#and i only used a guide like. maybe 4 times when i was really stumped gkfjf

[gender-euphowrya]

yay finished four swords adventure yayayay

[wouldntyou-liketoknow]

Day 7: Ritual [HALLOWEEN SPECIAL]

(Disclaimer: three of the characters in this story belong to me. For more information on Cruz, go here. For more information on LeviathanPat, go here. For more information on Sol, go here. For more information on Moses and ColosSeptic, go here. EldritchPlier belongs to the Markiplier Cinematic Universe.)

(This story, along with Day 6, is a continuation of a sneak-peek I included at the end of Day 2. Originally, this was going to be a sneak-peek itself, but plans have changed, and I'm on a bit of time-crunch, so...)

(As usual, I got tons of help developing these characters from the amazing @sammys-magical-au ! Please go check out their blog and stories!)

(One more thing: if you’d like to use the distorted fonts you’ll be seeing in this story, go here.)

(Trigger Warnings: blood/gore, body horror, knives/blades, murder/death, torture, descriptions of ritual, occultism, eating/drinking, strong language. Please let me know if I missed anything.)

Day 1 Day 2 Day 3 Day 4 Day 5 Day 6

___

As attached as he was to his gut-hook skinner knife, Cruz knew that he couldn’t realistically rely on it for everything. 

Sure, he took care to keep it nice and sharp and ready, but that didn’t change the fact that its three-and-a-half inch blade was simply too small for this particular task. 

Besides, it was still very satisfying to hear a wet, dull thunk as he brought a borrowed kitchen knife down, followed by a slick, puply sigh as he pushed the blade deeper and deeper into flesh until the handle was all that could be seen. 

Cruz felt his eyes widen in time with the grin that etched its way over his features. Readjusting his grip, he began a pushing-and-pulling pattern, slowly-but-surely carving a thick line. The table slightly wobbled beneath the weight and the movement, but he used his free hand to keep his current project in place. 

The flesh produced a soft, squelchy rhythm that was close to a growl as the knife continued sawing through. 

…Though, after a moment or two, Cruz had to pause, releasing his grasp to try and shake off the sudden cramp that had manifested in his wrist. 

A wry chuckle kept silence at bay. He glanced over at the figure sitting across the table from him, who had already finished carving. 

“These guys are always tougher than you expect, huh?” Sol—as he’d learned during awkward introductions about ten-or-so minutes ago—commented.

Strings of wet pulp glistened in the pendant light that hung overhead, easily snapping as Sol pulled a decent chunk from the top-half of their own victim.

A strong smell filtered into the air: fresh and ripe and earthy and…maybe tinged with just a smidge of something acidic?

“Yeah, they really are,” Cruz nodded. “Still pretty fun, though.” 

He wrapped his hand around the knife and resumed his cutting, this time a bit of an easier angle. Once he convinced his subject to finally open up, he twisted the top off with a stiff criiick. “...Hey, thanks for taking the time to get these. I would’ve picked some up myself, but the drive over here didn’t seem to take me past any patches.”

To be frank, the drive to The Oozing Crown had been even stranger than the one Cruz had taken when Plier had guided him to make a new home at The Drowned Moon. 

It’d started raining an hour in, and the way those droplets had tapped against his windshield was far too specific to not be some kind of code. 

The edges of the road he’d maneuvered his car along had set themselves on fire once or twice—in the middle of that rainstorm, mind you—flames ignited in between the asphalt and his tires, only to snuff themselves out after a few seconds. 

At some point, blurry deer-shaped figures had clambered out of the vacant fields to gallop alongside his vehicle, giving more than enough time for him to see how they had no actual heads; just pairs of glassy eyes, floating in the air above neck-stumps, that seemed to glint with humor once the creatures had eventually veered off the road and faded away in the distance.

(Not like he hadn’t expected that kind of stuff, to be clear. Outer monstrosities like his boss-and-kind-of-weird-friend basically sweated horror, so of course that would eventually graft itself onto the places they claimed for their territory.)

“Oh, of course! Don’t worry about it,” Sol beamed as they reached into the chasm they’d just sliced open, ripping out a handful of slimy tissue to deposit into the decorative bowl that sat in the center of the table, covered in various glyphs. They then got up from their chair, holding their hands up like a surgeon as they moved to lean over said bowl. 

“There’s actually a sort of botany section back at my boss’ hideout,” they explained, carefully picking out all the white, oval-shaped seeds and put them in a smaller, less impressive tupperware container off to the side. “It’s not much; just one greenhouse across the entrance walkway from my apartment. But it’s been doing pretty well.”

“Wait, really? I thought that museum was all about medical oddities and the like,” Cruz replied as he grabbed a serrated scoop and began raking it over the gourd’s inner-walls. 

“It’s all about oddities in general. Stuff relating to human anatomy just happens to be one of the biggest parts of that category.” Sol shrugged, their face temporarily twisting as one seed managed to land in the ginger hair that tickled their shoulders. They tugged it out and flicked it over to the garbage can that stood at attention by the head of the table.

“As long as it looks creepy, it can be added to the collections. So, weird plants and fungi have just enough game. Like a little preview before the real meat and potatoes.”

“Nice. I can totally see that working well,” Cruz assured, visions of bat orchid and pitcher-plants and doll’s eyes and corpse blossoms flickering through his brain. “But…pumpkins? They really have enough weirdness to count?” 

Sol raised a joking eyebrow, glancing back and forth between the gourds on the table. 

The one they were hollowing out was covered in puffy, dry-looking, wart-esque growths. The one he was focusing on, meanwhile, was a dark shade of green rather than orange, boasting wrinkled-looking skin despite how obviously fresh it was, along with a shape like a clumsily-sculpted cube rather than an apple-like sphere.

“...Yeah, okay. Fair point,” Cruz admitted with a chuckle. 

Twin yips! and mmrrowhs! echoed from a few feet away, prompting the two of them to look over in almost perfect unison. 

A long, wide bar-counter stood at the center of The Oozing Crown, separating the brewery’s main floor from a set of nearly floor-to-ceiling shelves, each one full to bursting with various bottles. It also came equipped with a pair of thin, sliding doors that could be locked up in order to shield said bottles. 

This was extremely fortunate, as two vaguely cat-like creatures had apparently deemed the counter a perfect space for wrestling. They both shifted in-and-out of their glamors as they leapt and swatted and scampered after one another. 

Crimson spikes shuffled through Macaroon’s veil of cream-colored fluff. 

The black feline he was facing off with (Sol had introduced him as Charcoal) pounced away; a shudder ran through his front-legs, his paws and claws and toe-beans all stretching out into a pair of bat-like wings the second he was in the air. 

He fluttered in circles overhead, undoubtedly soaking up the way Macaroon stared at him.

Sol tilted their head at the display, eyes practically sparkling. “Y’know, I really didn’t think Char would get along with another cat-monster so well. I mean, he was a stray when I first found him.”

Cruz shrugged, scratching at his thin beard and resisting the urge to walk over and scoop his pet up. “Well, when I got Macaroon, I was told that about sixty-percent of his brain is a ragdoll’s. So, he loves to play when he gets the chance.” 

(Granted, that playing also extended to shredding sacrificial victims into ribbons if they tried to cause any problems during a ritual, but still. So long as he wasn’t directly threatened, Macaroon was a total sweetheart.)

Sol nodded, and it wouldn’t have taken a mind-reader to guess that they were thinking about all the not-so-cute-and-cuddley things Charcoal had done in order to help them out with their own projects. 

Unseen hinges creaked, followed by the unmistakable rhythm of footsteps and claws clicking against hardwood. 

A brunette man, seemingly around Sol’s age (so, younger than Cruz, but still obviously an adult) traipsed out the brewery’s kitchen with glistening, dark red stains on his hands.

Moses paused to wash them off at a sink behind the bar (if you asked Cruz, the blood really wouldn’t have been too noticeable against the deep maroon fabric of the button-down he wore…then again, that button-down was open and draped over a white-as-snow tank-top). He then sidled around the corner of the bar.

A small, vaguely dog-esque creature skittered by his side. Judging by the splotches of gray and black and tan that decorated his fluffy fur, his glamour seemed to be a hybrid of Australian cattle dog and German shepherd. 

Just like the cats, however, things were not as they seemed. 

As Moses’ pet panted like any canine would, his mouth seemed to stretch just a bit too wide at the corners; his pendant ears and little button nose almost seemed to wither in place before snapping back into form. His big, warm eyes flickered, looking much more hollow for half a second. The poof of his wagging tail was a blur, but if you looked at it just long enough, you’d see several stands of something scaly and sinuous…

Both Macaroon and Charcoal paused their antics, regarding him with curiosity and suspicion. Mincer, meanwhile, simply sat and stared back at the felines, tilting his head just a little too far.

“How goes the gutting?” Moses announced, taking a chair away one of the other tables and dragging it over to the one his guests were occupying. 

“Good,” Sol reported, lifting up her pumpkin to show how (relatively) clean it was on the inside. 

“We’re almost done here; just gotta get one more pumpkin’s worth.” She gestured to the glyph-covered bowl, which was now almost piled high with fruit-masquerading-as-vegetable guts. 

“Alright, then. I can take care of that,” Moses grinned, approaching the group of just-in-case-spares that Sol and her boss had brought along. He loomed over them, eyes wandering back and forth, trying to decide which one would be best. 

“And what about the set-up down there?” Cruz asked. He’d only caught a glimpse of The Oozing Crown’s basement, but he’d have a chance to get a better look once Plier returned, along with the monsters Sol and Moses were working with. 

“Oh, yeah, everything’s pretty much ready,” Moses replied. “Getting bodies into the spare tanks is always a little tricky, but I managed. Helps that there’s only two for tonight. And the live one definitely won’t be going anywhere.”

“He’d better not be,” Cruz replied with a grim chuckle. “Because the hypnosis is definitely gonna wear off sooner or later.”

As if to prove his point, muffled screaming began to echo up through the floor, alongside a chorus of desperate thumps.

An instinctive shiver ran down his spine at recent memories. 

How Plier had apparently singled one of the theater’s patrons out from the crowd.

How Plier had instructed Cruz to lead said patron into Screen Nine, and then lock the doors and put up a maintenance sign to all other customers.

How Cruz had used the Employees Only room to slither into Screen Nine’s projection booth and watch the trapping process.

How the movie that the patron had chosen to watch began normally…only for the enormous screen to turn a dark shade of gray, still glowing from within, giving ample opportunity to see hundreds of tiny lines all writhed and rippled along, like raindrops violently colliding with a pool of deep, murky water.

All the while, character dialogue had transitioned into something else. The sound had been reminiscent of rubber being stretched…only at a much lower pitch that carried on far, far past its welcome.

Just one of many tricks at Plier’s dispense when he either wanted or needed to make sure that a customer wouldn’t be leaving The Drowned Moon…

“Oh!” Moses suddenly blurted as he glanced at the pumpkin-gut bowl. “Before I forget—!”

He raced past Mincer and the cats, hovering behind the bar. He fished a small, glinting key from one of his pockets, opened up the shelf-door, then quickly shut and re-locked them after taking a grabbing a rectangular, teal-tinted bottle. 

“This is one of my favorites,” Moses mentioned, snickering as he carried said bottle over to the table. He raised it to his face, expertly using his teeth to dislodge the cork with a loud, shrill sqquueeak!

The sharp scent of tequila seeped into the air.

Cruz blinked, exchanging a look with Sol. 

“What’re you—” Sol began to ask, but Moses cut her off via resting the bottle’s neck on the rim of the bowl, allowing at least two shot glasses worth of booze to pour on in. 

Once he was satisfied, Moses re-corked the bottle, set it off to the side, and grabbed one of the scoops to stir the alcohol into the pumpkin guts. 

“Voila!” Moses proclaimed with a triumphant smirk. 

“...Why?” Cruz wondered aloud, brow furrowing in confusion. 

In response, Moses raised an eyebrow as though Cruz had just asked him whether or not water made things wet. “The whole point of this ritual is to keep some mindless, starving primeval monster disguised as an asteroid from eating the moon. So, that means the offering should be as filling as possible to keep him from trying that stunt again for at least another couple centuries.” 

“I mean, yeah,” Sol acknowledged. “But…things like Ah’Mung-Stus can only process alcohol in impossible ways. Nothing like how humans can.  The offering’s already gonna involve blood, and we have no idea how it could mix with that drink.” 

“Exactly! It’ll be a fifty-fifty chance: the tequila could make the offering delicious…or it could make the offering completely appalling. Either way, it’ll just be one more thing to stop Ah’Mung-Stus,” Moses insisted, putting a hand on his hip as he took the bottle and returned it to the shelves. “No matter how it tastes, in the end, he’ll be too full and too drunk to be a threat,”

As he went back to scrutinizing the pile of pumpkins, he added, “Besides, we’re in a brewery that has to be closed on Halloween. You have any idea how much of an impact that’ll put on business after this? I might as well make use of some of the supply tonight, one way or another.” 

Cruz wanted to point out how intoxication generally did NOT make outer monstrosities less dangerous than they already were.

Especially considering all the chaos that had taken place in the theater on Plier’s part due to a horrific hangover from…well, Cruz would never be sure what his boss had consumed that infamous night, but a faint, nearly-radioactive scent still lingered in Screen Ten months later. 

But before he could, Sol suddenly stood from her chair in a violent flinch. They rested one hand on her temple, her bright blue eyes flickering in a way that Cruz was all too familiar with. 

There was a voice in her head; a voice that was very real because it was being spoken by a creature who could feast on mortal minds professionally or casually. A creature that she’d obviously made a pact with similar to the one he’d made with Plier all those years ago. 

“Moses, wait—” Sol tried. “Not that one, NOT—!”

A section on the white pumpkin Moses had selected suddenly bulged from the inside. A muffled chorus of scraping and squelching followed. 

 Moses’ eyes grew to the size of dinner plates as he, likely acting on panicked instinct, dropped the gourd and backed away several paces.

The pumpkin burst open with a spray of pale orange slime before it even hit the floor. Without even a second of hesitation, its seed-covered guts ripped their way through the organic chasm. The glob floundered on the floor in a clumsy, wobbling slither like a huge slug on bath-salts. It raised its dripping, mishappen, featureless head to the ceiling and let out a high-pitched squeal. It then clambered in Moses’ direction, snarling and spitting. 

Mincer leapt in front of his owner, his glamour completely evaporating. His fuzzy head vanished, revealing a set of three canine skulls in its place, the vertebrae from three necks eventually disappearing into the fur that remained on his chest. What was once his tail was now a cluster of live snakes, which all hissed and writhed independently, craning themselves to look around their host’s body. 

Mincer’s middle-skull lunged, sinking its teeth into the pumpkin-gut-creature and thrashing it back and forth while his left-skull and right-skull barked and growled. 

Macaroon saw this new chaos and realized that one of his new friends had found an odd little plaything. So, he dropped his own glamor and raced into the fray, a coat of spike flaring out over his back, extra eyes blooming under his primary ones. He opened his mouth, allowing a disturbingly long forked tongue to wrap around the opposite end of the pumpkin-gut-creature, making it easier for him clamp his own fangs down. 

Charcoal, who had been perching on the ceiling fan that hung just above all of this, quickly realized that someone else was getting more attention than he was. So, he dive-bombed his way into the sudden game of Tug-O-War, wings flapping furiously, veils of smoke pouring through his teeth. A pair of horns sprouted up from his forehead, and the tip of his tail was topped by scorpion-esque barb that had absolutely NOT been there a few seconds ago. 

Sol and Cruz abandoned their seats at the same time, their respective shouts mixing into one another as they rushed over to their pets. Moses grabbed at Mincer’s chest (and, by some miracle, avoided getting bitten by any of the tail-snakes) but the monstrous little dog didn’t release his hold. 

Sol managed to pin Charcoal’s wings to his chest before he was out of reach, but the cat-dragon-thing proved just as stubborn. 

The same went for Macaroon, who didn’t so much as budge when Cruz made to scoop him up. 

Thankfully, all the extra friction seemed to be on their side…kind of. 

With an energy similar to that of a rubber band being snapped, the pumpkin-gut-creature ended up flying across the room to hit the wall of a solid SPLAT!

It then slid to the floor, still and quiet as the pumpkin guts that waited patiently in the glyph-bowl.

The pets all quieted down, slowly shifting back into the guise of normal animals, their eyes all wide and curious and they stared across the room. 

Their respective owners pretty much followed suite, mouths hanging open as they held their pets close and braced for more chaos.

When the chaos failed to come, Sol was the first to move, heaving a sigh of relief. “Okay, okay. It’s dead.” 

“Are you sure?” Cruz asked, not wanting to look away from the mess too long. 

“Positive.” Sol nodded before she set Charcoal down, crossing the room and grabbing a roll of paper towels from the table they’d been using. She knelt down to scrub at the fresh stain on the wall; once it was cleaned, she gave Moses an apologetic look. “Pat had been holding that pumpkin on the way here. I guess some of his energy grafted onto it.”

“Oh.” Moses murmured, slowly nodding. He blinked, then rolled his shoulders and knelt down to receive some puppy-kisses from Mincer. “...Can we still use those guts, or should I just hollow out a different one?”

Sol’s brow furrowed, their eyes flickering as they listened to the voice of a monster. “...No, he says this should work just fine.” 

“More potency, right?” Cruz offered with a weak chuckle. 

It took a few long, awkward minutes for the three of them to scrape all the formerly-animate pumpkin guts off the floor and into the bowl. An extra moment to pick out all those seeds.

Even so, it seemed the timing was perfect. 

A strong chill spread through the air, right as the hardwood floor took on an abrupt, almost organic heat.

The building shuddered. 

A cacophony of twisting, straining metal, of splashing, of warped hissing and growling echoed from the the kitchen doorway. 

And then…a voice. 

A horrific, distorted voice that implied the air inside the lungs it’d just risen out of had melted.

A voice that Cruz didn’t recognize it…but Moses most certainly did judging by the way his lips quirked into a smile. 

“𝗪⃥𝘌̸'⃥𝘙̸𝗘⃥ 𝗕⃥𝘈̸𝗔⃥𝘈̸𝗔⃥𝘈̸𝗔⃥𝘊̸𝗞⃥!̸” It called, the words seeming to bounce along the walls and floor and ceiling. 

“And we’ll be right down!” Moses responded, balancing the pumpkin-gut-filled bowl on one hand like he was a waiter in a snooty restaurant. 

He strode back behind the back, disappearing through the kitchen doorway once again. 

Sol and Cruz filed after him, entering the brewery’s little kitchen just in time to see him strapping his personal, protective mask onto his head. 

It almost resembled one of those classic gas-masks…almost. But a set of six spindly blades that had been attached to the base of the mouth guard, clutching at the air like the mandibles of an insect, had other ideas. As did the multitude of shiny, deep blue eyes that had been welded to scatter all over the mask’s head, above the primary lenses that Moses was now looking through as he made his way down into the basement. 

Two more masks had been left on the counter by the stove.

One that shone like black porcelain or marble, decorated with sculpted veins a dull shade of reddish-violet. A pair of ram-like horns curled under the sharp spires of what must've been ears. It boasted a mouthful of sharp, gleaming teeth that formed a grin on the left side and a snarl on the right.

Sol took it into their hands, lifting it to rest on their face before shrugging a violet leather jacket over their black-and-yellow striped shirt. Then, they marched on after Moses, quickly disappearing into the darkness.

Cruz picked up his own mask, the one he’d spent nearly an entire week perfecting before he’d ever even met Plier. It was in the vague shape of a bird’s face, almost like those plague doctor costumes that so many people were hot for on Halloween. Streaks of scarlet and gold wound about the beak, ending at the glass eye-lenses. 

Even after all the things he’d done, all the things he’d seen and learned thanks to Plier, it was still a little hard to believe that this thing was responsible for shielding Cruz’s mind and brain from all the surreal energy he exposed himself to for projects like this. 

Cruz shook his head, then pulled the mask on. Once the straps were secure against his dark hair, he draped his favorite duster-cardigan over his shoulders. Yeah, the fabric was grayish-blue, and that didn’t exactly mix well with bloodstains, but he’d always liked the way its pattern almost looked like clouds of fog. Besides, it had washed well enough before.

The basement door hung open before him; it’d been built into the floor, much like a storm cellar. The beginning of a metallic staircase waited at the edge, only visible a few steps down.

Taking a deep breath, Cruz descended, pulling the floor-door shut behind him. 

He found himself standing on an iron catwalk, overlooking a truly enormous lair built with an industrial aesthetic. 

Out of all the machinery Cruz could see, a set of huge tanks stood out. It seemed they’d been constructed from copper and lined with a more silvery material. 

There were seven of them in total—six of them stood in two rows of three near the walls. The ones in the center of those rows were both full; gallons upon gallons of liquid churned within, glowing just enough to show off the silhouettes of a floating body.

The seventh tank stood at the head of the basement, much larger and more imposing than all the others. It glowed even brighter, its light tinted a sinister shade of green.

This one also wasn’t quite so empty; it shuddered and twitched and groaned in place as a trio of blurry shapes writhed for purchase inside. 

The tank’s hatch was pushed open with a keening screech, and a mass of horrific, abyssal flesh flooded out and down the side. 

A set of four arms sprouted from the monster’s sides, helping him steady himself just as he touched down on the concrete floor. He shook his head and rolled his shoulders, slinging droplets everywhere like a dog shaking water out of its fur.

Sol trotted over to stand by the abomination’s side. He gazed down at her and bared his long, glinting teeth in a knowing grin. 

This must have been the Pat that Sol had mentioned earlier.

And his grin died a quick-yet-brutal death as another hideous figure pushed its way out through the tank’s hatch, a clutch of claws landing on one of the tendrils coiling from Pat’s back. 

Pat let out a short cry of pain that evolved into a furious HSSSSS, a forked tongue flicking between his rows and rows and rows of teeth like a party favor.

The emerging monster glowered right back, offering a low snarl before he clambered over to the opposite side of the room. 

Plier’s skin was the color of fleshy rust, almost every inch covered by organic thorns. It seemed to flicker on its own accord, like he was standing in the light of an invisible fire. Eight long, jagged, insectoid legs curved out of his torso, clutching at the floor and walls as he regained his balance. 

Cruz felt a grin spread under his mask. 

He jogged down the catwalk’s stairs, metal shaking with each step until he got to the basement floor. He raced past the rows of tank, having to jump over the live sacrifice—a sobbing, writhing man who lay on the floor, having been gagged and hogtied—like he was a hurdle that had been set up on a gym track to avoid tripping. 

Plier barked a laugh at the sight, the sound buzzing like a swarm of angry wasps in a blender. He reached with one claw to clap Cruz on the back. His eyes never failed to remind Cruz of burning embers, and they took on a somewhat softer glow with his humor. All sixteen of them.

“You’re late,” Cruz joked, drumming his fingers on one side of his mask. 

A long, chittering sigh drifted through Plier’s teeth—both his upper and lower canines were always longer than the rest, curving out of his mouth like tusks. 

“Ỷea͞h͍,̅ w̶̎e̽l̨l͠,̜ͮ̆ w̶̳e W̟O̻UĽ͙ͭD'̿V̢ͫͪE b̡_ȩ̃̓e͑n͉ he̹̦r͗̄̑e a̅ l̠͢i̜̅̐t̴̆ṯlͣ͟e͖ ea̬̾́ȓ̴͖l̦̾iͧe̟̿r̨̀̇,̍ Plier replied, his tone reeking with salt, “if̞̏͒ SO̜̼MÉ̲͖O̢͆NE͙̠ h̘̿a͛̔d̩̃͛ņ͓̓'͊t̓ taken̫̐ h̠́ịͦś S͝W̷̺ͧEE̅T̹ͯ DA̾M̈́̕N͌ͩ̅ T̒͗I̬͌̇M̯̚͟È t͉ͦ͂oͨ cͦat̤ͥ̍ch̗ â̬̕ st͍ȧr͑.”

Nine of his eyes rolled in their sockets, sending little daggers in Pat’s direction. 

Pat glared, pinprick pupils shuddering in the sickly-pale orbs that were trapped in his cavernous eye sockets. 

“¥ðµ'rê †ålkïñg ßïg gåmê £ðr †hê gµ¥ whð whð håÐ †ð kêêþ ¢ïr¢lïñg ßå¢k †ð gê† RÈþLÄÇÈMÈñ†§,” he snapped, pushing an accusatory talon at Plier. He glanced back at Sol, his sneer morphing into a smirk. “Hê jµ§† ¢ðµlÐñ'† §êêm †ð §†ðþ Ðrðþþïñg hï§ ðwñ §†år§ ïñ†ð †µmðr §lµï¢ê; †ððk åß𵆠£ïvê †rïê§ ßê£ðrê hê måñågêÐ †ð hðlÐ ðñ†ð ðñê.”

Cruz’s eyes widened. He felt his heart skip a beat. 

Stars? The monsters had captured actual stars for this ritual?!

He stared at Pat, eyes searching frantically until he finally caught it: a large maw was taking up space on the abomination’s stomach, rows of sharp, crooked teeth having sprouted from his flesh and locked themselves together. 

And there, through the crevices of all those teeth…light. A bright, beautiful light that was flickering and shaking, so obviously struggling. 

Cruz craned his neck toward Plier and eventually found something similar. A group of his thorns had grown longer and thicker than all the rest, creating a makeshift cage on the upper half of his back. Desperate light seeped through the thin cracks.

Plier sputtered at this, veils of steam pouring out through his skin. “O̢ͩͮh̾,̢̐ͯ p̫̾̒l̝ẻ͎as̿e͋̐!̽ Iͩt̊'̫́s̫͞ n̳o̿́t̚_̓ M̷̬̕Ỳ f̵̺͖a̮̾u͑͋l̟͘͢t͐ͧͤ th̫͛̆e̮ͮy strͦu͑ggl̨͑̚eͮ s̙̼̒õ m̥̀͜u̹ͣc͡h͔͆́!ͬ̀̚”

A snide hum seared into the air through Pat’s teeth. He tilted his head until it was angled upside-down. “Wåï† å §ê¢ðñÐ…wh¥ ÐÌÐ †hê¥ §†rµgglê §ð mµ¢h? Ì mêåñ, ï£ ¥ðµ'rê §µ¢h åñ È×þÈR† ðñ h¥þñð§ï§ åñÐ gµïlê—”

He cut himself off as Plier snarled and lunged, ducking in just the nick of time to leave the other monster’s talons swiping at empty air. His torso stretched with a chorus of awful pops and cracks as he glided along the floor, baring his fangs to retaliate.

…Or, he was about to when a ragged, piercing howl swept through the basement. The sound truly seemed to turn the air poisonous; both Plier and Pat flinched badly, lowering their heads and wrenching all of their hideous eyes shut. 

Cruz’s head swam. It took an embarrassingly long few seconds for him to realize that he’d fallen to his knees. He glanced over at Sol—they were still standing, though they had to lean against one of the tanks for support. 

As Cruz picked himself up, that green glow quickly grew brighter and deeper. He looked over at the seventh tank, just in time to see a third abomination floating in the center. 

Like Plier and Pat, this one was vaguely human-shaped for the most part (though, really, you’d have to be on some serious drugs for that to make any sense). The flesh stretching from his wide, hollow eye-sockets seemed to flutter in the tank's liquid. His dark hair was even longer than Plier’s, strands swaying and swirling like drunken eels. 

All the eyes on his chest, neck and arms blinked and rolled, pupils of all shapes dilating and constricting with no rhyme or reason. He even seemed to be somewhat propelled by the remains of his torso; like a cluster of ghostly jellyfish had taken nest inside of the cavity. 

The toxic light was vibrant enough to essentially burn through the copper, allowing everyone to see him for what he truly was. 

“𝗜⃥ 𝗧⃥𝘏̸𝗢⃥𝘜̸𝗚⃥𝘏̸𝗧⃥ 𝗬⃥𝘖̸𝗨⃥ 𝗧⃥𝘞̸𝗢⃥ 𝗖⃥𝘈̸𝗟⃥𝘓̸𝗘⃥𝘋̸ 𝘈̸ 𝘛̸���⃥𝘜̸𝗖⃥𝘌̸ 𝘍̸𝗢⃥𝘙̸ 𝘛̸𝗛⃥𝘐̸𝗦⃥,̸” the eyeless-and-yet-also-eyeful abomination announced, glancing back and forth between Plier and Pat. 

Plier scoffed, fixing the floor with a withering glare. 

Pat folded each of his arms across his chest, softly clicking his teeth together. 

“​​𝗨⃥𝘏̸-⃥𝘏̸𝗨⃥𝘏̸,⃥ 𝗧⃥𝘏̸𝗔⃥𝘛̸'⃥𝘚̸ 𝘙̸𝗜⃥𝘎̸𝗛⃥𝘛̸.⃥ 𝗡⃥𝘖̸𝗪⃥,̸ 𝘓̸𝗘⃥𝘛̸'⃥𝘚̸ 𝘔̸𝗔⃥𝘒̸𝗘⃥ 𝗧⃥𝘏̸𝗜⃥𝘚̸ 𝘎̸𝗢⃥𝘋̸𝗙⃥𝘖̸𝗥⃥𝘌̸𝗦⃥𝘈̸𝗞⃥𝘌̸𝗡⃥ 𝗦⃥𝘏̸𝗢⃥𝘞̸ 𝘏̸𝗔⃥𝘗̸𝗣⃥𝘌̸𝗡⃥!” A sardonic chuckle seeped through the eyeless abomination’s teeth. He glided closer to the front wall of the tank, the copper vibrating as he drummed his talons against it. “𝗧⃥𝘏̸𝗘⃥𝘙̸𝗘⃥,̸ 𝘚̸𝗘⃥𝘌̸?⃥ 𝗠⃥𝘖̸𝗦⃥𝘌̸𝗦⃥ 𝗛⃥𝘈̸𝗦⃥ 𝗧⃥𝘏̸𝗘⃥ 𝗥⃥𝘐̸𝗚⃥𝘏̸𝗧⃥ 𝗜⃥𝘋̸𝗘⃥𝘈̸!⃥”

Catching movement out of the corner of his eye, Cruz turned his head to discover that Moses had been placing the pumpkin guts in a rather decorative circle around the live sacrifice.

“Thanks, Septic,” Moses replied, his tone implying a huge, crooked grin on his face. Once the bowl was empty, he set it off to the side and trotted over to stand by the eyele—er, Septic’s tank.

Septic cleared his throat, diving back down and out of sight for a few seconds before surging back up again. The misplaced eyes on his arms rolled in different directions, some staring at Sol while others scrutinized Cruz. 

Cruz swallowed a lump in his throat, nodding to signal cautious respect. 

“𝗬⃥𝘖̸𝗨⃥ 𝗚⃥𝘜̸𝗬⃥𝘚̸ 𝘒̸𝗡⃥𝘖̸𝗪⃥ 𝗪⃥𝘏̸𝗬⃥ 𝗬⃥𝘖̸𝗨⃥'̸𝗥⃥𝘌̸ 𝘏̸𝗘⃥𝘙̸𝗘⃥?̸” Septic inquired. 

“Absolutely!” Sol chimed, stepping forward and rocking back and forth on their heels.

“Of course,” Cruz reassured, moving a bit closer himself. 

“𝗚⃥𝘖̸𝗢⃥𝘋̸,⃥ 𝗚⃥𝘖̸𝗢⃥𝘋̸.⃥” Septic nodded. He then craned his neck, fixing his focus on the live sacrifice. 

Despite his position on the floor, the trapped victim seemed to immediately feel the monster’s gaze, as he started violently trembling and gibbering, though he already looked exhausted from all the useless struggling he’d done earlier.

“𝗪⃥𝘏̸𝗢⃥'̸𝗦⃥ 𝗧⃥𝘏̸𝗜⃥𝘚̸?⃥” Septic asked, glancing at Plier. 

“Oͫ̍h̍,̘ͣͩ ń̩͞ö́̅͌-ͦ͞o̗͋ͤn͎ͩ̿è͌ sp̝̖̌eͬͥc̔̔i̶al̜̄̓.͟..̈” A dangerous smile swept through Plier’s face. He lifted his chin, subtly puffing out his chest before slamming one of his claws down beside the victim, who recoiled with a shriek. “.̳̥ͤ.̞.ͬ̎̂j̶͊ü̮̹st̀ s̮o̜̽ṁ̹eͯͥ́ po̠̊ͩm̢̘p̎u͜sͣ̾ͬ l̘͂̑ȋ͕ͥt͜tle͢͞ bi̛̖ͬg-͑ͅs͎͇̄hͯot̗̔ f̬́̾r__om s͉o͕͍me C̫ͮ-̢Ḻ̞ͮi_̩͛s̢̙ͅṫ̞ s̕͜ṱ̹͆r̷e̿a͈͕̗mi̻n͌g͐̍ c̥o̦m̼ͤͤp̓a̤̋nÿ́́̅.”

Pat squinted down at the victim, shaking his head and offering a little tsk-tsk.

Septic hummed, a vague look of disgust crossing his features. “𝗪⃥𝘌̸𝗟⃥𝘓̸,⃥ 𝗧⃥𝘏̸𝗘⃥𝘙̸𝗘⃥'̸𝗦⃥ 𝗗⃥𝘌̸𝗙⃥𝘐̸𝗡⃥𝘐̸𝗧⃥𝘌̸𝗟⃥𝘠̸ 𝘞̸𝗔⃥𝘠̸ 𝘛̸𝗢⃥𝘖̸ 𝘔̸𝗔⃥𝘕̸𝗬⃥ 𝗢⃥𝘍̸ 𝘛̸𝗛⃥𝘖̸𝗦⃥𝘌̸ 𝘙̸𝗨⃥𝘕̸𝗡⃥𝘐̸𝗡⃥𝘎̸ 𝘈̸𝗥⃥𝘖̸𝗨⃥𝘕̸𝗗⃥.̸ 𝘋̸𝗜⃥𝘋̸ 𝘛̸𝗛⃥𝘐̸𝗦⃥ 𝗢⃥𝘕̸𝗘⃥ 𝗗⃥𝘖̸ 𝘈̸𝗡⃥𝘠̸𝗧⃥𝘏̸𝗜⃥𝘕̸𝗚⃥ 𝗦⃥𝘗̸𝗘⃥𝘊̸𝗜⃥𝘈̸𝗟⃥?̸ 𝘞̸𝗛⃥𝘠̸'⃥𝘋̸ 𝘠̸𝗢⃥𝘜̸ 𝘊̸𝗛⃥𝘖̸𝗦⃥𝘌̸ 𝘏̸𝗜⃥𝘔̸?⃥”

“He̊̀̈́'͠s̋ͥ b̳e̪̽͛e͉ͧň fuc̨̯͢k̶̿ǐǹġ̛̭ o͙v̸͇͐er tͩ̚h̅͟e̵̞͡ t͔eam̵̿́s͛̉ t̯͢ȟ̦ăt̞̫ h̀̓͟ã͙v̷̨e bͧèͨe̴͂n͗̐ w͇ͮ͊ö̀r̄͢ķ̙́iͧ͜n̸̙̆gͣ wiͫ̑th MY͌ t̺ḧ́e̫̙̫atͯ͢e̻͈ṟ̞ ḻ̾ate̲ly̾,̎́͜” Plier growled, his voice dropping through several octaves. “H̴͑̀e̼̊ͫ j̡us̈̂͟t̉ s̟ͫ͠ee̎m̾s̺_̟ âd̰dͫ͗i͈cte͈d t̹o̭̓̓ cͅh̥u̥͎ͦr͐̄͜n̯͜ͅińg͎̱̋ o͒̆͂u͆͠t_͛ c̸��̍ơ̗͡m̮̍ͦp̏let̿̿ͅeͭ a̷ndͣ t̶ǫ̨t͍̐aͨ́l SL̗͚_O͈P̭̊ b̵̟ͤe̙͉̪cä̳́us̓̈ḛ it̾'̨͑̚s͆͝ m̀̒ar͙ͫk̈͢͜et̐aͩb͜l̰̇͝e.̇ S̆͠e͕͊éͣms l̞̝̋ik͇̼͐ę͚̀ hȩ t̶h̽ͅrŏ̷̲w̲̦s̃ͭ a l̍̆iţͫͨt͛͘l̟̮͚é̃̿ tͪr̡͛͢aͧ́ͅnt̂r̮u̐ͧm w̘h̟̹̰en͎̳e͍ve̬r̴̮ h͇ͧe͘ g̀e̹̼ts̍͟ å̧_ w̴̺̉hi̛̹ff̯͊͘ o͜f̴̯ͭ cͤo͎ͭm͕ͥp͓͘e̶͋̃tiṭ̴ͮi̷͟o̜̩͘n̈.̵ͣ”

Cruz nodded solemnly. “I’m pretty sure he only visited the theater to try and find something to make a smear campaign about.”

“Wðw,” Pat blurted. “†hå†'§...†hå†'§ jµ§† åw£µl.” 

Though his voice was warped and scattered, there was no doubt how the shock and brief sympathy he’d spoken with was genuine. 

 “Sorry you had to deal with it,” Sol added, fidgeting with their jacket sleeves. 

Cruz could only shrug. “Well, it’s not like he’s gonna bother anyone much longer.”

“𝗘⃥𝘟̸𝗔⃥𝘊̸𝗧⃥𝘓̸𝗬⃥,̸” Septic grinned. “𝗜⃥𝘕̸ 𝘍̸𝗔⃥𝘊̸𝗧⃥,̸ 𝘛̸𝗛⃥𝘐̸𝗦⃥ 𝗦⃥𝘏̸𝗢⃥𝘜̸𝗟⃥𝘋̸𝗗⃥ 𝗚⃥𝘖̸ 𝘌̸𝗩⃥𝘌̸𝗡⃥ 𝗦⃥𝘔̸𝗢⃥𝘖̸𝗧⃥𝘏̸𝗘⃥𝘙̸ 𝘛̸𝗛⃥𝘈̸𝗡⃥ 𝗜⃥ 𝗧⃥𝘏̸𝗢⃥𝘜̸𝗚⃥𝘏̸𝗧⃥ 𝗜⃥𝘛̸ 𝘞̸𝗢⃥𝘜̸𝗟⃥𝘋̸!⃥ 𝗬⃥'̸𝗞⃥𝘕̸𝗢⃥𝘞̸,⃥ 𝗖⃥𝘖̸𝗡⃥𝘚̸𝗜⃥𝘋̸𝗘⃥𝘙̸𝗜⃥𝘕̸𝗚⃥ 𝗛⃥𝘌̸ 𝘈̸𝗖⃥𝘛̸𝗨⃥𝘈̸𝗟⃥𝘓̸𝗬⃥ 𝗗⃥𝘌̸𝗦⃥𝘌̸𝗥⃥𝘝̸𝗘⃥𝘚̸ 𝘞̸𝗛⃥𝘈̸𝗧⃥'̸𝗦⃥ 𝗔⃥𝘉̸𝗢⃥𝘜̸𝗧⃥ 𝗧⃥𝘖̸ 𝘏̸𝗔⃥𝘗̸𝗣⃥𝘌̸𝗡⃥.̸”

He flicked his wrist and snapped his claws twice. 

Instantly, the other two occupied tanks began to tremble and hum. The corpses floating inside them seemed to twitch, their heads snapping up and forcing their lifeless eyes to stare at the metallic ceilings of their makeshift tombs. 

The fluid all around them seemed to begin stirring on itself, creating a soft, slow whirlpool with them in the center. 

Dark red clouds began to billow off of them, their silhouettes getting fainter and blurrier until they completely vanished into the new haze. After that, the movement stopped. 

And then, a low chorus of bubbling and gurgling filled the air, almost like a bathtub being drained. 

Cruz glanced down just in time to see a thick line of blood oozing out through the crevices in the metal. It moved like it was magnetized, like it was a sentient being; it slithered across the floor, just barely trickling against the soles of his shoes.

The other tank copied this gesture, and two viscous carmine threads spilled their way around and beneath the live sacrifice until he was lying in a shallow, perfectly circular pool.

The metallic stench of iron meeting the rich, earthy scent of pumpkin guts…it was certainly an interesting smell. 

Cruz glanced back at the tanks; save for a few thin, stubborn layers of blood still clinging to the inner walls, as well as assortments of gleaming, picked-clean bones sitting at the bottoms in piles, they were now completely empty.

The live sacrifice kept squirming, kept sobbing as the vital fluid licked at his skin. 

“...Why do pumpkin guts have to be included, again?” Moses asked, sounding genuinely curious as he gazed at the mess. 

Pat raised a brow, idly stretching his back and arms in a way that would’ve made even the toughest contortionist on Earth pass out. 

“ßê墵§ê þµmþkïñ ï§ Ðêlï¢ïðµ§,” he answered, voice dripping with incredulousness. He then gestured toward Plier. “̆'§ ðñê 𣠆hê ðñl¥ †hïñg§ HÈ åñÐ Ì ¢åñ ågrêê ðñ.” 

Plier, much to Cruz’s surprise, nodded vigorously. “Yͤeaͧ̉h̖̤ͬ.͕̇ Ȁ͎ͥre̩̭͝n̿͞'͆ţ̐ hͣu̬̐̍m̸̧ͬḁn͂͝͞s̎̓ o̔ḃ̕se͇s̴͔ͅsͫ́e̙d̝ wit̀̅h̥ p̛u̧m̫͐p̃͞k͕̟iͬ̌n͓-͚ͫ͊s̝͑͝p͘i̲̼c̈́̔ed̾̐ s̡̆t̡̬̻u̢͝f̲fͯ arou̬nd̦͚̃ t̼͠h̞̑ͬḯ͢s s͎̓̑ea͆s̞̳̔o͍n͗?”

“Ah, I mean…” Sol replied, a cringe more than evident in their voice. “There’s never really been a straightforward answer to that question.” 

Cruz, feeling the same inexplicable pain, cleared his throat. “So, I’m guessing that even all this blood still isn’t enough?” 

“'̨ͣ̿F͡r̊a͙̍͢id̬͉͚ no͛̐͡t,” Plier replied, a knowing smirk on his face. 

Cruz nodded. 

He, Sol, and Moses all stepped closer to the huge puddle of gore. 

Cruz fished his gut-hook skinner blade from his pocket. He watched as Sol slipped a flint-striker knife from somewhere inside their jacket. Moses, meanwhile, produced a long corkscrew topped by a duck-shaped handle from his breast-pocket. 

“Oh, god…” Sol murmured, an exasperated chuckle floating up from their lungs. 

The way Moses hummed indicated that there was a smug smirk spreading across his features. Somehow, he must’ve guessed that Cruz’s face was lined with confusion under his mask. 

“...What? What’s so funny about a duck corkscrew?” Cruz blurted. 

“Oh, you sweet summer child,” Moses shook his head in a pitying manner. “It’s not for me to tell. But if you really wanna know, just look up ‘The Truth About Ducks’ when you get home.” 

Plier sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth, suddenly avoiding Cruz’s gaze. 

“Öðh, †hå†'§ ñð† gðññå gð wêll.” Pat muttered, shaking his head.

Cruz sputtered a bit before deciding that he could simply put a pin in whatever mess he apparently wasn’t up to date about and come back to it later. 

He got back to business, gliding the blade of his weapon over the skin of his palm. Cold steel bit into flesh easily, leaving a bright, stinging sensation in its wake. 

Sol did pretty much the same with their striker-knife.

Moses took a deep breath before pushing the tip of his corkscrew deep into the pad of his thumb. 

The three of them held their injured hands out, letting a few fat, rich droplets of their blood fall into the shallow pool below them with a few anticlimactic plops.

“𝗧⃥𝘏̸𝗔⃥𝘛̸ 𝘚̸𝗛⃥𝘖̸𝗨⃥𝘓̸𝗗⃥ 𝗕⃥𝘌̸ 𝘎̸𝗢⃥𝘖̸𝗗⃥,” Septic announced with a nod. He then reached up toward the surface of his tank. With a chorus of organic snaps, his arm was suddenly stretching out through the hatch, the luminescent bones inside all bent and twisted in horrible ways. He held malformed hand directly over the live sacrifice, claws bent, ready to strike. “𝗦⃥𝘏̸𝗔⃥𝘓̸𝗟⃥ 𝗪⃥𝘌̸,⃥ 𝗚⃥𝘌̸𝗡⃥𝘛̸𝗦⃥?̸”

“Ì Ððñ'† §êê wh¥ ñð†,” Pat replied. The skin of his forehead twitched, and an eye bloomed out, almost like a flower. It was larger than his primaries, even darker than his void-esque complexion, with a tiny pale iris floating about its center. 

“Mì̥͔ght̂ a̐s w͈̖ͣe̵lͤl,” Plier admitted. All sixteen of his eyes turned pitch-black, now oozing with oily tears that painted little rivers along the angles of his face. 

The two monsters each outstretched their palms, using their free talons to draw a deep, bloody X into their skin. Septic, meanwhile, pushed his claws into a fist so tight that little steaming droplets eventually squeezed out from between his fingers. 

Once it seemed that enough abomination-juice had been added to the mix, they all retracted their arms. 

Pat slid back and nudged Sol’s shoulder. “†hï§ ï§ whêrê ï† gꆧ ïñ†êr꧆ïñg.” 

And indeed it was. 

The blood started to fester and steam and bubble. That bubbling quickly evolved into a rolling boil as the red started moving, churning in a circle that slowly grew faster. 

Even with his mask on, Cruz’s eyes watered as a smell like volcanic ash, acid, salt, and horror all mixed into some kind of surreal smoothie quickly filled the air.

Whatever the pool was made of…it wasn’t blood anymore. 

It was now a substance that shouldn’t exist.

The live sacrifice let out a truly horrific scream. More depserate and unhinged and feral than any of his earlier cries. The fluid ate into his flesh as it splashed around him, leaving awful lacerations that quickly began melting. 

“Tͭha̕͞t̋̄'̱̀s i͂̌t͚͍̉!ͦ” Plier crowed. “Al̸͉̾l̫ of͕ͭ͘ y̏͟o̵ͩͅu̬͋̆,͈ͅ ge̤̦t͙ b͜͞ac̈́͘k͙͞! D̖o̩ń͚ͦ'̳ͅt l͐͐̈́e̗͓t̛̬ tͪḧ͚ẽ̇ sta̘řś̳̉ t̿͛ͦo̯͊u̸̎c͉̄h͘͠ y͝ou͊̈͊!͟”

Moses immediately ducked behind Septic’s tank. 

Sol backed away, obviously struggling to not look at what was unfolding as Pat raised one of his arms to shield them.

Cruz barely even registered the weight on his shoulder before he was stumbling back into the wall, well out of reach of the pool of gore. And there he sat, transfixed, watching as Plier’s back-thorns twitch and shrank back to reveal a mass of light that seemed to pulse, singing in a language he’d never be able to understand.

Across the room, Pat did the same; the teeth lining his stomach-mouth finally pulled away from one another, releasing the star he’d personally captured. 

As for Septic…well, it was a bit hard to see from his position, but Cruz still managed to watch as Septic plucked the largest eye out from the center of his chest. A third star flew from the now hollow socket, surging out out the tank’s hatch.

As the pool’s churning grew faster and stronger, the air began to thicken and whistle. 

The stars all tried to pull away, likely desperate to escape back to the sky, or wherever place they’d been harvested from. 

But whatever gravitational pull the pool had just couldn’t be escaped. 

One by one, the stars were effectively sucked into the center of the pool, where all that, brilliant, silvery light combined and contorted. 

The live sacrifice let out one final, bloodcurdling death-rattle as the light soaked all over his form in a near-blinding cocoon. 

As if encouraged by that, the horrific mixture of human blood, eldritch blood, and pumpkin guts was suddenly vacuumed up toward the center, all spiraling around, shrinking as it moved faster and faster and faster and…!

And then it was gone. 

Just like that.

Not a single stain was left behind. Not a scrap of gristle remained of the live sacrifice.

(Was it correct to call him live anymore? There was a good chance that he still was, since this tuff always worked in such odd ways. And if he was still breathing, Cruz knew without a shadow of a doubt that he was wishing he couldn’t.)

“𝗪⃥𝘌̸𝗟⃥𝘓̸.⃥.̸.⃥” Septic announced, cringing as he pushed that eyeball back into its chest-socket, where it blinked and rolled a few times to get readjusted. “𝗧⃥𝘏̸𝗔⃥𝘛̸'⃥𝘚̸ 𝘛̸𝗛⃥𝘈̸𝗧⃥.̸” 

Pat hummed assent, his forehead-eye slowly-but-surely sinking back into his flesh. 

Plier shook himself, scrubbing the abyssal tears from his face as the hellish glow returned to all of his eyes.

Moses crept out from behind Septic’s tank. 

Sol stepped forward, staring at the spot where all the gore used to be “...That went by much faster than I thought it would.” 

“†hê ¢l姧 ålw奧 Ðð,” Pat replied, shrugging. 

“𝗕⃥𝘜̸𝗧⃥ 𝗜⃥𝘛̸ 𝘈̸𝗟⃥𝘓̸ 𝘞̸𝗘⃥𝘕̸𝗧⃥ 𝗢⃥𝘍̸𝗙⃥ 𝗪⃥𝘐̸𝗧⃥𝘏̸𝗢⃥𝘜̸𝗧⃥ 𝗠⃥𝘜̸𝗖⃥𝘏̸ 𝘖̸𝗙⃥ 𝗔⃥ 𝗛⃥𝘐̸𝗧⃥𝘊̸𝗛⃥,̸” Septic declared. He nodded to Moses, Sol, and Cruz in turn. “𝗬⃥𝘖̸𝗨⃥ 𝗔⃥𝘓̸𝗟⃥ 𝗣⃥𝘓̸𝗔⃥𝘠̸𝗘⃥𝘋̸ 𝘠̸𝗢⃥𝘜̸𝗥⃥ 𝗣⃥𝘈̸𝗥⃥𝘛̸𝗦⃥ 𝗣⃥𝘌̸𝗥⃥𝘍̸𝗘⃥𝘊̸𝗧⃥𝘓̸𝗬⃥.̸”

Cruz nodded back, smiling. “Glad to hear it.” 

Sol visibly perked up, seeming to have gotten all their energy back in the blink of an eye. “Thank you!”

Moses wiped his hands in an overexaggerated gesture. “All in a night’s work.”

For a few long seconds, there was silence. 

As he tucked his gut-hook skinner back into its leather sheath, Cruz decided to break it: “So…is there anything left to do?” 

Septic offered a long, theatrical, conspiratory hum. “...𝗡⃥𝘖̸𝗣⃥𝘌̸. 𝗧⃥𝘏̸𝗔⃥𝘛̸'⃥𝘚̸ 𝘞̸𝗛⃥𝘠̸ 𝘐̸'⃥𝘔̸ 𝘎̸𝗢⃥𝘕̸𝗡⃥𝘈̸ 𝘎̸𝗢⃥ 𝗙⃥𝘐̸𝗡⃥𝘋̸ 𝘚̸𝗢⃥𝘔̸𝗘⃥ 𝗢⃥𝘍̸ 𝘛̸𝗛⃥𝘖̸𝗦⃥𝘌̸ 𝘊̸𝗢⃥𝘓̸𝗗⃥𝘞̸𝗢⃥𝘔̸𝗕⃥ 𝗟⃥𝘌̸𝗘⃥𝘊̸𝗛⃥𝘌̸𝗦⃥ 𝗜⃥ 𝗦⃥𝘈̸𝗪⃥ 𝗗⃥𝘜̸𝗥⃥𝘐̸𝗡⃥𝘎̸ 𝘛̸𝗛⃥𝘌̸ 𝘚̸𝗧⃥𝘈̸𝗥⃥-̸𝗛⃥𝘜̸𝗡⃥𝘛̸!⃥”

The monster then surged downward, disappearing from his tank and from view entirely. His toxic green glow followed suite, soon casting the basement into shadows.

“CͅoldW͓om͔̉̇b͆̄ Lͅe̝e̱c̬ͤh͎̑͠es̡͍̐?̼̏!̣͖” Plier let out a surprised gasp that seemed to sizzle through the air. “Hey,͠ g̠̽et b̵͖̭a͌͢c̣k̏͑̏ he̥̿́r̺̊e!͚͟ Ỉ̧ͤ ŝ̬aͧ̀w t̶̯͙hẻͨm͊ f̒́̍i̴͇͂r̢̛̊s͇t͆!”

He scuttled across the floor, lunging at the tank…and immediately colliding with Pat, who had just started to climb up its sides himself. 

“Lïkê hêll ¥ðµ ÐïÐ!” Pat snarled, shoving Plier away. His form seemed to dissipating into a shroud of ink and eyes and chattering mouths as pushed himself through the hatch and into the liquid below, quickly swimming down in the same path Septic had. “Ì ¢låïmêÐ †hêm! †hê¥'rê MÌñÈ!”

“N̵̼̙o̘ͫ t͇̪ḧ̥ͧey'̯ͩre͢ n̢̾o̬͂t̅!̐ͯ̈́” Plier protested, furious. He shoved his way through the hatch, his body crumpling and bending in all manner of grotesque ways in order to fit. And soon enough, he was swimming too. “D̹oͮ͑̾n͓'̸t͇ y̒͒o̯̔ų̈́ d̶a͍̼̫re t̯̂ő̒u̷cͮͥ̄h̵̘ 'ëm!͐̾̿ I'̏̐m̏́͐ g̷̢on͊na g̮ḛ̅ͨțͤ t̯̟͂h̘͌͋e͙̫̎r̡e f̺į̶ͤrst͙,̱̰ añ̞̾d̑̈ t̢̬h͠en I_'̐m̌ͮ g̖on͖̦̒na̹̓ e̝at̆͠ '̖e̙ͨm̤̠ a͗ͣl̩l i̵͌n fr̀o̽́n͆t o̺ͪ͌f̝ y͔̕ou̒!”

The twisted voices all crawled grew more and more distant, more and more muffled. The shouts, the arguing, all the promises of dismemberment and such eventually grew so faint that they were almost comparable to whispers. But they never faded completely; wherever the monsters were all headed, it was still somewhere beneath The Oozing Crown.

Cruz pursed his lips as he slowly removed his mask. “They’re probably gonna be occupied for a while.”

“Yeah,” Sol agreed, running a hand through their ginger hair as they took their own mask off. They gave Moses an apologetic look. “I could just start driving back to the museum, but…I don’t know, it doesn’t feel right to leave without Pat.”

After a slight pause, they added, “Plus, I’m pretty sure I need him to guide me away from this place. The roads I had to take on the way are all just so…wrong.” 

“Same here,” Cruz agreed with a nod, thinking about to the headless deer-things he’d seen beside his car hours earlier. 

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” Moses reassured, lightly shaking his head as he pulled the mask away. He considered the situation for a second, then threw his thumb over his shoulder at the catwalk, that the basement door. “...I’ve got some movies upstairs, if you guys are interested.”

@sammys-magical-au @inkbedou @nwtbobsessedemo

[cruzrogue]

Arrow's Horizon

This is a fic that has risen due to a fic idea posted on this A03 site. Oliver becomes a dad to William, is a husband, still gets shipwrecked, leaving behind a wife.

Chapter 1 Home base - Oliver finds out he is a dad. Fears losing Felicity

In this story, Felicity is only 2 years younger than Oliver. The chapters are roughly 4 pages each (using word)

This is a completed story. The next chapter will be published in 3-4 days and the others will be on some set time table.

Chapter 1 Home Base

Felicity finds Oliver exactly where his mother said he’d be. His favorite thinking spot. Located at the outskirts of his family’s estate. Sitting on a tree stump overlooking a stream that is generously full due to the recent rainstorm. She knows he can hear her make her way towards him. He doesn’t skip a beat as he continues pitching rocks upon the body of water as the silence between them endures.

Finding a log nearby. She waits to be acknowledged.

Coming to Starling City for a few days during a weeklong school break. Oliver had her come here to meet his family. Now that they are more than just friends. Their next stop is Las Vegas to officially meet her mom. Everything is moving nicely she thinks. She really, really likes him.

Felicity doesn’t glance at Oliver as he is still throwing the stones into the flowing stream. Keeping her attention on the skips the pebble makes against the water.

Oliver had a visitor yesterday. Since then, he’s made some elaborate excuses to be alone. Giving her forced smiles. Leaving her to go to bed wondering if they were alright. Since walking onto a meeting between Oliver and some girl she has never met before. His whole demeanor is of someone who now has the whole world on his shoulders.

They both are known to need time to process whatever ails them alone. It never boarders on more than a day. Felicity isn’t pushy in that department but being that she is here in Starling. Away from her comfort zone. She feels that Oliver needs to understand that and maybe open up to her sooner rather than later.

Oliver in a low raspy whisper finally speaks, “I’m sorry.”

Felicity now able to see him clearly notices the red eyes. She has never in their time of acquaintance seen him cry. He is usually so upbeat.

“Oliver?” She wants to add something else, but the words don’t flow out fast enough as her boyfriend falls to his knees before her. It isn’t a romantic scene where one would see in a movie. No. This moment is in some ridiculous romantic flick where it looks to be the end for the couple. His name makes it out of her lips before he finally sheds some light on what is tormenting him.

“It was before you and I became a couple. I need you to know that.” She doesn’t know what he is trying to say. The confusion must show on her face as he clarifies, “You know that time I went out with the guys because I finally ended it with Laurel?”

She nods. Felicity was the creator of his moodboard for almost a month of listening to Oliver count the pros and cons of his relationship with his high school sweetheart. So many images, pieces of text hung on a board to help him visualize his desires. Going to college has opened his views on what he wants in life. If truth be told. Meeting Felicity has curbed a good faction of his partying ways.

“I was finally free.”

Not knowing where he is going with all this, “Okay.”

“I messed up.” He swiftly gets up and begins to walk away which has Felicity almost ready to bolt after him. When he stops and walks closer to her. She can breathe slightly easier as it looks that his intent is to pace back and forth as he continues his story.

When he finally gets to the part of his dilemma that has her gasp in shock. He knows he is about to lose the girl that owns his heart. He is scared shitless. Even so, he owes her the truth.

Oliver’s been out here alone thinking of how his life is going to dramatically change. Scared of losing Felicity Smoak to a mistake that he’s been regarding for the last few hours with a heavy heart.

Finding out Samantha Clayton is pregnant with his child. Coming to him knowing she is going to keep his baby. Everything changed in a blink of an eye. He is going to be a father.

Oliver finally stops pacing to face the music. He tells her everything.

In an unsteady breath knowing that whatever answer Oliver has could change everything, “What does this girl require of you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Does she require you to try and playhouse with her? Is it financial?”

“We didn’t discuss anything in detail. Just…”

“That she is pregnant with your baby.” He nods.

“Felicity, I know this shifts how you’ll feel…” Her hand goes up to indicate for him to stop. He still adds, “I am so very sorry.”

She knows he is. In her heart she knows Oliver would never do anything to inflict pain on her. They got to know each other since meeting in a library. His inability to guide himself around a library's catalogue made her have pity on him. Turning her into the friendly guide that opened his world to library books. Nothing like the beginning of a friendship while teaching him how to identify and use a call number to find a specific book.

His sincerity pulls on her heart strings. Like him, she’ll need some alone time.

It doesn’t change the fact of how she feels. She is truly, madly, deeply in love with Oliver Jonas Queen. If bringing her here to meet his parents is any indication. His I adore you, you’re remarkable, and his soft voice that he uses when they’re just being them. He is also over-the-moon with her.

“Oliver.” His reaction is to look away, so she places her hands upon his face. Making sure she can glance into those saddened eyes, “I’ll need to figure my place in all this. That is if you’ll still want me in your life.”

He is up from his kneeling position, “Of course, I want you. I just don’t deserve you.”

Jumping to her feet. She isn’t letting him go.

“Hogwash!” For a brief second. There is a levity in his eyes, “Forget I just said that. You know what I mean. I am not walking away from you. Not saying all this won’t be tough.”

“Its nothing like the Cooper situation. A baby is a lifelong commitment.”

“Well, if you weren’t there to pull me back. I could have been a lifelong inmate in Guantanamo Bay or some fancy cyber jail.”

He cracks a smile, “I don’t think they send blondes there.”

“I’m actually…” He can’t help but sweep her off her feet. Their lips connecting. Felicity being in his arms brings optimism that wasn’t there when he came out here to agonize over some life choices. She brings balance and with her here. He can hope.

He almost blurs out how much he loves her. Glad to have caught himself from that blunder. Saying it now could confuse Felicity. She might think it’s not sincere. When he says it. It’s got to be at the right time where the woman he loves understands his words are true.

Felicity eyeing the small gathering of pebbles Oliver piled up beside the tree stump.

“Why don’t you go back home. Your parents are worried.”

“I don’t know what to tell them.”

With a hand on his arm, she tells him to be honest. Nodding to Felicity’s words a small moment of silence stretches between them.

“Okay then. I’m going to sit here for a while. Deplete a portion of your mighty impressive pile of rocks.”

“Wish me luck.”

Giving Oliver a quick hug they depart. Oliver heads back to his family’s home as Felicity takes a seat to contemplate the new norm of what their world will entail.

[ill-skillsgard]

Bred For Blood - Part 17 - The White Flag

Title: Bred For Blood

Warning: 18+ - sex/mature language & themes/gun violence/substance abuse etc. *mentions of blood/injuries/death/weapons/coma/unconsciousness in this part*

Characters: AU Axel Cluney, AU Ivar Lothbrok, AU Valter x OC

Description:  A bright, young survivor meets an acid-gun slinging headhunter with a knack for melting faces and connections to a prodigal Utopia embedded in the heart of a deadly forest. Violence and passion incite a battle of fealty while betrayal nips at Zed’s heels.

Note: This one’s for Team Cluney. I really hope you guys enjoy reading! This part was very exciting for me to write for many reasons. Please reblog/like/comment if you like my work and want to give me a virtual pat on the head. I would really appreciate it, please and thank you!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16

The doctor stomped over the rocky terrain, muttering and snickering to himself as the sun cast blistering rays on their backs. The heat never bothered him, only tanned his skin to a deep brown shine. It was the walking that made his knees burn. He'd long since shed his white coat to cover the bulk of the man draped over Rudie's wiry-haired hump, trudging along at leisure. The unconscious hunter he'd found needed all the protection available from the vicious star reaching its highest point in the sky.

The doctor halted his gangly steed every hour to force a measure of water down the burnt man's ululating throat. He often succeeded, and the hunter swallowed without issue, but sometimes, the water came back up as white foam, trickling down the sides of his face and down his neck. The onset of heatstroke turned his skin apple-red, and the doctor sprayed him down with water and gusts of hot air produced by a tattered paper fan he carried with him to ward off flies. Rudie attracted the pests who made a chariot out of the man on the camel's back. They fled their caravan whenever the doctor stopped to check on his patient and settled back in for the ride after he threw the stained coat back over the hunter's burnt shoulders. This went on until nightfall when the dry land showed signs of mercy, and water and shale gave way to the soil. 

Rudie let out a guttural complaint when they reached a crop of tall, spindly trees. The diamond-shaped leaves provided shade. The doctor tethered the bleating animal, pressing his finger to his lips for a silence that would not come. Upon unsaddling the groaning man, Rudie threw his hump and sent Axel slumping to the ground, his deadweight at odds with a lengthy fall. His head cracked on a root, and a dusting of earth dried his palette, clinging to everything pink in his mouth. The camel clopped away from the whining mass who'd hitched a ride on his back, and in his wobbling dance, mashed the smallest of Axel's fingers into the soil. 

"Rudie! You bumbling old idiot! You gaffer! Shoo!"

The beast side-stepped, snorting and sputtering, indifferent to the further damage done to the man. He shook his proud head, throwing ropes of spit that webbed his lashes. The doctor punished the creature by re-wrapping Axel's hand after a stern disinfecting, withholding the proverbial oats until the animal wandered away to dine on low-hanging leaves. Rudie chuffed whenever the doctor came to retrieve supplies from the riding satchel.

"That wasn't very nice, Rude. This man is our patient! We don't trample the patients. You've no idea the level of harm you caused! He'll be lucky if we don't have to amputate, and you don't have thumbs, so you're even more useless!"

Rudie wrapped his leathery lips around a clutch of grass and ripped it free, chewing and turning away from his master and the unconscious fellow. The camel minded his business and relieved himself on a nearby rock, huffing and chomping any strand of green he sniffed. 

Axel vomited throughout the night. The doctor gave up his rest to make sure the man lying comatic didn't swallow his tongue. Then came the shivering and sickly shade of purple flaking his lips. Flaps of the doctor's paper fan spread droplets over his inflamed skin, another courtesy at the behest of his sore arm. Still, Axel moaned and scratched at the earth beneath him in bloody heat and delirium. 

"If you can hang on until tomorrow, son, perhaps we'll find some proper shade and build a hut. Hm? How's that sound? Shade and water. For now, just rest, and don't die on me." 

When the sun came up, the doctor cleaned Axel using the rest of the clean water from his reserve and stitched the open flesh splitting his eyebrow in two.

"That'll leave a nasty scar. Not that you need any more ruggedness in your act. You're just a lost soldier, sonny. But maybe one day you'll make a brilliant assistant. Better than Rudie, I hope. He hasn't even apologized for breaking your finger. Lookit him over there, shitting all over the camp, the scoundrel. But I'm the one with the oats; therefore, I make the rules!"

"M-muh... muuuh."

"Ah, in the worst of times, we still call our mothers."

"Mmph. Muh—"

"I wonder what's on the other side of those trees," the doctor said, shading his eyes with his hand, peering to the West. "You look well-travelled, sonny. Any ideas? Hate to run into any of those yawners, not knowing when your last shot was. But I suppose I shouldn't expect any valuable input from a man who can't look me in the eye."

After patching him up, the man hauled Axel to a stand and hoisted him onto the camel's back using a tree for leverage and a series of ropes to fasten him down. Once secured to Rudie's hump, the doctor took a few minutes to catch his breath. "Dunno how many more times I can get you up there, son. You must learn how to walk soon. Or I'll build you a sleigh. But that might take some time."

Far off above the foggy treeline, a sheet of ashy cloud broke to reveal bright blue sky. The doctor liked the look of cerulean and the absence of sand, so the begrimed trio lumbering through thick bush where dew still clung to the undersides of the leaves. The doctor went ahead, collecting globules before they evaporated. Rudie answered the doctor's constant rhetoric with wild groans that muffled Axel's whimpering, and they led their procession over uncertain ground.

"I reckon there's nothing but more trees over that ridge, Mr. Soldier. Maybe some mountains we can find a crevice to hide out in. Just until you get your strength back. The only thing I worry about is those damn yawners. Rudie and I will be safe, but you... I'll scout ahead to make sure it's clear. It'll rack up daylight, but you'll thank me when you're not a bubbling pile of soldier juice. Don't worry, sonny. They didn't immunize me for no reason! I count myself among the elites, but that doesn't mean I fancy myself better than you or more deserving of life. We're all in this, you see. Brights and Uns... We're still together, despite it all. They may have tried to kill you, but look at you now! Alive and well. Isn't that a slap in the face? They send you out to war and hope you never come back. They don't even have the decency to immunize you. What a world we live in."

Rudie let out a gaseous bellow. The doctor whipped around and pointed his walking stick at the quadruped. "Don't interrupt, you vile sow. Nobody needs a camel's opinion."

"Ma... Ma."

"We'll look for your mama after we get you looking presentable. Hang on tight, we're going uphill!"

As the ridge climbed, the trees grew denser. The doctor had to guide his camel through a maze of mossy trunks. Thin, whip-like branches prodded at Axel's tender skin. What leafy arms brushed Rudie's head bent back and snapped against the hunter's raw shoulders. Axel didn't notice, lost in the chimeric slurry of recent injuries. They maneuvered over stones and wove between crumbling stumps, avoiding the deadfalls. The steepled ground sloped upward like a great brown ramp of torn earth. Through the thickness, they muttered, minding their footwork, up and up, stopping here and there so the doctor could take in a few wheezing breaths. The camel—finally wary of obstacles—blew wind and groaned, hesitant on the incline. 

"Boy, there had better be some more forgiving land over this ledge. I don't think it's workable to keep climbing. We might have to turn back, depending on what I see at the top. Fingers crossed for a lake. A bath would do me good," said the doctor, fanning his underarms and thighs with the paper fan.

"What do you say, Mr. Soldier? Should we keep going? See if there's anything worthwhile over that lip?"

"Muh."

"That's what I thought. You may not be the finest soldier I've ever met, but you're persistent, and that's key. Come on, fellas. Let's pray for water, and up we go! Can't be worse than the blasted desert."

~*~

Ivar's mood reflected his recent successes in bed. When Trinity brought his meal, he thanked her, even asking about her morning and if she was sleeping all right and eating properly. Trinity laughed nervously, sensing a test, and answered with a practiced air of casualty. Did he know of the plan they'd executed to get Zed in to see him? Was his toothy smile a front? Despite her unease, she humoured the leader and left when he dug into his stew and fresh bread. Trinity also noted Zed's absence, and with the King in lively spirits, assumed everything had gone well with the plan.

Ivar inhaled his late breakfast and dressed for comfort to walk the courtyard. With a bounce in his step, he traversed the throat of the Chrysalis, emerging on the other side to a nest bereft of activity. The morning stalls had cleared out, their occupants and merchants returned to their hovels. Even the young ones—usually at play in the courtyard by now—were nowhere in sight.

Ivar passed by the last remaining group gathered around a low podium, whispering over their berry reductions and leafy salads. Like a cluster of threatened barnacles, each mouth clamped as Ivar strode past. He held his head forward, flexing his palette to clear his airways. None of them made a sound until he was far enough away. Their chattering was undiscernible as distant chirping birds. He stopped at the incline of a foothill, spinning to catch them staring at the back of his head. They snatched their eyes away and made like they weren't gawking.

That wasn't the only peculiar thing that happened to Ivar that morning. Since his prolonged absence, the people seemed to have grown used to keeping to themselves. There was no merriment in the air, only sterile drafts pouring in from the filtration system. Ivar shivered from the brisk air, stopping to consider paying Zed a visit at her apartment. A morbid urge pulled him along, and he continued his walk. Ivar waited until somebody approached him—whether it a man or child—to greet him with customary courtesy. Still, nobody shuffled forward to ask him about his day or to offer him a portion of their recent gardening. 

Ivar reached the frosted glass doors to the lab and stood still, thick hands hovering next to his narrow hips. Frozen in place, Ivar bit the tip of his tongue. Something told him Zed was inside the lab, and if he wished to see her, he had to set foot beyond the parameters of his expertise. The lab always put him in a bitter mood. It was the only place in the village that wasn't for him. Though he could visit any corner of Kinderfeld he wanted, he'd never felt welcome in the laboratory. The floors and surfaces' sterility made him cower from touching anything, and the lifeless stares he received from the few staff only reminded him of the responsibilities he'd shunned in favour of hedonism. None of them ever begrudged him his appetites, but he was confident they whispered of his ineptitude behind his back.

He wondered if Zed ever talked about him or if she'd ever vocalized displeasures regarding his leadership. Her request from the day before echoed in the corners of his mind, festering and swelling each hour they were apart. There was a bitter drop of ulterior motive in Zed's visit, and he let it slide down the back of his throat when she asked him to open the gate. But they'd made love, and that was more than Ivar expected. In his heart of hearts, he'd feared Zed would demand more; to let her fly the nest in search of Axel, but she'd taken his refusal graciously and kissed him all the same. Still, a nagging suspicion remained. Something was circulating in the air, whipping about the courts and apartments, squeezing under doorways and filling the citizens with doubts.

A stranger on his own land, Ivar lowered his eyes to the ground and turned away from the lab before he recognized any more scrutinizing glances. He powered along, ignoring the guards, their dutiful nods, cutting over the knolls as fast as his muscular thighs could take him without breaking into a run. The loneliness chased him back to his palace, and even its mouth gaped in question. 

Ivar noticed Sheraya nearby, spreading dark red petals, a gained cigar of smoking sage held between her fingers. He craved nicotine the moment the fumes peppered his nostrils. Tears coursed down her round cheeks, though she made no sobs, no whimpers. There was only gentle muttering under her breath and more tears. The king stood waiting for her to acknowledge him and then realized she had no intention of breaking her prayer mantra. 

Shunned, Ivar turned away, retreating to his house of lush fabric and solitude where he should never have left.

~*~

Vee insisted Zed stay put while he fetched them dinner. Their setting was the top floor of the greenhouse where he'd played cards and got drunk with his brother some nights. Nobody ever bothered them up there. Zed sat in waiting, enjoying the greenery, the twisting vines and canary yellow zucchini blooms. She stretched an arm out to pluck a flower and nibble its petals. Her stomach gurgled for heavier fare, so she ate another. Vee didn't keep her waiting long after, showing up with a basket of seed-crusted bread and a bowl of sliced potatoes slathered in basil paste and cooked to a crisp. For dessert, he brought dried fruit and freshly harvested cashews. 

Moonlight vaulted through the trees, defusing over the glass and casting milky shadows on the greenhouse floor. The air was moist with freshly irrigated soil. Baked in the dimness, Zed couldn't take her eyes off the man sitting in front of her. He'd brought with him the game from their youth, but neither of them suggested opening the box. They smiled as they ate, breathing in the deep aromas and savouring their food together. And in the balmy atmosphere decked in silver light, Zed swore Vee was his brother's twin. Her heart shuddered in remembrance. It was what brought them together; the shared sense of guilt and the strengthening suspicion they'd both lost someone, both failed and scorned by the people who'd invested too much faith in their competence. Zed felt at peace beside him.

The scientist was still a welcome member of the village, hence his aptitude for finding rarer delicacies like wine and ripe figs. They split the skins and scooped out the sweet innards, indulging their tongues on the fruit as if it was the richest of luxuries.

"You know what I would absolutely love to eat again?" Zed asked, sucking seeds from between her teeth.

"Popsicles," Vee answered.

"Close, but no. Chocolate ice cream. I'd kill for some chocolate ice cream right now. "

Vee shook his head. "No way. Strawberry all the way."

"A hot fudge sundae with peanuts and a big maraschino cherry."

"Peanut butter sauce."

"Oh, my God. Don't say that," Zed groaned.

"It's so good. I can't remember the last time I had ice cream. Remember when you could walk a couple blocks in the Summer and buy an ice cream cone?"

Zed smiled, but the thought pricked her memory. "The last time I got ice cream was with my Dad. I got the biggest chocolate sundae, with peanut butter cups and chocolate sprinkles. He told me there was a full day-and-a-half's worth of calories in it, but I didn't care. It was after a soccer game. I didn't like soccer, but if I went to practice every week and scored at least one goal, he'd take me out for ice cream. Two goals meant I got ice cream and five dollars."

Zed sighed, continuing, "I hate thinking about the last times. Like at one point, you did something for the very last time. The last trip for ice cream. The last time you told someone you loved them."

"If you hate thinking about last times, then why are you doing it right now?" Vee asked, eyes blank as discs.

She grimaced, reaching out to touch the toe of her shoe to his, then softening her face. "I can't help it sometimes. Don't tell me you've never thought about how it used to be. You don't have to look at everything so logically."

"I don't," Vee said. "I just rather not think about those times."

"I'm sorry. Is it?—Never mind."

"My fiancé and my kid? Yes. It's always them."

Zed set her dish aside and scooted beside Vee, pressing her back against the wooden barrier of the melon patch, mirroring his position, her mouth just as dead grim as his.

"You seem to handle it well enough. But I understand. I think everyone lost something important to them," Zed offered. 

Vee sighed, turning his face to the floor, cutting off the glistening whites of his eyes from view. "Found out she was pregnant the night before I left to work for the army."

"The army?"

"Yes. I had a knack for inventing. You've seen the ammunition I designed for Axel. And it takes a special gun to fire something that lethal without complication. They wanted that kind of technology and offered me a nauseating amount of money to oversee mass production. The only smart thing I ever did was refuse to sell myself. It cost me my family, but I can say with certainty Axel is the only person besides me who's fired one of them. Could you imagine what the world would be like if those had gotten into the wrong hands?"

Zed bottled talk of acid and bloodshed with a shiver and a firm hand on Vee's wrist. "Enough of that. Please. Tell me about her—your fiancé. Let's just... Remember them fondly. I don't want to think about the bullshit out there."

"You'd rather stay inside these bubbles, ignoring a second societal collapse in the making?"

"Yes. I'd rather enjoy my time here with you, listening to nicer stories. This is all that's left. I don't want to think about where we went wrong or right. Let's just talk about what made us happy."

Vee nudged her shoulder. "Why can't we talk about what makes us happy now?"

She giggled and rested her temple on his shoulder. Vee curled his wrist around her knee, and their fingers intertwined. He leaned his head on hers like they had in his apartment before Lora caught them, this time with his heart pumping in double-time. 

"What makes you happy now?" Zed asked him.

"Not talking about dead relatives."

"Okay, true. Let's not. So... What are you content with?"

"You," Vee blurted.

Zed's chest tightened. Vee let go of her hand and angled his torso toward her. "I'm sorry. It's difficult for me not to... Stick to you. If I'm honest... You look like her, Lea. I really hate how much you remind me of her. And I don't want to use you to fill the void. It's wrong, but I can't help it. Everywhere I look, I'm reminded of how much I lost. And you're so understanding. You don't have all these expectations."

"Vee—"

"I don't want you to think I'm coming onto you. You don't owe me anything. All I'm saying is, I'd be happy to stick together."

"We will! I want to stick with you, too."

Vee combed his blond hair back, pinching his brows together. "Lea... I want you to tell me no, right now."

"No? What do you mean?" Zed asked.

"Tell me there's no chance in Hell we'll ever get together. If I have it planted in my mind, then that's that. But if you don't, and we continue hanging out like this, getting closer... I might... Think there's a way."

"Valter..."

"Axe knew what he was doing when he brought you here...when he introduced us. Yes, he wanted protection for you, but he also wanted you and me to hit it off. I could tell. He'd never admit it, but I know him. You're perfect for me, but I've seen how others treat you, and I refuse to do the same. I don't want to perform tricks to impress you into sleeping with me like Ivar, but I don't want to stifle my feelings like... Axel. So you need to shut me down, right now. If there's a firm barrier, my mind will reroute, avoiding any possibility—"

"Stop," Zed said. "Please, just stop."

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought any of that up."

"No, it's good to speak your mind. I appreciate the honesty, even if it took months to hear."

"It would have been inappropriate if I brought it up. When we had research and pressing issues, it was easy to ignore how familiar you seemed. Now I'm at a stalemate, and you're still here, and Axel's gone. I can't pretend like I don't want to spend my time with you. But I'll stay off your heels, I swear. Just friends."

"I'm not telling you no," Zed murmured. "Maybe at some point, I wanted to fall in love, but now I know that's foolish. Love can't exist in this world anymore. Not without great suffering, and I don't want to suffer anymore. Truthfully, I don't even want to get close to you, Valter, because I'm afraid someone or something will take it away."

"Nothing will take me away."

Zed shook her head, knocking a tear loose. "Don't say that. You can't make that promise. I don't want any more broken promises."

The scientist nodded while a cloud of vapour seethed from the sprinkler heads above the raised garden beds, thickening the air and clinging to their skin. A long silence pervaded, and Zed held her breath until Vee shuffled away to retrieve Wayfare of Austea. He dropped the box before her feet and grinned widely.

"Come on then, let's play. No more doom and gloom for a while."

~*~

Ivar spent the same evening pacing in his room. He went to the private alcove he assigned to the woman on his mind. Zed was fickle, and he didn't want to dash his chances with her by smothering, but something in his stomach wouldn't settle. He'd even dismissed his guard, encouraging another visit, yet she hadn't shown. Ivar buckled under the suspicion that she was angry with him, and her absence was his punishment.

Never the man to deny himself, he made for the Hives. If Zed was alone, surely she'd welcome his company. She'd said it herself: she wasn't one to sleep with just anyone, and he was far from just anyone. He was King, and this was his realm.

Despite his self-reassurance, Ivar carried doubts that manifested on his face. He passed a few citizens, drawing eyes with his acidic mug and ignored them all the way to Zed's door. 

She didn't answer the door after he knocked. He reasoned she might be asleep, though it was shy of nine o'clock—early for most but not an unusual time to sleep. Before he turned away, he twisted the handle and cracked the door open an inch, letting out the dark.

"Lea? Are you in here?"

Stagnant silence answered, and he shut the door before anyone saw him. Ivar went to the door on the left and found that one locked. He grimaced, turned from the apartments and left for the lab. 

On his way through the courtyard, Ivar saw Nalani and Trinity walking arm-in-arm, engaged in private discussion. Their frantic doe-eyes widened to see him.

"Have you seen Lea?" Ivar asked.

"She should be home, I think," said Trinity.

Nalani shrugged her bare shoulders, still clutching her friend's hand. "I thought she'd be with you, Ivar."

He sneered at the women. "No curtsy? No formality? Has everyone forgotten who's in charge around here?"

The two pressed their arms together, quietly apologizing and stepping aside for Ivar. He stalked toward the lab, holding his breath while throwing open the doors and turning the corner to find the rooms gutted of materials. The refrigerator hummed, and the overhead light flickered, barren and reeking of sterilization.

Ivar examined the dustless surfaces, curious but not enough to go digging through desk drawers. He went down the hall and stopped in front of Vee's door, clearing his airways again to sharpen his ears. There were no voices. Ivar knocked and went unanswered.

He turned in time to see the first door in the hall open and Lora's head poking out. She wore the same displeasure on her face, adjusting her reading glasses while her body caught up with her neck.

"If you're looking for Vee, he's hiding away with that woman everyone is up in arms about," Lora said.

"Hiding away? With Lea?"

"Yeah, whatever her name is. They haven't been here since I caught them getting up close and personal in Vee's room."

Ivar's stomach flipped, his head buzzed. Lora took great pleasure in the snagging of his mouth. She had been fuming by herself, finding specks of dust to brush away to keep her mind off her superior who'd run away with the girl she'd grown to distrust. Lora was a woman of insecurity, easily threatened by others but quick to bite back when given a chance. After she'd found Vee shoulder-to-shoulder with Zed in his apartment, Lora waited for any opportunity to drive a wedge between her beloved head scientist and the newcomer from the desert. Now was the perfect opportunity to damage Zed. 

"What do you mean?" Ivar asked.

"You know what I mean, sir. They were practically on top of each other."

Ivar had no reason to discount Lora's claim. She'd proven herself a trusted and valuable member of the village long ago and never caused a ripple of dispute. The folding of her face and iron-clad seriousness was all the King needed to believe what she told him.

"Where are they?"

"I assume—if they're smart—hiding in one of the greenhouses. I wouldn't be surprised if you caught them naked in the strawberry bushes."

Ivar scoffed and rushed away. Lora watched until he disappeared, then went back inside the incubation room and put on a pair of gloves. There was an electric cooler housing blood samples, one from each member of the village. Lora selected a sample from the bottom tray and shuffled to the sink, turning on the tap while reading the label. Popping the top off the vial, she upended the sample and drained the blood away.

Ivar did better than storming the greenhouses in search of Zed. There were slinkier things on his mind. If he caught her in the act with the scientist, only then would he justify blowing up. For now, he snuck through the grounds with his focus tuned and his breath steady. 

 "What's next for me? I've tried to convince him to let someone go, but he refuses. Do we just exist here now, with no way to move forward? Forever trapped in this moon unit."

"He'll come to his senses," Vee said with meagre hopefulness. "Ivar's full of himself, but he's not stupid."

"Well, let's count on those senses coming soon," Zed snorted.

"Speaking of Ivar... Do you think he's wondering where you are? You did just... You know. If that happened to me, I'd be thinking about it for a while. Wondering after you. Well, not you—'cause we never... Heh. Ah, shit. You get my meaning, right?"

"Mr. Cluney, are you flustered? I don't think I've ever heard you fumble your words before."

"I don't mean to be coarse."

"Don't worry. We'll get through this. Ivar has to see reason… We need to tell him about the ones who died."

"I'll tell him. It should be me," Vee said, stacking the playing cards back in the plastic tray lining of the frayed box. 

Zed helped by gathering pieces, separating them into their individual quadrants next to the cards. She set her eyes dead on the floor after they finished packing the game away, sighing in contemplation.

"Who will go?"

Vee frowned. They shared a strained minute of silence interrupted by another burst of spray in the air. Their shirts stuck to their backs, legs aching from crossing and uncrossing. Zed handed the box to Vee.

"Maybe it should be me," she said.

"Absolutely not. You can't leave. It's too dangerous out there, and you don't have to put your life on the line. There's only two people who should go. Me or Ivar."

"You're too important to lose, Vee. That's what Axel wants. I know if he had a dying wish for me, it would be to look out for you. For us to do everything we can to survive."

"Within capability. I'm not a killer, Zed. I'm not like Axel."

Zed smirked, the merciless flames dancing in her belly again, the same ones she'd felt when she screamed at Lora. She'd harboured the noxious warmth before. It was a friend to her.

"But I am...I'm a killer."

Vee set his jaw firmly, scoffing, unable to disagree. "Listen, Rambo. Even armed to the teeth, you're still not going out there alone."

"And neither are you if you go."

"You think Ivar will leave his precious cocoon? I don't think so. He'll probably send one of his guys out to never come back."

Zed shook her head, tired of the speculation. "This is ridiculous. Anyone should be able to come and go as they please. It's tyranny to tell them they can't leave if they want to. I thought this was a place of free will? What happened to the promised land?"

"Same thing that always happens when one person is left in charge."

"On that, we agree."

They left the greenhouse with much to think about, hugged goodbye in the courtyard and separated—Zed toward the Hives and Vee following the path to his room. 

 The next morning Zed awoke to guards butting on all the doors, yelling for everyone to get to the courtyard. The racket came after a long night of tossing and turning. Her eyes were tight with unrest, her head throbbing, but she put on jeans and a plain white t-shirt with a single breast pocket, similar to the ones Ivar wore.

The citizens filed from the Hives, murmuring and looking around worriedly. Guards stood by to direct the traffic to the medical tent-turned-backdrop. The booth topped the steepest hill in the plaza, out of use for the past few weeks. They pooled around the base of the hill in collective confusion, looking up as Ivar took advantage of the blank vinyl behind him.

Ivar cast a proud smile over the congregation. He summoned everyone from their hiding spots without having to lift a finger and brought them into the light spilling through the checkered dome on high. He waited until he spotted Zed and Vee coming in from their separate tubes, relaxing a bare inch when they didn't arrive together. They cut their ways to the front of the throng and noticed each other right away. Ivar saw the troubled looks they exchanged and sneered.

"Is this everyone?" Ivar called to the head of his guard.

An armed man standing off to the East with a few others gave Ivar a thumbs up. The King nodded, then proceeded, his expression toward his people fresh with tenacity.

"Ladies and gentlemen of Kinderfeld. I've asked you all here to bring you some news. It has taken me a long time to come to this decision, and for my delay, I apologize. I don't take this lightly... We've lost members of our family, and my heart is broken. I've spent too long trying to think of a way to bring trade back to our village. We need supplies, yes, and medics. I understand these things because I've survived before. All of us must exist as a unit, each one pledged to the survival of our crew."

The people looked on with widening eyes. Hearts that once sang for Ivar's monologues found their tune. All of them but Azalea and the other Cluney brother. Ivar burned them with ocular venom, hoisting his smile into a morbid curve. Zed let shoulders and legs swallow her back into the crowd, but not deep enough to block her view of the head scientist glaring back at the leader.

"I forbid travel for your protection. There are dangers outside of our walls. People whose only purpose is to hunt and kill. I don't have to remind you of the horrors we've suffered or the love we've cultivated here in our home. You were all there. Some of you longer than others. They built these walls to protect us—the ones who choose love instead of hate."

Ivar clasped his hands behind his back and took splinted steps back and forth on his makeshift stage. He fashioned himself contemplative, but his eyes shone with intent.

"With that being said... We cannot wait for luck to come to us. This planet is evolving each day. Nature is reclaiming the land, and it will swallow us in its majesty. We will be lost if we don't take action."

"What do we do?" Someone called from the center of the gathering. The fiery-haired father who'd earned his keep cooking and training his son stood out as the shouter. Ivar didn't smile at him so much as he cast his grace upon the redheaded man clutching the freckled boy by the shoulders.

"I'm glad you asked, sir... We are a unity. A tribe of people who want to live in harmony, am I wrong?"

Several shook their heads, others muttered together, a dull drone of tired voices.

"Then we should vote. Does anyone care to nominate themselves or another?"

The apprehension pivoted and picked up with a few gasps. Heads swivelled in search of somebody bold enough to champion themselves for exploration. Vee continued glaring at Ivar. The king returned the glower.

"I'll go!" 

Zed gasped after the words left Vee's mouth. He stepped forth, unbreaking under Ivar's challenging eyes.

"So we have one volunteer. Our beloved head of research and weapons development. A very noble gesture! Does anyone else wish to nominate themselves?" Ivar asked. He opened his arms, beseeching a reply with postured hope.

"Nobody should go alone!" Zed shouted.

"Yeah, we need a team!"

Ivar motioned for the crowd to quiet down. Once they simmered, looking on with palpable anticipation, he inhaled deeply for the next addressing.

"We're running low on men to keep our hold. The brunt of the firepower needs to remain here in case of attack," Ivar reasoned.

"I'll go alone. I don't care. We can't stand around any longer!" Vee said, his chest puffed, much to the surprise of the people who knew him.

Ivar barked a few dry laughs, disguising his pleasure to everyone but Zed and the man who'd volunteered to brave the elements. "I suppose if nobody has any objections...Vee will be the one to go. As badly as it tears me to say so... You are the perfect man for the job. Brother, I wish you all the luck."

Zed broke away from the gather and hammered her legs up the incline toward Vee and Ivar, pumping her fists until she reached them.

"Ivar, you can't do this! We can't send people out alone. At least let me go with him!"

"No!" Ivar and Vee shouted at once.

"What are you going to do to stop me? After your decree about peace and harmony, what will you do to keep me from leaving Kinderfeld?"

Ivar adopted her heated expression. "Azalea, stay out of this."

"No. I won't! Not after what happened to Axel. We have to assemble a team! Don't tell me to stay out when neither of you has seen the carnage!"

"Of course you want to go, Lea. All you care about is finding Axel. You used me and hoped I wouldn't figure out you're trying to leave. You never cared about me. You try to act like you're so innocent and respectful, but you're just like everyone else."

"Because I don't want people to die? Ivar, I understand you're trying to protect everyone, but sending men out for slaughter won't help our cause. Please," Zed whimpered. "Set aside our personal issues and try to see the bigger picture."

Ivar cooled suddenly. He patronized Zed with a frantic nod and a forced grin. "All right, Azalea. Consider our personal issues permanently set aside. You got your way. One of the guards will go with Vee. Now, go. I have heard your voice."

The guards gathered around Ivar and Vee, their conversation clipped and sheltered from the citizens by a lineup of broad-shouldered men carrying weapons of varying levels of brutality. Zed stepped away, cowering under the firm looks she received from Ivar's men. Though she bowed out of the political bubble, she stayed close by, watching Vee's sour face muttering umbrage at the King. The other citizens broke off into smaller clusters, chosen families and cliques gathering to discuss the ruling. 

A hand slid over Zed's shoulder, and she whirled to find Sheraya bowing her head. "You've done what you can."

"No, I haven't!" Zed nipped. "I should go with him. I'm not afraid of the outside anymore."

"You don't have to be the hero, Azalea. You must survive."

"I have survived. I'm good at it."

"You're needed here. The young ones have to learn from the women."

"Sheraya... I can't let Vee go. I can't."

The elder took hold of Zed's clammy palm, pressing the lines with her thumb. Zed buckled as tears sprung from the corners of her eyes. "He's all I have, Sheraya."

"The only one you ever truly have is yourself. Think about that before you take your heart's path and not your brain's. Look hard into the future."

"I'm trying," Zed sobbed.

"Azalea, I mean it. Your future is important."

Sheraya left her with a warm peck on the cheek and a growing sense of bewilderment. Zed looked around at the people, the hills and the courtyard beyond, the flatland where they set up their booths and entertained each other. Envisioning life beyond the safety of their walls overcame Zed with grief. She'd won, but the conditions were too heavy for her to bear. Now her last friend prepared for expulsion. 

Vee took his charge seriously. Zed saw his raw determination as they hashed out a plan. Several times, she stopped herself from storming their parley, anchoring herself to the ground with locked knees and her arms folded over her breasts.

For a long time, the conversation went on, and most of the villagers went about their morning routines, gathering to cook and gossip of the turbulent state of politics. Zed stayed close enough to catch Vee when they finally broke for action, but the men showed no signs of agreement. Ivar had to hush some more uproarious guards, leashing them down with an assuring hand on the shoulder to stop them from infecting the others with their rancour.

Zed spotted a guard sprinting from the warehouse limits. The desperate look on his face alerted her, and she stepped out of sight around the corner of the medical tent, still close enough to listen.

The man approached, panting and calling for Ivar's attention. Zed snuck a peek and saw the group retire from their conference, distracted by their comrade.

"Jackson, what's the matter?"

"It's Zee. It's him! One of the guys found some doctor dragging him through the forest."

"A doctor?" Ivar repeated. "How do you know?"

"He says so. Says his name is Simpson... Or was it Samson?"

"Samson!" Zed yelled, running from her cover toward the reporting guard. "Did you say the doctor's name is Samson?"

"Yeah, Samson," the man huffed, stunned by the woman's sudden appearance.

"Bring him in! Right now. Go get them and bring him to me!" Zed demanded.

"Now, wait a minute," Ivar said. "How do we know we can trust this guy?"

"If it's the Samson I know, we can trust him. Ivar, please. I'll vouch for him if it's who I think it is."

"Who gives a shit, he's got my brother!"

Zed vaulted after Vee, tailed by the guards and Ivar. The march heralded interest from the citizens, and soon, onlookers roved toward the warehouse. Vee turned to the guard who'd brought the news and slapped him on the shoulder. "Go tell them to let Axel and the doctor inside."

"Sir," the guard nodded, jogging ahead to the entrance where two other men stood, baffled and conflicted without orders.

"Let them in!" Zed cried out.

They waited with bursting lungs. It seemed an hour crawled by before a shadowed heap of arms appeared at the mouth of the entrance. Flanked by two guards holding him upright, they carried Axel inside, his head of matted brown hair dangling lifelessly between his shoulders, limp tattooed arms slung around their necks. Zed ran to him and propped his chin up in her hand, heart palpitating, head rushing.

"Axel! Oh my God. You're alive!"

"Now, now, miss. Don't waste too much breath speaking to him. He can't understand you."

Zed turned toward the familiar voice. Samson hobbled in next to a guard who'd taken on his load—a heavy satchel, a duffel bag and two tweed suitcases. Filth and the briny stink of body odour and piss wafted through the tunnel with them. Most recoiled from the stench.

"Doctor Samson, do you remember me? From the bloodbank."

"Ah, yes, of course, I remember you, Zed! You used to zip around on your motorbike, looking for scrap metal and something to eat."

"Yes, yes! I didn't think I'd see you again."

"The chances of us meeting were rather slim, I agree, and I have to say it's lovely to find you in this magnificent bubble here. You can see this splendid little valley from the North. We were hoping for water, but this is much better. Um, speaking of water, where might I find some? Mr. Soldier and I are rather parched. Oh, and I left my camel parked outside. Do you validate?" Samson said with a jolt of wild laughter.

Zed didn't mean to be rude, but turning away from Samson was far too easy when Axel hung before her like a damp towel on a clothesline. She wanted to hold him, to join in as support to get him a surface to lie upon, but she resisted. 

Ivar butt in and directed the escort to take Axel to the laboratory, then turned to Zed, scorning the tears in her eyes.

"Looks like you got your wish, Lea. Axel's back. Your life can go back to normal," Ivar said as the rest of them rushed away with the hunter and the doctor in tow.

It was only them, facing off on the hill. Zed quelled the wildfire in her belly with a painful swallow. A debate with Ivar served no purpose, so she turned from him, solemn and absolute.

"You've given me a lot, Ivar. I thank you for that. Hopefully soon, you and I will see eye to eye again, and we can live peacefully, as you said."

She angled down the hill, hurrying toward the laboratory. 

Nobody stopped her from entering the stand-in hospital room. Vee had been worrying over his brother, grimacing at his crudely wrapped hand, violet dark and lame at his side. They'd already stripped him naked and laid a blanket over his lower extremities, so the bruises spraying his ribs screamed in the whiteness. His skin was bright red and glossy, shoulders scabbed with burns. With all his muscles slackened, Axel spilled over the bed, deadweight and loose-jawed.

"What happened?" Zed asked, turning to the doctor propped up in a gurney, sipping from a jug of water.

"I can't say for sure," said Samson. "He was comatose when I found him baking in the desert. That's one lucky man, right there. Lucky he crawled his sorry ass to where he did. Otherwise, I might have missed him by a mile."

"What should we do, Samson? How do I make him come out of it?" 

"Oh, we can never be sure. It could be a few days, weeks... Months. My suggestion is to regulate his body temperature, treat his wounds and burns, and hope for the best."

Zed turned back to the unconscious man. She spotted the clumps of dirt in his hair, the scrapes on his elbows and mud-caked fingernails and her panic increased.

"Somebody bring me washcloths, soap and water right now!"

"I'd be mighty careful cleaning those burns, Zed. He's got some good blisters forming. And mind his hand."

"I will, I will," Zed nodded. "Just tell me what to do."

"Can I bother someone for a snack?" Asked Samson.

The guards who'd toted them into the lab stuck around until no longer needed. Zed refused help from anyone except Vee after Trinity brought them a bucket of warmed water, and Lora provided antiseptic. They started cleaning Axel gently, beginning with the grime under his nails. Samson ate from a bowl of mixed fruits, humming in delight from the nectar sliding down his throat. 

Zed moved Axel's injured arm with great care and washed away the smears of dirt marring his tattoos, applying disinfectant to the cuts. Vee worked on the opposite side of the bed, combing out the chunks in his hair. Once in awhile, Zed met Vee's eyes, and he'd nod or give her a forced grin.

Axel's unconsciousness only registered later in the night after they'd cleaned him and swapped a few words of astonishment. Zed stayed nearby, wishing his eyes open, but every hopeful breath gave way to disappointment. Lost in the blankness of his mind, Axel floated.

Even Lora surrendered to the sobering tension, making herself available to Vee only. Zed didn't concern herself with the woman. Her mind was awash with relief and worry for the friend who'd found his miraculous way back home. Nothing else mattered but the battered man lying in slumber on the hospital bed.

Samson fell asleep, and Vee left after long, touching Zed's shoulder before excusing himself. He promised to come back as soon as he'd had some rest. Zed nodded, squeezing his hand for a lingering moment, then releasing him. Sleep had no chance of overtaking her, so she stayed next to Axel, balling herself up in one of the office chairs, listening to his wheezing and sticking her fingers under his scruffy jaw to check his pulse every time he went silent.

When it was only her, Axel, and Samson sleeping in the room, she leaned over the bed and brushed her palm over Axel's scaly forehead. She avoided his singed nose, the curving laceration above his left eye and the peeling skin on the crests of his cheeks, touching his jaw and stroking his hair a few times.

"Don't worry, everything's okay now. You're back where you're safe."

The woman slumped into the chair, propping her heavy head on her elbow. She watched his chest rise and fall for a few minutes, plates of seared skin stretching tight over his ribcage, and fought off the urge to doze alongside him.

"Mmph-uh... Muh."

Zed's eyes snapped open. "Axel? Did you speak?"

"Hmm," he thrummed.

"Can you hear me, Axel? It's me, Zed. Azalea. Do you recognize my voice?"

Axel's throat went quiet, the enfeebled notes fading back to obscurity. Zed tried to get him mumbling again, but the hunter remained still.

"It's okay. I promise, I'll make you better. You're home now, and I'm not going anywhere until you’re better, okay, Axel? Don’t worry. You’re at home with me."

Like what I do? Tip me on Ko-Fi (if you want :D)

@dreamtherapy @reinamysterio @skarswhat @mightbelindsey @sexual-rendezvous-blog @billskarsgardx @michaeliskindahot @tigers-pat @rainbowmoosie @tinygayfungi @pancake-blonde @bskarsgardlove92 @sarah2057 @ohcaptains @loveforbillskasgard @vikingsmania @billdreamy69 @lordeofther1ngs @theredheadsbookcorner @1-800-imagines @readsalot73 @nicolehoran-maybe @weirdlilwitch @enchantedreadersworld @allkundsofwrong @loey-bae @bill-istvan @army-crawl-andersen @sunshineandskarsgards @beyond-the-ashes @whoplansthese @evaolii-blog @frappylou @alylanaeblack @billullabies @bohemianfortunes @moondustmemories @terry2227 @queen-see-ya-in-valhalla @alltimesamantha @amelia-in-w0nderland @thestonerosas @skrsgvrd @sorryimviolet @tweakersqueaker @inforapound @eff1ngqueen @skrsgrd-my-boi @rekdreams-fandom @b-afterhours @anastasiaskarsgard @ainatirb-j @voodoo-queen @quiche-pocket @awkward-haux @thorins-queen-of-erebor @originalclodmakergarden @skrsgardspam @tumblingdwntherabbithole @xbuckxnastyx @skadithegoddess @whiskeyxinxaxteacup @calumculia0 @bethskarsgard @ohhoneyaaaaaaa @ziamhathrisen @tgrrose @didiintheblog @bitchwelcometoparadise @maggiescarborough @anacerta @dangerous-like-a-loaded-pistol @spitch0 @grandpa-sweaters @mamaloser1 @mycrimsonsparrow @scxrsgxrd

(If you would like to be tagged or have your tag removed, please let me know!) 

[incorrect-mha-bnha]

BNHA Baseball-Quirkless AU

Where Midoriya is actually Bakugou’s older brother by 12 years and is permanently paralyzed from the waist down, has to use a wheelchair for the rest of his life.

(This is going to be a long thread and I will never trust the Keep Reading again for deleting this entire thing once already~ So, apologies)

Main Characters

Katsuki (I’ll figure out a last name later)

Baseball Prodigy

16 years old

Has been playing since the age of 5

His dream is to go pro, become the best baseball player ever

Best player on his team. Was pushed into Varsity, freshman year for his insane pitching speed that broke the JV catcher’s wrist with a curve ball.

He’s got the makings of an All Star with all the determination, skills, even the support of his entire family + friends.

Katsuki has an infamously nasty attitude on the field and off. It makes him hard to work with in any position they may give him. (He raises hell if he is not on the mound).

He’s got a real good arm, an almost perfect pitch and a fire driven soul.

They rely on him, and they should. Katsuki has led his team through many championships, tournaments and games. There are scouts lined up just to get a glimpse of his insane curve ball. Katsuki has all the glory, the pure etched tanaz to get things in his life, there is just one problem.

He’s stuck under his brother’s shadow

Izuku (Same as Katsuki)

Ex Baseball player

27

Being a pro baseball player was his only dream, what he was working for.

Permanently paralyzed from the waist down, a lot of scarring all over his body

Izuku was the Underdog at an extremely young age. Making Varsity on tryouts without having to work for it like Katsuki, who spent hours pushing his speed above average, busting his ass to be the best.

Izuku had an unchallenged power that seemed like it came overnight. That’s where he got the nickname Underdog (don’t even ask, because I like it). He never played well in Middle School, but he had that dream to keep him going. Got into High School and became the equivalent to a Senior’s level of skill by Freshman.

Note: Yagi took Izuku under his wing and formed a bond. They became extremely close, working hard to keep Izuku’s abilities up and rising. (There was no extreme favoritism but Izuku looked up to Yagi’s skills and abilities anyway).

Izuku was someone loved by all, with a personality that kept his team working at their best. Izuku had the greatest leadership skills ever seen, the highest pitching speed in the country’s Varsity Leagues and an even better rating on the college scouting boards.

By Junior year, Izuku was already taking tours of campuses

He’s a legend in their High School, an idol to every baseball player and student that ever roamed those halls.

Katsuki never understood it. He hated being compared to his older brother, being overshadowed by someone who couldn’t even play anymore. Getting compared to a broken man, someone who Katsuki had never once seen pick up a ball while he was growing up. Katsuki held resent for his brother, his effortless favoritism, the saintly image they painted him in. Why was Izuku so praised, adored and given such a high podium when there was nothing really great about him? Why was Katsuki always having to measure up to him, getting backhanded praise about his hard work that never really compared to Izuku’s? All Katsuki craves to do is finally beat Izuku and prove he is the better player. Show everyone he could do it when Izuku couldn’t- but to do that, Katsuki has to defeat some demons and dig some old ones up as well.

Side Characters

(Everyone is older then Katsuki, Kirishima is the youngest upper class man.)

Izuku’s Team/Friends

Todoroki (Back up Pitcher, Catcher)

Iida (3rd Base)

Ojiro (Infield)

Shinsou (Outfield) [I might switch him to Katsuki’s side]

Yagi Toshinori/ All Might- His coach name (Coach)

Note: After Izuku became paralyzed, Yagi retired and never went back

Tsuyu (Close friend)

Uraraka (Best friend since childhood, stops by to bring Izuku to Therapy sometimes. Is like Katsuki’s older sisters, though he won’t openly admit to it.)

Katsuki’s Team/Friends

Kirishima (Back up catcher, outfield)

Tamaki (Back up Pitcher, Main Second base)

Mirio (Main Catcher- Kirishima’s mentor)

Fat Gum (Coach)

Tetsutetsu (Football player- Kirishima’s friend)

Tomo (YES BITCH, OKAY? Sigh, I’ll figure out a role for my man)

Sero, Denki, Mina, Jirou (Kirishima’s friends from the beginning, will be Katsuki’s friends later)

Eijirou Kirishima

17- going on 18 years old

Openly Pansexual

Quit football in Middle School to play baseball after stumbling upon a game where the catcher nicknamed Crimson Riot over turned a 2-17 score game just by his catching and fielding alone. Ever since then, Kirishima has wanted to be just as good of a catcher and played the game ever since.

He got into Varsity without being pushed up. Working for it through his own pace, earning many scouts and skills.

Eijirou is ruthless, powerful and surprisingly agile for such a tall, bulky body. He has an amazing personality, is resilient and strong. His insistence to work hard every damn day of his life and commitment to push him and Katsuki beyond their limits was initially where Katsuki started to form his attachment to the catcher.

Tamaki and Mirio took Eijirou under their wings to help mold him into an amazing catcher. Tamaki worked with him to handle many different pitches and field situations. Mirio showed Eijirou ways to communicate with a pitcher, working restless to become a rock wall behind the plate.

Note: Mirio looked up to Izuku at a young age and wanted to be a catcher that could take a pitch from someone as great as him

Eijirou watched how they bonded/interacted as a Pitcher and Catcher duo on the field. He took that visionary partnership and found Katsuki, his perfect man pitcher.

He is about the only one that can handle Katsuki’s attitude on the field, able to keep him in check, finish plays and command the field simultaneously. Eijirou has no issue with reading Katsuki either, or telling him what to do during a situation.

He is older than Katsuki, responsible with more experience in High School level games.

He is the assigned catcher for whenever Katsuki is put into play, as demanded from the blond himself.

Eijirou is a voice of reason, a place of solace.

Knows when to reel Katsuki back in or let him expel all his pent up emotions. Even if it’s through an unsolicited late night practice the blond may pull Eijirou on.

Eijirou builds his relationship with Katsuki easily, able to break down walls and a thorned exterior to really bring out the best in him.

Katsuki sometimes can’t stand it when Eijirou gets all “high and mighty” with him, but it’s just the catcher taking a mature stance on a situation to better communicate the problem.

Please Note: This is not going to revolve solely around Kirishima and Bakugou. The characters and their backstories + roles will be shown but the main relationship being written around is Katsuki’s and Izuku’s with endgame KiriBaku that happens in the backlight

Eijirou has his own set goals and dreams. Planning to attend the same college that Crimson Riot had and maybe catch alongside him.

He is always there to help guide Katsuki, hone in his theatrics and wildfire personality. Katsuki likes that for once there is someone that pushes back at him and won’t just roll right over. Eijirou is a force to be reckoned with, never just taking something lying down and that’s perfect for Katsuki’s boundary pushing tendencies.

He introduced Katsuki to all his friends and gives the pitcher people to trust and fall back on.

Eijirou has engraved into Katsuki’s head that he is a safe space and has proved it many times. Whenever things at home get too hard or Katsuki can’t mental handle seeing Izuku, he will run away to Eijirou and decompress. The catcher hardly minds, doesn’t even complain when Katsuki randomly climbs up and bangs on his bedroom window until it’s opened, just to go in for a long needed rant or pull Eijirou out to practice.

Katsuki let’s loose around Eijirou. Being vulnerable with him (Eijirou is the first person to know about his resent for Izuku and it does stump the Catcher drastically at first).

Eijirou confides in Katsuki just as much, randomly pulling him in for a hug or hanging off him at any chance. The older boy likes to desensitize him a lot.

Eijirou is the happiest guy in school, with the same cheerful spirit as Izuku. He has many friends and knows how to bring the team back into focus when it’s not going their way. They turn to their bright catcher in times of need when the spirit is low.

Side Notes/Scene Cuts

Everyone’s endgame goals are different. For example: Kirishima- Be a really good catcher like his idol, go to the same school and play just as good. Mirio- Catch for a Pitcher as great as Izuku. Tamaki- Keep living through that feeling of striking someone out with Mirio. Bakugou- Be the BEST, finally step beyond his brother’s shadow. Izuku- Just wanted to play pro, never cared about being the best even though he had that potential. Only ever wanted to play forever, to keep going. To stay on the field for as long as possible.

Katsuki was 4 when the incident happened

Their family told Katsuki that Izuku’s disability came from a really bad car crash, (The school doesn’t speak of the incident, pointedly avoids talking about it). I don’t want to give it away, but Izuku wasn’t the one driving the car when it crashed.

Katsuki doesn’t remember anything that happened but he does have a nasty scar from it that he hates. (Rubs the marred tissue as an angry/nervous habit)

To touch back on this^ because the incident was very traumatizing to Katsuki at such a young age and with being told so many times it was a car crash when he asked or over hearing it when he was around- Katsuki’s mind completely pushed everything back and repressed the scene. He also assumes the incident happened well before he was born. Which means, when Izuku does finally say the truth and explains? It’s going to be like he experienced it for the first time, getting bad whiplash from the memories.

The incident happened right after Izuku’s team won a tournament game, they were on their way to win the championship. Literally in the parking lot about ten minutes after winning, and it happened.

When Izuku woke up, they told him he’d never walk again and wouldn’t get to play baseball anymore. His team lost the entire tournament. He never went to college.

Izuku never once looked at baseball again, too pained by it. He couldn’t stand hearing about it or seeing Katsuki talk so happily about the game without breaking down. The incident broke his spirit drastically. This means that he has never gone to a single practice/game for Katsuki. (I touch on why after a few bullets)

Izuku stopped smiling, and shut himself away. He felt cheated, sold short but understood it was his choice. For the first three years after the incident, Izuku was extremely depressed. (He went through years of therapy after, and is in a much better head space now but some days are really hard). He stayed in his room for those years while Katsuki grew up, hallow and crying.

Like, Katsuki went from growing up with a bright and lively brother to having an empty home and empty heart.

Izuku hardly ever leaves his room, sometimes isn’t even there. (Out at his countless Therapy appointments). When Katsuki gets home from school, even on days after practice or a game, the only thing that tells him his brother is home would be Izuku’s shoes at the front door.

Katsuki loved his brother, looked up to him as a role model, someone he wanted to be like. Katsuki still does love Izuku, probably even more now. Izuku was his light, his favorite, the one person Katsuki wanted to impress. To please and get praised by. He was Katsuki’s biggest inspiration and source of happiness. So, when that sunshine went away. When Izuku stopped smiling, stopped leaving his room and laughing. Stopped being himself for the first time in their life, it messed up little Katsuki (which is expected). Because of Katsuki’s personality (which I will change in his younger years for reasons), when Izuku pushed himself away from everyone, wasn’t smiling anymore, started to decline drastically. The boy became hurt and disappointed, not understanding why Izuku was faking his happiness. Couldn’t handle being brushed off (it wasn’t on purpose, it is a forgivable mistake) Katsuki started to become really angry.

That’s initially when he started calling Izuku ‘Deku’. It was a way of expressing and dealing with the anger inside.

Izuku hurt him a few times, put Katsuki on the path to be resentful and dejected.

For example:

- At the age of 5, Katsuki started playing baseball because he loved the game, thanks to Izuku. He came home from his first practice and immediately barged into Izuku’s room with his uniform on and a dirty ball waving about proudly. Little Katsuki told Izuku all about how he caught the ball and even lost a tooth for it. Izuku, of course, praised him because the boy was clearly excited but the cheer in his voice never really reached his eyes. Katsuki could tell he wasn’t being truthful about it and thought Izuku wasn’t proud of him at all (even though Izuku was just trying to hold it together). Their mother quickly pulled Katsuki out of the room and shut the door, telling Katsuki that Izuku is very tired and he is very happy for him. (That cover up worked well for awhile, until Katsuki got older and the let down feeling never really went away when they said it).

- Izuku wouldn’t go to any of Katsuki’s banquets/practices/scrimmages/games/tournaments/team+family dinners. Each time the boy asked over the years, Izuku would apologize with that pained fake smile and say he couldn’t make it. Or their parents would say Izuku was tired/not feeling well/at an appointment and Katsuki would kinda just go “Oh...” and get ready. In the beginning, Katsuki was just so excited and pumped to invite his older brother to everything. Grinning wide and barging in the room (because there was no problem with it before) so he could ask or share his accomplishments with Izuku. Like his first home run, base steal, successful slide into home plate, or just hitting the ball on the first try. Sometimes, Izuku would say he did a good job then close himself off or their mom would call Katsuki out before the man could work up a response. Slowly, Katsuki just stopped going in and started knocking. The door never opened and Izuku hardly answered. After awhile, Katsuki just passed by Izuku’s room. Glancing at the stripped bare wood for a fleeting moment and kept going.

Katsuki grew up upset about not having his brother/feeling like he never had one in the first place and being pushed away. Katsuki festered, grew rancid with resent for the man until he hardly spoke to Izuku. He loves his brother but it’s difficult on both ends. He doesn’t even know really why Izuku is in the wheelchair.

Katsuki remembers walking into his brother’s room to see the man had fallen on the floor, in tears over something in his hand. Katsuki made a surprised noise, stuck in the doorway from the first sight of seeing his older brother so broken. Izuku startled, wiping his eyes and faked a smile while putting the item out of sight. Katsuki went to ask if he was okay but was pulled way quickly so his parents could help Izuku back into the wheelchair.

I want to clarify that their family wasn’t pulling a Elsa&Ana type deal. They just didn’t want Katsuki to grow worried and become upset or possible make the situation worse until Izuku was in the right head space.

Katsuki hasn’t seen the inside of Izuku’s room in too many years, misses the days where he’d climb on his brother’s bed and read Comics the young boy couldn’t even understand yet.

Izuku wants to be there for Katsuki, wants to support him with his dream. To cheer him on in the stands but it’s really hard to be around that atmosphere again without his mind going really critical. He has been going to therapy, talking and slowly building his confidence up. Taking his time to get better so he can support Katsuki but it’s all mental on his part. It’s something Izuku will need to break through on his own.

Izuku does smile more, he’s happier than before but the rift between him and Katsuki never healed.

(On a happier note). Eijirou is really buff and soft. He will randomly pick Katsuki up at night to go for a drive or knock him upside the head when he isn’t all there/being rude. (My Kirishima is going to be a little ooc but it’s for the development of the overall story).

Izuku used to call Katsuki ‘Champ’ or something along those lines and still does whenever they pass each other in the house because I said 😔🥺 hours. Can we just imagine for a moment: Katsuki as a happy little kid, grinning wide and cheering his older brother on in the stands. Izuku coming over with his bright smile and lets Katsuki hug him with excited babbling. Then Izuku puts his Baseball cap on him and says “Thanks, Champ!” And Katsuki’s entire face lights up!!!

I want to play around with everyone’s appearances because this is clearly indulgent so maybe a hoh Katsuki with it having direct ties to the incident? Who knows. Either way, I’m going to have my reasonable fun.

I will probably add more to this post slowly overtime and I’ll just retweet it over and over... not sorry. As I said, this got deleted once already so there is no doubt that I left some things out but this is my big ass plot. Any suggestions? Constructive criticism, go right ahead. This is about the biggest motivation I’ve had to write something in two months so my ass is already rough drafting while writing out some things for @localinferiorgood ‘s amazing Gang AU idea. I have a lot to research and edit before this shit goes public but I’ll see how it goes.

Also, don’t steal my idea. It’s kinda rude. If you get inspired by this or want to write it with your own twist, credit or ask me.

Either way,

[sylveranty]

Wayhaven Chronicles Book 1 - Professional Stats Guide

A guide listing all (and only) choices that affect the four professional skills of the game The Wayhaven Chronicles: Book 1 by Mishka Jenkins, @seraphinitegames: People, Combat, Science, Deduction. Some of these choices will also affect other stats like personality stats, but I won't mention those changes.

A short guide how to avoid receiving a certain scar is included at the end.

Natalie Sewell has compiled a nicely written guide like this last year. You can find it here: https://nataliesewell.tumblr.com/post/186640159470/wayhaven-chronicles-skills-guide

The main difference in my guide is that it adds by exactly how much your skills will be affected with each choice, and it lists some more opportunities for stat increase.

Chapter 1 - The First Victim

How do you deal with the body? [[Look closer at the body.]] %+10 science [[“Do you know who the victim is?”]] %+10 deduction [[“Can they be covered yet? Give them a little peace.”]] %+10 people

The body will be delievered to Verda soon. [[#"Make sure 'she' is dead. She was a person, not just a body."]] %+ 6 people [[#"Hopefully it won't take long to find out more about it."]] %+6 deduction

Why did you join the police force? [[#…I wanted to help people and make them feel safe.]] %+30 people [[#…it was the best career in Wayhaven that could put my mind to use.]] %+30 deduction [[#…with my family so against the army, the police was the next best thing.]] %+20 combat [[#…nothing happens in Wayhaven; it seemed like an easy job.]] %+8 deduction [[#…I like a job with structure and defined rules.]] %+10 deduction [[#…this job allows me to use my scientific skills. There were no other jobs like that in the city.]] %+30 science

Chapter 2 - Investigating the Warehouse

How good are your combat skills? [[#I have decent combat skills; I hope it's enough to deal with whatever might be ahead.]] %+16 combat [[#I have good combat skills, but I'd rather not use them.]] %+30 combat [[#I have good combat skills, so I can deal with whatever is ahead.]] %+30 combat [[#I have decent combat skills, but I'd rather not use them.]] %+16 combat [[#Combat isn't my speciality; I'm much better at talking people down.]] %+12 people [[#Combat isn't my speciality; I much prefer to stick to the investigative side of things.]] %+16 deduction [[#I'm much more science-minded than combat-orientated.]] %+16 science

Exploration. The choices are worded slighlty differently depending on which place you head to, but this is the gist of them: [[#"I'm with the police."]] %+6 people [[#Ready myself.]] %+6 combat [[#Look closer.]] %+6 deduction

Verda calls. The victim's blood is odd. [[#"Is it contagious? Like a disease?"]] %+8 science [[#"And I was hoping for a nice, normal murder."]] %+8 people [[#"I need more than that. Unknowns aren't helpful."]] %+8 deduction

There is someone else in the warehouse. [[#Reach for my gun.]] %+10 combat [[#Tell them to stay where they are.]] %+10 people [[#Try to get to the car.]] %+8 combat [[#Ask who they are and what they want.]] %+10 deduction

What do you do after this confrontation? [[#I just want to go home and go to bed. I won't be of use to anyone tomorrow if I don't rest.]] %+8 deduction [[#I better check around the scene a bit first.]] %+10 science [[#I'll call the station and ask them to be on the lookout.]] %+8 people

What do you tell Tina the next morning? [[#"I don't know. One barrelled into me—the others seemed more interested in him than me."]] %+16 people [[#"There didn't seem to be any evidence of a murder."]] %+16 deduction [[#"I was pretty well prepared, but still, they got the jump on me."]] %+16 combat (if you checked around the scene) [[#"I got this off of one of the strangers." I show the collected blood sample.]] %+18 science

Chapter 3 - Meet Unit Bravo

The coffee machine is broken. [[#Try to fix it. I'm pretty confident with these kinds of things.]] %+16 science [[#Hit it.]] %+4 combat [[#Try to fix it. How hard can it be…for someone who's never tried before?]] %+6 science [[#Turn it off and back on.]] %+6 deduction [[#Leave it alone.]] %+6 deduction

Debrief Unit Bravo. [[#Explain about the victim.]] %+10 people [[#Explain the nature of the crime.]] %+10 deduction [[#Explain what Verda discovered.]] %+10 science [[#Explain about the limited resources available.]] %+4 deduction %+6 combat

If you decide to visit Verda, you will learn more about the blood. [[#"You think that's where the 'odd' blood came from?"]] %+10 science [[#"What does that have to do with the wounds?"]] %+10 combat [[#"How would a blood transfusion kill her?"]] %+10 deduction

If you did not collect the blood sample and did not turn it in for testing (you have to actively select the choice to give the blood sample for testing. The MC won't do it if you don't take the choice). If you didn't do that, you'll get these options at Verda's place. [[#"It's too much of a coincidence that the murder happens, and then these strangers show up."]] %+6 deduction [[#"I think the strange blood needs to be looked at further, over anything else."]] %+6 science [[#"It's all so weird—I'm a bit stumped about where to begin solving this."]] %+6 people

If you decide to head to the crime scene instead. You get this choice if you DID collect the blood sample and turned it in for testing. [[#"It can't just be coincidence."]] %+8 deduction [[#"You never know when any kind of information might come in handy."]] %+8 science [[#"It's an obvious link between the victim and the strangers. How can that not be helpful?"]] %+8 people

If you decide to talk to the witness instead. You get this choice if you DID turn in the blood sample for testing. [[#"That can't just be coincidence."]] %+8 deduction [[#"Great, now I have zombies strolling about town."]] %+8 people [[#"That seems somewhat unlikely, Verda. Are you sure the tests are right?"]] %+8 science

Chapter 4 – The Next Morning

The killer has acted worldwide. What do you think about that? [[#"You think he was trying to mislead authorities by killing all over?"]] %+8 people [[#"Someone who goes to that extreme must have a reason."]] %+8 deduction [[#"Then maybe location really has nothing to do with it."]] %+8 combat

Chapter 5 - Most Horrible News

You have to break the most horrible news to a mother. [[#Kneel down and comfort her.]] %+10 people [[#Wait until she's calmed down before doing anything.]] %-10 people [[#Move her inside quickly.]] %+8 people when with Nate | %+10 people with the others [[#Shift awkwardly.]] %-10 people

What do you focus to work on? [[#Focus efforts on finding a link between the victims.]] %+26 people [[#Concentrate on the oddities in the blood.]] %+26 science [[#Go over all of the evidence again methodically.]] %+26 deduction [[#Follow the occult angle Verda mentioned.]] %+16 deduction

Chapter 6 - Patrol

Do you miss patrolling? [[#"I miss being proactive. Detectives only deal with crimes after they've happened—not prevention."]] %+12 combat [[#"I certainly don't get to interact with people in town as much, which I miss."]] %+12 people [[#"I'm more suited to working through evidence than being out and about as an officer."]] %+12 deduction [[#"It gives me more time in the lab, which is something I enjoy."]] %+12 science

Chapter 9 – After Murphy

How did you first introduce yourself to Verda? [[#I'd introduced myself with enthusiasm, and the two of us hit it off straight away.]] %+12 people [[#His obvious intelligence was…imposing, at first, but I eventually realised he's a really laid-back guy.]] %+8 deduction [[#We were both focused on work, but got to know each other in time.]] %+12 deduction [[#Another science-minded colleague was just what I'd needed; we bonded over our shared interest.]] %+12 science

Chapter 10 – The Agency

Will you do the tests? Why? [[#Do the tests—I'm interested in the results myself.]] %+20 science [[#Do the tests—it's the only way to find out what's really going on.]] %+20 deduction [[#Do the tests—I need to know how to defend myself with this mutation.]] %+20 combat [[#Do the tests—I want to help them as much as I can.]] %+20 people [[#Don't do the tests—as interested as I am in the results, I can't risk it.]] %+16 science [[#Don't do the tests—I can work this out without them.]] %+16 deduction [[#Don't do the tests—I can defend myself well enough without them.]] %+16 combat [[#Don't do the tests—I want to help, but I just don't know the Agency.]] %+16 people

Chapter 14 – Relaxing at the Bakery and about Thralls

M takes you to the thralls. [[#"Those poor people…."]] %+12 people [[#"It would be fascinating to study how that works…."]] %+12 science [[#"So vampires use humans as toys as well as food? Jeez!"]] %+8 people [[#"I bet the Agency likes to keep a lot of things that way."]] %+8 deduction [[#"Keep an eye on the enemy. Makes good tactical sense."]] %+12 combat [[#"I guess that makes it easier to keep an eye on them."]] %+12 deduction

Chapter 16 – Attacked at Home

Fending off the thralls. You only get skill points if you don't yet have 40 skill points in the respective skill. [[#Fight the thralls.]] %+6 combat [[#Survey the scene for an advantage.]] %+4 science, %+6 deduction (only on M's route. On the other routes, ONLY %+6 science)

Chapter 18 – Entrapped by Murphy

Murphy knows more about your blood. [[#"Wait, you know what my blood does?"]] %+6 science

Murphy wants to inject his blood in you. [[#"You put that in me, and then what?"]] %+6 deduction

Follow up choice, "it should take this time." [[#"Don't you even care about the people you've killed?"]] %+6 people

Chapter 19 - Escape

You are alone with your bonds. [[#Try to wriggle wrists out of bonds.]] %+6 combat [[#Look for something to loosen bonds.]] %+6 deduction

To get bitten or not get bitten.

To avoid getting bitten by Murphy, you have to gather at least 3 "energy" points. Alternatively,  you can successfully "Observe" the battle in the previous choice (combat or deduction at least 55) and then also avoid getting bitten.

You start with 0 energy at the point when you try to escape..

+1 through a successful skill check on the first choice (trying to escape the bonds, or don't risk it)

If you escape, +1 if you admit you can't go on. Don't push yourself.

If you stay, do not warn UB. Just keep quiet. Yelling is exhausting.

Final point for "try to stay out of the way" or successfully tending to your wounds (people 60, science 55). Alternatively observing the fight (combat/deduction 55)

If you do want the bites, obviously don’t save any energy. Wrist bite: [[#Try to hit out at him.]] Neck bite: [[#Dodge]], [[#Too shocked.]]

Murphy’s fate

He either escapes or gets captured.

To capture Murphy, you have to select a choice that fits your skills the best. You need at least 50 points in the skill. [[#There must be something around here that can help.]] at least 50 deduction [[#I just have to think harder about what's happening to Murphy….]] at least 50 science [[#It may not be much, but I can join the fight!]] at least 50 combat [[#I just need to get through to Murphy. Talk to him.]] at least 50 people

[hockeysweetheart]

I look back to the crowd, but the faces of Rue's mother and father swim before my eyes. Their sorrow. Their loss. I turn spontaneously to Chaff and offer my hand. I feel my fingers close around the stump that now completes his arm and hold fast. And then it happens. Up and down the row, the victors begin to join hands. Some right away, like the morphlings, or Wiress and Beetee. Others unsure but caught up in the demands of those around them, like Brutus and Enobaria. By the time the anthem plays its final strains, all twenty-four of us stand in one unbroken line in what must be the first public show of unity among the districts since the Dark Days. You can see the realization of this as the screens begin to pop into blackness. It's too late, though. In the confusion they didn't cut us off in time. Everyone has seen. There's disorder on the stage now, too, as the lights go out and we're left to stumble back into the Training Center. I've lost hold of Chaff, but Peeta guides me into an elevator. Finnick and Johanna try to join us, but a harried Peacekeeper blocks their way and we shoot upward alone.

“Oh look their holding hands I want them dead”

Around the Cornucopia, the ground appears to be bleeding; the water has purple stains. Bodies lie on the ground and float in the sea, but at this distance, with everyone dressed exactly the same, I can't tell who lives or dies. All I can tell is that some of the tiny blue figures still battle. Well, what did I think? That the victors' chain of locked hands last night would result in some sort of universal truce in the arena? No, I never believed that. But I guess I had hoped people might show some ... what? Restraint? Reluctance, at least. Before they jumped right into massacre mode. And you all knew each other, I think. You acted like friends. I have only one real friend in here. And he isn't from District 4. I let the slight, soupy breeze cool my cheeks while I come to a decision. Despite the bangle, I should just get it over with and shoot Finnick. There's really no future in this alliance. And he's too dangerous to let go. Now, when we have this tentative trust, may be my only chance to kill him. I could easily shoot him in the back as we walk. It's despicable, of course, but will it be any more despicable if I wait? Know him better? Owe him more? No, this is the time. I take one last look at the battling figures, the bloody ground, to harden my resolve, and then slide to the ground. But when I land, I find Finnick's kept pace with my thoughts. As if he knows what I have seen and how it will have affected me. He has one of his tridents raised in a casually defensive position. "What's going on down there, Katniss? Have they all joined hands? Taken a vow of nonviolence? Tossed the weapons in the sea in defiance of the Capitol?" Finnick asks. "No," I say. "No," Finnick repeats. "Because whatever happened in the past is in the past. And no one in this arena was a victor by chance." He eyes Peeta for a moment. "Except maybe Peeta." Finnick knows then what Haymitch and I know. About Peeta. Being truly, deep-down better than the rest of us. Finnick took out that tribute from 5 without blinking an eye. And how long did I take to turn deadly? I shot to kill when I targeted Enobaria and Gloss and Brutus. Peeta would at least have attempted negotiations first. Seen if some wider alliance was possible. But to what end? Finnick's right. I'm right. The people in this arena weren't crowned for their compassion

[sopeyb23-blog]

Coming Home

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6

Summary: As Spencer recovers in the hospital OC struggles with being back home

Warnings: Injury, hospitals, anxiety, swearing, angst?

Parings: OC x Spencer Reid

words: 1K +

A/N: still behind on updating so i’ll probably spam today. also, definitely lmk if there is something you want me to put on my warnings or tagging lists, i’m kinda new with all that.

* I don’t own any CM characters.

~~~~~~~~

Part 6

Spencer~ 

Even in her sleep I could tell how uncomfortable she was being back here. Whenever I used to ask her about why she hated Maine so much she always brushed me off - “i have a history there thats all”- after a few months I decided not to push it anymore. I knew better than anyone that pushing would get you nowhere, she would tell me, in time. Penelope sat in the chair next to my bed with two laptops and her phone out as she tried to communicate with the team from the room. Every few minutes she would look up at me and give me a wide eyed smile before handing me another Jell-o. My favorite.

“Hey Garcia?”

“Yes my dear boy?” I laughed weakly before and looked over at my sleeping girlfriend.

“How hard would it be to convince you to help me sit up?” she laughed at me before stopping abruptly.

“Are you being for real? Oh no. no way. Yeah no way. I don't want to get killed by the sweet baby angle that is about to be my newest best friend. No thank you.” I gave her a pout but agreed. For now I would just have to live with the short glances I got of her when I could get enough strength to briefly lift my head.

“Hey Spencer?” Penelope shut both of her computers to look at me.

“Does she usually do that in her sleep?” immediately I started to panic. The cot was directly across the room from my bed, and with the way my body was positioned I couldn't see whatever the “that” Penelope was referring to was.

“What do you mean? Is she alright? Help me sit up!”

“Woah, woah, woah. Hold on a second, no need to panic, she's not like dying or anything, just twitching. Weirdly.”

“What do you mean weirdly! Like a seizure kind of weird or a muscle twitch Garcia?” I scrambled trying to sit up but the wave of pain that I immediately felt discouraged me.

“Garcia, if you help me sit up, i’ll- i’ll tell you every single detail of how I first met her, and I’ll throw in a new glow in the dark piglet for your desk!” She did a classic sounding ‘Garcia Groan’ but finally grabbed the remote for the bed and tilted me up just enough to see the cot across the room.

 I had seen her do this before. We called it her, ‘Holy trinity of anxiety’ - “I was doing it again last night wasn’t I?” “don’t worry about it Soph, it's not a big deal okay?” “will you at least tell me what it is?” “It's just something your body does to cope with the anxiety that you feel even when you are asleep. You only do it when something is really really bothering you, that's how I knew I needed to make you pancakes today”- After the first time I noticed her doing that in her sleep when we started dating, she had done it maybe three times total. The first was when I had just come home from the first case I had taken while we were dating, the second, was the night after she found out her childhood best friend killed himself. Her personal ‘Holy trinity of anxiety’ was when she combined three of her worst nervous tics, all at the same time, while she was sleeping. Her three worst are common ones, but also the hardest to control, leg tapping, cheek biting, and either picking relentlessly at her fingers, or digging her nails into her palms.  

This wasn't just because I was shot, this was what she did whenever I mentioned her home here when she was awake. Something happened here. Something so bad that she wouldn't tell me what. I hated it. The not knowing. It was something that I rarely have to deal with. One of the reasons that I constantly like to read and learn is so that I never have to be in a situation where I don't know anything. The only two areas that I was constantly stumped by were social interactions, and my girlfriends past.

Sophie~ 

When I woke up on the cot in Spencer’s hospital room my first thought was that I must have dreamt it all. As soon as I shook that off after seeing the docks of Portland out the window, my second thought was to really check on Spencer. I had been in such a panic all of yesterday the only real information I was able to retain was that he was shot, but he was alive. Now was time for my medical degree to come in handy.

“Why are you all looking at me like i’m a lost puppy?” As soon as I sat up Penelope closed her computers and Spencer slightly tilted his head and smiled. 

“Wait. a damn. Minute” I immediately noticed that Spencer was sitting up and Penelope was trying to cover the bags of dum dum wrappers and empty jello packs at her feet.

“Spencer, who helped you up?” 

“Ummmmm, I don't know what you mean?”

“Spencer Reid. For a profiler you are the worst liar in the world. And Penelope, I know you did it, but I don't blame you because I know exactly how persuasive his eyes are” she sighed and gave me a big smile.

“RIght? I mean look at them, it's a crime!” Spencer blushed and looked back at me with a face I had seen plenty of times. It's how he looked at me whenever he promised he would be there for something and had to leave. It was his guilty face.

“Spence, what’s up?”

“I'm just sorry.”  my shoulders dropped in response to hearing his voice, much louder and much more normal than last night.

“Baby there's nothing you could have done, we all know that.”

“I know its just, I know how much you hate it here, and I never wanted to worry you so much that you did a sleeping holy trinity, and now i'm afraid that you'll never not see me as hurt, and what if i just become a reminder of the pain you feel, and-” I shut him up by placing a very gentle kiss to his lips as I sometimes did when he went into rants. 

“Well, looks like you two have things covered, i'm going to the cafeteria to give the team some updates” Penelope grabbed her purse and phone and left the room with a few excited glances back at us. 

“So I was doing a sleeping trinity?”

“Yeah, a bad one”

“Did you tell Garcia about-”

“No, I would never, not unless you want me to.”

“No, the only person who knows i’m here so far is my mom so-.”

“Will you tell me what happened now?”

“Later. I just need to adjust for now” I didn't want him to be disappointed by me not telling him. But I needed time. Well, more time. For now I needed to focus on him, and get both of us out of here. He moved toward the clothes bag I bought for him that was hanging on the edge of his bed. 

“And what do you think you're doing?”

“I hate these gowns you know that”

“That does not give you a free pass to move around, here let me help you” I could tell that the slight movement toward the end of the bed was enough to make even Spencer (who always refused pain medication because of his past addiction) want double doses of morphine. He groaned when I helped him take the loose gown down from his shoulders and I expertly guided the large sweatshirt over his head.

“I can do it-”

“Hey, baby, I’m here for a reason, and I've looked at your chart enough to know how bad that shoulder must hurt. No more of your trademarked ‘I'm the brilliant Spencer Reid and I dont need anyones help’ crap, okay?``Eventually he relented and seeing him in his own clothes again brought me a new level of peace that just a few hours ago I thought I would never feel again.

[rhetoricalrogue]

all 10 for the writer asks 💕

THANK YOU!

1. How do you approach worldbuilding (if it’s an AU) or research (if it’s an established canon)?

I usually make some preliminary notes if it’s an AU on what main sort of things I would like to have happen, for example, looking up fashion trends, top music hits, and some sort of big current event that an everyday person would be aware of.  Then I’d sort of spiderweb out (80s AU: who wore popped collars and khaki shorts? Which character from this fandom would fit that? Who would throw a watch party for Luke and Laura’s wedding or talk endlessly about who really shot JR? If these characters were going through a recession and changing politics, how would they react? What sort of jobs would they have and/or be getting laid off from? Is there a chance to have a Mr. Mom character?) to form the meat of the story’s details.  Of course, this means going through research rabbit holes and spending hours finding things that I only use for a throwaway line, but that’s usually the way it is.

For established canon research, I’m usually pulling up Wikis, looking up fansites for details, checking out maps or guides to remember plotline specific missions, or pulling the old reliable “Oh NO. I have to play/read/watch this thing AGAIN. WhatEVER shall I do?”

2. What do you do to understand the characters better and get into their head space?

I usually pull out those boring party icebreaker type questions and throw them at the characters. I”ll also make playlists or moodboards and just list out random little personality facts and character quirks until things start to take shape.

3.  How long do you usually spend writing a chapter? (considering only the actual hours you spend writing/typing!)

Actually typing? It depends on how much free time I have. A chapter/one-shot normally takes a week or two total to write during a busy work week, or roughly anywhere from 8-10 hours on a weekend if I have uninterrupted time and energy to focus on something for a solid block of time.  Lately the norm has been 5-10 minutes here and there pecking on my phone at a rough idea so that whenever I do have time set aside to write, I’ll already have most of the main idea laid out, even if it’s full of [insert big, dramatic scene here] or [LET THEM KISS] notes to myself in the middle of actual written paragraphs.

4. How does your writing happen? Do you visualize scenes playing out in your head, or do they come out in words as you type?

Usually I’ll have an extremely vague idea on where I would like the story to go and then keep everything as flexible as possible in case characters decide to go out onto left field and start doing their own thing. Sometimes I’ll have a very set “this is how I want the story to end” and sometimes it’ll just...stop all on its own. The middle parts are usually the most difficult to pin down, but what I’ll usually do is write until I get stumped, make an [IDEK where this is going, future!me, help!] note for myself, and then move on to another part. Eventually, I’ll get to a point where I can tie things together, or if I can’t, then I can decide if I want to keep going with the story as-is, or if I want to cut and paste what I have to salvage for something else later and then start fresh. If I’m stumped, I’ll read back what I’ve read and try to visualize what’s happening as a scene in a movie to troubleshoot what’s not flowing correctly for me.

5. How long do you spend editing each complete chapter/story?

It depends! If I’m pressed for time (or if I’m tired of writing and just want to be done) then I’ll spend about 15-20 minutes. I usually regret that time frame because I’ll hit Post and then find so many typos or half-finished sentences and whole paragraphs I wish that I would have structured differently!  Normally, if I’m not working on deadlines, I’ll finish writing and then let a day or two pass, maybe even a week, for me to forget details and then I’ll spend an hour reading through it with a fresh set of eyes to catch inconsistencies or grammatical errors.

6. When you write emotional scenes, do you feel what the characters are feeling?

Sometimes? I mean, if you’re asking if I’ve ever made myself cry writing something, then the answer is yes.  Then I usually go wail in a mutual’s messages because if I have to feel all the things, they do too. That’s the rules.

7. To you, what is the most important part of writing a romantic relationship?

Building on mutual trust and respect and then showing little intimate moments, like Character A remembering what Character B’s favorite food from this one place is so they can surprise them when they know they’re having a rough day or Character B leaving little hearts in the steamed up bathroom mirror for Character A to find when they get out of the shower, that sort of thing.

A relationship is not all sunshine and rainbows. Writing them having arguments and disagreements, but then understanding the other’s stance and coming to a compromise or apologizing. Having them work together to solve a problem.

Making their relationship a part of them, but not the end all, be all of their characters. They’re whole characters unto themselves, a relationship just so happens to be a facet of who they are instead of the linchpin of their personalities. Making them “Significant Other of Character A” and not elaborating on who they are when they’re not with Character A makes them flat, IMO.

8. What are three things you’re proudest of when it comes to your writing? Dialogue, descriptions, humour, romantic fluff, kisses, action, pacing, worldbuilding, setting, anything! Even small things like sentence structures and the way your characters banter counts!

Answered here

9. What are three weaknesses in your writing that you’re very aware of, that you’d like to spend time working on to improve your works?

Action scenes, especially fight scenes

Working on taking more time to edit and catching things before posting

Trying to plot longer multi-chapter stories with arcs instead of one-shots

10. If you were to visit your past self now and give them a piece of writing advice, what would that advice be?

Answered here, but what the hell, here’s another one: don’t be afraid to reach out to fic writers or fan artists that you admire. 9 times out of 10, you’re going to find that the people that you’ve been too intimidated to talk to were just as nervous about talking to you too and there’s a possibility of making new friends.

[phytolacca-a]

Writeup: First Non-PGM Spell Performed- Third or Fourth Spell Ever. 11/27/19

At the time of writing this I’ve just done a nine-knot spell written in the latter half of the Call of the Horned Piper. It seemed like one I could try out. This will be a long post. This is written directly after working- this post will be edited and added onto once I feel that either it had effects, flopped, or somewhere in between. This will be marked with “EDIT:”

EDIT: didn’t work (which is fine.) I’ve tried to divine on why and what to do better, although I don’t fully understand the “why” I got. If anyone would like to give their input on the “why” or try help me out in understanding it, it’s welcomed. Readings will be at the end.

Nine-Knot Spell, Intended for Good Business and Finance Influx

I saw mentions of business for what to utilize under Mercury and figured, since it’s a Wednesday when I want to try this out (and was told via divination to go ahead and try “tonight”- I did this at like 3am and ended maybe just before 4am so it’s Wednesday.)

Prep: I showered beforehand (although it took me a little while after to begin this spell. The book said to use a deep blue thread on Wednesday, and when looking up colors corresponding to Mercury I saw white. Since the only thread I have is much too thin for my preference of this I combined 2 white threads and 2 blue threads to both thicken what I was working with and utilize a number I saw associated with Mercury (4.) I asked one of my object-spirits to help me with this and strengthen the spell. I lit a candle and tried to get in the “working headspace” to do the spell so I stared into the candle for a while (trying to kinda meditate, but as I’ve said before I’m horrible at it.) Maybe 10 minutes? I can’t tell. 

Procedure: I then began to knot the threads. The book tells you to try to focus intently on what you want out of the spell while making it so as I formed the knots slowly I tried to run through and focus on what I wanted (again, business related, and also to land a job) and I allotted time with mixes of “immediately, immediately, (immediately), as soon as possible, as soon as possible, (as soon as possible.)

Each knot was pulled/made as I said the corresponding phrases given in the book:

“One to start the spell upon, Two to pull the magic through, Three to rouse it mightily, Four for power strong and sure, Five to bring the spell alive, Six the magic might to fix, Seven for the secret leaven, Eight to turn the web of fate, Nine the hidden spell I bind!”

At the end of the tying I felt compelled to clap 9 times (in intervals of 3.) Don’t know if it did anything other than make me feel as if it concluded properly.

I wrapped the thread around my wrist (as it says to wear on person if the spell was intended for you.)

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

Immediate thoughts on what I could’ve done better: 

Although I tried to start out in a better headspace to do this, I was still very anxious and that nervousness and anxiety did persist through the working.

I’m not sure how much the object spirit I chose out of the two that felt like they wanted to help could actually help, since I have no idea what abilities they actually have and if they can directly help me. I did say that if he helped me I would refill my givings to them tomorrow so I will. 

Right when I began to pick up the thread and tie it the object (with the spirit)’s head fell from being propped up against the wall and startled me pretty hard. I think it might’ve grounded whatever I had done with the candle (not sure if good or bad?) Will divine on later.

The book calls for the knots to be... regularly spaced. I, unfortunately, didn’t realize how bad I am at tying knots with the same spacing until I did this. The thinness of the thread(s) did Not do me any favors... and neither did my super long nails. 4 knots ended up directly back to back (2 each) and the rest were unevenly spaced (albeit better than the first 4.) We’ll see how much affect this has.

I feel I could’ve done more... Coming to mind is to directly call on the planet Mercury (something Maybe like “Mercury, I call to you on your day to assist me in my endeavors under you.”) and maybe done something with the planet sign? I cannot burn incense in my current situation so unfortunately that isn’t an option right now.

Speaking of my room, I think I REALLY need to cleanse it properly. The last time I did so was 2 years ago almost exactly. I need to cleanse it and try to ward it from things I don’t want in here.

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

EDIT: Here I will attempt to write out my readings I got via cards. This deck is supposed to be mainly used via intuition & visual clues, though there is a list of interpreted meanings added on later. I try to mainly interpret Without the list, but when I’m really stumped I cave in and see if they make sense contextually. I think now that this is how I read, the cards seem to do a mixed bag of intuitive & listed.

“Tell me exactly why my nine-knot spell didn’t work”

Well, I’m having a really hard time trying to figure out what this means. An interesting thing I notice after writing down what I can interpret is that this is much more of a chaptered reading than I initially thought. The Omen through Divining seem to = Prepwork. Consciousness through Earth = Right as I started and throughout it. The Dragonfly = The tying of the knots. At least The Soul = the ending & after, and I think Visitation might have been a misdraw.

I asked if I am supposed to take the moon phases literally or not (i.e. when I should’ve done the spell vs. their spiritual meanings) and got Not.

Here is the closest I can get to interpreting this:

The Omen & The Spider- I had too little assistance didn’t have a clear plan on what all I should do. (Based on guide)

Duality- Well, if his was more based in the guide, maybe something about..... black and white thinking? If this was based upon the feeling of the imagery in context, this could be that I was too unfocused; too scattered.

Death- In the next reading, the Death card felt like a higher spirit. Not sure if its meaning is the same in this context, but if so, this could mean I had not called on a higher spirit.

The Heart, Waxing Gibbous, Magick, Waxing Crescent- I think this is about my anxiety and not feeling deeply enough or bringing up intense enough feelings about what I was saying and wanting it to do. I think the Magick card being encapsulated by both Waxing Gibbous and Waxing Crescent mean that^ and that there was not enough energy being raised and used while doing the spell.

The Crystal, Divining- The given suggested meanings correspond nicely together, though I’m not sure on the clear message it’s giving.. The Crystal says “hidden treasure, the core issue, synthesis.” Divining says “a search, finding a hidden source, latent information, need to dig beneath the surface.” These together might indicate I could’ve divined more either before or maybe during it but didn’t..? There might’ve been important information I wasn’t aware of.

Consciousness, The Obelisk, Earth- I think this might be talking about how I might’ve been too grounded during the whole thing. Again, pointing back to the lack of raised energy?

The Dragonfly- I think this is talking about me fucking up the spacing of the knots.

Visitation, The Soul- I... really don’t understand, at least not Visitation. The Soul might have to do with my immediate feeling afterwards that it wouldn’t work and my immediate theorizing on what I could’ve done better. (Something of note is that I think Visitation is the card I pulled and felt “maybe that shouldn’t have been added” but did anyway. It may be a misdraw.)

“How should I do better the next time I do a nine-knot spell?”

Honestly I think this one is much more understandable. This, I’m pretty sure says:

The Hive- Utilize and employ your spirits better. (The Hive seems to be signifier to the little uh... “community”? I have.) 

Death- Utilize/Ask/Call to a higher power/spirit. (Feelings based off of the imagery)

The Obelisk- Get some sort of (better) energy source. <- This one I used the “meanings” list and used the one that felt right.

Waxing Gibbous- Cleanse! Do more cleansing of your space/things/yourself.

Telepathy- I think this means to work on my psychic skills, focus, mindwork, etc.

Conclusion: It didn’t work, but it seemed to be a very good learning experience. I’ll have to read back on this the next time I try this. -I’m assuming I might’ve been right that I could’ve called on Mercury to assist me, or maybe a mercury-corresponded deity to assist me? This would then be coupled with some sort of offering that isn’t incense which I’ll have to think on. -I was right I need to cleanse my room. -I also am thinking that maybe I should somehow do this magic (and probably other spells) in front of where my spirits are (which is sort of problematic but I’m sure doable.)

[backoftheroomandnotbelonging]

73 questions.

I was tagged by @enchantedamusedslightlyconfused

I tag @iamdorka  @xwonderlandxinxhellx @mrs-machinegun-norris (you’re my top three recommended tags)

On a scale of 1-10, how excited are you about life right now?

Like, a 5? I’m at a point in my life that I can go in any direction so I have a lot of freedom and choice. But, I have no idea where I want to be going so I’m in limbo and that makes me anxious...

Describe yourself in a hashtag?

#backoftheroomandnotbelonging

I use it to tag any content I’m posting and Tumblr is typically where I’m the most honest.

If you could do a love scene with anyone, who would it be?

Oooo I don’t know

Colson? Yungblud, maybe Mod Sun as well...

Definitely Colson though - that man is a dream 👀

If your life was a musical, what would the marquee say?

I genuinely don’t have the foggiest...

What’s one thing people don’t know about you?

I’ve done pole fitness since I was 14.

What’s your wake up ritual?

Wake up, check the number of notifications I have on my phone, have a wash, get dressed, makeup, breakfast.

What’s your go to bed ritual?

PJs, have a wash, music, lights out, music, fanfiction, daydream, pass out.

What’s your favourite time of day?

Anytime between 2:00 and 4:30 in the morning. It’s when my house is guaranteed to be asleep so I’m finally able to just stop and be me.

Your go to for having a good laugh?

I don’t actually remember the last time I had a good laugh...

KellyVision makes me chuckle though.

Dream country to visit?

America. It’s kinda cliche but oh well. Definitely hitting up Cleveland for EST Fest and maybe NYC. Probably would wanna go to an amusement park as well - I just have this idea that they’re very different to British ones.

And NZ! My cousins are there and together? We’re hurricanes.

What’s the biggest surprise you’ve had?

This is one of those questions that I suddenly can’t think of an answer for.

Maybe @xwonderlandxinxhellx​?

I don’t even remember how we started talking but I never thought (I dreamed but never thought) that I would actually make a friend on Tumblr.

So, thank you 🖤

Heels or flats/sneakers?

CONVERSE! I will die in my Chucks.

That being said, ya girl loves feeling herself in heels. I can’t do normal heels so I have these block heel brogues that I adore.

Vintage or new?

I adore the vintage style but sizing often isn’t on my size.

Also love some dark punk grunge clothing.

Who do you want to write your obituary?

I don’t want an obituary.

When I die I want that to be it. No funeral, no nothing.

Style icon?

Colson, Dom?

I’m very into aesthetics that I could never really pull off.

What are three things you can’t live without?

My glasses

My headphones

The Bloom album (quite literally in this case)

What’s one ingredient you put in everything?

Mixed herbs or sweetcorn.

Love Worcestershire Sauce as well.

What 3 people living or dead would you like to make dinner for?

Colson Baker (needs a heartwarming homecooked meal)

And there are probably others but none that really spring to mind.

My mum, to thank her?

What’s your biggest fear in life?

Fear of isolation

I’m not scared of being abandoned (if you do that to me then you’re doing me a favour)

But I am scared of closing myself off to people that could be there for me and letting things get bad and consume me again.

Window or aisle seat?

Aisle seat!

I like looking at what’s going on about me.

And it’s odd but I also don’t hate the inconvenience of getting up to let people pass.

What’s your current TV obsession?

Roadies.

And nothing else will ever match it. It’s a crime it was cancelled before a second season.

Favourite app?

Tumblr, followed closely by Pinterest.

I think it’s because they’re spaces that are specifically for your interests, dreams, all that mess in your head and I vibe with that.

Secret talent?

I’m not very talented, not gonna lie.

I can rap all of Breaking News which I feel is impressive?

Most adventurous thing you’ve done in your life?

I’ve not had many opportunities to be adventurous.

Skipping school always gave me such anxiety so my body definitely thought I was jumping off a cliff or something.

How would you define yourself in three words?

Witty, fangirl, brave?

Favourite piece of clothing you own?

I have a green and grey checkered suit jacket that I adore.

My Adder Technology jumper is my favourite oversized item.

Black ripped jeans.

Must have clothing item everyone should have?

Brown leather belt. I don’t know why but I’ll never go back.

Superpower you would want?

Power of time? Just to like slow it down. I feel like I don’t have enough time to do anything so to slow it down and get shit done would be great. Or just to give myself a minute to breathe. We don’t get enough ‘time out’s in life.

What’s inspiring you in life right now?

Colson has always been inspiring to me.

He came into my life when I was 15 and literally saved it. He’s always going to mean that to me.

Best piece of advice you’ve received?

Mod Sun: I’ve always been a little bit reluctant to say I’m gonna be the best at something because I didn’t wanna disrespect other people, like ‘Imma be the best at something, you can’t have it’. So I’d never really be like that. But if you don’t say you’re gonna be the best at what you’re doing, your insides, that power that you have, doesn’t know what the fuck to do.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4JUdgoHnL4Q&list=LLF69NADeUPVjZWSlZpeiGWg&index=3&t=0s

Best advice you’d give your teenage self?

Just live, please. We were so close to not living and yet here we are. Please, please, just throw the rule book in the flames. Go to school hungover, pull allnighters to just feel music, smoke, don’t do your homework.

Promise me to be unapologetically yourself.

A book that everyone should read?

In Cold Blood by Truman Capote - just stick with it...it’s an interesting story and raises some questions about life.

The Selection Series by Keira Cass - my favourite YA series.

Harry Potter by JK Rowling - pretty self explanatory? 

What would you like to be remembered for?

I don’t wanna be remembered.

I’m gone, just move on. Find a new energy to bring into your life.

How do you define beauty?

    (That is a purposeful blank space.)

What do you love most about your body?

That it’s never given up on me.

Best way to take a rest/decompress?

Music as loud as possible so you can just lose yourself.

Favourite place to view art?

Oh this has me stumped.

I like art that is significant but isn’t technically legally displayed.

If your life were a song, what would the title be?

It would 100% be a word or phrase that wouldn’t turn up in the lyrics at all.

But you listen to it and the title seems like the perfect title, nothing else could represent this song.

If you could master one instrument, what would it be?

Guitar, bass? No, drums. Vocals...

I just want some musical talent!

If you had a tattoo, where would it be?

Oooo, get ready.

Bee, on my collarbone.

Lace Up, on my wrist.

Tree, on my sternum.

Stars/an astronaut/a solar system, somewhere undecided.

Dolphins or koalas?

Don’t really have a preference...

But the dolphins in Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy were great so...

What’s your spirit animal?

I think maybe a seal?

Best gift you’ve ever received?

My headphones.

I have tiny ears so have always struggled to find earbuds that are comfortable for a long period of time.

I found some!

And then they were discontinued so it’s really difficult to buy them.

I was surprised with 3 pairs once and I practically cried.

Best gift you’ve ever given?

Ummm, I’m not very artsy creative but I once made my mum a birthday card using a teabag, I think she liked it?

I was a teenager so it was really rare that I ever did something artistic so I think she especially appreciated the effort and discomfort I felt.

What’s your favourite board game?

Chess.

Game of Life.

Cards against humanity.

What’s your favourite colour?

Grey.

Least favourite colour?

I used to have this severe hate for pink because it was forced on me as a child (I shared a room with my little sister and she loved pink so pink was what she got.)

I’ve grown out of it: pink is punk as fuck.

Diamonds or pearls?

I don’t really have a preference.

I much prefer simple things.

If we’re talking jewellery then I like plain silver.

Drugstore makeup or designer?

Ummm...I’m not sure how to differentiate.

I try and use Natural Collection for the base of my makeup but my eyeliner and eyebrows are Rimmel London and NYX.

Blow-dry or air-dry?

Air-dry

These curls only work one way and that’s their way.

Pilates or yoga?

Both.

Depends on what I need in the moment.

Coffee or tea?

Neither!

I’m not allowed so it’s hot chocolate all the wayyyy.

What’s the weirdest word in the English language?

The weirdest words are the ones that you learnt reading so pronounce one way when actually it’s said entirely differently.

Me, in Year 10, with the word ‘epitome’.

Dark chocolate or milk chocolate?

Depends on my mood really...

Cadbury released this bar that mixed the two together and that seems kinda perfect.

Stairs or elevator?

Either

I like racing people in the lifts to see if I can get up the stairs quicker. Such a child, I know.

Summer or winter?

Winter, for sure.

Natural ginger so the summer is the worst thing I’ve ever experienced.

You are stuck on an island, you can pick one food to eat forever without getting tired of it, what would you eat?

Mash.

A desert you don’t like?

Apple pie (or any fruit pie)

And custard.

A skill you’re working on mastering?

Skateboarding.

No time like quarantine, eh?

Best thing to happen to you today?

Woke up naturally alert so felt ready to tackle the day productively for the first time since lockdown began.

Best compliment you’ve ever received?

That my writing has helped someone.

Someone told me that A Night of Many Firsts perfectly represented what they were feeling and helped them feel strong enough to get help.

Favourite smell?

My deodorant, baking, the local library.

Hugs or kisses?

Hugs. Simple as.

If you made a documentary, what would it be about?

Intense case study of teenage mental illness into adulthood.

Last piece of content you consumed that made you cry?

Pretty Toxic Revolver - Machine Gun Kelly

Probably every episode of Torchwood ever

Lipstick or lip gloss?

Lipstick

Sweet or savoury?

Savoury. Vegan corn chowder, garlic bread, potatoes.

Girl crush?

I don’t really have any?

I mean, I’m bi but no one really comes to mind.

How you know you’re in love?

I’ve never been in love but I hope it would be seeing them and feeling peace.

Knowing that they get every part of you, good and bad, and still choose to stay. And vice versa.

Song you can listen to on repeat?

Pretty much anything MGK

Currently feeling the Lace Up album.

If you could switch lives with someone for a day who would it be?

I wouldn’t want to be someone else.

I’d much rather be able to jump forward and experience a day in my future...for reassurance.

What are you most excited about at this time in your life?

Travelling.

I’m leaving and hopefully never coming back to this place, this mindset, again.

[whenimgoodandready]

4 years ago, I heard about “Star vs. The Forces of Evil”. I didn’t think much of it, but I gave it a shot (it was like a childhood callback to my “Sailor Moon” phase when I was younger) to see how it was. I made a little review about it to let everyone know what I thought and after a couple of more episodes, I was drawn to it! A twist on the Magical Girl genre of the heroine open with her being magical and fighting villains while still going about an everyday life. Neat characters, funny dialogue, cool storylines, original music scores, plot twists and the shipping dramas! I was so obsessed I made fanart/animation, bought whatever merchandise there was of it! (Star and Marco’s Guide to Mastering Every Dimension (original and Stump Day Edition) and The Magic Book of Spells) and been having dreams of the show as well! My reviews have changed since the first season. It started out as just words, but then came frames and then later pictures and now, finally gifs! Writing is my passion. I just love writing down how I feel about things and having others see it and what I have to say about it as if I’m a voice to the people. Speaking of which, I gotta get to this finale review before I’m over my writing limit is up. Lol!

We open with what we saw in the promo for finale. Star transforms in her golden Mewberty form getting ready to enter the portal to The Realm of Magic, say The Whispering Spell there and destroy all the magic. Despite the major drawback to the aftermath (No Starco😢). She turns down Eclipsa and Moons advice on taking on Mina all together and is just single minded on her plan. Star, maybe that would’ve been a better idea. You know, like the whole Total Annihilation Spell thing that Eclipsa used! That could still work! Huh!? HUH!? HUH!? C’mon!!! (are we not gonna call her out for making a hasty decision based on her impulsive anger from her Moms betrayal!?) Before that however, she didn’t tell Marco the bad news of her plan to save him from heartbreak and Hekapoo was cool with Star going forward with her plan. Uh, seriously Hekapoo!? YOU’RE GONNA DIE! WHO’S THIS CHILL ABOUT DYING!? Guess after literally everything she thought, “Eh, I lived a long life. Besides, magic sucks a**”. Okay, I mean, if that’s how she feels then.

Marco goes with her and after getting one last back handed burning slap on the head (“Running with Scissors”), takes the wand from Moon and gives it the old “Marcos wand” look! (“Deep Dive”) Unknownst to Moon that he’s used it before. (the drawn on mole would’ve been a nice touch. I’m just sayin’). This is it! Their one last adventure before the whole things over. With that, they hold hands (Marco choosing the top arm of Stars left) and walk into the portal to destroy the magic. Oh God!

They arrive in The Realm of Magic and Star tries to do The Whispering Spell while Marco eats pudding that Glossaryck left behind for him and Star. Unfortunately, Star starts to lose her memories and Marco realizes he’s still fine. He finds out it’s the pudding! The Pudding!? OMG! You mean to tell me this is why Glossaryck kept eating pudding the whole time!? Not just because it was delicious! WOW! Marco shoves some pudding in Star which help keep her memories and then they see..............

Thomas Draconius Lucitor! Riding on the corrupted dark unicorn from “Mama Star”! Hey Tom! How you been!? Haven’t seen you since well, that episode I just mentioned! Last we checked, you were stuck in your demon form on fire and with that seatbelt still on!..............which you’re now wearing as a sash for some reason. Guess you never were sent back to Mewni, or the Underworld, or wherever else cuz no one bothered to mention what became of you. Tom, we can explain! A lot of sh*t happened in Mewni and it was all Mina (and Moons) fault! Also Starco is for finally canon and Stars gonna destroy the magic! Btw, why do you have glowing blank eyes like Stars real/fake ancestry?....................Tom, you’re scaring us............Tom, why are you charging at Starco!? Are you pissed that they forgot you!? TOM! TOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!

Back on Mewni, River and Eddie finally make it to the sanctuary to save Globgor and just before they could open it, Mina catches them and the two biggest idiots of Mewni accidentally blurt out what they’re gonna do! (face palms). No thanks to that, Mina now tries to get into the sanctuary.

Over to The Realm of Magic again, Marco fights off Tom using the wand by blasting every bit of whimsical spell Star does and some with his own while Star finally does The Whispering Spell and for the finale, we actually hear what all that whispering was! “Break the bond, tear the fabric, cleave the stone, stop the magic” again and again. And it works! HOLY SH*T IT ACTUALLY WORKS! I didn’t think her plan would work by doing that, but it’s true! It’s freakin’ true!

However, it still doesn’t work. I knew it, I mean, saying the Whispering Spell in The Realm of Magic to destroy all magic! Puh-leeze! It’s only for the wand! :P. Just then, Moon and Eclipsa w/ Meteora show up and decide to help. That’s the quickest moment of forgiving I’ve ever seen, after all what Moon did, Star just accepted her again! Marco finally stops Tom from killing him w/ the corrupted dark unicorn by feeding him pudding, but in the process, getting stabbed! Don! Don! Don! After Tom is cured, he and Marco head back to Star. 

Star, Moon, Eclipsa and Meteora Dip Down in their Mewberty forms (the fandom gets their wish on seeing Eclipsa do that) and are joined by the Past Queens of Mewni (starting from Skywynne not the 26 before her cuz that’s all the queens the book mentioned cuz the staff didn’t have enough time to come up with designs, personalities, history, etc for them and also Skywynnes mother, Lyric, didn’t save the original Magic Book of Spells :P) in spiritual form assisting them with destroying magic. They still don’t talk as they didn’t have time to that and cuz it’s the last episode and we’re about wrapping up here, so :P to that.

Mina finds The Realm of Magic and charges after Star, Moon, Eclipsa and Meteora, but gets distracted when she sees her queen, Solaria, and gets attacked by the dark corrupted unicorn. Mina calls out to her for help, but Solaria, the queen that created Mina, transformed her and thought of her as her answer to finishing off monsters, did nothing! Nada, ZIP! Sure she hated monsters, but did she hate monsters more than she loves her daughter!? Some things are just more important. 

After he was done with Mina, the dark unicorn goes after the queens, but Marco f**king flips the horse! DAMN! Well, he’s fought monsters, did a bunch of cool sh*t in the Neverzone, helped save Mewni twice and punched Toffee right through him! So yeah! He can flip a horse! 

Suddenly, the magic starts getting destroyed, the baby unicorns melt, the wand is no more and the realm prepares its destruction.

The Queens start disappearing with Moon seeing her mother, Comet, one last time, Solaria accepting of Eclipsas monster love and her hybrid granddaughter and most of all, Glossaryck goin’in bye bye. Farewell Glossaryck, you were pretty annoying, but kinda right. It was nice knowin’ ya. 

Star then tells Marco he needs to go up the waterfall to Earth, but doesn’t answer him on the bad news that they’ll never see each other again :’(. However, I think he figured it out from their tearful good-bye.

 Everyone comes out the well, but Star makes a big sacrifice and decides to go to Earth to be with Marco. Turns out, Marco stayed behind in the destruction of The Realm of Magic cuz he too thought, with or without magic, ღ they belong together! ღ STARCO FOREVER! 

With that, they hug for the very last time with their last bit of magic giving them their glowing cheek marks, unknown what will become of them during the destruction (possibly death) and then 💥BOOM!💥

The sanctuary is now gone along with the magic, well dimension traveling, (the narwhal blasting) and most of all, no more signature cheek marks on Star or anyone else who had ‘em on the show! And Star floats a drift on an alligator where Moon finds her riding on another alligator like a jet ski.

The new Solarian army falls apart and all the Monsters, like Buff Frog and his kids, are now finally safe from harm all thanks to Star. Destroying the magic actually did turn out to be the solution to fix everything (I personally didn’t think so cuz I would’ve preferred Star go with Eclipsa’s Total Annihilation Spell from the beginning) and Stars tapestry did predict the outcome of it:Magic gone, no more Glossaryck, Mina defeated, Monsters safe, Reconciled with Moon, Eclipsa and her family alive and well and the Monster Temple still standing, but still, no Starco 😢. However, Star was still happy all the monsters were okay, her family safe and even Eclipsa and her family safe.

With the magic gone, Mina Loveberry has been brought down to normal and unfortunately, still coo coo! Now, with the other villains in the show, most of ‘em got redeemed (Ludo, Tom and Meteora) and others died (Toffee), but our final “Forces of Evil”, Mina, who can no longer transform into her Hulk-like warrior self, still remains mentally ill (there’s no cure for that). Moon tries to talk some final sense into her and help her out with her diseased mind, but Mina refuses her help cuz despite the fact that she’s depowered, she runs off continuing her goal on eliminating monsters cuz it “lingers to her”. Well, she’s a lost cause and no one really gives a sh*t about her anymore (except maybe Manfred), so good-luck to ya ya psycho b*tch!

Moon apologizes to Star for working along side with Mina and making the biggest f*ck up in history, but Star easily forgives her since she (Star) always f*cks up too. I guess the apple doesn’t really fall far from the tree after all, huh!? Star says it’s cuz all families f*ck up (some more so than others), but that what they need to do is just live and learn from it all. So yeah, it’s true. Star heads back to the infirmary to check up on her friends and since the magics gone, those Solarian fatal wounds have already disappeared and everyones okay. Like Pony Head and Rich Pigeon! Star tells Pony Head that destroying the magic was the only solution there was to defeat Mina and save everyone, but despite the fact that she’s happy all is well and done, the tragedy of it is there’s no more Marco Ubaldo Diaz! NO MORE STARCO! IT DIDN’T LAST! 😭 He’s just back on Earth with Janna cuz that’s where they belong much like how Kelly went back to Woolandia and Talon at that Dragon Spit bar thing and that she can’t deal with Pony Heads sassy character trait stuff right now! 

Pony Head sees how heartbroken Star is and cheers her up by saying that Kelly is crying tears...........of joy! And happily goin’ on adventures with her “Battle Buddy” Jorby and that Talon is making up cool stories about his adventure to the bar taverns and it does in fact cheer Star up.

From the magic gone, we learn what became of the MHC and that they were reduced to just junk. Omnitraxus Prime is now a lifeless skull like the ones you see stereotypically in the desert, Rhombulus is now a lifeless crystal which was originally his head and his free will snake arms are now just regular old snakes and Idk what happened to Hekapoo, but I’m assuming since she was a demoness, she must’ve just turned to a poof of smoke or something. Omnitraxus was so close to be mature, but sadly he failed to realize what Hekapoo saw. Still disappointed in how Rhombulous turned out (sigh) oh so disappointed. Oh! And uh, Sean just overfilled himself on pizza. He was never important. Whatever. 

Just then, Tom shows up and he’s okay too! Pony Head didn’t mention that he was looking for Star after she decided to supposedly leave Mewni to live on Earth and I think it’s cuz she ships Starco now cuz we all know Tomstar failed not once, but twice! Hey! It’s the finale, so I’m tellin’ it like it so :P (third times not always the charm). Any way, Tom shows Star a portal that”s floating around in the distance and that it leads to Earth! (gasp)

Speaking of Earth, since the The Realm of Magic was located under Britta’s Tacos, and is now gone, the restaurant is too. Oh great! 😒 First we lose The Bounce Lounge, then Quest Buy and now the taco place! (as if it wasn’t bad enough we don’t have Starco!). The whole destruction to them was known as an “earthquake”. 

Marco is on a gurney, but he’s safe and healed now that the magics gone with that unicorn wound no longer there and his parents and baby sister are relived he’s okay. Sadly, much like Star, he's miserable without her. 

Janna rolls in on her gurney attached to a heart rate monitor and she cheers up Marco by saying even though he lost Star, they still have each other as friends. Despite the fact that she drove him nuts most of the time, he did in fact consider her a friend and vice versa. Janna then tells Marco about a portal from a distance that leads to Mewni! (gasp). Janna then tells Marco that he should run for it while she fakes her death in 60 seconds to distract everyone. DAMN! RUN! DIAZ! RUN!

So I’m guessing their last bit of magic together while embracing one last time was the result of that portal (no it’s not a “gas leak” from the “earthquake”), but how long is it gonna remain open!? Both our heroes run like Hell to see each again with a build up theme tune playing with Star punching her way through the Forest of Certain Death and Marco violating traffic laws cuz one thing is set on their minds, make Starco canon! 

Marco uses Jackies skateboard to head faster while Star turns down a friendly game of basketball with Ludo and Dennis. So nice that we saw more of the minor characters again. sk8er girl Jackie with her new French mate, Chloe, starter villain Ludo fully redeemed and happy, those two guys that Daron never wanted to exist, Alfonzo and Ferguson, fangirl Starfan13, mean girl Brittany (well finally! Where was she!? Still wish we saw Jeremy though even if he was a little sh*t, I’d still would've liked to have seen him) we even saw that creepy woman and her new dog, “Willoughby”! (”Fetch”). 

Okay enough about them, let’s get back to Starco! They’re getting closer!........

closer!.........

CLOSER! AND- 

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! 

WHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHY!? THIS CAN’T BE! YOU MEAN TO TELL ME I WAITED 4 YEARS, WATCHED 4 SEASONS AND WENT THROUGH 4 SHIPS (JARCO, OSTAR, TOMSTAR AND KELLCO) FOR NOTHING! Why does Daron hate us!? Huh, why!? This is it! THIS is how the story ends!? No Starco, no endgame, no HAPPILY EVER AFTER! NO NOTHING! WHAT’S IT GONNA TAKE TO MAKE STARCO HAPPEN!? WHEN DRAGONCYCLES FLY ACROSS THE EARTH SKY!?

Wait! Are those dragoncylces? Flying across the Earth sky!? Holy Sh*t! They are! 

And are those, mermaids!? Swimming in the aqueduct!? (was that a giant spider?).  

Is that Rich Pigeon getting chased up a tree by Earth dogs!? 

Did a helicopter just fly by the Cloud Kingdom over the Pony Head family!? 

Whoa! Whoa!.....WHOA! Are you telling me, that Earth and Mewni have merged into one whole dimension and that it’s now Earthni!? Was it that last bit of Starco magic from the embrace that caused that portal to open and explode to do this!? WOW! Now I get it! “Cleaved”! Good one there, good one! Okay, so it’s a little hectic what with the two worlds becoming one thing, but maybe with time, everyone will get used to it (shrugs).

So if the two worlds merged then that means.............................

STARCO AT LAST! The final unification! Better than the one from “Battle for Mewni”, not awkward like in “Lint Catcher” just pure unadulterated Starco and with their beautiful theme music playing once again to emphasize it. They meet, they smile, they walk towards each other and...............they say Hi. No big kiss or hug or even a silent stare, just plain old “Hey how ya doin’?”. It’s a little tame, but considering this is a children's show, it’s still sweet and more importantly, it was endgame ;). 

🎶 I wanna be your endgame,

I wanna be your first string,

I wanna be your A-Team,

I wanna be your endgame, endgame 🎶

Since Star Butterfly wasn’t there to do her closing inner monologue like how she did with her opening one in the pilot of the show, I’ll be doing it here. So the show ended with Starco like we all hoped for except with the unexpected twist that both their worlds, Earth and Mewni, collided together. Never in a millions years would we have thought this would happen! I’ve seen fan works of Starco either living together on Earth or living as royals in Mewni with their “Starco child(ren)”, but the fact that we got a best of both worlds finale was a huge surprise! Now the happy couple can still be with their families and friends and even have Meteora and Mariposa grow up together like they promised they would. If you ask me, this sounds more like a new beginning, like how are the Humans and Mewmens gonna adapt to their new surroundings and interactions among each other like it’s the start of a whole new season! But I guess that was left to the fans to use their imagination on how that’ll go cuz so many people already had left the show to pursue other things and that they needed to wrap it up quickly. However, we’re still left with some unanswered questions such as why we didn’t see the Septarian, Seth, and how he was the head honcho of the Septarian army cuz he was a big deal in The Magic Book of Spells and since that book was foreshadowing everything in the final season, I assumed we might’ve gotten a look at him and maybe have him make an appearance since it was last said he disappeared, but I guess like in the book, he’s history. Second, there’s Toffee, from the very beginning he wanted the magic destroyed such as having Star use The Whispering Spell in the Season 1 finale and then corrupting it in the tv movie and it wasn’t until near the end where Star realized he was right to do so after all the chaos that’s been goin’ on. Granted it wasn’t for the same reasons she wanted, but overall just doing away with it to not give anyone an advantage to use against someone. I actually thought (like some fans) that he’d come back again, cuz he was mentioned a lot and it was hinted in the final seasons episode premiere about the use of magic and that he might’ve, but after two seasons and a movie, I suppose it was enough and at least he got a cameo in one. Still, his actions were a big concern for Star. Thirdly, the rebel princesses, last we saw, Meteora blew up the whole school after finding out about her true background and we never saw what became of ‘em. Hopefully, they’re fine like Pony Head is and that our minds shouldn’t go into a dark place thinking about that. Speaking of darkness, monster arm, he looked to be hinted at coming back after his defeat, but instead he was just left as a scare gag and irrelevance to the plot. Lastly, the same goes for that mysterious sun/moon/star room in St.Olga’s. It looked to be a big plot point to bring up in a later episode, but alas, we got nothing out of it! We suspected it had something to do with The Blood Moon, but even that was all for nothing! Never did we find out what that room was supposed to mean and I guess it was never meant to have been pointed out in-universe cuz that was for us fans to see it as an up and coming big Starco moment like how the Blood Moon was never magic and that it was just a gimmick with the whole “soul binding” thing to spice up it’s appeal. The finale was good. Could’ve done it as an hour long special or tv movie to close it off, but since Daron and the staff kept goin’ through so many changes in episode plots (and believe me, I’ve seen plenty of “what-could’ve-been” plots like the original idea for the show with Star younger and non-magical annoying everyone around her with her big imagination of her being a magical girl princess), I kinda think maybe they rushed into it, but even so, it was a nice finale and it left a good memory for me. I found some nice people through this fandom and just to name a few there was that ever popular head cannon blog, @svtfoeheadcanons which than went onto @seddm. Thank you for your words and blog and answering some of my questions (even though it was kinda anon, but I think you might’ve recognized me from my writings) you are brilliant, @moringmark, your comics of the Starco/Jarco child clashing story were fun as well as your Starco Child Headquarters comic and I am now enjoying your “F.R.I.E.N.D.S” parody of the Past Queens of Mewni and also the Meteora and Mariposa comic, thank you for your comics, I always check on and comment on ‘em and last, but certainly not least, my good svtfoe friend, @agentpfangirl1997. Hey girl! I love how I found her and we chatted about what we thought about the show and checking each others reviews and fan arts of it. Her drawings are awesome! Glad I got to know such a great person. Even with the show, we still keep it alive through our love for it and will treasure it for years to come. Thank you, Daron Nefcy! @daronnefcy 

[princessvicky01]

Imposition

Part 8 of Annabel X Cullen epilogue story ‘Happily ever after’ following them after the events of trespasser.  

Click for: Whole story on AO3 or Part 1  Part 2  Part 3 Part 4  Part 5  Part 6  Part 7

Summary: Cullen and Annabel finally make it to visit his family who've moved back to Honnelth. Full of warm fuzzy tooth-rotting family fluff and then there is smut of course. NSFW - Pregnancy sex

------

Imposition

“Mama! Mama! The imposition is here! Mama! Come see!”

The little girl’s jubilant cheer draws a bark from the mabari by Annabel’s side who bounces to stick his head out the window. Prince seems to favour the wind against his slobbery chops, and all but leans out the carriage with his stump wagging furiously as they pull to a stop. Annabel must admit she’s grateful too, the chance of a few weeks rest in a real bed has been calling to her in the way it always did after a long journey.

When the door opens the hound all but falls out, making the cabin lurch and sending her sprawling, thankfully, Cullen, is quick as always to lend a steady hand and catch her as she stumbles.

Hmm. The title ‘Imposition’ may have been correct after all. Honnelth isn’t so much a village as a small hamlet of stone farm cottages, and their arrival must have all but doubled the population of the place. The announcement had clearly reached every household, and a crowd had gathered to greet them with hushed murmurings. Annabel can’t help but be suspicious of the sideways looks that are traded, being judged was never a pleasant experience, even though it is one she’s used to. Years at playing the game allowed her to see past the whispers and find that most of the folk seemed merely curious and nod in welcome if her gaze lingers on them long. That wasn’t usually the vibe she got from crowds like this but in a way its what she should have expected, they were welcoming back a successful one of their own.

A tiny spark of paranoia about her hand crackles with the green gemstone, and she curls her prosthetic fingers to hide the faint glow. She wants to be seen for her and not as the Herald of Andraste, although that seems impossible nowadays, the two have largely become one and the same, forever interwoven, in the public’s eyes.

Glancing to Cullen, she notes how his eyebrows have drawn in, searching the scores of people with scrutiny, evidently seeking someone who isn’t there based on the way his eyes continue to narrow. She gives his hand a reassuring squeeze, whatever judgement she’s feeling must be tenfold for him, and she doesn’t envy him in the slightest. Excitement buzzes along with the nerves, and she bumps her hip against his in the hope of transferring some of that positive fizz over.

Her action has little to no effect, and she notes his focus is glued to a slow emerging path. It’s being cut through the mass by the forceful march of a tall and broad-shouldered woman. Her wavy golden hair is tied up in a loose bun, and strands of flaxen locks wisp in the breeze as she pushes her way through. The steely determination in her copper-rich eyes confirm what Annabel had already guessed; this must be Mia.

“Cullen Stanton Rutherford,” the lady remarks, one hand on her hip and a light smirk gracing her features. “And just what brings the Commander of the Inquisition’s mighty forces all the way out here?” 

Before he can answer a squeal from behind her sounds, and another shorter, plumper, blonde woman with a babe in arms pokes her head around. Unlike her big sister, Rosalie rushes straight over to him, with another young child in tow, and both proceed to hug him tightly.

Cullen can’t help but be overwhelmed at the turnout, at the way Mai somehow looks just how he remembered, despite the years, and how Rosalie clutches him like she had when they were small. Could it be they had really missed him? Even after all his failings? He’d lost count of the ways he’d let them down. From the blight, losing mother and father, the upheaval of the move, the poverty it had brought them, right up to the way they had rebuilt their lives piece by piece. All without him. All while he had been too consumed by his own Templar duties, his own dark obsessive mission to control mages in a way that would make his siblings skin crawl.

Their smiles though, welcome him in a way that only loved ones could and tentative warmth begins to creep through his chest. He might not deserve their love or such a heartfelt welcome, but Maker only knows he needed it. He hugs them back, his hand falling on his nephew's shoulder and squeezing. He’d been so foolish to stay away so long, too insecure of his worth he’d gladly let himself be blinded by his work, that he knows now had been a terrible mistake. Emotion wells in the back of his throat, and he has to pull away from their embrace or risk tears spilling out of him.

Cullen spies Branson approaching by Mai’s side and can’t believe just how much of a man his little brother has become, tall but lean with muscle, scars peppering his arms, and one across his cheek all combining to tell the tale of a hard life. He also can’t help but notice that while Mia and Rosalie's husbands hover on the sidelines, Branson’s wife is notably absent. Mia had let him know that she’d died shortly after giving birth to a little boy and guilt begins to ebb into the corners of Cullen’s mind. It’s just another example of a time when his family had needed him, and he hadn’t been there. Annabel’s burst of laughter, however, pulls him back from the dark tendrils of his thoughts before he can become consumed them. Glancing down finds that the source is the great big hug their nephew, Bran, is giving her waist.

Looking to the beaming smiles all around him and down then down at young Bran, Cullen can’t help but crack his own. Branson had muscled in to claim a spot and extends his hand for a hearty shake.

“It’s been far too long,” Mia murmurs, squeezing his arm, there's no chastity to it, just the tell-tale ache of old longing. Surrounded now by family, Cullen knows she’s right, and an apology begins to stutter from his lips, but she promptly shakes her head.

“There’s no need, it’s just good to see you,” Mia’s smile is soft, and she locks eyes with him. She’d always had a way of getting her point across, and it seems nothing had changed in that regard. She clearly would hear no apology, not now at least, so he refrains from trying to give one.

“And you must be Annabel!” Rosalie lights up as she turns to her.

Little Bran swivels his focus up at his new aunt. “The Herald? The warrior with the magic hand? Can I see?”

Instinct pulls Annabel's prosthetic hand away, hiding it slightly behind her back, a kindling of shame still marring her once open nature. This, however, is her nephew, and his gaze is nothing but brightly curious. Holding her palm out to him, she can almost feel the old crackle the mark would've made as her nerves tingle, but the stone merely pulses lightly.

“Wow! Papa, did you see!?” Tugging her hand Bran lifts it high over his head to show his father with all the grace of a clumsy four-year-old, and big dark eyes the sparkle in the green hue.

“Hmm, yes it’s very interesting, but that’s no way to treat a Lady is it? Especially not your new aunty,” Branson raises a brow, and his son instantly drops her hand.

“Oops, sorry!” The boy is scooped up by his father, and the baby in Rosalie's arms snuffles a cry at the commotion, or perhaps merely demanding some of the attention for herself.

“And here is little Julie, your niece,” Rosalie presents the baby to Annabel, and for a moment she stares blankly at the child. Annabel isn’t sure how she should hold her or that being handed to a stranger will improve the little one’s mood. Scrunching her face, the baby begins to muffle a sob, but Rosalie's press into Annabel’s arms is insistent. “Go on! You’ll have your own soon enough, oh, I can’t wait, another cousin for Julie!”

More than a little overwhelmed Annabel takes the baby and does her best to support her. She’d never been overly interested in babies, unlike many young noble ladies who might coo around a new arrival in frilly lace she was more likely to pull silly faces at them until they'd either laughed or cried. The same went for how she’d treated babies most of her life. She’d never even had a doll. She’d been gifted many as a child, ones in elaborate satin dresses with beautiful curls of hair and hand-painted smiles. They’d mostly sat on shelves gathering dust as she charged around with her brother and their wooden swords causing the kind of chaos such pristine dolls would no doubt roll their eyes at. That thought had always unnerved her slightly.

Despite whatever reservations Annabel might have, she finds a natural smile is drawn out of her at the sight of Julie. She must admit, she is awfully cute, with a tiny nose, flushed round cheeks and a faint dusting of blonde curls. Somehow, she even smells new, if such a thing was possible, and her tiny grunts, complimented by scrunched fists make Annabel’s chest start to glow. Sensing Cullen’s looming presence she looks up and finds him staring at the bundle with a soft lopsided smile that spoke of a besotted father to be. She can’t help but wonder if their child will have a mop of curls, it seems to be a Rutherford trait and one that Annabel hopes continues.

“Right, come on, let’s get you all inside. I imagine you could do with a cup of tea, maybe one of those cakes Rosalie made, come on now.” Mia ushers them like a mother goose, guiding the swollen family as one, after little Bran who rushes ahead with the dog to one of the stone buildings jutting around them.

Entering the cottage Cullen can’t help but find it much smaller than he remembered, quaint even. It’s no wonder really, he’d been but a child the last time he’d been in here and had since lived in circles, temples and Skyhold. Somehow the low beams and thick walls just make the space feel homelier, more lived in, loved. Dry and fresh herbs hang from the kitchen’s beams, along with copper pots all of which direct the gaze to the oak dining table set out with tea, crumpets and small buttercream cakes. The assorted goodies are all surrounding a painted vase filled with idyllic purple meadow flowers, ones which Cullen vaguely recalls were mother’s favourites. It does seem his sister has thought of everything, as always.

A thousand ancient, long lost memories, flutter to the surface. The strongest are drawn out by the smell of stew in the oven which reminds him of long chilly days, of laughter around a crowded table, of his mother, perched on his father’s hip, tea towel in hand which she used to wipe at his dirt-crusted hands. He struggles to recall her voice now, but the way her smile had always beamed with warmth had never left him. Tears begin to well in the corner of his eyes, but they’re quickly pushed aside as a child’s voice captures his attention.

“Uncle Cul, look,” with an instant shove, a folded travelling chess board that had long since seen better days, is placed in his hands. His fingers trail over the names etched into the side, his own, crudely scratched along with his sibling’s, and now with Bran’s. “Mia said you was good but not as good as me,” the boy gives an impish grin, cheeks flushed red with excitement. “Can we play?”

“After tea, now go, sit down,” Mia has already swooped in and is leading the boy to a stool set out just for him, leaving Cullen holding a piece of his childhood which, although battered and scarred, was still very much loved. He sure there is a metaphor in that somehow.

The others shuffle in, Mia pouring tea and Bran takes hold of his niece and begins to pull silly faces. When hands wrap around his waist, Cullen doesn’t need to look around to know who they belong too. He can feel her breath prickle the back of his neck, and soon her nose follows to nuzzle under his ear in the kind of open affection he’d come to love from her. “Happy?” it’s a light word, whispered against his skin where Annabel’s lips pepper reassuring kisses.

Overcome, Cullen merely nods, turning so their eyes can meet. The dazzling blue of hers finally brings out the joyful smile which had been wanting out him from the moment he’d arrived. This is home. She is home. His lips find hers to share a tender kiss, one which is cut all too short thanks to the disgusted ‘ewwww’ that sounds from their nephew at the table.

“You've done well for yourself, Cullen,” Mia’s voice is deliberately soft as she emerges to lean against the door frame, tea towel over one shoulder and hair now slightly frazzled from steam. He glances up to her with a little nod, catching how that frazzled appearance went much further than skin deep. “I was worried… Well, I was worried for the longest time after what happened at Kinloch, then you moving to Kirkwall… but I can see, I don't need to worry anymore.”

“Mia...” his head lowers, shoulders slumping under the weight of years of guilt and failure. “I... I’m sorry, I didn’t, I -"

“That's enough, I won't have you apologising to me, you've done nothing wrong,” she taps him on the head with the spotted rag in mock sternness. “You helped save Thedas, helped hundreds of people, just like you said you would, just like I knew you would.” Her eyes and smile match in the depth of their warmth before she quickly nods out to the field. “You also somehow found yourself a most radiant wife… You should be proud.”

Cullen can sense the depth of emotion that wells within her eyes, and which lies hidden behind her cheery tone. To avoid more awkward apologies, and poor explanations he instead follows her line of sight to see Annabel playing sword with young Bran. Their brother is shouting advice from the sidelines while Prince bounds around in giddy excitement, do nothing to help the child’s concentration. That was an important part of battle though, learning to focus on the target when chaos ran riot around you, he smiles faintly to himself, he is not playing the role of Commander right now, but still, it seems he can’t help but judge their swings.

The cracks of their wooden practice blades can be heard clear across the field, as can the chortle of laughter and baying of the hound. Exact words are lost to the wind, but Cullen can see all are smiling from ear to ear. When his wife pauses to brush damp hair from her face, their eyes catch briefly despite the distance. He wasn't sure it was possible, but her smile appears to grow even wider as it greets him.

Sensing his chance, Bran rushes at her and Cullen can see it all unfold in slow motion horror before his eyes. The boy’s feet pound against the grass, sword held high above his head, his full force blow aimed right at her stomach. Muscles clenching, Cullen’s breath catches in his throat as panic rushes up, he goes to cry out, already halfway to his feet, but it all happens too fast, and he can’t find the words beyond a strangled anguished cry.

Annabel apparently spies his concern, and with a dart to the side, she rolls to avoid the strike which sails clear over her.

Thank the Maker… Cullen still clutches the bench tight under his fingernails, his breath sharp and erratic. Sometimes he still forgets that his bright and beautiful wife was not a defenceless lady, and she never had been. Pregnancy tummy or not, she wasn’t about to change into someone who froze or cowered at a blow. She’d been training since Bran’s age, and it shows in the way she swoops around to scoop the child up in her arms.

A gentle hand on his shoulder brings Cullen from his poised position and inches him back down onto the bench. All is well. In fact, Annabel is ruffling Bran’s curls in mock retribution, her bright, playful smile apparently dazzling the boy into a fit of giggling.

“She'll be a brilliant mother.” Mia’s voice cuts through the serene moment to bring Cullen back to her and one of near equal serenity. Sat on a bench made by their father, at the edge of a field which backed onto his family's homestead, enjoying life’s simple pleasures in the dappled shade of a tree he’d frequently climbed in his youth. The problems of the past two years, of the past decade, somehow seeming to fade into a haze in the freshness of the breeze.

“I know,” it's a murmur, a solemn affirmation made as his eyes never leave Annabel. She's already moved on to squaring up with his brother while Bran chases Prince, who has somehow got hold of his sword and is happy as can be with his new, highly prized, stick.

“I've never met anyone quite like her…” he trails off, his voice distant and awestruck. He still can’t believe his luck, that he’d found her, that she’d returned time after time to him, that she loved him, that she loved their baby…

“I imagine she thinks the same of you, or else she wouldn't have joined this shambles of a clan,” his sister nudges him playfully with her elbow. “Who would’ve thought, my shy little brother, stumbling over his words, able to woo himself a real noble Lady. Just to bring her home, and play with sticks in the dirt like a real Rutherford.”

Cullen chuckles, the sound made all the richer by witnessing his wife giving Branson a good thrashing from the moment they square off. He wouldn’t have believed it either if someone had told him back in Kirkwall this would be his future, he would have called them mad, heck, he probably would have called them possessed. The mere notion that he could marry a woman like her, could find happiness in the light she shone into his darkest places, well it was as alien as a fish on land.

“Why don't you join them? It looks like Branson could use your help,” Mia’s voice is light with laughter as Annabel shows that she's still very much the warrior she always had been.

Cullen shakes his head all too swiftly with the huff of another chuckle. “I've lost more than enough times to that woman. I'll never hear the end of it.”

“Ah, yes, well you always was the more sensible out of the pair of you,” Mia pauses and winces as Branson takes a strike which will no doubt leave a nice bruise on his arm. “Radiant... and dangerous, your wife.”

Casting her a sideways smirk Cullen all but brims over with pride. “Very much so.”

Annabel isn’t very good at washing dishes and despite everyone's instance that there was no need for her to help she’s determined to be useful, although she’s quickly handed to drying duty as a rather weary Branson washes. Sat at the oak table Cullen studies her, he’d tried, much in vain to help, but she’d pushed him back into his chair and said something about him needing a break.

While faint orange rays catch the bronze in her hair, he can’t help but think Mia’s description of her was spot on. She is truly radiant… and dangerous. There is a glow about her skin in the soft lighting and when she deliberately pokes at a sore spot on Branson’s arm for being too slow the later part of the description comes into play to make him chuckle.

Sipping at his warm tea he soaks in the serenity of the moment, his hound is asleep, snoring under the table, his family are chattering next door, and his pregnant wife is stubbornly trying to place glasses on a shelf that’s far too tall for her.

His brother steps in, and when done dips out with a nod to him and warm if not tired smile. Annabel is soon back at his side, arm wrapped over his shoulders as she perches against him in their first moment alone since arriving.

“How you feeling?” she asks, head leaning to one side to rest against his, instinct draws his arm around her waist to hug her close.

“It’s been a long day… but I’m glad we came.”

“So, in other words, still happy,” she jests, nudging and nuzzling her nose in his curls until he breaks out a smile.

“I’ve never been happier,” he gives her a little squeeze, the familiar scent and feel of her soothing his weariness away.

“Good,” slipping from his lap she tugs on his hand. “In that case, you can bring those bedroom eyes of you’ve been making at me all evening, to a more, private, setting,” her own eyes sparkle as a little inviting smirk dances over her lips.

The distance she’s put between them is too much, and Cullen finds himself stood up to wrap his arms around her once more. “A tempting offer, Mrs Rutherford, but I hardly want the whole household to know just how thoroughly you enjoy your husbands, intimate, company…”

Annabel gives a smile that on anyone else would be coy, but on her is always edged with mischief, her hand coming up to play with the curl that’s fallen loose over his forehead. “Don’t worry. I’m nothing if not discreet.”

“Oh, really?” Not believing it for a second, Cullen lifts one brow and studies how her eyes grow steadily darker in the fading light. With a chuckle she pulls away, hand clasped in his to drag him along, he gets a few steps, his body acting by will of its own before he pulls up short.

“Annabel… we shouldn’t…” It’s not that he doesn’t want to, Maker’s breath, he’s never wanted her more, but his eyes are drawn to the small but distinct swell of her stomach.

“Why... “ she trails off, her brow lightly furrowing as she lets go to regard him with suspicion. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing's wrong.”

“Don’t lie to me,” her eyes narrow to let him know she won’t tolerate his attempted cover-up. “You’ve not wanted to… you know… Well, I’ve never exactly had to force you into anything before, but ever since Ostwick you’ve been, off, with me. I can’t say I like it very much.”

“Annabel, I’m sorry,” his hand reaches out, but she takes a half step out of reach.

“Then tell me what's wrong,” she repeats, her heels clearly dug in and unwilling to budge. Knowing he can’t convince her otherwise Cullen sighs then gestures to her tummy.

“You mean because I’ve got fat!” Annabel’s eyebrows shoot up incredulously.

“Maker’s breath! What?! I… I, no, no, not all, that’s not what… What I meant was-”

“Everything ok in there?” Mia’s voice echoes down the stone corridor, and he has to step in quickly before Annabel has the chance to dig him an even bigger hole.

“We’re fine, thank you,” he hollers with a distinct old air of authority. Annabel stiffens and gives a little growl, but accepts his embrace and the way he presses his palm over the curve of her navel. “You know you're beautiful… radiant, even,” he murmurs, rubbing her tummy. “It's just... I don’t want to... you know…” he trails off, losing the words to the heat tickling up his neck and fraying his thoughts. “Hurt you. Either of you,” he nods downwards, and the penny seems to finally drop.

The harshness she’d embodied moments ago melts away, like the bristles of a hissing cat that turns to warm fluff under a soothing caress. “Oh, Cullen,” she murmurs, snuggling her body closer and wrapping her arms up around his neck until she’s gazing up at him from under long, thick lashes. “You do know that's impossible, right?”

“I know…” he sighs, eyes darting away, but the blush remaining. He had asked the midwife and the medic a thousand questions back in Ostwick, they’d been patient at first and indulged him, but he’d had to let his wife ask about lovemaking when he’d repeatedly failed to get the words out. “But… How can anyone be certain? I… I couldn’t bear it if I…” he trails off, the thought is too distressing to even put into coherent words. Her thumb comes up to brush his cheek and travels along the stubble of his jaw, a tender touch that speaks of nothing but care.

“We don’t have to do anything. But I promise you won’t hurt us, either of us… we can always go slow and gentle…” her lips brush over his now, the words and action a mirror of her suggestion. “See how we go… besides,” another brush of his cheek, her pitch lowering, darkening. “We both seem to be very good with our mouths,” her lips press against his, and he can’t resist the taste of her. The sound of her voice is honey sweet, with a rasp of lust that never fails to allure him, and the taste is like heaven itself.

Magnificent woman… who once again astounds him. A distinct pulse of arousal twitches him to life. It seems she approves as she hums against into the kiss, a delightful noise that only seems to deepen the pooling desire growing between them.

“I suppose I could try,” he murmurs, the hint of a smirk on his lips as they part.

“Well, only if it’s not too much of an imposition,” she drawls, fingertips plucking loosely at his collar. A loud squeak erupts from her as he squeezes both her ample cheeks in his broad palms. At the noise, the murmur from the front room grows quiet, and both know they’ve been heard. “This way,” with a conspiratorial whisper and a tug she’s already leading him out the back door.

“You Mrs Rutherford, are one very naughty woman,” he rumbles, holding her small hand in his, eyes transfixed on the sway of her hips as she leads him very much astray.

“So I’ve been told,” Annabel’s voice is now a purr radiating warmly through her chest as she treads carefully across the yard towards the carriage. Stepping up she tosses brunette locks over her shoulder before casting her wicked gaze at him. “But the question is, just how naughty?” Her smirk is the kind which would have made him blush in his teenage years and the kind which now only seeps a deviant look through his eyes.

Stepping in he finds the space is cramped, lit by one dim lantern, and the seating is still awash with silk cushions. For the most part, he can’t even stand up straight, but that doesn't matter… it seems his wife was resourceful after all, its private, secluded, and all too cosy. “Very,” he rumbles, the sound resounding in the small space to make her giggle, a sultry sound which is swiftly masked by the lock of the door.

His hands are all over her all at once, and Annabel can’t help but mould herself around him. Leg hitching as she stumbles in the tight space and falls to land with a chuckle against the cushions. Brushing hair from her face, Annabel looks up just in time to catch Cullen’s wolfish lopsided smirk. She narrows her eyes playfully, her foot rubbing against his leg as he looked down at her with all the predatory hunger of the lion she’d married.

Slipping to his knees, he pinches at her dress, then slowly inches it up over her thighs, his amber rich eyes firmly locked on hers as he takes his sweet time. Soon her leggings are being slowly peeled away to prise her thighs open before him, and a flood of want drowns her. Damn perfect man... kissing his way up her inner thigh tickles and excites, the scrape of his stubble over every damp patch of skin he leaves sends tiny pulses of pleasure up to her core.

“Naughty man…” she pants, her fingers finding those luscious golden curls and scritching against his scalp. Suddenly one of his hands has her splayed open, on full and glistening display, distinctly delicious enough to make him hungrily rumble. The sound shudders pleasure through the aching heat in her core. It’s been far too long since she’s had his undivided, his earnest and, oh so, sinful attention, far far too long.

“Very,” his rich baritone and the breath of air against wet folds is enough to make her gasp. Anticipation fires through every nerve to set her heart thundering, a pant tumbles from her, wanton and desperate. He answers with the flat of his tongue, and one long, languid lick, up her centre. A shock of pleasure pulls her muscles tight, the fingers in his hair now kneading, urging him to deliver more. And like the Maker sent man he is, he willingly obliges.

Dipping in, Cullen kisses at her entrance, dancing his tongue over the sweet bud that wants his utter devotion. Instinct rocks her hips as he takes his time paying every intimate inch of her his uppermost attention. His nose nuzzles against her, his fingers dig in a little tighter as he forces his tongue a little deeper, and when he sucks, pleasure throbs through to snatch the air from her lungs. Laying back she moans her most wholehearted approval. She could carry on like this forever, letting him explore, letting him devote himself to her and worship her in a way like no other had, always hungry for more.

Despite all this though, she still craves far more than his mouth. As glorious as it is, it doesn’t stretch her, doesn’t fill her, doesn’t pound her in the way she desperately desires. A tug on his scalp sees Cullen’s copper tinted eyes peer up from under his brow, jaw still very firmly nestled between her thighs.

“Please,” Annabel begs and writhes under him. It’s too damn hot in this tiny space, and she grapples with her dress while her mind swims in a heady concoction of pleasure and lust. She struggles, huffing as her hair tangles and soon he’s there, pulling the garment free to leave her in nothing but a breast band that is busting at the seams.

Cullen growls on sight of her, lurching forward to nestle his face, his raw kisses between the ample swell of her bosoms. Clawing up his side she welcomes him, thighs hitching over his body to find and rub his concealed erection against where she wants it the most. Bless him, he’s careful to place no weight on her, the brunt of his force bared by powerful arms that have her firmly trapped between him and cushions.

The ping her bra as it snaps free makes a giddy laugh spill from her. Within moments Cullen's nuzzling his way over each curve to land a hungry kiss against her nipples. The pulse of pleasure mingled with a tingle of pain makes her moan, half certain she’ll be sore tomorrow but not rightly caring as he hums and with his mouth full.

“Hmmm,” he pulls back slightly letting her pert bud pop from between his lips. “I shall be sorry to share these…” he murmurs, licking one cheekily before she can truly reply.

Deliciously wicked man. A deft tug of her hand’s spills open his trousers and tugs them down over his hips. “You shall be sorry to share me and my time, full stop,” she squeezes his peachy rear, hard, dragging him up against her by his toned arse until his lips all but crash into hers.

She’s not wrong, but the fact that it will be their baby taking up her time, her energy, well, he could hardly hold a grudge. She tastes all the sweeter for the nectar still on his lips, and Cullen can already feel her hand slipping over his navel. His kiss breaks into a pant as she pumps down the length of him to send a shot of blinding pleasure and throbbing need through him.

It’s been far too long… Rumbling he pulls her flush against him, dragging his stubble along her jaw until his lips reach her ear to whisper hotly. “But for now, your all mine, Mrs Rutherford,” with that, his hands are on her hips, already helping to twist her round underneath him. He won’t take any chances, so he guides her up onto the cushions and on her knees. Running his fingers down her spine makes her buck like the temptress of a woman she is, sticking out the delicious, ample curves of her rear so he can nestle himself between her cheeks. He gives one a little tap, to hear her squeal and have her arse bounce around his cock and deliver a pulse of pleasure to all his senses.

With a slowly guided thrust he enters her, her heat hugs around him, wet and wanton, and, oh so, glorious. A curse slips from his lips as she moans and embraces all of him. Perfect woman, carrying his perfect child... Worry still niggles the corner of his mind. Despite the desire pounding through his veins with every hammer of his heart, he pulls out slightly, one of his hands slipping around her hips to brush tenderly over her stomach. “If you want me to stop-”

“Don’t you dare,” with a sharp pant, she sinks herself over him to drag loud broken moans from them both. And with that, he’s lost to her, in her, with her, together as they should be, both building pleasure until there’s nothing else.

Maker, she can barely breathe, the heat of pleasure as he stretches her, as he begins a slow and dutiful rhythm is overwhelming. It’s not the wild rutting they so often were debased too, this is something much more tender, but his thrusts are no less deep, no less satisfying. If anything, the controlled slap of his hips against her arse only serves to drag the pleasure out. Legs spreading Annabel can’t help but seek more, always seeking more, chasing the edge over which she’ll tumble, wanting all of him and nothing else. Cullen’s panted breath is hot against the damp of her back, he’s grunts confirming he’s as consumed by her as she is by him. Together they rock, back and forth, his pace growing faster as her panted moans grow louder. The steamy air fills with the mixed scent of them, musk and sweat and sex and it's downright intoxicating.

One of his hands sneaks around, calloused and firm, they knead against the bounce of her breast. Her hands press firmly against the wall, seeking purchase, something to ground her as pleasure slams through with every snap of hips.

Lightly pinching her nipple leaves sends a sharp wave of shock, pleasure and pain shooting through her until she’s left crying out his name while his cock sheaths deep inside her. Annabel’s nails claw at the wooden backboard as her cry breaks loudly from her, bliss buzzing through on the euphoric high that only he could bring. His pace falters as she shudders around him, a few sharp snaps, more brutal and carnal than the rest and it’s all too much. Another sinful moan resounds from her chest as pure pleasure blinds her. His groan meanwhile is decadently rich against her back, making a wave of molten pleasure tingle through every nerve as he comes in hot, heavy, spurts inside her.

Panting hard, Annabel comes too to find her face pressed against the carriage wall, nails still digging crescent moons into the wood's surface as she feels Cullen slide from her. The whole room rocks slightly as he collapses beside her and she wonders briefly if it had been shaking the entire time… So much for discreet. She smiles cheekily to herself, humming and nuzzling against her arm as the scorching pleasure inside fizzles down into a warm sedated glow.

Fingers lightly brush against her hip and softly her eyes open, blinking hazily in their bliss-soaked state they regard him lovingly.

“Your… I didn’t… Did I-?” Concern distorts his features as he pants the words out all too quickly.

“I’m fine… in fact… I’ve never been happier,” she mumbles, sinking to rest on her heels, head still leant against the wall, hair wildly splayed over to one side. Annabel knows a moment later she’s wrong, as Cullen smiles and rests his head back, eyes closing, chest still heaving, but his every scalped muscle relaxed… seeing him like this, that is what makes her happiest of all.

Shifting she curls herself against his side, his arms opening to loosely welcome her close, his hand finding her stomach where his fingertips lightly trace idol patterns over her skin.

“Me neither,” he replies, nestling a kiss against her forehead, his fingers continuing to devote his contented glow to her, and their baby.

---

Thank you for reading <3 Apologies it took so long to get this part done, but if you liked it likes, reblogs and comments are all gratefully recieved!

[classic-rock-roller]

1. You and Tom and Kevin are joining Bonham in the Game Grumps studio for filming of the 10 minute power hour. They have the schedule set so that you each are guests individually except Tom because he doesn’t like it. You all watch the recording when each other is serving as a guest, and when it’s Bonham’s turn they are doing each other’s makeup. At one point she is working on Danny and says, “Your fucking hair is in the way, hang on.” She holds his hair back like a headband, and sits on his lap to get a better view. None of them are making a big deal out of it, but Kevin is visibly fuming in the seat next to you. He says to you, “Can I please tell her to get off of him? I don’t like how this looks.” Arin says to him past the camera, “Dude she’s putting children’s makeup on him for a shitty YouTube show, you can’t honestly be jealous right now.” How does Kevin respond, and what do you, Tom, Danny and Bonham say?

Kevin: Of course I am. Have you seen how beautiful his hair is?!

Danny: Why thank you, Kevin. I use coconut oil and special shampoo.

He flips his hair which messes up Bons. 

Bons: Knock it off, Danny. I gotta do this. 

Tom: (under his breath) This is so stupid. 

I pat his thigh. 

Me: Just let us enjoy the stupidity, Tommy. 

2. You and Bonham and Tom and Nikki are standing offstage at a Quiet Riot show, and you’re all loving it. At one point Nikki says to Bonham, “I dare you to go out there right now.” “What no, are you insane? I’m not interrupting a show.” Tom looks at you and says, “Watch this.” then turns to Bonham, pushes her out onto the stage and says, “Yes you are!” She stumbles out onstage and instinctively freezes. Kevin is jumping around and sees her, and he shouts into the mic, “There she is! Look at my girlfriend! Kiss me you scandalous bitch!” What happens and what do you, Tom, and Nikki say?

She is still frozen. I go out and go to pull her back in and Kevin goes, “Look! My best gal pal too. Hey Tom! Get out here! Kiss your girlfriend!” Nikki Pushes Tom out and we’re all kind of standing there. I peck Tom on the lips and then pull Bons backstage again. Kevin screams, “Ladies and Gentlemen, my wonderful girlfriend and Mr. and Mrs. Keifer.” I glare at Tom after we get backstage again and go, “You’re a fucking asshole” before taking Bons to a chair so she can calm down because it looks like she’s going to faint. 

Tom(following after me): come on, honey! You know I meant nothing by it. 

Nikki has been cackling since Tom pushed Bons onstage.  

3. You’re returning from a hot date with your college boyfriend when you see Bonham scurrying back to your dorm with a trash bag full of instant coffee packets, but they’re all empty. You ask what she’s doing and she says, “All will be revealed in due time.” Later that night, there’s an angry knock on your door. Bonham answers calmly and says, “Hey Vince, what’s up?” He pushes her squarely in the chest, and she topples over. He stands over top of her and says, “Don't play dumb with me you fucking bitch! What did you do to my room?” She says, “You mean why are there nine hundred instant coffee packets spilled in everything you own? It can’t possibly be because you stole all my underwear, so in that case I’m stumped.” Her sarcasm is just pissing him off. How do you react to hearing what she did, and what does Vince say about the situation? What does his roommate Tommy say when he gets back?

I’m giggling and Vince glares at me. “You know I could just tell the RA your boyfriend is in your room when he shouldn’t be.” He glares at Bons, “You’re helping me clean it up.” Tommy thinks it’s funny because none of his stuff was touched. 

4. AVERT YOUR EYES KIDDOS AND STAFF YA FUCKIN SQUARES

You’re sitting with Tom on your couch one day and after a while you both get bored so you start kissing. Things are getting pretty intense, and finally Tom tells you, “Touch yourself.” “What?” you say. “Don’t play coy. Touch yourself. I want to watch.” How do you respond, and what does Tom do?

Me: Uhh, no way. You know I don’t even normally do that when you’re not here and you know it makes me uncomfortable. 

He pulls me in for a kiss.

Tom: Then I guess both of us’ll have fun instead. 

5. You’ve been with Tom for a couple of months now, and Bonham’s been helping Kevin out. He’s been out of rehab for a couple of weeks, and the four of you are hanging out for the first time. It’s been a tough week and you’re all tired, so you end up dozing off. At one point you hear Kevin make an uncomfortable noise and Tom says, “What’s the matter DuBrow?” He makes the same noise again and says, “Nothing I’m……fine…” You open your eyes a little bit and see that Bonham fell asleep across his lap, and she’s got her chest directly on his lap. You soon put two and two together and figure out why he’s uncomfortable. They don’t know you’re awake yet. Do you say anything? What does Tom say? Does Kevin move Bonham?

I don’t say anything but I get up to get something to drink and Tom says, “You’re in a real predicament there aren’t you, DuBrow?” Kevin doesn’t move her. He just sits there until she wakes up. 

6. AVERT YOUR EYES STAFF kids idc so much this one ain’t  so bad

Your band and Cinderella are getting ready to film a video together. Kevin is there too. At one point, Tom accidentally runs into a secretary and just says, “Sorry.” Kevin says to Bonham, “That Tom guy is so stoic I don’t know how he and BabyCarrot are going to have a kid.” Bonham says, “Oh what ever, he’s just as much of a sex fiend as you, he can just hide it.” “No way, I’ll bet you fifty bucks that he’s a complete prude.” Kevin says. “You’re on,” Bonham says. “And I got just the way to prove it.” (you are unaware of this whole conversation, this is just for context). Bonham comes up to you and Kevin is off to the side. She’s trying to open one of those squeezy water bottles. “I can’t get this open, can you? Maybe Tom can. Hey Tom! C’mere!” He walks over and says, “What?” “We can’t get this open, can you–ooooooooooopsss…” Bonham grabs the bottle from you and says an exaggerated ‘oops’ and squeezes the bottle super hard, soaking your shirt. You were getting ready so you don’t have a bra on. “What the hell!” you say. “Oh no, now you’re soaking wet!” Bonham says exaggeratedly, “I’d better get a towel!” she walks off, and when she comes back and hands it to you, she says to Tom, “Help your wife clean up!” and thrusts the towel at him. He starts to dry you off and then when it’s time for you to change your shirt he says, “I’ll uh…be right back.” “What was that all about?” you ask Bonham. She says, “Oh nothing, I’m just clumsy but Tom seemed REALLY HOT AND BOTHERED ABOUT THAT.” She shouts the last part over her shoulder and you see Kevin fume before coming over. “Alright you win.” He says. How do you respond? Who explains what’s going on? WHo are you more mad at?

Me: What do you mean? What’s going on? 

Kevin: Bons bet me that Tom was as much of a sex fiend as I am and I told her she was wrong so she had to prove me wrong. 

I smirk at them, “Of course he is. Where do you think the two of us were earlier for a half hour?” 

Kevin’s mouth is hanging open after i grab Bons arm and pull her away for sound check. 

7. You and Bonham and Kevin and Tom are visiting a community college to do a talk with the students. You’re walking down the science hall when a terrible droning buzz comes over the intercom. “ATTENTION ATTENTION. THIS IS A LOCKDOWN. PLEASE SEEK SAFETY. LOCK YOUR DOORS AND TURN OFF YOUR LIGHTS. A POLICE OFFICER WILL RELEASE YOU WHEN IT IS SAFE TO COME OUT. ATTENTION ATTENTION…” this continues on a loop. Your tour guide, the dean of students, pulls you four into a science supply closet and locks the door. THe announcement hasn’t said whether or not this is a drill, so you’re all a bit confused. You’re all sitting in the closet, the only light coming from the eerie green exit sign. Bonham and Kevin are sitting on the floor, you’re sitting on the counter, and Tom is pacing around. After fifteen minutes, Tom turns to the dean and says, “So when’s this drill up? We’ve got shit to do.” Just as he’s finished talking, you hear a pop come from the hallway. The dean just looks at him and says, “If this was a drill the announcement would have said so. Someone’s in here.” More pops sound. Bonham kinda squeaks and grabs Kevin’s hand. Tom really quickly yanks you off the counter and puts his arm around you. How do the four of you respond to what the dean said? How long does it last? What happens when you come out?

Tom: Seriously?!

Kevin: You should have better security. 

I’m hyperventilating and trying to keep myself calm and I go over and hug Bons. 

We all just sit there and wait for like an eternity which was actually only 20 minutes when it’s over and we can come out, we find out they caught the crazy guy and no one was killed, thank god. 

8. You and Bonham and Kevin and Tom are getting ready to go out to a fancy restaurant for dinner. You and Tom are ready to go but you hear Bonham tell Kevin, “No, you are not wearing that.” “Why not? It’s fine.” “Kevin I love you but your fashion sense is the worst thing I have ever seen.” How does Kevin respond? What do you and Tom say when they finally come down?

Kevin: No, it is not! 

Kevin comes down in that god awful pink suit. 

I stare at him and go, “No, you’re not wearing that. I thought I burned that thing.”

Kevin: I have multiples. 

Bons: He refuses to change.

Me: Well we’re changing that. 

We both take him upstairs and he changes. 

Tom: God, you’re burning my eyes in that thing. Why do you even have it? It’s atrocious. 

9. You and Tom are in the studio one day when you get a call from a cop. “Is this A. M. Keifer and/or C. T. Keifer?” “Yes, why?” you say. “I’m on the scene of a car wreck and one of the victims has you as her emergency contact. We’re at 45th and Youngsfield. You might want to get down here.” He hangs up before you can say anything. You and Tom go down there and you see Kevin before you see the cop, but you’re more confused by the wreck. Kevin’s car is there and the front end is smashed, but the twisted pile of metal on the other side of the intersection is harder to recognize. THe driver’s side is smashed in, but it looks like Bonham’s car. You ask Kevin what happened and he’s a bit hysterical. Through his ravings, Kevin tells you that he was planning on meeting her at a new restaurant, and she was turning and he ran a red light and hit the driver’s side of her car head-on. He’s fine except for a couple of scrapes and bruises, but the EMTs are loading Bonham into the ambulance as you speak. The cop who called you earlier is walking up just as Kevin is telling you all this. How do you and Tom respond? What does the cop say? What happens next?

Me: Kevin, you fucking idiot! 

I hit him with my fists and Tom grabs my arms. 

Tom: Whoa, whoa, whoa, there tiger, calm down. 

I go with Bons in the ambulance and she’s fine but we have to postpone our upcoming concert because she broke her leg again. 

10. Your band and QR are hanging out one night and drinking when the subject of death comes up. Everyone is slowly speculating how everyone will die, and Bonham suddenly says, “I know exactly how I’m going to die, I’m going to shoot myself with a smile on my face. I’ll make sure my friends are happy and then I’ll take myself out cause God knows that no one is going to help me.” That’s dark. How do you, Rudy, Kevin, Carlos, Frankie, Erik, Linus, and Sean respond?

I burst into tears and go, “Please don’t please.” 

Kevin hugs me and goes, “We’d miss you Bons. Please don’t do that.” 

Rudy pulls her into a tight hug and Linus and Erik join it. 

Frankie is sleeping because he’s too drunk and its late. 

Carlos: Whoa, heavy man.

Sean was in the bathroom and comes back, “...what did I miss?” 

11. AVERT YOUR EYES STAFF

You and Tom and Bonham and Kevin are hanging out for the first time since he’s gotten out of rehab. At one point you’re all playing cards, and Bonham steps out to get drinks. She puts beers in front of you and Tom, and as she’s placing Kevin’s drink in front of him, she rests her chest on his shoulder and whispers something about strategy into his ear. She says more loudly, “But that’s just me.” As she sits down, Tom nudges you and points to Kevin. You look up and you see that he’s flushed beet red and is fidgeting in his seat, meanwhile Bonham’s got a smug look on her face. What does Kevin say? How do you and Tom react to what just happened? Does Bonham say anything?

Kevin: I...uh...I’ll...be right back. 

He gets up and makes a beeline for the bathroom. 

We both look at each other but don’t say anything. 

Bons just has a smirk on her face. 

____________________

1) Your singer is pregnant with her and Tom’s first kid and Tom is halfway across the country performing when she goes into labor. You and Kevin take her to the hospital and Kevin is going to her once they get her in the room, “Just breath.” She glares at him and screams, “That’s easy for you to say! I don’t see a kid coming out of your vagina!” How do you and Kevin respond?

2) Your sitting in the front row of a QR concert with your singer and Tom. Kevin is leaning over the stage and singing and Tom goes, “Eww, something wet just dropped on me.” Your singer looks up and goes, “Oh yeah, that’s just Kevin. Slobbering as usual.” How do you and Tom respond?

3) Your singer was given four free tickets to a Stryper concert. She takes you, Kevin, and Tom with her. At the beginning of the concert, you see the band tossing something out. One lands in front of your singer and your singer picks it up, “First concert I’ve ever been to where they throw Bibles into the audience.” Tom looks behind you and goes, “And people stampede to get them. Look out.” A horde of people are coming towards the four of you at the front. What do you, your singer, and Kevin say and what do you guys do?

4) Before Kevin goes to Rehab, you, Rudy, Carlos, Tom, and your singer are drinking and having a good time. Kevin has had a couple beers and is drunk. Your singer gets up to get something and Kevin follows. Soon you hear your singer screaming, “Kevin, get off me! Help get him off me!” The four of your run out in the kitchen to see Kevin has her backed into the corner of the counter and the next thing you know he slaps her hard across the face. You have no time to process this before Tom has him on the ground and is wailing on him. “Don’t you ever hit my girlfriend again! Understand!” What does Kevin do and how do you, your singer, Rudy, and Carlos respond?

5) You, your band, and Tom are working on an album when some guy who’s been stalking your bad gets past the recording studios security and comes into the building. He’s begging you guys for autographs, he’s brandishing a gun and saying, “If you don’t give me what I want I’m going to shoot you.”  Your singer goes, “You want something buddy? How about a knuckle sandwich.” Before she punches him in the face and disarms him. Once the security come to take him, Sean goes, “You’re 78.3% badass.” Your singer looks at him and goes, “How can someone be 78.3% badass?” How does Sean respond and what do you, Tom, Erik, and Linus say?

6) You and your band are drinking and talking about your sexual escapades when Sean goes, “I’ve been around the block a few times.” Your singer smirks at him, “With yourself or with someone else, Sean?” Sean glares at her, “With someone else, Smartass.” How do you, Linus, and Erik respond?

7) Fifteen-year-old Cassie comes walking out into the kitchen where you, your singer, Kevin, and Tom are sitting and goes, “Mom, you used to date Uncle Kevin?” Your singer shakes her head and goes, “Yeah, Cas, I dated him a couple of years before I met your Daddy.” Cassie looks between your singer and Kevin and goes, “I don’t see it.” How do you, your singer, Kevin, and Tom respond? 

8) Kevin is very drunk one day and he leans on the wall beside you at a party you’re at and goes, “No one can take me from being inside of you.” Your singer pipes up from next to Tom, “You realize semen only last about five days in the female body and then is dispelled from the body or dies so she’s actually getting rid of you inside her.” Kevin looks at her, “...shut up, BabyCarrot.” How do you and Tom respond?

9) You and Kevin are in the delivery room with your singer while she’s in labor with Cassie and is holding both your hands. Kevin is visibly uncomfortable and goes, “Why are we the ones helping you? Where’s Tom? You should be breaking his hand.” You glare at him and go, “Kevin, man up! He’s across the country performing. He’ll be here as soon as he can.” Right when you say this, the door bangs open and Tom says, “I’m here! I’m here! What did I miss?” Kevin looks over at him and goes, “You missed your wife breaking my hand.” How do you, your singer, and Tom respond and what happens next?

10) You and Kevin are going over to your singer and Tom’s to help them take the kids trick or treating. When your singer opens the door, you see she’s wearing what she used to wear when you went to QR’s first concerts. “What’s with the get-up?” you ask her. She’s about to say something when Cassie runs up to you and Kevin and goes, “Uncle Kevin! Uncle Kevin! Look I’m you for Halloween!” Kevin leans down to height and goes, “And who’s Sammy?” “Sammy is Uncle Randy and mom dressed Chrissy up to look like Uncle Rudy. And guess who daddy is,” Tom steps out at this moment in a 70s outfit that Drew would have worn. You, your singer, and Kevin burst out laughing. He looks at you, your singer, and Kevin and goes, “I hate you all.” Cassie runs up to him and goes, “Doesn’t he look amazing!” What does Tom say to her and how do you, your singer, and Kevin respond?

11) You and your singer come back from having lunch to find Kevin’s car in your singer and Tom’s driveway. When you come in you hear Tom and Kevin talking. “Don’t you dare tell Cassie, Sam, or Chrissy what I did to BabyCarrot when we dated. It was a bad time in my life and I’ve regretted it once I got sober and realized what I did. I don’t want them looking at me differently.” You hear Tom sigh, “We may have had our problems in the past, but I’ll never tell my kids that. They love and look up to you, especially Cassie.” You and your singer know you weren’t supposed to hear this. Do you make your presence know? If so what do you and your singer say? How do Tom and Kevin respond?

12) You, your singer, Tom, and Kevin are sitting at the kitchen table when 17-year-old Cassie comes storming into the kitchen and slams a magazine open to an article in front of Kevin. “I found this in a drawer in your office. Care to explain?” You, Tom, and your singer look at it and find that it’s the article that was printed when Kevin beat your singer up pretty bad with a not so flattering picture of her face. Cassie has huge tears in her eyes and she goes, “I’m so mad at you right now, Uncle Kevin. I can’t look at you. How could you do that to mom?” How do you, your singer, Kevin, and Tom respond?

13) You’re over at your singer and Tom’s with Kevin while Tom is on tour. You walk into Sam’s room to find him...busy. You squeak and he hears you. How does he respond? Do you tell your singer what you saw him doing? What do you and Kevin say to him? Does your singer ask Kevin to give him ‘the talk’? How does that go?

14) Your singer is nine months pregnant with Cassie and you're sitting with her on the couch. You’re listening to Crüe and Tom and Kevin are sitting on the opposite couch. Your singer is gently rubbing her stomach while talking to you and you hear Tom go, “Isn’t she the sweetest?” Kevin responds, “Yeah who can punch a guy out no problem and listens to lyrics like, ‘”I’m gonna break her face’.” How do you, your singer, and Tom respond?

@osbournebemydaddy your turn Bons :) 

[athike2015]

21 Nov 2015

Welcome to my reliving of my 2015 AT hike.  I have decided to share my trip as a day by day memory.  Each day I will share my personal journal (what I captured while hiking the trail), my comments (thoughts about the journal/trail from present day), and pictures from the day of the hike.

Miles hiked (day / trip) - 11.6 / 1900.8

Staying - NC208 / Ashville

Journal

Crazy day.  I had planned to be in Hot Springs.  Instead I’m in Asheville.  Got off trail b/c my shin was hurting - really bad.  I walked up to a house near Mom’s store (closed) and asked to use their phone to call for a ride.  Ride out of Hot Springs is late and we won’t make hours for urgent care.  Stopped at a coffee shop to use a phone to ask urgent care to stay open.  Doctor had already left.  Owner of the phone was headed to Mars Hill to pick up prescription for her daughter who stepped on a rake (that morning).  Mars Hill facility couldn’t see me until 5 pm.  Owner of a brewpub asked if I wanted to hang at a bar while waiting to be seen.  Went to bar, ate great food, and the owner said I had no tab - Trail Magic.  Went back to the urgent care where they immediately took me in. Stumped the doctor - pain was not typical place for shin splints.  X-ray showed signs of stress fracture, but she wouldn’t call it.  Off to Asheville hospital.  X-ray and MRI (my first) and the pain is a stressed muscle.  RICE for a week.  Hospital paid for taxi to Sweet Pea hostel.  Great brewpub (Lexington Ave) w/10% discount.

Crazy day.

Comments

I’m reposting a previous story.  It is the more coherent version of my journal.

“The trail will provide” was a common phrase on the AT.  Many people used the phrase when amazing circumstances happened allowing continued hiking.  Some used it to indicate that were out of food and needed cash to buy their next resupply.  I wasn’t a believer in the trail providing - I worked hard to ensure I had what I needed….. That was true until Asheville.

Prior to Asheville, I had hurt my shin.  I was hiking to get to Hot Springs and medical advice.  Unfortunately, my plans needed to change and that’s when amazing circumstances happened and “the trail provided”.

The morning of Nov. 21 started normal enough.  Wake up before dawn.  Eat breakfast (I’m guessing cereal and milk with a side of honeybun).  Drink coffee.  Pack up.  Start hiking slightly before sun rise.  My goal was 26 miles to Hot Springs…. hopefully before dark.

My shin was hurting before the hike.  I created compression bands out of duct tape (the bands were on top of my “compression socks” previous created).  The shin pain increased significantly before my first snack… less than one hour of hiking.  I started stretching my shin (pulling my heel to my butt and raising the toe toward my head).  The pain would reduce for a few minutes, but always came back.  I “needed” to hike fast - 26 miles isn’t going to be easy to complete in a day with ~10 hours of day light.

The pain was getting worse.  I started looking for options.  A hostel was about 1 mile away.  Perfect.  I will go to the hostel and figure out the next steps.  The hostel was closed due to illness (What illness closes a hostel?  Definitely not worth going for help if they are closed due to an illness).

Next option… There is a road with a store.  Perfect.  I can go to the store, use their phone, and go to town.  Get to road (NC208) and see store.  It’s clear the store hasn’t been open in a while (maybe a year or more).  Cell service - nope (thanks AT&T).  This is the last road before Hot Springs… So I leave the trail now or hike to Hot Springs.  Next option… hike to cell service.  Which way is the best?  No clue - I’ll just keep going the direction I’m going.

100 yards from the store I hear noises.  There are a couple of guys fixing a porch.  It’s the only house I see.  Houses have phones - wonder if they will let a smelly hiker use theirs.  By this time, I was comfortable asking a couple of random people to help me and it went well - sure I can use the phone.

I needed to get to the urgent care medical facility in Hot Springs.  AWOL (AT guide book) listed local transportation.  Called an outfitter (that provides transportation) - he typically needs 1 day to provide transportation, but he’ll get back to me…. wait, he can’t call my cell phone (felt bad giving to house phone number to a random outfitter - not sure how it would be used).  I’ll call back in 30 minutes.

So I sit on their front porch while the guys are working.  It looks like they are fixing the roof supports.  30 minutes later I confirm transportation - he is on his way.  He’ll meet at the “store”.  I need to be at the store when he gets there, because the medical facility closes at noon (its 11:15am) and it takes ~30 minutes to drive to Hot Springs.  I thank my host (multiple times) and walk to the store.

Driver shows up (late - 11:40).  First words - we’re not going to make it; call the medical facility when you get a signal.  You should get signal in a about a mile.  No signal.  I know of a coffee shop, we can stop if you don’t have a signal. Coffee Shop - No Signal.  Driver runs in and comes out with a cell phone.  “I don’t know how to use these” (What?  Cell phones? - I don’t care).  Unlock and call the medical facility.  

Medical Facility - Doctor just left

Me - Can you get her back?

Medical Facility - Once she’s gone she’s gone.  But there’s a facility in Mars Hill that is open.

Me - Mars Hill?

As I’m handing the phone back to its owner (she walked outside during the call), she mentions she’s going to Mars Hill and she’ll give me a ride.  It turns out her daughter had stepped on a garden rake that morning (puncturing the skin) and she needed to go to Mars Hill to get antibiotics.

So I’m in a car with a complete stranger and her daughter for a 40 minute ride to Mars Hill.  I thank her (as I exit the car) and head into the Mars Hill Urgent Care.  

No appointments until 5pm.  Really, its 12:30pm.  This doesn’t seem “urgent”.

Sitting outside talking with Abby (first cell signal where I could provide an update) and a guy ask “Are you a hiker?” (No a bad guess). “Want to come to my bar for food while you wait on your appointment?”.  Sure, I got nothing but time.  Eat a great lunch at Stackhouse (I would go again - really good food, nice beer selection - not what I expected in a college town).  I ask for my check so that I can go back to the medical facility (and maybe get in earlier).  Bartender - “My brother said to take care of you.  You don’t have a check.”  Thank him (this is getting to be standard) and leave an enormous tip.

Walk to the medical facility (¼ mile away - that took a long time).  The receptionist immediately recognizes me - “I’ll take you back in a couple of minutes.”  What?  Its 1:30?  Apparently, once you are in a room, the doctor will see you.  In my case, significantly reduced my wait.

Doctor sees me and thinks I have signs of a stress fracture (AWESOME), but she can’t make that call because she’s family practice.  I need to go to Asheville Hospital (even more AWESOME) to get x-rays and MRI.  How am I going to get to Asheville - It’s 30 miles away.

Back on the phone with the outfitter.  He has taxi services in Asheville.  30 minutes later I’m in a taxi to Asheville.  Thank her and exit the taxi.  Check in at the desk.  

Receptionist - “I’m sorry, but the MRI machine is backlogged for weeks.  You can’t get an MRI today”.  

Me - “I was told to get an x-ray and an MRI”.  

Receptionist - “Hold on.”  Picks up phone.  “It looks like you have been scheduled.  Must have been a cancellation”.

X-ray - inconclusive.  Time for an MRI (my first MRI).  No metal objects in the room…. its a very powerful magnet.  Change clothes to hospital approved gowns and climb into an MRI.  

Tech - “We have mics in the room.  Talk if you need anything”.  10 minutes I realize I’m wearing a wedding band - Should I say anything?  

Me - “I’m wearing a wedding band”.  

Tech - “I saw.  You’re fine”.  

What does that mean?  I guess it means I won’t lose my finger as my wedding band flies toward the giant magnet.

Back to the waiting room to get my results.  It’s late - like 7pm (”late” really changed on the trail).  I need a place to stay tonight.  Let me talk with the receptionist.  She knew a couple of hotels (including the Biltmore - thought about staying at the Biltmore, but seemed a bit extravagant).  All were changing more than $150/night.  Not worth it.  She’s phones a friend who phones several more.  In five minutes, 7 people are in the reception area working on options.  Found a great hostel in near a brewpub and the hospital will pay for transportation (apparently they have a policy for out of town guests).

MRI results - not a stress fracture.  Its a pulled muscle.  I need to rest for 5 to 7 days.

Sitting in the hostel, it hit me.  The trail provided.  I needed 4 rides, two medical facilities, two drivers available on very short timing, a certain persons cell phone with a daughter needing medical supplies, a receptionist willing to bend rules, an overbooked MRI machine, and impeccable timing to get to the hostel.  I can’t believe so many pieces fell into place, but it happened.  

I wasn’t going to be hiking tomorrow, but the trail provided.

Pictures

NC208 and AT

[miss-sassmaster]

10 Things I Learned as an Interviewer for the Interviewee

As a fourth year medical students (yikes) I was able to become an interviewer for my medical school. So yes, that means maybe someone I’ve interviewed may one day see this. Though probably not. Anyways, it was very surreal to be on the other side of the process all these years later and while I’m getting ready for interviews myself (anyone want me for residency, btw?)

A lot of expectations and previous notions about interviews that I had really did change and I can see how intricate the process actually is, and I get why we get asked the questions we do. At least somewhat better.                                                                   

All experiences and interviewers are different but here are some things I think can really help out the interviewee. Maybe things you thought were hard and fast rules but aren’t or things you didn’t expect us to be looking for. Anything to help! And while this is directed at pre-meds, the advice should still general enough that anyone can use it, if they want.

Some things to know beforehand; I was part of a two-on-one interview setting which lasted 30 minutes with a few preset questions we needed to ask. The interview was blind, so we couldn’t see stats.

Take a second to observe your interviewers.

This isn’t an open invitation to judge your interviewers, but most of us are pretty telling in the way we present ourselves. If you can take a break for the nerves for a second pay attention to our introductions, our demeanor and how we’re dressed. It can give you a sense of how relaxed or stringent we may be and what our personalities may be like even if we were told to stay stone cold poker-faced. And always keep in mind who your interviewers are and what departments they’re from. It can help guide the tone we set for the entire interview.  

Play off the interviewers.

Now that you’ve taken a moment to take in your surroundings use those to your advantage. If we’re playing tough, answer with strength and intention. If we’re relaxed, don’t sit so stiff and maybe get us to laugh. If you are asked thought provoking questions, take time to think about it and provide thought provoking answers. The more you work with us, the easy and more open a dialog becomes and the more personable the interview will become. It’s a great way to show flexibility and adaptation, and for the interviewers who did this well we found ourselves impressed.

If I’m offering you information, take it.

If I am telling you that I am a 4th year and I can answer your questions about rotations, classes, or student life I am literally giving you questions to ask me in the event you have forgotten all of yours. If faculty tells you which program they are a part of and what they specialize in they are opening that line of information for you. They are telling you were their interests and focuses are and you can run with that, if you like.

Please, please do your research.

We had an application who couldn’t tell us what they liked our school. Had no idea what the mission statement was or what the goals of the school were. Didn’t have a clue. I had to use my doctor face so I could stay neutral. It was bad. I get that you just want to be in medical school but come on. Point blank, there is no excuse for anyone to know nothing about the program they’re interviewing for. You should also have worked out answers for frequently asked questions. Getting stumped on classic medical school questions…it’s a big red flag. So please plan ahead and do your research.  

Pick the length of your answers carefully.

Different types of questions prompt different types of answers. There are a lot of questions that can prompt follow up questions. Hobbies for example; going into every detail about your hobbies is probably counterproductive. But that’s assuming you have a fair amount of things you like to do that aren’t medicine. You can add a snip here and there, like “I’ve done that for 15 years” or “it’s really a huge passion of mine” but if there is interest in hearing more, we’ll most likely ask. If you only have one thing, don’t think “I like running” is a good enough answer. Give us something to work with. There are questions, especially theoretical ones or tell me a story situations that are meant to be longer. And always keep in mind your time limit.

Be confident, not cocky.

There is a huge difference between smug and confident. We had one prospect who gave this shit-eating “gotcha” grin after every question they thought they had aced. It was almost like they were trying to directly challenging me. It got to the point that I stopped caring what they were saying and was just getting pissed. The answers could have been great (they weren’t) but all that stuck with me was the cockiness. Not sure if you do that unintentionally? That’s what practice interviews are for. There are very clear differences when someone was proud of an answer and were pleased, and what this individual was doing. And if you do act that way, personally, I don’t want you representing my school, regardless of what your application looks like.

I don’t care about the “right” answer. I care why.

I know there are certain questions answers that are kind of set in stone. And I know straying too far from say, an ethics question, is hard to do in a new and unique way. The way to make yourself stand out from the crowd is to explain the reasons why you believe this to be the “right” answers since those tend to differ among applicants and shows your critical thinking skills past “well obviously this is the right answer”. Aside from that most interviewers don’t have specific expectations for most questions. We’d rather just hear about you and your personal experiences, honestly.

We’re not always looking for your spoken answer.

Sometimes we’re looking at your body language. I will purposefully ask questions I know there are only a few answers too. Not because I want to know if you know it, but rather how you viscerally respond. Do you look uncomfortable when answering an ethics or grades question? Did you answer robotically? Are you still looking at me? Can you pick yourself back up after a rough question? What you do speaks just as loud as the things your saying and I’m looking for it.

Use your personality and responses to show you want to be here. Not your grades.

This was not an isolated event. I had a few prospective students speak about a class and sneak in “which I got an A in” and continue. Not really a fan of that. I naturally assume that everyone we interviewed had good enough grades and scores because, well, you’re at the interview. At this point in the process all I want if for you to shine beyond those things and prove to me that you can be a doctor on paper and in person.  

Make me feel connected to you.

In the end, I want to feel like I know who you are. I want to know what you stand for and I want to experience the person who wants to become a physician. I want to appreciate your story and how far you’ve come. We don’t need to become best friends, we don’t need to have similar thoughts or values or personalities. But I want to feel like we could understand each other now and in the future. Let me be excited about you and for you. Let me want you to be here so I can check accept.

I hope someone was able to get something useful from this because for all of you here dying to enter this crazy profession I want you to reach your goals. I really do, and I’m just doing all I can on the internet. Good luck to everyone on your interviews!