by one guy on a scooter is pushing it, but I want to leave town right now. Then I realize while packing how suspicious all of this looks. Three members of a rich family in a small town are gruesomely murdered, and the house is robbed.

And me, I suddenly skip town, abandoning my drug business, my house, and my land. Where did I get the money to up and leave all of the sudden, and why would I do that on the night of the murders? I should stay, hide the stolen stuff, and wait out the investigation for a couple weeks to a month. Before leaving, I should tell a few people,

"This town is just getting worse by the year. We've had scuffles in the trailerpark and occasional killings among druggies, but for something like this to happen to the Greyhorns... Even I worry. And Reyfon and I, you know, we went back a few years."

Yeah, something like that should be good. It doesn't come across as too on the nose, and it foreshadows my leaving. Others will leave too after this, I'm sure, because the kind of violence that occurred tonight isn't often heard of here. It'll shake folks, myself included, heh.

So if some gumshoe finds their way around to asking about me, like, "That dealer Beriphitar was a friend of the youngest son's wasn't he? He left soon after, didn't he?" the downtown scrubs will answer, "Looks like even he got worried. He was racking up a little that might'a been worth stealin' himself ya know. Not so tough, just a boy trying to carve out a living in a town that turned out to be rougher than he was ready for."

With that, I put my clothes back. I put the bags of stolen money and valuables into plastic trash bags, then take then out to my garden- on foot mind you, because the noise of the scooter at this hour would an overly obvious deviation from my usual routine.

There would be nothing strange about overturned soil in a garden, especially not with fresh crops on top. When I'm done, the bags are safely hidden under about a foot of dirt. Just so you know, the lawmen won't want to tear this place up anyway because of the drugs. What I'm doing is perfectly legal here.

By the time I get back home, it's the middle of the night. That girl seems even hotter now that I'm remembering her in my tiny shower. My tired brain spins a fantasy of her, Reyfon, and Theorion. Reyfon is sandwiched in the middle, Theorion plowing his dirty asshole from behind while he penetrates the girl's dripping pussy. The three move harder and faster, until the illusion comes to its climax, and my jizz sprays the shower wall.

"Sandwiched" though, that word reminds me that I have a perfect good cheese sandwich just left on the counter. I eat it on the way to bed, and then sleep sweetly. With the day that I had, I'm not sure if I'd be able to tell dream from memory.

I wake up to birds chirping, a sour mouth, and the pleasant brightness that comes from having one's home so close to nature. Then I smile little, when I think of the chaos that must be unfolding uptown. Lawmen like buzzards circling my crime scene, Veralia, distraught, shocked, and hungover, and Reyfon's father- I wonder if the news has made it to his hospital bed? At this point, they might as well spare the old man and let him die in peace if possible.

I climb out of bed, have one of the craft beers that Reyfon gave me for breakfast, and then brush my teeth. Over the next two weeks, I follow my plans. I attend the Greyhorn funerals, tell a few people that I'm thinking about leaving town, and sell my land and house.

The lawmen took me aside once to ask me questions. "Did you see anyone strange around town?" et cetera. My answer was simply, "No Sir."

On the day that I was packing my bags again to get on Trusty Rusty and leave town, a beautiful gift delivered herself right to my door. It was Veralia, Reyfon's suffering brunette sister who'd been becoming increasingly irresistable to me the more I saw of her.

Her entire immediate family was either dead, murdered, or dying. It had become unthinkable for her to even stay in her own house; the emptiness and the memories of what had happened, of what she'd seen there, were too much. I heard she currently lived with an aunt in the next town over, so imagine my surprise to see her at my hovel.

Her eyes were sunken, though puffy from what could have been her hundreth bout of tears, and filled with pain. She looked lost, like so many others who'd come to me, and I so then I knew why she was here. She had to find something good in her overwhelming plight.

"I know", she began quietly and not meeting my eyes, "That my brother used to buy leaves and stuff from you." She dug into her pockets and pulled out some crumpled bills. Veralia stretched the money out to me. "Yes", I said softly and with an air of consideration. "I was closing down shop, but please, come in and you can select what you want from what I still have."

There's hardly any stock remaining, since I lowered prices and had been doing a lot of peddling to get it off my hands,but I'm glad I left some. Turns out, Veralia doesn't know a cow from a cat when it comes to drugs, so when I show her my stuff she just says, "I don't know. Just give me something to... stop it." Her face twitches like she's going to collapse into tears, but she holds back.

Her ignorance doesn't matter anyway, because I was partially lying about the effects and the types of drugs anyway. I dope her up as she asks. The drugs take her mind to another world, while I take her body. She moans and pushes me away weakly, but she barely knows what's going on, and she sure won't remember any of this. I strip off her clothes and pound her. I finger her, stick my dick in her slit and her mouth, and rub it against her thighs, pussy and then her asshole before fucking that too. I roughly grope her breasts, then use her vag to finish, shoving my dick in harder and harder, faster and faster, until she wimpers a little even in her drugged state.

Once I get off, she just lays on my living room carpet by the coffee table, almost completely out of it. I think I'll relax for a while before redressing her, but upon having another look at her perky pair of tits and tight pussy soaked with my semen, I decide I'll have a second helping.

I turn her over and splay her legs before me again, completely exposing her genitals to my salacious gaze. I rub her privates, and roughly violate her asshole with two and then three of my fingers. I push my penis inside her body again. She moans sleepily and her hands reach up to swat around above her as I continue raping her- sometimes anally, sometimes vaginally. Her vision is blurry, I know, so she can hardly see me. Veralia's confused, and I feel her thighs pressing up against my hands as she makes makes feeble attempts to close her legs. I come all over her genitalia and asshole.

I wipe her up and put her clothes back on. I finish packing as I was before she came, hop on my scooter, and leave town. Buzzing down the roads to the north, cool wind blowing at my hair and jacket, cargo over my shoulders- I must say I've never felt this free in my life. I've done just as I've pleased, and now I have thousands of buckaroos in cash, gold, and valuables, and a new life of ahead. Life has finally gone my way.

I'm living my own dream as my own man.

[criquette-was-here]

Some more replies

Anonymous said:

Wait.wait.wait..You're playing on a Mac?! How do you get such good graphics?! I own 2015 MacBook Air will the graphics hold up like yours? If it will, mate I'm definitely putting the sims again on it! Dude your works are ammmaaaazzingg lookin'             

Hey Anon! Thanks! Yes, I’m on mid 2011 Macbook Pro, idk. It’s not that great actually. The reflections are lame, sim shadows and rugs are glitchy, so.. Can’t be bothered since I rarely play the game, but rather just make hood decos for it. Once in a while I just enjoy creating test sims and mess around with them for awhile. 

Anonymous said:

Hey there! Did you finally make it to duplicate those invisible greengarden roofs? I was extremelly amazed by the neat look of that house you shared (like everything you do btw) Sorry for my bad english!      

Hey! Nope, not yet. The thing looks so miserable in winter snow, that I’ve ditched it for a while. Too demotivating.        

Anonymous said:

You're neighborhood is so beautiful!!             

Oh, thank you!! :D Anonymous said:

Damn everything looks so beautiful! Its so charming :O How do you make those lots like the community garden, i mean are they roadless? or did you just erase the road tiles?

Oh, thank you, anon! I have a quest for you! Spot ‘the real’ maxis road in the very first screenshot of this post! ;) The post itself also explains everything.

@thesaimitigh​ said:

Привет Крикет! Я надеюсь, ничего если я на русском спрошу? Хотелось бы узнать: планируешь ли ты выпустить кусочки дороги с наклоном, как из твоего rural lane set? Я видел их на более давних скринах и они бы очень пригодились в градостроительстве. Заранее спасибо за ответ))  

Привет @thesaimitigh​! Вообще без проблем! План сделать набор наклонных кусочков к релизу я так и не осилил, поскольку в идеале нужны и тротуары, и однополосные кусочки. Если повезет, то когда-нибудь получится сделать их в качестве дополнения! Правда как скоро это будет – не известно. То что ты видел на совсем старых скринах – скорее куски дороги, адаптированной к террайну в рамках проекта городка “Тайм” и они совершенно бесполезны за пределами своего изначального предназначения (проверено на личном опыте). 

@thesaimitigh​ is asking if I have any plans to release sloped pieces for the Rural Charm roads like the ones that appear on some of my old screenshots. I’m replying that I’ve failed to create sloped pieces for the main Rural Charm release due to huge amount of work it requires though it still hope to release them as an add-on at some point in the future. What he saw in the old screenshots was some large decorative road pieces from Thyme project and they are useless beyond its purpose.

Anonymous said:

Will you ever release a decorated version of one of your hoods? Because I might actually cry of happiness if you do

And another Anonymous said:

Will you ever share a neighborhood fully decorated?            

Too much pressure! I might just delete my simblr and go cry in the corner. LOL Just kidding! XD I hope to release a predecorated neighborhood at some point this year. It’s not gonna be Zagoskin or Vervainwort, but there will be canals, bridges, embankments and everything you like about these towns!

@bigwands said:

How do you make the streets so realistic and not grid-y in your neighbourhoods? The screenshots in your pretty roof post are drool-worthy. 

The secret is in decorative roads! I just place all the roads by hand as I see it. When I just move the lot I want to be situated on the non grid looking road to it’s new place with Lot Adjuster.

Anonymous said:

Hi, criquette! I simply adore your work! Thank you for giving us so many goodies! I was wondering whether you'd be willing to share your lot skirt water square thing? :)

Oh wow! Hey anon! I’m really surprised by this request! :D Here it is!

Anonymous said:

Hi! I have no questions! Just wanted to drop in and say I love seeing your world but I am also continually devastated every time I realise it's for ts2 rather than ts3.  Don't suppose you'll ever make the jump to ts3?  Nonetheless - just a million gold stars for you and keep up the incredible work (for as long as it's fun for you)!!! X   

Ahh, I got you there, anon! ;D Thank you for being so kind! But no, I’ll stick with TS2 forever. Though I always looking forward to see TS3 creators converting my items for their needs and I will always give them my permission to do so! @lookanothersimsblog said:

Hey there! I don't know if you found a solution to the floating roads in neighborhood view yet (that z-axis clipping thing). I am playing in Phaenoh's Pleasantly Thriving Neighborhood and I just noticed there is a road piece that is lower than the rest. That might be an interesting thing to look into and maybe you are able to reproduce it. And one more thing: Thanks for being part of the Sims 2 Community!             

Hey there! No, I didn’t found the solution yet, but thank you for this information! I think it could be the result of road replacement or any other neirghborhood terrain manipulation. I’m sure once you edit the terrain or place a lot near this area, the road will reset to it’s normal Maxis’ floating height. What I really want to do is to change something in the game to make roads appear closer to the terrain at the very basic level. I mean, no post neighborhood creation edits, no manipulations, just the road that lies on the ground from the very beginning.

Anonymous said:

Hello! I really like your SC4 Vervainwort terrain, but it isin't showing up in my game even though i have both of the files in the SC4 folder. Is there a way I can fix this?             

And:

Criquette, it's the sc4 anon. I am so sorry for being a blind idiot, cause after scroling the sc4 list like 10 times I finally found it. Sorry for bothering you.     

Hello anon! Oh, that’s my fault! I’m sure the name of the map that appears in the game is different to Vervainwort!  >.<      NB: I have also two anon asks about certain neighborhood map creation aspects, but these require a separate post with some explanations and probably screenshots! I’ll answer those little bit later ;Ъ

[meliecho]

The 1K - an original sci-fi story

The 1K

by Meliecho

Story Summary:

1,000 children between the ages of 6-18 are abducted from Earth mere hours before the turn of the 21st century, and scattered across the galaxy in order to preserve their lives, their planet, and a precious hope the galaxy so severely needs. William Kade and Terra Kitridge are two of these children. This is their story, and the story of how they are used to further a last-ditch plan of desperation to end a 2,000 year war between the two major galactic powers.

Chapter 1

chapter summary: 

William Kade always dreamed of traveling to space. However, his and 999 other kids's lives are changed dramatically when an unknown alien race kidnaps them hours before the turn of the 21st century.

Chapter 1

December 18th, 1999. Ohio. Earth…

The chunky television in the living room played a news report through the old farmhouse.

“What’s out there? No one really knows. Man has speculated for centuries, mapped our star system, named the planets, and created gods in order to explain the vastness surrounding our blue world.”

Will watched from the round dinner table through the archway between the rooms. He shoveled a spoonful of Mac and Cheese into his mouth, barely registering the fact that it was food and not just a simple motion. The ten-year-old’s attention rested solely on the screen. His big brown eyes took in every frame.

“We look up at the stars, we listen to Carl Sagan’s speak of the cosmos, and study Stephen Hawking’s discoveries. We dream about what we might encounter among the billions of stars burning in the heavens, and we send satellites into orbit and beyond to be our eyes and ears into the unknown. The Hubble telescope has already shown us incredible images we would never have otherwise witnessed. Why? Because we are earthbound. But although we are young, we are curious and brave. In the words of Carl Sagan, ‘We wish to pursue the truth no matter where it leads. But to find the truth, we need imagination and skepticism both. We will not be afraid to speculate, but we will be careful to distinguish speculation from fact.’

“That is what drives the path-finding team of scientists and engineers at NASA. With the invention of the new Solar Nexus - a net of satellites in high orbit maintained by the International Space Station--, we can harness energy from our sun to power the world’s first inter-system ship. This ship will be capable of transporting not only goods and machinery to our closest neighbor, Mars, but transporting people, and someday, be the vessel that leads us into a new age of a lunar colony and life among the stars.

“The prototype --the Nova Star-- will be open to the public at Cape Canaveral for only one day. Scientists, astronomers, and space enthusiasts from all over the world will gather to get an up-close-and-personal look...at the future of mankind.

“Join us on New Years Eve for a live broadcast as we take you on a tour of Earth’s first inter-system vessel, and usher in the new millennium--”

The picture winked out.

“Dad,” Will whined, “I was watching that.”

“It’s daydreams and nonsense,” his father flicked the paper, folded it, and rested it by his own plate.

“It’s cool! We can have a space ship! We can explore the galaxy and be like Indiana Jones, but in space!”

“Indiana Jones fought Nazis. Not aliens,” his father countered.

“We don’t know that. Those face-melting angels were probably aliens. They went after the Nazis all like, ‘Rawr!’ And they were all like, ‘wuuaaah! Blaarrrgg!’” Will dragged his fingers down his face, making guttural sounds and pretending to melt into a puddle of goo.

“No face melting at the table,” his mother chided gently. “It’s hard to get out of the carpet.”

Will stopped the dramatics of a grim death-by-ancient-relic, and went back to eating. “Can we watch it on New Years Eve?”

“We always watch Dick Clark. It’s a tradition.”

“Yeah, but,” Will’s voice huffed with the blandness of repetition, “this is cooler than an old man! It’s space! Please, dad?”

“Charlie, let’s watch it,” his mother nudged her husband in the side. “Even if the space ship doesn’t work out, I have to admit it is pretty neat. Like when Kirk landed the Enterprise in the middle of San Francisco.”

Charlie rolled his eyes. He knew his wife was a sci-fi nerd, but he’d hoped she’d at least settle down some after Will was born. Thanks to her, he now knows most of the script to Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home, and Star Wars IV, V, and VI.

“See? Mom gets it,” the young boy gave a cocky smile in victory. “Oh! I forgot. Last night, I picked up that weird signal again over the radio.”

“I listened to it once already. It’s white noise.” Charlie said.

“No it’s not! There’s a weird blippy pattern to it.” Will spoke around a mouthful of macaroni and cheese. “Noise is all ‘kkkrrrrr!’ This was all ‘kkkrr beep boop bleep!’ and something that sounds like a million people talking at once. I read that stars emit radio waves. Maybe this was--”

“Noise.”

“It wasn’t noise!”

“I was a member of the US Signal Corp for 20 years. When I gave you my old CB radio, I wanted you to learn how to navigate the airwaves. Not keep your head in the clouds.” He picked up the paper. “Besides. If it’s that important, the boys at NASA probably already picked it up. If it’s something of serious importance, I’d have gotten a call.”

“You were their best decoder, dad. Can you listen to it again? Please?”

“Leave it alone, Will.”

Will reached over for the remote, but his dad smacked his hand away with the paper. He grumbled, pouted, and said, “Whatever. Not like you’d believe me anyway.”

“Will,” his mother scolded.

Charlie leaned forward. “Repeat yourself, son. I don’t think I heard that,” but by his tone, the muffled slight clearly reached him.

Will glanced up to his dad, but kept his mouth shut.

Charlie reclined back in the chair again. “That’s what I thought. Go to your room.”

Will’s jaw dropped. “But--”

“Now!”

Silenced, Will slammed the spoon against the plate. The chair scratched against the old cube-print linoleum floor as his feet thundered up the stairs. The sound of his bedroom door slamming against its frame echoed downstairs.

Molly sighed. “Every time. Why can’t you two get along?”

“We have to fix the problems here on the ground before we go looking for problems out there,” Charlie’s face softened. “He needs to understand that. If we can’t fix ourselves, we can’t go anywhere.”

“It’s because NASA built the ship, isn’t it,” she uttered softly, knowing full well she was treading on emotional hot coals. “It’s been three years. When are you going to let this go?”

“Hughs is an idiot if he thinks this will work. He doesn’t see the big picture. He never did.” Charlie dropped the paper onto the round kitchen table -- signaling that the conversation was over --, picked up the remote, and moved to the living room recliner to watch a football game.

Molly picked up her son’s half-finished dinner. “Maybe letting him dream is a way to fix ourselves.” She covered his plate in plastic wrap and stuck it in the refrigerator. Her son could down twice this much food in one sitting. He would be hungry later.

* * * *

Will turned on his small t.v., picked up his SNES controller, and dropped cross-legged on the floor surrounded by dirty clothes strewn across the rug. The sounds of Super Mario World covered the silence. Snow drifted lazily to the ground outside the window, so he couldn’t go lay out on a blanket in the backyard like he usually would and get lost staring up at the stars. Well, he could, but he didn’t want to get pneumonia before Christmas.

He abandoned Blue Yoshi at the Star Road bonus level and shut off the game. Curious and a little bored, he turned on the old military radio and worked the dials carefully. He listened through monitor headphones too big for his head for a half hour before finally tossing them onto his desk in frustration. Nothing. Maybe his dad was right. Maybe it was just noise.

----

December 31st, 1999. New Years Eve…

Y2K theories had circulated for years. No one knew where it started, but the concept that the Earth’s fledgling internet, and every digital system on the planet would shut down frightened some enough into preparing for Dooms Day. Most people shrugged it off and went about their lives. Others feared the global shut down would set off every nuclear weapon on the planet, wiping out humanity. But everyone knew that instant ramen manufacturers had never seen a greater profit rise in the entirety of their companies’ existence.

Will didn’t buy into any of that, no matter how much the old people in their small town ranted about the end of days. He was sure the clocks would just turn over, and that would be it. He and his mother had gone to the local market to pick up a few groceries, but found that the apocalypse preppers had bought all the milk, most of the meat, a ton of non perishable goods, and first aid.

Frustrated, she purchased what she could, and made the trip in their SUV to the next town. Fortunately, they fared a little better. They enjoyed lunch at a local Denny’s, and made it home to have an uneventful night

That is, until 11pm rolled around.

Will was over the back of the couch in seconds, and had the t.v. tuned into the news. The reporter had just started going on about the details of the Nova Star. Will was entranced. He was so excited, he’d put on his long sleeved black henley with a small NASA logo to feel like he was part of it. “This is awesome! Hey, dad, aren’t those the guys you worked with?”

“Some of them. There’s some new faces.” Charlie put on his jacket and went to the backyard to chop wood. He’d tried to let his son enjoy this, but he didn’t want to have anything to do with the Nova Star project anymore, not even watching them parade their work to the media.

Molly sat next to her son with a bowl of popcorn. Will didn’t hesitate to take a massive handful and shove it into his mouth as he watched the tour of the Nova Star begin.

With everything that her only child held an interest in --video games, computers, that old radio-- they had their shared love of space, and Indiana Jones.

The media crew had lead their viewers through the cockpit and down to the living quarters of the ship, showing off all of the exciting wonders of the newest space-faring technology when all the lights in the house went out. It plunged the remote homestead into darkness.

The shock of sudden darkness sent fear spearing up Will’s spine. He knocked over the popcorn bowl and curled up around a pillow.

“Molly? Everything all right?” Charlie called in through the back door.

“We’re fine!” Molly called back.

“I’m checking the fuse box. Bring a light!”

“I’ll be right there!” She brushed her hand over Will’s hair. “It’s ok, Will, it’s just a power outage. Probably a tree branch took out a power line. It happens in winter.” She knew that even though he could pick up almost any insect, amphibian, and fearlessly explore the areas around their house, the only thing that would terrify him was complete and absolute darkness.

She felt her way to the kitchen to get a spare flashlight out of the junk drawer and handed it to him. He turned it on.

“Guard the house, Indiana. I’ll be right back.” Molly ruffled his dark hair and got a second flashlight and her coat from the entryway closet. She went out back to help her husband check the fuse box.

Molly held the flashlight as her husband flicked all the switches.

“Well, the fuses check out. There’s just no power,” Charlie threw each switch again for good measure.

“I was right. It was probably a downed tree.” She turned off the light and walked out to the backyard. She folded her arms tightly around her middle for warmth. Without the convection layer of clouds, it made being outside that much colder.

Charlie put his arm around her. “So much for New Years Eve; Dick Clark, spaceships, or otherwise.”

Her eyes rested on the arm of the Milky Way galaxy draping through the center of the clear night sky. “You know, without all the lights, it’s really beautiful.”

Charlie exhaled. “Yeah.”

“What arm are we in again?”

“The Orion-Cygnus arm. We’re not facing the core of the galaxy right now, but we will in summer.”

“Will comes out here, you know. He’ll sit out here and just stare.”

“Mmhmm. You used to do that as a kid, too. He gets his love of space from you.”

“No,” she shook her head. “He gets his love of nerd stuff from me. He gets his sense of adventure from you.”

He chuckled at that. “A hell of a combination.”

“Well, look who he’s combined from,” she smirked.

He chuckled at that.

“Maybe the new century is a good time to start a new resolution. Start off small. Who knows what he can do if we let him.”

“Molly…”

“He’s smart, Charlie. Work with him. Take him to NASA. If you want him to see the world that you think needs fixing, then show him. He might be the one to fix it, but he needs you. As smart as he is, he can’t do it alone.” She brushed her hand down his face, feeling the stubble of facial hair beneath her palm. “None of us can.”

Charlie grumbled. NASA’s headquarters wasn’t a place for kids, but she was right. It was part of the real world, and Will needed to see it. “Fine. I’ll take him after the holidays. But if anybody asks, this was your idea.”

She smiled and leaned in closely. “I’ll take full responsibility.”

He couldn’t help but kiss her and run his fingers through her long black hair. That gentle smile always warmed his heart.

The two stared up at the sky for a moment before she shivered and nudged her husband to head back.

A pulse of red light struck them in the back, and Charlie and Molly fell to the snow.

* * * *

Will scooted off the couch, keeping a vice grip on the flashlight. This was his home -- he’d lived here since birth -- but in the darkness, it felt like he’d entered another realm.

The house creaked around him. He spun, looking for whatever made that sound, then shook his head. “Get a grip, you dumb dork.”

A light static and crackle split the deathly silence. He aimed his flashlight at the stairs and swallowed. That sounded like his radio. He should check it out. Indiana Jones wouldn’t run away.

Will’s feet didn’t move for a good ten seconds.

Stealing his resolve, he went upstairs to his room.

The green light of the radio exuded a dull, eerie glow throughout the room. What scared him more were the sounds coming from the radio itself. Without power, the light shouldn’t be on, let alone the radio receiving a signal. His heart pounding with fear, but his curiosity overpowering it, he turned the knob to clarify the signal. The electronic beeps were still present, but were more like morse code than before. He could pick out different letters, enough to hear ‘246. Kade,’ but any speech in the background remained unfamiliar syllables and plosives.

Kade... That was his last name, but what did 246 mean? Someone out there was using morse code and talking about them for some reason. He had to tell his dad. This was definitely not noise.

Abandoning his fear, Will hurried downstairs, put on his winter coat and boots, and rushed outside into the cold snow. His warm breath clouded in the air. “Dad! You gotta hear this! Dad!” He ran around to the back of the house to the fuse box. “Dad? Mom?” They were gone. No one was there. Will shone his flashlight on the ground. The melted snow beneath the overhang protecting that part of the house showed their footprints walking away.

He peaked around the corner. “Mom?”

His parents lay on their backs with their eyes open.

“Mom! Dad!” Will hurried as fast as his small legs could carry him to the middle of the large yard. He dropped at his father’s side. “Dad! Are you ok?! Mom!”

Neither moved, but light puffs of warm air escaped their mouths. They were alive, just paralyzed. Charlie’s mouth moved slightly. “Run,” he whispered.

“Dad, no!” Will pulled on his father’s hand to try to pull him to his feet.

Charlie’s hand trembled as he fought the bind. Molly twitched beside him, fighting her own battle.

A glaring light lit up the wintery yard, blinding him. Will covered his eyes and stumbled back. He blinked upward as enormous lights shown down on their position.

“Run!” Charlie screamed.

Will instantly took off across the yard. A red pulse hit the snow at his right, forcing him to dodge in an arch. He evaded one more hit to his left, but the third landed its mark. Will’s entire body froze. He struggled to move even a finger, but it had him completely paralyzed.

A rush of warm air blasted the snow into swirls of white clouds around them. Will faced the lights from a craft larger than his house as a long ramp lowered and a single individual descended it quickly. It looked like a man in a dark armored uniform, but his face was covered by a protective mask with orange tinted eyewear.

Will’s heart threatened to explode from his chest as he breathed rapidly in fear.

The man passed a scanner over Will’s wide brown eyes, then spoke. The language mirrored that of the transmission Will had received off and on for the past few weeks.

A sharp pain pricked in the soft space behind his right ear. Will let out a small squeak of surprise. He felt a tingle brush through his mind like someone had taken a feather and gently swiped it all over his brain. The sensation died seconds later.

The man said something to him.

Will couldn’t think straight.

Irritated, the man rolled his eyes, grumbled, and then said it again, more impatiently.

Will’s eyes shifted to stare at his mother and father fighting the paralysis.

The man said something else in frustration then gave up and picked him up.

Will wanted to fight, but his body refused to obey him. He watched his parents helplessly as he was carried up the ramp. The panic built, and he did the only thing his body would allow: he let out a terrified, wordless scream. The ramp closed, shutting his parents and home out of sight.

The ship’s atmospheric thrusters sent more snow clouds billowing through the air as it rose above the trees, pivoted, and disappeared across the sky.

All of this took no more than two minutes.

Molly and Charlie were left alone in the winter stillness of their yard. They could move enough to grip each other’s hands as the bind gradually wore off, but remained in the cold staring at the empty sky.

The power returned ten minutes later.

They continued to lay there even as the news switched over to the countdown.

“...5...4...3...2...1…”

A hot tear streaked down Molly’s face to drip into the snow. “HAPPY NEW YEAR!”

* * * *

tbc

* * * *

((I really wish I could translate what the alien said as he carried Will into the ship, but it would break the mood. The alien said, “246 Acquired. Let’s go. It’s colder than tits out here.”))

[notanotherbookreview]

My Life With John Steinbeck by Gwyn Conger Steinbeck Chapter 5 excerpt -Men Cannot Read Maps Gwyn and John on the road again- Route 66

Throughout his life, John continually showed me that he was a man with a drive and energy that was remarkable and a determination that was unbelievable. Anyone who succeeds in life has to have a complete determination as well as talent. John was a powerhouse of single mindedness.

The summer of 1942 we prepared to leave a hot and humid New York for good old California. We ended the lease on the house at Snedens’ Landing. John decided he wanted to take everything with us, including our fine record collection and all our china, and pack it all into his grey-blue 1941 Packard convertible, which he called “Baby.” He called all his cars “Baby.”

“Why don’t we store the china?” I asked. “We’ll take it. We might be living in California and we’ll need it,” he replied. Even then he was not sure what he wanted to do, but his mind was made up about California, and when John made up his mind, that was it, nothing changed it. He built up the back of the car and fixed it so that Willie (our sheepdog) could ride high up and see out; he made it so Willie could be level with our heads. He sat right behind us.

I packed all his files and his clothes and he packed the car. We had a heated discussion over how to pack the records, some five hundred dollars’ worth of records. He packed them all one way, and I told him he should alternate, a hard end one side and then a hard end the other side. He became angry. When anyone argued with John, it was like talking to a brick wall. He was so adamant that I left him to it.

He piled the records on the floor and our luggage on top, and the rug on top of that for dear Willie. The unfortunate thing was that he had the luggage we were going to use from night to night packed in the trunk! “How are we going to have fresh underwear and other necessities?” I asked. We had a few choice words over that, very choice. “To hell with it,” he blasted at me. “You can last with what you have on until we get to Wake Robin!”

That was that! Wake Robin is in Michigan, and it was the home of Paul and Rhea de Kruif, his friends. Why argue, I told myself, it won’t do any good. I grabbed an overnight bag, opened two suitcases, and pulled out two pairs of socks and shorts, a couple of clean shirts and a sweater and put them in the bag. We started out for California early one morning.

It was such a beautiful day as we headed out through the country. After a while we came to an “Apples for Sale” sign, and he wanted to buy some. He came back with two great big bags of apples, plus a gallon of hard cider. He was as bad as a woman at a white sale! “We won’t stop for breakfast, we’ll eat the apples,” he said. We ate apples all morning. By noon John was feeling sleepy but we kept going and we stopped at some motel in Pennsylvania.

In those days, in the early forties, motels weren’t quite as lenient about taking pets, so poor Willie had to stay in the car all night. That upset us, and we didn’t sleep very well. And the apples worked on both of us all night long, too. Needless to say, it was a restless night. I would get up, throw on some slacks and take Willie for a walk, then take him back to the car and go back to bed after the bathroom. We didn’t get much sleep. Believe it or not, John found some ice and chilled the cider. That was our breakfast. The next day John really pushed the car, and we arrived at Wake Robin exhausted. I had suspected that I was pregnant, but the ride removed that problem and by the time we arrived in Wake Robin it was all over. John was greatly relieved, and so was I.

Wake Robin is a pretty place, and we spent four glorious days and nights there, cooking and drinking with Rhea and Paul, and John and I melted into each other bodies. John also cleaned some guns he had bought and had not told me about. Throughout our relationship and then our married life he always had to have loaded guns around the house. He had this maniacal attraction for possessing all kinds of firearms. Why, I don’t know. Guns create violence, yet in John’s writing there was such a wonderful bond with his fellow human, a feeling that was rich for the land, the sea and its people. There was no great emphasis on violence, just human failings and emotions.

Autumn was on its way and we repacked the car (thanks to Rhea’s support), and again headed west. John kept really pushing that car; he was simply anxious to get to his beloved California where we would stay with my mother and stepfather until we found our own house. I did not drive because I am near sighted. Besides, anyone else driving always made John nervous. Oh, I would relieve him for a while in some of those lonely parts of the desert so he could put his head back. After all, he was pounding out some ten hours a day on the highways. Nothing was going to stop him from getting to Los Angeles as fast as he could.

After we arrived in Albuquerque, New Mexico, he began to complain about his back; he did have a problem with his spine and legs. We decided to relax. “I’ve never been to Sante Fe,” he said. “Let’s go.” Now I love the Southwest, and travelled through it a lot when I was a kid. We stayed in some motel and John poked around the museum. He had a tremendous interest in anything historical, in fact, he was quite a historian. He went to all the Indian art stores and in one found an Indian blanket he liked and bought. That went piling into the car. The weight of “Baby” was something, what with the records, luggage, a ninety pound sheepdog and the two of us. When we hit bumps, and we hit many, we sure did know it! I felt then at any moment the transmission would go. Fortunately, it did not. In Sante Fe John asked me about Taos. “Did you like to hang around that place? How far is it from here?” “About seventy miles.” “Let’s go.” It was as simple as that.

So off we went to Taos, a place steeped in history, the resting place of the legendary Western hero, Kit Carson, and a place where there are many fine reminders of the Old American West, plus a marvellous Spanish restaurant that had been there since I was a child. Taos also has, among other things, a beautiful gorge where the Colorado River begins. John was intrigued with this town. We lunched at the Spanish restaurant where they still made sopaipillas; John had been raised on that kind of food and he ate six for lunch and six more with dinner. John never ran short of an appetite for solids or liquids.

We spent a perfectly wonderful time in Taos. We spent a night in a little hotel off the Plaza where people were nice to Willie. They had never seen an Old English sheepdog, so Willie had a ball, too, with all the Mexican dogs. Dogs are such wonderful animals, often human thinking, and kinder and more loving than many a man or woman. We played around, and were the typical tourists for two days, and then John was his serious self again and anxious to get to Los Angeles.

The only way to get back on Route 66 from Taos is through Sante Fe. We piled into the car and off again we went. John drove like Barnie Oldfield, the race driver, at the wheel, staring ahead as we moved along sixty or seventy miles an hour. If he wanted a cigarette, he just leaned over and patted me on the knee, which meant, “Light me a cigarette.” There was no conversation; that was his signal. Perhaps we might sing together to the radio with me carrying the harmony. After a brief stop in Sante Fe for gas we headed towards Route 66. We had been travelling for some time when I said, quietly, “John, I hate to say this, but I think we took a wrong turn.”

“No we haven’t. I studied the map this morning and we’re going to hit Las Vegas.” “Las Vegas?” I said with surprise. “Yes, I’d like to look it over, see what it’s like” he went on. Politely I said, “Well, I’ve been looking over the land and it doesn’t look familiar to me.” “Well, I studied the map and it says Las Vegas 150 miles, and the map isn’t wrong.”

How could Las Vegas, Nevada, be 150 miles from Santa Fe I asked myself? I shrugged my shoulders. There wasn’t any point in further comment. By this time, Willie was drooling over my neck and pawing me. “I think we’ll have to stop for Willie, darling.” “He’ll have to wait. I want to be in Las Vegas for lunch.”

I kept quiet, although by now I knew it wasn’t the right road. John asked me to reach in the funny box, the glove compartment, and get his dark glasses. I did, and put them on him. “John dear, if we’re heading west, why is the sun in our face and it’s already eight in the morning?” “For God’s sake, I don’t care how many times you’ve gone over this country with your family – I looked at the map!” was his retort.

Actually, we had already gone some ninety-nine miles due east! “I don’t think you know as much about this country as you say you do,” he said. “Want to stop the car and we’ll get out your compass, dear?”

He kind of laughed, but he was mad and drove on. We began to come across funny little towns and then, suddenly there was a sign that read “Las Vegas 25 miles.” “That’s impossible! We’ve only been on the road two hours, and if we’re going due west, how the hell can the sun be in our eyes?” I said. With that, he slammed his hands on the wheel and said, “Goddammit! I’m doing the driving.” “All right, all right,” I said and lapsed into silence.

Soon we came into something as well populated as Los Alamos bombing field – a few shacks and a sign that read, “Welcome to Las Vegas.”

There was never any arguing with John. He was right and I and everyone else were wrong. That was all there was to it. We came to this little town and spotted a kind of cantina. “It must be the outskirts,” he said. By now I gave up and he gunned the motor to a short rise. Over the top we found some men doing some construction work, a tough looking bunch. “Lock your door,” John snapped. I pushed the lock button. “Get the gun out,” he said. I did. Suddenly, there was no road and we hit bottom. We were stuck because the car was so damned heavy.

I realized that John was really frightened. We sat there as the wheels spun. “We’re going to have to get these men to help us, dear,” I said. “Let me do it my way,” he answered. Always, always it had to be his way, the Steinbeck way, never anyone else’s, because he said that was the right way. The men began to walk toward us. Whenever John was nervous or angry he broke out in perspiration. Sweat just ran down his face. The men came over, three of them, and one said in a heavy Spanish accent, “I theenk you’re going to need some help, meester.”

“I think I am,” John said through a window open about two inches. Right beside him he had a cocked thirty-eight. The men had brought some planks and pushed the car and we got out of the deep sand. “Isn’t this Las Vegas?” John asked, greatly relieved and very grateful. “Si,” answered the man. “Si, Las Vegas.” “Nevada?” “No, New Mexico.”

The rest of the day John did not utter a single word to me, and we never did reach Las Vegas, Nevada. He went back on Route 66. He still did not speak to me. I did not dare ask him to stop and let Willie out, and he did not ask me if I wanted to go to the bathroom, either. I knew that whenever he was in that kind of mood the only thing to do was shut up and be quiet.

We drove something like five hours in total silence. Finally, he stopped at a diner and said he wanted coffee. It came as a relief to me, not to mention dear Willie. I took Willie for some exercise and wrung his tights, as they say. We took off again, and still John didn’t talk to me. The radio was on, and, except for the purr of the engine there was total silence. Nothing to break the ice. In a way I was frightened. I was afraid that if we stopped for gas he might go off and leave me: that’s how angry he was over making a mistake. It was nearing twilight and the sun again was in our eyes. I broke the silence. “Where do you want to stop for the night?”

“I’m going right through to Los Angeles.” We arrived in Los Angeles the following morning and he had done nothing but pound that highway. It was almost daylight when we woke up my mother and stepfather. They were not expecting us until the following day. John was completely exhausted, and I wasn’t feeling any better. Even poor Willie was shaking. John had a stiff Scotch and mother made a pot of coffee. I don’t remember what John did, but I know I slept solid for twelve hours. It had taken us less than five days to get to Los Angeles from New York.

I don’t really blame John for his frustration. He had goofed, badly. I do not believe any of us want to make a mistake, even though of course we do. And of course, that time he did.

John decided to rent a house. He found one, furnished, in the San Fernando Valley. By this time he was involved in the filming of The Moon is Down, the story of the Resistance in World War II. That book sold over a million copies, and Twentieth Century Fox bought the film rights. The motion picture was released in the spring of 1943. Anyway, John arranged for the Haitian woman who had worked for us at Snedens’ Landing to join us. Her voodoo intrigued him, and besides, he loved the way she fried fish. She would not fly, so she came by train. She stayed with us the whole time we lived in that house in the valley.

John returned to a normal state of communication with the world around him, and his life once more was pleasant. We spent Thanksgiving and Christmas in the valley with Mother, my stepfather and numerous friends. There was plenty of party action, but John still worked. He worked Monday through Friday on the script of The Moon is Down but when the weekend arrived we saw friends and the corks were pulled. We had some great times with the Burgesses and the Milestones. We went to most of the Hollywood restaurants and usually ran into people we knew, maybe at Mike Romanoff’s or Dave Chasen’s, both heavy movIe star and celebrity hangouts. The Wagner boys were around and we often had dinner with them.

While we were in the valley, Jack Wagner approached John with an original story, but he could not write it. John did. I have the original outline of that story, which John typed. It was Medal For Benny that on screen starred John Arturo de Cordova and Dorothy Lamour.

The first part of January 1943, we headed back to New York. John decided he did not like Los Angeles any more nor did he like living in southern California either. It lacked privacy, he said. Being on the move again did not matter to me. We were together

[dramaplustautology]

Ancient Tree – The Marrow Wood

Summary: An ancient evil has returned to the land of the living, and is completely lost. One of its minions goes to biggest city to help find someone to help rebuild, and help put a map together of a world they had left to grow.

Previous Entry: Link

Index: Link

They can’t go on location for certain reasons but I tried to make it interesting : q

Avy hasn’t stopped giving me rats.

“I tried spit-roasting them.” He gave me the charred stick with the rat was stabbed through, having been skinned and cooked medium-well in the fireplace.

It was a rainy evening and dinner can’t be cooked in the kitchen cause that room was well underwater.

Not that the topmost room in the north spire was a lot better. At least, that was the standard I expected.

This was supposed to be a lookout but the person who manned the tower had a fireplace built in secret. And a bought some nice chairs, a fancy rug that had withstood the extreme test of time – wonder how much funding these took—and chains with shackles connected to the wall for some reason?

I’ve never liked Mio. I’m glad we didn’t let him wake up.

“Eat your fill, Sorchrys,” Rodain said, huddled in the corner with the kids sitting around him with bowls of warm porridge. Thanks to Rodain, the roofs were watertight and the kids had learned a lot about construction. “You have fifty-million mouths to feed.”

“We all want to die.” I said, trying not to be glum. I mean it, truly.

Those kids around Rodain were morbid, laughing at me while Avy turned the rat sack over to find it empty.

“Why are they so tall and strong?” One of the kids patted Rodain’s huge knee and pointed at me, her bird egg’s blue hair contrasting with his deep brown locks. “When we only had rats to eat, Avent didn’t grow until we started stealing.”

“When birds only have bread, they starve.” Rodain said, confusing the children further. He didn’t elaborate further and couldn’t exactly demonstrate like he could with hammers and heavy lifting so I stepped in.

“I don’t eat just rats!” Right, I mean to say I stepped in a bit later.

“Yes, I’ve seen him swallowing frogs too.” Rodain mentioned offhandedly and I nearly cried.

“Ewwwww!” The kids chimed together, wanting to rub it in more than actually thinking it was gross.

Which it was! It really is and I’m going to get ripped apart if they catch me with a deer.

There are still deer around, right?

“Anyways! Rodain means that you can’t survive on ah meat alone. You need vegetables and fruit,” I chewed on my lip for a bit. “But I’m not exactly like you. Vegetables don’t do anything for me. Er, same with trees!” I quickly changed the focus. “They don’t eat meat, sort of. They eat sunlight with their leaves and eat meat when it turns into dirt with their roots.”

“Is that why no one grows as big as the tree behind the bell tower?” A different child raised their hand.

“It’s not right behind the bell tower,”Avy explained when Rodain and I turned to him. “The bell tower’s built in an exact spot that keeps everyone in the city from seeing the giant tree down south. No one’s been there but you can see it when you leave the city,” He went to the window facing the southern direction, leaning out to the storm. “You can see it from here too.”

Though it had to have been a nonstop three day trip by wheel away, I could see the long curve of what Avy believed was a thick trunk arching in the distance.

“That’s not a tree.”

Avy didn’t argue with me, tilting his head to get a better look at what sort of gross thing I was.

The spire shook, hit by a funny cat that didn’t know it wasn’t supposed to fly. All the kids scrambled around Avy, thinking it was a monster instead of a fluffy little scamp.

I hurried to the window and reached down into the dark. Two paws grabbed my wrist and I tugged the kitty cat—

Mach has just invaded my privacy and is telling me that if I keep writing that he’s a cat, he’s going to tell the kids that I can’t stop myself from eating baby birds.

None of the kids or Avy had met Mach yet, even though he wasn’t on a trip like Celestra was. Mostly cause his last face rotted off a way long time ago so he needed a new one.

The skin stuck to his bones well, taking on a youthful form that made him look younger than Avy but still big enough to keep him separate from the kids.

He took off his hood and shook the rain from his strawberry blond hair, glancing at the kids before giving Rodain and Avy a short nod.

“I heard you talking about the tree.” Mach rolled his shoulders, going to warm himself by the fire when he didn’t need to. “Was just there.”

“But it’s a rib,” I was surprised the rib had lasted so long without crumbling like the rest of the Boss’s father’s bones. That thing’s been around since before most of us were born. “Hold that thought, where were you? I get why you want to be adorable for the kids—“Mach scowl was saggy, what with his new face still adjusting. “—but how come me and Rodain haven’t seen you at all?”

“Because I work and Rodain works,” Mach snapped back, throwing his cloak over the shackles. Oh, I should have thought of that. Rodain was thinking the same thing, covering a few of the kids’ eyes far too late. “Even the children work but you just follow them around while I have to sit in the dark, writing new identities for us.”

“Then how did you know I was chaperoning Avy and the kids?”

Mach tossed an ovular packet to me, aiming for my poor face.

“I took a break and went for a walk. Same with today.”

Glancing between Mach and the silhouette of the tree outside the window, Avy said “That’s a long walk.”

“About an hour,” Mach jabbed a thumb at the packet in my hand. “Found that when I visited the tree.”

The woody packet, damp from the rain, was actually a very large seed. Kind of like an apple’s if the apple was the size of a horse.

“The rib…” I picked at the bottom of the seed and Rodain plucked it out of my hands, chewing on the end. “…it’s not a rib anymore?”

“Still a rib but the tip fell off and the marrow had rotted into the soil until it was hollow,” Mach leaned against the wall and slid down until he was sitting. “A tree seed must have drifted in and fallen all the way to the bottom.”

“That rib goes on for miles. There’s going to be barely any water, maybe a few minutes of sunlight at the right angle.” I narrowed my eyes at the seed, its thick hull resisting Rodain’s crushers.    

“When I was there, there were leaves bursting out of the top and big branches had broken through the bone. The people in the town nearby told me that it grew flowers for the first time this Spring,” Mach said, raising his hands to the fireplace’s flames. He usually curled up and napped there but too many people were watching. “The fruits are starting to grow now. Some already fell. Whatever kind of seed grew in the marrow, it’s going to be nothing like anything else in Kanaria.”

As the children gathered around the seed in awe, I approached Mach when he beckoned for me.

Glancing back at Rodain holding the seed and at how Avy was trying not to spy on us, I wondered how fast that see would grow with all the sunlight and water in the world.

It’s a just a seed but come next year…

“You and Rodain don’t tell him—“Mach whispered when I knelt next to him, referring to the Boss. “—that I went there. I just visited his father’s bones to make sure the bastard was still dead.”

[itsdndbitches]

Campaign 2 Episode 3 Part 2 (Plus Side Quest!) Highlights

Because we’ve parted ways for the end of the school year, this campaign leg is going to be Discord based! There were only 3 players (Dick, Alberich, and Zarafay), so I thought it was best to run a side quest off of the main campaign! I also got Tome of Foes yesterday, so I made use of some new creatures!! 

By the end of the dungeon, we just all agreed to call Cyanwrath “Angry Blue”.

Dick Mcgee rolls a nat20 on stealth right of the bat and just fades into the wall.

Upon going to attack the berserkers, Dick just yells “Hi Angry Blue!!” as they slash one across the chest. 

Dick becomes paralyzed with fear as combat begins against Angry Blue (in reality their wifi crashed right as I asked them to roll initiative). 

“I would very much like to do what I did before, which is lightning your face.” 

Angry Blue upon getting slashed across the chest: “I don’t know whether to be surprised or pleased. It’s a combination of both, I suppose.” Alberich: “Kinky.”

Dick: *apologizing profusely during combat* 

Angry Blue: “You bitch.” Dick: *gasps* Alberich: “nO yoU” 

Dick: *loots Angry Blue’s body while talking to her former guards* 

Dick rolls a nat20 on survival makes a beautifully woven paisley bag for three eggs out of the rugs he stole in less than thirty seconds (It looks like this)

The party just wanted to rest in a cave, but instead some tricksters transported them to the Feywild.

Dick, putting his hands on his hips and using his park ranger voice: “OKAY KIDS! It looks like we’ve been transported to the Feywilds! We’re gonna have a great time today! But don’t eat those mushrooms, cause they’re poisonous!” 

As Alberich was trying to fall asleep, Dick would just roll over and randomly yell “DID YOU KNOW THAT THE FEYWILD--” 

DM, trying to describe the size of bugs: “bite sized”

Dick and Alberich startled the fireflies, so they were flying away but they tried to get them to stay by yelling: “DO YOU WANT ME TO READ YOU THESE POEMS?!” and “HAVE YOU HEARD ABOUT APOLLO?!” respectively. 

Alberich and Dick meet Dominic “Yogi” Bear in the woods of the Feywild. 

Dominic pats Alberich on the head and he takes bludgeoning damage because of the massive size difference between a brown bear and a dwarf. 

Dick is awestruck and can’t say anything during this entire encounter with Dominic. 

By the end of the encounter, Dick just voice crack yells "hI Im dICK mcGEE ITS nICE TO MEET YOU!" at Dominic. 

Dominic gives the slightest indication that he might leave, and Dick just bursts into tears. 

Dick accidentally grapples Dominic in a hug when he tries to leave. 

Zarafay just fucking appears from the shadows in the middle of this entire thing. 

Dick, despite never being there before, guides the party around the town in his park ranger voice.

The party runs into Quilynn who’s running a shop for some reason (the DM’s PC when they’re not DMing) 

“What brings you guys to the Feywild?” “Faeries?” 

DM, repeatedly: “Craftsmanshit”  

DM: “You reach into the bag, and out jumps an elk.” Player: “Alberich is just a little bit surprised.” 

Fantasy Barnes and Noble = Bards and Nobles 

Dick, unable to contain himself: “HI DO YOU HAVE ANY POETRY?” 

Zarafay rolls a nat1 on investigation, and while trying to look for a comic book, finds smut instead, and buys it. 

Dick reads a poem and goes to purchase the book from the shopkeeper with tears streaming down his face. 

DM: “Is there anything you guys want to do before getting in the bed?” Zarafay: “Can we go to the club instead?”

While trying to figure out where the club is, Alberich, the cleric, just licks his finger, sticks it in the air, and goes “It’s this way,” 

Alberich upon entering the club: "I'm a pastor so I don't need women, I just need me, myself, Apollo, and a dance floor.” 

Zarafay picks up a tiefling in the corner reading a book. 

Alberich gets into a dance battle with an earth elemental. 

DM: “Dance battle, roll initiative.” 

Alberich, the holy cleric, casts Spiritual Weapon to create a pole, pole dances, casts light as he jumps off and sticks the landing. The earth elemental is stunned, and just claps. 

Zarafay makes it a point to flirt with the ENTIRE BAND. 

Dick is trying to make friends at the bar, but instead he rolls a nat20 charisma check and ends up flirting with the ENTIRE CLUB, attracting a huge group of people with him in the center just talking about nature. 

The party finds a map can get them to a tree that can supposedly take them back to the material plane, but they all roll shit on survival and nature, so they just wander aimlessly until they find the most interesting looking tree. 

The tree isn’t active, and no one knows why, so they all just decide to sleep. 

Alberich relives some past nightmare as he tries to sleep, and awakens to just barely catch an Oblex (new creature from Tome of Foes)  hiding behind the tree. 

Upon slaying the Oblex, the tree portal opens, the party runs through, and they all take bludgeoning damage because the portal opened above a field. 

Dick McGee Highlights and Jokes

“Wanna try on something for size? Try Dick!”

Dick apologizes to Angry Blue upon stabbing her through the chest, murdering her. 

“Dick pulls out his long sharp....spear.” 

“Dick’s loaded” 

“Dick has a lot of sacks.” 

Dick goes to the blacksmith

“Dick wants to improve his sword.” 

Upon meeting Vulc, the Giff Blacksmith: “OH MY GOD YOU ARE ADORABLE.” 

“Dick’s attuned to his sword.” 

[mundoplanet]

Abuelita

Abuelita Marci had the hottest aji, or hot sauce, in town. She was known for it. In that small town on those hot mornings nothing could make you sweat more than a hot cup of coffee and a hot plate of breakfast served just off Marci’s skillet with a spoon full of her homemade aji.

Sweat would be on her brow as she maneuvered her makeshift kitchen in her hole in the wall joint. And she would be yapping. Yapping about the dance last night; yapping about the plants in her garden; yapping about the trip she was going to have to make to the big city in a couple of days.

Personally, I would just sit and nod along, nod along with my head in a book. Occasionally, I would interrupt and ask for a definition of a word I had come across in my reading that I didn’t understand. Marci would seamlessly change the topic of her yapping to my question, give an answer, and switch right back to her soliloquy for two.

Marci would make me breakfast and give me the news I needed to know. That is, when she decided to open. Other mornings I’d settle for a cup of joe with Charly, right there on the beach. Charly and I would jeer back and forth like good nonrelated cousins do. Other mornings, I’d just pop a quid of coca leaves in my mouth, grab my board, and let the cool ocean waters wake me up.

Overall, the pace of the days there was measured. Days passed lazily: Sun, tides, and light conversations that seemed to mimic the squawking of the sea birds. In the late afternoons, if the surf was battered down by winds, I’d take my skateboard over to the mini ramp. Chances are Andres and Michael would be there when I showed up. If work at a local construction site had them tied up, a group of little shredders would be there.

One time, Michael and I were the only ones skating. It was a particularly lazy day. We wandered off from skating and went to his place. We climbed the little hill that started on the inland side of the town’s tiny main road. It was pretty rugged: a dinky fence and a mini sprawl of makeshift lean-tos and huts.

Michael’s uncle was there outside the hut. He was older just sitting, gazing out from a patched up rocking chair. Michael and I ducked into the interior of the two story hut. Pots and plates were scattered over the countertop space. Michael offered me a bit of the fish that had been left for him.

We cruised on out shortly after the small meal. Michael made the customary sign of the cross at the door, waved to the uncle, brushed his teeth for a moment, and we passed through the fence heading a different direction than we had come. We ran into Javier walking up from the beach. A golden smile was etched on his face. He had bodyboard and bike in hand and wetted down hair.

The night rhythms were already starting to sound from the little barrio behind us. Kids were out playing street games and the older folk were leaning on doorposts waiting for the night to give them their chance at their style of street games. Dancing was a ritual and a rite.

Michael had a shift at a hotel in town. Javier lent us his bike. The bike would be safe in the hotel. I hopped on the handlebars and Michael kicked off. We zipped down to the beachfront. No traffic affronted us, luckily. And the kids made way.

That’s how I met Michael. I stayed a world apart from the true side of town in a hotel on the beachfront. In the evenings we’d sway casually in the hammocks and talk about the chicas in our lives. He was only a bit younger than I. He liked to bodyboard; I liked to surf. We both skated and occasionally we’d convince a friend to take us further down the coast in his car for a day surf trip.

All in all, everyone there gave the town a different dimension. From hot aji in the morning to evening breezes, no map could capture the real layout of town. Just like riding a wave, you’d have to be patient and line yourself up if you wanted the true ride of the place.