#but jesus very much drank wine and touched dead people

[wolfythewitch]

My bible hyperfixated ass: oh cool Wolfy makes Bible art? Sign me up!

Me looking at the Jesus design: ay wait a minute *checks cultural customs of 1st century Nazareth* Nazerites had long hair!

(Its fine lol just something I remembered(i know too much))

Nazirites had long hair, not Nazarenes. Nazirites were people who had taken the Nazirite vow, where some of the conditions include: not cutting your hair, not drinking alcohol, and not touching or going near the dead. Two of which Jesus has done multiple times

There are people who were nazirites, like John the Baptist and Samson

[fly-like-a-phoenix]

House of Lust (part 17)

Abbé de Coulmier x reader

Summary: Five years has passed since the events of Quills. The Abbé de Coulmier is released of prision by a misterious event. And he will know again those feelings he never thought will meet again: love... and lust.

Warnings: some weird things, pre-smut.

You arrived together to the dining room, and a lot of guests shared glances. The handsome priest disappeared for three days, and you too. And a lot of them noticed that.

The table was full of guests already sitting. Only two chairs, one in front of the other, were empty. Everyone wanted to be closer to Odelle's chair. The table had a lot of food too: two turkeys, one big pig with an apple in his mouth, cheese, fruits, eggs, bread, soup. And wine already served in big glasses, in front of every chair.

Coulmier moved a chair to let you sit, and then he smiled at you. He was a gentleman. He then sat in front of you, Josephine closer to you both at one tip of the table, smiling too. You looked beautiful together.

Odelle sat at the other tip, and everyone went silent and looked at her. She glanced at everyone with a perfid smile in her face. Then, she rised her hands.

"My friends. My guests. My visitors to this House of Lust. As everything, this celebration of our way of life has to end. We enjoyed these days together, doing everything that pleases us and what we can't do freely in the cities. For that, I raise my glass. Bottoms up, for the Marquis de Sade!"

Every person raised the glass of wine that was already served, and said, at the unison "Marquis". As a coincidence, Coulmier and you glanced at Josephine. The way Odelle said "My friends, my guests" was strange, like leaving her behind.

François looked at you and drank wine. It had a nice taste. Perhaps a little strong, but a good red wine. The meal continued with people talking about their days in the mansion, and the things they did, alone, with others, to others...

You drank too, sharing Josephine's and François silence. Without any doubt, something strange happened between your sisters. Something bad, surely, because usually, Josephine always sat at Odelle's side in the last party. But you didn't ask.

And hour and a half latter, François could not eat more. He was really satisfied after those days without eating nothing in the dungeon. He looked at you, the way you were finishing your meal, and smiled.

"So, everyone!" Said Odelle, making a sound with her glass and spoon. "Enjoy this last day like if you're going to die! And I hope I'll see everybody again next year. Try to keep your crimes in secret."

A general laugh filled the place, and every guest went back to their rooms. Fine, you thought. No one asked nothing about you or the Abbé. You raised and went to Josephine side.

"Can I talk with you?" You murmured, and she nodded. You made a sign with your head, and François understood you wanted to talk her about the plan you got with him. Josephine didn't deserve to stay with Odelle.

François left the table and went to your bedroom. Suddenly, the large house seemed empty. He could hear sounds from the inside of the rooms, but again, nothing else.

He was walking very slowly when he heard his name. At first, it was like a whisper, but when he heard it again, he stopped. There was no one in front of him, so he turned around.

"Abbé." Said the sweet voice. And he recognized it.

It was Madeline.

She was standing there, outstanding as she was those days before everything happened, those days before Roger-Collard arrival. Her hair was tied, and her dress was clean as her skin.

"Abbé." She said again, and smiled.

François had his mouth wide open. He couldn't belive she was there. She was dead! How was that possible? Was he dreaming? Did he died in the dungeon?

"What is it, Abbé? Why do you look at me so scared?"

Her smile vanished. He was really in shock, trembling, feeling a little dissy. The walls of the corridor seemed to twitch around him, and he wanted to cry, but he couldn't do it. He couldn't move.

"Abbé, don't scare me." She said, again his title in her beautiful lips. Then, he reacted, and almost run to her, hugging her strongly and crying.

"Madeline. Oh my God. How...?"

She looked at him, and for a second her face was full of confussion. She arched an eyebrow, and then smiled at him, touching his face with both hands.

"It's something... I can't explain. Just follow me."

Her hands took both of his, and then just one. Her skin was still soft, warm. She guided him through the hallway until they arrived to the empty dining room. And François saw the sky behind the windows, which was dark because of the rain clouds.

He could hear the storm coming and some thunders while they walked to a hallway he hadn't see before. Suddenly, Madeline let go his hands and got closer to the wall. She pushed it, and the wall opened in two. It was a secret door.

The inside was darker than the sky. There were no windows, and just a few candles lighted the place. It was big, and cold. Walls were different from the rest of the house, made with stone. And there was something in the center of the room that François recognized at the moment his eyes got used to darkness.

It was an altar. Big, an made of stone too. Then, he scanned the place better with his eyes, and then he saw something that terrified him for a couple of seconds: people. There were people standing in there.

They were dressed all in black, like cassocks. But no one was a priest. And no one had a normal face: just two orifices as eyes and everything black as the rest of the clothes.

"What is it?" Madeline asked, watching the place as he did.

"Don't you see them?" Said he, as if seeing her wasn't strange enough.

"Who am I supossed to see?" She lifted her eyebrow, smiling at him.

"The people. The..."

Maybe it was his mind. But he was sure she was there, with him. Why did he suddenly see her? Maybe he drank too much, arrived to the bed, and he was just dreaming with her and all that.

"The statues, you mean?" She asked, speaking slowly.

"St... Statues?"

Coulmier was sure he saw people, and not statues. He was sure about that, as the sky clear, blue and without any clouds during the lunch. But then, after Madeline said it, the people were indeed statues. Saint statues.

"Is this... The Charenton chapel? How...?"

But his questions were blown away from his mind at the moment Madeline kissed him with hunger. He closed his eyes after the surprise abandoned him. She still felt the same way. Her lips, her taste. He let himself go, and his hands traveled to her hips, squeezing gently, earning a soft moan from her.

They were in the chapel again. But she wasn't dead as that time. That dream he had five years before this was happening scared the hell out of him. But now, it was all beautiful. She was well, healthy, without any wound.

If this was a dream, he didn't want that kiss to end. The kiss ended, of course, but it was better that what he has thinking. At the second he opened his mouth to say something and probably ruin the moment, Madeline put her fingers in his lips, and he didn't say anything.

"Come on. I still want you. And I hope you still want me, more now that you're not so churchy."

Not so churchy? Madeline was a lot of things. But she never mocked about his work as a priest, or the things he believed in. She respected him, she helped him. And that time they kissed in his bedroom, the one and only real kiss, she understood why he couldn't make love to her.

The word seemed weird to him, like new like new but not totally unintelligible. It wasn't a word that everybody used. It was a word like those the Marquis used. Like those he also used a lot while writing wicked stories.

But again, when his own thoughts filled his mind, Madeline hands went to his sides and then, slowly opening some buttons of his cassock, she let her hands go into his trousers.

When she took his erect manhood in her hands was something really shocking for him. Yes. He still desired Madeline, even if in his mind he knew he was dreaming again with her.

But that feeling... Her fingers caressing his skin, his thumb playing with the tip, wet because of his arousal... He felt himself getting harder, because it was all so real.

"Do you like it, Abbé?" She murmured, and he nodded while passing his tongue over his lips.

She kept touching him like for a minute, opening the rest of the buttons and his shirt too with her free hand. His breathing became faster when her nails caressed the skin of his abdomen and went up to his chest.

She then put her hand flat in the center of his chest. He saw how quickly he was breathing, feeling hotter down there around her hand.

"I can feel your heart in my hand. That's what I do to you?" Said she, moving her fingers to play with the short hair around his nipple, her nails scratching the wound a little.

"Yes." He answered. "I still got like that for you."

"Really? Because I thought you got like that for Y/N only now."

He didn't answer, but it was true. He was scared, aroused. It was all so weird but so exciting that he couldn't control his feelings. But did he still really love Madeline? Was she real? Or a product of his mind.

He repeated himself he used to see her and the Marquis while he was in that cell in Charenton. He talked to them. He was really lost.

But now, he knew she wasn't real. He could enjoy the dream and the feeling she was still among living people. But he knew it was not like that. He was cured. And yes, his faith wasn't the same as before, but the only man who resurrected was Jesus.

"It beats like that for Y/N only. It's just that seeing you here... After those horrible things happened... After you... I can't belive I'm with you, Maddy. But... I..."

There was a moment of silence where she stopped her movements around his cock. His hearth became wilder, but because he was nervous about whst he was just about to say aloud.

"I don't love you anymore, Maddy. Since I met Y/N, I don't love anyone else."

He took her hand out of his pants, and kissed it. Tears came again to his eyes as he touched her cheek, smiling with pain.

"I hope you can forgive me. Forgive me for this. Forgive me for not showing you how much I loved you. Forgive me for not accepting making love to you that night. And forgive me for arriving so late to the basement. I couldn't save you."

She kissed him again, like forgiving him for all he said and more. When the kiss ended, she caressed his neck, and her hands went to his sides, giving him tingles.

"You can't love me. But you can make love to me. What do you say? Don't you wanna do it one last time before you go? Or is it the first time?"

Go? Go where? Out if the mansion, away from the House of Lust? Did she meant that? Or away of his memory forever?

It didn't mind, because seconds later, he didn't know when, Madeline took of her dress and being fully naked and ready for him, she laid in the altar, seducing and waiting for him.

Tagging: @darknessisafriend @five-miles-over @yukis-writing @thegirlwho @jokerflecker @missrockabilly99 @luperugorria99 @weirdflecksbutok @skaraboo @starksclown @sgtsavoytruffle @joaquinisart @sophiefleck @the-queen-of-things @ajokerfangirl @bailaycantaconmingo @joaquinfeed @joaquinphoenixdaily @beatlebabe1996

[owengrantham]

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[crue-sixx]

Forever and Always

Title: Forever and Always

Author: tiddly-winx

Summary: Based on @crue-sixx's vampire head canon, the reader is a vampire who has completely captivated Nikki Sixx.

Warnings: mild smut, swearing.

The night you met your future love, you were just looking for your next meal.  The young folk nowadays seemed really into the vampire legends as a gimmick, but that suited you just fine, you were just trying to blend in with your surroundings.  That was one of the first lessons your master had taught you, before casting himself into a bonfire to end his unnatural long life.  You had also learned the essentials from him, like never drink after the heart had stopped beating, no prolonged exposure to the sun and most importantly how to choose prey-only feed on whoever you could, but kill the wicked the wicked.  In the years that followed his abandonment, you had grown bitter at the world and did as you pleased.  Over the span of 100 years, you understood why your master had cautioned discretion-you had seen many a fine vampire meeting their untimely end at the hands of ignorant villagers.  You eventually taught yourself how to keep cool as a cucumber in social situations, more importantly controlling yourself when you smelled blood. 

However, you soon grew tired of being sociable and did what many other vampires did when they didn’t want to be bothered-you found yourself an empty crypt and fed on the stupid teenagers who wandered inside in search of whatever hauntings local lore dictated plagued the cemetery.  You didn’t kill them of course, but you made sure to make your mark on inconspicuous places of the body.     

It was early in 1981 right in the heart of Los Angeles that you eased up from the depths of your long sleep to listen to the most invigorating music you had ever heard.  It was loud and aggressive, making the very earth rumble as if its sole purpose was to wake the dead.  You strolled into the lane of graves from your mausoleum and began walking towards the sounds of the nightlife.  You took in what the young people were wearing, then looked down at yourself in dismay.  The ankle length modesty dress was sorely out of fashion but a grin came across your face as you spied a young lady wearing a black leather corset with matching leather pants and boots.  “Child” you called out to her, so softly it was like a whisper on the wind.  She turned around and locked eyes with you, a deep breath later she was mesmerized by what she was seeing and spoke briefly with her companions about going onto the Whisky a Go Go, that she would catch up in a minute. 

When she was directly in front of you, she asked what you wanted and you replied “Where can I aquire such articles of clothing, Child?” 

In her trance like state, she pointed to a clothing store right across the street.  You thanked her and kissed her hand, then turned it over to expose her wrist.  You bought your fangs down on it and drank a small amount-the ‘little drink’ as you called it.  She didn’t feel a thing as you drank from her, but when you were finished you dismissed her and she rejoined her group.  You sauntered into the shop where the clerk stared at your garments.  You picked out a wine colored leather outfit similar to what the young lady was wearing and enchanted the salesperson with “I’ll just be taking these, it’s no trouble right?” 

The clerk put up no argument as you changed into the more updated outfit.  It looked fitting on you and from the girls blood, you obtained some knowledge of current events and lingo.  You walked out of the shop, picking up some gothic themed necklaces on your way out.  The music was so loud you didn’t even need to use your enhanced senses to feel it-it shook your bones to the very core.  You finally got in and stood in the front row, the young man playing a rather peculiar instrument (which you later learned was a bass) locked eyes with you and he kept his gaze on you for the entire song.  You smirked and winked at him as the song was winding down, leaving to go wait in the alley for the next ‘little drink’ to come by. 

A few moments later the same young man that coudln’t stop staring at you while playing his song opened the door and peeked outside to see you.  You looked up at him and asked “You following me, rockstar?” 

“Just...” he shifted uneasily, like he was unaccustomed to talking with the ladies “Wondering why you left so quick” he seemed to have gotten over his temporary shyness and added “There’s a party over at our place.  You should hang out with us” 

“Sweetheart, I don’t know if you can handle me, but alright” this human was intriguing to you so you accepted his invitation.  Soon you grew fond of your newfound friends, even like a little family if you dared say so.  It felt like something worth coming back to see every night.  Seeing them party like they were going to die the next day was interesting to say the least.  They were always doing stupid things, knowing full well the possible outcomes and consequences, but they didn’t care.  It was the first time you genuinely laughed in centuries. 

It was when you finally had a moment alone with Nikki on the couch with your head in his lap that your eyes locked intimately, just as they had the night you two met.  He breathed a ragged breath out, and from his blood you could smell the rush of hormones swim in his veins.   You knew what he wanted and were more than happy to oblige.  A silent heat came over the both of you as you got up and straddled him, his hands coming down gently on your hips.  You had to know that this was more than just lust, so right before things started to get too heated, you broke the kiss and asked “You sure you want to do this, Nikki?” 

“Only if you want to” he answered; his eyes glazed over with desire.  That didn’t answer your question, so you did the next best thing.  You gently scraped the skin on his neck to draw the smallest amount of blood possible and licked it up to see his truth.  He was completely and utterly yours if you wanted him, and by God you did. 

“Then take me to bed, Rockstar” was all the confirmation he needed, easily lifting you up and carrying you to his room bridal style.  His touch was unlike anything you’ve ever experienced before-even when you were human.  He was so gentle with you, making sure he explored every inch of your nude body and you doing the same for him.  Your orgasm was so intense that when the ultimate wave of pleasure initially hit you, your fangs popped out and it took all of your will power to resist biting him and draining him dry.  He finished soon after you did, feeling your heat erupt on his cock sent him over the edge.  A low, stuttering curse from his mouth as a final, giant thrust reached into your hot core.  You felt his seed enter you, then drip onto his sheets when he pulled out. 

“Jesus Fucking Christ” he panted, using his remaining strength to keep himself propped up over you.  “That was awesome...” he then lowered down and off of you, cuddling into your frame.   

You too were more than satisfied and only offered an unintelligible “Mmm” in response, not being able to say much else.    

Nikki ran his fingers through your hair and asked “How about you be my girl?”  You nodded an affirmative reply, to which he just grinned and kissed you tenderly.  The next time you both came out of his room, Vince and Tommy were in the living room with open beers in their hands.  They stared in smug amusement. 

“It's about time Sixx!  We were wondering when you were gonna do her!”  Tommy got up and offered a high five, but it was not returned. 

“Y/N’s my girlfriend.  I’d appreciate it if you’d stop making such jokes at her expense if you don’t mind” he said playfully. 

Vince took a swig of his beer and added “No shit, Sherlock.  You haven’t even LOOKED at another girl much less fucked one since you met her!”  You were very much surprised by this revelation, but you kept your cool. 

“Gotta get back to my place, Babe” you nuzzled into him “They’ll try to rent it out again” you had indeed gotten a job and an apartment of your own since you woke up, and you used that place as a hiding spot for when you fed.    He walked you to your apartment, then at your door he turned you around kissed you softly. 

“Last night was amazing, baby” he sighed into your neck. 

“How about we do an encore at my place soon?” you held up a key to your apartment and gave it to him.  “You’re always welcome here if you need a place to crash” he took the key without hesitation and one more quick kiss before going back to his place. 

It was a few days later that Nikki and the boys came knocking at your door, only because they hadn’t seen or heard from you in a few days.  On the way over, they discussed things they thought seemed off about you.  Like you skin being pale and cold to the touch, the way your eyes changed colors and were even red sometimes.  Most importantly that you almost never came out in the daytime, unless it was a cloudy day when clouds covered the sun.  Mick in his usual sarcastic tone suggested “Maybe she’s a fuckin’ vampire” to which the other laughed nervously. 

Your senses were going wild, not being able to feed for the past few days was taking its toll on you.  Your skin was sunken in, your eyes like a wild animal’s ready to pounce at the first sight of a wandering human.  You looked like a living corpse, to put it mildly.  When you heard the door to the apartment open and heard them calling you, you stopped dead and stared at the bedroom door.  “I’m fine...just been feeling sick the past few days...” you called out. 

“If you’re just sick then why the fuck won’t you answer the fuckin’ phone?” the door to your room opened and the light clicked on.  The false lighting was too bright for you in this weakened state and you hissed, getting under the covers. 

“Just go away...you four aren’t safe here...” you groaned. 

“Not until we see you” Tommy insisted and pulled off the blanket, all of them completely shocked to see you in such a state. 

“Y/N you need a fuckin’ hospital!” Nikki tried to lift and carry you out the door but you grabbed the door frame and roared, accidentally baring your fangs to them all.  Your eyes so red they glowed like a stop   light at midnight.  Nikki put you down and stared in shocked amazement, after a moment he said “What are you?” 

“I’m a vampire, guys” you sheepishly scolded yourself for such an unsightly display “I get like this when I can’t feed for a few nights...” 

Without hesitation Nikki offered up his wrist for you to bite “Drink from me, Baby...if it’ll help you get better...”  his blood was calling to you, but you refused.  He laid you on the bed next to him and bought it up to your lips. 

“I don’t wanna hurt you, Nikki” you told him. 

“And we don’t want to see you starving yourself like this.  Shut up and drink my fuckin’ blood, woman” you kissed his wrist before biting down into it.  The small popping sound of your fangs puncturing his flesh was followed by a rush of pleasure.  He only gasped a little bit and winced, letting out a small moan of carnal desire.  All you needed was a few swallows, a transformation back into your old self, plus a little more color to your cheeks. 

Mick was in awe most of all, saying “Holy shit, you really are a vampire” he reached up to touch your face to make sure he was really seeing this.  Nikki tried to walk but stumbled, you caught him and put him on the bed. 

“Sleep now, Nikki” you cooed in his ear “the first time feeding from a person leaves them tired” he obeyed and slipped into a deep sleep.  Soon, you explained everything about being a vampire “I was forced into a marriage I didn’t want, and on my wedding night, I jumped from the tower.  A vampire saw me and turned me without even asking if I wanted to be one.  The bastard then left me to find out what it meant to be a vampire” you recalled what you could remember from your human life. 

Soon they all agreed that they’d take turns letting you feed from them.  You were pleasantly surprised to find that not only were they willing, but they liked it even.  Things had been going like this for a few years, but then Nikki came to you asking to do something you thought you’d never have to do.  “Y/N...I want you to turn me into a vampire...like you...”The band was rising in popularity in the clubs and even a record company offered them a deal. 

“Please, Nikki” you looked down shyly “Wait a few years...you’d have to leave the band because people would see that while the others aged, you’d stay the same.  If you can live with leaving the band, faking your death and going through the excruciating transformation into a vampire then you can ask me again...” he accepted these terms, and three years later he asked again. 

"Are you absolutely sure you want this?” you asked him, reiterating all of your previous points in the last discussion. 

“Yes, Y/N” he answered “Baby, I don’t care. I love you so much and I want to be with you…forever. Please, just let me be able to do that.” he pleaded, taking your hand in his. 

“Alright...the transformation is very painful.  I have to drink from your neck until almost the point of death, then have you drink from my neck.  It feels like pure lava coursing through your veins, the heart quickens to pump the vampire blood faster” you could smell he was afraid, but he knew it was worth it if it meant he would spend eternity with you. 

He walked closer to you, his lips crashing into yours and his tongue invading your mouth.  He broke the kiss breathlessly.  “Do it, Babe...” you started kissing down his neck, the artery pounding beneath the skin.  You sink your fangs into him, he let out an audible gasp and he soon slackened.  You laid him down on the ground and listened to his heart, being careful not to take too much.  When you knew the time was right, you stopped and sliced your neck and bought him up to your body.  You first felt his tongue then he pulled you in closer to him to get as much blood from you as possible. 

You trembled, gently pushing him away “That’s enough darling...” he was thrashing about, screaming and cursing to high heaven.  You cradled him in your lap, reassuring him that it only hurts for a few minutes.  He stopped moving and for a moment you were worried that you had killed him.  He opened his new, blood red eyes and sat up to look around. 

“Everything seems so vivid” he remarked, taking in familiar surroundings with his new senses.  “I can see, hear and smell things I couldn’t before...” he dragged his fingers across the wound on your neck “even touch is more sensitive for me...” 

“I will teach you the ways of being a vampire, Nikki” you said to him “first lesson starts now-we must feed to heal our wounds...” you showed him how to use his sex appeal to get prey, but to never take the life of an innocent.  “Kill the evildoer whenever you come across one, Nikki” you told him “make them suffer, but take no pleasure in your duty” he nodded in agreement. 

“As long and I can have you by my side while doing it, anything is possible” he kissed you again, before his first of many lessons began.

[a-corndog-named-schibbs]

Fangs, Fur, and Phantoms - Chapter 5

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

Next Chapter

Back at it again with more spooky fun.  Coran finds weird uses for a communion wafer.  Lance accepts an offer he’d rather refuse.  Answers are finally found.

Note: Contains religion (Note within a note: author was raised Protestant. If you’re familiar with Catholic liturgy and notice she got something wrong, please let her know so she can fix it)

Enjoy!

“God, the Father of mercies, through the death and resurrection of his Son has reconciled the world to himself  and sent the Holy Spirit among us for the forgiveness of sins; through the ministry of the Church, may God give you pardon and peace, and I absolve you from your sins in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.”

“Amen,” Lance murmured.

“May the Passion of our Lord Jesus Christ, the intercession of the Blessed Virgin Mary and of all the saints, whatever good you do and suffering you endure heal your sins, help you to grow in holiness, and reward you with eternal life. Go in peace.” Coran said from the other side of the screen.

“Already got the eternal life bit, thanks,” said Lance, under his breath.

“Do we need to do this again so you can confess to sassing a prophet?”

“Nah, I’m good.” Lance stepped out of the confession booth.

“How about Mass?  When was the last time you had that?” Coran asked, also exiting the booth.

“I think I can go without tonight.”

“Well, let’s test that, shall we?” said Coran, reaching over to the altar and picking up a communion wafer from the dish.  He approached Lance and pressed the wafer to his forehead.

Lance winced.  When Coran pulled the wafer away, a slight pink mark appeared where it had been.

“Better to be safe than sorry.  I’ll get the blood bag.”

“It didn’t hurt that much…”

“It’s not supposed to hurt at all,” Coran pointed out, “If you want to take care of your immortal soul then you’ve got to take the treatments.”

Lance sighed, “Oh, all right.”  He certainly understood why he took Mass.  He was the one who had asked Coran to help him find a way to do so, his family’s faith one of the few ties to his past he had left.  That didn’t mean it wasn’t frustrating, having to take Mass nearly every night just so he could walk past a crucifix without fear of getting a headache.

Lance watched as Coran retrieved the cup used specifically for vampire-friendly Mass (no need for the other congregants to drink wine from a cup that had had blood in it the night before) and poured blood from a blood bag into it.  He then recited the invocation and presented Lance with the cup.  Lance drank it down.

“There,” said Coran, “Let’s try this again.”  He picked up the communion wafer and touched it to Lance’s forehead once more.

“Nothing,” said Lance, “Now you’re just a guy holding a cracker up to another guy’s forehead.”

“Good.  That means it worked,” Coran set the wafer down and patted Lance on the shoulder, “I’m glad you stopped by tonight, Lance, it’s always nice to see you.  Tell Keith I said hi and try not to get into too much trouble.”

Lance smirked, “But you’d be out of a job if I didn’t.”

“I’m serious, son.  If you come in here next week and tell me that you’ve…I don’t know…eaten a five-year-old or something—“

“Coran!  I would never!  Five-year-olds aren’t nearly ripe enough to eat.”

Coran raised an eyebrow.

“Kidding, just kidding,” said Lance, “You take care of yourself, Coran.  I’ll see you tomorrow.”

As Lance exited St. Groggery’s, he noticed a man across the street, standing by a rather expensive-looking car and illuminating the pavement with his phone’s flashlight.

The man looked up and noticed him, “Excuse me, do you think you can help me with something?”

Lance crossed the street, “What do you need, man?”

“I seem to have dropped my keys, could you help me find them?”

Lance almost didn’t catch the man’s words.  Up close, he was strikingly attractive.  Tall as hell and slender, but not without muscle.  His facial features were an elegant, refined sort of handsome and his long platinum-blond hair showed signs of being well cared-for.

“Sure,” said Lance, “Sure, let me just…” He knelt down and peeked under the car while the stranger held the flashlight, not that he needed it to see in the dark.  After a moment, he spotted the keys and fished them out.

“Here you go.”

“Thank you so much.  I was worried they’d gone down a storm drain.  I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t come along.”  The man put his hand on Lance’s arm.  Lance had mixed feelings about the gesture, though he couldn’t seem to bring himself to shake the other man off.

“Oh, it was nothing really.”

“Still, I’d like to show my gratitude in some way.  How about I get you a drink?”

“I, uh, I don’t drink…alcohol.”

“I know,” said the man, pulling the collar of his shirt down slightly to reveal his collarbone.

Bad idea, said Lance’s brain, even as his arms reached for the man and his legs carried him forward.

The man pulled him into a nearby alleyway and pressed him against the wall.  Lance’s head spun.  He could already smell the man’s blood, could practically taste it on his tongue.  It would taste so good to have blood straight from the source for once.  The last time he had had a fresh meal was…

That snapped Lance out of his trance.  The only person he did this with anymore was Keith.  You just got out of confession and already you’re trying to eat from a stranger, what’s wrong with you?  Lance took a step back, “I’m sorry, I really shouldn’t.  I need to get home—“

His words were cut off as the man shoved him backwards against the wall, a hand wrapped around his throat.  Lance tried to shake him off, but the stranger only pushed him harder into the bricks, lifting him off his feet with astonishing strength.  Lance squirmed against the man’s grip.  It would take more than choking to kill him, but the lack of oxygen was making his head spin.

Something hard and pointed pressed against his chest, right above his heart.  Lance looked down.  The man was holding a wooden stake, poised to stab him with it.

“I assume you know what that is.  If you so much as scream, it’ll be the last noise you ever make.”

The man set Lance back on his feet.

“What do you want?” Lance hissed, rubbing his throat.

“You’ve encountered two individuals by the names of Agents Shirogane and Prince, yes?”

“Yeah…” said Lance, remembering the agents that had come to Keith’s house the other day.

“They work for an organization known as the Paranormal Bureau of Investigation.  An organization that hunts down creatures like you and me.”

“What’s your point?”

“I want you to kill them for me.”

Lance’s lip curled in disgust, “Let’s assume I have any intention of humoring you.  Give me one good reason why I should do this.”

“Besides the fact that they would hunt you down and throw you in a cage if they knew what you are?”

Lance shrugged, “Plenty of people have tried to hunt me down before.  No one’s caught me yet.”

“I figured you’d need a bit of extra motivation,” the man pulled out his phone and pulled up an image, “How about this, then?”

Lance’s stomach dropped.  A picture of Keith filled the screen.

“He’s your lover, isn’t he?  Such a handsome boy…It would certainly be a shame if anything unfortunate happened to that lovely face.”

“Listen,” Lance growled, “If you think you can scare me…”

“Not good enough?  How about this, then,”  The man swiped across the screen and an image of two children playing in a backyard slid into view.  The picture was slightly blurry, as though it was taken covertly.

“These are your…oh, what was it?…great-great-grandchildren?  I don’t know how you keep track.  Their names are Nadia and Sylvio, aren’t they?”

“You wouldn’t dare…” whispered Lance.

“You don’t want to know what I would dare to do.”  The man let Lance go.  “You have until Saturday.  If Agents Shirogane and Prince are not dead by then, I will personally track down and kill everyone you love.  Oh, and one more thing,” the man turned and faced Lance once more, “When you do kill those agents, be sure to tell them Lotor sent you.”

***

In addition to its quality coffee and friendly customer service, Mochas & Magic also sold second-hand books.  Allura figured that was as good a place as any to do research on local folklore.

She had decided to perform this particular task solo.  Shiro was busy interviewing Mr. and Mrs. Griffin about the incident and Allura figured she might get better results if she went alone anyway.  If this Colleen woman’s daughter really had information on New Altea’s supernatural population, she might benefit more from a girl-to-girl chat.

As Allura pushed open the door to the coffee shop, she heard Colleen’s voice ring out, “Welcome to Mochas & Magic!  Come on in!”

Colleen was stationed behind the register today.  Beside her was a rather large young man in an apron, sliding trays of blueberry scones into the display case.

“Oh, I remember you,” said Colleen, as Allura approached the counter, “You and that young man were in here yesterday, talking about vampires.”

“Yes, that, uh, that was me,” said Allura, trying to keep her voice down.  The young man in the apron was giving her a strange look.  “You mentioned your daughter knowing a lot about folklore.  I was wondering if I could talk with her for a bit.”

“Well, I’m sure she’d be happy to discuss it with you.  Hunk, do you know where Katie is?”

“I think she’s shelving books right now,” said Hunk, still not taking his eyes off of Allura.

“Thank you,” said Allura, “That’s very helpful of you.”

“Are you writing a YA novel?” said Colleen.

“Hm?”

“Is your research for a YA novel?  We get a lot of authors in here doing research for novels they’re writing.”

“It’s just for a personal project,” said Allura, before making her way to the bookstore section of the shop.

A young woman in her early twenties was stocking the shelves, climbing a stepladder to reach the highest ones.  She had short, brown hair and large, round glasses.

“I’m almost done,” the woman said, “One moment.”

“Are you Katie?” asked Allura.

“Yeah, but you can call me Pidge,” the woman said, stepping down from the ladder, “What can I do for you?”

“I was hoping you could help me find some books on a certain subject,” said Allura, casually scanning the bookshelf nearest to her.

“Depends on the subject, I guess,” said Pidge, “What were you looking for?”

Allura picked up one of the books off the shelf.  The cover was emblazoned with the word Beowulf.  She flipped through the pages idly.  “I’m just looking for information on some of the creatures in this area.”

“Like what?  Foxes and raccoons?”

“More like werewolves and vampires.”

There was the barest flicker of worry on Pidge’s face, but it soon disappeared.  “I hate to disappoint you, ma’am, but creatures like that don’t actually exist.”

“But your mother said people came here to research the subject all the time.”

“Well, yeah, but not like actual researchers.  Cryptid hunters and teen romance novelists, those kinds of people.”

“So you’re saying supernatural beings aren’t actually real?”

“That’s absolutely what I’m saying, yes.”

Without warning, Allura tossed the book she was holding directly at Pidge’s head.  Pidge yelped and held up her hand and the book stopped just short of her face, hovering in midair.

“Are you sure?” said Allura.

Pidge lowered her hand and the book dropped to the ground, falling open, “Well, shit.  You weren’t supposed to see that.”

“Well, now that we’re done with the playacting, we can get straight to business.  What can you tell me about the werewolves in this area?”

But Pidge didn’t seem to be in a cooperative mood at the moment.  “You’re one of the agents who interviewed Keith, aren’t you?” she said.

“So you know Mr. Kogane, do you?  Can you tell me anything about his whereabouts on the night of James Griffin’s death?”

“I knew it!” said Pidge, ignoring her question, “I knew there was some sort of men-in-black thing for supernatural beings.  Are you part of the government?”

“Now who’s being a conspiracy theorist?”

“It’s not a conspiracy theory if you’re right.”

“Look,” said Allura, “I don’t want to accuse your friend any more than you do.  If there’s anything, anything at all you can share with me that might help clear his name, it would go a long way toward helping him.”

Pidge sighed, “Listen, I can’t give you any hard evidence, but whatever you’re looking for, whatever killed Griffin, it’s not a werewolf.”

“I’m not saying I don’t believe you,” said Allura, “but how do you know this?”

“Because I did some scrying.  We went to the place where the body was found and I contacted Griffin’s spirit and saw what he saw when he died.  And let me tell you, it wasn’t a werewolf that killed him.”

“Well, what was it, then?” said Allura, “Can you describe it?”

“It was dark, so Griffin didn’t get a good look at it.  But it was big.  Bigger than a werewolf, that’s for sure.”

“So, a bear?”

Pidge shook her head, “Bigger than that, even.  And it had these horns…”  She held up her hands near her head to illustrate, “And these eyes that glowed and it looked like…like a…”  She glanced down to think and froze.

“Like what?” said Allura.

“Like that.”

Pidge pointed down at the book on the floor by her feet.  It was open to an illustration depicting a huge, horned creature with a human grasped in its enormous hand.  The caption on the page read, “Grendel carrying his prey to his lair”.

For a moment, Pidge and Allura could barely move.  Then, Pidge scooped up the book.  “I have to show this to Hunk.”

“I have to make a phone call,” said Allura as Pidge left the room.

Allura pulled out her cell phone and called Shiro.  “Come on, please pick up, please pick up, it’s important.”

After the second ring, Shiro answered, “Allura?  Something wrong?”

“Shiro, you owe that Kogane kid an apology.”

“Hmm?  Why’s that?”

“Because I think I just figured out what actually killed James Griffin.”

[stickyhearted]

Best Friend

  In which, Y/N loves Harry more than just a best friend, but does Harry feel the same? Or does he just see her as a best friend, and nothing else?

(INSPIRED BY REX ORANGE COUNTY’S “BEST FRIEND” BECAUSE I LOVE HIM TOO)

Word count: 2,469

Warnings: Swearing

-

It was a nice cold Wednesday night and both Harry and Y/N were situated on the couch, blankets wrapped around them as they watched some random movie on Netflix. Chips packets and soda cans were littered around the floor but neither of them couldn’t care less. Y/N looked up at Harry, how his eyes crinkled when he laughed at some stupid unfunny joke that one of the characters said, the way his cheeks flushed a crimson red as a heated scene comes up. 

Subconsciously, Y/N ran her hand through Harry’s hair, which caught his attention. Harry looked down at her, and chuckled at how Y/N quickly removed her hand and looked away with a blush on her cheeks.

“What were you doing, lovely?” Harry laughs, playing with her hair as he kissed her hairline, which made her blush even more. “I don’t know what you’re saying, H.” Y/N replied, as she pretended to pay attention to the movie that was playing in front of them. Harry laughed even harder, finding the situation funny as he nuzzled his face in her neck. Y/N always found comfort whenever Harry did this. She thought that if she couldn’t have him, might as well enjoy the moments where he pretended to be hers.

“C’mon beauty, don’t think I felt that?” Harry questioned against her neck, the vibrations bringing a smile to Y/N’s face. “Fine, I just reaaally like your hair!” Harry looked up at Y/N with a wide smile on his face. They stayed like this for a few seconds before Y/N was lost in the spun of the moment and smashed her lips right unto Harry’s. Y/N pulled away once she realize that Harry wasn’t kissing her back, covering her eyes in embarrassment and annoyance at herself. She might’ve already ruined what they had now, didn’t she? She just had to.

“What the fuck was that?” Harry asked. Although Y/N was already anticipating that reply, she couldn’t help but feel sad that he didn’t reply with the usual “I like you” or “I love you” that most novels write about. Instead, he replied with a harsh tone. “I really- I really fucking like you, H. I’m so sorry.” Y/N replied as tears sprung to her eyes, Harry began to stand up, but Y/N pulled him back in pleads to not let go of their friendship that easily.

“I’m sorry Y/N, but wha-what? I-I don’t like you like that.” Harry harshly replied as he flailed his arm to let go of her touch and walked out of her front door, leaving a sad broken teen who just wanted a little bit of her best friend’s heart.

-

Days and days and days passed as Y/N sulked around her own flat, with a heavy heart. She was dressed in nothing but one of Harry’s hoodies -that he gave to her on her birthday as a joke but she ended up loving it too much and convinced him to give it to her as a present of course- and some plain white socks. She was sobbing non-stop and drank tons of wine to drown herself in the illusion that she wasn’t pained.

It was a usual day for Y/N, same old crying on the floor as she hug the wine bottle closer to her chest and sobbed for the love of God, when her phone suddenly rang, making her cry even more because she certainly didn’t want to talk to anybody- not when she was practically drowning in her own tears and when she can’t speak a single fucking sentence other than “I’m so fucking sorry Harry.”.

She looked over with tears in her eyes as her best friend’s name popped up. She hesitated whether she answer her call or just ignore it until Y/F/N gives up in hopes of talking to her. She ignored it at first and continued with her usual moping around when Y/F/N just wouldn’t stop calling her. She snapped, taking her phone and finally answered her calls.

“What?” Y/N asked as more tears fell off her eyes. Y/F/N was relieved that Y/N answered her calls, she for a second thought that something happened to her and was ready to drive to her flat within a heartbeat. “Y/N you gotta stop moping around, beauty.” Y/F/N rolled her eyes as sobs emitted from Y/N’s lips, sighing as she didn’t know what she’d do. “That’s what he calls me.” More sobs rocked out of Y/N’s mouth as Y/F/N finally decided that she had enough of her best friend’s attitude.

“Stop moping around, for fuck’s sake. I’ll be there in ten, you better stop crying or else I’m literally gonna drag you outside of your flat and under the fucking heat of the sun.”

-

At least Y/N has stopped sobbing now. She sat on the couch as wine bottles still littered around the floor along with tissues which she banished just a few hours ago, thinking that she didn’t need them as she wasn’t planning on meeting anyone for a few days. Tears still escaped her eyes as she stared the blank TV down, thinking about her last moments with Harry on this very fucking couch, which sprung a few more tears to her eyes.

A good ten minutes later, Y/F/N arrived. She gasped at the mess that her best friend likes to call a flat. Y/N once was a very organized person and liked to keep everything in order or else I’ll lose my mind- as Y/N says. But now, her flat is unrecognizable, at least ten wine bottles were scattered on the floor and used tissues lying around- as well as a few chips packets and soda cans. Y/F/N cringed at the sight of her beloved best friend, dressed in a dirty hoodie and dirty socks with dried tears on her once rosy cheeks that now turned pale.

“Oh, Y/N.” Y/F/N sighed as she made her way over to her best friend, taking her in for a hug as sobs emitted from her lips. “I don’t k-know why I-I’m making su-such a bi-big deal out o-of this.” Y/N stuttered as Y/F/N shh’d her, moving themselves back in forth in an attempt to calm her hurting best friend. “It’s okay, dearest. I’ll clean this place up and you can go ahead and take a warm refreshing bath and get yourself tidied up. Were going out.” Y/F/N replied as she started picking up the chip packets that were lying around in the floor.

A good one hour and a half later, Y/F/N finally finished cleaning up the whole damn flat and she swore that she’d cut off the genitals of whoever breaks the heart of her best friend again because a sad and broken hearted Y/N was very hard to deal with. Y/F/N missed the usual cheery and perky Y/N that used to spam her with unfunny memes and tons of heart emojis at every time of the day. Her mission was to bring back that Y/N, but how was she going to?

Y/N finally went out of her bedroom, dressed in nothing but jeans and a sweater. “Fucking hell, Y/N. You took one and a half hour to dress up in fucking jeans and a sweater? It’s bloody sixty degrees outside!” Y/F/N exclaimed as Y/N did nothing but stare at her. “I had to take one hour and twenty minutes to silently cry my ass out.” Y/N mumbled, as she made her way over to the couch and sat herself down. “Fine, just bloody wear clean your face or some shit, you don’t need to go to the club with dried tears and dried snot.”

-

Y/N and Y/F/N finally arrived at the club. Y/F/N along the way informed Y/N that their friends were going to be there in hopes to cheer Y/N. She just nodded, looking out the window. Y/N went out of the car and entered the crowded club. She sighed, knowing she’d have to deal with a bunch of blokes and that’s the last thing she’d want right now. Both Y/N and Y/F/N sat down the red cushions that their friends were situated at, mouths agape at the appearance of their best friend who used to be so smiley and cheerful- but now looked like she was dead inside, wearing a black sweater than compliment her dark soul.

“Hey guys.” Y/N mumbled as she looked down, already feeling the stupid tears coming back to make Y/N look like a fool. “Let’s get this party started, then.” Y/F/N mumbled as they started talking to each other, oblivious of their still moping best friend. Y/N was looking down at her phone the whole time, re-reading some of the old messages that she and Harry once shared. Others made her half-heartedly laugh and some others brought a smile to her face. 

“I really should’ve just stayed at home.” Y/N mumbled as she took her glass of water and sipped it. “We know you would’ve just drowned yourself in your tears and his perfume, Y/N. Fuck’s sake we wouldn’t leave you like that. What kind of best friends would we be?” Tyler asked, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, but I see people that love the shit out of me but I can’t help but feel alone.” Y/N replied, looking down. “I mean yeah, the “we love the shit out of you” part is accurate but the alone part isn’t. Were always here for your moping ass.” Karen replied, earning a laugh from the rest of the group. “Well thanks for that, Karen.” Y/N rolled her eyes, even tho they wouldn’t see her cause she was looking down. The rest of the group started talking about stuff that she wasn’t interested in, so she just resumed reading the texts that bother her and Harry shared.

Y/N looked up after what seemed like an eternity, the back of her head already hurting and so is her eyes, from the constant staring at her phone. She looked around her, seeing her friends laughing at some vine they saw on twitter brought a smile on her face, she can’t help but feel lucky to have these sods as best friends, and that is until, she looks behind her. And of-fucking-course, she’d see the last person she’d ever want to see.

“Bloody fucking hell, Jesus Christ!” Y/N screamed angrily as she harshly placed her cup of water on the table in front of them, catching the attention of her best friends. “What?” Alex, one of Y/N friends asked. They all looked up, seeing the bloke that broke their best friend’s heart saunter over to Y/N. 

“Y/N.” Harry spoke as he caught his breath. Karen stood up, ready to fight Harry but Y/F/N stopped her, letting her sit back down before starting to to speak up. “

“What do you want from her, Harry? Couldn’t you see you already fucking broke her heart? Couldn’t you at least have the decency to just leave her alone?” Y/F/N sneered at him. Harry gulped, he knew he messed up but by telling him that he doesn’t feel the same was just plain stupidity at it’s best. After realizing how hard it was to not have Y/N by his side, he was ready to do anything just to earn her back again.

“Y/N, can I talk to you?” Harry asked, “Just leave her alone, mate.” Tyler glared at him. “It’s okay, Ty.” Y/N sighed as she stood up. It might be stupid of her to think this, but she hoped that Harry would’ve came here to apologize and maybe already confess his love for Y/N. “Are you sure, Y/N?” Alex asked, “you know we could always accompany you in case this bloke tries to do somethin’ else.” Alex continued, as he glared at Harry. “It’s okay, I can handle it by myself.”

-

“What would you like to talk about?” Y/N spoke out after the deep silence that they both were in. Harry cleared his throat as he scratched the back of his head, a thing he’d always do if he was nervous or anxious. “I’m sorry.” He spoke out, seeing Y/N close her eyes and look away, broke his heart too. “I just don’t want to hear it, H. You don’t have to apologize for not liking me back. You could’ve been mine and I could’ve been yours. But we weren’t meant to be and I wasn’t made for you and you weren’t made for me. Though it seemed so fucking easy.” Y/N sadly spoke out, closing her eyes in hopes to keep the unwanted tears away. She couldn’t afford crying in front of the boy who just broke her heart.

Harry nodded for her to continue, wanting to hear her cry out as he thought of something to make it all alright again. “I wanted to be your favorite girl. The one whom you think about as you lie away, the one who makes your day and your food too.” Y/N chuckled, “I couldn’t wait to be your number one and I guess my selfishness was what drove our friendship to the rear end.” Y/N laughed.

“You’re still my favorite girl.” Harry spoke out, making Y/N look up to him. He scooted closer, “You better fucking trust me when I tell you there isn’t any single person in this damn world that is more beautiful than you, Y/N. I know I fucked up, badly, but when I tell you that I regret every single thing about what I said that day, you best believe the shit out of me.” Harry continued, earning a giggle from Y/N. The sound alone made him giddy and happy and he couldn’t help but feel accomplished for even making her smile. “I, too, wanna be your most favorite fucking boy in this world, I wanna be the one that makes your days, the one you think about as you lie awake. And I can’t wait to be your number one. I’ll be your biggest fan and you’ll be mind but I still wanna break your heart and make you cry.” Harry exclaimed. Y/N looked at him with such awe and it took him everything to just not slam his lips against hers the way she did that day. “But you just copied what I said, reversed it and added a few words.” Y/N pouted. “But what if that was the point?” Harry laughed, nuzzling his face in Y/N’s neck like the day she kissed him.

“At least you know that I love you.” He said, locking eyes with her and intertwining both of their hands together. “Hell fucking yes I do. Hope you also know I love you so much and just wanna hug you to death and pepper you with love and kisses every single for the rest of your life.” Y/N replied, “Violent one, aren’t ya?” Harry laughed as he leaned in, Y/N leaned it too before Harry mumbled a “fuck it” and just smashed their lips together.

He just might be the one.

-

OKAY FUCK I JUST LITERALLY COPIED SONG LYRICS I AM SOOOOOO SORRY FOR BEING UNORIGINAL BUT WHAT CAN I DOOOOOOOO! Hope you enjoyed this long ass imagine that I wrote. Had to skip a family reunion just to write this lmao. I frickin’ love Alex that’s why I made this, just was a tad bit inspired by his music. Anyways, as I said, hope you enjoyed this! Next story will be uploaded tomorrow. Have a great day! Xx

[memnonofarcadia]

The Food Chain Diary

3 December – Location unknown, I’ll be honest But my guides know, and that’s how I’m getting home at the end of this, one way or another. They don’t want to stay here longer than they have to, and I agree. Despite how grand civilization can make a fella feel it only takes one short trip to the Arctic, to real tundra to understand why civilization was built in the first place. Out there on the ice and snow the homo sapiens is, in essence, a slow moving free meal. With the exception of larger hunting parties (who still operate with an unhealthy degree of risk as it is) if you go out there unarmed or even remotely underprepared then there is little chance of anyone ever seeing you again. That is, till you get dug up in the Spring after most of the snow has melted. Say what you will about the grimness of the bodies on Everest, but at least they’ve got company. We’re not on Everest though, this is Northern Canada, beginning in what was once British Columbia, but now is something far, far more savage to the eye. If you’ve never been there before then the culture shock might kill you; best to ease your way into Mooseland slowly. They say there are moose in the Rockies but I don’t know if I really believe that one. I’ve never seen them, but here I saw one on our first day. Caribou too. Pity this wasn’t a hunting party, like I said. A good haul could feed a family for a year, maybe more if it were rationed. But no one wants to live like that, not when there are microwaves in the kitchen. It’s so cold out here. I can hardly think. It only makes sense to start at the beginning, since now, in my current state, hunched over like a bloody gargoyle writing this, it’s difficult to think of the next word, much less the next point. I’m in a tent, shrouded in many layers of warm clothing and blankets, but it’s never enough. Until you’re in the sleeping bag, preferably one that can accommodate two bodies, then the cold you will feel. Bites through anything you might have to protect you from it. Anything. Makes me reevaluate Huskies and other snow-dogs, how they not only survive but relish in the climate. Makes me wonder if Jack London only wrote fiction back then, as well. This hurts. To put it bluntly I needed a break. It had been a good few years on the beat of “nature-reporting” without much past the working class paycheck to paycheck lifestyle. It builds character, and indeed if you want to teach someone the ways of the world then a minimum wage job in some shithole will do it as well as anything, but… I’m not interested in developing something I can’t sell, at least then I wasn’t. Rent had to come first, so it did. The trick, I decided one night at an airport bar (it was dark out so we’ll say night. Truth be told it was closer to four or five AM when I had my last), was to find a lead that not everyone would be able to get. Something so good, so exclusive, that whatever nature-thing it got pitched to would have to take it on the spot. More than that, if I went out and got the article first I could practically name my price, within reason of course. If I got a juicer on my first time ‘round then they might throw me a bone and send me to Brazil to look at some toucans. But I didn’t pick Brazil, because everyone went there, and there was no way to make it in that market. In my infinite wisdom, on that greasy plastic/wooden stool, rewarding myself indiscriminately, I chose to find my way up North, to the real Arctic. People went out there, sure, but past the locals it wasn’t because anyone wanted to. Everyone wanted to be in Brazil, remember? So did I, so once I was clear of any obligations I made plans to fly my butt out there to earn my place. Don’t get me wrong now, I did my research and made sure to pack the required gear, Jack London hadn’t been for nothing after all, but even still as I waited for the taxi to bring me to the airport I wasn’t exactly brimming with hubris. In the same way that resolutions made after midnight never stick, travel plans made under the influence are consistently regrettable. Jesus, what had I been thinking? Maybe if I drank some more I could reconnect with my inner-idiot and find out what exactly, but after half a bottle of wine and God knows how many beers the flight attendant cut me off. She had seen it too many times before to feel sorry for me, tourists who were going somewhere they just remembered they didn’t want to be. Oh well, shouldn’t have bought the ticket then, but I digress. The company chosen to take me on my little trip through the Arctic was handled by two brothers, both fanatic outdoorsmen who were happy to bring a novice like me out and about. Lovely, I thought. A real homegrown thing they had going on there, very nice. They’d even offered to pick me up from the airport, which was very kind, and since I was paying my own bills on this one I took them up on it. Their names were Tom and Pete, which I took to mean they would look like the Canadian stereotype I had in my head: extremely friendly, beer-loving, hockey-worshipping, beaver-hugging folk of the North who walked around in jerseys drinking coffee all day long. However this theory was pretty spectacularly blown out of the water when Pete came to pick me up. He had a little sign with my name on it, and he was dressed in casual-outdoors gear, not ready to head out quite yet but give him 20 and he’d meet you there. What disturbed me greatly wasn’t his garb, or even his frankly rippling physique, but the series of scars that ran from the top of his scalp – where hair used to be – down to below his chin. His toasty smile made me feel welcome, but his weeping eye tore the knots in my stomach apart into open despair. They could take me wherever they liked, obviously, this was their domain, but now I knew that there was only so much they could do to protect me. When something wants you dead out there in the flat, then you’re dead. Bear don’t care, or so Pete told me himself. On the two hour car ride out to where the three of us would spend the night he regaled me with stories of adventures past, far too many to ever hope to write down here, but here’s the gist: “Yeah, see, my brother Tom, he’s the one up at the cabin right now getting everything ready, yeah see we’ve been out doing this thing now for the better part of 15 years, and I tell you ain’t nothing scarier I seen in that time than a 500 pound grizzly hauling ass straight at me. Had my rifle but it was broke from a wolf the night before, which is another story, so it was me with basically a club against this killing machine!” “Is that how…?” I gestured towards his scars, seeing an opportunity to get the scoop. Pete just chuckled. “No no no, that was from the time I almost got gored by a deer,” he said, touching the marks on his head tenderly, like a thing to be preserved. “If a bear gets you you’re dead. That’s kind of the end of it. But back to what I was saying about that last one, it charged me, full on, bat out of hell, and then about three quarters way through it just stops, turns around, and strolls off chilled as you like,” “So…?” I struggled to get the words out, searching for some kind of moral in his God-fueled nightmare. “So, it was a fake-out. Elephants do the same thing I hear, they might charge you but they don’t always go for the kill,” “Like a rattle snake has its rattle?” “Exactly,” Pete said, slapping the steering wheel happily. “Now you’re gettin’ it,” Jesus. Even now as I write this, out in the actual place we were talking about, I’m sure I still don’t “get it” 100%, but I’m also not sure if I ever want to. Not for someone as pasty as I. That was the scene as we pulled into the cabin and met up with Tom, who, barring the lack of scarring, was a virtual clone of his brother. At least it wouldn’t be hard to tell the twins apart, I joked sourly to myself. That first night it was pitch dark by the time we arrived, and the brothers informed me that it’s better to start in the morning, which I wasn’t complaining about. I didn’t want to start at all. We played cards and, yes, indulged in one or two bottles of the frothy good stuff but nothing preventative. If I was going to suffer it would be sober, I resolved. For the good of the article. For the paycheck. Only in hindsight is it obvious that I should have either brought a camera or coughed up the dough to bring a photographer along with me, for no words will ever do the robust architectures of the Cold World justice. The sky, the mountains, the crest, slopes, hills, and all the endless flora and fauna are simply impossible to put into words, not accurately anyway. So I won’t bother here, because it won’t work. Believe me or don’t, but the following is my take on the landscape of the barren North: there is little doubt that the reason for its deadliness is its beauty, for the Gods knew no man alone should possess such a thing. Leave it to the beasts and the wildmen, the things that have nowhere else to go. I mentioned this idea to Pete and Tom, but they didn’t respond, merely smiling at the thought. “Maybe that’s just the world, brother,” Tom finally said. Maybe. Or maybe it’s some mushy-gushy greeting card BS. Not my department either way, thankfully. All told it was only a total of two days (or three, if you count the first night at the cabin) that was spent traversing the landscape, keeping a steely eye out for predators and such. Tom was pointing out different tracks and kinds of scat to follow while Pete could look at a scene and tell you probably what happened: the weather pushed the snow up like this, critters burrowed down here, a predator sniffed them out and got one or two but the rest got away. All from shapes in the snow and the aforementioned scat. Where was I anymore? I couldn’t fathom it, still can’t. There is this world that we choose to ignore, that I do, and the irony is that the knowledge of its existence only drives you further away, unless you were an animal or a wildman, again. For as intense as it all got, what with the awful nights and exhausting days, the beauty and serenity and wonder always remained, even for a layman like me. At one point Pete spotted some tracks and called Tom over to see what he thought. Not more than a few seconds of thought went into it before they both turned around to me and announced that we were going back the way we came, we’re not in any danger but we were going back. I nodded and turned around to trudge back along the same path I’d followed those two on, marked by footprints in the snow. This isn’t really going anywhere, and the wind is picking up outside, again. The brothers discussed it and one of them is going to keep watch overnight, making a little igloo-type configuration in front of the tent. “But we’re not in any danger, not in the middle of camp like this,” Pete reassured me. I nodded and went back to whatever it was I was doing, probably nothing. Clearly since you’re reading this we all made it home okay, but it’s worth mentioning that that was what my last night in the Arctic was like, cold, stunned, often afraid, but never alone, even by myself.

[preservationandruin]

Oathbringer Liveblog, Part Four: Chapters 88-92

Part Four: Defy! Sing Beginnings! 

Interesting. Both in this and the prior title, we get what almost sounds like part of a poem. There’s a massive, massive list of POVs here: Adolin, Shallan, Kaladin, Dalinar, Navani, Szeth, Taravangian, and Venli. Hoo boy. 

A group of our heroes are on a very strange road trip, and we touch in with Szeth and his sword, who is sulking. 

Another flashback, this time to eight years ago. He’s still...not over the Rift. Obviously. You never get over something like that. When he just looks at people, this happens: 

He saw fires reflected in their eyes, and heard the weeping of children in the back of his mind.  Don’t be weak, Dalinar thought. It’s been almost three years.  Three years, living with what he’d done. Three years, wasting away in Kholinar. He’d assumed it would get better.  It was only getting worse. 

Sadeas managed to fucking pull a spin job on them putting a town to the torch by saying the fire itself had been an accident and their hands had been forced due to the “killing of Dalinar’s wife.” 

Bullshit. But it worked--the message here is that Gavilar doesn’t want to send Dalinar on missions, because who knows what could happen? Nobody wants that. So everyone will go out of their way to give Gavilar any option that is not fighting. 

So efficient. All it had cost was one city. And possibly Dalinar’s sanity. 

Here we were thinking that Gavilar’s death was what broke Dalinar--and it did, in part, but he’d also broken long,  long ago. Dalinar can’t stand to be in the same room as fire anymore. He can’t stay in his own keep anymore. 

Renarin is burning incense in their rooms--the same scent Evi liked. I’ll bet this is Renarin’s way of mourning, but...I can’t imagine that Dalinar will take that well. Dal, if you’re shitty to Renarin at all I will find a way to go back in time and manifest in the cosmere and kick your ass. 

He can’t find any wine--he thinks Gavilar may have moved it, although he says he only drinks “on bad days.” I...doubt that. I’ve literally heard the excuses of alcoholics, and that’s one of the main ones. 

He can’t even really interact with Adolin. Adolin says he has a duel set up, he’s fifteen and cheerful and thrilled and: 

Emotions warred inside of Dalinar. Memories of good years spent with his son in Jah Keved, riding or teaching him the sword.  Memories of her. The woman from whom Adolin had inherited that blond hair and that smile. So genuine. Dalinar wouldn’t trade Adolin’s sincerity for a hundred soldiers in proper uniforms. But he also couldn’t face it right now.

So he admonishes Adolin for not acting like a proper soldier. Because he wanted to be excited at his dad about getting a duel set up. Because he wanted Dalinar to be proud of him. 

There’s a beggar on the beggar’s porch called Ahu, a strange man who always has a bottle. Dalinar goes to find him; he calls Dalinar “little child.” And he’s ethnically strange, too dark to be Alethi. 

...DID DALINAR GO GET WASTED WITH ONE OF THE HERALDS ON THE REGULAR?????

“How are the voices?”  “Soft, today. They chant about ripping me apart. Eating my flesh. Drinking my blood.” 

DALINAR ABSOLUTELY GOT WASTED ON THE REGULAR WITH ONE OF THE HERALDS. JESUS CHRIST. 

“Which one got to you, child? The Black Fisher? The Spawning Mother, the Faceless? Moelach is close. I can hear his wheezing, his scratching, his scraping at time like a rat breaking through walls.”  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”  “Madness,” Ahu said, then giggled. “I used to think it wasn’t my fault. But you know, we can’t escape what we did? We let them in. We attracted them, befriended them, took them out to dance and courted them. It is our fault. You open yourself to it, and you pay the price. They ripped my brain out and made it dance! I watched.” 

Yeah. Definitely a Herald, talking about the unmade, talking about how humans draw them to them, about how you have to let them in, just like you have to let the Voidbringers out. They wait for you to be vulnerable, and they make you vulnerable, and then they take and take and take. 

And he gets back and hears Adolin talking to Gavilar about how worried he is about Dalinar. Oh, that’s heartbreaking. Elhokar is there too--Dalinar is surprised that Elhokar isn’t a child anymore. He calls Dalinar a drunken fool, and we get that Gavilar didn’t remove the wine--Dalinar already drank it all. 

Adolin snaps at Elhokar; Gavilar has to calm them down, assuring them that Dalinar will fight through it. Dalinar goes to ignore them, collapsing on the nearest couch. 

We get a bit of a map of “the sea of lost lights,” which I’ll bet is another name for Shadesmar. Unclear whose it is, but it has notes in it like “I hate this lake” and “I managed to ride a manda from here to there so you owe me money” so like, could be Nazh, could be Wit, could be another shithead worldhopper. 

An Adolin viewpoint, and epigraphs here are from the Mythica, the book on the Unmade. I’m so glad we’re getting good information on them. 

Adolin is like 99% sure he’s in Damnation, which, no, but you could get there from here, I’m pretty sure Braize can be accessed from Shadesmar it’s only like one planet over. 

Adolin tries to summon his Shardblade and the spren with scratched-out eyes screeches at him, pretty much confirming my hunch about who it is. It’s his sword’s spren, isn’t it. 

“That is your sword,” Pattern said in a perky voice. He had no mouth that Adolin could see. “Hmmmm. She is quite dead. I don’t think you can summon her here.”

God, Pattern must be so unnerving to Adolin. Hi here’s this vaguely eldritch-looking creature with no visible face. He’s always chipper and thinks you’re nice and, although you don’t know it, was considering marrying you for a moment. 

The fact that Pattern got excited about that line still kills me. 

They try to get Kaladin to do something and Syl is just standing by him, a hand protectively on his back, going “Kaladin’s not well.” She’s trying so hard to protect him. I love Kaladin and Syl. 

Anyway, a giant claw shoots up out of the sea of beads--the physical form of the Unmade. Yike. 

More emerged in other directions. An enormous hand was reaching slowly upward through the glass beads. Deep beneath them a heartbeat began sounding, rattling the beads. 

Adolin, still understandably freaked-out, stumbles and comes face-to-face with the eyeless spren of his sword again. He is very, very sure he’s in hell right now. 

We cut over to Shallan, the only one there with the surge of Soulcasting and thus the one most likely to get them a boat. Unfortunately, Pattern says that soulcasting something here might not actually work. She manages to use a shield’s bead to make a solid replica of it out of stormlight and beads--one that Pattern can jump up and down on without sinking. 

“You,  sword lady!” Shallan said,  pointing at Azure. “Help me over here. Adolin, you too. Kaladin, see if you can brood this place into submission.” 

Shallan is repressing pretty much everything again, focusing on the task at hand. She finds souls--spren of swords, who feel that they’ve failed if their owners have fallen. For a moment, she finds Drehy the bridgeman, panicking--but he’ll have to find his way through alone. She manages to make a copy of the Oathgate control building, letting them climb onto its roof. She basically uses a door and a building to make progressive stepping-stones, letting them get to the river. 

So the Oathgate in Kholinar is corrupted, but it looks like Sja-anat succeeded in trying not to kill them. They didn’t end up in a great place, but they’re alive. Meanwhile, Adolin is feeling useless--understandably. But he helps Kaladin move along. 

“Hey,” Adolin said. “It will be alright.”  “I survived Bridge Four,” Kaladin growled. “I’m strong enough to survive this.”  “I’m pretty sure you could survive anything. Storms, bridgeboy, the Almighty used some of the same stuff he put in Shardblades when he made you.” 

That is simultaneously the most heartwarming and most badass compliment i have ever heard. 

Adolin keeps talking to Kaladin--Kaladin snaps and asks why, and Adolin admits that he talks when he’s frightened. Adolin works to keep Kaladin talking and keep him moving, though, which is good. Kal’s in shock right now. He needs something to keep him going and hey--out of the lot of them there, Adolin’s the one who’s best at empathy and intuition. 

Azure followed, her shoulders sagging. In fact, her...her hair was fading. It was the strangest thing; Adolin watched it dim from Alethi jet-black to a faint grey as she sat down. Must be another effect of this strange place. 

Nope, that’s just that’s she’s Vivenna. 

Also, although Adolin is saying that he’s useless,  he’s the one insisting that they camp because Azure, Shallan, and Kaladin are all exhausted. He finds a good place, he gets them to move and set up. He’s...he’s good at this. I love Adolin. 

Adolin: I’m useless Adolin: is singlehandedly keeping the group focused and together

Adolin also realizes that, um...he’s third in line to the throne, and little Gav is gone, and Dalinar has abdicated--meaning that technically, Adolin is king of Alethkar. 

Yikes. 

Anyway, we’re over to Szeth! Who we haven’t heard from in a while. Apparently, in restoring him, Nale was almost too late and Szeth’s soul didn’t attach right to his body. Those who are close to the Surges see him leave a glowing afterimage as he moves, which is, I admit, a little creepy. Also, Nightblood is talking to Szeth again and remains, well, nightblood: 

You should draw me, Szeth! I would love to see the lake. Vasher says there are magic fish here. Isn’t that interesting?

I love Nightblood. 

Anyway, Szeth is like “this sword is an interesting test from Nale, I don’t know what it’s supposed to teach me yet, but--” and I’m like. Nale was just sick of Nightblood yelling in his head and pawned it off on you Szeth it’s not a test it’s Nale just trying to get rid of constant excited sword noises in the back of his head. 

Anyway, we get that Szeth is not entirely sane--he’s hearing whispers in the spiritual realm of the people he’s killed, and they keep him up at night, sobbing. Also, Nightblood has Opinions of the superior Skybreakers. 

“Hopefuls,” [Ki] said in Azish, “you have been brought here because a full Skybreaker has vouched for your dedication and solemnity.”  She’s boring, the sword said. Where did Nale go? “You said he was boring too, sword-nimi,” Szeth whispered.  That’s true, but interesting things happen around him. We need to tell him that you should draw me more often. 

Nightblood also complains that Vasher always drew him, which...is untrue. Of course. But hey, Nightblood is sulky. Apparently, nobody has sworn all five of the Skybreaker ideals in centuries--although I suspect that might have something to do with how rigid and unyielding a system the Skybreakers have. 

The ideals are as follows--The Ideal of Radiance, which is the first one; the Ideal of Justice, to seek and administer it; the Ideal of Dedication, requiring having bonded a highspren, after which they’re taught Division as a surge; the Fourth is Crusade, choosing and completing a personal quest to the satisfaction of a highspren. The fifth is to become the Law, to become truth--no wonder a group so dedicated to following the law is having trouble. 

I don’t know if anyone else in here reads Discworld, but Sam Vimes absolutely has all of those ideals down. Especially the last one. Hell, a Sammy is what they call a cop in Ankh-Morpork. Although Sam is probably not the kind of Skybreaker Nale is looking for. 

Nightblood is still sulking. 

Anyway, over to Kaladin. The Mythica says that the Unmade were almost definitely still spren. 

Kal is flashing back to when he was in Amaram’s army, a time he froze on the front lines and was assigned to crem-clearing duty. Kal says he didn’t freeze because he was scared of getting hurt, it was because he was scared of hurting someone else; Tukks, his sergeant, notes that that’s a different problem, says he manages it because his squad is like his family, and he can’t let them down. But he didn’t tell Tukks the truth. It wasn’t that he was scared he was going to hurt someone. It was because he had realized that he could, if he needed to, and that terrified him. 

All shadows, in Shadesmar, point toward the sun. Syl comes over to sit by Kal, in the present day, while the others are still asleep. She thinks it’s strange that Pattern is so nice. Kaladin is refusing to talk about the real problem, though--the fact that he froze up in battle. 

Over to Szeth again. He’s seeking down a convict who escaped into a lake; they have tattoos on their foreheads marking them. Much like Kaladin, then. Szeth suspects the test is of more than that, though--because if it was just about “how fast can you kill the guilty,” it wouldn’t be much of a test. 

Szeth says that he knew a voice in his mind like Nightblood’s, when he was young, but that “he hopes things go better this time.” Hm. Was he going to be a Radiant even then? Was he being pushed to talk about having visions of the Desolation? 

Hard to say. 

Anyway, Nightblood is getting irritated at the lack of killing evil that is happening. A convict was hiding and jumps out at Szeth; he stops himself from killing him, knowing that he needs to question him instead. Anyway, Szeth is almost being drowned in the Purelake, which is great. And he drops Nightblood. 

And, given that it’s Nightblood, the convict instantly grabs for it. Good old Nightblood, drawing evil to it. Szeth paralyzes the man and leaves him to drown, saying it’s less cruel than the alternative--feeding him to a greatshell. 

Vivenna used to tell me that cruelty is only for men, as is mercy. Only we can choose one or the other, and beasts cannot. “You count yourself as a man?”  No. But sometimes she talked like she did. And after Shashara made me, she argued with Vasher, saying I could be a poet or a scholar. Like a man, right? Shashara? That sounded like Shalash, the Eastern name for the Herald Shush-daughter-God. So perhaps this sword’s origin was with the Heralds. 

Close, but no. Interesting that Shashara’s name is so similar to Shalash, but we know Shalash is alive and Shashara is dead from Warbreaker. Szeth figures out how horribly-maintained the prison was and that there was only one guard, and that nobody stopped them from making weapons. 

Szeth turned from him to Ki. “Do you have a writ of execution for this man?”  “It is the first we obtained.” 

There’s the test. Not “catch the criminals,” but “find out who the true lawbreaker is, find out how this happened.” 

And Szeth draws Nightblood. Colors change around him, Szeth’s skin is in pain, and the entire poor nobleman vanishes into smoke. His hand, which he used to wield it, has been bleached grey-white. He’ll need some stormlight for that. 

Anyway, we get that Nightblood--of course--forgets when he’s been drawn and also doesn’t really have a good sense of time. Or scale. Or...well. He’s Nightblood. 

Anyway, Ki has decided to take Szeth on as her squire. Turns out there was an argument among the Skybreakers over who got to, because he’s clearly one of the best of the hopefuls. 

Szeth nodded. “I swear to seek justice, to let it guide me, until I find a more perfect Ideal.”  “These words are accepted,” Ki said. 

That’s...that’s an interesting way to swear an oath. Until I find a more perfect Ideal. Well, it’s very Szeth-esque. Also, he’s got the sky back now!!!

[whimsically-ominously-auspice]

Im playing my online farming game and I hear "come on guys. Let's go. Time to quit playing around. Mom has people waiting -- like the whole world for our results"

Well it's been 7 hours since the last update and about 6 since they got that larger batch going

Chasity: the UV is doing better than i expected, I'm pleasantly surprised but it's also worse than i thought.

So she explains to me that it is easy to kill but it develops very quickly as it ages but its not harder to kill. Like a fine wine it goes down quick.

Chasity: mom you play too Much. So as it ages it does become slower to kill but it's not easier nor harder just longer.

Me: that's weird

Chasity: yep. We had several different people test it. And the results were all the same But it was milliseconds however we are spraying directly onto a a Petri dish, an antiseptic/antiviral/antibacterial that is prescription for lab use only and so in real life out in the air we don't know the actual results as far as in time - at this time. But we are only 12 hours into the testing phase -- first we had to confiscate the correct virus -- which we did about midnight last night but we didn't really want to test it unless there was an interest and to prove the "PRESIDENT" wrong is an interest. At least for us here in this lab. Because we Are scientist and not idiots. And so to find out how about air we have to spray it into a confined room we have here in the lab and it will show how fast it dies airborne or if it remains air borne past the allowable spray. So like is it just sprayed then falls like the one mom had created (on "accident" through George Bush) so its not airborne or does it remain air borne like the COVID and COVID-19. which once again if you have COVID-19 you cannot get COVID, I've tested it here in this lab they do not interact -- mom what do you call it? A one way window?

Me: yeah because i tried to explain the one way pathway but George Bush didn't understand... He doesn't understand that blood flows one direction through the body from left to right he just thinks the blood goes back and forth in the same blood tube. Like a two way street and so he argued with me and so i explained it as a one way and two way window and he was all "the only one getting arrested here is you. I've proved I'm not smart enough to do all this! Twice!! Just to you!" And he leaned over the table And whispered "And all my life to the secret service" he makes it fun to screw him over to make the perfect virus to kill aliens. To get them off our planet. But to keep humans safe!! And so yes one way mirror.

Chasity: oh that is too funny. That is all i wanted to hear you say, that hes dumb. Your memory is perfect!

Me: so how is the humidity going?

Chasity: sucks fast growing and not easy to kill. But! It does die in about 5 whole seconds and not milliseconds like the UV

Me: so people should feel safe to hang their clothes on the line?

Chasity: oh yeah! Exactly! But they should know the virus can spread in the sun and the UV aka sun won't kill them but it should be safe if it's not like apartment living and its in a private location. It would be better watched to dry in the sun with a fan on an extension cord in a barricaded outdoor place and if you hear someone cough while your clothes are outside you should spray Lysol for at least 2 seconds immediately directly onto the clothes. At least that's what I would do, stay outside with them listening for a cough or discreet spray from a hoodlum or terrorist which is the same now a days. While reading a book and catching some rays myself with sunscreen and sunglasses of course -- in the privacy of my own yard which is allowed even in Spain.

Wendy: so what is the safety? I'll answer that myself. Very very bad. The one mom had was very digital and not many were getting sick from just the Corona. This one however is very bad in just the way it makes any one everywhere very sick and the rate it multiplies. Mom waited too long to close the labs but she stopped one that was 10 times worse and presumed to kill within hours if not just a few days. Like 3 or 4 immediate death. This one now isn't designed to kill, its like mom's. But this one she stopped on Tuesday was like COVID But for every one. It was true Hell. Luckily JuJu pissed her off and she ordered it closed. Otherwise my dad would be dead and probably millions if not billions. They had the orders up,boxed and ready to ship, they just wanted to test on a human first -- my dad.

Long story short. JuJu was the test dummy..

Wendy: yeah! And he died in 4 short hours! My dad wouldn't even had time to get home and would died in his car on the road and it would looked like a generic car accident! So yeah fuck JuJu. I'll kick his ass.

Me: sounds like you did

Wendy: no that was you! Once you posted he committed suicide he knew it was a cover up Because you were just going to have him murdered so he just drank it on his own. That's what i saw.

Me: he hates women so much he committed suicide so that i couldn't have the honor of killing him. Well he only proved women are always right which has Always been my fight with him. Well we won in the end! Hoorah!

Wendy: like 17 people committed suicide that night!

Chasity: Mostly by poisons. They didn't wanna go to jail And wanted control over their own death.

Me: over all death. That's why we always tried to stop them but that was dam sneaky on JuJu

Chasity: he said it was an antidote mom so we didn't know what to do

Me: don't listen to the lab people. I said there is no cure.

Chasity: but for the Corona because we knew there was a new variant for the President of the United State's request because he's mad he is going to die of COVID. I told y'all we needed a human!

Me: well just kill any thing the Corona Variant 2 is mild

Chasity: just a wet cough. But dad got it worse than you so we we're kinda scared.

Me: well i got it at Allsups and I'm nearly over it. As long as i take cough medicine. And fever. Its less than the modern day cold and flu. Corona is literally a joy to have over regular sinus infections and bronchitis. Shit i been sick from that crap they've let loose on their labs. For months sick. This is a wonder virus. So nice to have compared to 2013 and 2014. There was no emergency anything but the cold medicine aisle was wiped out all kinds. People were sick and dying! This? I'm all sleep for awhile, cough take medicine and that's it.

Chasity: yeah well dad had it really bad i thought he was going to die

Me: but he was working out exercise and working and

Chasity: doing cardio and all. See dad? You should stay with mom. She would take care of you. Stay in bed and have chicken soup, a few push ups and repetitive weights and back to bed. You don't have to reply but I hope you're listening.

Brian: shit she takes care of me like I'm a beast! Don't touch me! Breathe over there! We will lay back to back so you know I'm here but no breathy stuff. You want sex? Die first So i don't catch what you got then come back to life after. She is funny tho. I don't mind her so much. That last time i was sick and she was with me i was all "i feel great let me go running!" Then i went back and begged her to never let me do that again!

Chasity: you wanted to die huh?

Brian: she put me in a cool bath and I fell asleep. And I woke up and she was adding hot water. Which made me sleep more. But she left me in there alone while I was asleep! She said I was too tall to drown unless she tried to kill me so she just stopped any one but the little girls from going in. But she covered me with a towel so they couldn't see my junk in the front. And i thought it was a blanket and I was all "oh she's so sweet to bring me a blankie. What the fuck! It's wet who did this to me?! Oh that water is hot. Ouch. Good thing I'm asleep that ain't me. I always turn my own water on. No girl would bathe me. Just ask JuJu Bee. Im too ugly but then again she tells,him she calls him that because bees only sting once and Then they die and she's been stung and she's just waiting for him to die and JuJu because there's no Jesus for what he's done and over all jujuBe candy is good for nothing with no nutrient value and he should shut his face or she's gonna kick it in. What a chick. Hand me that wet towel back I'm getting cold" and you know she told me "it's hot you can't tell the difference of the temperature and the towel is in your lap you never handed it out. But some things you see in your dreams are real. Your body just doesn't know it." And I seriously woke up and I shrieked "are you trying to burn me like in that book with the grandma? You're trying to burn my balls off?!?" And I heard all this laughter but I saw her face looking directly at me not at all amused but slightly sad and I got really scared "why are you such a nightmare?!?!" I seriously shrieked and i thought she would cry but she started to laugh and she got up from the edge of the tub and suddenly a rubber ducky started to float in the tub and I grabbed her arm and said "no babe look!! Did you turn into a duck?!?! No I'm grabbing your arm what am I thinking?!" And she looked down into my eyes real deep like she does and she says "you're real beautiful don't you know?" And i let go of her arm "go on go pee. But what is that laughing you have a tape recorder or something?" She said she wished because it wasn't funny then but she knew she would laugh later. Finally she told on them two, Annabelle and Declan because she adjusted the towel and I was getting ready to throw it out but she shrieked then "no!! You need it to cover up for the kids!" And I said "well where are they?" And she moved her head slightly to the left and motioned me to shh. So i pretended to be a sea monster with a pink towel over my waist and scared the dickens out of them both. Declan looked at me in horror and said I was no fun! Me! Me! Of all people. After i was nearly pissing in my tub talking in my sleep. Shit. I knew i said some bad stuff but all i could think was that it was about sex and murder. Luckily the words that came out were sober compared to what was in my head which was drunk with power.

Chasity: so you're seriously thinking it won't be so bad then? To live with mom then with me?

Brian: I mean well..yeah now JuJu is dead and so is a lot of other people it might be a possibility.

Chasity: because dad this is really important to me So don't mislead me.

Brian: well she's not So bad... She's just a lot of work!

Me: you are a lot of work. You want to treat me like a baby and do everything

Brian: No like you're a doll! But you talk back! Sheesh! A lot too I might add! That makes the work double because then i got to think!

Me: well you don't seem to listen too badly.

Brian: Oh wow! What a compliment! That is a compliment isn't it?!

Me: yeah

Wendy: im Peter Pan's wife do you remember me? Dad you need to grow up and get a wife. Quit being a bachelor. The look isn't good on you. Or on mom. Do you hear?

Brian: yeah i hear. I am listening.

Wendy: okay good. In conclusion of the virus growth we will get back to you tomorrow, general public. And dad we hope you grow over night just as Much. Mom's been typing just over an hour and no major changes to report but now we need to get the room ready and we will have that report tomorrow. Dad thanks for the talk. We always enjoy the Tales of the Man Dressed in a Pink Towel in the Bathtub.