#dark metal curtain rod

[chordati]

Beach Style Bedroom - Bedroom Ideas for a mid-sized coastal guest bedroom remodel without a fireplace and green walls

[thisisacommentary]

Beach Style Bedroom - Bedroom Ideas for a mid-sized coastal guest bedroom remodel without a fireplace and green walls

[whatsernameanyways]

Guest Bedroom Example of a mid-sized beach style guest dark wood floor bedroom design with blue walls and no fireplace

[giftiaa]

Contemporary Kids An illustration of a mid-sized, contemporary boy's room with gray walls and carpeting.

[scofieldshumway]

Traditional Dining Room - Dining Room Large elegant dark wood floor and brown floor great room photo with white walls and no fireplace

[siilvan]

bloodsport – II

prologue | part one | next

characters: vladimir makarov

summary: you never realized how boring captivity could be. you hate to admit it, but makarov is the only interesting thing around, and perhaps the closest thing you have to an ally in this place.

genre: angst, slowburn, enemies to ?, fem!reader (callsign: petra, no desc.)

warnings: semi-proofread, cursing, canon-typical violence, descriptions of blood/injuries, inaccurate medical procedures, reader gets harassed :/, reader kills a dude, russian written by a non-russian speaker (please correct me if it's wrong!!)

word count: 3.7k

note: the temptation to write the filthiest makarov/reader/yuri fic is slowly taking over my brain. i'm begging activision to reveal my ex-war-criminal husband already bc i have two hands for a reason

true to his word, you don't see makarov for the rest of the day. after you're brought back to your cell and locked away, you take the time to rest and gather your thoughts. the lumpy bed provides little comfort as you try to sleep, but it's better than the cold floor. you manage to drift off eventually, even with every voice and sound in the corridor stirring you awake.

when you finally drag yourself out of bed the next morning, blinking away any lingering exhaustion and gently stretching your sore muscles, the sky is still dark. the storm that was raging all night had subsided for now, and through the single barred window on the back wall, you can see groups of soldiers outside. running drills, training in marksmanship, transporting supplies, patrolling the grounds - it reminds you of the bases you've visited with the team.

the team. you trudge over to the only other furniture in the room, the metal chair that you moved to sit near the window, and plop down onto the seat unceremoniously. with how muddled your mind has been since the conversation with makarov, you've hardly had time to think about them.

they're alive. you just need to keep telling yourself that. they'll come for you as soon as they can. all you can do until then is keep faith and survive.

as a pair of boots stomps down the hall towards your cell, you begin to ponder if taking matters into your own hands is the only way you'll escape. you're just as capable as the rest of your team, surely you can find a way out of this crumbling prison.

you turn your head at the sound of keys jingling. a guard is standing at your door, unlocking it, before looking at you. "let's go," he says, thick accent lacing every word. "you're on a schedule."

with a small wince, you rise from the chair and cross the room. the guard starts down the corridor, heading in the opposite direction that you went yesterday. you follow close behind, clammy palms wringing together. it almost feels like you're restrained again, with metal cuffs digging into your wrists and binding you, keeping you from struggling or defending yourself.

after descending a staircase and passing a few corners, you reach wherever the guard was taking you. he pushes a door open and ushers you inside, revealing a sizeable shower facility. you send him a cursory glance, confused as he motions for you to step further into the space.

"shower." he mutters, standing by the door. you wordlessly turn to the showers, then back to him.

"do you mind?" you ask, nodding towards the door. "i'd like a little privacy. it's not like i can tunnel my way out."

he shakes his head at first, refusing your request, until you decide to do the same, silently staring at him. a beat passes between you until he spins around, grumbling something along the lines of "hurry up," and exits the room. once the door slams shut behind him, you let out a relieved breath and walk over to one of the many stalls.

you scan the area before carefully undressing, paying close attention so as to not mess up your bandages or strain any of your healing injuries. you quickly dive past the thin curtain and toss your clothes over the curtain rod.

a string of curses fall from your lips when you twist the knob and cold water pours out of the shower head, prickling like ice against your skin. cleaning yourself up whilst protecting your bandages is a difficult task, but you manage to keep them relatively dry. you were in need of a fresh set, anyway. grains of sand and dust leftover from al-mazrah is washed down the drain, and as you start to adjust to the freezing temperature, some of your muscle aches follow suit.

a few minutes of relief pass by as you try to relax, though the bliss is short-lived when you remember your conversation from yesterday. you hate the thought of listening to makarov of all people, but did he have a point? are you truly just as bad as him, even with good intentions being your motivation?

you're well aware of what your job entails. as captain price so bluntly puts it: we get dirty, and the world stays clean. you know that some missions leave a sour taste in your mouth and a doubt in your mind. are you truly doing the right thing? can you do better? is there a way to save everyone?

as you shut off the water and attempt to dry off with a clean towel left on a small bench nearby, you realize that you're giving makarov exactly what he wants. he brought up the topic with the intent of messing with your head. he's trying to break you - for whatever reason, you're not sure. all you know is that you can't give up. you have to stay strong for the team.

you pull your clothes back on, nose scrunching at the uncomfortable feeling of damp gauze sticking to your skin. the guards seemed to bounce between civility and cruelty depending on the moment; perhaps you can catch someone in a good mood and request a replacement.

the door swings open and you jolt, spinning around to face the intruder. the man from earlier is standing in the doorway, a look of disinterest evident even through his balaclava. "you are done, yes?"

clearly he isn't the person to ask, you think, following him into the corridor. he leads you back down the same path as earlier, through winding halls and up a set of stairs, stopping once you arrive at the cell you call home. you keep an eye out for anyone along the way who looks to be doing well, searching for a person to seek help from.

no one catches your attention, leaving you only one option: the guard currently locking the door behind you.

"uh– can i ask you a question?" you turn around to look at him, wrapping your hands around the iron bars. he sends a small glare in your direction, but pauses nonetheless.

"what?" he murmurs, standing up straight.

you lift your arms, showing off the damp and gradually loosening bandages. "any chance i can get these changed?"

his eyes flit down to your arms, then back to your face. he sighs, heavy and deep, and grumbles out a reply. "i will get the doctor."

with that, he leaves your sight, lifting a hand to his radio and saying something that you can't understand. "should've agreed to those fucking russian lessons from price," you mumble, staggering across the room and sitting on the bed while picking at your loose gauze.

it feels like an hour passes by before you hear someone coming down the hall again. by this point, you were assuming that the guard had forgotten about you.

you sit up from your slumped position against the metal frame and are immediately greeted by a new person on the other side of the door. an older man, nicely dressed and carrying a heavy bag that you fear will topple him over, regarding you with a grin that feels out of place in this shithole.

"you must be petra," he starts, pushing the door open and letting himself inside. he keeps his distance, both hands visible and wrapped around the handle of the bag in front of his body. "doctor tarkovsky." he continues, introducing himself. you nod, watching closely as he approaches you and places his bag on the bed next to you. the chair is dragged over, much like the other day, and he sits.

"the work you did... you saved my life, doctor." you mutter, allowing him to take one of your arms into his gentle hold. he hums in reply, taking great care in undoing the dressings.

"спасибо, but it was not me that saved you." he chuckles softly, eyes briefly lifting from your arm to meet your gaze. "the commander was responsible for that. by the time you arrived here and into my care, he had managed to stabilize you."

he mumbles something to himself about "his military days" while dropping his gaze back down to your newly exposed skin. your eyes follow his, and you wince at the sight of burn marks and stitched lacerations. a cold breeze enters into the room through the window and stings as it sweeps over you, making you clench your hand into a tight fist.

"the commander? you mean makarov?" you ask, forcing yourself to look away and stare at the wall behind the doctor. the same man that put you here is the one that kept you alive. go figure. you glare holes into a random brick, trying to make sense of it. based on the few interactions that you've had with him, as well as the many things that price had to say, that kindness seems out of character.

the fact that he hasn't tortured you to the brink of insanity is odd enough.

"yes, he demanded that i give you the best treatment. said he wanted you alive and in good condition." the doctor rummages through the bag next to you and begins to clean your wounds and apply new dressings, deft hands making quick work of the process. you remain silent as he wraps your arm in a new set of bandages, waiting for him to finish.

you finally speak once he's halfway through rewrapping your other arm. "is he always so... touchy?" you murmur, almost a whisper.

"touchy?" he repeats the word.

"i think i pissed him off yesterday," you say, tongue darting out to wet your chapped lips. "ended up slammed against a wall. is he always so quick to anger?"

after securing the bandages on your arm, the doctor leans back and shakes his head. "commander makarov is usually the calmest person in a conversation," he replies with a surprised huff. "whatever you said or did must have struck a nerve, made him lose his temper. even the soldiers working under him struggle to do such a thing."

you furrow your brow at him. he waves off your befuddlement and gets started on treating your other injuries - namely, the large gash on your side and the burns on your back. as he's loosely wrapping your back in gauze, he makes another comment.

"it could be that you angered him, rather than what you did."

"i angered him?" you parrot back to him, craning your neck to look at him over your shoulder. the doctor nudges you forward again and hums affirmatively.

yet another thing that doesn't make any sense, you think. besides your affiliation with the one-four-one, there's nothing about you that should stand out to a man like makarov. you don't possess any top secret intel or really hold any importance to anyone outside of your team; so, why is he treating you so strangely? is it a game he's playing, trying to mess with his real enemy, the captain?

are you merely a pawn, a bargaining chip between two forces much bigger than yourself? makarov is dangling your life like bait, hoping to catch a better prize. you squeeze your eyes shut and take in a deep breath, considering your options.

makarov would only hold onto you for one reason. drawing out captain price. that means price is alive, at least to makarov. if you stay here, you might be able to confirm this plan for yourself. however, if you can escape and deliver all the intel you've collected so far, you could prevent the plan from advancing any further. no matter which option you choose, rotting away in this prison cell won't help.

as kind as the doctor is, he's still one of makarov's men. you can't trust him. you're on your own.

"so, is it going to scar?" you inquire with a smile, fixing your shirt after he pulls away. he moves to gather his things, reaching into his bag and handing you a dose of painkillers.

he sighs and sends you another smile of his own. "the burns aren't deep enough, thankfully, and the lacerations shouldn't scar so long as they're properly cared for. you are very lucky."

"guess i am. thank you, again."

you swallow down the pills - dry, much to your chagrin - and give him a small wave as he exits the room, the iron door closing behind him with a soft clunk. the guard from earlier reappears to lock it moments later, leaving you trapped in the cell once more.

⋆⋆⋆

another five days pass by, and you mentally curse whatever higher power put you here. your routine remains largely unchanged: at roughly seven o' clock, one of the guards stops by to take you to the showers. by seven-thirty, the doctor arrives to change your bandages. you're given your only meal around noon and left to your own devices until eight in the evening, when the doctor arrives to change your bandages again.

you are slowly beginning to heal, at least. the lack of nutrition was stunting the process, but according to the doctor, you were still on the mend. it won't be long until you can get the stitches taken out.

you've spent several of these past one-hundred-and-twenty hours wondering if that's what makarov is waiting for. he wants you alive to torture, to indulge in breaking something fixed by his own hand. maybe the doctor is in on the plan. you wouldn't be surprised to discover that he's reporting your healing process to makarov, giving him a countdown of sorts.

as you rest on the cold, hard stone floor, with your back propped up against the side of the bed, tossing a rubber ball that you pocketed at the wall, you question if your paranoia is getting the better of you.

the rubber ball rolls across the ground after you throw it at the wall. it starts to come back to you, before bouncing off the edge of your boot and heading towards the door. you lazily follow it with your eyes, until you notice a person standing at the other side of the bars, their gaze transfixed on you.

it's a man wearing an outfit similar to the doctor's, though you can easily tell that he's substantially younger. in his late thirties to early forties, you estimate. he carefully kicks the ball out of his way after entering the room. you watch him like a hawk, an uneasy feeling washing over you.

"i'll be handling your care today." he announces, plopping his similarly-designed supply bag on the mattress. you pull yourself up to stand and dust yourself off, taking a healthy step back from him.

"something happen with doctor tarkovsky?" you ask as the younger man rummages through his bag and slips on a pair of latex gloves. he shakes his head, not even bothering to look at you, and continues searching through his supplies.

"tarkovsky is busy," he responds, motioning for you to sit. you hesitate for a second, but ultimately decide to shake off the nerves and follow his orders. "i'm going to start with your back today." he adds. you nod, moving to face away from him and lift your shirt up.

he's silent while replacing the gauze, and you're not sure whether you prefer that or talking. his touch is slightly less gentle, which you chalk it up to less experience. eventually, he moves on to the gash on your side, settling in the normal chair with an expression that you find hard to decipher.

your unease is suddenly validated as he cleans the stitches. his unoccupied hand comes to rest on your thigh, just above your knee, catching your attention. your eyes fall from the wall to his hand, then to the open bag at your side. laying near the top of it is a scalpel - small, but lethal in the right hands. you clear your throat and shift, bouncing your knee under his hold, testing the waters.

instead of removing his hand, he slips it just barely higher. you squint, gnawing at the inside of your cheek, debating on acting now or waiting a little longer. maybe he doesn't realize it.

as his hand slides higher, though, gloved fingertips digging into the plush of your thigh, that notion goes out the window. you slowly lower your hand closest to the bag and place it on the mattress next to it. the younger doctor pulls back, examining his work, his thumb rubbing languid circles into your skin. you act while he's distracted.

with trained proficiency, you grab the scalpel from the top of the pile and shove the man forward, slicing across his neck in one swift motion. he stumbles backwards, reaching up to desperately grasp at his throat as he chokes on the blood pouring from the open wound.

"don't fucking touch me again," you seethe, fixing your shirt and holding the scalpel in a white-knuckled grip. the sounds of him tripping over the chair and falling to the ground alerts the guards stationed in the corridor, who immediately rush through the door with their guns drawn and pointed at you.

they're shouting at you, but you can't make out what they're saying over the blood pounding in your ears. you turn away from the dying man and stare them down, unmoving from your spot in the middle of the room.

after a brief standoff, the guards suddenly look over their shoulders and shuffle away from each other, revealing a familiar face. one you haven't seen in almost a week, and assumed you wouldn't see for a while longer.

makarov steps to the front of the small group as the ringing in your ears begins to subside. his eyes dart from you to the man lying on the ground, having choked to death shortly before he arrived at the scene. he chuckles, low and controlled, and turns to the guards.

"убрать этот беспорядок," he mutters, waving towards the corpse. the men holster their guns and move past him, lifting the body up and carrying it out. as the group disappears down the hall, you find yourself alone with makarov. the scalpel slips from your fingers and clatters against the floor, pulling his focus back to you.

"well? are you going to punish me for that?" you ask plainly, the pool of red still visible in your peripheral vision.

"should i?" he counters, casually sauntering across the room. his gaze flits from yours to your cheek, which you soon realize is wet with the man's blood.

you shrug, shoulders drooping. "i killed one of your men. most people would punish a prisoner for less."

he wipes the blood off your cheek with his forefinger and huffs softly, seemingly pleased with the situation. it's only now that you notice his slightly disheveled appearance; his white dress shirt is untucked and his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, showing off his forearms that are covered in a light layer of dirt. minor cuts and bruises bloom on his skin, resembling self-defense wounds.

"i could never expect a member of the one-four-one to accept capture quietly," makarov remarks, picking the chair up off the floor. "i'm surprised it took you this long, if anything. i was expecting to receive reports by the second day."

he raps his knuckles against the seat twice, urging you to sit. you end up mirroring your first interaction after he sits on the bed across from you, elbows resting on top of his knees.

you grab a set of cleaning wipes from the bag forgotten at the foot of the bed and offer them to him. "so, i'm assuming you're not here to share the fun story behind those obvious self-defense wounds?" you tilt your head to the side, regarding him with a sarcastic smile.

"like i said in our prior conversation," he takes the pack from your outstretched hand and haphazardly wipes his arms clean, the lack of care enough to make you inwardly flinch at the potential pain. "once traitors are found, they are dealt with."

"seems like they got to you first," you snort.

besides a pointed glare, he doesn't dignify your comment with a response. instead, he takes your arm into his hold, removing the old bandages with almost the same level of indifference that he treated his own injuries with.

"ow." you grunt, a bit overdramatic. in truth, his touch isn’t any less gentle than the doctor you just killed.

"stop complaining." he responds bluntly.

"maybe be more careful, then." you snap, tugging your arm back. you're being intentionally difficult, pushing his buttons, but you deserve to be a little shitty to the man holding you hostage.

makarov grabs your elbow, one of the few relatively uninjured parts of your arm, and yanks you forward, until your free hand slams down onto the space next to him to catch yourself from falling. he leans in, your noses nearly touching, and sneers.

"this is the extent of my kindness, petra." he tightens his hold when you try to create some distance, locking you in place. "do not tempt me to withdraw it." he whispers, dark eyes boring into yours.

you swallow back a whimper as his grip tightens again, blunt nails digging into healing skin, nodding in reply. he releases you a moment later and resumes his previous actions, quickly yet effectively rewrapping your arm. you grudgingly decide to cooperate for the other set, making it go by much faster than the last.

"tarkovsky said you're usually pretty calm," you mumble as he secures the bandages in place. "is it the one-four-one that frustrates you so easily? or, am i just a special case, hm?"

makarov, clearly interested in continuing the running theme since your first meeting, does not respond. you really should get used to it. you say nothing more as he stands up and grabs the discarded supply bag, walking towards the door. he pauses, holding the door open, and you nearly miss the words said to you over his shoulder.

"anyone else would be dead already."

translations:

спасибо (spasibo) - thank you

убрать этот беспорядок (ubrat' etot besporyadok) - clean up this mess

taglist: @sofasoap, @roosterr, @rohansregret, @lonesome-doves, @thorrsexual, @miss-nob0dy, @woodeelf, @fbs-fc-ur-mommy, @soap-mactavish, @itsyellow

⋆ feel free to ask to be added to/removed from the taglist! (18+ only please <;3)

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Blessed Are The Meek 1

Summary: you are trapped in an awkward circumstance with a widowed commander. (Handmaid AU)

Warning: this series will contain violence, dystopian aspects, rape and noncon, blood, coercion, sterility, and other dark elements. Please read these warnings and beware.

Character: Tommy Shelby

Note: thank you for following along. I'm sure yall didn't expect to write Tommy again but here we are. Also feedback and comments if you dont mind. Maybe a reblog. 💕💕💕💕

You climb the steps in the grim glow of the wall sconce on the next floor. Your linen veil weighs heavy over your hair as you keep your head down, balancing the tray in your hands as you make the curved ascent. Your smock rustles with your steps down the long hallway, shadows leaning in the further you get in the groaning house.

The office door is open, as it is at six every night. The routine is fine-tuned and never a second out of rhythm. You enter and place the tray on the broad oak desk that serves as the centerpiece to the space.

You sift through the greyness and pull the chain on the lamp on the shelves set into the wall. The glass shade lights up with hues of amber and jade. You back up and smooth your hands over your apron. You retreat to the door but stop short as you're met by a dark figure.

You stare at Commander Shelby’s lapel. You don’t expect to see him. You rarely do. He haunts this place like a ghost. Some days you wonder if he is even still about. You’re only assured by the few bites taken from the meals you deliver like clockwork or the clothing left for wash and starching outside his door.

He takes a step back, his sole scuffing deafeningly in the silence. You do not hesitate. You take the cue. The rare moment of deference. You angle past him and down the hall. Your only farewell is the sharp snap of the door behind him.

You hurry down the stairs and back to the kitchen to begin your nightly duties. There isn’t much mess to clean up, not more than the dust of indolence. There hasn’t been much life to this place since the Commander’s wife passed. You linger, in limbo, awaiting but never receiving your dismissal.

You set to sweeping the already swept floorboards. Then you shine the cutlery. Dust the cobwebs that don’t exist, shake out the curtains but leave them extended across the windows. You cling to the heavy embroidered drapes as a memory comes. 

The day of her burial, when you dared to let in the sunshine and the Commander hollered and yanked upon them until the rod fell down. Since that day, the anger simmered but did not boil over again, repressed by the stagnant air of grieving.

You wipe the surfaces, finding some end tables you missed. Such a big house to be occupied by so few. A sudden clatter shakes the stillness of the house and you jolt as you look up at the ceiling.

You tuck away the cloth and head back upstairs. It is late and you are worn out from the tedium of aimlessness. Perhaps, at least, you will have a real task to attend to.

You get to the top and go back down the hallway. The dishes, along with their contents, are scattered across the narrow rug. You near cautiously, a tremor flowing in your veins. The commander stands in the door of his office and glares as you approach. You bend to take the metal tray but he steps forward to kick it away.

You stand and fold your hands over your apron, chin bowed.

“Commander,” you address him flatly.

He doesn’t say anything. You sniff and go again to pick up the tray. He comes closer again but does not repeat the act. He stands in the midst of his mess as you tidy up around him. You put the dishes on the tray and take the cloth from your apron as you get to your knees and try to clean up the spilled food.

“You are a martha,” he growls, “you do not pity a commander.”

You don’t argue. You just utter, “yes. Commander,” and continue your duty.

“I could have you sent to The Colonies.”

“Yes, Commander,” you repeat as you continue your work.

He circles you and puts his shoe at the center of your back, stilling you as he leans just an ounce of strength into you. You clutch the cloth tight. You expected to be sent to another household, but The Colonies… perhaps this life is just as bad as a death sentence as it were.

“I always thought it rather amusing the chips you barren bitches wear on your shoulders. A sense of righteousness which would affront the lord himself,” he pushes until your arms are shaking, “how does it feel to have the chip knocked away? How does it feel to cower at the heels of the chosen?”

“Under his eye,” you whisper.

He exhales heavily and shoves off you, sending you to your stomach as he stamps his foot back to the floor. He twists his heel in the smear of potatoes across the rug as he spins and marches back into his office. He swings the door shut and casts you into darkness. For a moment, you do not move. You cannot.

Will you wake to The Eyes coming to take you to a colony?

[toyybox]

Spiderwebs #48: Rust

Masterlist

content: bludgeoning, gore, murder

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

It was so cold. All over, Jackie felt numb. His head was ringing. It was a high-pitched whine, like the keening of a machine. He was aware, vaguely, of a voice, of rushing water, but it was all so far away. All the world was one step removed. It was a strange dream, but any dream was welcome. Any escape from reality, from concrete walls and floors.

Water splashed over his face. He spluttered and gasped. His eyes snapped open.

White ceramic and the scent of citrus, the light bright enough to make him squint—he recognized this place. It was the inside of Heather’s bathroom. That meant…

I’m out. Out of the basement. He could have wept at that thought. Oh God. Oh my God… 

“Finally. You’re awake. Stop gaping like a fish and look at me.”

And he would recognize that curt, cold tone anywhere. Heather! Although terror ran incessant claws up his insides, he was happy to see her. Unreasonably happy, to the point his chest ached. He could have died at that sight. Perhaps he would. She didn’t seem too pleased.

He looked up at Heather, to where she was standing.

“Sit up,” she said.

With another shiver, he sat up. Water dripped down his sleeves—water? He was in the bathtub. What a strange sort of baptism. He was waist-deep in freezing water. The shower curtain hung down at his left, creased up on the metal rod, the sheets plastic and pale gray. 

 “What—” He shifted, which made the water splash. “Why are we here?”

“You'll see.” She then patted his damp, dripping hair. “Sit tight. Don’t move. Understood?”

He nodded. 

"Good." She walked away, out the bathroom door. It shut behind her. Silence followed.

Jackie took this moment to study his surroundings. The tap was still running. He shut it off, though it took a great deal of effort. By now, the tub was just over half-full. 

Cold water. To wake me up, I guess. Jackie had fainted, hadn’t he? That was the last thing he remembered: his vision going white, and the pale certainty that he would pay for his exhaustion. 

Above him, he saw the shower head. In front of him, to the right, he saw the sink and cabinet-mirror. And so much light. Once, he believed nothing could replace sunshine in his heart, but now he was grateful for any method of sight. It was so dark in the basement. The lights had quickly burnt out. For the first time in weeks, even months, he could see his hands. His palms, his arms. The curls falling over his eyes. The damp gray-white of his shirt. Colors and shapes. 

The door opened with a whine. He lifted his head. 

Before he saw the rusty length of pipe, he heard the sound of grating metal. It dragged against the smooth floor. Scraping against it. He shivered again. 

Heather stood above him, poised with the pipe. “Get ready.”

He could not take his eyes off the rusting metal. His voice was painfully small. “Ready? For what?”

She just reared the pipe back. Up above her head. Aimed at him.

Even in his current state, Jackie knew that it was a lost cause. She had lost it. It, that undefinable variable that kept everyone glued together. His brief defiance had been the last straw—or this was simply an inevitable thing running its course, a spinning spool of thread well on its way to unraveling.

But none of those pretty words would save Jackie now. He stared, past the pipe, at the tiles behind it. There was a design, fleur-de-lis and ferns in a blue accent. He tried to focus on that instead. It would all be over soon. 

She took a step forward.

He held his breath.

“Jackie?”

He didn’t reply. Just focused on his breathing, on the blue design, anything but Heather.

“Look up,” she said. 

And there—just above his head, just barely above him—there was a sharp crack, as the pipe slammed down on the wall. A sound louder than any gun, that split the air in half. 

Jackie flinched. Now his stare was on the pipe. He couldn’t help it. Right above him, copper-red splotches on silver. There was a crack in the wall, a starburst across the ceramic. That could have been his skull. He was shaking badly.

“I should kill you,” Heather said, in between heavy breaths. “I should. I should give you a proper punishment. Something you'll remember."

The pipe lifted, then slammed down, fracturing another tile. The sound of crashing metal was closer than before. A shard of ceramic fell into the water. Jackie shut his eyes and let his nerves wind down, trying to get his heart to stop stuttering, keeping as still as he could. He felt such a wild, sharp fear that it was nearly enough to make him faint again.

"I should do it. Maybe I will. Maybe." There was a long pause. Her breathing slowed, slightly. "I suppose it doesn't matter. Right, Jackie? I know you still don't understand what I'm telling you. You never learn."

The pipe didn't land again. Carefully, he opened his eyes, and saw it motionless by Heather's side.

"I'm giving you another chance," she said. "We can move on and pretend none of this ever happened.”

He nodded quickly.

“Fine. That's enough. Now—”

They both looked towards the door. A cane tapped against the tiles.

Even Heather seemed to be caught off-guard.  “Callaghan?”

Yes, it was professor Callaghan—or doctor Callaghan, if you wanted to be perfectly accurate—in the doorway, still professionally dressed. There was an air of remarkable calmness about him. His expression was simply bewildered, nothing more. 

“Miss Rodriguez,” said the professor with pleasant serenity, as if she wasn’t holding a heavy metal pipe. “Are you alright? You haven’t answered my calls—or anyone’s calls, in fact—for several months. It was good that you left that window open. I was starting to think that something unfortunate had happened.”

“N—no, I'm fine, professor." Her expression was blank, however.

Callaghan frowned, this time. “Miss Rodriguez, I must insist you put that…” He glanced at the pipe and finally noticed it was there. “That piece of metal down. There are more dignified methods, I’m sure.”

“Methods? For what?”

He scrutinized Jackie, who stared back. “I assume you wish to dispose of him?”

“Who? Jackie?” Her voice was more than just startled. Urgency was seeping into it. “No, it’s not like that at all.”

“Miss Rodri—”

“Please. Just leave.”

“Heather, it’s alright. I’m here to help you. You’re in ill health. Sit down. And if this is really such a pressing matter, I would recommend using a firearm, if not the anesthetic we discussed. I don’t understand how this is safe or hygienic.”

She raised the pipe once more. “A gun? That’s it?” 

Callaghan nodded.

Jackie tensed. He pulled himself further away, sinking deeper into the water. 

Heather reared her weapon.

Then the pipe swung in the other direction, away from Jackie. The sound of metal against flesh split the air.

Professor Callaghan dropped to the ground. His body thudded against the tiles. It was a low, soft sound, heavy and damp on top of the solidly smooth floor. It was an unnatural sound. It didn’t feel right. Something snapped—he heard it, quietly, like a twig, like cartilage.

They waited. The seconds dragged on. The professor did not move. 

“You killed him,” Jackie whispered.

“Quiet.” She stepped back. “He’s not dead.”

No, he was definitely dead. The professor’s skull was cleaved in two. There was a great crater of split-cherry red in between. The one eye that wasn’t crushed to jelly looked sightlessly to the floor. His jaw hung limp and open. There was blood everywhere. On the ground, on the pipe, splattered on her face, smeared against the tub’s edge. Dripping down from Heather’s hands in thick clumps. 

Jackie whimpered, his stare fixed on the professor, and sank even deeper into the bathtub. 

It happened so quickly. Callaghan’s shoulder was flush to the tub, his mangled head just inches away. There was a wet mass that might have been his brain. Some of it had splattered against the tiles, pink and soft. 

Heather dropped the pipe. It banged on the floor, then rolled under a cabinet, leaving a spotted trail. Although the sound gave Jackie a start, the professor did not react to it. Perhaps Heather was hoping he would.

Still, she waited a few more minutes before turning away from his body, her eyes vacant all the while.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Taglist:

@theelvishcowgirl @lthrboy @whumpy-wyrms

@yassifiedinformation @creppersfunpalooza

@vidawhump @dont-look-me-in-the-eye @inkwell-and-dagger

[inkribbon796]

Egotober 2023 Day 6: Like Children Again

Summary: Every once in a while the Lost Ones need a night where they just hunker down in the living room and sleep there like a bunch of seven year olds.

Prompt: Pillow

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31

They didn’t tend to do this a lot, not since they were much smaller, and much newer in the Manor. Tonight the living room of the Manor was covered in pillows and blankets, making a huge pillow fort area. The outer area you could mostly walk through, but the inner edges you had to crawl. Snacks were left for the kids around the edges of the fort to keep them from making too big of a mess.

Dark opened a random portal or two to check on them but mostly the seven Lost Ones were left to their own devices.

Yan leaned over to put her elbows on her eldest adopted brother’s pillow. “How's Florida?”

“Too hot,” Patton looked up at her as he was working on a cat-themed coloring book. “But I’ll get used to it. Appa’s place down there has good air conditioning.”

“I want to go, tell him I can go,” Yan pleaded.

A pillow came from the side and hit her off of Patton’s area. Arthur had his black notebook on his lap and leaned over. “Fat chance, I only just got him to let me go, and if you go he’ll be all over us.”

“C’mon,” Yan said as she tossed the pillow back at him.

The young author easily dodged and the pillow almost dislodged some of the blanket wall. Which Illinois had to hold up before enough of the weight could start dislodging and bringing down the fort.

“Hey,” Illinois called out before his magic set the curtain rod holding the partition up. “Quit roughhousing in here, go outside.”

Yan leaned over and pulled the blanket up to lean over Illinois’s shoulder where he, Bim, and Yancy were watching Army of Darkness.

“Hey, Ills.” Yan smiled.

“No,” Illinois said without looking at her.

She frowned. “I didn’t even ask. You’re so mean.”

“There’s no convincing Appa, you’d have to wait another year at least.” Illinois finally looked back at her. “Wait your turn like the rest of us had to.”

“No fair,” Yan said as she moved into their area to watch the movie. Illinois let her slide up next to him.

Arthur and Patton were left in the other area for a couple of minutes before a portal opened up next to them.

Dark’s ringing was dulled but still present. “Boys, if you would, a moment?”

The two adopted brothers looked at each other before crawling through the portal and jumping down to stand in Dark’s office.

“Perfect,” Dark said as he pulled a small, thin wooden box out of a different portal. “I’ll make this quick. Patton, during your stay, you’re in charge.”

“Figures.” Arthur was barely audible but Dark gave him a sharp look.

Dark’s expression turned more into a frown. “I need you two to be able to blend in. Remember, your future careers in the Network depend on how well you do. I need you to be able to pretend to be fully human and have covers. If you can’t, you’ll be pulled back into Egoton and we will discuss what to do from there.”

“We got this, Old Man, don’t worry,” Arthur said.

“That remains to be seen,” Dark said as he opened the case and his aura pulled out two silver pines. Each a gleaming star with deer antlers curled around it. The pins were moved to clip onto the inside of their sleeve where a cufflink would sit on a fancy dress shirt.

Dark closed the case with a sharp SNAP and used his aura to check their placement. His aura burrowing into the very metal itself. “There are many gangs in the area. Deceit of the Twin Serpents is one of them. These should mark you as my top enforcers and give you less trouble.”

“Awesome,” Arthur smiled, turning his sleeve over to study it.

“Remember that you are my enforcers, you do things my way. You represent me and therefore you have to obey my rules to the letter. You are Pathos and Author, not anything else.”

“Got it, boss,” Patton did a mock salute, a huge smile on his face.

Dark managed a proud smirk. “You two will make your father proud, I’m sure of it.”

After that he opened up another portal right to where they had been before in the fort. “You both start on Monday, you have the weekend to pack and I can send you anything else you need. Including a trip home with just a tap of the pin.”

“Won’t need it,” Arthur said as he climbed back into the fort.

Patton gave another big smile and climbed into the fort where there was minor jealousy from Bim and Yan.

None from Illinois, at least visibly, which was what the young author had wanted.

All in all it was a nice night, watching movies. Talking about boys, except for Kay who just wanted to talk about random animal facts.

They fell asleep watching a horror movie and Dark was there to wake them up at the respectable hour of ten in the morning.

Another successful night at the Doom-Warfstache household.

A/N: Huh, what's Patton doing here? Ehhh, I'm sure that's not important. :)

[fantomcomics]

What's Out This Week? 11/8

Upcoming Events: Life Drawing! MtG Beginners Lesson!

Count Crowley: Mediocre Midnight Monster Hunter #1 (of 4) -David Dastmalchian & Lukas Ketner

A dead werewolf would have made Jerri Bartman feel victorious just a few days ago. But this deceased beast was her friend and our beloved monster hunter is shocked and depressed. The return of her predecessor brings no consolation and now there's a ghoulish child-snatcher on the loose in Beloit... Holly Halloween, Count Crowley! Things are really getting batty!

What If...? Dark: The Tomb Of Dracula #1 - Marv Wolfman, David Cutler & Giuseppe Camuncoli

Legend MARV WOLFMAN returns to TOMB OF DRACULA and the character he co-created! WHAT IF...the legendary Dracula transformed BLADE the vampire slayer...into a vampire?!

Petrol Head #1 (of 5) - Rob Williams & Pye Parr

In a climate crisis-ravaged future metropolis, an old, grumpy, obsolete, smoke-belching, cigar-chomping, HOTROD-RACING ROBOT is one 12-year-old girl's only hope. Together, can they outrace the chasing Robo-Cops with an invention that might just save humanity?

Punisher #1 - David Pepose, Dave Wachter & Rod Reis

Is this the return of Frank Castle - or the start of something else? Frank Castle has disappeared, but evil will always need to be punished. With all-new threats rising to claim innocent victims, criminals will need to beware of a dangerous vigilante hunting them from the shadows. Who is the new Punisher? What put him on his path of vengeance? And when the smoke clears, will he even make it out alive?

Star Wars: The High Republic Phase 3 #1 - Cavan Scott, Ario Anindito & Phil Noto

A year after the destruction of STARLIGHT BEACON, MARCHION RO and THE NIHIL stand victorious! The galaxy is in turmoil: The once mighty JEDI are outclassed, the REPUBLIC is on its knees. On the edges of the galactic frontier, JEDI MASTER KEEVE TRENNIS leads a desperate assault against an invading force! The odds are stacked against her, but a Jedi always clings to hope. THE FORCE is with her...right? Not so fast!

Superman '78: The Metal Curtain #1 (of 6) - Robert Venditti & Gavin Guidry

When the planet Krypton exploded, its last son was rocketed across the cosmos and came to settle in a small town in Kansas. But what else came with him, and what if a piece of his home landed somewhere we never knew about? As Superman has become a symbol of strength and pride for America, the Soviet Union looks to crush that image with a creation of their own, built by their own might and forged by their own power!

Thanos #1 - Christopher Cantwell, Luca Pizzari & Leinil Yu

THANOS VS. THE ILLUMINATI! The Mad Titan descends upon Earth to retrieve something he has lost. And the Illuminati must band together to stop him, because they're the ones who hid it from him!

Zawa & The Belly Of The Beast #1 (of 5) - Michael Dialynas

Trapped inside her mountain by pollution-spewing factories, the guardian spirit Zawa only has industrial waste to eat, leading her to a bitter existence of paranoia and destruction.

But when two siblings from a nearby village help her escape, they'll quickly learn that the way to calming Zawa's heart is through a well nourished stomach!

GLAAD Award-winning and Eisner Award-nominated cartoonist Michael Dialynas (Wynd, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles) crafts a charmingly macabre eco-fable about nature, greed, the dangers of retribution, and good food shared among friends.

5 Centimeters Per Second HC - Makoto Shinkai & Yukiko Seike

Based on the award winning film by Makoto Shinkai, 5 Centimeters per Second is now compiled into a beautiful hardcover collector's edition! Love can move at the speed of terminal velocity, but as award-winning director Makoto Shinkai reveals in his latest comic, it can only be shared and embraced by those who refuse to see it stop.

Black Night Parade GN Vol 1 - Hikaru Nakamura

A slightly creepy Christmas comedy by the acclaimed creator of Saint Young Men that inspired a live-action film! Hino Miharu spends Christmas the same way every year, working alone at a dead-end part-time job at a convenience store. He'd do just about anything to land a full-time gig, but when he runs into a shadowy Santa Claus dressed all in black, he has no idea he's encountered the real deal. Well, almost. While the normal Santa Claus who dresses in red and white oversees Christmas for all the good boys and girls, his dark counterpart is in charge of handling the bad children-and Miharu just wound up on the naughty list. Gobbled up by a slavering, talking sack, he's spirited away to the Arctic, where he finds himself the newest employee of a massive Christmas operation. Yeah, the pay and benefits are great, and his coworkers sure are cute, but is this the dream job he's been hoping for, or the beginning of a Christmas nightmare?

The Complete American Gods HC - Neil Gaiman, P. Craig Russell, Scott Hampton, Colleen Doran, & Glenn Fabry

Shadow Moon, fresh out of jail, finds his wife dead, his life in shambles, and nowhere to turn. But a chance meeting with the mysterious Mr. Wednesday thrusts him into the center of a conflict between new and old gods, where the future of human and divine life is at stake. The Hugo, Bram Stoker, Locus, World Fantasy, and Nebula award-winning novel and hit Starz television series by Neil Gaiman is adapted as a graphic novel! Collecting the complete American Gods comic book series, along with art process features, high res scans of original art, layouts, character designs, and bonus art by Becky Cloonan, Skottie Young, Fabio Moon, Dave McKean, and many more!

Don't Spit In The Wind TP - Stefano Cardoselli

One man's trash is another man's living.

Since earth became inhospitable, humanity escaped ages ago to live in a space station floating above the atmosphere. Now Travis and his crew of garbage men are tasked with cleaning up mountains of toxic waste, working for a company called Atomic Bros INC., to create a 'Clear World'. But when one of Travis' crew members goes missing near an old nuclear facility Travis' job becomes a bit more complicated.  Collects issues #1 - 4.

Duel GN - Jessixa Bagley & Aaron Bagley

Sixth grader Lucy loves fantasy novels and is brand-new to middle school. GiGi is the undisputed queen bee of eighth grade (as well as everything else she does). They've only got one thing in common: fencing. Oh, and they're sisters. They never got along super well, but ever since their dad died, it seems like they're always at each other's throats. When GiGi humiliates Lucy in the cafeteria on the first day of school, Lucy snaps and challenges GiGi to a duel with high sisterly stakes. If GiGi wins, Lucy promises to stay out of GiGi's way; if Lucy wins, GiGi will stop teasing Lucy for good. But after their scene in the cafeteria, both girls are on thin ice with the principal and their mom. Lucy stopped practicing fencing after their fencer dad died and will have to get back to fighting form in secret or she'll be in big trouble. And GiGi must behave perfectly or risk getting kicked off the fencing team. As the clock ticks down to the girls' fencing bout, the anticipation grows. Their school is divided into GiGi and Lucy factions, complete with t-shirts declaring kids' allegiances. Both sisters are determined to triumph. But will winning the duel mean fracturing their family even further?

Ghostlore TP Vol 1 - Cullen Bunn, Leomacs & Reiko Murakami

What ghost stories do ghosts tell, and what can they tell us about ourselves?

An estranged daughter and her father wander a haunted land; they only have the restless spirits, each with its own story to tell, as company along the way.

After a deadly accident of which they are the only survivors, Lucas and Harmony Agate can see the dead-an overwhelming amount of the deceased, all with their own warnings, cries for help, and malevolence alike.

But Lucas and Harmony aren't the only ones with this ability; there are other nearly-deads, some of which have malicious motivations...

Good Girls Go To Hell GN - Tohar Sherman-Friedman

From political protests to personal struggles with school, body image, and relationships with family and friends, Tohar Sherman-Friedman's life is an inspiring story of conflicting convictions, rebellion, and personal growth. Tohar recounts her experience as the youngest of seven children in a conservative Jewish family, navigating a life buffeted by high expectations for school performance and religious adherence at home and tense conflict in the world outside. With utter sincerity and through detailed panel-style drawing, she relates what it's like to be on a journey that ultimately takes her far from how she was taught to think and what she was expected to believe. A coming-of-age graphic memoir set in the West Bank, Good Girls Go to Hell depicts the reality of growing up in a region split by religious tensions-and sometimes violent conflict.

I Am Only A Foreigner Because You Do Not Understand GN - L. Nichols

Some books take the whole of a lifetime to write. I Am Only a Foreigner Because You Do Not Understand continues Flocks, L. Nichols's graphic memoir of growing up trans in the rural South. These comics document L.'s further transition, from living as a man to walking the middle path, facing depression, disease, divorce and death. Healing leaves scars, things fall apart, and pronouns change until there is no I, there is only us.

I Did It! SC - Michael Emberley

Learning to ride a bike is hard. Can I do it? Yes, I can! A fun comic that kindergarteners and first graders can read on their own. Can I do it? I can't do it. I want to do it. I did it! Simple text that new readers can read by themselves, along with delightful pictures in a comic format, show a little creature trying and trying again as they learn to ride a bicycle.  All their friends help with supportive words of encouragement. "You did it!" their friends exclaim.

Keeper Of The Lost Cities GN Vol 1 Part 1 - Shannon Messenger, Celina Frenn & Gabriella Chianello

Twelve-year-old Sophie Foster has never quite fit into her life. She's skipped multiple grades and doesn't really connect with the older kids at school, but she's not comfortable with her family, either. The reason? Sophie's a Telepath, someone who can read minds. No one knows her secret-at least, that's what she thinks... But the day Sophie meets Fitz, a mysterious (and adorable) boy, she learns she's not alone. He's a Telepath too, and it turns out the reason she has never felt at home is that, well... she isn't. Fitz opens Sophie's eyes to a shocking truth, and she is forced to leave behind her family for a new life in a place that is vastly different from what she has ever known.

The Lesbian Experience With Loneliness HC - Kabi Nagata

A beautiful hardcover rerelease of the critically acclaimed manga that won the Harvey Award, with a new cover and bonus chapter. My Lesbian Experience with Loneliness is a raw and heartfelt account of one young woman's struggles with her sexuality, mental well-being, and feelings of alienation in our modern age. Told using expressive artwork that invokes both laughter and tears, this intensely personal and insightful work was previously released in a single volume paperback edition. This hardcover special edition features new cover art and an all-new bonus chapter by the author.

My Pancreas Broke But My Life Got Better GN - Kabi Nagata

The latest diary manga from the Harvey Award-winning creator of My Lesbian Experience With Loneliness and My Wandering Warrior Existence. In this new autobiographical manga, Nagata Kabi has quit drinking in an attempt to get healthier-or she's trying to, anyway. Her former struggles with alcohol led to pancreatitis and a serious hospitalization, and now she has no choice but to give up drinking. Follow the author as she details the quest to improve her health during a global pandemic.

The Nightcrawlers HC Vol 1 - Marco Lopez & Rachel Distler

When things go bump in the night, they bump back.

If you think aliens replaced your teachers or your neighbor might be a vampire, then there's only one group to call for help: The Nightcrawlers.

The Nightcrawlers take on their first case when a friend from school believes werewolves replaced his parents. They get more than they bargained for when their investigation leads them right in the middle of a confrontation between their caretaker William Jones and a former Nightcrawler out for revenge. This story is about the unlikeliest group of friends coming together to help others...with a spooky twist!

Office Gods GN - Catharina Octorina & Hiikariin

Gods, demigods, and true romance? Office Gods, based on the hit webcomic, is an addictive rom-com set in the corporate HQ of the Olympians themselves! Iris, a young human woman, is swept into the world of divine bureaucracy when she's recruited to work in the office of the gods, in the department of Hermes. The gods and goddesses may be beautiful beyond human comprehension, but she quickly learns that they're every bit as petty and quarrelsome as they were thousands of years ago. Can she survive Eros' antics, Aphrodite's temper, and getting caught between a love triangle with the demigod sons of Athena and Hades?

On The Way GN - Paco Hernandez & Jose Angel Ares

Emma, a newly single cartoonist in her thirties, impulsively finds herself standing in Roncesvalles with her gaze fixed on Santiago de Compostela. Following the pilgrimage route known as The Way of St. James, she realizes the path she is traveling is bringing her closer to and somehow farther away from everyone around her, that the weight of her backpack is more than the clothes and pans inside, and that what she believed to be a simple walk to get some miles behind her (and her past) is a chance to learn not only about the people she meets along the way, but also herself.

Osamu Tezuka's One Hundred Tales GN - Osamu Tezuka

One Hundred Tales is a story about being careful what you wish for. Ichirui Hanri is an ordinary accountant serving his master. Though innocent, he is ordered to commit hara-kiri after being entangled in some trouble in his master's house. Just then, a witch named Sudama appears. She signs a contract with Hanri to obtain his soul in exchange for fulfilling three of his wishes. Hanri gets what he wants...but the price he pays is too high.

An enchanting supernatural fable from Osamu Tezuka, known worldwide as the "Godfather of Manga" and the most influential person of the past century in the development of Japanese manga and anime.

Skip GN - Sarah Burgess

Jay is always scribbling poetry in their notebook. When they come across Skip, a Double Dutch team, they befriend the members-and decide to join, too. For the first time ever, Jay has a place to belong-and friends to confide in. But Jay's friendship with their new bestie Beah is intense, both in and out of Double Dutch. As Beah and Jay help each other grow into the people they will become, it challenges their friendship and their own identities. This charming "slice of life" graphic novel is about accepting yourself, navigating "first love" friendship, and finding your own voice. It's rendered in debut author-illustrator Sarah Burgess's gorgeous art style ribboned with playful humor and sports drama.

Soleil: Illustration Lookbook GN - TANAKA

The illustrator Tanaka's second art book is finally out! This illustration collection is based on the concept of the Look Book. Designed and bound like a fashion magazine, this book stylishly showcases Tanaka's characteristic fashion-focused worldview. Starting with Tanaka's new work "Sunflower (SOLEIL)," this book introduces the illustrations thematically through 10 motifs including "flowers," "seasons," and more. This special collection is full of cute and pop dress collections for boys and girls, covering all styles from classic to street attire.

The Tale Of Princess Kaguya Picture Book HC - Isao Takahata

"Why did she choose to come to earth? Why did she long for this world? An old bamboo cutter and his wife find a tiny girl inside a bamboo shoot and raise her. The mysterious little princess grows rapidly into a young lady, enthralling all who encounter her-but ultimately, she must face her fate and be punished for her crime."

The Cliff GN - Manon Debaye & Montana Kane

Schoolyard outcasts Charlie and Astrid meet up after school near a cliff at the edge of the woods surrounding their sleepy town. They make a blood pact to jump together in five days time, before their thirteenth birthdays. With a deft use of colored pencils, Debaye captures childhood's last pivotal moments as it teeters on the edge of adolescence with startling honesty in this devastatingly well-crafted debut.

Virgin Love GN Vol 1 - Tina Yamashina

Six strangers, one house, one shared goal: love. What could go wrong? "Looking for love, but afraid you'll never find it?" Come Live at the Love House! Shoko Shoji, intelligent, reliable, beautiful, has a secret: she's a 26-year-old virgin, and mortified by her non-existent love life. Every day she checks out the self-help and beauty section of her local bookstore, but never works up the courage to go any further. Pushed on by her friends, she moves into the Love House, a social experiment putting six lovelorn strangers under one roof to see what sparks may fly! Will Shoko, and the friendly bookstore clerk she convinces to join her, finally find love? Or will rivalry, lust, and lies bring it all crashing down?

Whatcha snagging this week, Fantom Fam?

[eulcgizeme]

OPEN TO: @tragiclike for madelyn MUSE: pope callaway, twenty-seven, dream walker / witch. mike faist fc. PLOT: supernatural au— pope callaway was found as an infant by orla callaway who sensationalized her finding of him to bring business to her fortune telling and wiccan services. however, she soon found out the child was truly special and used it to her advantage. when she died, pope was left to his own devices and her rules to keep him from the supernatural that were meant to hide who he really was has isolated from humans and supernatural alike.

Twelve strikes from the clock on the wall, and Pope knew that he had to pull every blind closed. A rattle marked the completion of every moment, a ticking conducted by him as dark engulfed the trailer. The blinds smacked the window sill, the curtains screeched against their rusted rods, and the towel he shoved under the crack of each door was tucked away with a clank against the metal barriers.

Pope had been taught that once the midnight came, right and wrong battled. Good and bad had the chance to fight and decide who would take over the witching hour and he was to be weary. The moon beckoned the worst of creatures— and according to Orla Callaway, and quite possible Pope himself— and he’d hide in the dark from it. The shadows, however, never lasted long. Once he fell asleep, as he always did no matter how hard he tried not to, hues returned behind his eyes. Twisted tales whether he liked it or not still reached him, and Pope always woke up outside of the trailer without a clue as to when he climbed out.

There was a rustling outside, and Pope stopped in his routine. There was a tug on every hair on his body, heart the only movement as it raced in his chest. Was he late? There was no way. He started at the first click, and he was done before the cuckoo’s song was done. He could make it to the back of the trailer and under another veil into the dark in just a few steps. Never had he heard a single sound, not even after Orla moved out. It was only now that she was gone that things seemed out of place, even if he didn’t want to admit.

Instead of submitting to the stillness of the caravan, Pope reached into a drawer and pulled free a flare buried between trinkets for emergencies. The door protested against his push, and he hurled himself into the night.

“What’s out there?” His voice was steady, cutting through the air farther than he thought it would. Pope knew better than to ask who. “Come out!”

[ayns902]

Lost Elvish Memories- Chapter 1- Broken Fairy Tales

Author Note: Hey everyone! I just wanted to share some of the stories that I am currently writing. Updates to the story might take awhile cause I got school and stuff, but I try to write as much as I can.

Word Count: 2.2k (Unedited)

Summary: Little Elven princess Taya always hated how she was kept in the castle by herself, while she does sneak off from time to time in the night, will she finally learn her lesson that her parents might be right this one time?

This is a story of high adventures, but this isn’t one that started off happy. No story truly starts off happily, it just depends on which point of view the person is reading from. For this young woodland elf, it started off just like any good story starts. Life is always about hardships and trials. Especially for the young elf who forgets everything and doesn’t know what’s the truth of life anymore. 

The six year old Taya was commonly known as an above average person. You see, she was a princess of the woodland elves in the forest of Áre, which means Sunlight in Elvish, with her mother, Queen Evangeline, and her father, King Ankir, in the continent of Mintaral. Taya was always a well-guarded type of princess who was never really allowed to leave the castle of her forest without at least two guards with her at all times and she never liked that. She just wanted to explore her town and get to know the other children there and play with them.

A few years have passed like what her parents called save. Safe from the dangers, the killers, the kidnappers and so on (her parents always assumed the worst of the worst in the world outside the forest). She was a twelve year old girl now and she looked out of her bedroom window in the stillness of the night. The stillness was so peaceful after a long day of studying and learning of her culture and the area that surrounded the town in the woods. Blond hair was finally down from her always braided hairstyle as she wore her emerald green nightgown and began to grow short against her tan skin. She was currently in her bedroom with nothing to do, but look out the window.

Taya’s room is what she would have deemed to be a simple room, especially compared to the other rooms in the castle that she lived in. Her room was a pale pink and purple mixed together all throughout the walls and the floor was a white square tiled floor that had a light gray border on the edges of each individual tile. Her room was more of a square room. To one of the walls was the door that leads into the hallway inside the castle. It was a brown wooden door just like any other door that was made all over the continent. On the wall next to the door was her bed and her upholster. Her upholster and the bedspread on her bed was a dark gray and she had several pillows made neatly on her bed of different colors, but that still matched with the rest of the room.

On the opposite side of her bed was a small couch that is not too far from an equally small fireplace. The couch was a pale pink just like the walls with a light brown wood that accented the couch. The fireplace was a golden metal in the wall, but there wasn’t any firewood or fire. It was the springtime after all, no time for being close to a fire. One the wall between her bed and the fireplace was her window. Her window has a white pillowed seated bench and had golden curtains that were currently drawn back on a silver rod above the window. Her window was looking out into the kingdom.

As Taya looks out of the big arched window, she wishes that she could just have a life like the other people that make up her town, but she knows that they also well need her in due time. She sighed, looking back into her room and said to the emptiness of her room, “It really is a wonderful night isn’t it, Jonna?” Suddenly, a dark shadow fills up at the footstool by the end of Taya’s bed. The shadow then turns into a tall slender figure in a dark blue tuxedo with a black cane and a pumpkin head. “It is, little princess. Everything seems to be at a complete stop once the moon comes out.” the pumpkin figure said while walking up to her. 

Jonna was a ghost familiar, which is something that every royal family member has had and got whenever they turned ten years old. This was meant to have a confidant that they know would never betray them, even after death. Jonna was different from all the other familiars that helped people from Taya’s family. Every other familiar was something along the lines of just another rance known like a human, an orc, or sometimes the familiar would be an animal like her father’s familiar, which was a tiger. Jonna was a tall figure that was almost see through if it wasn’t for the darkness of him. Jonna was just a ghost that had a skeleton body that he wore a suit over and a pumpkin head. He also always had a cane with him because “it makes him feel more suitable for the human realm.” However, he could do some amazing things and some of those amazing things are still a secret to the young elf.

The room began to fall silent once again until Taya decided to speak up again. “I’m going to go on an adventure. Around the town, you know, get to know the layout of the town that I will one day rule. For learning purposes. Would you like to accompany me or will you tell my parents about this again?” she stated while still looking outside the window.

This isn’t the first time Taya has gone out somehow and walked around the grounds. Sometimes she would dance around the fountain in the middle of the down and act like a festival was happening, even Jonna would join her sometimes. However, that was very rare of Jonna to do. Jonna normally reported to her parents about the events that night in order to keep the young princess protected.

“Taya, you know that isn’t a good choice to make. You know how your parents will react to this when they find out.” the ghostly figure said, trying to convince her not to do this. “They won’t know because no one will tell them then, right?” the girl responded while beginning to move the curtains farther back towards the walls. Jonna sighed a defeated sign and replied, “As long as you don’t get caught, they won’t.”

“It’s the dead of night and everyone’s asleep. No one’s even going to know I’ve been gone, well besides you, of course, but you, however, always have to be by my side in a certain range when out in the human world.” Taya said while smiling and moving to get herself changed into her day time clothing.

“What if you get hurt or if someone tries to harm you somehow, Taya?” Jonna asked warily. “That’s why I will call you whenever I need to, silly!”Taya explained without stepping out of her closet. Jonna still felt uneasy about tonight’s adventure. This wasn’t an abnormal thing for them to do and normally Jonna would like to accompany Taya on her nightly walks, even if he would tell her parents after, but tonight felt different, tonight felt heavy to him.

He desperately looked for another excuse for them not to go out tonight and soon one came to his pumpkin head, “You know I don’t know any healing magic if you were to get hurt before calling me and therefore, your parents will find out about our strolls.” The pumpkin stated while walking to the closet and leaning against the wall near the doorframe.

Soon, Taya popped back out with a new dress of navy blue with golden lining on the sleeves and skirt. She looked at her friend while saying “That is a change I am willing to take, just like every other night we have done this. This is normal for us to do, so what has got into that pumpkin head of yours?”

“A change of heart?” That came out more as a question than Jonna wanted to. However, no matter how Jonna tried to stop the young elf, she kept walking to the window on the other side of the room and sighed when she didn’t hear the swooshing of her familiar behind her.

“Jonna, you are my one and only friend. My best friend and, without you, I would go absolutely mad. You above all other beings know just how terrible being alone is like. When  you aren’t in the human world, you go back to nothingness. A black empty void where no one awaits you, nothing for you to do, but sit and wait for me to call upon you.” Taya didn’t look at him while she said this. She knew this was an unfair point to bring up, but she knew this was the only way he would listen. Jonna thought the reason was that if she did turn around, Taya would break and decided not to go out. The pumpkin replied before the girl could continue on.

“I would gladly wait for you here for however long you wish.” That statement made the elf stand up straighter. “I know you would Jonna, but you have to say that. You were created to help me, serve me. That is your true purpose. As much as I love you and our time together, I want more friends than my ghost pumpkin familiar. I want other elf friends, dwarf friends, friends who shapeshift. Don’t you think that would be fun?”

“It would be, but they could just be using you as well. So many people in this world are evil, use others to get money, leverage, and so much more.” Jonna said and walked over to the bench at the window and sat down. “You sound like the royal parents now.” Taya huffed and sat down along with her friend.

“Well, someone has to be the responsible one when the moon comes out.” Jonna chuckled to himself, thinking his little comment was funny. “Well, my friend, tonight is a night where I want to forget about my royalness. So, if you were to please make like a candlestick and quickly vanish, do so now.”

When that statement was said, Taya saying the word “Candlestick” made Jonna vanish. This word was decided upon by the two in case anything were to happen if something were to ever go wrong and they did not want to draw attention to themselves.

After Jonna vanished, Taya got onto the plant vines that grew on the sides of the windows and started climbing down them. She was thankful that these fines grew up this high and no one had cut them down yet. Very soon, she was able to make it completely down the castle and was able to put her feet back on the ground. She then began to sneak across the grounds and hid behind different bushes. She wanted more than anything to look around the town, she was never able to do that, she was barely even allowed to leave the actual building of the castle, let alone the grounds of it. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity for an elf, she made it to the edge of the grounds and was able to get past the gates. 

She then begins to wander around the town that she has for so long looked at from afar. She looks around in wonder, like discovering a new toy because for Taya, this was a whole new part that she never truly saw for herself, she adventures around the land looking at the different  buildings and plants that scatter all throughout. Eventually, she came across a fountain, it wasn’t a small one, but it also wasn’t a large one either. Taya decided to sit down on the edge of the fountain’s base and stared into the clam dark blue liquid that was inside of it.

She couldn’t tell you why she found this calming to her. She simply just continued to state into the liquid and felt content. While the child continued to state into the fountain, there was a shadow that crept up behind her. However, the girl didn’t know that it was there. She was too distracted by the fountain’s contaminants.

As the minutes passed, the shadow continued to come closer and closer to the young girl, being as silent as possible so she wouldn’t hear. The child  still never notices itt coming ever so much closer to her. Now the figure was close enough, and took their shot. The figure quickly hit Taya over the head with the end of what seemed to be a dagger, knocking her unconscious, then grabbing her, and running off out of the land where she grew up.

Anyone would have noticed this action happening, even in a crowded area like this during the day. However, it wasn’t during the day and everyone was fast asleep enjoying sweet and pleasant dreams. This, however, was the start of a long, long nightmare for Taya, for she had been kidnapped and her fate would soon be changing for what would happen next.

[screamingatanemptyroom]

“Where am I?”

My head hurt, a throbbing dull ache that made it hard to think. I looked above me, expecting to see a wide-open sky filled with smoke, to hear the cries of the battlefield around me, to feel the warmth of blood soaking my back.

But there was only white.

More specifically, a stained, white, cracked ceiling hung above me. A small yellow note was secured to the ceiling, written in an unfamiliar style.

"If you can read this, you're human enough to use the key on the nightstand"

Below the message on the note was a childishly drawn heart, the image strangely out of place for the ominous words.

My head hurt more. Human? Am I not even human anymore?

I should have been surrounded by death, betrayed, broken and fallen in battle. Instead, I was in a comfortable bed, my arms and legs loosely chained, staring at a sticky note on the ceiling. I turned my head, groaning at the pain from the movement, and found a wooden nightstand nearby with a metal key. Straining against the chains, I was able to grasp it and free myself. I attempted to sit up, falling to the ground instead. My clothes were dirty and torn, the limbs barely covered were thin and weak.

Where are my muscles?!

I had trained for years to master weaponry, honing my body and mind to be the sword for my kingdom. I had spent my life in battles and the training field. I had never been so weak even in childhood.

I struggled to my feet, walking over to the broken mirror that loosely hung on the wall. As I neared it, a face, thin and shocked, met my gaze.

It was my face…. Sort of.

A thinner, younger, softer version of my face. It lacked the scars from battle, the closely cropped hair to fit under my helmet, skin tanned from long days of training. The only thing that was easily recognized as my own were my bright green eyes… the sign of a magic swordsman in my world. As my eyes met the ones in the mirror, memories flooded my brain, forcing my legs to collapse to my knees.

Marla. Our name was the same.

She was a me… a different me, living in an alternate world. And our lives could not have been more different. She had grown up spoiled, coddled by her parents and older brother. Wealthy, educated, the world was at her fingertips and she had never known want. An easy life, a handsome boyfriend, a dear close friend who helped her in everything….

And then the world fell apart.

I slowly stood up, bracing my hand against the bed. Moving towards the window, I moved the curtain to look outside.

Strange shambling creatures crowded outside the house, moving in seemingly random patterns. In my world we had a similar creature, one created by dark magic. They were weak, and easily destroyed by fire or magic blades. But in this world, they carried a different name:

Zombies.

Zombies, similar to the those featured in the entertainment of this world. Undead beings that needed no rest, but only existed to feed upon the flesh of humans. What was not considered a threat by my world was a different matter in this one.  The larger cities were destroyed in days, with only 10% of the population surviving the first 3 months. Most despaired at that point, as It seemed as if humanity was doomed.

I looked around the room again, frowning at the lack of weapons or armor. A small closet contained clean clothes that would fit, and after a brief search I seized a long metal rod that my new memories informed me was a “golf club.” Normally used for leisure, but it would serve my purpose.

My gaze fell on a bloody syringe on the floor near the bed, and frowned.

What a foolish girl. Her own weakness and naivety led to her demise.

 It would be one thing if she had died fighting monsters in this newly broken world, but she had agreed to have monster blood injected in her. Hoping to develop powers, to become like some of the humans around her, and knowing she would likely die trying.

I looked up at the note on the ceiling once more. The cheerful words seemed ghoulish. She had written it, filled with hope that she would survive the process, scared that she might wake up a zombie instead. She had never had a chance.

“Little girl, we both died too soon. Perhaps it is our destiny no matter what world we live in. But since I have this second chance… I won’t waste it. I will live well… For both of us.”

___________________________

I needed to leave. More and more zombies were gathering around the house, and if I stayed longer, I would be trapped. I packed what supplies I could find into a back pack, and prepared to leave the house. I hefted my new weapon in my hand, and, taking a deep breath, opened the world to the outside.

It smelled of rot and death. The scent of decaying flesh was overwhelming, but I forced myself to ignore it.

It reminds me of the time I led an assault on the necromancer’s tower. It was the same then: dark, dying, rotten.

Several of the zombies heard the door open, and their rotting eyes turned in my direction. Soon, more and more of the undead turned towards me. I planted my feet, gripping the handle of the club in my hand. Eyeing the zombies shuffling ever closer, I took a deep breath, steadying myself, and silently reached for the power within myself.

I didn’t know what I would find, but I looked for it desperately anyways.

Magic.

The power I wielded in my old world, the energy of life that could be honed by the talented and used for battle.

At first I was met with nothing, and my mind shuddered with despair at the thought of facing this dangerous world in this weak body with nothing to aid me. Just as I resolved myself to clear myself a path and run with what strength I could summon, however, I felt something.

A flicker.

The smallest hint of power, coursing deep within my soul.

I smiled. Magic. It followed me here.  It was weak. It was small, smaller than when I first started using magic as a child in my old world. But that was fine. It could be cultivated, grown. I could become strong again… stronger even than in my past.

With the ease of years of experience, I brought out that tiny bit of magic, coating the golf club in it. With a confident chuckle I walked towards the zombies, rather than away from them.

As the first zombie came within reach, I swung the subtly glowing club.

Thud.  

Its head fell to the ground as the magic cut cleanly through its neck. The body stood still for an awkward second, but then slowly crumpled down.

I laughed. It worked. I turned to face the remaining undead.

I knew that zombies couldn’t feel, but there seemed to be some hesitation from the creatures as they sensed a new, unfamiliar power. So similar to the energy they craved from eating flesh, but ultimately very dangerous to them.

I didn’t let the hesitation go to waste. I sprung forward, nearly falling as my weak limbs failed to support the movement properly, but swung the club at an adjusted angle as I caught myself. I pushed myself through the crowd of zombies, leaving piles of decapitated corpses in my wake. It was not a dance, not the smooth coordination I was used to, but it got me through.

Finally there were no zombies left to destroy.

Exhausted, I released my magic and  sat down on the ground, ignoring the filth and stench around me.

This is going to take some getting used to.  Fortunately the magic had kept my weapon clean. I attached it to my backpack and looked around.

It was a suburb, with similar houses lined in tidy rows. Trees and bushes stood in place, branches and leaves moving in the wind. What could have been a peaceful scene was destroyed by the carnage that had swept through: broken glass, holes in walls, corpses scattered on once neat lawns. The sky overhead was grey, the sun was hidden behind a veil of smoke and ash.

If I was to be reborn in an alternate world, why couldn’t it have been a peaceful one? The bitter thought could not be ignored, but deep inside I knew: I was the best suited for surviving in this environment. I was never meant to live a quiet life.

Although I wished I could have at least had the chance to take revenge on my betrayers.

 As I thought about my former friend and fiancé, I hear a familiar voice speak out.

“Do we really have to go check on her?”

I forced myself to my feet, and dragged my tired body to a nearby doorway to hide. As I peeked out from my cover, I nearly fell over in shock.

It’s them.

How could it be them?!!

The desire to kill overwhelmed me as I saw the familiar faces from my world.

Lucy, my best friend, a sworn sister on the battlefield who promised to face death by my side.

Barten, my fiancé, the royal knight who my family trusted my future to.

They conspired together, to betray me on the battlefield. The personal grievance was bad enough, but because they chose that time to turn on me, the consequences were so much more.

The men and women who followed me into battle.

My family, eagerly waiting my return.

The kingdom, that depended on my protection.

All destroyed by their selfishness.

But how were they here?!!

“She still has some of the supplies in her bag.” Barten grumbled, picking his way over the corpses. “I couldn’t take it from her without her getting too suspicious.”

Lucy sighed “Do you think she really injected herself? She’s such a coward, I bet she chickened out.”

“She will.” Barten chuckled. “I told her that I could only stay with her if she gained powers. She was desperate when she left.”

“Didn’t she realize that no one ever gets power from injecting zombie blood? If she was going to get powers, she would have mutated during the initial infection that spread.”

“That idiot would believe me if I told her the sky wasn’t blue.”

“But it’s not blue anymore…”

Barten frowned. “Still… you get the picture. She didn’t suspect a thing.”

“Grrr.”

A zombie walked towards them with a growl, and with barely a look Barten conjured a fire ball and cast it at the undead, burning it quickly to ashes.

Powers.

They laughed and kept walking, while I watched them passed with cold eyes.

They are not from my world. In my shock in seeing them, I had forgotten the memories from the “me” of this world. Her best friend and her fiancé had the same faces and names as mine from my world. They are different, these two have powers, but are still weaker than the two that I knew.

As I thought about their words, however, my eyes narrowed. But where it counts, they are incredibly similar. Both pairs got together behind my back… both betrayed their friend and loved one, leading to my demise.

I thought my chances at revenge were gone when I woke up in a different world. I never thought I would be given such as a chance. They may not be MY betrayers… but it would feel very good to destroy them anyways. I owe the former me of this world that much for taking her place here.

I was too weak now. The brief display of fire casting I had seen, as well as what I sensed they had further abilities, were likely the “powers” that the original me had been so desperate to attain. Until I understood their strength better, and regained more of my magic, I could not confront them.

I hid until they passed me by. I needed to keep moving. It would not take long for them to find me gone from that house. Hopefully they would assume I was dead and eaten by zombies. Either way I needed to go.

As I started to gather strength to get moving once more, I heard the sound of something moving deep within the house. I grabbed my golf club, preparing to attack.

The sound grew louder.

I crouched, my hand tightening on the handle, taking a thread of my depleted magic and desperately trying to wrap it around the end of the club. As the movement came closer, a random thought rose up and couldn’t be dismissed.

If there is one of me in each world, and one of Barten and Lucy in each world… is there any one else from my world that I can meet here?

What if I meet… HIM… here?

I shook my head silently even as I sprang forward, pinning the source of the noise on the ground and swinging my weapon towards its head.

I couldn’t be that unlucky… right?

My hand froze in midair as I caught a clear sight of the person I had caught. A thin, pale face with dark eyes looked up blankly back at me.

“Drak?”

Never mind… I clearly am EXTREMELY unlucky.

I blinked, willing the face before me to change, but no matter how many times I tried, it stayed the same.

The young man looked even more confused. “Do I know you?”

I strongly considered killing him.

As I thought it over, weapon poised, his eyes remained blank and innocent. He was thinner than the man in my memories, malnourished and weak looking.

He’s far from the Drak in my memories.

For an instant I could still see him, shining in black armor, surrounded by an army, reaching a hand towards me.

After another long moment, I sighed and lowered my weapon, I didn’t know how different this world was from mine, but until I knew more, I couldn’t kill this possibly innocent person.

I stood up, offering a hand to Drak, who took it gladly. I almost didn’t have enough strength to pull him up, and ended up using the thread of magic I had pulled earlier to strengthen my arm. As he stood in front of me, quietly brushing the dirt off his clothes, I felt guilty for how hard I had slammed this obviously weak individual.

“I’m sorry. I thought you were a threat.”

He smiled, the expression odd appearing on his gaunt face. “It’s okay, you never know these days. I’m Drak… but I guess you already knew that?”

“Not really.” I shook my head. “I just knew someone with the same name.”

“Who looked like me?”

Exactly like you. “A bit.”

“I guess they say everyone has a doppelganger.” He laughed, reaching out to shake my hand. “So what’s your name?

“Marla.”

He paused at the name, his brow furrowing briefly. “I feel like I should know that name.”

Marla.

 I shuddered for a moment at the voice in my memory.

I will always find you.

“Oh well, guess it’s just déjà vu for both of us!” Drak grinned, seeming to shrug off the strangeness.

“I guess so.” I turned away, “Good luck out there.”

“Wait!” He reached out but didn’t touch me. “Can I come with you?”

“… Why?” My tone was not enthused.

He pointed at himself. “I’m pretty weak and I don’t want to die alone.”

“What makes you think I’m strong?” I gestured at my thin arms.

He laughed. “You had me pinned and ready to die in less than a second.  I don’t know how strong you are… but pretty sure you are stronger than me!”

“…” As I stared at him, my thoughts were in overdrive.

What if he’s like the other Drak?

What if he’s not? My mind argued back. I could be abandoning a weak person to die.

That might be his fate anyways in this dangerous world.

At the end, I sighed. “Fine.”

 I was a warrior. Someone sworn to protect the weak and innocent. I wasn’t sure he was either, but I’d rather err on the side of protection than harm.

“Great!” His smile still seemed odd, but genuine at the same time. He packed a small bag and waited by the door, ready to follow me. I had the brief impression of a happy dog, ready to go on a walk.

“…Let’s go.”

________________________

We traveled the rest of the day, meeting no zombies. I was shocked, given how many had been there when I first ventured out, but counted us lucky. I was due for some good luck anyways.

We made camp in an old computer store, and after I encouraged Drak to let me take first watch, I sat in a meditative pose and concentrated on my magic. As I focused on my usual exercises, to my joy I felt the small thread within me start to grow. I grinned triumphantly.

It is possible to get stronger here!

I would keep practicing whenever I could, growing stronger each day. And eventually I would be strong enough.

Strong enough to thrive in this broken world.

Strong enough to take my revenge against the pair of betrayers.

Strong enough even to defeat…

My brain paused as I looked at the man sleeping in the corner. He was curled up in a ball, cold, almost trembling. He seemed like a strong breeze could kill him.

Drak.

In my world, he had been strong… possibly the strongest. I was the only one who came close, and he refused to fight me. Always insisting on pulling me to his side of things.

But I refused.

After all, he had been the Dark Lord, the evil being that reigned over an army of darkness.

Marla, I will always find you. If the light betrays you, don’t worry, the darkness will always be waiting.  His last words haunted me, if not because his words had come strangely true. I was harmed much more by the so-called good side than I ever had in a fair fight with his people.

But this Drak seemed so different than that strange, powerful being. I rubbed my head with my hand. My mind was confused by the similarities and differences of the two worlds.

Finally I shrugged. Nothing mattered for now except getting stronger.

Once I had strength, I could figure everything else out.

I would thrive in this new world, in this new life.

And I would have my revenge as well.

__________________________

Later that night.

Drak was on guard duty, sitting with his back to the store, gazing out into the darkness. Without street lamps and lights from store signs, the area was pitch black, but he gave no sign that it bothered him. He stared out with a stony expression, the ice in his stare far from the warmth and innocence he had shown earlier in front of Marla.

Shuffle.

A tall thin zombie wandered out of the darkness, stopping a few feet from Drak.

“…” He stared at the newcomer silently, his face unchanged.

Finally, the zombie bent forward in a shaky bow.

“Orders.” It whispered, forcing the request out between rotting lips.

Drak smiled. This was one of the higher level zombies, and he couldn’t be happier with the flexibility and intelligence this group was showing.

“Keep the low levels away from me and the woman traveling with me. If anyone on the way seems to show ill will to us, feel free to eat them.”

The zombie nodded slowly, its dead eyes showing no emotion.

“Girl… danger.”

“Marla?” He smiled. “Of course she’s dangerous.” He had sensed a strange power, that had killed several zombies in a short period. Something much different from the usual abilities humans had shown. Something strangely… familiar. He had come to investigate, and ended up trapped in a house with her. “You are not to harm her… not that you could if you tried.”

“Plan?”

“A plot? Against her?” He thought about it, and then shook his head vigorously. “No. I’m just following out of… curiosity.” The thought of hurting her, betraying her… it made him feel unwell, which surprised him as so few things made him feel anything, these days.

“I just want to know how she knows me… and how I know her.” He could feel it, an invisible connection. Something that made him desperate to follow, to help her.

“Kill… you.”

“Once she knows what I am?” Whatever that is. “Probably.” He shrugged. “Could be worse.”

“…” The zombie seemed to run out of words, it just hung its head, confused.

“Go away now. And don’t approach me unless it’s a true emergency.” As the zombie shuffled away, he leaned back, his eyes open wide as he scanned the darkness.

No zombie would attack while he was here, but that was no reason to relax. There were plenty of humans much more dangerous than a few undead. He glanced back into the store, where Marla was resting. He knew she slept lightly, and holding a weapon. The slightest move in her direction would wake her up and likely have violent consequences.

Why do I feel like I know her? He sighed, and settled in for a long watch. I guess I’ll figure it out eventually. That’s the nice thing about the zombie apocalypse.

It’s not like we’ve got anything better to do.

You wake up with what feels like a terrible hangover, the dilapidated room around you is unfamiliar and you are chained to the bed, written on the ceiling is the message “If you can read this you’re human enough to use the key on the nightstand”

[interiordesignerrrr]

Creative Ways to Revamp Your Living Room on a Budget

Your living room is more than just a space; it’s the heart of your home. It’s where you entertain guests, unwind after a long day, and make cherished memories with your family. But over time, even the coziest living rooms can start to feel stale. The good news? You don’t need a massive budget to breathe new life into your space. With a little creativity and resourcefulness, you can transform your living room into a stylish and inviting sanctuary. Here are some ingenious ways to revamp your living room on a budget.

1. Rearrange Your Furniture

Sometimes, all it takes is a fresh perspective. Rearranging your furniture can dramatically change the look and feel of your living room without spending a dime. Consider creating new focal points, such as angling your sofa toward a window or repositioning your chairs to encourage conversation.

Pro Tip:

Use online tools or graph paper to plan your layout before moving heavy furniture. This will save time and effort while ensuring a functional and visually appealing design.

2. Add a Splash of Color

Color can make a significant impact on your living room’s ambiance. You don’t need to paint the entire room to make a statement. Instead, opt for affordable solutions like accent walls, throw pillows, or vibrant rugs.

Examples:

Paint one wall a bold color like navy blue or mustard yellow.

Invest in colorful, patterned pillow covers.

Lay down a bright area rug to anchor the space.

3. DIY Wall Art

Empty walls can make a living room feel incomplete. Fill them with art that reflects your personality. Creating your own artwork can be both cost-effective and rewarding.

Ideas:

Frame fabric remnants or wallpaper samples.

Create a gallery wall with family photos or thrifted frames.

Paint abstract canvases using leftover paints.

4. Update Lighting Fixtures

Lighting can set the tone for your living room. Swap out old lampshades, add string lights, or incorporate LED strips to create a cozy and modern vibe.

Affordable Upgrades:

Replace outdated light fixtures with second-hand finds.

Use dimmable LED bulbs for adjustable lighting.

Hang fairy lights around windows or along shelves.

5. Repurpose and Upcycle

Repurposing old items can save money and add a unique charm to your living room. With a little imagination, you can turn everyday objects into stylish decor.

Examples:

Use a vintage ladder as a blanket rack.

Convert an old trunk into a coffee table.

Refinish or paint outdated furniture for a modern look.

6. Layer Textures and Fabrics

Adding layers of texture can make your living room feel warm and inviting. Incorporate different materials like wood, metal, and textiles to create depth.

Budget-Friendly Options:

Add a chunky knit throw blanket.

Mix and match cushions in various fabrics.

Use wicker baskets for storage and decor.

7. Incorporate Greenery

Plants can instantly liven up any space. Whether you opt for real or faux greenery, adding plants is a budget-friendly way to enhance your living room’s aesthetic.

Suggestions:

Choose low-maintenance plants like pothos or snake plants.

Use thrifted pots and planters for a unique touch.

Arrange small plants on shelves or side tables.

8. Upgrade Your Curtains

Window treatments can transform the overall look of your living room. Consider swapping out heavy, dark curtains for light and airy ones to brighten the space.

Tips:

Use tension rods for an affordable curtain installation.

Layer sheer curtains with blackout panels for versatility.

Opt for patterned or textured curtains to add interest.

9. Declutter and Organize

Sometimes, the best way to refresh your living room is by simply decluttering. A clean, organized space feels larger and more inviting.

Organization Hacks:

Use decorative boxes or baskets to store items.

Hide cords with cable management solutions.

Invest in multifunctional furniture, like ottomans with hidden storage.

10. Create a Focal Point

Every living room needs a focal point to draw the eye. This could be a fireplace, a piece of art, or even a feature wall.

How to Achieve This:

Hang a large mirror to make the space feel bigger.

Use peel-and-stick wallpaper to create a statement wall.

Arrange furniture around your focal point to enhance its prominence.

11. Invest in Affordable Accessories

Small details can make a big difference. Adding a few well-chosen accessories can elevate your living room without breaking the bank.

Examples:

Place candles or lanterns on side tables.

Display books with attractive covers on shelves.

Add a decorative tray to your coffee table.

12. Embrace Minimalism

Sometimes, less is more. Embracing a minimalist approach can make your living room feel more spacious and serene.

Steps to Minimalism:

Remove unnecessary furniture and decor.

Stick to a neutral color palette.

Highlight a few key pieces that bring joy.

13. Experiment with Rugs

A well-placed rug can define your living room and add warmth. Choose a rug that complements your existing furniture and decor.

Tips:

Look for sales or clearance sections for affordable rugs.

Layer smaller rugs for a bohemian vibe.

Use washable rugs for easy maintenance.

14. Update Hardware

Swapping out hardware on cabinets, drawers, and doors is a small change that can have a big impact.

Affordable Options:

Use spray paint to refresh old hardware.

Replace handles with trendy knobs or pulls.

Opt for mismatched hardware for an eclectic look.

15. Add Personal Touches

Finally, make your living room uniquely yours by adding personal touches. This will make the space feel more welcoming and reflective of your style.

Ideas:

Display souvenirs or collectibles.

Use handmade crafts as decor.

Incorporate items that have sentimental value.

Final Thoughts

Revamping your living room doesn’t have to be expensive or overwhelming. By implementing these creative and budget-friendly ideas, you can transform your space into a stylish and comfortable haven. Remember, the key is to work with what you have, think outside the box, and add personal touches that make the space your own.

For more inspiration and professional tips on interior design and home decor, visit Kasapros.com. Their insights and expertise can guide you in creating a space that’s both functional and beautiful. Happy decorating!

[atplblog]

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[appleciders]

11, 21 😽 mwah

ty meera <3333

11. Something you want to do again next year?

oooh. this is hard bc a lot of things! i want to keep taking hobby classes and i want to keep going to as many concerts as i like and i want to keep making plans with friends and going hiking and visiting family and family friends.... i want to buy unreasonable amounts of baklava and eat it. maybe make it myself even

21. What’s something new about your place of residence (room, home, or general location) now vs the start of the year?

well very recent update is that on thursday i called out sick from work caught the bus to ikea and bought blackout curtains! they are dark green and were so long that i lost patience and hacked the bottoms off jaggedly and i got two wrong kinds of curtain rings in the attempt to not get the wrong kind, so i ended up jerry rigging together some metal loops i had from my sewing kit. also i forgot to buy the separate curtain ends so i have like shoddily command stripped on pieces of cardboard. and i made curtain ties out of old buttons and strips of denim but i can't use it on one window bc the cardboard ends fell off so if i move the curtains the rod falls off the command hooks. so the whole setup is kinda janky as fuck but the sleep*?? yeah man yeah man yeah man

*last night exception unfortch

end of year asks