#cabin tales Marcus

[cat0901h3]

Cabin Tales 1.08

Cry Wolf

🎃 Happy Halloween 🎃

…enjoy while it lasts.

[angelic-writer]

Headcanon on how Marcus and Koby met: Koby used to fake being sick and injured all the time as a kid. Throughout elementary and middle school, he feigned illness to get out of taking a test or doing a run. His classmates just roll their eyes at his antics now.

One day at lunch, Koby almost chokes to death on a grape. His classmates think he's faking it again, but they notice his face turning blue and start to freak out. Then, Marcus came by and saved him.

And that's the story of how they met. Koby still messes around with Marcus and eventually, Tori, but he learned his lesson after the grape incident. (Kinda.)

[doliminuz]

Marcus doodle I made in my maths book a few days ago bc i NEED to unleash my design of him to the world

My son who is Horrors

[rhithefella]

If you grabbed Marcus and squeeze him he makes squeaky toy noises like a rubber duck

Him and Kevin probably

They have squeaky toy vibes

[mapecl-stories]

Whispers of Shadows: Unearthing Dark Secrets

Icy winter night, Marcus discovered the woman. She staggered across the deserted parking lot in front of the old warehouse on the outskirts of Flensburg. Her pale skin gleamed in the pale moonlight, and her nightgown was torn and bloodstained. But the worst was her gaze, a dim light in her eyes.

Marcus stepped closer to Lena, who trembled with cold and fear. "Lena, you must help me. I won't leave you alone here. Can you tell me more about what happened?"

Lena struggled to catch her breath, but after a while, a faint whisper emerged from her. "They're everywhere. In the woods… in the cabin… everywhere." Her voice quivered.

Marcus noticed her eyes fixed in fear on something in the darkness. "Who, Lena? Who is everywhere? We need to find out what happened."

The young woman looked at him, her eyes half-blinded by horror. "The shadows… those lurking in the dark. They've come… because of the sin."

Marcus furrowed his brow as he tried to understand Lena's words. "The shadows? What sin do you mean?"

Lena could barely organize her thoughts, but she sobbed, "We… we did something, something terrible. They will come for me, Marcus. Please, you must help me."

The detective could see the desperation in her eyes and felt that this was the beginning of a disquieting tale. The darkness around them seemed to intensify, and the shadows of the past began to reveal themselves.

[brokehorrorfan]

Scream Factory has revealed the complete specs for The Friday the 13th Collection, which will be released on October 13th. The definitive, 16-disc box set collects all 12 films in the iconic horror franchise on Blu-ray.

Each film is housed in its own Blu-ray case with original theatrical artwork. They’re collected in a rigid slipcover with new artwork by Devon Whitehead alongside a 40-page booklet featuring essays and archival photography.

Sean S. Cunningham’s Friday the 13th launched the series in 1980. It was followed by Steve Miner’s Friday the 13th Part 2 in 1981, Steve Miner’s Friday the 13th Part 3 in 1982, Joseph Zito’s Friday the 13th: The Final Chapter in 1984, Danny Steinmann’s Friday the 13th: A New Beginning in 1985, Tom McLoughlin’s Friday the 13th Part VI: Jason Lives in 1986, John Carl Buechler’s Friday the 13th Part VII: The New Blood in 1988, and Rob Hedden’s Friday the 13th Part VIII: Jason Takes Manhattan in 1989.

The franchise continued with Adam Marcus’s Jason Goes to Hell: The Final Friday in 1993, James Isaac’s Jason X in 2001, and Ronny Yu’s Freddy vs. Jason in 2003. it was remade with Marcus Nispel’s Friday the 13th in 2009.

Parts 1, 2, 3, and 4 have received new 4K transfers, with Part 1 in its theatrical and unrated cuts and Part 3 in its original 3D presentation. Jason Goes to Hell has received a new 2K scan of the interpositive for the theatrical version, while the unrated version has been reassembled using HD inserts.

Among the newly announced extras extras are new commentaries, interviews, and the long-awaited uncut gore footage from Part 2. A full list of special features can be found below.

Disc 1: Friday the 13th (theatrical cut) New 4K scan of the original camera negative Audio: DTS-HD Master Audio Mono – English SDH

US theatrical trailer

International theatrical trailer

TV spot

US radio spots

UK radio spot

Stills gallery

Poster and lobby card gallery

Disc 2: Friday the 13th (unrated cut) New 4K scan of the original camera negative Audio: DTS-HD Master Audio Mono, 5.1 - English SDH

Audio commentary by director Sean S. Cunningham, screenwriter Victor Miller, actresses Adrienne King and Betsy Palmer, composer Harry Manfredini, editor Bill Freda, assistant editor Jay Keuper, and author Peter M. Bracke

Fresh Cuts: New Tales from Friday the 13th

The Man Behind the Legacy: Sean S. Cunningham

Friday the 13th reunion panel

Lost Tales from Camp Blood: Part 1

Vintage Fangoria Magazine article (BD rom)

Disc 3: Friday the 13th Part 2 New 4K scan of the original camera negative Audio: DTS-HD Master Audio Mono, 5.1 - English SDH

Audio commentary by actress Amy Steel, filmmaker Thommy Hutson, and author Peter M. Bracke (new)

Audio commentary by actors Russell Todd, Kirsten Baker, Bill Randolph, Lauren Marie-Taylor, and Stu Charno and author Peter M. Bracke

Interview with actress Amy Steel (new)

Slashed Scenes (new)

Inside Crystal Lake Memories: The Book

Friday’s Legacy: Horror Conventions

Lost Tales from Camp Blood: Part 2

Radio spots

TV spots

US theatrical trailer

Japanese theatrical trailer

Still gallery

Poster and lobby card gallery

Vintage Fangoria article (BD rom)

Disc 4: Friday the 13th Part 3 New 4K scan of the original camera negative Audio: DTS-HD Master Audio Mono, 5.1 - English SDH

2D and 3D versions of the film

Audio Commentary by actors Larry Zerner, Paul Kratka, Richard Brooker, and Dana Kimmell

Fresh Cuts: 3D Terror

Lost Tales from Camp Blood: Part 3

TV spots

Radio spots

Theatrical trailer

Still gallery

Poster and lobby card gallery

Vintage Fangoria article (BD rom)

Disc 5: Friday the 13th: The Final Chapter New 4K scan of the original camera negative Audio: DTS-HD Master Audio Mono, 5.1 - English SDH

Audio commentary by director Joe Zito, writer Barney Cohen, and editor Joel Goodman

Audio commentary by filmmakers Adam Green and Joe Lynch

Lost Tales from Camp Blood – Part 4

Slashed Scenes with audio commentary by director Joseph Zito

Jason’s Unlucky Day: 25 Years After Friday the 13th: The Final Chapter

The Lost Ending

The Crystal Lake Massacres Revisited Part I

Lost Tales from Camp Blood: Part 4

Jimmy’s Dead Dance Moves

TV spots

Radio spots

Theatrical trailer

Still gallery

Poster and lobby card gallery

Vintage Fangoria article (BD rom)

Disc 6: Friday the 13th Part V: A New Beginning Audio: DTS-HD Master Audio Mono, 5.1 - English SDH

Audio commentary by actors Melanie Kinnaman, Deborah Voorhees, and Tiffany Helm (new)

Audio commentary by filmmakers Adam Green and Joe Lynch (new)

Audio commentary by director/co-writer Danny Steinmann and actors John Shepherd and Shavar Ross

Lost Tales of Camp Blood: Part 5

The Crystal Lake Massacres Revisited Part II

New Beginnings: The Making of Friday the 13th Part V

TV spots

Theatrical trailer

Still gallery

Poster and lobby card gallery

Vintage Fangoria article (BD rom)

Disc 7: Friday the 13th Part VI: Jason Lives Audio: DTS-HD Master Audio Stereo, 5.1 - English SDH

Audio commentary by actors Thom Mathews, Vinny Gustaferro, Kerry Noonan, Cynthia Kania, and CJ Graham (new)

Audio commentary by writer/director Tom McLoughlin and filmmakers Adam Green and Joe Lynch (new)

Audio commentary by writer/director Tom McLoughlin

Audio commentary by writer/director Tom McLoughlin, actor Vincent Guastaferro, and editor Bruce Green

Audio Commentary by filmmakers Adam Green and Joe Lynch

Lost Tales from Camp Blood: Part 6

The Crystal Lake Massacres Revisited Part III

Jason Lives: The Making of Friday the 13th: Part VI

Meeting Mr. Voorhees: alternate ending storyboards

Slashed Scenes

TV spots

Theatrical trailer

Still gallery

Vintage Fangoria article (BD rom)

Disc 8: Friday the 13th Part VII: The New Blood Audio: DTS-HD Master Audio Stereo, 5.1 - English SDH

Audio Commentary by director John Carl Buechler and actor Kane Hodder

Audio Commentary by director John Carl Buechler and actors Lar Park Lincoln and Kane Hodder

Jason’s Destroyer: The Making of Friday the 13th Part VII

Mind Over Matter: The Truth About Telekinesis

Makeover by Maddy: Need A Little Touch-Up Work, My Ass

Slashed Scenes with introduction

TV spot

Theatrical trailer

Still gallery

Poster and behind-the-scenes gallery

Vintage Fangoria article (BD rom)

Disc 9: Friday the 13th Part VIII: Jason Takes Manhattan Audio: DTS-HD Master Audio Stereo, 5.1 - SDH

Audio commentary by director Rob Hedden

Audio commentary by actors Scott Reeves, Jensen Daggett, and Kane Hodder

New York Has A New Problem: The Making of Friday the 13th Part VIII – Jason Takes Manhattan

Slashed Scenes

Gag reel

TV spots

Theatrical trailer

Still gallery

Poster and behind-the-scenes gallery

Disc 10: Jason Goes to Hell: The Final Friday (theatrical cut) New 2K scan of the interpositive Audio: DTS-HD Master Audio Stereo, 5.1 - English SDH

Introduction by director Adam Marcus (new)

TV spots

Theatrical trailer

Still gallery

Poster and behind-the-scenes gallery

A look at the Friday the 13th Prop Museum Book

Disc 11: Jason Goes to Hell: The Final Friday (unrated cut) New 2K scan of the interpositive with HD inserts

Introduction by director Adam Marcus (new)

Audio commentary by director Adam Marcus and author Peter Bracke (new)

Audio commentary by director Adam Marcus and screenwriter Dean Lorey

Interview with director Adam Marcus (new)

Jason vs. Terminator: Adam Marcus on growing up with the Cunninghams (new)

Interview with actor Kane Hodder (new)

Additional TV footage with optional audio commentary by director Adam Marcus and author Peter Bracke (new)

Disc 12: Jason X Audio: DTS-HD Master Audio Stereo, 5.1 - English SDH

Introduction by actor Kane Hodder (new)

Audio commentary by writer Todd Farmer and author Peter Bracke (new)

Audio commentary with director Jim Isaac, writer Todd Farmer, and producer Noel Cunningham

Outta Space: The Making of Jason X: Interviews with producers Sean S. Cunningham and Noel Cunningham, writer Todd Farmer, and actor Kane Hodder (new)

Interview with writer Todd Farmer (new)

Interview with actress Kristi Angus (new)

Jason Rebooted: Producer Sean S. Cunningham on Jason Goes to Hell and Jason X (new)

The Many Lives of Jason Voorhees

By Any Means Necessary: The Making of Jason X

Vintage cast and crew interviews

Behind the scenes footage

Electronic Press Kit

Club reel

TV spots

Theatrical Trailers

Still gallery

Poster and behind-the-scenes gallery

Disc 13: Freddy vs. Jason Audio: Dolby TrueHD 5.1, Dolby Digital 5.1 EX - English SDH

Audio Commentary by director Ronny Yu and actors Robert Englund and Ken Kirzinger

21 deleted/alternate scenes, including the original opening and ending, with optional commentary by director Ronny Yu and executive producer Douglas Curtis

Genesis: Development Hell

On Location: Springwood Revisited

On Location: Cabin Fever

Art Direction: Jason’s Decorating Tips

Stunts: When Push Comes to Shove

Make-up Effects: Freddy’s Beauty Secrets

Visual Effects Exploration

My Summer Vacation: A Visit to Camp Hackenslash

Pre-fight press conference at Bally’s Casino in Las Vegas

Ill Nino “How Can I Live” music video

TV spots

Theatrical trailer

Disc 14: Friday the 13th (2009) Audio: Dolby TrueHD 5.1, Dolby Digital 5.1 - English SDH

Theatrical and extended cuts

Terror Trivia Track with picture-in-picture featuring the cast and crew

Hacking Back/Slashing Forward: Remembering the original movie

The Rebirth of Jason Voorhees

Slashed Scenes

The Best 7 Kills

Disc 15: Bonus

Interview with producer/director Sean S. Cunningham (new)

Interview with producer/director Steve Miner (new)

Interview with composer Harry Manfredini (new)

The Magic Keyboard: Harry Manfredini on scoring Friday the 13th (new)

Interview with actor Harry Crosby (new)

Interview with actor Bill Randolph (new)

Back to Camp: The Locations of Friday the 13th and Friday the 13th Part 2 hosted by Michael Gingold (new)

It Came from the Vaults: Interviews with La-La Land Records’ Matt Verboys and Michael V. Gerhard and composer Harry Manfredini (new)

Finding Friday: On Location of the Friday the 13th Films (new)

The Friday the 13th Chronicles – 8-part featurette

Secrets Galore Behind the Gore – 3-part featurette on Part 1, Part 4, and Part 7

Crystal Lake Victims Tell All

Tales from the Cutting Room Floor

Friday the 13th Artifacts and Collectibles

Q&A with Jason Voorhees actors Ari Lehman, Warrington Gillette, C.J. Graham, and Kane Hodder

Legacy of the Mask

Slasher Films: Going for the Jugular

Friday the 13th playing cards still gallery

Easter eggs

Disc 16: Bonus

Alice Lives: Interviews with Alice Cooper and “The Man Behind the Mask” music video director Jeffrey Abelson (new)

Legends Never Die: Tom McLoughlin at the Hollywood Forever Cemetery (new)

Interview with director Tom McLoughlin (new)

Interview with producer Sean S. Cunningham (new)

Faceless Evil: Sean S. Cunningham and Jason (new)

Jason Was Here: Friday the 13th Part 3-6 Locations Then and Now (new)

Alice Cooper “The Man Behind the Mask” music video

Scream Queens: Horror Heroines Exposed (2014) - 78-minute documentary with actors Adrienne King, Melanie Kinnaman, and more

Slice and Dice: The Slasher Film Forever (2013) - 75-minute documentary with actor Corey Feldman, director John Carl Buechler, and more

Trailer Reel – Trailers for all 12 films in a row

Freddy vs Jason storyboard and production galleries

Friday the 13th (2009) electronic press kit

Friday the 13th (2009) TV spots

Friday the 13th (2009) theatrical trailer

Friday the 13th (2009) teaser trailer

Friday the 13th vintage newspaper ad gallery for all 12 films

Easter egg

[kashimos-hajime]

the scales | d.w.t.d. 07

summary: “You are where it all began, schatzi, and now, you are where it will end.”

WARNINGS: swearing, mentions of extreme violence, mentions of child prostitution pairing: hector x fem!reader word count: 5.4k

a/n: clownery never ceases tbh

00 | 06 | ...

“Are you sure?” Jackson’s voice is not tender with you as you nod, thumbing over Marcus’s card. You stare out the window of the jet, waiting for Santino and you feel like someone’s watching you, even in this enclosed cabin. “Darling—”

“Don’t,” you grit out too roughly. “Yes, I’m sure. Marcus is positive he’s back. Do you have… agents, still? Orion, the others.”

“Amusing you’d think otherwise,” is his dry response. “I’ll have him sent out immediately. If the Cardinal truly is targeting you once again, he will find a lead. Don’t worry.”

“I’m not,” you lie through your teeth. “I’m just… Jackson. You know what I’m worried about.”

“He will definitely find out what he’s missed during his absence,” he agrees bitterly. “Including…”

Allegra. He doesn’t say her name but you know. “Keep her safe,” you plead softly, watching a black car pull up to the tarmac. Santino steps out, suit jacket folded over his arm and sunglasses perched on his nose to probably hide how hungover he is.

“Always.” A beat. “I love you.”

“I know. I love you, too.”

You hang up before Santino enters the plane. Clutching onto your phone, you keep staring out the window.

If he notices anything about your tense fist, he doesn’t say anything about it.

.

When you land in Rome and switch on your cell service, your phone vibrates and your eyebrows shoot up in surprise at the unknown number.

Marcus told me. Keeping eyes out. Stay safe. -JW

Tattle-tale. Thank you. -P

There is no response after.

Not that you expected one.

.

You think February is your favourite month. It swings between spring, when life is just starting, and winter, when life has ended, and you think there’s something fairly poetic about that. You say as much to Hector, in Cairo, in the cool night perched behind a neon sign of a restaurant while musing about how summer gets too hot because summer as it is now, mid-July and dripping with humidity, has made for short tempers on both ends.

“Everything is just sweaty and gross. Besides, there’s too many bugs and it can get so humid.”

“Do I care?” he asks, twisting the sight onto the rifle and you shoot him a look as you bite into your churro. “Sure. Fits the theme of your name.”

“Aw, you’re a mythology buff.”

“Give me the damn churro.” You hand it over for the rifle which you continue assembling and Hector bites into it, quicksilver gaze focused on your every move. “Are you going to talk about what happened in Las Vegas?”

Your fingers don’t slow down. “Why would I do that?”

“Because you talk about your feelings. That’s all you do.”

“Careful, mister. I might begin to think that you care,” you shoot back as you set the rifle down on the stand, adjusting the scope before leaning in close. “Okay. How’s that?” Scooting away, you let Hector take your place by the scope and he smirks, the curve of his lip digging into the side of his face.

“What am I supposed to be looking at?”

“The dog! It’s cute,” you point out, looking over the edge of the building. Hector flips the safety, and your head snaps towards him as a growl twists your lips. “Do not shoot the dog or there will be a bullet in your brain faster than you can say fuck, cazzo.”

“Just making you nervous, sweetheart,” he says, swivelling the rifle back to the flat where they’re supposed to be waiting for the target to enter. Both of you pull back from the scope and simply sit against the wall. You reach over to pinch the end of the churro off.

It’s still warm in your hands.

“I’m not going to talk about Las Vegas until it’s dealt with,” you inform him at length. He raises an eyebrow and you shrug. “Guess I’m not all talk.” Silence. You sigh and add on in an attempt to lighten the mood, “Besides, I don’t want to bore you with all the details about my life.”

“Considering I spend my life almost always with you in near constant agony, I think I’ve built up a tolerance for your shit.”

“You’re so sweet.”

“Keep your eyes on the scope, Percy.” It’s a few minutes later before he’s asking, “Who are you dealing with? That jackshit from Boston?”

“Hector.”

“I said I understood. Never said I’d tolerate him.”

“Fine. No, but yes. He’s helping.” You take a swig of water. “It’s… it’s complicated.”

“On a scale of one to ten,” he begins after a long silence, “how bad is it?”

You’re flipping the water bottle and counting to two-hundred to pass the time so you lose count when he speaks. It startles you, almost, the gruff growl, the expectant gaze. “Why?”

“I know it’s shit if you’re not talking.”

“You don’t care,” you repeat.

His expression doesn’t flicker or fade. “I asked a question.”

A short staring contest ensues and you frown.

“What’s the scale?” you finally concede and he shrugs, crumpling up the churro bag and tossing it into his bag. Wiping at his mouth roughly with a napkin, he swipes the bottle midair from your latest attempt to get it to land on its cap and twists it open. “I don’t think we can have ‘commit a homicide’ anywhere on the scale.”

“Well, what’s the worst moment of your life?”

“That is not something I want to tell you,” you reply, leaning back against the wall and sighing. “Uh, one is… one is a bruised rib.”

“Fine. Five is a gunshot wound to the shoulder. Through and through. Clean. Just tears right through.” He dusts off his hands of any excess sugar before rubbing his palms together. “Hurts like a bitch, though.”

“Okay… What hurts more than a gunshot wound?” you ask warily. “Broken bones?”

“Depends on if you know what it feels like to have every bone broken inside you. Dislocated shoulders,” he suggests. “Broken femurs, damaged organs. You know, like you’ve been smashed to bits. Like you’ve got a broken body.”

“Can’t say I know it on a physical level, precisely,” you offer, and his eyes meet yours, glinting underneath the moonbeams. There’s something… something almost genuine when he looks at you. “You know, I think physical pain is secondary to anything a mind can do.”

He shakes his head and glances into the scope. When he doesn’t assume firing position, you know there’s no movement. There’s an ant trying to crawl over your boot and you watch it try. Hector’s either doing the same thing or just admiring the bird shit on the roof.

“Ten is your mind throwing everything at you, and you believing it,” he says after a long while. You don’t argue it. “Like you’re rotting inside and you can’t do a thing about it.”

You catch him looking again. Then, you say: “I think I’m at a seven? Like an old wound’s starting to ache again and all you can think about is how you got it which, spoiler alert, is not a fond memory and suddenly you’re missing someone who meant a lot to you. Someone you lost a long time ago. If that makes any sense.”

He nods. You pull your jacket tight around yourself and begin to settle in for a long night.

By dawn, there is only the sound of one crack spitting the air.

By mid-morning, you’re already on the plane back to Rome.

.

True to your own words, Rome’s summer is filled with you staying indoors and in air-con as much as possible between missions, and wearing nothing more than shorts and tank-tops in the Roman evenings. Normally, you’d spend the evenings with Dario, maybe even just walk through parks or the city, but every Saturday it’s dinner with Julius.

Keep routine. Don’t let them think you know.

Jardani’s voice in your head, as always, warning you of things you already know.

As you sit on the roof with Julius, you feel a strange pair of eyes boring into your back and you turn around to nothing.

“Something wrong, passerota?” Julius asks, not tearing his eyes off The Leopard. He flips the page and continues reading, sunlight warm and orange on his skin. You’re sipping pressed orange juice and watching the stars beginning to dot the sky, and you hum to yourself.

“I never said anything was wrong.”

“You didn’t need to.”

“Yeah, right,” you mutter as your phone dings. Grabbing it from the table set between you and the manager, you frown subtly at the text.

Where the eldest of the earth and sky stands. ETA 15 minutes. -O

“Another job?” Julius inquires, almost amused as you set down your orange juice and tighten your fist around your phone. Standing, you try to maintain your calm demeanour and scan the map of Rome you have memorized in your head. The quickest route against the route that’ll derail anyone tailing you versus the busiest streets.

“Thank you for dinner,” you reply steadily, picking the gun off the smooth service. Julius’ eyes follow your hands visibly, silently asking a question, but you simply shove it into your waistband and head for the elevator.

Stopping at your room, you grab a jean jacket even if it’s warm enough to without it, long and baggy enough to cover the gun. You’ll only have the magazine in your gun, no backup.

Shit.

You just need to take a deep breath.

Jackson called you earlier. Told you that he’d be arriving some time in the summer. Somehow, you’re still scared shitless.

The paths are quiet at nice, smelling of sweet, warm dessert and rich dinners as you walk through, and you meld with the tourists, linger near street attractions before cutting through alleyways, across small markets that are beginning to close up, and you’re sure eyes aren’t following you but there is still that burning, a burning that makes you walk a pace faster than normal.

Stepping into the nearest corner store selling alcohol by the meet up point, you greet the store owner with a quick smile and know he recognizes you.

“Signorina.” He dips his head in welcome but you wave the formality away, glancing at the shelves lined with glass bottles behind him. “Welcome.”

“Whatever’s cheap,” you say briskly. “This isn’t a courtesy call.”

“Business?”

“Of a sort. Grazie, Marco,” you add as he grabs a cheap white wine in exchange for the euros you set down on the counter. With the unspoken wish for him to keep the change, you’re back on the streets again, glancing up and down the sidewalk for any figures you recall outside the Continental.

Joining the thin, mingling crowd going up to the square, you see it then. Trevi Fountain, Oceanus standing tall in the centre, water spilling into water in crushing gushes, statues framed in soft light against the night sky, painting them frozen beings, lost in another time.

There’s still a huge gathering, even at this time, but you’re only looking for one.

And you spot him, because he’s not hard to find if he’s not trying and not easy to hide if he doesn’t want to be hidden. Burly, big, six-foot five. People give him a wide berth as it is, his biceps almost the size of someone’s head, hands strong enough to break bones with an easy twist. He’s not supposed to be one of the best spies you know.

But you know he is.

You approach directly, making sure he knows you’re coming as you walk through the mob, fingers wrapped around the bottle. He extends his arms and you immediately slip into the facade he’s offered you.

“Buona sera, carissima,” you greet loudly and overtly fondly, wrapping your arms around him. Although you’d normally hate to pull something so intimate immediately with some stranger, you know in your deepest heart that Orion is no stranger. His arms are loose yet firm around you, a cage as he scans the area and you pull back after a hug long enough to seem more than friendly. He leans down to kiss your brow.

“You know to keep a man waiting,” he admonishes in that voice of his, coarse and warm as you wrap your arm around his waist and his lines your shoulders. He starts to guide you through the crowd, heads nearly touching to keep up the image and the smile is half-genuine. You haven’t seen this man since… since forever.

He knows how to keep you safe.

There’s no other reason Jackson assigned him to your personal detail the last… real time you stayed in Boston.

You walk through the streets, not quite knowing where you’re going but keeping the route in your head anyway as you ascend steps, stop at some street vendor. He keeps up the ruse as he buys you an ice cone, keeps his huge hand on your shoulders, guides you until you’ve reached a train station that’s nearly empty. It’s almost closing—no trains are going to leave the station.

You open your mouth to tell him so when he steps onto an open cart and sits down, inviting you to sit down next to him. You do so, the flavoured ice melting on your tongue. You set the wine bottle underneath the seat.

The doors close behind you and the train jolts into motion as you settle down beside him. In the artificial paleness of the light, you finally give yourself a moment to regard him. Numerous rings adorn long, thick fingers. Every inch of skin you can see not covered by his black muscle shirt is marked with ink—a woman’s face on his bicep, flowers on the back of his hands, dark patterns and designs etched into his neck.

His long hair, dirty blond, is tied into a bun yet strands still frame his face, brush the heavy mustache and beard, bring your attention to the silver earring he’s wearing.

He reminds you of Dario, almost, except you know the difference.

“So?” you speak first, picking up the plastic spoon and crushing it in the ice. You’re quiet, even though it’s just you two in the cart and nothing but the sound of the tracks against old wheels.

“Who knows?” He speaks, this time, in his homeland’s accent and language—German, in dark, somber tones.

“I’m not a blabbermouth,” you retort in the same language. Your accent is rusty, but Orion doesn’t show signs of it grating on him. He merely stares ahead, like you’re not sitting beside him. “No one. Not Santino, not my partner, no one in Camorra.”

“Elio and Safiya?”

“In the dark.” It’s a painful truth. You don’t even know where your friends are now. Somewhere in the world, trying to escape the law. That much is certain. “I don’t trust anyone else to do this.” You palm your cup of cold dessert, staring at the red flavouring seeping into the blue. “Is she—”

“She is fine.” The words come swiftly. “She has double the security detail. More playmates as far as she’s concerned.” A frail smile crosses your lips. “She is a lot like you. You know that something so minor will not incapacitate her desire to smile.” The light shudders and you realize you’re going into a deeper tunnel as you set down the cup by your feet. The gun digs into your spine, as if reminding you it’s there. “As for what I’ve gathered so far: I went to Las Vegas, first. Whatever your associate saw is no longer an existing lead.”

“Well, there’s one thing he knows how to do: clean up his tracks.”

“Among other things.”

“And in Rome?”

“Either his agents haven’t landed yet, or you are not their target.”

“I’m not their target,” you echo disbelievingly. “There’s no one else he’d rather have.” The huge man beside you does not argue and you swallow down the cold knot in your throat. “Do you know why he’s suddenly… making his presence known?”

No answer.

You try again. “Is it because—”

“You should know the answer.”

“Asshole,” you mutter to his unamusement. “Whatever it is…” You bite your lip hard enough that you think you taste blood as you shake your head. “I don’t know what he could want with me.”

“He runs the underworld’s most expansive information network, and you were his prized pet,” he says coolly. “Is it any wonder?”

“I don’t work for him anymore.”

“Because he thought your fear of his wrath was stronger than your free spirit. He won’t make the same mistake again.”

“I could kill him.”

“Yes,” Orion agrees, standing. His huge hand wraps around one of the poles and you’re reminded of the one time you saw him pick up some street rat by the neck and smash his skull into the wall. You almost shudder at the memory. The way the blood had splattered the ground before you, the sickening crunch. “But you are still afraid and that will stall your hand.” The train begins to slow, the telltale screech of the wheels stopping making you look out the window. “And you remember, yes? What is it they say about the Cardinal?”

“When he calls, the birds come home from their migration.”

“And what else?”

“He can only be found by his hatchlings.” 

You know what he wants you to say

“Hm. And what more?”

“Once born again, you will serve him and only him,” you say numbly, “and you will do so until your swan song.” The train jolts to a stop and the doors slide open. “I thought this was over.”

“He went underground, schatzi. He did not die. He still sells to those willing to pay the price. That is, for those who believe.” He turns away and you stand, walking after him. A strange inferno burns through your ribs as you step off the train.

“The High Table believes!” you call after him, voice echoing on the empty platform. He doesn’t give any indication that he’ll stop and your hands roll into fists and you walk after him, but you know it’s futile. “Fuck, I know he’s human, just like the rest of us! The only difference is he has power.”

“Just like Camorra, just like Tarasov. Power is power, schatzi,” he replies with a flippant wave of his hand and the inferno grows, like his words are tinder and you, a spark. Orion stops then, golden streaks of hair paler in the light as he turns around and pins you with a stare. “You are angry because he has influence over you. If it were any other man in his place—”

“Any man in his place, with the things he did? The things I’m sure he continues to do while he hides?” you demand, walking up to him. “No, I’d hate any man who sells out children to monsters, any man who trains them to be spies by selling their bodies. They’re fucking children and they’re being sold to whichever mob boss pays the most. I was a child who pulled myself out of the gutter, and he gets to decide that suddenly, he desires me again?” And he raises an eyebrow, unimpressed, because you know in his eye, you are still young and full of rage.

How do you explain to him that you are older, now, and still full of that same rage?

“Do you not understand, little one?” he asks, almost condescendingly. “For Jardani’s protegé, you are barely half as wise.”

“You don’t get to say that name,” you murmur coldly, glowering. “That’s not your right—”

“You are where it all began, schatzi, and now, you are where it will end. You are grown. Grown enough to protect yourself, to attack, to extract, amongst your other... talents. Hm, let me ask you this: do you not think that if you were in his position,” he says, “you would not sell to the highest bidder?”

“That’s not the point. I wouldn’t exploit children when grown men and women can do the job better.”

“Children who are raised in this life grow to know nothing else. They are more reliable.”

“And men and women who choose to serve on their own free will would be unlikely to betray me,” you snap, but then your eyes widen when a satisfied glint changes Orion’s expression. It’s not by much. A hint of a smile, the tiniest squint of his eyes. You try to redirect the conversation. “No one should be able to do what he’s able to do.”

“And yet, he exists against the odds. With secrets to topple regimes, blackmail that could end the world as we know it. If he were here, he would say that you and he are more alike than you realize.” He tilts his head. “That angers you.” “We’re nothing alike.”

“You are driven with emotion right now, at your own anger that a man still lays a claim on you,” he says simply. “You should return back to the Continental where you will be safe. We will reconvene some other time.” 

You scoff, because that idea of safety shattered the instant Marcus gave you that card.

“Do you really think Continental rules will stop him?”

“The High Table knows when to keep a man like him satisfied,” he allows, “but I think the Cardinal is smart enough to know that you are no good to him if you are anything but willing to cooperate.” His tone gives no way for argument and his calm demeanor infuriates you. “I suggest you keep the ones you cherish close.”

Your gun pressed against your back seems to burn and you struggle to remember why you liked Orion in the first place.

“Is that a threat?”

He regards you with such indifference, like you’re merely a sum with no insignificance, that it makes your body want to tear itself into shreds.

“Does it have to be?”

Bitter, cold silence as he walks away. The train doors close and it sets off again, disappearing through the tunnel. The whoosh of the carts sends hot wind into your face and you grimace against it. It is when he is almost shadow by the stairs, a silent phantom haunting the platform, do you finally speak again.

“Who do you even work for, Orion? Because you don’t work for Jackson. That’s pretty fucking clear.” He pauses, clearly contemplating your words. “When you betray him, will the knife sink into his back or will you have the fucking decency to do it to his face?”

“I do not intend to harm him, little one.”

“You don’t intend to harm him as long as it suits you and your employer, Orion, but if you so much as touch him or my daughter, I’ll rip your head off and send it to whoever’s payroll you squat on.”

You expect no response. You expect a deep frown, a reprimand, an insistence that he is loyal to the man he’s served for longer than you care to remember.

It unsettles you when he laughs.

“It’s true what they say about Italy, yes? They ignite a passion long since dead.” His smile sends a spear of ice through your core and it takes all you have to stare into those mirthless eyes. “I am, as all hatchlings are, as you are, schatzi, loyal to the highest bidder.”

And with that, he climbs up the steps.

.

You don’t leave the station until much, much later. 

You spend an unknowable amount of time on one of the empty benches, just staring at the tracks. A worker tried to tell you to go but when he realized who you were, namely the shadow by the Devil’s side, he quickly scurried off.

It’s getting cold, though, because night is still night, and you get up at last, knees clicking.

You climb the same steps Orion did to leave and let out a shudder when you finally reach brisk night air.

“Fancy seeing you here.”

You nearly jump out of your fucking skin but years upon years of facing life’s worst nightmares keeps your wits with you as you turn to see Hector, just like the day you met him. Leaning against a black car, cigarette burning at his lips. When he inhales, the orange embers seem to smolder brighter and you feel a smile tug at your lips.

He’s so blissfully uncomplicated right now.

“Fancy seeing you,” you shoot back presently, walking over to him and plucking the cigarette from his hand. He takes out another and pinches it between his lips, lighting it quickly as you lean in beside him, the car sleek against rigid back. “Were you following me?”

“Las Vegas was a seven?” he asks skeptically, not answering your own question. “You were in there by yourself for two hours.”

Must explain why it’s pretty much pitch black night right now. You drop your finished cigarette, stomp on it and let out a long exhale, hands shoved into your jacket pockets and simply tilt your head back to admire the sky.

You know the unasked question in his silence.

You cock your head and watch a star glimmer far brightly than the others.

“On the scale.”

Your eyes find his sculpted face, the harsh lines of his jaw as he blows out a cloud of smoke. You pull out the gun from your waistband and hand it to him.

“I had this on me at the Continental,” you say and he takes it, flipping it over in his hand. “Tell me what that is on the scale.” He frowns deeply, discarding his cigarette. “Someone’s watching me,” you whisper, sidling in closer and he leans back, arm along the roof of the car. “I wish I could tell you more.”

“And Bancroft knows because…”

“Because he’s… he’s had experience with this before.” You clench your teeth, trying to make up some way to explain this mess—

“Will this affect your performance?”

“No. My loyalty is to you, to Camorra. That has not changed,” you assure quickly. His fingers drum against the metal roof of the car and you keep his stare, knowing he’s trying to detect a whiff of dishonesty. He won’t find any. “This is just… my past cropping up.”

“Tarasov.”

“Along that vein, yeah.” Your lips press into a terrible mock of a smile. “Are you driving me back?” He studies you for a moment more, and then turns to open the door. He jerks his head in a way to say get in and you duck your head, but not before glancing over your shoulder.

When you settle in the car, Hector hands you back your gun with the unspoken message.

Tell me when it matters.

.

“I swear to God that if someone calls me that again, I’ll—”

“Chastise them?”

“Shut up.”

“You already broke every bone in his face. Doubt you could’ve done worse.”

“I thought Camorra liked poetic justice. You know, taking tongues.”

“We do, but I wouldn’t waste a pair of pincers on that idiot.”

You chuckle into your juice as Hector bites into his pita gyro. Santorini is rolling heat tempered by the cool crush of the sea-salt ocean, and as you and your partner sit on the balcony of one of the island’s restaurants, you can’t help but smile at the sparkling waves, the gorgeous sun, the white walls and blue domes.

“It’s beautiful here,” you comment wistfully, resting your chin on your hand. In the shade of the canopy, it’s easier to just admire this, pretend it’s a vacation. “Quiet.” Hector doesn’t say anything as you glance around. You’re on one of the highest points on the island. You can see almost everything from here, and your heart aches at the idea of waking up here, standing outside and just… going to the markets or something. Learning the white maze that is the city streets. So… simple. So mundane and boring and…

“It’s been a year,” he says, drawing you out of your reverie, and you blink, looking at your companion.

“Sorry?”

“You. You’ve been working for Camorra for a year.”

You blink. “Oh.” You chew on your straw and realize, shockingly, that the year has flown by. “I guess I have.”

It feels like only yesterday when you were stepping into Italy with Hector.

Now…

It feels almost like home. Your stay in the Continental has already reached twelve months? Christ. It’s a wonder you’ve survived and yet time has always slipped you by. You wouldn’t have even noticed until something popped up. A birthday, an anniversary.

Speaking of which.

You trace the rim of your glass and look at Hector, who’s wiping his mouth with a napkin and chasing it down with beer. He catches you staring and raises an eyebrow as if to say, What.

“When’s your birthday?” you ask curiously.

“Why?”

“Because I have money now. I can actually buy things.” You lift your chin off your hand and pinch the straw between your fingers, stirring the ice around the glass. “So?”

“When’s yours?” Your eyebrows shoot up as you try to think.

“I… I don’t have one,” you confess. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“Well, I was an orphan left outside a theatre. I don’t know how old I am,” you point out. “When I was old enough, we never celebrated birthdays. I don’t really know anything, to be honest.” You sigh, letting go of your straw and your hand falls to the table as you look at your partner. “About me, or my parents.”

“The Ruska Roma never told you anything about them.”

“They don’t even know who they are,” you inform. “The Director raised me, trained me, too, before John took me under. It’s a very boring story.”

“It’s still a story,” he says.

He takes a swig of his beer and you hum thoughtfully as the sea breeze sweeps up to them, catching in his hair, curling underneath your neck. “Not one with a happy ending.”

“What happened to believing in whatever the fuck you believe? Staying in Boston. Being a mom. Being happy with the Boston Tea Party.” “I work for one of the oldest and most powerful mafia families in the world, Hector. Optimism can only get you so far.” His eyebrows rise and fall as if seeing your point. “But would you ever want to live here?” you ask thoughtfully as you stare out at the sea again. “If Rome wasn’t your home.” He doesn’t reply and you press on, “If things were different, I think Allegra would enjoy it here. We could become pirate queens, learn who’s coming and who’s going.”

“Whoever’s looking for you wouldn’t try to find you anymore, huh?”

“They wouldn’t,” you affirm. “They’d be too scared to.”

“You, of all people, resorting to fear?” The derision is clear in his voice as you tear your gaze off the crystalline waves. “I wouldn’t say it’d work the most effectively.”

“That’s because you’re on my good side. You know what happens to people who aren’t.”

“That’s different. That’s a job.”

“Everything you do is a job.”

“Every offence to Camorra is an offence against me. You don’t see it that way.”

“Am I supposed to?”

“That depends.”

“On?”

“On loyalty.”

“I told you, and I think I’ve proven, that I’m not some double-agent,” you retort. “What more do you want from me?”

“The capo wants you in, sweetheart.” Your eyebrows struggle to meet your hairline as he stares at you, deadly serious. His rings glimmer in the shade and his eyes are intense, dark with an emotion you can’t name. “He’s… impressed with your work.” Even that word is a slog to get through and you smile hesitantly as Hector wipes at his lip. “There’ll be a contract waiting for you when you get back.”

“A solo? I’ve completed those before, though,” you say, frowning, then. “They were all successful.”

“Yeah. Basic assassinations, extractions, easy shit. Remember the USB you got from Little Saint way back when?”

“The American embassy extraction in Lisbon,” you recall, and he nods. “That almost killed me, Hector.”

He sets down his beer more heavily than you expected and you’re reminded that you’re sitting next to one of the most dangerous men you’ve ever met. Not your partner, not your friend. 

The Devil of Camorra, and there’s a reason he has that name.

“You either earn your place here, or die a nobody,” he says, and in that moment, you understand the consequences if you fail.

If you fuck this up, you’re not coming back alive.

[cruddyborderlandstheories]

Punk Girl/Civil War Submission by The Wild West Pyro

Heyo, good morning/afternoon/evening/night

My friend on discord (The Wild West Pyro) had an absolutely mind-blowing theory concerning who the band ‘Punk’ Girl is, why she’s important to the story, and how she will lead to the rift in the Calypso Twins relationship. I don’t want to spoil anything for you guys, so I’m just going to dive right in.

(A majority of this will be directly from our conversation, with [some edits by me] to help with context and add in pictures.)

Here we go!

So we figured Punk Girl is in some way related to the CoV, or the cult in general, as she makes an appearance on what seems to be a cult-centric shirt on the gearboxloot instagram page (more credit to @ifalnasminiatures for providing me with this link!) 

“Well, there are [a few] ways this could go:

Punk is linked to the COV and is intended to spread their message even further with the typical subliminal brainwashing thing. So they can broadcast outside of the planets the Cult has a presence on.

It’s a sore subject between the Twins, but one they hide rather well. The girl is related to them, she’s just considered by one of them as “that disgrace who refused to reclaim the birthright and ran off to join a band instead, ugh.”

She’s a band that works for the Cult sometimes. But in fact, she’s the eyes and ears of the Alliance within the Cult. Best of all is that she’s directly related to the Twins. Secretly, she disapproves of what they’re doing, but she’s the Alliance’s best hope of what’s going on.”

[That last one is the one he goes over the most, and it’s super interesting.]

“The Twins never suspect that the spy was in fact the one closest to their hearts.”

[my response: It would explain why there are no other bosses on the MoM that we know of (excluding the twins bc those are guaranteed), because she’s never going to become a fight even tho she looks the part]

“Also, [regarding] the last bit of your post, it’s just asking for a sidequest where it’s revealed that all the Gen 3.0 VHs known how to play some sick bass.

Punk Girl: ‘Hey, my bass guy is sick, can you take over?’

Zane: ‘FECK YEAH’”

[We talk a bit here about a Scott Pilgrim-esque Battle of the Bands, with Mr. Torgue as the competition, so there’s a bit of a transition that’s missing.]

“Hey, you know how Athena encrypted her messages between Engorge commercials? Punk Girl cleverly hides her messages in her music or backmasking. That’s how she sends her info to the Vault Hunters.

The twins never suspect a thing, and when she finally reveals she’s been working for Lilith, they’re genuinely shocked- and then the rift develops. One sibling would want to protect the girl, the other would want to punish her. The twins seem extremely close, so I personally feel it’d be odd if one of them up and betrayed the other [without outside influence].

It would be a great twist, too. Jack always had something planned out to trip up the Vault Hunters. But Lilith has learned much within these seven years. It turns out, Lilith is far better at pulling the strings than we ever thought Tyreen was.

Also, when Punk Girl reveals that she’s a spy for the Alliance (likely mid-game), this happens:

Tyreen screaming “YOU BITCH” amongst other horrible things and ECHOing up Punk Girl to verbally abuse her for hours, which continues through the rest of the game.

Troy trying to gently persuade his youngest sister to “Please come back” and “I don’t want to kill you”, attempting to smooth-talk her back into supporting the Cult. He keeps on ECHOing her gift baskets.

The twins arguing with each other over the fate of Punk Girl. Which, if done right, could potentially lead to a civil war within the Cult…

And to think it was all over a nice girl in a cool band.

Of course, both Troy and Tyreen are trying to kill the Alliance still, they’re just now divided over the fate of the girl and who’s gonna get the power of the vaults.

Which would add a human layer to it all- in the end, it’s just two selfish children squabbling over some big, universe-shattering toys. Albeit with billions of lives ended in the crossfire.

The war predicted by the Watcher was terrible. Zarpedon said so as well.

And, honestly, nothing’s more brutal and vicious than a civil war several galaxies-wide.”

[It was at this point that I absolutely lost my shit (in a good way) bc goddamn bro]

“Ideally, Tyreen goes out of her way to harass, demean and try to ruin poor Punk Girl’s life, and the [Crimson Raider] Alliance have to help her stand emotionally as Punk Girl undergoes a truly horrible campaign of cyberbullying, physical assault, very violent death threats and actual attacks on her band members. Tyreen mobilizes all her loyal followers to just try to hurt Punk Girl on whatever way they can.

Troy is a little different. He’s supposed to represent the streamer who manipulates fans into giving him what he wants, or scams folks by pretending to be disabled or whatever. Or the handsome fellow who’s a total self-centered jackass on the inside, but charms many people’s hearts nonetheless. So he tries to subtly brainwash Punk Girl into returning over to the Cult, and sweet-talking her to try and get her back on his sides. He’s like the caring, warm big brother on the surface, but really he just wants a new loyal sibling at his side, someone he can control far more easily. Troy’s promises are extremely alluring, his followers appear to be proposing an alliance with the Raiders (which Lilith refuses at all costs) and it’s going to be difficult for Punk Girl to resist his brainwashing techniques and honeyed words.

Basically, protect Lilith’s most treasured and loyal agent, including asking out Atlas and maybe other friendly corporations for favors to protect Punk Girl and her bodyguards (the new VHs). Bonus points if Punk Girl really is a latent Siren or something, and her power has to be safeguarded.”

[So, we know the unknown Sirens (there are two atm) are, if we understand Siren powers correctly: 12 and 7 at the time of bl3. 

HOWEVER. It’s been stated by Danny Homan that there are multiple ways for someone to receive Siren powers: 

The most important part of this exchange is the idea that, in universe, somehow, existing people can become Sirens. Now, I am not sure if this is solely through other Siren powers (Tyreen), or Vault bullshitery, or if they just wake up one day with the tattoos, but according to Homan, it’s definitely possible. In fact, I would go so far as to say the writers are keeping things intentionally vague for this reason.

What I’m trying to reason here is that even if Punk Girl is older than 12 or 7 (odds are she is, if she’s in a band!), she could still be a Siren, just that she got her powers at a later age, like 11 or so, meaning she’d be about 23 or 18 in BL3, respectively]

“If Angel does return, and Punk Girl is going through utter hell thanks to the twins, Angel will be the finest confidant and greatest friend she’ll ever have. Angel went through similar treatment at the hands of Jack, and she’s not going to let another girl with wings get hurt again. 

I mean, most of Punk Girl’s story arc would be heartbreaking, as it really seems like the Twins have fully turned their wrath on her rather than Lilith and the Alliance. Luckily, the Vault Hunters are there to act as her shield. Like, whenever you pass her in the ship, your character can give a random line of encouragement in the really tough times she’s going through, or something like that. 

And if Punk Girl turns out to be the final Siren after all, Lilith, Angel, and Maya would all ensure that she’d never be hurt like they were in the past. 

As the abuse Punk Girl would be receiving is from her own blood relations, [it] would be far more painful for someone to experience.

Now, for how the corporations may get involved, they’ll probably just start by trying to exploit this new galactic-wide civil war (especially as it’s hinted that the Twins do mass brainwashing or something [in the] Psycho character guide), then throwing each others’ armies at their rivals in support of one Twin or another. Although I’d imagine that Atlas and maybe Jakobs would stay out of it. [In addition], the Hyperion analyst in Moze’s ECHO from Commander Lily has dialogue that implies that all the corporations are preparing in case a Second Corporate War breaks out, since the first one essentially made the BL universe what it is now.

There we go, we have the war set up, as entire populations turn on each other, having become psychos pledging undying loyalty to one of the Twins. It’s going to be a mess.

[To end] on a comical level:

Maya: (hugging both [Ava and Punk Girl]) I love my dumpster children.

[Also:]

Tyreen, with this red background and thrash metal playing in the background and “angry war face” makeup: HEY MY WHORE OF A LITTLE SISTER, YOU ARE A [insert hate speech from evil liverstreamer gremlin here].

Troy, in a fancy suit and in a warm armchair with a fireplace roaring behind him: Hello, little sister. You remember the time we played at the beach together? Well… [insert sentimental tale of sibling love and fun here that is really a thinly veiled plea to rejoin the Cult].

That’s it, that’s both their streams from that point on.”

[I don’t have much to add, to be honest. This was great.

I love the whole thing, all the way down to his characterization of everyone involved. I can totally see Tyreen being the loud, explosive one out of the two, with Troy being quieter, but far more manipulative. I think it would contrast nicely with their designs and what people might be expecting from them, especially with how Troy is the big one with his cybernetics and always scowling, and Tyreen is shorter, always smirking and looking like she’s in control. It’d be so funny to see those two roles reversed and I really, really hope that’s the plan. Especially after the reveal that Troy is the one with the braincell lmao.

The idea that this small incident could end up causing a huge, brutal war, not just between the twins, but the corporations as well, is great. We know the Watcher claims ‘war is coming’, and this would help explain what we should expect. It would be very interesting if we needed to pick a side of aid at the start of the fight (i do imagine this will be Troy if The Wild West Pyro’s characterization of the twins is true), then turn on that side once the other is eliminated.

Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed this as much as I do!! Massive credit to The Wild West Pyro for literally all of it. It was a really fun read.]

[gravalicious]

Where did the name of the organization [UNIA-ACL] come from? It was while speaking to a West Indian negro who was a passenger on the ship with me from Southampton, who was returning home to the West Indies from Basutoland with his Basuto wife, that I further learned of the horrors of native life in Africa. He related to me in conversation such horrible and pitiable tales that my heart bled within me. Returning from the conversation to my cabin, all day and the following night I pondered over the subject matter of that conversation, and at midnight, lying flat on my back, the vision and thought came to me that I should name the organization the Universal Negro Improvement Association and African Communities (Imperial) League. Such a name I thought would embrace the purpose of all black humanity. Thus to the world a name was born, a movement created, and a man became known

Marcus Garvey - A Journey of Self-Discovery [Current History Magazine, September 1923]

[jaykay123456789p]

Saga of Patricia the Ferals. chapter 1

It was a rainy summer evening, when all people in the town of Newdawn had retreated to their cozy homes, too wet and muddy to work. No one wanted or needed to face the heavy rain for some puny bit of silver they could’ve earned on a normal night so they all headed to an early sleep. Even the adventurer’s pub, where singing and fighting can normally be heard from dusk till dawn, remained strangely quiet despite all the loudest member of the town all gather there. However, in a small cabin near the edge of the woods, far from the normally bustling town, light still shone from the small window.

“Come now, Patricia, be a good girl and go to sleep. You can’t expect to train in this kind of weather right?” A middle aged man calmly reminded his daughter. He tried his best to follow the child around the house, but his old wounds kept reminding him of why he retreated to that simple cabin.

“But daddy, it’s too early. Purricia don’t wana sleep yet!” His daughter answered while avoiding his hands reaching out to her. The girl was quite troublesome, running around and even crawling up the walls and cupboard, just like a cat avoiding his owner. In fact, that little girl is a cat, more exactly a Feline Feral, one of the many races that populates this land. With snow white fur and heterochromia eyes, she was of a rare breed, even amongst the Ferals.

With his daughter up on a shelf, crouching and clawing up the furniture, the man gave her an “I gave up” sign: “All right, kid. How about I read you a story before bed?” Patricia’s eyes brightened: “Really dad? We can read a story?” Her father smiled gently: “Yes, now come down here and pick one, would you.” The young Feral climbed down and dashed to her room with excitement in every step. She jumped on her bed, eagerly waited for story time. The man sat down next to her and asked: “So, what shall we read tonight?” “Can you tell me the story of the Four Heroes, dad?” Patricia answered. Her father seemed surprised by this: “But we have read this many times before. Surely you would find something else interesting? How about some fairy tales, you like it right?” Patricia whined: “No dad. That’s boring. I don’t want that silly stuff.” The man smiled: “Served me right for teaching you martial arts this early. All right. Here we go.”

Once upon a time, there was a void with nothing but chaos and darkness in it. There was no space, no time, not even magic. Then one day, a bright light shone down from the heaven and descended the five great spirits: Celcius, the flame of wrath and wisdom, Garcia, the pond of danger and adventures, Natura, the tree of cruelty and life, Adamantus, the armor of coldness and royalty and Terrapagos, the mountain of stubbornness and nurturing. With their great powers combined with the very chaos of the void, they created the vast land, the clear sky, the great sea and all the creatures living in it, giving the land order for the first time. However, other forces hated the spirit’s creation and tried their hardest to plunged them all back into the abyss. Amongst all those horrid creatures, the biggest fiend of all was the one we called Inanitus. Controlling the very emptiness of the void itself, he united all factions of monsters under his rule and destroyed everything in his path. Where ever they went, nothing remained on their tracks, all absorbed back into the void. Eventually, the five spirits created four great weapons and gifted them to warriors of their choosing. The Shield Hero whose stand so sturdy he wouldn’t move an inch under any attacks. The Staff Hero who were gifted the power of the void, to reshape reality to fit his liking. The Axe Hero whose strength so great he moved a mountain on his own. And finally, the Sword Hero who was the most noble, most courageous man in all the lands. Together, the Four Heroes defeated Inanitus, plunging him into the deepest bottom the void where nothing could ever escape. But just before his defeat, Inanitus uttered a curse: “May the land where these weapons rest never know peace, plagued forever by an avatar of my burning hatred for all things there is and will be. Should one be killed, another will take its place, till the end of all time and space.” From then on, every few hundred years, a new Demon would be born amongst all monster races and once again rise up to take over the world. Fortunately, just as the Evil one was born anew, for new Heroes, guided by faith and destiny, will once again take up the Four Weapons and cleanse the land of evil.

“Wow,” Patricia’s eyes brighten up “Do you think I can be a hero like that one day, dad?” Her father smiled: “who knows, sweetie. Maybe you could. After all, most recorded Heroes had a humble beginning.”

“YEAH! I’m gonna grow so strong and fast to fight monsters and save people and…”

Looking at his daughter bouncing around on her bed, he can only pray for her safety should she choose the path of the adventurer. He rubbed her head and gently said: “Yes, you will, my daughter, but to do all that, you should be in bed now. Can’t fight any monster when you’re tired right?” Hearing that, Patricia settled down under her blanket. They shared one last good night before she drifted into her sweet dream, unknowing all the worries in her father’s mind.

12 years later

“COME ON, DAD! We’re gonna be late!” Patricia, now a young woman, ran quickly to the adventurer’s guild in the enter of the nearby town. She’s now 19 years old and, having finished her training with her father, can be registered as an adventurer herself. “Wait, Patricia! My knees, they burn!” her father trailed behind her on his poor legs, wheezing out from all the beating he took back in his youth.

The town is still as lively as the day they moved there. All kinds of people from all races doing business with each other. The dwarves set up their work shop while arguing with the nearby elf selling books and tomes. A few Dragonian and Human adventurers gathered near the center fountain, dividing their rations for another day out in the wilderness. Avian mailmen urgently filled up every post box in town and flew away to who knows where for more mail and packages to deliver.

Eventually, they arrived at the guild, where everyone were being rowdier than usual. “Hey guys, it’s Marcus!” Someone in the back shouted and all the others adventurers followed.

“Welcome back, old man.”

“Hey, how’re you doing?”

“Little Patricia sure have grown.”

“How about some drink later, my treat?”

Amongst all the welcoming voices, Patricia can only imagine her father’s glory day. What kind of man was he before she came into his life? As she was wondering, her father called: “Patty, come here!” and lead her to the register. A beautiful woman greeted them: “Welcome to Newdawn guild, Mr. Marcus. My name is Alice. How can I help you today?”

“Yes,” Marcus answered “I would like to register for my daughter.”

“Of course. Now Patricia, can you tell me something about yourself? More specifically, your race, favorite weapons, fighting style, etc… things like that.”

“OK. First, I’m a Feral, Feline sect.”

Alice quietly asked: “So Mr. Marcus is not your birth father?”

“Yes. Sadly, they were killed by monsters when I was too young to remember. Father happened to pass by and took me in.”

“I’m very sorry about that.”

“Oh, please don’t be. I couldn’t ask for a better dad than him and you can’t live in the past, right?”

“Right. Now, how do you usually fight? With a sword perhaps, or a staff? Did your father teach you how to use weapons?”

Marcus chimed in: “She needs no weapon. I trained her so that she can fight using her claws and bare fists, just like how I did.”

“Yeah. Besides, every time I tried a weapon, I broke it by swinging too hard” His daughter add. Alice’s face brightened up: “So she’s a Monk then. Thank goodness, I don’t think the guild can provide another sword to new recruits. There’s just too many swordsmen out there.”

“Have you tried a club or a mace? Completely unbreakable I promise.” An adventurer, Dragonian Berserker by the looks of it, asked.

“Yes, we did, Harold. And somehow, she broke the handle in half and cracked the spike ball simply by smashing it at a rock.” Hearing what Marcus said, approved murmuring can be heard throughout the guild. Patricia continued: “Also, I have learned many skills from dad, like…” Alice interrupted her: “Don’t say that aloud! An adventurer’s skills are his lifeline. You must never do that, OK? On that note, you mustn’t show this to anyone else also: Your adventurer card!”

With an eager hand, Patricia grabbed the card she was given. On it, everything she had learned and can learn can be seen, inscribed with magic ink that will add things into the list should she learn them. “This is great, but” She asked “Why isn’t cooking on the list? I can cook and that is a skill, right?” Her father gave her a sorry look: “Don’t worry honey. Ferals are not known or their culinary skills. Have you ever noticed that I never let you cooked before?”

“But I have cooked before, it tasted great to me.”

“Your “cooking” means shooting ki blasts into a pond to blow fish up, cook the fish over the resulting molten rocks then almost burn your tongue eating them.”

Laughter busted out in the guild with Patricia furiously trying to stop them. At last, Marcus said goodbye to his daughter and headed home, feeling both proud and worried for her. But by the end of the day, he knew that the little kitten he found in that wreckage years ago was no more. In her place stood a strong, beautiful young woman who snapped bear’s necks on a regular basis. “She’s gonna be fine. There’s nothing around this part that can even touch her anymore.” The man told himself that and headed home.  

With her father gone home, Patricia eagerly checked the bulletin board. So many quests, all with fair rewards and great adventures waiting for her. Eventually, something caught her eyes. The biggest quest on the board, with the best reward: Cleanse the nearby cave. Such an easy job, enemies are just small, weak and stupid goblins. Even though they live in packs, none of them is cooperative enough to get much things done, easy targets for new recruits. She brought the request to the clerk.

“I would like to take this quest please.”

“Ah, yes. You know, we’ve had this for a few months now. Nobody would pay attention to it.”

“Really? But the rewards are so good.”

“And five people had died doing that quest.”

Suddenly, a young man interrupted them. He was in his late teens or early twenties, tall but not lean, with a defined but not bloated form. His short, choppy white hair was so unruly, Patricia imagined he had just got out of bed and didn’t even care about how he looks. Despite of that, both his sturdy looking dark leather pants and the knee long black coat with an alarming amount of pockets are in perfect shape. Under the coat, he wore a red tunic with chainmail lacing underneath. As for weapons, he had a big sword hung behind his back and two strange wooden sticks on the waist.

“Hey look guys, Lenox’s back!”

“Hey Len, got something cool? Bet you stole it somewhere”

“Seriously guys, get a new joke.” The man, Lenox, lightheartedly joked back to the rowdy crowd behind him and continue.

“Listen Feral, it’s not I’m looking down on you, it’s just there’s something wrong about this quest. I’ve just got back from the next town and the same quest is hung there. Four guys there had gone missing doing it. That, along with one of our guys named Marshal who went last month. I seriously think you should party up then go.”

“Thanks for the advice but I got this, Lenox. You may not know this, but I snapped a bear’s neck when I was twelve. Bunch of goblins won’t get me.”

“You’re clearly not listening, so I’m gonna say that again. You ARE NOT going to do this quest.”

Hearing that, Patricia felt underestimated. She was a master martial artist for god’s sake. She can handle herself, especially against a bunch of runty humanoid half her size.

“Oh, I’m doing this quest and YOU. ARE NOT. GOING. TO STOP. ME!” And so, angrily, she took the request and stormed off the guild.

Even long after the Feral left, an awkward silence was still presence in the building. Eventually, Alice inched over and said

“Look, Lenny. Do you think that you overreacted?”

“Me? You are the one who’s not acting right. Just look at her, no weapon, no armor, storming off like that. Oh, I know she’s a Monk but I’m pretty sure that her tunic can’t do much against knives and claws.”

“You worry too much.” An adventurer chimed in “That girl can use her ki now. She’s gonna be fine.”

“Oh, I’m telling you. She’s not gonna be fine. There’s something fishy about that cave and like hell I’m gonna stand here and watch. Anyone with me?”

At that, everyone kept murmuring about, some tried to calm Lennox down, others made dumb excuses and continued on with their business. Some even kept joking about how he would steal their wallets. “Of course it is.” Lennox muttered to himself and went out, heading for the cave. Something must be up with those goblins and he’s gonna prove it.

[renee-writer]

From Gladiator to Knight Chapter 5 Tea or Coffee?

Jamie and Claire Merlin

Jamie

I am surprised at how dark it is. I've just enough night sight to see where to lay Pollux down where Merlin indicates. I lay him against the wall so Tianna won't be against the cold stone. Claire does the same with Tianna. They instinctively curl towards each other. Snuggling. I smile at my wife.

Claire

Seeing them snuggle reminds me of the early days with Jamie. How even in the midst of the unknown terrors of the past, I had found comfort in his arms as we rode toward Castle Leoch. Merlin pulls me out of my thoughts when he asks if we want coffee or tea.

"You have tea and coffee?" I ask, my voice reflecting the shock I feel.

"I do. And sugar." He moves a stone out of the wall and pulls a small cloth bag out.

Jamie

Coffee! I understand my wife's shock. I have heard of it, but, it is much to dear for those, other then the verra rich, to have. And sugar, weel, it is for special occasion baking only.

"How?" I ask him.

"I am a fellow traveler. Tea or coffee?"

This situation calls for something a bit stronger. "Whisky?" I ask hopefully.

"Sorry. That I do not have." With a disappointed sigh, I accept tea. It will warm my wame anyway.

Merlin

These four. And all have different stories. Claire, the more modern. Jamie, a Highland warrior. And Pollux and Tianna, Romans from the last time they went through. Hmmm.

Claire

"Oh God," I half moan," I've not had coffee since the end of the war."

"That would be WW2."

"Yes?" He gets up to check if any servants linger outside the doors before shutting them. "How did you..?"

"Your story first." He insists. So I talk of Frank, of a intrupted second honeymoon. Of the call of the stones. Of redcoats, Murtagh, a cabin, Jamie. The ride back to Castle Leoch.

Jamie

"And what did you think of her? Did you worry she was a fairy or witch?" Merlin asks.

"Aye, at first. Then I had to marry her. Make her a Scot, ye ken, to keep her safe from the redcoat captain, a verra evil, cruel man. An ancestor of her first husband." I stop to gaze at my wife recalling the wedding and wedding night. With a flush, I turn back to the story. "Then the wee fool, gets involved in a witch trial. After I rescue her, she tells me all. At first, I believe her mad. But the more she talks, and, there be a deep trust between us. It has been there from the start. So, I need to take her back to the stones. Back to her time." I end with a chuckle. We can't be farther away from her time and mine.

Claire

"I thought that is what I wanted. But, once we were there, the thought of leaving Jamie. Of an eternal seperation from him. I grabbed him in the final seconds. And we both went through."

"Landed in Rome?"

"Yes. My first thought was rather Christ still walked the earth. We were captured. Sold as slaves. It was how I meet Tianna. She spoke English and Latin. Helped the translation. I can't imagine making it without her. I become Alba, white lady, a grand healer( I was a combat nurse in the war) Tianna my apprentice. We were eventually sold to the gladiator master were I was re-united with Jamie." I look down at the coffee cup and see a bracelet, in a pattern I have seen somewhere before. I don't know where, but it will come to me.

Jamie

"To have my wife back. So close but so far. I couldn't touch her in public, none of us could. The master's rules were quite strict. And that was good. Keep her and the lass safe, from all but one, Marcus, may he rest in peace."

"Did you kill him?"

"Nae. Naught that I didn't wish to. He saw sentenced to having his bullocks chopoed off and sent to serve as an eunuch for the Queen of Pompeii."

"Ahh."

"Aye, he is quite dead."

Claire

I am listening to Jamie tell the story of our time in Rome. An excellent storyteller he is. Even I, having lived the tale, am intrigued. I can tell Merlin is too. That is when I hear Tianna stir. I move to check on her.

"It is okay, luv. You are safe." I gently stroke her hair and she drifts back to sleep.

[angelic-writer]

My Weak Side by Mr. Kitty is definitely a Marcus song.

[doliminuz]

Ooough, I just got an idea for the Cry Wolf boys. Just like in Cut Down the Altar, both Marcus and Koby have the sigil of Amon branded on their palms.

Ouh yea... that's so cool!!

[rhithefella]

Marcus is autism creature and Koby is ADHD creature

Do you see my vision

Yes

[threenorth]

Tw blah blah blah who gives a rats ass.

It's only me.

It's beautiful... Yet so hard to be me...

Yet it's more painful to write... Especially over you.

This one out of the many I'm working on...

It's about our relationship through the digital world but i show it in a way that isn't so.. Typical.

It's a about a man who gets trapped in two worlds, think tale of two cities by dickens.

But France is England and England is France.

My doctor says the best writers are good thinkers because they think through their thoughts he suggested asked if i would take a indirect prescript for a book recommendation on mental health i told him I'll try but I'm a stoic at heart he laughed and recommended me mediations by Marcus arelis and i told him ah yes, well everytime i hit the ground I get back up but this time is thr hardest get backup but the whole be pushed 6 down six times get up seven.

on stotism, oh man i love and hate this guy.. You'rd love to hate him too...

He tells me i need to be more able to communicate my feelings and thoughts.. Another blow to my rebuild...i try to write... But it's hard enough being autsic let alone dyslexic too.

Rise of the Nerodiverse i say but we suffer such terrible things, I'm worried that my date nights will become therapy days...

If you could speak for me it would be so nice,.. I told your boy freind about your past, if you never did and he didn't seem to notice my curve ball.

He talked about my mental health, yes it's in the slammer but that's our problem we care to much for each other that we burn a bit of ourselfs for each other, I've had my share of burning myself because what you said but i didn't really click that this time i too burned you. when you need to speak i told him your demons names and he didn't probably ask about them or even care about their names to see my ploy. I might not know the new you, but i know enough.

You tell me i give you an axitety.

Well you give me panic attacks.

But if I could take your grey away like i had done before i would, but now i see i am the pain i thought i was and why i left...

I would say why didn't you warn me but you did, i just refused to admit i would be in that boat.

You ssid things like if you date me your be the cute one saying I'm the cute one oh nonoonono you forgot i look at you and your my cute one.

I would try to come back but every step is a bolt of lightning. And if i saw one coming for you I'd push it away and take the hit.

One day you might remember my eyes change or if you saw the video by now... you have to remember seeing must them grey i told you I swear that's my danger zone, but my greens i thought was my stability now I'm not sure because maybe i'm bipolar I'm probably tripolar at this rate, with my eyes blues I thought was bad but maybe their good.

But the toy store and candy store those are me happy so only you could tell me what you remember...

I will have to be on meds maybe longer then I'd like to be but if I'm a mindless zombie that's what I'd be so can have happyness.

You say you can't trust me and I'd say things like i never told anyone about their names before until that day and he still didn't seem to spot my lie.

God i wish i recoded that call...

Anyway vents aside, your gonna be messaging a dead of page soon enough and i don't plan retuning.

I thought you came to wish me happy birthday so i thought I'd tell you who i am but then that message today yep message received.

Maybe I'll dig out these letters one day if I still have them.

My words are powerless and your words are painful.

Maybe when your stable you can ask me if I am and I'd tell you that I am but when I think i am now I'm uncertain if that's stable.

You said his name and it smacked me, you had taken 2 years to get over me, here's news for you.. I never got over you, I'd tell you that but you wouldn't believe me so here's a wild idea, go look at my blog and maybe your see something that means something to you or worse you don't know why i rebloged it most of my content had been whwt I'm doing or thinking about and sometimes ultimately linking back to you.

I would remove myself from my blog permanently but then we only have fb and instagram.

I don't like those but my instgram might shed light on my world between the days or what have you.

I'm doing okay but I've got a few wounds to clean.

You don't need to apologise, i would but you wouldn't believe me.

It's hard that one day i know your deepest thoughts you could have mine but I didn't share incase they hurt you...and the next I'm just a stranger, you will never be treated as a stranger to me but i guess now you are just a fucking beautiful stranger.

I fucking wish i hated you but i don't.

You hate me, that hurts me because i wish i came back sooner but i didn't want to drag you through the fucking mud and look what happens to me, the one person that I'm haunted by a kiss gets through the fucking mud.

2021 the year i got everything i wanted and the things i didn't want came back for free.Including things i didn't want come, but at least now you have your answers or whatever the fuck i don't know because everytime we talk, it's always the wrong time. So I'd tell you there's no perfect time that's why we have to talk it out but you keep pushing me to a wall.

You asked me if i missed something I was going to say thank you and leave but it hit me harder because i want you... I miss you... I love you...

And maybe your see that when you stable off but I'm not comfortable with going back i tried, i thought i was doing what people said but i guess my brain hears things differently.

With adhd you may see the tiktoks about object permanence, your in my mind i will never forget you, the laugh, the smile but my favourite was your brown eyes...they were like stars but in the day.

Everyday you made me so alive.

Everyday i was loosing my fight but i stayed because of you.

I feel like shit but hey it's a pain i dervse.

If i could be anywhere right now in the world rather then being in colorado I'd pick Nepal and risk climbing Everest to show you what i would do for you, i could die many ways one being when you hugged me i couldn't breathe, i didn't have my inhalers snd at altudie i suffered three days of unable to eat or drink properly, but i didn't mind it... You feed me like no food could.

I'm glad i didn't die before i met you.

I'm sad that now i want you everyday i must die to tell you my thoughts and wished it would break you down and we can be what we we're.

Best freinds and part time lovers.

I wish you could try all the coffee's of Wellington.

I wish you my best but that's never enough for you even if one minute a day i think of you for the rest of my life.

Thank you for being my favourite human, please know i thought i knew my triggers but i guess there's new ones.

I would tell you we should talk but we need safe words but i guess i'm gonna have to learn to slam down my laptop screen.

It's never because of you.

It's because always because of me.

I'm suffering now because yes i blew it.

But if you remember those feelings aren't they worth all the fuck ups? I thought they would be but now all i do is fuck up.

I hope you read every last word but maybe every lsst word I'd pick isn't right.

I'd never speak again if it met i saw you everyday.

I'd never breathe if it ment i could see you.

But i do both because my life was given to me by you.

I don't know if you had learnt strength but for me i kept thinking about my log cabin with you... That's what got me up and now i feel like someone removed it and I'm stuck with my orangey sunsets with the words.

TBWBHOS

Written on the clouds.

I have always wanted to be yours from the day i fallen, to the days i was in pain suffering in the sea.

It's buried but I'll say it again i gave you an anchor, you keep me steady on the rough waters.

I'm tired and tredding but I'm fighting this fight you talked about, i just didn't understand it all i saw was my truma.

You didn't know but you kept giving me attacks of disoation, I'd tell you every word you use It hurts now but I'm glad they hurt i haven't felt like this in forever and it hurts you say them...

I'd tell you ask me your questions but i won't see them, I'd tell you my favourite days of the year but you know them.

Whatever you want from me, the thing i wanted most of all was my rainbow, my inridscent rainbow that i had to put up with rain for...

You.

Out of all my words.

My door is always open for you, i didn't start my life yet because i wanted you to come along...

[peachhplum]

TRAVEL GUIDE – WEST SWEDEN & THE BOHUSLAN COAST

Ready for more tales from our beautiful days in West Sweden? Lucky days spent full of hazy drives, summer showers, open roads and shimmering coastlines. On Thursday we were up early for breakfast at Hotel Flora then collected our car to drive up the Bohuslan coast. We were out of the city and onto the highway in minutes and stopped off to buy a quick car picnic in the supermarket before turning off towards Fiskebäckskil.  Arriving in the coastal town of Fiskebäckskil the rain clouds rolled away and we explored this pretty coastal town under a sunny sky. This place is picturesquely quaint with summer houses all jostling for room, roses tumble over every fence and the smooth cobbled streets wind and twist eventually leading to a boardwalk filled with boats bobbing up and down. For lunch with a sea view make a stop at Brygghuset or Gullmarsstrand. I think I photographed pretty much every bloom in the town, peeped over every garden fence, climbed to the highest point to breath in the sea breeze and then we jumped back in the car and drove on to Smögen. Usually a lively summer town there were a few folks about but it seemed that everyone was preparing for their midsummer parties the following day or hiding from the wild skies that were rolling in. The views here are just lovely, fishing huts turned into cabins on the boardwalk and seagulls swooping in and out of view, the boardwalk is packed with cafes that fill up fast in the holidays and weekends and shops selling coastal souvenirs, antiques and local artworks. We walked, snapped away and stocked up on more coffee before managing to shoehorn in one more stop before our final destination for the evening. The drive between Smögen and Fjällbacka is lush and green with reeds towering high along the roads and hidden gems of B&B’s off the beaten track.Fjällbacka a small coastal town with a big personality, famous for its inhabitants, Ingrid Bergman had her summer house on one of the small islands out in the Fjällbacka archipelago and the author Camilla Läckberg writes murders mysteries linked to the history of the small fishing community.This town feels miles away from anything sinister, a steep climb up the cliff path past Ingrid’s statue you’ll find hidden wooden stairs that take you to a view over the land and sea that is calm and tranquil, with just the faintest sounds of the boats in the harbour below. Down in the town, there are nice shops, great seafood and waterside bars to admire the view from.Back on the road, we made our way up to our furthest destination Grebbestad. Our hosts for the night were the Ingela and Marcus – owners of the local Canoe & Kayak Tour Agency Skärgårdsidyllen – and their children Ally and Carl. We stayed in their cottage with an ocean view and a soundtrack of birch leaves rustling in the sea breeze. Making the most of the warm evening air we took a stroll through the village along the wooden walkways out over the waves, peeking in the fishing huts and workshops down at the tide’s edge. We made a friend in a local cat who walked along with us and then went to bed just as dusk was settling over the sea, falling asleep to the sounds of merriment, faint laughter and the clinking of wine glasses in a nearby cabin. Another utterly charming setting, further down in the main town you can eat fresh fish, shrimp, oysters, lobster, seaweed and other goodies from the ocean’s bountiful larder and the seaweed crispbreads are a famous local treat! Unfortunately, we didn’t have time to get out on the water and tour the local islands in kayaks with Marcus and Ingela but on Friday morning we joined Ingela in her beautifully wild coastal garden to master the making of midsummer flower crowns. We foraged the garden for wisps of birch, cornflowers, yarrow and other wildflowers and wrapped them with wire to make wreaths fit for a fairy queen. They have the sweetest kitten Sixten, who joined us on our search for flowers and once we had our headwear for the day made up, we all sat down for fika in their bright kitchen on the edge of the ocean. Our time rushed by too fast in Grebbestad and soon we found ourselves back on the road to our final stop Villa Sjötorp, after checking in we took a short walk down to the nearby Victoria Park, Lyckorna to enjoy our first Swedish Midsummer celebration. A mix of songs and music with our midsummer hosts in traditional dress and crazy dancing, families with all generations were in attendance and we managed to befriend the musicians and a few local cats too. After the dancing, we took the coast path home along the shore and up through the woods, past dreamy seaside homes to Villa Sjötorp and the most amazing sunset. I’ll be back later in the week with pictures from the inside of this beautiful independent hotel that serves the most amazing food and a little happy Sweden video that we made! xXx