#gotta rent a whole storage unit.

[goldshadows]

♚♚♚♚♚ x 10000 mwah mwah <3

if you like my writing, accepting

that's so many!! where am i gonna put all of those

[thekinkyleopard]

Move-in Day

A Sven and Elex Canon Snz Fic

⚠️Content Warning⚠️

Snz Fet, Smut, Slight Domestic Bullying, Bj

Author’s Notes: I wanted to write something before October of the new boys 🥹 @aller-geez did the art and owns Sven!

Description: The boys are finally moving in together which is going to come with quite a few challenges. Such as boundaries. Something Elex struggles greatly with as he realizes his boyfriend can no longer hide his secret.

“Yo, 7! Where the fuck am I putting these boxes at? And why, or more so, HOW DO YOU HAVE SO MUCH SHIT?!” Elex exploded over the mountain of packed objects he carried through the threshold of their new rented home.

“Just set them in the living room, Lex…I gotta arrange this bathroom real quick…” the cat sounded distant, lost in his current task of getting their home looking like a home. “Also, you’re lucky I have all this shit or else we’d be sitting on lawn chairs watching some bunk ass TV you found on the side of the street,”

“Hey! I’m resourceful, and it’s handy, don’t act like it’s an inconvenience now,” rolling his two toned eyes. The grumpier of the two finally walked through the abode and set the large boxes down with a THUD. “Okay, so there’s this shitload in here and still 48 more shitloads in the truck..how the fuck do you expect to fit all this stuff? Where the fuck were you keeping it all??” The green haired mongrel looked about the small space of their two bedroom one and a half bath home.

“I had a storage unit, and decided to collect home decor the second I started getting a paycheck,” Sven now came walking out of the bathroom, fiddling his hands with some sort of plastic between them. “I figured I was going to need stuff if I was to inherit the family business…til Drae got adopted,” rolling his orange slitted eyes as he now stood in front of his grouchy boyfriend. “You’re welcome,” he stuck his tongue out at the other who swiftly grabbed it in between his index and thumb, giving the organ a light kiss before releasing it. “Hey!” Sven lapped his tongue and tried to remove the taste of Elex’s salty fingers.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re not the one fuckin’ luggin’ it all in here!” Snickering at his own cheeky behavior, and the other’s narrowed eye response.

“Go grab the rest of the shit tons you cretin,” snorting a bit through his nose, truthfully in hopes the man would skitter away faster because truthfully he could feel, deep within his sinuses, it was coming. He forgot to take his allergy meds, in all actuality, he packed them. That’s why he was unpacking the bathroom first. Yet, it seemed, he did not pack them according to his memory so he thought. Which means his allergy medication was floating somewhere in the several boxes he had recently packed. He sighed deeply.

“Why are you so antsy today? Like there’s a fire under your ass, chill,” Els looked the cat up and down almost worried he may explode into flames.

“Can you please just go get the other fucking boxes?!” Sven finally cracked, it was any minute before he started up, and he wasn’t ready. He wasn’t ready for Elex to see him actually sneeze without it somehow being stuffed behind something or completely swallowed back.

“Alright! Fuck! Someone’s on their Fuckin’ period,” the badger scoffed before taking his apparently needed exit, grumbling the whole way as he did so. He was alone. Sven looked around and quickly fell into disarray. He outwardly sighed and allowed himself to feel like he was full of rocks. Body visibly slumped from his perfect posture. The second he did, there it was, having been waiting in the dark depths of his allergetic sinuses. His nose began to twitch, and as he scrunched it back and forth…a sneeze came shooting out.

“H-!! H’Tshhkt!” He shook his head back and forth, puffs of spray hitting the air as he almost looked like he was fighting off a ghost. Hands flailing. “Ktch! N’GSH!” He groaned swiping at his nose with the sleeve of his white button up. “Stupid…N’GT! Allergies…H’tshh!!” He continued as he scrambled around the home full of boxes for anything he could use. “Bathroom!” He quickly shouted running back towards the area, snagging a string of toilet paper off the roll he’d set up. “Thank god…” he mumbled before blowing his nose, roughly, violently, with real purpose. He wanted not a single drop left when he was finished. He rubbed at his nose so adamantly there was a gentle clicking sound emitting from the area. Unbeknownst to him, Elex had re-entered the home, with another armful of boxes, muttering about heavy useless garbage, why not get stuff at the dollar tree. Sven’s head snapped to the bathroom door and he quickly shut it with panic. Locking the knob.

Elex sat the boxes down and at the same moment, heard the bathroom door click, as it were being secured. “Sven?” He called out curiously, his head tilted to the right as he walked towards the bathroom now. “…Sven??” Starting to feel a bit worried his voice picking up to that of slight panic. His boyfriend wasn’t the silent type, and he knew the badger was nosey, so typically calling for him would have triggered some sort of response in update. Yet there was nothing. Elex furrowed his brows and stepped forward to jiggle the knob.

From the other side Sven sat up against the wall, fighting for his life. ‘Fuuuuuck why are you so nosey Elex ?!’ He screamed internally as his body worked against him. “I’m uh…” he called out trying to speak without interruption. “I’m..Nn..trying to shit…do you..KT! … mind?!”coming up with something he seemingly found less embarrassing than sneezing…..shitting? He panicked. Wiping desperately at his nose in hopes it would keep it settled.

“Uh…k my fuckin’ bad,” Lex held up his hands defensively and smoothly turned from the door to give his partner some privacy. He plopped himself down onto..well…one of the sturdier boxes, and started scrolling through his media news feed. Every so often snorting a chuckle through his nostrils. He could be shoveling in more boxes, but why would he do that right now?

Sven gasped for air as he finally realized Elex was no longer standing by the doorway. He grabbed a handful of toilet paper and formed a perfect little nest, because he was surely going to need it. He huffed, hitched and his watering orange eyes rolled into the back of his head before he blew his mess into the handful of paper. “Hh’gsch!! K’GNSH!” Though his sneezes were relatively quiet, not too much to be bothered by the average listener, Elex just barely heard the whispering end of it. He looked up from his phone. The man was a walking question mark symbol as he slowly got up from where he sat and quietly crept closer to the door. “H’tshhkt!! Hppt’CH!” Sven tried muffling them into the now dampening piece of mulched tree, but unfortunately for him, the sound traveled quite fluently in this new home.

Elex was standing at the door, ear pressed tightly against it with one palm flattened beside him to keep him steady, his darkened patchy skin, illuminated a bright pink. Sven was sneezing? Openly? Without him?! Clearly the cat was trying to hide it…but why? What was he so ashamed of? Frankly…his little sounds were quite delightful. He bit his lip before listening in for more.

“Fuck…Nkch! Ngt’ch!! KTCH! Pleeeease…” he tried to reason with the universe to allow him just a smidge of freedom from this darkened, evil curse. This was supposed to be a blissful day. He was supposed to enjoy this new found independence and be able to enjoy his new life with his boyfriend. Not held up in the bathroom sneezing his brains out of his ears. “Hh’gsch!! Hptt’CHHH!”

Elex couldn’t stand it anymore by this point, so he pulled his head back and gently knocked again. “Sven? Come on puss, why you still in there?”

“Go away Lex! I can’t let you…H’GNXT! see me like this…” stifling into his hand, long abandoning the soiled tissue. He couldn’t allow Elex to see him this way, he couldn’t! It was humiliating! The opposite of manly! He couldn’t do it.

“Babe…seriously just open the door,” The badger began to grow impatient. “You either open it, or I knock it the fuck down, pick your poison cause this hiding secrets shit isn’t going to fly with me,” now feeling a bit more grudgeful. Why was the man acting like this? Reserved and hidden? He was usually so passionate and proud! An open book almost, but this was starting to concern the green haired male.

“No! You’re going to laugh at me…” a muffled, insecure voice was heard through the thin wood of the bathroom door. It almost made the Badger soften, almost. That wasn’t like him though.

“Barker, I’ll take ‘Things That’ll Never Fuckin Happen’ for 800 please…Puss, open the damn door,” trying to reason with the other by sprinkling in some light humor, his knuckles still tapping against the wooden material. Eventually, the green haired male heard the click of the lock and the door came slowly creeping open. “Puss?” He called open from his position, before sneaking his head in first.

He saw Sven a mess on the ground, sniveling and sniffing as he rubbed his reddened nostrils, clearly having been fighting a battle in here, surrounded by discarded tissues. “Don’t look at me..” he whimpered with his head hanging low, the loose strands of his aqua hair hiding the disdain behind those glossy orange orbs.

“Oh Puss…” he chuckled shaking his head back and forth, taking a seat next to the smaller. “You sick?” He asked curiously, placing a flat hand on the other’s back and rubbing him lovingly.

“No…I can’t find my Allergy medication…” Sven sighed pitifully, shaking his head slowly back and forth, hugging his knees as he tried his best to starve off what was surely inevitably coming back for more.

“You have allergies too?” Els turned his head, cocking his pierced green brow with curiosity. Surely, he knew the other had some allergens but, so severe? No wonder he never noticed if he was always on meds or stifling….

“Yeah…myself…I’m allergic to MYSELF! K’TCHH!” His face fully vermillion now as he sneezed into the crook of his elbow, trying to avoid a mess across the two of them. Ashamed and embarrassed by his very existence.

“Oh babe…” Elex clicked his tongue and ran his once back rubbing hand, now through the strands of soft colored hair. “What can I do?”

“Not perceive me..SNNDDFF…Nkch!” The quick sniffle to clear his sinuses only made it infinitely worse as he twisted his nose in large circles across his face, then scrunching it with vicious fervor. “Ktch! K’GNSH!”

“Well, that ship has long fuckin’ sailed my face exploding lover, but I can at the very least offer you a distraction,” now bringing both his hands up to massage each of Sven’s shoulders, causing the Cheshire to relax a bit under the touch, his tension slowly melting under Elex’s hands.

“What do you…K’GTCH! Have in mind?” Forcing it out into the palms of his hands as he tried to stay intrigued and engaged within the conversation with Lex, who in turn couldn’t wipe the brightened blushing red hue off his own cheeks.

“Oh you know…” trailing his hand down the front of his boyfriend’s chest, he stopped at his audibly clinky belt, fiddling with the mechanics as he leaned closer into Sven’s soft, orange cat ear. “Suck you senseless?” Starting to work the main belt pieces loose, as it clanked open swiftly with expertise.

“Ng…I might..h’…might quite..nkcht! Enjoy that…actually…sndf,” struggling to make it through his sentence as he grabbed another load off the toilet paper roll, finding it almost needing replacement yet again. Jesus.

Elex licking his lips and swiftly began chewing on his lower lip ring. “I honestly don’t know why you were hiding those sounds from me Sevvy~ I reeeeaaallly enjoy them…” already working his partner’s belt loose from his pants as he slid it out completely and tossed it to the side of the bathroom. “I find it actually…”

“KTCH!” Sven couldn’t hold back another, snapping his hand back up to his face to cover himself, he blushed brightly, his crying eyes now looking over to make contact with Elex’s hungry glare. Whom was bringing his hand back to his mouth.

“Mmm, fairly selfish, that you would hide such an arousing fact about yourself….” Spitting into his palm with a lustful force that made the cat swallow harshly.

“A-Arousing? What are y-you even talking about…Hh’GSCH!” Humbled again, his body shook with the force against the side of Elex’s body, that now hovered him.

“I think you know…Stud,” diving his newly dampened hand into the hem of Sven’s boxers, and taking hold of the other’s hard cock now, Els continued to chew his piercing.

“N-Nuh…uh! Aah~” the aqua haired man tried to argue but it was no use as his pleasure receptors began to buzz and vibrate within his entire body, feeling his boyfriend’s slick hot hand now working his awakening length.

“You’re so shy?? For what reason my strong, handsome, pussy cat? It’s just me…” Lex’s hand twisted expertly, knowing all the right spots to make his normally in charge boyfriend, purr. Els squeezing with lustful power as his digits worked to please him.

“Y-You’re so Lu-lucky I can…t…Hnn..K’gnsh!!” Falling back against the wall, his hair fell beside him, sticking to his slowly dampening temples as his sneezes continued to make him jolt and spray. His nose relentlessly leaked despite how many times he swiped and rubbed at it with the dryer sides of his handful of paper.

“Can’t wait? Toss me around and stick it up my ass? Treat me like the slut I deserve to be?” Snickering lightly into the other’s ear before nipping it playfully, his thumb dipping and teasing at Sven’s aching head.

“Elex…” he moaned loosely, sniffling with soft reserve as his eyes shut tightly. “…Jesus do something with that dirty fucking mouth besides talk shit hm? Sndfff,” snorting back a sneeze, some congestion and a whole lot of vulnerability, Sven took a fistful of Elex’s hair now and dragged him to the space between his legs. “If you’re gonna…hptt’ch!” Using his free hand to brush the leaking fluids from his face. “Be about sucking my dick, then be about it…you foul mouthed whore,” his wet orange gaze now snapped open and narrowed down at the taller of the two, who blinked several times with his multi colored gaze before a devious smirk slid across his lips.

“My pleasure, boss,” settling comfortably between Sven’s thighs, the Badger slowly pulled the cat from behind a wall of boxer and forced open pants. Face to face with it, the green haired man shivered in anticipation, sticking his split pierced tongue out he wrapped it delicately around the head, slipping each side up and down, opposite of each other. This caused the cat to gasp loudly, his grip on the forest locks only tightening.

“Shiiiit…” the warm metal balls rubbing and teasing the ridges of his head was almost enough of a distraction to keep his allergies at bay, but almost doesn’t pay the bills. “K’tchh! Ngt’chh!” Using his free hand like a tissue, though it was already pretty used up and clammy by now, it was all he had. The toilet paper was inconveniently out of reach now. The sounds and scene of his feline boyfriend blowing out, only fueled the naughty badger even more as he spoke once.

“Don’t stop doing that…” Elex now swallowed Sven’s length in one swoop after his plea, slipping the large cock furthest down his throat he could. Taking his right hand he began to fish it inside his own jeans, needing to release at the sight of this. A special occasion, a new secret unlocked. Everyday he learned more and more about the elusive cat and it only drove him further in love with the asshole. His tongue, caressed and hugged around the cat’s length in a whole new way no other without a surgery like his could. It was almost one Sven’s most favorite things about the slightly younger, beside his overall personality. He liked his boys a little, spicy. Sven would loosen his grip upon the other’s hair only to tighten it back up the second his cock would hit the back of his throat.

“H’h…aah~ nn..El…H’tshhkt!! Nkch! Ngsh!” The older of the two cried out gently, his small explosive light sneezes dusting and decorating the space now between them. Cascading down onto Elex’s face causing the badger to moan around the other’s thick length. “I’m-..so…H’NgXt! Nnch! Hah…close…” fighting to at least finish the thought while his eyes rolled into the back of his head. Elex sucking purely on his tip before pushing down again. The taller’s head continued to bob gracefully, each side of his tongue working over time to massage and press at every individual dip and vein. His hand pumping quickly at his own leaking, needy member.

As each second passed, with Elex’s mouth on his cock, and the new found freedom that the other was less than a bully about this exposed secret, his groin tightened. “Elex…” he groaned his lover’s name, pushing his head with each downward suck, he couldn’t take it anymore. The badger was simply too fucking good at pleasing him. His back straightened against the wall and he threw his head up with existential pleasure. Sven came, hard inside the other’s working mouth. His hips stuttered and he forcibly shoved Lex’s throat down almost drowning the other in his explosive seed.

No matter the difference. Els swallowed every drop as his own shaking fist began to stagger and suffer. Trying to keep pace but finding himself lost in ecstasy and before long his efforts were just enough to send him over the edge, filling his boxers with cum. “Fucking shit….” He hissed plopping Sven’s cock from his mouth as a thin white line of fluid dribbling down his chin now. Sven chuckled, watching his mate in the throes of an intense orgasm, he reached over with his thumb and swiped the line of cum from the other’s face. He held his hand there for a moment , caressing the other’s discolored cheek, while Elex tried to catch his breath.

“Sndfff…Thanks…” he huffed, out of breath between the allergy attack and his lover’s mouth.

“For the blowjob? No problem,” chuckling playfully as El now too sat back, but against the lower cabinet of their sink.

“No…for not making fun of me,” he shrugged. “I know it’s one of your favorite past times but…this time it meant a lot that you didn’t,” Sven smiled over at the badger who met him with a cocky grin and a roll of his duo colored eyes.

“Hey I might be an asshole, but I can read a room…plus…you’ve grown on me through the years…I can’t make you wanna kill yourself ALL THE TIME…” chuckling loosely before reaching over and lightly gripping the other’s chin lovingly before letting go.

“Touché…” the cat responded with a carefree smirk and a quick reach to grip, and hold onto Elex’s hand.

“I love ya, Puss, stop keeping secrets, alright?” The badger said softly, his thumb rubbing over the top of Sven’s embracing hand.

“Yeah, alright. I love ya too, kid,” his orange eyes sparkled with slight mischief but overall love for the bratty male.

“Don’t fuckin call me that,” his green and brown eyes shifted to a narrow glare, sizing the other up now and ripping his hand away from Sven’s loving grasp.

“I’ve told you several times to stop calling me puss,” the Cheshire shrugged almost unphased by this sudden mood swing the other was having, since he was always having one.

“Puss is cute! You’re a cat! Kid is fuckin’ weird…makes me feel less manly, stop it,” pouting now, folding his arms across his chest he certainly fit the description more than ever now. It was more or less not helping his case.

“Whatever you say, kid,” shifting slightly the badger jerked forward and slugged the cat in his arm, hard, no holding back, he did not care and there would surely be a bruise the next day. “Ow! You god damn animal!” His voice said stern but his facial expression said bring it, always ready for some rowdy action.

“Yeah well, maybe it’ll teach you to listen! Dick for brains!” Sticking his tongue out with defiance, Elex continued to uphold his protests, folding his arms back up over his chest.

“Zip it, you neanderthal, and get up…help me find my damn meds…Sndfff…” Sven snuffled loudly again and finally began to lift himself off the bathroom floor, extending a hand out to his partner, offering help but was met with a very stubborn badger.

“Maybe I don’t want to…I’ll have you sneezing all over this house for my personal enjoyment,” turning his head swiftly away to avoid looking at his boyfriend, still pouting, crossed up and avoidant.

“There really is something mentally wrong with you,” bringing his hand back in, Sven now also crossed his arms over his chest and slowly shook his head at the very bratty man on the floor in front of him.

“Yes, but you knew this, and still chose to go out with me, so what’s that say about you? Huh Einstein?” Sharply turning his head back to deliver his final argument it actually made the cat shrug his shoulders and nod his head in agreement.

“You make a sincerely valid point, now please help me unpack all this shit…” again, the cat unfolded his arms and reached a hand out to offer, one more time, his mate a lift back up to solid footing.

“That’s better, a please never hurt no one,” finally, Elex took the offering of the cat’s hand, and connected their palms in a hitch. The shorter of the two promptly pulling himself up on to his feet again. Elex subconsciously began to wipe down his pants and wash his hands.

“I fear I may have made a mistake moving in with you….” Looking the other up and down, he sincerely was starting to question whether or not he made a good choice. He did after all move in with an unhinged criminal that he often stood toe to toe with many times through out their childhood together. This surely, was going to be a rollercoaster ride.

The End

Author’s Notes: What better way to break in the new couple than some smutty snz action. I hope you all enjoyed the new OCs and their sexy, slightly abusive and toxic dynamic. 🫠🫠🫠 I’m sorry y’all we needed something with a bit more umpf. Elex is so BabyGirl 🤭🤭 he just won’t ever admit it 🤪

[morticious-delicious]

Moving is horrific enough without all this, too. 

ID below the read more: 

[ID: Three screenshots, first is of three tweets (out of thirteen in a thread) from twitter user Tigerbeansarts that say “Guys if you were going to rent a house and it had a LOCKED storage space that you enter thru the upstairs BATHROOM ... 1/13 hashtag reads moving woes

And you notice the WHOLE HOUSE is w/o Air Conditioning however there IS an AC unit in the STORAGE LOFT (visible from inside the attached garage). 2/13 

It has a window. There are two bathrooms without a window but the loft has one. and also in Google pics (old, there is grass in the front instead of the current landscaping) the window is open and with a fan stuck in in it. 3/13″

(Next screenshot is the following five tweets in the thread): 

“Are you legally allowed to ask what’s up there? Is it flammable? Need to be ventilated? Perishable? Alive? IS SOMEONE LIVING IN MY FUTURE LOFT and WHY DON’T WE, the renters, GET THE LONG ASS ROOM FOR OUR USAGE?? 4/13

its 3000 square feet. Its so much house. But there’s the fact that we may have a Hugo Simpson living on the other side of the kids bathroom 5/13 

In addition, when we drove by previously, there was a pit dug out on the side. You ever (see the) 1987 horror film “The Gate” with Stephen Dorff? Yeah when we went back it was just dirt, all smoothed over.  hashtag reads Gatekept Gaslit 666/13

Look, we have to be out by the first of February and all I want is space for my family and all the shit we acquired while retail therapy-ing during quarantine. This house is grand and drafty and has ample room for entertaining guests. 7/13

It also absolutely looked like a creepy old witch lived there or maybe an old couple who were Satanists in the 70s (for the aesthetic). Which I gotta admit the truth- it turned me on. 8/13″

(final screenshot is the last five tweets in the thread) 

Its also connected to a whole community (which is a turn off) but maybe some Rosemarys Baby vibes there now. Number 9/13 

All of which I dig except for the part where I’m pulling my kid out of a tree or trying to coax my daughter from a TV set with static which, I don’t know how we’ll manage with a Roku. hashtag reads Roku no Static Channel 10/13

You have to understand- I’ve lived in a haunted house before . We learned to co-exist. But (if) the walls start dripping blood like- we’re not gonna get our deposit back with a stain like THAT, Beezlejuice. hashtag reads not enough sage in the world 11/13 

Anyway our second choice just went off the market. Just like the first house we loved and asked to view. All signs are pointing to whatever lurks in this dark little cul de sac WANTS me there. Am I gonna finally have to baptize my kid? 12/13

At the end of the day- it has a pool. & the man can have an office and work from home so there will be proof of hashtag reads Paranormal Activity, and I won’t have to be the poor little stir crazy house wife all “I never should’ve dabbled in Wicca and DND and yoga and veganism (crying face emoji)  waaaaaah” 13/13.

Made some small corrections to grammar. End ID] 

[rosysugarr]

that awkward moment when you realize a whole lot of the reason your mental health has tanked is bc you have like two outfits to wear and ran out of foundation ages ago and these sound like fuckin. dumb luxuries but you'd gotten so used to having them that you don't feel like yourself without them

there is a lot more whining under the cut but I've just gotta get this off my chest so.

like. at the height of my mental health, the best point I have ever been, I did fancy-ass full face makeup just about every day, and wore different bows and stuff in my hair, and yeah that stuff isn't NECESSARY for anyone, makeup and accessories and clothing are just fun accessories, for some people they end up forming such a part of your identity that without them you just. don't. feel right anymore. like when I look in the mirror I don't Look like me. but it's really hard for me to explain this in a way that doesn't make me sound like I'm all "I HAVE TO WEAR MAKEUP TO HAVE THE RIGHT TO EXIST" like no that's not what this is, this isn't like. me failing to deprogram myself from misogynistic expectations of beauty, god knows most of the makeup I did was shit nobody would consider required to be on anyone's face. but it's more like. I guess with makeup and my clothes I feel more in control of how I can present myself to people? like I have much more choice in how I can present myself and be seen by both myself and others, and it's very comforting.

like. almost all of my clothing is still HOPEFULLY in a storage unit in another city that I can't afford the rent on. hopefully it hasn't been thrown out but either way I had worked so hard from having nothing to save up and get myself better, nicer things that I felt Right wearing, and now I'm once again stripped back to almost nothing, and it fucking sucks. I have like. a couple of outfits that Actually Fit and they're nothing like what I WANT to be wearing and I feel really uncomfortable in them, but they're what I have. and I have literally two pairs of underwear that I swap between and just. wash one when I swap out to the other. it sucks! I miss feeling like ME. I was finally starting to get to a place where I was able to look how I wanted to, where I was able to feel like the person I've wanted to be for ages but couldn't be, and now it's all gone again. fuck.

[viktuurionice]

So tumblr is really the only social media I post about being disabled on because I'm pretty anonymous here... >_>

But like... I'm disabled and on food stamps.

Getting someone e-begging in my dms on insta is like... bro I'd like to help but I literally dont have the funds to do so. Like I get that people are in a desperate spot. But like. My rent is 2/3 of my income, then I have a storage unit for things I can't have in the single room I'm paying for, and I gotta cover food and things for my cat, and anything else not covered by food stamps. (Getting her spayed last month was a hit to the finanaces) I'm usually broke by the end of the month going "oh boy I can't wait til the first!" Then I pay rent asap and the whole cycle starts over again.

Like I get people are desperate, I am too, I just keep it to myself. (Not saying others should. I just... don't like asking for help online.) So maybe people think I have more more I do but like. I am poor. If I had money to spare I'd send some over PayPal or something but I don't.

Like I would sincerely LIKE TO HELP but I have to make sure my own expenses are covered first.

[lovelyirony]

Through flames and oceans (for the fic title)

u know. this was supposed to not go the direction it did. but it did. 

People say they will do a lot for love. They will walk through flames, cross an entire ocean for love.

Bruce tells himself that that’s the stupidest fucking thing people say. He, for one, will not do that. There is also the unspoken reason of that love really isn’t in the cards for him.

Currently, he’s running away from his ex-girlfriend’s dad, General Ross, because he may or may not have done some experimentation and turned into a rage monster, but also revealed some state secrets.

Come on, can you blame him? Cosmo said twenty-year-olds need to accomplish something before they hit thirty. And he’s quite sure he just made the list.

But as for love, he is thinking about it right now because his ex-girlfriend found a very nice girl named Valkyrie, and they’re kind of set to have an engagement party, and “would you please come to the United States to help us celebrate?”

Betty is a wonderful woman, really and truly. And Bruce is okay with how their relationship ended, because it’s not like Bruce could come to family dinner and expect anything besides murder or maybe cold potatoes. And Betty deserved someone far better than him, and from the picture that was sent, it looks like Valkyrie is an amazing catch.

But there is the small matter of making it to the States without getting caught. He is on quite a lot of “no-fly” and “travel restrictive” protocols. This sucks, by the way. He had frequent flier miles saved up and everything.

It sucks, at least, until he remembers Tony’s number and calls it.

(Tony had given him his number, but sometimes he forgets that four and nine are two distinctly different numbers.)

“Brucie, baby! What can I get for you? Don’t worry, the government hasn’t been able to tap my phone calls since I was seventeen and mostly joking about finding out where their secret weapons storage is.”

“Betty’s having her engagement party, and I’m invited. I kind of need a ride home.”

“Where are you located at, right now?”

“Buenos Aires.”

“You lucky son of a bitch, god I miss it there. You having a good time?”

“When I’m avoiding government agents, yes.”

“Hm, well i’m sending a new employee of mine to go and get you. Big guy, probably Swedish.”

“You don’t know?”

“I don’t presume if someone’s Swedish or not, Bruce. I’m a terrible person, but not that terrible.”

“I...I don’t follow your sense of humor.”

“No one does, that’s why celebrities call me avant garde and ahead of my time.”

“Good to know. What’s your new guy’s name?”

“Thor.”

“Are you...are you fucking with me?”

"Darling, you’d be having a much better time if I was.”

“I don’t like the energy we’re manifesting here,” Bruce deadpans.

Tony snorts. “Okay, hippie. He’ll be there by tomorrow morning. Just stay tight where you are, sugar.”

-

Thor is a gigantic man. He parts crowds like it’s what he was meant to do, and maybe it is. Bruce stares up at him.

“Hello Dr. Banner,” Thor says, smiling gently. “You are Dr. Ross’s friend, right?”

“Um...yeah. I am.”

“Excellent. I’m a friend of Valkyrie’s, is it okay if I go ahead and fly out to the airport nearest their house?”

“Uh, is Tony okay with that?”

“Of course. And we can stop at your house if you need anything.”

“Oh, I don’t have a house. Or an apartment. You would not believe how much the US government hates my credit score.”

Thor chuckles a little bit, leading him back to a nondescript car.

“Right this way.”

-

Thor is cool as a cucumber on the outside, as they’re driving. He’s mindlessly tapping on his phone as Bruce stares out the window.

Inside? Oh, Thor hates Val for this. So much.

so, you didn’t think to send me a picture of dr. banner? just the address?

lmaooooo called it. betty owes me something now. fuckin nerd. just ask him out.

no. we still have to bypass american security

which you are “old hat” at. or did i forget that you nearly almost charmed the pants off of one of the airline people?

we don’t speak of that.

relax. stark’s taking care of it anyway.

The airplane ride home is uneventful, thank god. One of Tony’s jets awaits, and the pilot is very surprised to see a man who ranks number four on America’s Most Wanted List to be there.

“You...you know Tony?”

“And you know what an NDA is,” Tony announces over the intercom. “Bruce, welcome. Mimosas are premade, in stock. Sit back and enjoy the ride! Thor, you do what you gotta do to make sure Bruce stays safe. Enjoy the bridal shower!”

The pilot is a bit apprehensive. But mostly okay. Bruce promises nothing’s going to happen, he’s just going to drink tea and catch up on news about the current state of things.

Bruce gets bored with finding out that things are still terrible, so he talks to Thor.

“So...are your parents just really into Norse mythology, or did they know you’d come out a huge guy who has the potential to probably stop Ragnarok?”

Thor chuckles, the laugh rumbling and deep.

(Okay, that’s hot.)

"My parents’ names were Odin and Frigga. You could say they were traditionalists when it came to my brother and I.”

“You mean...?”

“He embodies the name a bit too well for my taste, but yes.”

“Oh. Wow.”

“Yeah. Let me tell you about the time we accidentally crashed a fashion week thing...” 

Bruce laughs a lot about that story. Thor’s laugh is majestic, and they sit a little bit closer. 

-

By the time the plane lands, they’re great friends and Thor reaches over Bruce in the baggage area and wow that man has very defined muscles. 

Not that that’s important. No, that’s like. Not important at all. So what if Thor is very well-muscled and maybe this will play into Bruce’s intrusive thoughts/daydream thoughts at later intervals? Does not matter. At all. 

(Oh god the man smells like salty ocean air Bruce has got it so so bad. So Bad.) 

- 

Tony greets them at the landing pad with a wide grin, eyes lighting up. 

“Well, don’t you two make the happy couple,” he teases. Bruce turns red. This does not go unnoticed. 

“Bruce, honestly, you run away from government and my friendship, and this is what gets you--” 

“A bridal shower? To get me home? Yes,” Bruce says, cutting in not-at-all smoothly. “Now, where are Betty and her bride staying at?” 

“Oh, they’re staying at the cutest little bed and breakfast for their bridal shower. Rented out the whole thing--well Pepper did, it was our wedding gift to them, and of course I mean Pep’s wedding gift, because I have something else planned-” 

“Please tell me that you do not have a house bought for them,” Thor says. 

“Complete with a laboratory and gymnasium,” Tony says with a wink. “I’m kidding, they already have a house. I just kind of kicked them out for a week while I remodel their entire kitchen. Val gave me the colors, I was surprised that she has taste.” 

“If she hears you say that, she’ll kick your ass.” 

“Which is why she won’t,” Tony reminds Thor. “Now, let’s get to unpacking. Bruce, I’m getting you some good shampoo, holy shit your hair sucks.” 

“Thank you Tony, I love and value our friendship and our kindness towards each other as well,” Bruce deadpans. 

“Oh come on, you have to look good. It’s your ex’s wedding party!” 

“You make us sound so dramatic,” Bruce says with a snort. “We broke up. Big deal.” 

“You and Betty...?” Thor asks. 

“Yeah, but it’s fine. We were dating, and then I pissed off her dad, who happens to be a general. I mean, also the government. But mostly her dad.” 

“Wow.” 

Thor’s type shouldn’t be feral scientist. But it is. 

They’re led inside, and Tony bids them goodbye. 

“Duty calls,” Tony says airily, waving. “Make yourself at home, don’t put coffee grounds down the disposal or I will kick you out. Rogers is still nursing his wounds.” 

“Noted,” Bruce says. 

“I drink tea,” Thor answers. 

Bruce shares a look. 

“You too?” 

“Yeah, I prefer it over coffee most of the time.” 

Bruce smiles. 

“I think we’re going to get along.” 

- 

They have a couple of days until the wedding party, and Thor has never seen New York. Bruce is fairly sure that no one will even see him on the CCTV footage as long as he’s walking next to Thor, so he deems it good enough to go and get a bagel. 

Thor is a very gentle man. That’s a good quality. 

He smiles at a little girl, who is staring, open-mouthed. Even gives her a little wave. Bruce grins. 

“You like kids?” 

“I do. They mostly just want to have fun, want to see what the best of the world is. I think we all need that occasionally.” 

“I’ve never thought of that,” Bruce confesses. He takes a sip of his coffee.

“I love watching my cousins,” Thor continues. “The way they grow and figure it all out, it’s rewarding. What about your family?” 

Bruce freezes. 

“Um. I don’t exactly have a family.” 

“Then you’ll just have to meet some of my cousins,” Thor amends, smiling as he sips his drink. “You’d like them.” 

“I’d like that,” Bruce says, grinning. “What’s next on our New York agenda?” 

"I told Loki I’d visit some stores for him and pick up some items he’s been wanting.” 

-

Have you ever seen a sales associate from Chanel be terrified at your presence? No? It’s worth it. 

Bruce is kind of concerned. 

“I...are you...?” 

“My name is Robert, uncanny similarities,” Bruce responds. “We both were born in Ohio.” 

“Why is it always Ohio,” Thor mutters. “You reckon my brother would want this shoe or that?” 

“Ooh, definitely go with the heel. I think that’s good.”  

“Gotcha.” 

Next shop is Dior. 

This goes a bit out of hand. His whole line about being Robert with Incredible Similarity does not go as planned. 

He and Thor are on a subway, currently running away from some authority figures and calling Tony. 

“I was in the middle of learning drama about high society that I can use in my next romance novel, are you joking?” Tony hisses. 

“You write romance novels?” Thor asks. 

“Now is not the time to question that, I’m in the middle of making sure you get a car to your next stop. How well do you both know what a Chrysler is?” 

“The building, right?” 

“God, I hate you so much,” Tony groans. “No, um...it looks like the wing things that they give army people when they do something that I guess they think is cool.” 

“Oh. Okay. Get in that car?” 

“Yes. It’s gonna be red with silver detailing.”

“Tony, they’re gonna know it’s us.” 

“Believe me, they won’t. Trust me.” 

- 

So as it turns out, it’s not the most ostentatious vehicle. 

Because Tony pulls up in a lifted pick-up truck, painted a sparkling, neon green with bright orange wheels. 

It is the ugliest goddamn thing Bruce has ever seen. Also the most effective. 

Thor nearly shoves Bruce into the car, and they’re sitting too close, and Bruce probably shouldn’t be focusing on the fact that Thor’s hair is now artfully messy, but here he is. Doing that. 

“So, sorry that before the wedding shower we’re being hunted down by the government.” 

“Not the worst thing that I could be doing on a Friday,” Thor says with a shrug. “I think you’re just about the most interesting person I’ve met, Bruce.” 

He smiles at him. Bruce’s heart skips a beat. He can’t tell if it’s because of the eye contact or the fact that they’re in close proximity. Maybe both. 

“You wanna go on a date after all this?” Bruce blurts out. 

He does. And as soon as he says it, he kind of regrets it because they’re in a car with glittery silver interior seats and he’s also in pants that have seen better days, and his hair is a Mess. 

(Also self-esteem issues, but Bruce is used to that so he’s not counting it.) 

“Like, after we get home or when the government gives up on finding you?” 

“I don’t know. Whichever one comes first?” 

“Technically, I think I count as army jurisdiction, and military budget is a fountain of money.” 

“Ah. Then home it is. How do you feel about ordering in?” 

“Mm, sounds good,” Bruce says, grinning. “You’re the best.” 

“Well, I certainly try,” Thor says, grinning right back. “You wanna go to Betty and Val’s shower together?” 

“Yes. Do we have to amend our ‘how-we-met’ story?” 

“Not at all. Valkyrie used to run an underground fight ring. She knows the feeling.” 

“How has that not come up in conversation?” 

“We were kind of preoccupied trying to figure out what a Chrysler car looked like.” 

“Oh, true.” 

- 

At the wedding party, Bruce and Thor are very happy. Betty and Val roll their eyes and laugh as they talk. 

“Leave it to my dad to ruin everything,” Betty gripes. 

“Well he didn’t ruin this party or my meeting Thor,” Bruce defends. “Besides, you know what happens if he steps a foot near you.” 

Betty grins. 

“You serious?” 

“Can’t promise you’ll get your security deposit back, but yes.” 

Betty pulls him into a hug. 

“You’re too sweet to me.” 

“Yeah, tell me that after he steps on the limousine.” 

“Eh, I wouldn’t worry,” Thor says, grinning. “I think Tony has some sort of security feature worked in.” 

“Oh, he does,” Val says. “He’s threatened to pull some of the contracts for safety gear. Won’t go through with it, but Ross can’t touch the wedding. Best gift ever.” 

- 

When the party gets late, Thor and Bruce are sitting out on the porch. Clean-up is happening, and they’re taking a break. Thor thinks that Bruce has never looked more beautiful in a rumpled yellow shirt, soft lights making his face glow. 

“I’m glad I met you,” Thor murmurs, moving a stray curl. 

“Really?” Bruce asks, smiling softly. “I think I’m glad I met you too.” 

- 

Bruce grins behind his door when they make it home. Thor had kissed him on the cheek, and while that wasn’t too big of a deal, it was a big deal to him. 

“See you in the morning, dear,” Thor had told him. 

He was going to be up half the night with that line running through his head. 

- 

A lot of people do a lot of things for love. Bruce still wouldn’t walk through flames, or swim across an entire ocean, but he’s starting to understand. 

[whirlybirbs]

☄     -----    MOONRISE RADIO. 

summary: you’re hawkins high’s new science teacher, faculty advisor for the newly reinstated hawkins av club, and crazy townie who overhears a russian comminucae on a broken ham radio. chief jim hopper is into it. joyce is a good wing-woman and the kids just want to listen the the buggles.  pairing: jim hopper x reader, murphy as a placeholder surname. rating: t, some swears. word count: 3.8k a/n: this is a season three au! here’s the set up for all the drabbles i am going to end up writing for hopper bc he literally owns my whole ass, thanks, enjoy ;)

Hawkins, Indiana is a small town.

For this exact reason, Chief of Police Jim Hopper knows everyone.

... Seriously.

Everyone.

Hawkins is kind of like Saturn: try to leave its orbit and you’ll get caught in the rings -- literally. Y’know, high school sweethearts marry one another, settling down, and boom! Hopper winds up at their end-of-the-cul-de-sacs on domestic dispute calls and reunites with that shithead co-captain of Hawkins basketball team who keyed his car Sophomore year.

Life in Hawkins is a never-ending cycle of existence that renders everyone in the small town a familiar face. Everyone knows everyone’s business. Everyone knows everyone. 

And everyone certainly knows Jim Hopper.

So, imagine his surprise when after her first day of high school, over a ravoli dinner, El nudges a crumbled pink piece of paper his way with an excited look on her face. The paper is well-loved paper and home to her new class schedule, a point of interest -- she’s marked what classes she has with the boys and Max.

“I like science,” she says with a full mouth, “Fun.”

El points to her sixth period.

Imagine Chief of Police Jim Hopper’s surprise when he sees an unfamiliar name. Someone he doesn’t know.

And she teaches science.

Summer fades with a wave of heat and full moons.

The last week of August creeps up on you and before you even realize it, you’re moving into the cleared out room of a retired Mrs. Gomez and hanging your own name up on the door along with three planetary mobiles, a periodic table and a big exo terra tank for the freshmen class pet on the back windowsill. 

One period turns into six, and a week turns into three.

Your life begins again, Hawkins style.

“Miss Murphy!”

You’re wiping down the chalkboard, smearing drawings of ionic bonds into dust when the stampede begins.

Typical Friday.

You like Mike and Will and Lucas and Dustin and El and Maxine. The little squadron of hellions had managed to win you over easily within the first three weeks of school -- between the abundant D&D references and constant “curiosity voyages”, you’d seemingly become their go-to with questions, gossip, and over-all mentor-ship. 

The whole bunch of them sat together in your sixth period class, and the whole bunch of them were really the only ones excited about Dash, that aforementioned freshmen class pet that you’d scooped up behind the school and saved from being roadkill.

El immediately wanders to the tank and makes sure the heat lamp is on.

You can’t help but smile. These are good students. You like them. They like you.

Maybe it’s because when you were younger, you were just like them.

It’s like a sixth sense. They just... know. 

“We have a question.”

“Is it about reptiles again?” you chirp, wiping your hands, “I don’t know, like, anything about komodo dragons, Dustin, I told you --”

“No!” Dustin waves his hands, hopping up onto the edge of your desk, “No, this is about the AV Club.”

“AV Club?”

Mike rolls his eyes. “The AV Club!”

You blink. All six of them are looking at you expectantly. You deadpan.

“You lost me.”

“She’s new here, guys,” Will sighs, gently nudging Lucas who makes an O with his mouth, “Remember?”

“Right, right, right,” Dustin sighs, waving his hands with a charismatic no-front-teeth smile, “Sorry, Murph, my excitement precedes me --”

You shoot Dustin a look. No nicknames. He knows the rule.

“Make it quick,” you groan, waving an apologetic Dustin off your desk as you begin to collect papers from the previous period, “I have the open house tonight and I gotta get some grading done before -- you’ve got fifteen to catch me up on this AV Club thing.”

Lucas claps his hands. They all settle into the desks in-front of you.

You narrow your eyes.

Mike begins.

“So, there’s all this old radio station equipment in the top of the gym...”

You wring your hands.

You fiddle with the hem of your dress.

This is nerve-wracking.

For the first time in a while, you curse the fact you’ve got mostly freshmen in your classes -- with every new round of bright blue visitors stickers, parents are eager to pick your bones when you begin talking about your curriculum, expectations and the like. I mean, it’s good, you guess, that there’s parents who are engaged but... as a new teach at Hawkins, you can’t help but feel like you’re missing a part of the bit.

It’s nearing the end of the night now and you’ve noticed the parents don’t greet you like they do the other teachers. Like... like friends.

Maybe it’s because you’re new.

New to the town, too. Not just teaching high school science, you mean.

You wonder if all the news stories pouring out of that Hawkins Lab have anything to do with how cheap rent is in the area. The multi-family unit you’ve settled into is in a nicer suburb in town -- green lawns, a playground, neighborhood BBQs... You’d moved on the pretense of your hiring, excited at the chance to get out of the city for a while and live a quieter life.

You jump six feet in the air when someone knocks on the door-frame of your classroom.

“Oh my god --”

Your hand flies to your chest.

“Uh, sorry -- Sorry, is this... is this Miss Murphy’s room?”

The first thing you notice is the badge. It glints in the florescence.

The next thing you notice is... him. I mean, he’s tall -- tall and broad and intimidating but... soft. His eyes are tired and his voice is quiet and you’re staring, Jesus Christ, you’re staring --

Chief of Police Jim Hopper has never felt smaller.

You’re new -- definitely new. Hopper knows, in that moment, that you must be, He would remember someone like you. I mean, how could he not?

(Everyone knows he’s got a soft spot for beautiful women, but he’s damn near mush right now. Pudding. His knees are pudding. He is an idiot and his knees are pudding.)

He makes the doorway look tiny.

You sputter. “Y-yes! Yes, it is. Hi, I’m, uh, Miss Murphy.”

“I figured,” he chirps, lips quirking under his mustache. He waves the piece of paper in his hands, “Kinda... kinda said so on the schedule, y’know?”

“Jim!”

Immediately, someone shoulders his backside.

Right in the damn kidney.

“Christ, Joyce, ow --”

“Be nice!” she cries with a laugh, stepping around him.

The woman is comically smaller than the police officer before you. Joyce has a kind smile and sweet doe eyes and she excitedly rushes to shake both your hands in her own.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you,” she gushes, “Will has said so many great things about you --”

Your eyes widen. “You’re Will’s mother? Will Byers?”

“Yes!” she nods, “Yes, and, uh, this is Hopper --”

Joyce nearly snorts when Jim just blinks. She elbows him. He jumps.

He was staring.

“Jim Hopper,” he clears his throat, trying to regain any semblance of composure. This really knocked him off his game -- you really knocked him off his game. He was fully expecting some nasty old widow to be teaching, not a young, brightly dressed woman who’s smiling at him, Christ almighty, smiling, “Chief of Police.”

He offers his hand. You shake it and your lips quirk. “Are you... here to investigate me, or...?”

“Oh!” his eyes widen, “No, no, uh -- El is my daughter. Adopted.”

“Ah, right. Miss El. Got it,” you laugh a little, nodding, “Groovy.”

“Groovy.”

(Joyce narrows her eyes, grinning between yourself and Hopper. Groovy indeed.)

“She was nice.”

Jim’s cigarette glows red in the evening September air. Joyce, beside him, has this horrible, conniving look on her face -- the same look she gave him when she convinced him to ask Jenny Gonzalez out Junior year -- and Jim immediately goes on the defense.

“I dunno what you’re talkin’ about.”

“Miss Murphy,” Joyce grins, “I saw you staring.”

“I was not.”

“C’mon, Jim,” she chirps, “She’s pretty --”

“Yeah, a pretty bad idea.”

Joyce rolls her eyes so hard Hopper can feel it.

“Listen,” Jim says, flicking his cigarette into the pavement, “With everything goin’ on, I don’t have time for something like that.”

“Jim, stuff like that doesn’t care if you’ve got time.”

Joyce watches him climb into his truck. He slams the door shut,

“If it’s meant to be, it happens anyways!”

He narrows his eyes.

Then, cranks the window down and raises one finger.

“Not on my watch.”

Famous last words, Jim Hopper. Famous last words.

Happy Monday.

“I’m joining AV Club.”

“...What?”

“AV Club. Science. Fun.”

Hopper just takes a looooooong sip from his morning coffee. Eleven stabs her eggos. She forks a hunk into her mouth and chews.

Hopper takes another sip.

“AV Club.”

“Yes. Radios.”

“Radios.”

“Yes.”

You’re sweating.

The storage space of Hawkins High’s gym is ninety degrees at least -- and here you are, brandishing a flashlight in the dark as the Mighty Hellions dig through the space and pull box after box from the makeshift sauna.

“Think this stuff still works, Murph?” Maxine asks.

You ignore the informal nickname and pull open a box to eye a bundle of cables. They’re in good shape. The mic, at the bottom, is too if not a little grimy.

“I don’t see why not.”

After a grueling hour and a half, they finally set up shop in the closet across the hall from your classroom. It’s usually where they keep glassware and Bunsen burners but... with a little begging and a dejected look from Dustin, you grant them their plea and help them set up the impromptu radio station with relative ease.

The desk in the center of the room -- Mrs. Gomez’s old one -- is a little wobbly, but it works.

“And now,” says Mike, “The moment of truth.”

El flicks the switch.

And nothing happens.

Not so Happy Monday.

"How was AV Club?”

“Sad.”

Hopper’s mouth is full.

“Sad...?”

“Radio is broken.”

“Oh,” Hop hums, “M’ sorry, kid.”

“It’s okay,” El says slowly, looking out the window on the ride home, “Miss Murphy buying us new wires.”

Hopper blinks. “Miss Murphy?”

“Yes. Nice.”

Very.

Joyce rings you out the next evening at Melvald’s.

“I’m surprised you didn’t try Starcourt.”

You laugh a little. “What, that super mall?”

“I heard they’ve got everything,” Joyce chirps, “Will and the kids go there nearly every weekend. Ice cream, movies... you name it. A great place for a date, I bet.”

You laugh and pull out your wallet. “Oh to be young and in love.”

“No kidding,” she grins, taking the cash, “Speaking of... are you...?”

“Young?” you laugh, propping your elbows up on the counter, “Or in love?”

“Either.”

You like Joyce. She’s funny. 

“No,” you sigh, “Nope. No, not right now. Neither. I spend my Tuesday nights with wine and a TV dinner.”

“Y’know,” Joyce hums, a knowing look in her eye as she bags the radio supplies, “I know someone who does the same exact thing.”

It’s Miller High Life, actually. And Tostitos. 

That’s besides the point, though, because while Joyce is still very much on his case about the new science teacher, Jim is very much focused on the fact none of the stations god damn radios are working.

He could really go for a beer right now.

Something is jamming the signal.

Actually, to clarify -- the same fucking song on repeat is jamming the signal.

For the last two hours, it’s just been Video Killed the Radio Star by The Buggles over and over and over and over again. And then again, just for good measure. On the fourth round of the song, Jim had unceremoniously lobbed his walkie across the station. On the tenth, he’d yanked the chord for the radio out of the wall.

If Hopper hears that fuckin’ oh oh sound one more time, he’s going to lose it.

Callahan just shrugs when, finally, the music stops and the booming voice of Dustin Henderson comes over every walkie in the room.

“GOOOOOOOOOOD EVENING, HAWKINS INDIANA!”

Hopper peels into the high school parking lot.

Long strides carry him through halls that he knows way too damn well -- halls that wind and turn and lead him right to room 305. Your name is scrawled across the door alongside a picture of a constellation and a beaker.

But, the classroom is empty.

And then he hears it.

“-- OH OH! VIDEO KILLED THE RADIO STAR! --”

“I am so sorry, Chief Hopper -- I had no idea that was the PD’s frequency.”

You’re wringing your hands but you’re also two beats from laughing and Hopper is really trying to keep it together because... I mean, it’s funny. 

Jim pinches the bridge of his nose. He feels bad. He... well, he probably shouldn’t have slapped the broadcasting mic out of Dustin’s hands. He’s got a short wire now-a-days, blame the whole Hawkins Lab incident and the fact he’s essentially harboring a fugitive and allowing aforementioned fugitive to go to high school and jam radio channels with Today’s Top 40 in her free time.

“No, no -- I... It’s fine. It’s fine, really, just...”

Hopper drops his hand. You’re trying your best to hide a smile that’s threatening to sweep across your whole face. 

“Do not let Dustin play any more of The Buggles, okay?”

You chew your lip and lean closer, whispering. “... Did it really play for two hours straight?”

Hopper’s nostrils flare. He nods weakly. You note the missing walkie from his belt.

And then you burst into laughter.

You buy more cassettes at Melvald’s the next week.

“Oh,” Joyce grins, holding up a Madonna album before scanning it across check-out with a beep, “Nice stuff -- is this for AV Club?”

You laugh. “Let me guess, Chief Hopper told you about ‘The Incident’?”

Joyce's lips quirk and she tilts her head, eyeing you carefully as you bite back a smile and muscle out your wallet from your bag. “... No, he did not.”

“The kids were on the wrong frequency,” you gesture, a bit sheepish, “And, I mean, I had no idea until Chief Hopper had to come to the high school and let us know that he’d been listening to Video Killed the Radio Star for two hours straight.”

“Oh god.”

“Yeah,” you raise your brows, pull a face and mimic the catchy hook, “Oh oh god.”

Joyce snorts.

“It’s not working!”

“Boys,” you sigh heavily, “Just... Just let me look at it.”

There’s a scramble and the sea of bodies part. Max and El are posted by the door, watching with a dejected sort of disappointment. Your knees hit the floor and you ignore the fact your jeans are going to be covered in nasty dust from the underside of Mrs. Gomez desk. Your necklace jingles and you sigh, settling on your back and waving for Dustin to pass you the flashlight.

“Did Hopper break it?” it’s Mike, “If Hopper broke it, I swear to shit --”

“Language.”

“Sorry.”

You squint, pushing apart the mess of wires and sighing loudly when you find the problem.

It’s... weird. Like... Like some of the wires have been chewed clean through.

“Looks like one of the wires is frayed.”

“Frayed?!”

You take the main component home with you.

It’s sitting on your passenger side seat when you pull into Melvald’s.

In the spot in-front of the store sits a Hawkins Police Dept. truck with a CHIEF decal on the side.

“She’s funny and smart and came in here and talked about you --”

“Talked about me?” Jim’s leaned against the counter, coke in his hands, “Hold on, what? You didn’t tell me that.”

“Yeah,” Joyce’s voice lilts, “She, uh, was telling me about The Buggles incident.”

Jim groans. 

“Oh, yeah, when I nearly drove my fist through the kids’ new hobby?”

“-- Funny, she left that part out --”

“I made an ass of myself, Joyce.”

“Hey,” Joyce coos, throwing her hands, “Maybe she likes that about you... y’know... your uncanny ability to be a... uh, an ass?”

“Nice.”

“I’m kidding.”

The shop door dings and Chief of Police Jim Hopper chokes on his diet coke.

You stop short in the doorway. 

The store is mostly empty -- it’s almost closing time, anyways -- and you can’t help but feel like you’re intruding on Hopper and Joyce’s conversation, especially when Hopper is cursing and wiping at the soda spilled down the front of him. 

Overhead, Movin’ Out by Billy Joel plays.

“-- Workin’ too hard can give you a heart attack-ack-ack-ack-ack --”

“Miss Murphy!” Joyce grins, “Hi there!”

“Hi Joyce,” you smile, nearing the counter. You can’t help but hide a smirk as Hopper sighs and stands. He drops his hands to his side and you get a full view of the coke down the front of his uniform, “Chief.”

(A little part of him dies inside then.)

(Joyce sees it.)

“Evening, Miss Murphy.”

“Rough night?”

“Little bit,” he heaves, downing the rest of his soda and crushing the can. He lobs it into the trash can beside the register with ease, “Well, duty calls, ladies.”

“Duty calls?” Joyce asks, crossing her arms. Suspicion paints her features.

She’s trying to get him to stay -- trying to goad him into a conversation with you, just like she always does, but the problem is that Joyce is a great wing-woman and honestly? 

That kind of terrifies him. 

It’s been a minute and a half since he’s considered anything more than a one-night stand with someone. He’s been busy, y’know, saving this dimension and keeping a top-secret government facility secret. 

“Yeah,” he deadpans, not feeding into it, “Duty.”

“Duty.”

You blink between them both.

Jim’s out the door with the tinker of the overhead bell.

Ouch. You turn to Joyce.

“I don’t think he likes me very much.”

Famous last words.

“Testing, one, two, three --”

You groan, switch frequencies one more time, and throw your hands.

Maybe the whole Hawkins High Radio Station idea was never meant to come to fruition. It hurts to admit it and you know the kids are going to be so damn upset, but no amount of soldering and wire replacements seems to be getting this hunk of junk to give out any sort of signal. 

You take a long drink from your glass of wine and collapse back onto the couch.

Then, you hear it.

"I’ll be sure to let Chief Hopper know, Miss Murphy.”

“Listen, I... Is he here? I’m kinda in a rush and this is sort of important --”

You’re pushing past Florence, the nice secretary, before you even realize it.

You’d known Hawkins was a weird town. That much was pretty clear from the odd disappearances, government labs and toxic leaks. But this... this is more than just weird. This is borderline panic inducing.

Hopper has a cigarette between his lips and his hat on his desk when you barge in.

He jumps six feet in the air and spills his coffee.

“Jesus --”

“Listen, Chief, I know you’re a real busy guy, but --”

“I am so sorry, Jim,” it’s Florence, moving to put herself between you and the Chief, “Miss Murphy, please, if you can take a seat, Chief Hopper would love to hear all about your top secret Russian communicae when he’s done his coffee --”

When Jim’s eyes widen a mile, you realize he knows something you don’t.

Jim feels small in your living room.

It’s a nice place -- furnished with plants and art and your TV has a stack of sci-fi movies atop of it. In the middle of your rug, though, sits the ham radio surrounded by a winding mess of wires. It’s off, and when you near it, you wring your hands. You’re nervous, he can tell. You can hardly stand still.

“Do you think I’m crazy?”

Hopper blinks. He clears his throat. “What?”

“This... Hopper, I swear, I heard Russian --”

“No, I... I believe you,” he says slowly, narrowing his eyes, “Hawkins is a...”

“Weird town?”

“Weird town.”

You nod slowly then, crank the on switch, and the radio hums alive in a language neither of you know.

Hopper just sighs. 

“... What do you know about radios?”

“It’s close,” you say finally, blinking up from the manual, “It has to be -- I mean, this specefic model only broadcasts and receives up to fifteen miles. That’s... what? Like, all of Hawkins?”

“Just about,” Jim hums, hands on his chin, “and what about the channels?”

“I mean, it’s messy -- I hijacked your frequency. On accident.”

Hopper smothers a smirk with a drag of his cigarette. You grin. His office back at Hawkins PD falls quiet for a moment and you catch yourself staring again. Across from him, you squirm a bit in your seat and turn your attention back to the Olympia Radio booklet. 

“There’s no way of tracking the channels,” you sigh, “I... I dunno. I’m kinda out of my element here.”

“What is your element?”

“Chemistry,” you chirp, “And biology. And some physics.”

“Chemistry, huh?”

“Speaking of which, I know you don’t like me much but,” you rush, blinking up at him, “Thanks for believing me.”

The moment would have been sweet if Hopper hadn’t reeled backwards, like he’s been punched. His face screws up in confusion and he waves, cigarette smoke halo-ing around his head as his mustache twitches.

“Wait... hold on --”

“It’s okay,” you console, “Seriously, I... I’m new around here, I... I get it a lot. Folks don’t really trust the new girl next door. Especially with everything that’s been going on.”

“I... I never said --”

You serve him a look.

“Duty?”

“... I panicked.”

“Panicked?”

Hopper sighs. “You’re just as bad as Joyce.”

Your brows raise. “Are you and her...?”

“No!” he cries, “No, no, I... I am single, I am very single, and I am very busy, but despite that, I still would like to ask you out to dinner, and that is terrifying, okay --”

You blink. “You... what?”

Jim’s about to try and dig himself out of his metaphorical grave when the radio flares up again.

You scramble to grab the recorder and Jim turns the volume up -- quickly, you record the repetitive sentence and when the line finally goes silent again, you spare Hopper a look.

“How about dinner and Russian For Dummies?”

[jadeimpala67]

Rant ahead and idk how to add that cut page thingy

_______

Lemme tell you what "moving up the corporate ladder" in America looks like, when you're poor.

When you're making minimum wage or less, you get housing assistance. Food assistance. Medical assistance. Which comes in handy since you literally cannot support yourself.

I'll use my state, Connecticut, as an example.

In CT, the minimum right now is $10.10/hr.

The state will help you if that's your only income. With everything. You may not get the best of the best, and a lot of the doctors you see won't actually care, but all of your appointment are covered. Your medications are covered. Emergencies are covered. Food, covered. housing takes a long ass time, but you're covered. As you live paycheck to paycheck and literally all of your money to bills.

That was my life. Never had the best doctors, but at least I could be seen by someone. I could get out the teeth rotting my skull. I could afford to eat for a while. Back at that job, the state minimum was $8.25/hr. But we survived.

Then I got a raise at my old job, the state cut my stamps to $14 a month. A month. But I tried not to panic because I lived with other people and we pulled our weight. And we had friends from wealth willing to help us if we needed it - which it was rare of us to ask.

Then time passed. I moved a lot. The state minimum was raised to $10.10. I got my current job and worked part time.

But then I became homeless.

Now see, dear Tumblr, this is where shit gets tricky. Because when you're homeless, you can't buy food in bulk. You can't. Where would you put it??? Critters would get to it. How would you cook it? No, you had to spend money every day to make sure you were fed. But that doesn't mean you stop paying your bills.

I was fortunate. I didn't have a car or insurance. I had a phone ($72.56/m), and a storage unit ($52/m). BUT. I got paid bi weekly, and only worked part time. I was bringing home an average of $320 a week. So roughly $640 per paycheck. But I didn't have a car - which meant I had to Uber to get to places I needed to go.

I had to buy food, every single day. I had to expand my wardrobe so I didn't have to go to the laundromat every 4 days. I had to spend money at Dunkin and Subway so I wouldn't get kicked off of their property for loitering - which bought me time away from my unit so I wouldn't get arrested.

Now it wasn't ALL bad. I was definitely more fortunate in some areas than others. But I also needed a laptop (not only for gishwhes, but to have something to charge my phone with/use for music and tv. Phones only lasted for so long.) ($120 - discounted from original price of $165). I needed a new backpack because mine was falling apart ($60), which I still have. I needed new shoes after 3 months because I walked so much.

It's impossible to save money when you're homeless. Everything drains it away.

Now fast forward to a year later. I'm finally in an apartment, roommate, my own room, switched to overnights so I get $1 more an hour, more bills, upped to full-time, due for a promotion.

I'm making $12.10/hr. Which sounds great! Right? Except - now I have benefits. That are being deducted from every paycheck. So now. Bringing home an average of $362/week - which is a lot less than I was taking home making 8 fucking dollars an hour. But now I'm also getting it every two weeks. $725, on average, every two weeks; sometimes with overtime, if I can get away with it (usually we can't).

So now in addition to all the new bills I have to pay (rent, rent a center washer and dryer, my phone, Netflix, 2 credit card bills), that's half of my paycheck already.

I never make it paycheck to paycheck - I run out of money about a week in, so my coworkers and my grandmother help me out, which I pay them back for on payday. There's another huge chunk, gone.

Then there's times I gotta pay for therapy ($70), and now my psychology appointment ($85). My new ADHD meds are $25.66 per perscription.

So, after all of that, let's do some math what my average month looks like-

$725 x 2 (avg. paycheck for two months)

$1450

-$175 x2 (half my rent automatically comes out per paycheck so I'm never late)

- $75 (phone)

- $95 (RAC)

- $32 (credit card 1)

- $95 (credit card 2)

After all the big bills, that leaves me with $897.34

After therapy -$70

$827.34

After my med check appt -$56

$771.34

After refilling my prescription -$26

$745.34

Now that's for the whole month. I never see that grand total, because that's now how bills and living work. So let's be hypothetical and just divide it down the middle, k?

$745.34/2 = $372.67 to last me for two weeks.

$372.67 to pay for food, Uber, and emergencies.

Uber to get to my job from my home is anywhere from $11-$16 depending on the day to day - one way. Which means if I don't have a ride in, I gotta spend about $30 round trip to go to work and get home.

Idk about you, but I usually end up spending about $200~ on food. Both immediate snacks at work to get my through the shift, and buying in bulk to take home.

(lemme put it to you this way, sometimes I need a little caffeine to jumpstart my work day, $2.50, or I can buy an entire carton and being that shit home $4)

Now it comes to this - right now, I've got $29 left over in my bank account, $30 I owe my grandma in cash, and roughly a $32 balance on my credit card. I'm sick. Like really sick. I've got an infection in my throat and it is kicking my ass.

I don't have free healthcare anymore. I've got "real" healthcare through my job, with a $3,000 deductable. Which means I either pay the whole thing out if pocket, or a partial amount.

Three years ago, I had strep, I just went down to the nearest walk in clinic, gave them my medicare insurance, walked away with antibiotics, I was fine within a week.

Just. Fucking. Now. I had to spend $6 to get to the nearest clinic, waited for 30 minutes, just for them to tell me that because I was a new paitent with this insurance, my "best case scenario" would be owing them $120. For a strep test and antibiotics.

Obviously, I don't have $120 fucking dollars. I was turned away. So now I STILL have an infection, no medication, no loa note to being to my job to save my ass, and I'm faced with the delema of "Do I go to work anyway and risk passing this infection to the general public?? Or do I take the paycut, risk my job because of an absence, and get stuck with a shitty paycheck by next payday, because now I'm missing day 3 of work this month alone?"

America doesn't want you to do better.

If you're poor, you've gotta stay poor. If you're rich, then stay rich. Otherwise fuck you and your health, and your dreams, and your bills.

[flashfictionforpittance]

Cirque De La catastrophe Itinérante

(Requested by Anon, who contributed ideas for most of the main characters, plus some ideas for scenes, some of which sadly couldn’t make it into the finished story.)

Valeria blinked. The inside of the crate currently passing as her coffin stared back, with its yellow sticker that marked fragile contents cutting through the dim light. Previously, it'd sat on the outside, but they'd flipped the lid so she'd have something to look at. Lyca's suggestion. Not one of his better ideas, but they couldn't all be winners. 

Val slid the lid off with her fingertips, and escaped in a fine mist into her room where she reformed like a shadow being restored after a flicker of light. She stretched up, her fingertips brushing against the shallow, tented ceiling, her joints cracking like glow-sticks. 

Her room left a lot to be desired these days. As Val stepped carefully around it, reminding her limbs and digits how to move like the living's, she absorbed the ramshackle boudoir that her family had tried their hardest to make cosy in their daylight hours. The drapes were moth-eaten and the rug was full of what Jaya called "schmutz,"- hairs and crumbs and dirt and the like. She had a suspicion one of the lycanthropes had donated it. The cobwebs on the wooden panels that served as walls weren't a problem. The termites were. Val's good coffin, permanently sequestered in a secure storage unit in the city until the infestation was dealt with, seemed awfully far away during these long days in the crate, spent tossing and turning and trying to keep the splinters out of her skin. 

But still. Val clicked her fingers and blue smoke broke out their tips like she'd used them to snuff out a match, billowing out first like a ribbon, then a cloud, then a river, winding around her curves, her bare shoulders with the textbook pin holes at the base of the neck, over the voluptuous hips, all the way to the ankles where it trailed off, then  hardened into a purple gown that clung to her as she slid her feet into her heels, pressed her day-hat over her curls, and strode out of her bedroom door. 

Beyond? Chaos. Hell. An utter travesty of a circus, new in town and fatally unprepared with half its acts still hungover from the bickering and fatigue so symptomatic of months on the road, and only two hours until their debut. 

Val stepped into the hall, and was met immediately with a small ocean of knee-high clowns that was crowding the tented hallway. She towered over row upon row of the pint-sized performers, each one wearing the same baggy trousers, wide-collared shirts, harlequin makeup, and the exact same expression, that being of absolute dread. 

"Gentlemen," said Val, her voice well exercised in careful diplomacy. "to what do I owe the pleasure on this fine morning?"

"Out," rumbled Iggy, their spokesman. Almost identical to his two scores of brothers, Iggy was notable for his open collar, which constantly displayed the deep scarring on his chest. This too was identical to the others, who kept theirs hidden. "Oleg's at it again."

"Oh my," Val pressed her fingertips to her forehead, pretending to nurse a migraine. "what's our lead harlequin done now?" She didn't have to guess. But who knew, maybe this time-

"Your senior clown has eaten another..." Iggy began and trailed off, the haughtiness that'd overcome his fear now subsiding as his brothers paled in unison. He beckoned Val to bend over. She bent, inhaling their collective smog of cologne and cigarette smoke. "another unattended."

Oh well. Maybe one day he'd surprise her. "Ugh," Val swept her hand back over her forehead, watching for the nods of approval from within the small crowd that'd amassed around her. "my stars. Don't worry, my faithful clowns. I'll see Oleg remanded for this," she straightened Iggy's bow tie for him, grazing a finger against the stark-white flesh beneath his collar, and those scars that so closely resembled letters. "I give you my word. Oleg has taken this too far. He'll be dealt with swiftly and without prejudice."

It wasn't that she'd be doing nothing. But that Iggy was more placatable than he let on. Which is why he didn't quite protest as she stepped over him, and headed down the hall. If she kept moving fast enough, by the time he caught up with her she might just have figured out how to keep him and his entourage around. She snapped her fingers again as she walked and pulled a thin purple thread out of nothing, which thickened into a long cigarette holder. She plucked a cigarette out from behind her ear and slotted it into the end, snapped again to light it, and took a long drag. She should already tell it would be a long day. 

The physical body of the circus was that of an octopus; the Big Top where they entertained guests was at the very centre, with its tented tendrils curling all over the rented field it was occupying, each limb branching into rooms for sleeping, eating, feeding, casting, summoning, sinning, and generally sharpening one's skills. It was a nightmare to put the whole thing up, she was told. 

Between Val's room and the Big Top there was just one other space- the mess hall, where all the acts came to share space, relax, and enjoy one another's company. In theory. If the mood of the circus could be emblemized in one location, it was here. And perhaps symbolically, it was empty and showed signs of recent chaos; the four long benches were overturned, bowls of stew spattered all over them, the ground, and the purple-pinstriped tenting that enclosed them. The table from which Kook, (the circus' former magician,) usually dished out whatever he could remember the recipe for, was split in two, the vat upturned and a waterfall of what resembled mutton making its slow, congealed journey to the floor. On the other side of the table, Kook was was trembling on the floor, hands raised above his head like he was deflecting projectiles. He'd disappeared into his own top hat a while back, was gone for a whole year, and didn't come out quite the same. He started at the sound of Val's voice, looking around like he didn't recognise where he was. 

"What's gone on, Mr Kook?" she asked. 

He blinked up at her, eyes bloodshot. "Oh, this? 'Tis strange, isn't it ma'am?" he looked furtively around, as if waking suddenly from a nightmare. "I can't rightly say I know. I-It's rather fuzzy, ma'am."

Val crouched beside him. "I see. Do you remember anything at all?" he hadn't been drinking- at least, Val couldn't smell it on him. Sadly. If he'd been the culprit this whole thing could've been over then and there. 

The magician's forehead creased with effort, the dark circles under his eyes deepening as a sigh escaped his gritted teeth. "I, well. I was here, dishing up as you do. Those Cat Creatures were griping about the food, though that's nothing new. Probably on the prowl for a fight, cos' Jaya and Eucaria made an e-exit when they came in- or was it just Eucaria? Could've just been her, though I'm sure Jaya left too-"

"Kook," said Val in her least impatient voice. "Please, try to focus on what happened in here."  

"S-sorry sir-Ma'am, I mean, Mrs Ma'am, Ms Ma'am Sir," he paused for a moment to collect himself. You could see the colour leave his face, draining out as if a valve had opened. "I think it all went funny when the Lycanthropes arrived. Yeah, I remember a lot of growling, lots of smashing. And gnashing. Then something hit my head, and t-then," he gestured loosely at the sky. "Fairies. But that's nothing new. They always show up after a disaster."

"Shit," hissed Val. "I thought all the shapeshifters had reached an understanding? Tonight's act has been months in the mati- making...I don't suppose you know what caused it?"

Kook shrugged. "Who knows with them. They're more beast than human on most days, aren't they? Giving me dirty looks, sharpenin' their claws on the furniture, leaving rabbit pelts all over the place. Filthy werewolves, were-cats, all of them," a frantic look overcame his eyes.

"Kook," snapped Val. "Enough. We don't speak of others in that way in my Circus. Do you know where they went?"

"Big Top," said Kook, suddenly sullen. "they're saying the act's off- all the couples have broken off too; Vinnie and Trisha, Ellie and Claire, even the two Johnny's. Saying they'll never perform together again."

Val stood up and adjusted her hat. "I'll be the one to make that assessment." She left Kook to his mumbling. The short walk between the mess hall and the Big Top was enough to send tonight's trajectory from bad to worse; long tears split the tent on both sides and above. Scraps of fur, some sleek, some shaggy, gathered in clumps among the grass underfoot, and as Val broke through the curtained doorway into the Big Top, a cacophony of yowls and howls pierced her eardrums. The wide circle of bleachers bordering the room served as the colosseum for the latest pandemonium, as two gangs of leather clad teenage heartthrobs, one half rough and ragged, the other sharp and deadly, stared each other down in the loudest way possible, jeering and spitting and hissing and growling and  holding each other back. The groups were about fifteen people strong apiece, and at the forefront of each, foreheads practically glued together, were two boys. Well, men. But everyone was a child when you had a couple of centuries under your belt. 

"You housecats aren't going anywhere till you tell me who went after Tycho," snarled  the shorter of the two, the leader of the scruffy lot who more than fit the model himself. Dark haired and what the young people would call 'dreamy,' his face was contorted with rage as he shouted, "you pussies want to pick a fight? I'm right here! Why fight a kid when you can face the whole pack? All you gotta do it tell me who did it!"

The other leader, a broad lion of a man maned with immaculately combed hair, rumbled back, "I don't respond to violence, or threats. You should know that by now, Lyca. Yourself and these mongrels should get out of here while you've still got some dignity left." 

"Then it's off," snapped Lyca. He pulled back and shook his head. "You can kiss the whole act goodbye. Nobody wants to see a bunch'a stuck up lions do ballet for an hour. You've got no skill, no perseverance, all you've got is your goddamn pride," he spat the word like it tasted foul, eyeing the rest of the Cat Creatures. He gestured at his grumbling posse " Come on, everyone. Lee the Lionheart can't even squeeze and apology out of his little harem. We've got better things to do than watch that travesty try to carry out a routine." Though he was less than half Lee's size, his effortless beauty and powerful voice made him quite the formidable leader. It was like watching a Jack Russell face off with a Great Dane. 

"Typical werewolf," said a woman at Lee's side. "time wasters. No patience. Full of bravado. It's not like we even needed you anyway, Lee's the one with all the ideas, you people are just hired muscle. In fact," she chuckled. "I'm pretty sure breaking it off is the only original idea you've had yet," some of the other Cat Creatures heckled their agreement. Lee nodded. 

"Fuck you," said Lyca. The rest of the pack echoed the sentiment. 

"Ahem," Val's voice  was like a shock wave. The tension snapped at once as they all turned on their heels to attention. Pack mentality. One of the rare pluses of employing shapeshifters. "Am I to understand that there's been a falling out?" Sometimes, Valeria wished she could just get to the point. But, that was unbecoming. 'Take your time when you speak,' her mother had once told her, 'too fast, and people will think you're trying to sell them something.'

"The Cat Creatures went too far this time, Ma'am," said Lyca, desperate to get the first word in. "they went after Tycho, they smashed his face in and robbed him. A kid, ma'am. They called him- what was it, Tycho?"he called over his shoulder. 

A thin boy of about eighteen stepped forward. His crimson nose wore his double-black eyes as a pair of wings, a butterfly of bruises resting on his face. He stared at his feet as he spoke, not really addressing anyone. "A leg-humpin' bitch. A mongrel. They said they were gonna neuter me, said they'd bury my..." He was turning crimson. Val averted her eyes, feeling her stomach growl. "my nuts in the woods, feed 'em to Oleg."

That damn clown again. "I see. And what was this about stolen property?"

"We didn't steal-" began one of the Cat Creatures- one of the two Johnny's so recently divorced. She quieted him with a look. Her nerves were getting twitchier by the minute, her cigarette burning closer to her skin.

"A jacket, three CD's, and a bat," said Lyca. "Personal items that they have no reason to take except to screw with him. And look at Tycho's nose. If he were human they could've killed him!"

"Please, Lyca," said Val, raising a palm. "be patient. Tell me Lee, you refute these claims?"

The Lionheart spoke slow and patient, but didn't take his eyes off Lyca. "You can't prove it was my people. There were no witnesses. I've asked everyone. I have no other evidence than the boy's word- and we all know that he and Sheila ended things recently. He has every motivation for wanting to start a war,``he cracked his knuckles. Val knew him well enough to understand his temper, but still. Next to everyone else he was a behemoth, a wall of a man who'd knock your bones out before you knew you'd been hit. "I won't be condemning anyone based on his testimony."

"I'm not lying!" yelled Tycho, his voice breaking. "look at my face, who the hell would do this except you?"

"Please!" yelled Val, bringing them back in line. "These accusations are disturbing. And I want everyone here to understand that as of tomorrow, I'll be aiding these two in finding out precisely what has happened, and putting an end to this childishness" she panned her gaze across the two crowds, watching for anxious faces. More than a few on each side couldn't hold it. Lyca and Lee were both getting a little red as well. "You two. I'll be speaking to you separately. I hope you all understand the severity of attacking another member of this troupe, or indeed lying in order to instigate it. However, we have a show to run, and precious little time to be at each other's throats. So in the meantime, tell me, couldn't the Cats simply reimburse the Wolves for-" she felt a tugging at her dress. It was about time. She looked down. 

"Ma'am," squeaked Iggy. The clowns in his congregation nodded politely.

"Oh."

"Oh?"

"I thought you'd be Eucaria. What is it that you need, sir?"

He frowned. "To be released from our contract. As we attempted to discuss this morning-" a loud clap broke the silence behind Val. Followed by a brief pause, bated breath, then a crescendo of thumping and yelling and hissing as the wolves and the cats started on each other. "Is now a good time?" asked Iggy, eyes widening at the discord behind her. 

It was not. And where on earth was Eucaria? Val scanned the circular room; people were coming in and out, sitting in little pockets watching the drama unfold, or conferring, or practising, or watching from the bleachers. Her daughter and second in command rarely failed to gravitate towards trouble, and Val had the feeling her input would be needed. "Excuse me," she said, once again stepping over the clowns. She counted back the hours since she'd last seen her daughter, then lost count as she bumped into Jaya, the Siren slash high-dive expert. A slip of a woman, only five feet tall, and always a little flushed. 

"Hiya Val," she smiled, before attempting to move on. 

Val very nearly let her go, before closing a vice-grip around her wrist as she remembered what Kook had said. "you haven't seen Euci, have you?" Val paused, remembered herself, released Jaya's arm, and cleared her throat. "S-sorry. She's rather late to the action this morning. Kook said he saw you with her?" 

"Hm. I saw her at dinner a few hours ago, I think," smiled Jaya. She was sometimes a little slow to recognise people's expressions. And too often she was too off in her own head to realise when a crisis was going on. "But then the Cat Creatures started getting pissy with each other and we left. They made us both pretty uncomfortable.  I Haven't seen her since," her eyes widened as the proverbial penny dropped. "Is everything ok?"

"Oh it's fine, I'm sure she's around somewhere," lied Val. "But I don't suppose I could ask Jacques?" the siren's boyfriend. He was more observant than her, though less than half as social. 

"Sure thing," Jaya opened her mouth, her lips stretching wider, her jaw clicking as it parted and opened into a hole as big as a dinner plate. Inside, her oesophagus was just as wide, smelling faintly of salt water, and far, far down inside, Val could see Jacques, curled up with a book in the pit of her empty stomach. He removed his glasses, looked up, and waved. 

"Evening ma'am," he said. His voice met Val's ears in what could only be described as a wet echo. "what's up?"

"Good evening Jacques," Val called back down. "Have you seen or heard of Eucaria recently? She's absent."

"'Fraid not," he called back. "I haven't heard her, anyway. Is everything ok?"

"Yes, thank you. See you at tonight's performance," Val closed Jaya's mouth quickly, just in case he had more bad news for her. "T-thank you, Jaya," she said, before pulling away and rushing into one of the nearby hallways, this one arterial to the rooms. Inside, streams of fairy lights sputtered and blinked in crossroads between the rooms, winking off and on again as Val passed under them. She was getting dizzy. She braced herself against the wall for a moment, waiting for it to pass. 

"You ok?" 

Val jumped. She looked around. Then down. Muriel's broad hat lifted for her eyes to blink back, the dark circles under them giving the constant impression that she was tired of everyone's shenanigans.

"Not quite," said Val. Her hand reached down to pat Muriel on the head and landed on her own knee, a mite colder than before. Muriel didn't point out the obvious- people had been trying to pat that little noggin for decades. Ghosts were, as it turns out, surprisingly hesitant to remind you they were dead. "Have you seen Euci?" No sense in putting on a show. Muriel had more years behind that tiny face than even you'd expect, though she possessed size, features, and appropriate cuteness to a seven year old. 

"She's probably with Ole-Spiderlegs," said Muriel. "She was having a meltdown this evening and wouldn't let anyone see her. If you're going in there,  I suggest telling her she's pretty. And a treasure to the troupe. And young, don't forget young," she counted off the necessary interactions on her fingers and rolled her eyes. Eternal rest was clearly nothing of the sort. 

"Thank you," said Val, feeling the strength return to her bones. "Are you ready for tonight?"

"Almost. I need to attune my wand and burn some sage to purify the ring, plus I need to summon a spirit. Not a strong one, just an assistant. . But you're not really listening. Dispense with the niceties and go find your daughter before you pass out, you sentimental bat."

"What did you just say?" Val blinked and Muriel was gone. "Darnit."

Eucaria didn't look up as Val entered the dressing room, ducking under a low-hanging stream of fairy lights that buzzed as she passed. The perpetual haze of smoke that encompassed her daughter's face simply muttered, "Tell her she's pretty." Nevertheless, Val still groped through the smog until her hands alighted on Euci's too-soft face. Just to make sure.

"Tiffany, my love, you're a vision," said Val, turning to look over her shoulder to speak to the older woman who was peering over the top of an ornamental screen. Behind it the gymnast's silhouette narrowed to a waspy waist, then expanded into a bulbous shadow from which eight legs protruded, each one busying itself with some unseen task below decks. "I should know. I've been performing for over a century and I haven't seen a treasure such as you. And no-one who didn't doubt themselves at one time or another, I might add." Val pulled a well-earned cigarette from thin air and pressed the tip against the end of Euci's cigar, then inhaled deeply. 

The woman peering over the screen was indeed beautiful. In her day, she was even breathtaking. But after a few decades of better healthcare and more diverse breeding, today's beauties were beginning to surpass even hers, fluoride toothpaste and moisturiser landing them a few rungs higher on that ladder. And Ole' Spiderlegs, IE Tiffany, wasn't the sharpest when it came to books, but she knew beauty and lack thereof like the back of her hand. 

"Don't say things just because," she quothed. In addition to her legs, she had a pair of normal human arms on her torso, one of which she used to tuck a scarlet lock of hair behind her ear while using the other to massage her forehead.  "I'm not feeling it today. Not at all," behind the screen, a spidery leg passed a garment into one of her hands, and she lobbed it over the top and onto the pandemonium that covered the floor. Clothes, empty bottles of hairspray, distressed makeup brushes, and more than a few dead flies. It wasn't any wonder nobody else used this room. "why am I still doing this? Flaunting myself in front of lookie-loos while my youth drains out of me like a submarine losing oxygen?"

"Thinking of unfreezing that egg sack again?" asked Val. "You were quite set on it last week."

"And two months before that," added Euci, her cloud of smoke sparking as she took another drag on her cigar. "maybe you should do it now?"

Tiffany sighed. "A little magnum opus, yes. Scuttering all over the lace, little balls of life, then, suddenly, away on the wind on a little stream of silk, scattered all over the earth. But still, you know they're out there. Part of you. Like one big web encompassing the world."

"It sounds positively nightmarish, dear," said Val. "and by all means, tomorrow we can discuss the affair in detail. But we have a show to do. And without our gymnast, it wouldn't be much of one. We've," she cleared her throat. "We've already lost the shapeshifter act."

"Shit," cussed Eucaria. "I knew something was wrong this morning. The Cat Creatures were all on edge. They were all bunched together in the mess hall, being all rotten with everyone. I should've seen this coming. Have you heard, mother?"

"Heard what, my love?"

"Lee and Lyca broke up. It happened last night, not sure exactly when, but it wasn't pretty. Lyca was getting jealous again, I think."

"I thought that might be the case," sighed Val. "that recent wolf, Tycho, has already had his face caved in for his leader's sake. Doubtless the Cat Creatures went for him to get under Lyca's skin. You see, Tiffany?" She pointed her attention back at the gymnast, who'd stopped to listen to the gossip, and now busied herself behind the screen. "We're in chaos. Without you, there is no show left to perform."

"I'm too old," insisted Spiderlegs, popping her head up. Her silhouette shrugged. "what's the use? It's not like anyone here's ever going to make the big time. We're just eye candy- no, eye horseradish, there to test what normal people can stomach to look at. Why not settle down for a few months, maybe even a few years, and raise some little spiders?"

"You know," said Euci, removing her cigar for a moment so she could look at Tiffany properly. "You could do both. Like mother did," Eucaria was all her father's child. From rotting toe to decaying tip, from ruddy nose and round face, to the raggedy dress-shirt she always wore,  she was Earnest. Her undead-ness was one of the few things she'd inherited from her mother. In a way. Albeit, hers was of a different, more zombie-like nature. "Aren't working mothers a thing now? It's not like you perform every day."

Tiffany bit her lip. Val smiled. "Why yes, Euci and I manage that lifestyle very well. Even before Euci's transformation, I nursed a human child in one arm and ran a successful circus with another. Surely you, with eight whole legs, could do the same?"

"Of course I could," said Tiffany. "But, I'm wary..."

"Of?" 

"Nothing. It can wait. I'll discuss it with you after tonight's performance." She ducked down again and sat haughtily on her abdomen. Val felt a crease of anxiety smooth itself out in her head. One of these days, they'd call Tiffany's bluff, and she'd actually go for it. But this profession taught you to take things one day at a time. Val cupped her daughter's face in her hands. It wasn't, by appearance, that much older than Muriel's. But while the latter had many centuries behind it, this one had barely reached its first. The sallow skin, pierced by a pair of sharp blue eyes that could cut glass with their wit, so like her father's. If anything could make Val's dead heart move, it was her. 

"How is everything? Did you meet with the Cuban?" She asked. 

Euci nodded, cigar waggling between her teeth. "Yup. Threw in a box of cigars, too. Hell of a guy. Can only hope his dynamite doesn't taste this good." The girl's childish voice was tinted with the chain-smoker's growl, and in their travels had picked up odds and ends of idioms and turns of phrase that Val could only sometimes understand. 

Val blew a smoke ring toward her daughter, which Euci broke apart with her own exhalation. "Good, good. Come, I need your help; the shapeshifters need sorting out, and Oleg's at it again- oh my," one of Eucaria's ears was sliding down the side of her head. Like a decaying snail exploring her face. It was already nearing her jawline. "your ear, darling."

"It's OK," Eucaria plucked it off, some hair-thin strings of what was still an unidentified goo pulling away with it. Beneath, the flesh was stark white and budded like cauliflower. "Darn thing keeps coming off. Hasn't been the same since Paris. I'm pretty sure there are still bits of me stuck to the Eiffel Tower."

"I don't know how many shows that's got left," mused Val. "Perhaps it's time to retire it?"

Euci sighed and kicked a brassier across the floor, where it dinged mutely against an ornamental vase, ornament ally filled with dead flowers as it had been for days. "Not like we have any spares lying around."

"Hold that thought."

Val wasn't proud of it. Oleg wasn't a colleague as much as he was a liability. She often wondered why she kept him in the act, but for some reason, that particular fire was one of the few that she never got around to putting out. Though it did, from time to time, consume an unaccompanied child. 

"Sure are a lot of bones around here," said Euci, picking a bit of cartilage from between her toes. They surrounded the area like a ring of chalk; the furthest out were bleached white by the sun, while the closest were still bloody and clinging to viscera. They were a good mile away from the circus, on the border of the woods that framed the massive field they'd managed to claim. This was Oleg's agreed distance, maintained all day every day, except for showtime. He'd taken up residence in the hollow of an oak tree, a hole in its base marking the entrance to what in theory should have only been a closet-sized space. That said, Val had never been tempted to see inside. Even with the sun directly above it, those with the courage to come and stare had assured her that no light could penetrate the darkness. 

"Indeed," she said, fiddling with a stray lock of hair that had escaped from her hat. "remember what I said, Euci. Don't look at him for too long."

"Mum," assured Eucaria, "we'll be fine. He wouldn't dare. Not like I'm fresh meat anyway. Plus, it'd be way more trouble than it's worth, plus he's probably still bloated from-" her head snapped to attention, pigtails whipping across her face, face frozen, alert, and trained on the yellow eyes that were cutting through the black pit of the hollow. Nothing else. Just two gold coins with a black slit down the middle. Watching. 

"Oh don't frrrrrett, dear," seethed a voice that pulled the hairs on Val's neck to stand to attention, that made her skin squirm beneath her clothes as if in retreat. The dusk felt duller, dimmer, and smelled of sour meat. "p-plenty of live meat d-d-down here. Wanna seee?" 

"We need an ear," said Val, stepping into the clown's line of sight. "Now. A fresh one."

"D-d-don't mama got better things ta' be doin? I h-hear the menagerie's havin' a domestic. L-little Lyca's L-l-little brother got roughed up by his abominable boyfriend, ay?"

"Mind your own business," piped up Eucaria, stepping around her mother and jutting out her chin. Her sallowness was that much paler, but her voice was even. "And quit eating unattended kids. This isn't the city. People don't just go missing without being noticed, and if they come for us, I'll make sure they come for you."

"We'll allow it this once, given it's convenient," agreed Val, "but once more and you're on your own. Remember America? One more missing child and you'll be back in that recycling plant where we found you. And stop scaring the other performers- it's hard enough to keep a show running without a cannibal on the premises."

"T-t-those clowns whining again?" the air around the hollow swam and the roots of the tree snapped and squealed, writhing beneath the ground in complaint. Oleg's voice rose. "pathetic little sorcerer. With his flesh puppets,  not a friend in the world, so why not be your own? You know, that's why the others-"

"Ear," said Val, raising her voice over his, feeling the breeze billow around her in support. "Now." her hair whipped over her shoulder. The sparks from her cigarette drifted in the air between her face and Oleg's, neither of them breaking their stare. 

"Aright mama V," groaned Oleg. "If only so's I can eat the little dead thing's old one. Howzabout it, cannonball corpse? Or did ya blow it off chewin' on a stick a dynamite?" he looked at Euci. 

Val's spine drew up and her teeth set on edge. Euci flicked her old ear into the hollow. "You'll perform tonight," she said, lowering her tone. "You'll act nice, too. Or I'll let mother down there with you."

"Indeed," Val held the clown's gaze, grinding her teeth. "we'll see what position you're in to make jokes then."

Without another word, the clown's eyes faded into the darkness. A few moments passed, then with a wet thump a disk flopped out of the hollow and landed in front of Eucaria, who turned it over in her hand. "Mostly intact," she said. "prolly from someone a lil older than me. But it'll do fine if we can stitch it good enough, though I guess it's a little pink. Might make it hard to-"

Everything went quiet. Eucaria kept speaking- or, rather, her mouth kept moving. But everything, from the wind in the trees to the churn of traffic from the not distant enough highway, was muted. Then, slowly, from the depths of Val's eardrum, came a ringing. And the sun rose behind them, its light screaming across the grass and overwhelming Val like a shadow disappearing with the lighting of a candle. 

"How?" she gasped voicelessly, dropping to her knees, stunned. Watching it, she saw a yellow ball of fire consume the sky above the Big Top, swirling like a whirlpool, streaks of light fanning out like tantruming arms. The great and horrifying sight that all vampires dreaded, the source of all life that turned against them when they turned undead, stared her down with its divine judgement. 

Something was off. She wasn't dead, for one thing. She hadn't been reduced to lilac ash and scattered in the breeze. She didn't even feel warm, actually. And though it'd been longer than most lifetimes since she'd seen it, she didn't recall the sun smelling quite so much like burning sage. 

The ringing in her ears had reached a kettle-like screech, only now subsiding as Euci helped her to her feet and held her limbs steady as the shock wore off. The ball of light dispersed into evening gloom, and from the Big Top a shock-wave blew out in all directions and hit them with a gale-force wind filled with screaming laughter. Then all was quiet. The highway's gentle purr rose and fell steadily and undisturbed. Looking back at the Big Top, a scorched hole in the roof glared at the sky as if to accuse it. And even from here, you could hear the shrieking of the people inside. 

Val sighed. "Bugger."

Arriving back at the Big Top was like stepping into the eye of a hurricane. For the whole walk back, screams and moans and complaints had echoed over the field, and now, in the middle of their source, Val felt strangely calm. Everything was so spectacularly broken, that there was no sense of urgency. The worst had happened; the middle of the ring was blackened and twinkling like the night with all the glass that'd been shattered when Muriel summoned her spirit, with which she was currently arguing amongst the ruins of her alchemy set. Almost the entire troupe had filed in and around the edges of the ring, keeping a wide perimeter around the discord. The whole place stank of sulphur, and the air above them was dense with flickering lights of every colour that squeaked and nipped in your ears as you walked through them. Fairies. They loved drama. Jaya and Jacques were putting out the still smouldering tent walls, and more than a few of the other performers, while Lyca and Lee were balancing two separate head counts at the same time, trying to make sure nobody had gone missing and be cross with each other at the same time. Tiffany was doing her best to apply first aid to Iggy's swarm of clowns, but she only had so many legs to spare. The resident strongwoman, Bhumika, was lifting shattered furniture out of the way while Ba'al, the lizard-skinned fire eater quicky sucked up whatever stray embers remained. 

"I'll get the ghost," said Euci. "you check the damages," she set off before Val could protest, elbowing her way through the forest of knees to the ring. Valeria looked about her for a wound to heal or fire to douse, but her attention pulled like a magnet back to her daughter as she walked over to Muriel, and the immense spirit above her. She felt that guttural pull, the maternal urge you get when a child falls over or cries out in pain, plucking at her nerves like a harp. But Euci was made of sterner stuff than other children. Which was good, because she certainly wasn't made of harder stuff. 

The spirit above Muriel flourished like a peacock's tail, furl upon furl of ethereal light in all the colours of the spectrum blossoming in a circular fan shape, and floating in the centre was a human body doused in emulsion, such an emaciated figure that its blue-white skin seemed too big for it. It blinked at its audience with eyes as black as a pond at midnight, and smiled toothily. It swam in the air like a jellyfish, undulating its fan as it drifted down to meet Eucaria, and outstretched its hands, clawed with black nails filed to a fine point. Euci declined the embrace with a quick step back, and addressed Muriel. 

"I told you this would happen. The spirits back in your tent are perfectly good, ya know."

"I know," the witch sounded exhausted. She reached out to lean against Euci, then stumbled as she fell through. "Dammit."

Eucaria sighed. "For someone who's already seen death you certainly like to dance with it a lot," she addressed the spirit. "name?"

The spirit tilted its bulbous head and twisted in ways that, while Valeria wasn't sure in her undead state, she was pretty certain most bone structures didn't allow. Its head turned back like an owl's, its elbows inverted. It hissed, baring its needly teeth. "SSSatisssfaction," it beckoned Euci with its nail. "Disssord."

Eucaria held up her hands. "No thanks. Enough of that on a regular day. Name?"

The spirit blinked. Then said in a death rattle, "Vivāda, the-"

"Vivāda, huh?" Euci interrupted. "Need a job?"

The spirit didn't answer. It tilted its head and pulled back, eyes fixed on her. Val felt a little tug. She couldn't stand the thing. If ever she'd felt compelled to crush something between her fingers until its life was eviscerated, this was it. 

"It's just, since you're here," said Eucaria, to the crushing silence that'd fallen over the room. "We didn't mean to get you, see? We wanted...?" She gestured at Muriel. 

The witch removed her hat and scratched the back of her head. "Samedi."

"Right, we wanted Samedi. Not you. But you're here and I don't think my friend," she gestured at Muriel. "has much left in her today. Would be a real shame to let you go to waste, though, so-" Euci didn't finish. The colours in the spirit's fan bled into red, and the edges quivered. The pale thing stretched a long fingernail out to Eucaria's face, close enough to shave the decaying skin from her forehead, while the other hand wafted through Muriel as if trying to clutch at something. Muriel looked mortified; the girl who'd seen death in all its forms, the girl with nothing left to fear, was doubting the validity of those statements for the very first time. Val's stomach was tying itself into a Devil's knot. 

Vivāda's voice cut through the crowd the way a slamming door cuts through a child eavesdropping on their parents' argument. The way gunfire splits the calm of a silent night. The way bad news breaks through the routine of your day, extending it by hours and withering your plans as they fall by the wayside. "You didn't call for dissssscord? For Vivāda, the Defiler?"

Val ran at the ring. She'd been so stupid. Eucaria didn't know a vengeful spirit from her best friend. She'd never seen an angry monster before, only the ones she'd known forever, and those claws weren't real to her, not yet. They wouldn't be, not until they cut her to ribbons. 

Like a child plucking a doll out of its house the spirit swept Euci into the air with its placid hand clasped around her throat, surging upwards and squealing like a kettle while its fan swirled and bubbled and smoked. Val couldn't see her daughter's expression, just her feet dangling limply as the thing pulled her face close to its own, and she felt her insides twist in fear. 

Val collided with a burning wall. For a moment, it was like she'd walked into a beam of sunlight, but when it threw her onto her back in the dirt with the force of a stubborn bull, she guessed otherwise. Lee pulled her to her feet like she weighed nothing and pointed to the powdery line on the floor, then followed its path around the ring. Salt. A ring of protection to keep unholy things coming in or out. A rule that applied to about forty percent of the circus. Including herself. 

She looked on helplessly as Vivāda spiked her daughter, threw her to the floor like a damsel smashing a vase. Euci's bones applauded as she made contact, a cacophony of cracks and grinds as she skidded along the dirt, leaving one arm in her wake as she finally ground to a halt. Muriel looked at her, aghast. Then up at the spirit. She began to wave her wand so fast it blurred into a grey shimmer in front of her. Sparks and spears and balls of light flew up and encircled the ghost as it languished like a poisoned snake above them, spitting curses upon them in a language that sounded like chewing nails, singing its skin against the invisible barrier around the ring. It twisted one way and a gale blew in through the hole in the roof, driving the spells back to the ground where they crashed and flashed and crescendo-ed around Euci. It twisted the other and a blade of wind flashed in front of Muriel, knocking her wand out of the ring. 

Val couldn't hear her own voice. She only knew she'd said anything when Bhumika , bounded past her and punted the ground at the edge of the ring, salt flying up among clumps of dirt. Then she clasped her hands around her mouth, open and still crying for someone to do something, anything, and ran to Euci's side. 

The thing about your first and only child being undead, is that you have absolutely no idea whether they're properly dead; you can't sense a pulse, or time their breathing, or check for blood loss. You just wait. Next to the mortified ghost of her best friend, who despite her many, many years of seniority on both you and your child, has never been terrific in a crisis. 

"I...I, I thought she'd...be able to..." Muriel waved her hand in front of her face with closed eyes, trying to get her morse code of a sentence out. "you know, uh..." she shook her head. "I don't know. I don't know." She stood up and staggered away to stand beside Lee as he watched, who reached down to pat her head then thought better of it. He kneeled down to speak to her, offering low words of comfort. 

Tiffany's many hands were hard at work over Eucaria; two held her upright, two were picking through the dust to find scraps of her right arm, which for the sake of hysteria was currently protected from view by the next two that were holding up a sheet between it and Val. The last two were tidying Euci's face. Pulling hair out of the way, checking her position, tidying her up. Tiffany had seen a lot in her time, they'd been told. Enough to know how to...adjust a person for whom the worst might be on its way. She was a firm believer that if death were to come for you, the last thing you'd want is to look like a mess. 

Val slapped the leg currently fixing Euci's hair. "Stop it." Tiff didn't ask. She took her hands away and busied them in her useless first aid box. What could that do? Val scowled at it. "What can that thing do for her?" she felt like a cherry about to be crushed between a set of teeth. Set to burst. 

"Be patient," said Ba'al, who'd come over to help in what little way he could. He was only about two feet tall, with spiralling red horns protruding from a crimson forehead. The rest of him, though red, was perfectly normal looking. He knelt beside Euci, pursed his lips, and gently blew a warm breeze over her face. He continued, "remember Mexico? The crazy stuff they let us do there? You gave her those cigars, the real thick ones that smelled of chocolate? We didn't think she'd ever wake up."

"The cigars didn't hurl her around like a doll,"

"No," mumbled Euci. "But you do, like, every week."  While she didn't exactly spring up, the voice alone soothed every tense nerve in Val's body. Her daughter's eyes blinked open, and she moved her shoulders as if to push herself up, then stopped, and nodded up at Tiffany. "Cheers Tiff."

Spiderlegs stroked her cheek with her thumb. "No problem."

Val bent down and kissed her on the forehead, then rested her own against it. "One of these days you'll have to stop doing that to me."

"No deal. Did you cry?"

"Yes, my love."

"Was it ugly?"

"Yes."

"Great. Also, in other news, my right arm is...everywhere, right now? I feel like there are parts of me all over the place."

Muriel reappeared by Euci's side and fell to her knees. The brim of her hat hid most of the feelings shared, but her voice was mournful. "I'm so sorry, Euci. I should have just used one of my old spirits. I didn't even need Samedi. Now look at you, look what that thing's done-" she paused mid soliloquy. "Wait. Where...where is it?"

They all looked around. "I mean, don't ask me," said Euci. "I was taking a dirt nap."

Lee's shadow encompassed all four of them. "It escaped through that hole in the ceiling," he boomed. "as soon as the circle was broken."

"Did you see where it went?" asked Ba'al, suddenly alert.

Lee shook his head. "But I believe it's still here. Lyca's pack say they can hear its voice nearby, on the grounds. But they're struggling to pinpoint where, I'm afraid- excuse me," he parted from them as one of his posse drew him away by the arm, to where a flustered Lyca was still trying to figure out who was accounted for.

"I'll deal with it,"Val chucked Eucaria under the chin. "Are you alright darling?"

"As alright as you'd expect," reassured Euci. 

"Then, forgive me, but I must see someone about an unwelcome guest. Do me a favour, Tiffany, and give her a...assist her in getting everyone patched up, will you?" 

"Of course."

They all got to their feet. Needless to say, a small crowd had gathered. "Right!" yelled Euci at the top of her lungs. "I need all the injured over here, plus you, Ba'al. Everyone else, help clean up the glass. And you two!" she pointed at Lyca and Lee, who within moments had managed to distract one another with furious whispers. "Mother needs a word."

Val took a breath as they approached, already red faced and staring at their feet. She let it out in seeps at first, alleviating the pressure of her temper word by word. "I'll make this brief," she said, recalling Euci's plan of attack she'd outlined not ten minutes ago on their walk back from Oleg's. "You promised me an act. I expect you to deliver one."

"But ma'am, he-" began Lee. 

"I don't care," she said. The Lionheart blinked. "Pardon my curtness, but I refuse to entertain this in-fighting any longer. Boys," she softened her tone. Counted to ten. "Love has its ins and outs. Fall apart if you must, but do you really want to take us with you? Your friends? The whole circus?" she gestured around. Ba'al chose that moment to leap back in surprise as a small fire erupted from a pile of charred furniture, quickly doused with a slough of water from Jaya that flooded the ground under the bleachers. "We're already in disarray. Don't make it a disaster."

"But Val," implored Lyca. "I can't let them get away with hurting Tycho. I just can't. He's just a kid."

"My love," Val cupped her hand around his cheek, resting her other on Lee's forearm, "tomorrow morning I'll do everything I can to find out what happened. But if we don't salvage something," she cleared her throat. "he'll be homeless. And you," she wagged a finger in front of Lee, warranting a smile that was quickly suppressed. "your pride won't mean much out on the streets, will it? Please boys. For me. Just pretend to love each other for the night, and tomorrow you can hate each other to your heart's content." She pulled away before they could protest, heading to through the entrance into the courtyard.  

The evening was well upon them now. Night air breathed life into Val as she took in the carnage; the ticket stand sequestered by the entrance was demolished, flits of scarlet paper scattered all over the grass, with Boo trapped in the centre, plucking them up with her nails. Madame Zostra's weeping was providing a soft baseline to support the crickets singing in the nearby fields. The grass in the courtyard stank of smoke and incense, and the air above Val's head was positively swarming with fairies. Kook wasn't wrong. They loved a good disaster. Never spoke or helped or interacted with the world beneath them, but with every emotional crescendo or clash, they'd fill the air to feed on the tension, then disappear.

"Having fun, Val?" asked Boo, stepping out of the ticket ring to greet her. "don't suppose you've met the vengeful spirit with the funny name, have you?"

Val laughed, pressing her fingers against her forehead's crowing creases. "So, you've met our guest for the evening. Are you ok?" Within the context of the circus, Boo was quite unique. In that she had two arms, two legs, a head, and a torso with a bunch of wet things stuffed inside that were utterly and incurably human. She bruised easily, was the point. 

"No less than usual," she replied, tying her hair back. It was freshly dyed, dripping violet water onto her collar. Lesser vampires found the living's appropriation of gothic or dusky elements into human fashion offensive. Val just found it pleasantly strange, like seeing a child dressed up as your profession for halloween. "Muriel making new friends in the ethereal plane?" Boo pointed her thumb up at the hole in the Big Top. 

"More like the ninth circle of Dante," chimed in Madame Zostra. She gathered herself from the ground, heaving up her many layers of patchwork dress with great effort, and dried her eyes. Her tented booth, designed to draw in lookie-loos, was knocked onto its side, easily the least permanent issue of the night. "My setup is ruined, Val. My tarot was fully cleansed, ready for the night, now it's trampled into mud. Do you have any idea how much salt I'll need to re-purify..." the hinges on Zostra's jaw squeaked as she spoke, and one of her eyes was pointing in the wrong direction. She was quite literally falling apart and had been for some time. Val made a note to find a new vessel for the fortune teller's spirit- this mannequin was on its last legs. Really, it was; they only had so many spares. 

Val raised a palm, smiling as kindly as she could. "Zoe. Too much. Too much has happened in one day, my darling, for me to do anything about this. Oleg has eaten someone, the clowns are striking thanks to him, the shapeshifters are at war, Kook is back on his bigotry, Tiff's having her fourth confidence crisis this month, we have a spirit of discord on the loose, and my daughter's just been used to score a touchdown. Plus, this," she gestured about her. "So please understand. I wouldn't ask this of you if it weren't imperative. Use the ball."

If Zostra's nose could have wrinkled. "I told you not to open the show today. I told you it wasn't in the cards. Now look where it's landed us," she shook her head at the sky. "and that ball? It's defective. It predicts the future, but not the right one. Tell me," she turned to Boo. "Have you an aunt Phyllis?"

Boo shook her head. "Nope. My parents were only children."

"Well, if you'd had one, today she'd have fallen down some stairs and injured her hip. You'd have gone to care for her, and become close enough for her to show you her antique plate collection. She'd have become a great confidant for you."

"Uh, cool? Thanks?" Boo looked desperately at Val. "So it shows you stuff that isn't true?"

"Oh, it's true," said Zoe, "It's reality. Just not this one. So it's useless."

"Zoe," Val snapped. "We don't have time for this. We need to find that creature before it-"

"It's with Eris," said Zoe, turning on her heel in a huff. "Seeing as how you care so much about everything but me. Flitted off to her like a moth to one of those neon lights they have outside brothels. I'd think you'd be glad it didn't kill me, but there you go."

"Zoe-" began Boo.

"No! Off you go, go and find your precious monster. I'll just be here, wilting in the ruins of my livelihood, my spirit's sole purpose on this mortal plain. Go and plug the holes in the leaking bucket that, I, Zostra, told you long before was structurally unsound!" She was rather surprised when she turned around and found that they'd done exactly that. 

Jaya, Boo, Bhumika, and Val, observed the trailer from a distance. Well, it was really an abandoned camper van that'd been left in the field, unmentioned at the time it was rented. Ba'al had been the first to claim it, but the distance from the rest of the circus, while a small sigh of relief for everyone else, had weighed on the firedancer, so Eris had inherited it. 

A circus is just organised chaos. A dance of the unknown that pushes reality's boundaries with soft lighting and a warm smile to put you at ease while you marvel at the hidden peculiarities of the world. As such, the goddess of chaos had found a home with Val's troupe. She was less of an act than a resource. She choreographed the presentation itself; She timetabled the acts in such a way as to amaze but not unnerve. She fixed the lights to strike the right balance between a comfortable dim, and pressing darkness. She picked the songs, the colours, she designed the outfits, she laid out the beautiful chaos of her mind onto a board on a wall inside that caravan, and at the end of each show, she and Val would share a bottle of wine and tear it down in preparation for the next one. The circus spun like an ornate merry-go-round with her manning the controls. She breathed life into it. 

And she never left her trailer. 

"Must be pretty cramped in there with that thing," said Boo. "Think it's really in there? Looks pretty normal."

"You know Eris," said Bhumika. "doesn't like to make a fuss. For all we know she's sketching the damn thing." She furrowed her perfectly plucked brow. "Maybe we should leave her to it?"

Without answering, Val strode across the mud and rapped on the door. The trailer had been spruced up, draped with rainbow flags and fairy lights and painted a galactic purple, but they could never shift the smell of damp, or the rust that clustered around the door handle, that now dusted the marblesque skin of Val's fist. There was no answer. 

"Eris?" called Boo. "You ok?"

Still no answer. 

Val knocked again. "My love, it's nearly showtime. I hope you haven't forgotten our tradition?" She paused, chewing on the sickly sweetness of her words, then kissed her teeth and allowed herself to speak frankly. "Eris. Come out. Please. We know the things in there, and by God if I don't win against something today I might ship myself back to Paris while I still have what's left of my pride."

Still nothing. What little was left of Val's deceased heart stung a touch. 

Jaya pulled herself out of her perpetual daydream and frowned at the door. "How mean. How busy could she be not to answer that?" 

Bhumika cracked her knuckles and patted Val's shoulder, almost tilting her over. "No worries, ma'am. I can break it open."

Val focused her eyes on the door, took a break, and flicked her wrist. "Please," she said as it swung open. "We may be monsters, but we're not police."

It was always dusk inside that trailer, even in the middle of the night. Amber light glowed from sealed jars that sat growing dust on every surface. Val climbed the steps and ducked inside, Jaya, Boo, and Bhumika squeezing in behind her. 

"I'm handling it," said Eris hurriedly. She was reclining on her sofa with a glass of wine in her hand, tangled red hair unravelled all over the place, comfy. But tense enough that her glass was whining against the pressure of her grasp, threatening to shatter. She was sizing up an orb of furious red and black static that was suspended between herself and Val at head height, sweat beginning to drip from her forehead. Like she was undertaking some invisible but strenuous task. 

The interior of the trailer was full of throws and incense, with cluttered shelves and those innumerable jars, each one containing a fairy. And right now it felt like it was a reflection in a pond during a storm; it rippled furiously, each ray of light fractured and refracted and split into three after images, as if the real world was struggling to hold itself together. Val's ears, ever sensitive to these sounds no other person could hear, were full of the euphoric cries of each fairy, as they fed gratefully on the mania. 

"I always wondered," said Jaya, forever absent. "does she capture these things? Or control them?" the ball of static hissed, and one of the jars on the shelf beside Jaya's head winked out. "yikes. What the hell is that thing? Is that the spirit? Why does it look that way?"

Val nodded. "It's probably conserving energy until it gets its bearings. These things are weaker when they've just been summoned."

"It's an intruder, is what it is," said Eris. "little ball of hate that's screwed itself into an even littler ball of hate, thinking it can hide out here. The nerve," she sipped her wine. 

"Are you alright, darling?" asked Val, steeling herself against the ball's oppressive arua, which threatened to crush her into the ground and bury her among the other fossils. 

Eris nodded. Then said, "No. Actually, no. I was drinking to our success, when this unwelcome guest oozes through the window and throws a spanner in my chaos. Threatens to undermine my vision. Keeps demanding satisfaction," she gestured at the thing, a sour expression twisting her face. The ball hissed. "Yeah, yeah. Bite me."

"You can understand it?" asked Boo. 

"Chaos is its own language, dear," said Eris, standing up gingerly. The ball sputtered at her as she reached its height, and she grimaced. "Though this one only speaks in slurs."

"Muriel's summon went south," said Boo. "This is the result. it's already destroyed half the circus."

Eris shrugged. "Material things. They can be replaced. What about the children?"

"All intact," said Bhumika. "a bit singed." Eris said 'children' the way some old women referred to themselves as 'auntie.' Blood had nothing to do with it. They were her children because she'd decided so. 

"She must have come here for you," said Val, anxious of the time ticking down, and the rising sensation that she was standing on a sinking dinghy. "You're the most powerful chaotic force around here. If you can speak to it in this form, we might be able to coerce it back to where it came from,"

Eris shook her head. "It can't do much in this form other than float around and make garbled threats. It can barely even see, or hear. If we're going to try to talk to it we need to get it outside where it can unfold. And anyway, I'm curious as to what this rude thing really looks like."

"You ever see a pensioner who's been in the bath too long?" asked Boo. "Like, with a big-ass pinwheel behind it?"

"Focus," said Val. "Let me think. We can't keep it here, not for long anyway. It'll move on eventually and when it does it'll bring what's left of the circus down with it. I need it gone within the hour, or at least contained. That shouldn't be too difficult. But how to keep it in one place long enough without it..." She stamped a heel and kissed her teeth. "Well. Not an option I wanted to explore just yet, but we could-" the ball of static took this moment to slam against the ceiling. The sound alone made everyone's skin leap off, but the force of the collision pulled the trailer into the air a few inches, and everything else in the room flew into the air and smashed back down in a cacophony of fracturing glass and screaming fairies. The lights flickered on and off, Boo and Jaya fell on top of each other, and Eris' wine escaped over the couch. 

The ball whined. Like a squealing mosquito. 

"It's laughing at us,"

"I gathered," Val straightened her hat and pulled her cigarette holder out of thin air, lighting the end with a snap of her fingers. She took a long drag and exhaled over Vivāda's pissy spirit. "I have an idea."

"You don't sound terribly enthused," said Bhumika, lifting Jaya and Boo to their feet, one in each arm. 

"I'm not."

Outside the trailer was pitch black. Alone with Vivāda and Eris, Val felt the weight of the night beginning to flatten her. It'd been doing its best all evening, but it was finally securing its victory over her mood. She couldn't tell what time it was outside. Too late, probably. All she was doing now was damage control. 

"Ready?" asked Eris. She was towering at her full six feet beside Val, hair tied back loosely, her long dressing gown still spattered in wine. 

Val shrugged, then rested her head against Eris' shoulder for a moment. "No."

Eris patted her head. "All over soon. Then we can just go to bed and forget the whole evening."

"Forget. Chance would be a fine thing," she pulled away and stood up straight. "Let's get this done with."

Eris addressed Vivāda, who was hovering at the floor among the wreckage it'd caused earlier. "We wish to parlay with you. Would you like to step outside with us for a moment?" she opened the trailer door. "Come." When the ball didn't move, Eris beckoned Val. "Come on. It'll follow."

"Did it say that?"

"No," she said before leaving. Val let her take the lead and followed. The night outside was still and starless. The circus was dim, the road was empty. Like a school after hours, with all the lights shut off and the windows turned black, it felt antithetical to its purpose, inverted, perverse. Val felt her hat pulled from her head and turned on a dime to see Eris placing it gently over her own scarlet hair, patting it down with affectation. She tugged playfully at Val's black curls that now tumbled over her shoulders like the unmanageable ropes they were, all the way to her hips. "chin up young lady," Eris teased, adjusting the hat by its rim. "night's still young."

"Bite me," muttered Val. "how can you be laissez fai-" she broke off. Vivāda's ball had floated out of the trailer and was beginning to run laps around them, whining as it did so. It sped up, whirring closer to Eris then shooting back, then doing the same to Val, circling her head and hurling itself into the air as if to show off, before soaring into the air and slamming against the ground a little way in front of them, where it burst with a flash of light and there was Vivāda, floating before them with its fan in full bloom. 

"Dossssst thou wissssh to parlay?"

"That's what I said," Eris folded her arms and jutted out her chin. "though you hardly deserve such a courtesy after your display earlier. You were not wanted here. We only offer you parlay instead of demise out of respect. Do you understand?"

Vivāda ground the needles of its mouth together. They overlapped and crossed each other, but its voice remained a steady stage whisper. "Feh...you dare ssssspeak sssso freely, demon..." it spat at the ground, where a white glob of viscous began to smoke and bubble. "I do not take dissssresssspect lightly...." the smoke began to grow taller, thinner, harden into a long handle. The bubbles congregated at its head, burst and their residue solidified into a clear blade, a scythe of glass that glowed with inner light. 

Val frowned. "Excuse me!" Vivāda turned with her hand inches away from her weapon. It looked at Val like it hadn't even noticed she was there. Eris had already dug her heels in. Always ready for a fight. She seemed to have forgotten what they were doing this for. "Forgive me, Vivāda. We meant to parlay, not fight. Please, let us talk civilly."

Vivāda didn't answer, but didn't move any closer to her scythe. 

"We have inconvenienced you, have we not? Our witch intended to summon another, but in summoning you, one so powerful, such an asset, she didn't show much gratitude, did she? And," she bit the inside of her cheek. "my daughter's offer was perhaps too improper, yes?"

"Hm," Vivāda hummed throatily for a moment. "yesssss, the dead one, the decaying other...their insssolence could not be tolerateed...sssssuch talk frooom such lowly life..."

Val nodded, grinding her teeth down on her tongue. Swallowing, she said, "I can understand the frustration you must have felt, o great mother of discord," Eris shot her a look. "at being so crudely summoned, and so unfairly treated. Tell me, what service might we provide to our esteemed guests, so that we might part on amicable terms?"

"Kiss ass," uttered Eris. 

"Hothead," Val sniped back. 

Vivāda didn't respond for a moment. It listed in the air, hissing and humming like an engine with asthma as it drifted around. Eris cleared her throat, and Val delivered a quick slap to her arm, her fingers parting the chiffon to chastise the bare skin underneath. "No. We will wait to hear its response. It's just thinking, is all."

Eris was stunned. She rubbed the spot where her robe had torn, then stared at it. "Jesus Val."

Val turned back to Vivāda and nearly dropped to the floor. The spirit was right in front of her, just inches from her face, mouth agape and heaving damp breaths into it. "A decisssion hassss been made...." it drifted back and pointed a spidery finger at Val. "I want you."

"Excuse me?" 

"I will feed on thissss lowly life form, sssso married to order....her ancient life will rejuvenate Vivāda, and leave a  reminder off my power."

Val frowned. "You intend to...devour me?"

"In exchange for peace, and the sssafety of your kindred, yesss,"

"No," said Eris. "you're not eating Val. See what I mean? Why do you think someone like you deserves to take these kinds of-"

Vivāda fan turned black, its  teeth bared, and it grabbed its scythe. "I WILL TEAR THISSSS WORLD TO SSSSSSHREDSSSSS IF I AM NOT SSSSATISSSFIED!"

Val clicked her fingers. Blue smoke broke out from the tips, and  in a moment it solidified into a silver serpent, coiled in her hand with a black grip in the other, attached at the end. She dropped the coil. Like a chain it clanked to the ground, the snake hissing and seething at Vivāda. "When all is said and done, remember that we offered you the chance to leave peacefully."

Vivāda screeched and flew at her, scythe glowing blue as some power built up inside it. Val whipped her snake at the oncoming face, but missed, taking a chunk out of Vivāda's ethereal fan instead. The scythe tore down and missed her throat by a hair, instead cutting her shoulder and leaving a smoking gash in its wake, the lips of the wound already curling up as if with sepsis. Val rolled back, whipping again, this time finding purchase on Vivāda 's calve muscle, where the snake sank its teeth into the pallid skin and undulated. The spirit's leg began to blacken from the wound outwards, and Vivāda roared as it swung the scythe down at Val, this time a fierce yellow flame streaking off of it. She dodged left, but it turned at the last minute and slashed her cheek. 

"OOOOAAAGGH!" Val clutched her face with her free hand, trying not to lose focus. It burned. It bubbled, it stang, it bled down Val's neck and into her collarbone with something sticky. She released Vivāda, leaping back to gather herself while her adversary did the same, holding its leg and howling in pain. They must have looked ridiculous, two old creatures banging their heads together in the middle of nowhere. 

The dirt around Val's feet felt warm, and the stinging on her cheek subsided. Eris crouched beside her, pulling her face close to her own and scanning it like a book. "that's a sunlight burn," she placed two glowing fingertips against Val's forehead, sending her whole face into tingles. "I can't do much but stop it spreading."

"Thank you," said Val, standing up and bringing Eris with her. Vivāda was already recovering, growling as the scythe turned red. "I fear I'm out of practice these days."

"I noticed," said Eris not unkindly. "Either way, you know there's no chance of us killing this thing, right?"

"Naturally."

Aragoth flew in for a second assault. This time, it floated above them and aimed at Eris, scythe flashing through the air and sending down bolts of crimson lightning that cracked the ground where they landed, that being right where Eris had just been standing. She leapt left, once, twice, thrice, four times, and once more as the last bolt landed, then clapped her hands together. The ground around her bare feet rumbled, and from the fresh-made cracks leapt roots that changed midair into clasping hands, grasping for Vivāda's spindly limbs as the spirit flew this way and that, trying to dodge. Val whipped again, this time catching it on the wrist and grounding it. A root got it around the  other, then another on the throat, another on the leg, but it wasn't down just yet. With the groan of a wounded bear Vivāda heaved, pulling the roots out of the ground and sending Eris back a leap, then flinging Val towards her where they landed in a heap. 

Vivāda seethed, its scythe turning black. "THISSSSSS WORLD PERISH, IT WILL FESSSTER AND ROT UNDER THE UNFORGIVING SSSUN, AND ASSS IT DEVOURSSS ITSSEELF, I SHALL WATCH AND SSSUSSSTAIN MYSSSELF ON ITSSS DECAY!" It shot towards the circus, wielding its scythe above its  head as if about to land the killing blow-

As Vivāda was about to pass over Val and Eris, it rebounded, tumbling back and coming to a halt above the caravan, bewildered and scrabbling desperately at its own face. Assured that it wasn't burning, it screeched and went left, then right, then backwards, each time refused exit and flailing back to where it'd been. It fixed her sights on Val, and roared, "YOU DARE TO DECEIVE ME? TO IMPRISSSON ME WITH YOUR FEEBLE MAGICSSSS?"

Val nodded. "Yup."

Vivāda flew at her. Val and Eris leapt apart. Val's whip flew, the snake baring its fangs and driving them full-force into Vivāda throat. Even this didn't stop it; tethered to Val, Vivāda's scythe slashed again and again into her stomach, chest, face, arms, legs. Each wound felt like a nail being driven into the bone, and the sensations seemed to grow, eating up more skin with each second they lived. The snake held fast. Val held onto it with both hands, her heels cutting grooves into the mud as the spirit pulled back, left, right tried to unroot her. 

A flurry of lights spilled into the space between them, where the snake was taught and the two ancient women stared one another down, and suddenly there was no sight between them. Each one was trapped in a stormcloud of winking light, a pink-blue-yellow-white haze, and nothing else. No night, no Eris, no enemy. Val released the snake's grip and rolled backwards to where the air was clear. The fairies were swarming Vivāda's face, hundreds upon hundreds of them, and they were...Val couldn't quite describe the sound, but it was similar to when you cut through a thick piece of beef with a serrated knife. Tearing, she supposed. Lots of tiny tears. 

Eris was incandescent. From the other side of the ring of salt, Val could see her; hair floating upwards, loose clothes billowing with some invisible breeze, eyes too wide to blink. She waved an arm and a torrent of white drops fell from the swarm, smouldering on the grass. She jerked her chin and it moved with her, sending another sheet of white in that direction. Then she snapped her fingers, and just as quickly as they'd appeared, the fairies flew back into the trailer like a swarm of bees returning to their hive. Vivāda was suspended above them, looking like a glowstick someone had pierced; fluorescent white trickled from bitemarks and drizzled onto the grass, and soon the ground was dense with fog. It clutched at itself and drifted away, towards the trailer, backing up with its eyes fixed on Eris, who cracked her knuckles. "Let me remind you. You aren't welcome here."

"I suppose that answers one question," said Val. "they do work for you."

"Chaos isn't an easy resource to come by. They help me do so. Hell, why do you think I work for you?"

Vivāda said nothing. It was backing steadily towards the caravan, panting like its lungs were filled with water, eyes darting between the two of them. Then, about halfway there, it made a break for it, whipping like a flicked handkerchief across the sky, hands scrabbling for the door. 

It rebounded. I tried again. Again. It rebounded. The caravan rose in the air, and took two giant steps back. Then turned around. Bhumika, with her gargantuan arms beneath the thing, set it down and walked around the fray, eyeing up the spirit. "Is that far enough, Boss?" As if to answer her the moon broke from behind the clouds and touched the ring of salt, lighting it up like a ghostly bullseye with the caravan far outside its border. Again, only about forty percent of the circus could be considered "unholy." The rest could come in, out, even create one. Though in the middle of the night Val was sure it'd been no easy task. 

Vivāda roared in anguish and raised its scythe, the blade flashing violet. It pointed it at Eris, and screamed with a voice like a throat full of those needles of hers. "IF I'M TO PERISH HERE THEN YOU SHALL PERISH WITH ME!" 

"Lord, you were right," said Val. "No chance in hell are we killing her,"

Eris nodded, gripping Val's hand and staring down the flash of purple as it broke free from Vivāda scythe and flew at them. "Perhaps we should, as Eucaria says, bounce?"

"Certainly. Jaya!" the pair split and leapt back, the spell hitting the ground between them and erupting into violet gas that smelled like smoking tires, and on the other side of the ring of salt Jaya crossed the threshold, mouth agape. It was a desperate sprint, Val and Eris streaking down opposite sides of the ring to meet at the other end, and before they could reach her a streak of orange flew past and erupted into flames in the grass before Jaya, but she didn't move. Jacques stepped into the ring. At his full height he was only five ten, a bespectacled man with a five- o'clock shadow most times of the day. But when he spoke, with backwards words in a language nobody else understood, and the ground became slick with ankle-deep water, the earth seemed to shake with the weight of his speech. A second orange bolt came, and bounced off Jaya in a cloud of steam, leaving a rainbow in the air in front of her. She noticed it, and smiled-

Right as Eris was making the leap into her mouth. She got in-just, bringing a couple of incisors with her. Followed by Val, who tried her best to be gentle. The fall through the esophagus wasn't as damp as you'd expect, but it was certainly...ribbed. Unpleasantly so. Eris and Val were crushed against each other like they were going down a slide at the same time, and reached the pit of the stomach (overall spacious, with a small writing desk and a pile of books in the corner) almost as soon as they were hurled violently out again, and tumbled, as Boo sometimes said, "arse over tit" onto the grass. 

They were on the other side of the ring of salt. Inside, Vivāda was staying quite still. It hovered a metre above the ground, the grass still smoking white at its ankles. It dropped the scythe and before it hit the dirt it'd dispersed into bubbles. Everyone was so quiet you could hear them popping. 

Val was the first to say something. "You'll go back where you came from. You'll go quietly, and without resisting. You will stay where you came from and you won't think of us again until you're less than memory. Until the last remnant of your history has been crushed into the earth with the fossils and bones of people yet to come. Do you understand?"

Vivāda floated close to the ring's boundary and placed the two white spiders of its hands near the invisible wall with the tips just barely grazing it. They burst like matchsticks into smoke and sparks, but didn't move. "AND IF I REFUSSSE?" it tilted its head. 

"You'll spend the rest of time right there," said Eris. "Under every charm, every hex, every spell there is and will be invented from now until the end of time, that can be used to keep you here, and hidden."

Vivāda laughed. "YOUR FAITH IN HUMAN RESSSTRAINT IS ALMOSSST ADMIRABLE...HUMANS WILL FREE ME...THEY ALWAYSSS DO...THEY ARE THE BREATH THAT FILLSSS THE LUNGSSS OF DISCORD..."

"Come off it," said a small but certain voice. The congregation turned, and there was Muriel, glowing in the light of the trapped spirit, wand in hand. Euci was beside her with her arm in a sling, looking peaky but intact.  "I watched that clown of ours eat seventeen people in as many months in Paris and nobody as much as batted an eyelid. Euci's still got bits of her left on the Eiffel tower, but she made it through airport security all the same. People can ignore anything unless they benefit from not doing so," she approached the ring and pointed her want up at Vivāda. "tell me. Do you benefit anyone?"

"I AM THE GOD OF CHA-" 

"Chaos is over there," Muriel jerked her finger at Eris. "you're discord. You're Chaos' less talented younger brother who thinks being shitty to his friends is a personality trait. They won't find you," she brought her face right up close to the boundary, so close that her nose began to smoke. "they don't want to find you."

She stepped back. Vivāda said nothing. Muriel waved her wand, hummed something backwards, chattered her teeth and threw a handful of sage into the air, before rearing back and stabbing the tip of her wand into the salt boundary's wall. It erupted with light, the ground vibrated enough to drive worms to the surface in an instant, the shriek of a boiling kettle filled everyone's ears, and a thin fog flooded the air. It took a minute to clear, in which there was some very desperate hand grabbing, some improper and accidental fondling, and more than a reasonable amount of shouting. Val barely had time to reach out before the familiar weight of Euci was clamped over her leg, and hardly a second to react before she felt Eris' lips on hers. The fog cleared and the ring was empty. Vivāda was gone. But Val didn't need to see that to know it was all, for now, ok.  

Val patted her evening hat over her hair. It was an ornate affair; lush purple velvet with a wide brim, absolutely covered in presently unlit candles, the dried wax from which kept them all firmly in place. She snapped her fingers and they all burst into life, and she angled her cigarette up among them. Bringing it back down she took a drag, and slotted her feet into her boots, the last piece of her performance outfit, that being a pair of black leather trousers and your textbook red jacket with pointed coat-tails. Then she sat for a while at her desk, watching the mirror and her absent reflection, thinking about nothing at all. 

It was ten at night. Two hours after the show was meant to open. At first she'd been filled with dread as she made her way  back to the circus, and then with inescapable disappointment; nobody had even arrived. Though Euci had, typical to her impossible fortitude, pulled everyone together. Lyca and Lee were back in dress-rehearsals, the clowns were holding off their withdrawal for another day, Tiffany had received enough praise from her nursing to persuade her that she was, in fact, radiant. They were primed and ready, bloodied but unbound. But without an audience. Unsure of what to do with themselves, they'd spent the next hour or so patching up the Big Top, battening down the hatches, cleaning up the Mess Hall, and even cleared out the dressing room that Tiffany had made such a mess of. Nobody said much during this time, but they were all thinking the same thing; we've let ourselves down. It was all for nothing. We aren't fit to call ourselves performers. All they could do now was spend their energy on cleaning up their mess and trying again tomorrow. And what if tomorrow was just as bad? Or worse? The concept of waking up and doing this whole shtick again felt like an impossible obstacle. 

Until half nine. They were congregating in the Big Top, and Val was trying her best to manage a pep-talk that was as un-convincing as her forged smile. Then Boo, who'd been outside having a cigarette, poked her head around the curtain and bellowed, "VISITOOOORS!"

"How many?" Val stage-whispered, jumping to her feet. Boo held up ten fingers then disappeared behind the curtain. You could have set it to music; the lights went on, everyone scattered, the furniture was lifted and thrown and settled into place, and every dressing room was in pandemonium. The Big Top was emptied, primed, prepared, and not five minutes later the guests trailed in. Val watched from a corner, eyeing them as they looked uncertainly around the empty room, and felt queasy. Guests were guests, but this was embarrassing. She clapped herself on the cheek, focused, and retreated to her dressing room to prepare. Ten people can become hundreds if you play your cards right. 

Now she stood up, and listened to the drumroll from the Big Top as she snapped her fingers and broke into a fine mist. She flitted down the hallway, escaped through a partition in the curtain, and infiltrated the pitch-black Big Top, reforming in the middle of the ring. 

The lights came on, the guests clapped politely, and the music (operated by one of Muriel's less troublesome spirits,) celebrated as she bowed. She gave a winning smile and welcomed them all, gesturing with grandeur at the barren circle around her. Another five had trailed in now. Even better. "Good evening, my esteemed guests, to a performance unlike any other. Tonight you will be privy to secrets known only to us, secrets that push the boundaries of your very cognition, and which beg you to question the reality you've come to understand," after a little more teasing, she snapped her fingers. The lights flashed, and she was gone, replaced by an assault course of rings and hoops and trapeze and seesaws. There were some gasps. Good. People never believed her shpiel at the beginning, some even laughed. But that little trick was usually enough to get them wondering. She wafted into the shadows at the perimeter of the ring, and watched.

The drums began. A pack of mountain lions appeared from under the bleachers, snarling and roaring and growling at the guests, each one adorned with a glit collar that twinkled in the spotlights that followed them around the ring as they leapt through the assault course in single file and in perfect synchronicity, till they blurred into a shining gold lemniscate. The string instruments broke in, rising over the drums then falling in time with them as a mob of shadows flooded in from the empty darkness around the ring, forming ranks and running in the opposite direction on the lions' course, leaping over and under them, and suddenly each wolf was illuminated as the luminescent bandana around its neck caught the light. They twisted around each other, lights melding together in the darkness to form shapes, patterns, even words and phrases like 'resist,' and 'ACAB.' Their personal flair. 

The act went on for a while, complimented by the guests' hushed gasps and the palpable tension in the air, each spectator humbled and terrified by the collection of vicious beasts in front of them, close enough to hear their ragged breath beating out of their chests in growls and pants, yes mesmerised by the sheer style and synchronicity of their act. They climaxed with a handful of isolated spotlights on some smaller groups that did some artful flips and jumps with each other, and one particularly risky trapeze act that sent one of the larger cats hurtling towards the bleachers, only to be snatched out of the line of fire at the last minute by one of the narrower wolves, the two landing opposite ends of the seesaw and acting like it was all intended. Nobody dared clap when the lights dimmed. When they went back up, the clowns had materialised in their place with no sign of the assault course. Only then did they feel safe enough to applaud. 

Clowns were a hard act to get right these days. Too many had turned out to be murderers, and the overall look was rather intimidating. And while none of them, not even Oleg, consented to having their perpetual makeup removed, they did allow for it to be painted over in more subdued, human tones, with just a handful of glitter in there for flair. They appeared in rows wearing tight blue tuxedos with hair swept sideways, each one clutching a briefcase in his pudgy little hand and chattering angrily to his neighbour. Oleg was behind them with his enormous feet resting on an oversized desk as he read a newspaper. Then, as the music hit his que, he whipped it down with great force and the smaller clowns leapt in surprise, all screaming at once. The audience laughed, and Oleg leapt over the desk to start his 'Angry Businessman, Featuring Idiots' routine. For a good twenty minutes he had the other clowns running all over the place; he stuffed them into their own briefcases, chucked them across the ring into hastily erected basketball nets, he picked up their proferred drinks and cakes and spilled each and every one across him, as precisely clumsy as a real accident yet primed for maximum spillage. All the while the audience's laughter was constant, a rumbling engine of people's voices falling over each other, a waterfall of joy. 

They crescendoed in the classic, in which the smaller clowns squeezed themselves into an RC car, and with two outside manning (and fighting over) the controller. They drove it into Oleg's ankles, knocking him onto his own desk that collapsed under him. They flooded out of the car, the audience aghast at the feat of contortionism, and bound Oleg down Gulliver's Travels style, before the lights faded to black and the Big Top exploded in applause. The binding was more of a necessity for getting Oleg back to his abode, than anything else. But they always found a way to work it in. 

Tiff was next. The trapeze, lined with fairy lights and bejewelled to the point where anyone else's hands would be scraped to shreds after one swing, descended from the ceiling. She wasted no time, swooping across the audience's eyeline and turning a full three-sixty in the sky before grabbing the falling handle with her extra legs, the momentum as the rest of her body pulling her by faster and faster, each time sending her higher, her turns more complicated, leaving it later and later before she saved herself from the unforgiving ground below. The audience was on tenderhooks, each drop yielding louder gasps, each turn sending them closer to the edge of their seats. A third trapeze fell from the ceiling, then a fourth, a fifth, a sixth, and suddenly Tiff was flinging between each one, changing direction midair with a careful turn, a skillful nudge from an unseen leg, and the tension was almost too much to bear; Val could feel it in her lungs each time she inhaled, the oxygen felt thick as though no-one else were breathing. 

Then, Tiffany missed. The audience's gasps warped into screams, people stood up from their seats as she dropped dead through the air, a full foot away from the nearest trapeze that was falling further away by the second. Far below, the ground was illuminated with cat's eyes that rebounded the spotlight as it followed Tiff, showing just how far away from it she was, how treacherous the drop. What the audience then saw was the trapeze swinging quickly back towards her before she flipped and hooked her legs around it and flew across the air to do one last flip before landing, and the lights going out all at once. In reality, Tiff had just flung a bit of web out to nab it. Nevertheless, the darkness exploded with cheers. 

Next was Ba'al. The perimeter of the ring burst into flames. People screamed, but quickly quieted as two balls of fire swung in a mesmerizing pattern in front of them, moving so fast they could draw lines in the afterglow- and they did. Ba'al wrote a story in the light, bounding around the ring to keep up with each action, each subtle movement of the heroine's hand, every twitch of the antagonist's eye, so fast you'd expect him to have more hands than just the two. The audience was entrenched. Val had a simple way of testing whether they were interested or just bored, and it was this; she scattered a handful of loose change at the foot of the bleachers where they rang and tinged against the metal. Nobody looked, or moved an inch. They were too focused on the crimson painting Ba'al was bringing to life, with the wordless story he was writing with the aid of Muriel's drums, (musicians weren't nearly so cheap as magic.) The story reached its peak, Ba'al's movements became more subtle, and the music rose. He let them put the story together using the pieces he'd already given them. Then, suddenly, darkness. One, two, three, four, five seconds, long enough for people in the audience to start panicking that they'd never see the end. Then, with the roaring of a waking volcano, he exhaled a massive ball of fire into the air. It splayed out in front of the audience like a scroll unfurling, a landscape painting for them all to see, that moved and danced and closed the story for a few minutes more, until the cinders slowly faded and died. Never had you heard such applause, such happy tears. Ba'al had always wanted to write. 

The penultimate act was Jaya and Jacques. The former stood alone in the middle of the ring, in her evening down and little adornment. For a moment, the audience was confused. Then she opened her mouth. And they were in ecstasy. 

Jaya's voice, like the siren's of legend, drove people into a frenzy. If you wanted to hear sorrow she'd sing you the nursery rhyme your dead grandmother used to hush you to sleep with. If you needed to feel empowered, she'd sing the soundtrack of the movie that changed your life. If you needed courage, she'd sound just like you. But better, happier. And it wasn't that her song changed between people, no. With her abstracted ears, Val could hear each one, each contrary note falling out of her mouth at once. She was like a jukebox to the soul. She rose, her notes grew higher, climbing the spectrum and pulling the audience to their feet, moving left and right and bringing them with her, mouth opening wider and wider. The audience was positively screaming. 

She clung to a high note, and suddenly another spotlight appeared, way up in the air on a platform at the top of a twisting iron staircase. Jacques was standing there in a blue suit, dapper and tidy. Almost debonair. His head was practically grazing the tented ceiling as he nodded to the audience, who were agape, caught between his sudden appearance and Jaya's voice. A drumroll appeared out of nowhere, and they waited. One, two, three, four- there it was. One of the men in the audience fainted. As he slumped to his knees, the drums stopped, and Jacques dove over the platform into empty space, plummeting towards Jaya. Two more people fainted before they made contact. Jacques fell into Jaya's open mouth and disappeared inside her, bringing the note to its end and releasing the audience from its spell as the lights shut off. And they were silent. They looked at each other in the dim light as if waking up from a dream, and smiled. Silent smiled of indescribable joy, at a shared experience so intimate they may never feel it again. 

Finally. Val snapped her fingers and wafted back into one of the shadows in the ring, her hat reigniting as she stepped into the light. The audience barely reacted to her appearance now, as to be expected. After all that, a woman who could disappear into the shadows was hardly a miracle. She pulled her cigarette holder out of the air and brought it up to her hat, then pulled it back down and took a drag. "My esteemed guests. It is time for us to say goodbye. But please remember the secrets you saw here tonight," on what appeared to be its own volition, a pudgy little cannon wheeled across the ring to sit beside Val. It was purple and red pin-striped, with 'Kannonball Kid' printed on the side. She flicked her wrist and a hatch in its rear opened up. "you must keep them to yourselves and between each other. These experiences, these marvels that the earth had given life to, are for your eyes only," Nothing screamed 'free publicity' like implied secrecy. 

Eucaria appeared from behind the cannon, puffing on her cigar. She pointed her finger at the audience and made a clicking noise with her throat. Strange child. She pulled the cannon into position, and from the shadow that Val had used to reappear she produced a wheelbarrow absolutely loaded with bright-red sticks of dynamite, black orbs with long fuses sticking out, and crates labelled 'EXPLOSIVE.' It was hard to get people to recognise what they were otherwise. She loaded them into the back of the cannon as Val continued. 'We welcome you all to remember your night with us, and to keep the wonders of reality and nature in the forefront of your minds," Euci finished loading and closed the hatch. She swaggered to the front of the cannon and waved. Val clicked her fingers again, and grey smoke clouded Euci's head, forming an aviator's helmet and goggles, firmly fastened. "But for now, my friends," Val concluded as her daughter climbed in. "We bid you adieu, and say, 'until next time, stay strange.'" she bent down beside the cannon, touching the end of her cigarette to the fuse before stepping back. She waved, and the lights went up to reveal the rest of the acts behind her, taking their bow to the cacophony of cheers and claps and hoots. A drumroll began, and all eyes were on the cannon. 

The fuse hit its limit, and in a blast that threatened to bowl the bleachers over Euci was launched through the air, through the hole in the ceiling into the night sky where she disappeared like a star winking out of existence. The audience watched her go, her wake snowing with glitter and streamers from the cannon, and were speechless. They looked back down to where Val and the other acts had been, and saw it empty. As was the whole ring. And the ground, no leftover glitter or paper, not even a scrape in the dirt. Gingerly they escaped the bleachers, looking quizzically at the Big Top, devoid of all the glitz, just a circle of dirt in the dusky light of a few humming light bulbs. As if all the acts had been just shadow puppets that were now extinguished in the glaring light.

Boo tucked her head around the curtain, smiling. "Finished up already, ay? Ya'll have a good night?"

[steve0discusses]

Yugioh S2 Ep 26-27: Marik Also Tries Mind-Crushing, Except Literal and With A Very Large Storage Unit

Ah, Yugioh, where two children are possessed by ghosts and two other children are possessed by just some guy named Marik.

He’s still pretty sure he has a plan. To be honest, at this point it just seems like he’s desperate, but I have to hand it to Marik, that he’s doing more than just relying on a spooky golden maraca thing he keeps in the side pocket of his cargo pants. Something that a lot of shows do really wrong with villains (pointing fingers directly at My Hero Academia while I’m typing this) is that they rely too much on their fancy looking superpowers to show they’re a bad guy. It’s fine to have super powers but you gotta back it up with making sure you’re throwing your heroes into a psychological nightmare--at least once.

At least once, MHA, it is Season 3. Please. You have such a huge budget and the best animators in the world. Please. I beg of you.

Yugioh, on the other hand is like...when WON’T we be in a psychological nightmare?

And so Marik has decided, after the bandsaw murder clown incident, the blown up skyscraper 100 story fall to your death incident, and the spooky mime incident, that he was ready to just really go to town on effed up villain stuff today. It’s time to pull all the stops. He’s got Yugi’s BFF’s all ready to turn on Yugi, he’s got an abandoned shipyard...for some reason...

All in all, as much as I rat on Marik, I very much appreciate that he didn’t monologue in some Mahjong bar for twelve episodes about all the reasons he wants to do evil stuff, he just goes out and does it. Let me rephrase, he just goes out and makes other people do it, but at least someone is doing something in every episode. Can’t say that about all the TV I watch.

You do have to hand it to him he never does the same plan twice.

(read more after the cut)

So, spotting Joey from afar, Kaiba lands his helicopter dangerously close to him, and just walks out unarmed, his smallest brother standing next to him. Mokuba is still taking everything in from last episode apparently and he’s just really confused most of the time as Joey starts going off about himself in the third person to Yugi.

And Seto decides to just watch? He doesn’t call for help, he doesn’t use his crazy amount of leverage, and he doesn’t do the smart thing which would be to run the hell away, he just kinda soaks this all in and has decided that he lives here now.

So, Marik, who can do a lot of the dark magic stuff Pegasus and Bakura have showed us, decides to instead go old school and forgo magic for most of this fight (other than some possession of course.)

Like I said before, if you’re gonna write a villain, they gotta get in your hero’s head a bit. It’s villain 101. Should it ever go as far as a Yugioh villain on kid’s TV? I mean proooobably not necessary? But something this episode does is show that a villain does not need superpowers. All they need, is to test your hero’s greatest insecurities to the breaking point, which is something Marik does really well, and surprisingly a lot of shows I don’t need to mention, because I already have, don’t do. They kinda rely on “well he’s got evil powers, so he’s evil and they punch a lot” while not understanding that it was never the powers that gives a show that tension that villains bring.

Like, Yugioh does a lot of things wrong, but surprisingly, they know how to write a clearly evil villain who’s just overheard that Yugi’s big thing is this bond of friendship--which is really childish--but he goes with it anyway. So he makes this bizarre Joker-like card game scenario that is based on breaking those friendship connections. But leave it to Yugioh to have something really pure in theory but in practice turn into this screwball nightmare. Yugioh is kind of like a really simple chocolate cake but there’s a tire on it and it’s on fire.

I will say, it is odd that Seto got dragged here into the friendship battle, as he is the worst friend. So now he also gets to go through friend torture with some school mates he occasionally has class with. TBH, I don’t think Seto has even realized yet that he has also been 100% abducted since the moment he walked off that helicopter. Seto lives in a nice denial place.

So lets go over Marik’s Big Plan #7.

First, off you gotta put on these shackles, seen here:

I feel like Shackles are this seasons Maze Labyrinth. I mean I guess Yugi’s shackled to his destiny? Or at least the destiny of the ghost he’s attached to? Anyway, so many shackles this season.

And then these shackles and chains are connected to Joey as well as this anchor we see here:

What nice symbolism to illustrate that Yugi’s friendship will drag everyone he knows along with him--as it has for the past 2 seasons. Not really a big spoiler for everyone involved in this battle.

And then this was a thing Marik added just for kicks, which can be symbolic, too, but I don’t feel like diving into it:

I actually never thought these two would actually cancel a game. Mokuba decided against blowing his whistle at it though, he decided it was probably too late for that. Aaaaaand it was:

Yo, how do you sneak up on people with a 70 ft crane?

Honestly I was surprised that Seto cared enough about Tea to not move, but I guess he couldn’t kill Tea in front of Mokuba. And I dunno, Seto and Tea never really talk to eachother, so I guess I’ve never noticed that he thinks she’s decent enough to continue existing. He might like her better than anyone else on this show other than Mokuba. And I’m not saying that to ship them, although I’m sure it’s a fine ship sailing around out there, I’m just saying that it is notable when Kaiba accepts that someone else besides a Kaiba deserves to live.

And then one last touch:

I guess no one told Marik that Tea and Yugi aren’t actually dating? I mean how much would it suck to go on one date with a guy and then all of a sudden you’re dealing with all of his villains?

Accurate, actually, that is exactly how dating works. You go one date and then you casually run into him in an elevator and then all of a sudden he’s like “So my ex fiance took me to court over the engagement ring and it’s so unfair that I can’t get that money back when she’s gonna marry this other guy she’s only known for a month anyway.” and it’s like “You were engaged?”

But, for his credit, 2 weeks later I needed a date, called him up, and he was like “Sorry, I’m in the hospital because I got an ulcer removed because apparently there’s too much stress in my life pulling these allnighters for my classes, and my car died and it’s gonna cost 2k to fix it, and then my ex fiance visited me in the hospital which was hella weird because my Dad is here. Anyway I got a tube down my pee hole and it was the worst pain I’ve felt in my life including the ulcer they removed from my gut. But I dunno. When’s the date?” and I just assumed he was pranking me but turns out, the next day, my teacher confirmed the kid was in the hospital and as high as balls.

Anyway, Pharaoh isn’t the worst person in the world to date, I guess.

It’s nice that Yugi was able to find all of his accessories in blue leather and silver rivets.

The duel begins, everyone cries, except for Tea who’s just screaming from the sidelines that Joey needs to remember how much he loves Yugi. She reminds him to think of the experiences they’ve shared and it was like oh boy maybe skip the part where you bullied Yugi to to hell and then he got cursed with a ghost that lives in his body.

TBH, I feel like it would be bad to introduce Serenity to the fray? Like if I were Marik I’d be like “woah get Joey’s sister out of here, that’s gonna snap him out of it.” but it’s not like Marik gets the whole family love thing anyway, living with Ishizu.

In case you were wondering, yes Mokuba actually tried to explain to Tea what was going on, so the show went over what the hell was going on I want to say like 3 times. Which is something you kinda have to do when you’ve turned your card game into Mousetrap.

And so this is where the episode ended, and I was capping along and felt like this could be a two parter post for this weekend, so why not? Lets continue.

Ah, and it starts out with Marik on a boat.

That boat gets mysteriously bigger and bigger every time it shows up. How many Rare Hunters are there? Like 10? And do they have to rent an apartment on this boat, like how does this all work? And if they do rent an apartment on the boat, who’s cooking? Like Marik, obviously is not a cook since he’s a living disaster, but I want to know more about boat life. Did Bandit Keith ever make them a crunchwrap supreme? Is one of the Rare Hunters always playing Wonderwall? Do they tan on the bow? Why would this boat ever need to be this big?

And I know this isn’t any of the Yugioh spinoff shows, but if I were to write one it would absolutely be Marik’s Boat Life. That would be the name.

Anyway, Yugi decides to fly over Pharaoh’s shoulder like a little angel. It’s been kind of a while.

So like it’s foreshadowed pretty strongly that Yugi’s decided “why even bother, Pharaoh, we don’t need your card talent today. At least my life will end as I lived, short and very awkward”

On the other side of town, Tristan has to go up a group of these Rare Hunters, and from everything we know about Tristan, this shouldn’t be so difficult? Like he punched out Bakura and threw Double Spike Mullet over his shoulder at one point, but unfortunately, punches don’t seem to work. But do you know what does?

I completely forgot Duke Devlin was a character in this show. Surprised he’s not in this competition, but apparently his game he’s making alongside Pegasus is really panning out--which is kind of effed up because Pegasus is a murderer. But youknow...I guess that everyone in the show decided to overlook that?

Whatever, I spent an entire episode trying to understand that, lets get back to the friendship plot line. Yugi decided to play a card that lets Joey take a card from Yugi’s hand, which gives him an opportunity to show Joey’s dragon. But will Joey overcome Marik and take this very good card to use on Yugi? (bro just corrected me and told me this card is actually not good but wtv)

He takes a different card. Friendship triumphs over...this card that I should know more about but I don’t watch the card games so I’m just gonna wing it here.

And then Yugi plays it anyway, and the music swells and it’s meaningful again.

Because the Red Eyes is connected with his heart now. Not sure when that happened exactly but it apparently happened at some point.

Seriously, when did this happen? I ask a lot of questions rhetorically but feel free to answer that one. Did I miss something? S1 this card was just kinda there.

Pharaoh, sensing that Yugi has very well lost his mind and will be absolutely hit by a fireball, decides to take over. Remember that the last time Yugi got hit with a fireball, he passed out pretty much before it hit him. And then he died. Yugi died last time a fireball hit him (I’m pretty sure that was a fireball in the Pegasus fight? It feels like years ago). Mind, that was a shadow duel, but apparently that doesn't matter this season because all the cards are real and no one cares that this is a very big problem.

Pharaohs legs are either three times the size of his torso OR they’re wearing extremely high waisted pants. Both scenarios are good.

And he gets hit in the face with a fireball.

And doesn’t pass out. Good for him. He is about 15% alive though, Yugi is basically going to die if he gets hit with another fireball. Like his lifepoints still say 1000 but it takes him like ten minutes to walk all the way around this pier and give Joey this:

Luckily, Marik as Joey plays cards so slowly, that the ten minute walk was still shorter than a single turn in Yugioh.

Also this is a thing? Just anyone can put that on?

so this whole time anyone could have been wearing the ring to Mordor? Just anyone? OK then.

Anyway, next week, on Yugioh:

Does Marik have any lag on that superpower of his, because I feel like it would make this show make some more sense on his part? Did the mime just walk home? If they all did die this way--not saying the will or won’t because they’ve died so many times now, but if they DID--weirdest way to die, amiright?

And if you’ve stumbled onto this blog which is halfway through S2, let me direct you to this handy link, which gives you all the recaps in chronological order from S1

[arimsplayground]

I'm done.

I think life is trying to break me. It's been nothing but struggle for 22 years, and every time I get somewhere something or someone else wants something, or takes something, pushing me back down. And each time it's becoming a more permanent issue. Oh, you wanna go to school, so you can move away from an abusive home, sure, but you need 200000 dollars. Oh, and by the way, now that you're in school, you should know your identity was stolen and no, the credit card companies don't believe it wasn't you. So yeah, pay that off. Oh, and your dad should be able to help you with signing a loan or something right? Nah, your step mom didn't do that for her drug addicted daughter, or the one that moved to live with her father(a different one than yours or the other daughters), so he can't do that for you either. Oh, and if you need 20$ for gas, that's fine but we want it back immediately, and you better come see us more even though we live 3 hours away and you make minimum wage. Oh, but you also need to graduate with honors. I don't care if you have a 3.0, if you don't get that tassel, I don't care. But, not in that degree, no that's too dangerous, do a desk job. Why are you always broke anyway? You're only putting yourself through a four year school. Oh, you want an apartment, fine, but the landlord is going to screw you over, and change your lease date two weeks before your supposed to.move out and call it an eviction when you don't pay for the two months they added. And your dad won't help with that either. And your step dad, who is the only person who cared about you, is going to die. And your fiance, who you love dearly, yeah, his parents hate you because your not Asian. Oh, and because you got in a car accident and they think it means you are a danger to him. Never mind the fact they fucking abused him, and that's why he won't talk to them, it's obviously your fault. Oooh, and sorry, but that job you love, yeah, your going to lose that because of a he said she said situation with a convicted felon. But, you know, legalities, gotta cut our losses to be safe. Use it as a learning experience. You want a new job then? Okay, we will even give your fiance one, but you still won't be able to find a place to live. That other landlord, yeah they finally decided to communicate with places now that you've got a deposit down, and because they say they evicted you, this place can't take you. Never mind the fact you have a decent income. Well, at least you can stay with a friend til you find a place right? Nah, actually his roommates dad is passed that his son still has to pay his rent (even though you're paying rent to use the bed of a different roommate, and so have essentially picked up the lease for one of them that's already moved) so no, he says you have to get out, don't care what deal you had with anyone else, if his son has to pay rent, you won't be staying there. Or you can pay him back for all of his rent for the last year, even though it's only been a month, and you are already paying a portion of the rent. In fact, actually, you'd better just clean his sons whole area so he doesn't have to because when he left last year, don't care if you didn't even know him last year, he had to clean it (which was his mess) and got charged. Oh, and don't forget the money. Well, grandma has a spare room. Actually, no, she can let you stay foe a bit (even if it's an hour away from work, with no traffic) but because grandpa died her landlord doesn't want her to stay so she will have to move in a few months too, and the landlord can't know your going to stay.

Oh, and don't forget about the car payment that's 400 even though you've had it for a few months and it's never worked right, or the storage unit you have to have now (despite getting rid of most of your stuff, including some signed books you loved, in order to make it fit) and the phone bill that your dad is making you pay 75 dollars of, when your portion is actually only 50. Or the hospital bills from the car accident, and the ones you need know because of the injuries from it.

Oh, and don't forget to go to physical therapy.

So yeah. You know what. You win.

[komorebi-rabbit]

So I have like.... 12 weeks to pull off a fuckin’ miracle. I’m feeling a little jittery/amped/terrified/psychotic all rolled into one. I really gotta get this shit moving tomorrow.

Convince my father in law to loan us money using my husband’s truck as collateral and partial payment

“Convince” my grandma to let us use her electric and water and a spot in her yard. (Not difficult, but it still must be done.) 

Buy a camper for cheap that’s habitable with minor cosmetic fixes.

Park it at my grandma’s, hook that bitch up and make it run. 

Fix and update whatever needs to be. I’ll be doing the majority of this by myself... in the blazing summer heat... 

Get that shit done by AUGUST! I got school then and our lease is up QUICK.

Pack the entire house except for absolute essentials. I’m downsizing from a 2 bedroom townhouse to a camper. This ain’t gonna be easy. 

Sell whatever I can. 

Hire movers to get furniture out.

Get a storage unit that will FIT everything. 

Downsize! Downsize! Downsize! When combined with packing, this will be the most time-consuming part, probably. 

Remember to notify our landlady that we’re moving out.

Somehow figure out how to set up 2 desktop gaming computers in a camper including high speed, hard-wired internet lmao

A bunch of other little tasks like cleaning and replacing appliances and buying a specialty washer/dryer combo... 

fuck me up, man, I’m so pumped for this? Like this is a whole new chapter of our lives... We’ll finally be living in something we own... even if it is on someone else’s land. No more rent. No more rules. No more worrying about “how much are they gonna increase rent this year?” No more “am I allowed to do this?” No close neighbors. No annoying stomping or semi-public areas... This will be all ours. We’ll be parked between two tree lines, separated from my grandmother’s house yet close enough that I can just walk there. 

It will be a long drive to school, and a longer commute to my husband’s work. But we will be saving at least $1200 a month and goddamn if that’s not worth it. Also got to deal with a smaller space and fewer creature comforts but we’ve been through the pros and cons a million times already. What we sacrifice in space, we make up for in efficiency. (Hell, it’ll only take me 10 minutes to clean the whole house instead of 4 hours.)

I’m talking to myself here, I know, but sometimes writing it all down helps me get shit straight in my head. Tomorrow we’re going to get boxes and contact my grandma and father in law and try to get this ball rolling as quickly as possible. I’m so scared ‘cause it’s all happening so fast and there’s so much that can go wrong. Until we get that thing parked and set up, I’m going to be doing the majority of the work alone.

Summer was supposed to be a vacation, not a new terrifyingly exciting adventure lmao

[illbefinealonereads]

Blog tour! I present to you some info and an excerpt from She’s Faking It by Kristin Rockaway.

She’s Faking It Kristin Rockaway FICTION/Romance/Contemporary  Trade Paperback | Graydon House Books On Sale: 6/30/2020 978152580464 $15.99 $19.99 CAN

You can’t put a filter on reality. Bree Bozeman isn’t exactly pursuing the life of her dreams. Then again, she isn’t too sure what those dreams are. After dropping out of college, she’s living a pretty chill life in the surf community of Pacific Beach, San Diego…if “chill” means delivering food as a GrubGetter, and if it means “uneventful”. But when Bree starts a new Instagram account — @breebythesea — one of her posts gets a signal boost from none other than wildly popular self-help guru Demi DiPalma, owner of a lifestyle brand empire. Suddenly, Bree just might be a rising star in the world of Instagram influencing. Is this the direction her life has been lacking? It’s not a career choice she’d ever seriously considered, but maybe it’s a sign from the universe. After all, Demi’s the real deal… right? Everything is lining up for Bree: life goals, career, and even a blossoming romance with the chiseled guy next door, surf star Trey Cantu. But things are about to go sideways fast, and even the perfect filter’s not gonna fix it. Instagram might be free, but when your life looks flawless on camera, what’s the cost?

BUY LINKS:

Harlequin Amazon Apple Books Barnes & Noble Books-A-Million Google Play IndieBound Kobo

Kristin Rockaway is a native New Yorker with an insatiable case of wanderlust. After working in the IT industry for far too many years, she traded the city for the surf and chased her dreams out to Southern California, where she spends her days happily writing stories instead of software. When she's not writing, she enjoys spending time with her husband and son, and planning her next big vacation.

SOCIAL LINKS:

http://kristinrockaway.com/ Facebook: /KristinRockaway Twitter: @KristinRockaway Instagram: @KristinRockway

Excerpt

From Chapter Two

“Don’t these books make your purse really heavy? There’s gotta be some app where you can store all this information.”

“Studies show you’re more likely to remember things you’ve written by hand, with physical pen and paper.” She reached across my lap and opened the glove compartment, removing a notebook with an antiqued photograph of a vintage luxury car printed on the cover. “For example, this is my auto maintenance log. Maybe if you’d kept one of these, like I told you to, we wouldn’t be in this predicament right now.”

I loved Natasha, I really did. She was responsible and generous, and without her I’d likely be far worse off than I already was, which was a horrifying thought to consider. But at times like this, I wanted to grab her by the shoulders and shake the shit out of her.

“A maintenance log wouldn’t have helped me.”

“Yes, it would have. Organization is about more than decluttering your home. It’s about decluttering your mind. Making lists, keeping records—these are all ways to help you get your life in order. If you’d had a maintenance log, this problem wouldn’t have caught you off guard in the middle of your delivery shift. You’d have seen it coming, and—”

“I saw it coming.”

“What?”

“This didn’t catch me off guard. The check engine light came on two weeks ago.” Or maybe it was three.

“Then why didn’t you take it to the mechanic?” She blinked, genuinely confused. Everything was so cut-and dried with her. When a car needed to be serviced, of course you called the mechanic.

That is, if you could afford to pay the repair bill.

Fortunately, she put two and two together without making me say it out loud. “Oh,” she murmured, then bit her lip. I could almost hear the squeak and clank of wheels turning in her head as she tried to piece together the solution to this problem. No doubt it included me setting up a journal or logbook of some sort, though we both knew that would be pointless. The last time she’d tried to set me up with a weekly budget planner, I gave up on day two, when I realized I could GrubGetter around the clock for the rest of my life and still never make enough money to get current on the payments for my student loans. You know, for that degree I’d never finished.

But Natasha was a determined problem solver. It said so in her business bio: “Natasha DeAngelis, Certified Professional Organizer®, is a determined problem solver with a passion for sorting, purging, arranging, and containerizing.” My life was a perpetual mess, and though she couldn’t seem to be able to clean it up, that didn’t stop her from trying. Over and over and over again.

“I’ll pay for the repairs,” she said.

“No.” I shook my head, fending off the very big part of me that wanted to say yes. “I can’t take any money from you.”

“It’s fine,” she said. “Business is booming. I’ve got so much work right now that I’ve actually had to turn clients away. And ever since Al introduced that new accelerated orthodontic treatment, his office has been raking it in. We can afford to help you.”

“I know.” Obviously, my sister and her family weren’t hurting for cash. Aside from her wildly successful organizing business, her husband, Al, ran his own orthodontics practice. They owned a four-bedroom house, leased luxury cars, and took triannual vacations to warm, sunny places like Maui and Tulum. They had a smart fridge in their kitchen that was undoubtedly worth more than my nonfunctioning car.

But my sister wasn’t a safety net, and I needed to stop treating her like one. She’d already done so much for me. More than any big sister should ever have to do.

“I just can’t,” I said.

“Well, do you really have any other choice?” There was an edge to Natasha’s voice now. “If you don’t have a car, how are you going to work?”

“I’ll figure something out.” The words didn’t sound very convincing, even to my own ears. For the past four years, all I’d done was deliver food. I had no other marketable skills, no references, no degree.

I was a massive failure.

Tears pooled in my eyes. Natasha sighed again.

“Look,” she said, “maybe it’s time to admit you need to come up with a solid plan for your life. You’ve been in a downward spiral ever since Rob left.”

She had a point. I’d never been particularly stable, but things got a whole lot worse seven months earlier, when my live-in ex-boyfriend, Rob, had abruptly announced he was ending our three-year relationship, quitting his job, and embarking on an immersive ayahuasca retreat in the depths of the Peruvian Amazon.

“I’ve lost my way,” he’d said, his eyes bloodshot from too many hits on his vape pen. “The Divine Mother Shakti at the Temple of Eternal Light can help me find myself again.”

“What?” I’d been incredulous. “Where is this coming from?”

He’d unearthed a book from beneath a pile of dirty clothes on our bed and handed it to me—Psychedelic Healers: An Exploratory Journey of the Soul, by Shakti Rebecca Rubinstein.

“What is this?”

“It’s the book that changed my life,” he’d said. “I’m ready for deep growth. New energy.”

Then he’d moved his belongings to a storage unit off the side of the I-8, and left me to pay the full cost of our monthly rent and utilities on my paltry GrubGetter income.

I told myself this situation was only temporary, that Rob would return as soon as he realized that hallucinating in the rainforest wasn’t going to lead him to some higher consciousness. But I hadn’t heard from him since he took off on that direct flight from LAX to Lima. At this point, it was probably safe to assume he was never coming back.

Which was probably for the best. It’s not exactly like Rob was Prince Charming or anything. But being with him was better than being alone. At least I’d had someone to split the bills with.

“Honestly,” she continued, “I can’t stand to see you so miserable anymore. Happiness is a choice, Bree. Choose happy.”

Of all Natasha’s pithy sayings, “Choose happy” was the one I hated most. It was printed on the back of her business cards in faux brush lettering, silently accusing each potential client of being complicit in their own misery. If they paid her to clean out their closets, though, they could apparently experience unparalleled joy.

“That’s bullshit, and you know it.”

She scowled. “It is not.”

“It is, actually. Shitty things happen all the time and we have no choice in the matter. I didn’t choose to be too broke to fix my car. I work really hard, but this job doesn’t pay well. And I didn’t choose for Rob to abandon me to go find himself in the Amazon, either. He made that choice for us.”

I almost mentioned the shittiest thing that had ever happened to Natasha or to me, a thing neither of us had chosen. But I stopped myself before the words rolled off my lips. This evening was bad enough without rehashing the details of our mother’s death.

“Sometimes things happen to us that are beyond our control,” Natasha said, her voice infuriatingly calm. “But we can control how we react to it. Focus on what you can control. And it does no good to dwell on the past, either. Don’t look back, Bree—”

“Because that’s not where you’re going. Yes, I know. You’ve said that before.” About a thousand times.

She took a deep breath, most likely to prepare for a lengthy lecture on why it’s important to stay positive and productive in the face of adversity, but then a large tow truck lumbered onto the cul-de-sac and she got out of the car to flag him down.

Grateful for the interruption, I ditched the casserole on her dashboard and walked over to where the driver had double-parked alongside my car.

“What’s the problem?” he asked, hopping down from the cab.

“It won’t start,” I said, to which Natasha quickly followed up with, “The check engine light came on several weeks ago, but the car has not been serviced yet.”

He grunted and popped the hood, one thick filthy hand stroking his braided beard as he surveyed the engine. Another grunt, then he asked for the keys and tried to start it, only to hear the same sad click and whine as before.

“It’s not the battery.” He leaned his head out of the open door. “When was the last time you changed your timing belt?”

“Uh… I don’t know.”

Natasha shook her head and mouthed, Maintenance log! in my direction but I pretended not to see.

The driver got out and slammed the hood shut. “Well, this thing is hosed.”

“Hosed?” My heart thrummed in my chest. “What does that mean? It can’t be fixed?”

He shrugged, clearly indifferent to my crisis-in-progress. “Can’t say for sure. Your mechanic can take a closer look and let you know. Where do you want me to tow it?”

I pulled out my phone to look up the address of the mechanic near my apartment down in Pacific Beach. But Natasha answered before I could google it up.

“Just take it to Encinitas Auto Repair,” she said. “It’s on Second and F.”

“You got it,” he said, then retreated to his truck to fiddle with some chains.

Natasha avoided my gaze. Instead, she focused on calling a guy named Jerry, who presumably worked at this repair shop, and told him to expect “a really old Civic that’s in rough shape,” making sure to specify, “It’s not mine, it’s my sister’s.”

I knew she was going to pay for the repairs. It made me feel icky, taking yet another handout from my big sister. But ultimately, she was right. What other choice did I have?

The two of us stayed quiet while the driver finished hooking up my car. After he’d towed it away down the cul-desac and out of sight, Natasha turned to me. “Do you want to come over? Izzy’s got piano lessons in fifteen minutes, you can hear how good she is now.”

Even though I did miss my niece, there was nothing I wanted to do more than go home, tear off these smelly clothes, and cry in solitude. “I’ll take a rain check. Thanks again for coming to get me.”

“Of course.” She started poking at her phone screen. A moment later, she said, “Your Lyft will be here in four minutes. His name is Neil. He drives a black Sentra.” A quick kiss on my cheek and she was hustling back to her SUV.

As I watched Natasha drive away, I wished—not for the first time—that I could be more like her: competent, organized, confident enough in my choices to believe I could choose to be happy. Sometimes I felt like she had twenty years on me, instead of only six. So maybe instead of complaining, I should’ve started taking her advice.

 Excerpted from She’s Faking It by Kristin Rockaway, Copyright © 2020 by Allison Amini. Published by Graydon House Books.

[imagining-supernatural]

Avenging Angel: Part 29

Summary: You’ve spent the last five years on a dangerous mission to solve the crime that wrongly imprisoned your father. When the Winchesters find you half-frozen on the side of a mountain, they make it their own mission to save your life and make sure you stay alive. But after five years of uncovering horribly dark secrets, you’ve learned not to trust anyone. Especially people who seem like they have good intentions.

Word Count: 1573

Warnings: None

A/N: So, I know I said I wouldn’t be able to get anything out until Sunday, but I have no self control and I have no discipline when it comes to studying... so here’s part 29! And let’s hope I don’t get a 29% on my test tomorrow :)

A/N.2: The links won’t work on this part. All of the links are on my series masterlist < https://imagining-supernatural.tumblr.com/post/158422944355/avenging-angel-masterlist >

Part 1 -- Part 2 -- Part 3 -- Part 4 -- Part 5 -- Part 6 -- Part 7 -- Part 8 -- Part 9 -- Part 10 -- Part 11 -- Part 12 -- Part 13 -- Part 14 -- Part 15 -- Part 16 -- Part 17 -- Part 18 -- Part 19 -- Part 20 -- Part 21 -- Part 22 -- Part 23 -- Part 24 -- Part 25 -- Part 26 -- Part 27 -- Part 28

Vicious_Carrot: Guess what I did today. ~Up6Dn

LindseyLovesJohn: Hacked the CIA? ~t9

You knew that telling t9 about how you hacked the FBI in college was risky. Telling anyone about that was risky. But you trusted them enough to not get you in trouble for it. In fact, the only thing they seemed to want to do was tease you about it, which was perfectly fine with you.

Vicious_Carrot: I went to the gym.

Vicious_Carrot: Worst decision I’ve made in a long time.

LindseyLovesJohn: I thought you hated working out. Didn’t you once tell me you were less coordinated than a baby horse?

Vicious_Carrot: Don’t worry, I won’t make this mistake again :)

You glared at the workout clothes that you’d thrown in a pile in the corner of your storage unit. Your case on your father had run cold. There had been no new leads in months and you were getting antsy. Wondering if working out would help you was what had pushed you to pay the daily fee to get into the gym, but you’d regretted that decision from the moment you stepped up to the treadmill.

Vicious_Carrot: Know of any places hiring in the DC area? I’m running low on cash.

And you should probably get out of the state. Maybe a cross-country trip would help you expand your horizons and find answers.

LindseyLovesJohn: Gimme a bank account and I can wire you 10k.

Vicious_Carrot: You just happen to have 10k laying around? Who are you?

You also hadn’t been able to trace t9 back to whoever they really were. Not that you had tried too hard. It was the mystery surrounding them that had drawn you in. As long as they remained anonymous to you, they would probably remain anonymous to the person who hurt Celeste and Quentin.

LindseyLovesJohn: t9. We’ve been talking for a few months now?

LindseyLovesJohn: You don’t really want to know who I am. Just know that I want to help.

You thought about it for a minute. Ten thousand dollars would last you much longer than some minimum wage job would. You could travel and visit places your father mentioned in his journals. Get closer to the truth.

Vicious_Carrot: Let me set up a burner account and I’ll send you the routing and account number.

*****

*****

“The employees are all glaring at me.” You said into your phone as you glanced around the lobby of the building. “It’s like when I first started dating Braxton and everyone could tell that I didn’t fit in in these hoity-toity expensive places.”

“So you’re saying you won’t be able to steal anything without being caught?” Dean asked, and you heard a muffled thumping noise that you imagined was Sam hitting his shoulder.

“Dude.”

“What? We could sell anything from that place and live like kings for a month.”

Laughing, you walked over to a window and sat on a bench. Braxton wasn’t supposed to be here for another ten minutes. “Or I could just finagle another hundred grand from the Covingtons.”

“New plan,” Dean started. You mentally prepared yourself for whatever he was going to come up with. “You’re already in Vegas. You marry Braxton. We kill Braxton. As his wife, you get his inheritance and whatever else he has. Bam! We’re set for life.”

“She’s not going to marry Braxton,” Sam said at the same time you said, “We’re not gonna kill Braxton.”

“That’s a relief,” Braxton himself said from beside you, only having heard the part about not killing him. His early arrival didn’t surprise you.

Your head snapped up and you watched him walk the last few steps toward you. He was dressed in an everyday suit that probably cost more than your rent in college had for six months. Everything about him screamed confidence and wealth and you were reminded why it had been so easy to pretend to be in love with him for so long.

To Sam and Dean, you said, “He’s here. I gotta go.”

“We see him. Be careful,” Sam’s voice in your ear reminded you of all the reasons you weren’t actually in love with Braxton. Nothing that happened with the Covingtons was real. Sam was. And knowing that he was watching all of the cameras made you feel slightly better about this whole thing.

“I will. I’ll call when I can.”

“Was that the Winchesters?” Braxton asked when you hung up.

You took his proffered hand and stood up, letting him pull you into a familiar hug. “Yes it was. And don’t worry. They’re over an hour away. I stupidly came alone, just as you asked.”

Braxton pulled back and eyed you closely, eyebrows drawn together.

“What?” You asked when he didn’t say anything for a moment.

“Nothing… I just… I can never tell if you’re telling the truth. I forgot how weird that is.”

“Right,” you drawled as Braxton twined his arm with yours and started leading you further into the building. “Mr. I Can Get Into Everyone’s Heads. I forgot about that. It’s oddly satisfying to be the one person who can show you how the rest of us live every single day of our lives.”

“You can keep showing me that for the rest of our lives,” he replied.

And here you were hoping he’d given up on anything personal between you two and that this meeting was just to try and get the research out of you. “Braxton…”

“Sorry. I forgot. My dad walked in on you with one of the Winchesters. You sure move quickly.”

“Let’s not do this, okay? I came here to see if you were telling the truth about me having a sister, and you wanted me here so you could try and get the research from me. That’s all we are anymore.” Even though any feelings between you two were fabricated, it was still weird to be with someone who you dated for a year. It was like there were these residual feelings of what-ifs and maybes. “Besides, you’re engaged to fake me, so you moved on pretty quickly too.”

“Fake you is a placeholder for the real thing.”

Oh god, he wasn’t going to let this go, was he? Braxton wasn’t really in love with you. Both of you were just pretending. But when you pretend for so long, it’s easy to start believing it yourself. “Braxton, look, I—“

“Not just for us, Y/N. She’s a placeholder for you in the bigger picture.”

Well, that took you down a few notches. He wasn’t just after you to be his girlfriend again? “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Braxton led you over to the elevators and produced a key. Once it was just the two of you in the elevator, he inserted the key and pressed the button for the roof. “I’ll explain later.”

You really wanted that explanation right now, but you supposed that you would have to wait. After all, sometimes you had to pretend to give into people’s demands to get them to really open up.

“Why are we going to the roof?”

He turned to you with a condescending grin. “You didn’t really think we were going to stay here, did you? I’m sure you have the Winchesters surveilling you somehow.”

“Helicopter?” At your nauseous question, Braxton nodded. Any concern about the Winchesters losing visual of you were quickly overshadowed by the impending threat of flying and being that high up in the sky. You threw away your dignity and started begging him to not do this. “Look, Brax, I can handle airplanes because it’s an enclosed space, I can get an aisle seat, and I can pretend we’re not miles up in the sky. But I don’t do heights. Especially in something as small as a helicopter.”

“Good thing you won’t be conscious for this ride, then,” he said just before you felt a pinch in your neck and the cool liquid coursing through your bloodstream as he injected whatever was in the hidden needle into you.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Stumbling away a few steps, you leaned against the wall and watched Braxton with wide, disbelieving eyes. Your hand unconsciously went up to rub at where he’d stabbed you with the needle, even though you could do nothing at this point.

“Protecting you. You can’t know where we’re going. If you did, then someone could torture you for that information. Now give me your phone so I can tell your hunter pets that I’ll have you back safe and sound in two days. I don’t want those overprotective idiots after me.” When you didn’t move, Braxton just sighed and crossed the space between you to slip your phone out of your pocket himself.

The world was getting fuzzy, and blinking didn’t help clear anything up. But you were desperate to stay awake, so you had to keep talking. “People could still torture me for that info.”

“But you can’t give it up this way.” Braxton wrapped his arm around your waist just as the elevator came to a shuddering stop and your legs gave out. Whatever drugs he shot you up with, they were taking hold. “Don’t worry, Y/N. I’ll take care of you until you wake up. You’ll be fine.”

The last thing you were aware of was Braxton’s voice trying to calm down the Winchesters on your phone and the deafening noise of helicopter blades.

Part 30 of Avenging Angel (Links are working on this post for some reason, so here’s the URL: https://imagining-supernatural.tumblr.com/post/158727095120/avenging-angel-part-30 )

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[jbhenwiler]

David and the Crystal Gems in... David’s Room

This episode takes place between Day 3 and the Epilogue of the original Redemption from a Dark World story.

David and the Crystal Gems in… David’s Room

Amethyst: So are we going to keep David on the couch forever, or what?

Pearl: (Folding Steven’s laundry)  Huh… I completely forgot about that.  How long have we been having him sleep on it?  He is an adult, perhaps we should find him his own place to live in.

David walks in.

David: Hey Pearl, Amethyst.  What’s up?

Pearl: Were were talking about arranging proper living quarters for you.

David: Of course!  I was wondering when I’d be getting my own place, but Beach City is still a little unfamiliar to me.  I was worried I wouldn't be able to find a good apartment or house.

Pearl: Well, we’re kinda in the same boat.  We’ve never been house shopping before.  Greg should be able to help us, though.

Almost by magic, Greg, walked into the house.

Greg: Hey, Pearl, I need some help with my van.

Pearl: Oh, Greg, your timing is perfect.  We need your help as well.

Greg: What kind of help?  You know I’m not good with your Gem stuff.

Pearl: Nothing of the sort.  We need you to assist David in finding a house.

Greg: A house… As in you want me to help David find a place to live?

Pearl: Exactly.

Greg: Well, I suppose there is the classifieds; let me go get a newspaper from the Big Donut.

Greg leaves for his van.  About 15 minutes later, he returns.

Greg: Here.  (hands David the newspaper)  Have you ever read the classified ads before, David?

David: I had a lesson on it in high school.  My 12th grade year had a required course on independent living.

Greg: Perfect.  This here’s the Beach City Gazette.  Try finding a place you can easily afford.

David leafs through the paper and finds an apartment on the other side of town.

David: Let’s try this one.

Greg: OK then, let’s go take a look at it.

Greg and David hop in the van and drive to a small apartment unit.  They get out and look around.  The property is clearly not in good condition.  

Greg: Sheesh, this place looks really run down.

David: This was the only place I could find in the paper that I could afford.

Greg: Actually, this won’t work anyway.  (Points to a sign on the window)  Look, the place’s already rented.

David: (Sighs) We’ll have to keep looking then.

They get back into the van and drive back to the beach house, and David enters alone.  Steven is now home from helping Gems in Little Homeworld.  No one else is present.

Steven: So I heard you’re moving out.  Any luck in finding a good place to live?

David: I found one place, but it’s in bad shape and it’s already rented.

Steven: Bummer.  Beach City is a pretty good place to live, so a lot of places are full.  Hmmm… (Thinks to himself)  Wait, there’s one place in this area that always has openings.

David: And that would be…

Steven: Little Homeworld!  It’ll be awesome!

David: Steven, I’m not a Gem!

Steven: That’s fine, we can make it work.  Just spend one night there and see if you like it!

David: I really don’t know about this but… I trust you, Steven.  Let’s do it tonight.

Steven: It’s a deal!

Steven drives David to Little Homeworld…

Steven: Hey guys!  We’ve got a new resident!

Calcite: Ooh, what kind of Gem is she?

Steven: (His face kinda wilts as he realizes what he’s doing) He’s… Not a Gem at all.  David?  Come out of the car.  (David nervously steps out of Steven’s vehicle)

Calcite: A human!?  Steven, are you sure this is the right place for him?  I mean, they have a whole city to themselves!

Steven: Don’t be like that, Calcite!  He has nowhere else to go, and Little Homeworld welcomes everyone!

Moss Agate: Yeah!  This’ll be so much fun!  Our own little human to play with!  (David immediately has very uncomfortable flashbacks of his world’s Rose Quartz, causing him to grimace with discomfort)

Steven: (Sees David’s face, and whispers to him) Just one night, OK?  (David nods)

Cherry Quartz: So… Where we putting him?

Steven: Well, who wants David to live with them?

The Gems look amongst themselves, until Larimar raises her hand.

Steven: Little Larimar!  You sure you can handle him?

Larimar: Of course!  I will take good care of the human.

Steven: (To David) Go with her.

David: Steven, this really isn’t sounding right.

Steven: Just give her a chance.  She might seem odd, but she really likes humans.

David nervously follows Larimar through the streets of Little Homeworld to a squat hut painted the same blue as Larimar’s gemstone.

Larimar: Here is my wonderful little home.  I hope you like it, brown-haired pale human.

David: (Taken aback by Larimar’s “name” for him) Please call me David.

Larimar: Of course, you humans go by personalized names instead of your type.  I am still learning how to interact with your species.  Forgive me.

David: (Now feeling a little sorry for her) No need to apologize.  This is new for me too.

Larimar: But you already live with Gems.

David: True, but Pearl, Garnet, Steven, and the others are more experienced with humans.  Anyway, let’s go inside.

Larimar: Agreed.

The inside of Larimar’s home is filled with ice sculptures and not much else.

David: Umm… Where do I sleep?

Larimar: Where do you what…?  Oh, right.  That thing humans do when they rest at night.  You can sleep… Over there.  (Points to the floor in the corner of the house’s single room)

David: The floor?  Well, I guess I should have expected that.

Larimar: What do you mean?

David: Well, normally humans sleep on soft structures called “beds,” but since this place is designed for Gems, I guess there wouldn’t be one here.

Larimar: You are correct, this is a home for Gems.

David: (Sighs)

Larimar: (Looks at David, and also sighs)

David: (Looks questioningly at Larimar)

Larimar: (Sees David’s look) To live with humans, I must understand humans.

David: That’s good thinking, but you don’t need to imitate everything I’m doing.  Anyway… I’m going to go get something to eat.

Larimar: I have plenty of snow cones in storage!

David: That’s a nice thought, but us humans can’t survive on just ice.  (Takes a warp whistle out of his pocket) And I can go practically anywhere on the planet for food.

Larimar: A whistle… For warp pads!  I haven’t seen one of those in ages.  The Crystal Gems must really trust you.

David: (Smugly grinning) Indeed they do.

15 minutes later, in Mexico…

David: ¿Me gustaría un burrito?

Taco Stand Owner: Sí.  Cinco pesos por favor.

David: (Hands over 5 pesos he just had converted in a Mexican bank)

Taco Stand Owner: Gracias.  (Goes to his kitchen to prepare the food)

Minutes later...

David: (Eating the burrito)  Sorry Mira Aquí, these burritos are mucho mejores.

Ten minutes later…

David arrives by warp pad back in Little Homeworld, still holding part of the burrito.  A gathering of Gems had assembled around the warp, waiting for him to return.  David is caught off guard by all the Gems surrounding him.

David: Uhhh…. Can I help you guys?

Moss Agate:  Where’d you go?

Calcite: What’s that thing in your hand?

Cherry Quartz: How did you use the warp pad?

David: (Decides to take things in stride) I went to Mexico, this is a burrito, a classic Mexican food product, and thanks to the power of warp whistles, I can use pretty much any warp pad.

Everyone: Wow!

Moss Agate: So, we have so many questions we’d like to ask.  Here’s mine: what’s it like being a human?

David: (Bewildered)  That’s a REALLY difficult question to answer.  (Sits down on the edge of the warp)  It’s nice.  I’ve always felt at home with myself.  Steven told me the Crystal Gems, especially Rose Quartz, wanted to protect us because unlike most Gems at the time, we had the power to change.  Change our roles, our jobs, our outlook on life.  Even our bodies are constantly evolving.  So I guess being human feels kinda… Comfortable.

Everyone is enthralled.

Bixbite: So that’s why Rose turned into Steven!  She wanted to be more comfortable!

David: Uhh, I’m sure her reasoning was MUCH more complex than that…

Bixbite: What’s eating feel like?

David: Well, I’m told Gems can shape-shift the necessary organs for eating, so all of you can definitely experience that for yourselves.  Don’t ask me the specifics though.  Amethyst would be much better explaining how to make yourself a stomach and stuff.

Before David can react, Bixbite swipes the leftover burrito out of David’s hands.

David: Hey!

Bixbite takes a huge bite out of the burrito.  She immediately goes star-eyed.

Bixbite: Oh my stars, this.  Is.  AMAZING!!  (She quickly scarfs down the rest of the burrito)

David: (Both angry his food got stolen and concerned that Bixbite won’t be able to properly digest it)  Oh CRUD…  (Gets up, whips out his phone and dials Steven)

Steven: Hey, David, what’s up?  How are the Gems treating you?

David: (Voice comically high-pitched from nervousness)  Hi, little bro Steven!  Hey, I kinda made a short trip to Mexico for dinner and Bixbite here decided to eat some of my food from there?  I don’t think she knows how to make a digestive system, so is it a bad thing she ate something??  

Steven: (Thinking in his head: Uh-oh, he’s gone falsetto.  That’s never a good sign)  Uhh… I’ll bring Amethyst over.  Be right there, OK?

David: (*Still falsetto*) OK, see you soon!

Moss Agate: Woah, I didn’t know humans could raise their voices like that!

David: (Very nervous) Yeah, that’s kinda a thing we do, you know, when we--

Bixbite siezes over with sickness.  Seconds later, Steven and Amethyst warp in.

Amethyst: Hang on, Bixbite!  I got you!  (Rushes over)  Here’s what you gotta do…  (Whispers instructions on forming a digestive system to Bixbite)

Bixbite creates a digestive system within herself and her sickness subsides.

Steven: Whew, that was a close one.  David, why did you feed Bixbite?

David: I didn’t!  She swiped the food out of my hands!

Bixbite: Yes, I did.  I’m sorry, David.

Steven: That explains it.  Did you really go all the way to Mexico for food?

David: Yep.

Amethyst: Wow, that’s some dedication.  Just remember to use that warp whistle responsibly.  No joy rides across the globe, okay?

David: I know the rules.  And I won’t go offworld without you guys either.

Steven: Good.  Anyway, the Sun’s beginning to set, so I gotta go get dinner myself.  Oh, and Gems?  (Everyone listens in)  Next class in Little Homeschool is going to be how to make digestive systems for human foods.  I don’t want anything like this happening again.

All Gems: Got it!

Steven: Alright.  I’m out.  See you guys!

All Gems: Bye!  (Exit Steven and Amethyst)

Bixbite: I want to eat more.  Can you take me to Mexico, David?

David: Uhh… I don’t know about that… For one thing, they speak a different language there.

All Gems: They do!?

David: Yeah, depending on what part of Earth you’re in, humans speak all sorts of different languages.

Cherry Quartz: What languages do you know, David?

David: Well… My first, “native” language is English, but I also know Spanish and a little German.

Moss Agate: That’s so cool!  Speak a different language!  I want to hear what it sounds like!

David: Uhhh… ¡Hola!  ¡Me llamo David!

Calcite: Ooh!  What was that?

David: I said “Hi!  My name’s David,” in Spanish.

Everyone is amazed.  Just then, Larimar enters the crowd.

Larimar: Ah, David!  You’re back from your food-gathering mission!  And I see you’re interacting with your new friends!

Moss Agate: This human is amazing!  No wonder Rose Quartz wanted us to save them; they’re all so cool!

David: (Blushes) Wow, uhh, thanks?  I mean, I’m not that special.

Calcite: By the way, where’s your sword?  Don’t you always carry it around?

David: I… Don’t have it today.  And probably for good reason.  I don’t want to scare any of you guys.

Calcite: Aww, man!  But I wanted to spar with you!  (Pulls a small flail out of her Gem, causing David to become a little frightened)

Just then, Bismuth comes to the front of the crowd.

Bismuth: Absolutely not!  For one thing, we don’t fight humans, even for fun, and for another, David’s sword isn’t like any other sword.  It’s capable of slicing straight through a Gem, even shattering one.

Everyone: WHAT!?

Bixbite: David can shatter us!?

Bismuth: That’s not what I meant, people!  What I meant is that you shouldn’t take sparring with David lightly.  He’s really good with that sword of his.

David: And in any case, I would never shatter a Gem.  Only reason the sword is made that way is because…  Well…

Moss Agate: Well?  Why do you have a shattering sword?

Bismuth: David isn’t from around here.  In fact, he’s not even native to this dimension.

Everyone is shocked.

Bixbite: But he’s human!  He has to be from Earth!

David: I AM from Earth… Just not this one…  The one I come from… Well…

Bismuth: David’s version of Earth was taken over by the Diamonds.  He lived a terrible life there, and nearly died on several occasions.

Now everyone looks sorry for David.

Calcite: You poor thing!

David: My sword is made that way because in the world I come from, every fight was a fight to the death.  Thankfully, I never had to fight, so I never shattered anyone.  In any case, I never fight Gems.  If I have to, I’m very careful.  And there’s only two reasons why I’d attack you.  First, if you pose a direct threat to my life, and second, if you REALLY make me angry.

Moss Agate: I see.

Bismuth: Anyway, David, what are you doing here this late?  Don’t you have to go back to Steven’s place?

David: Well, I’m trying to move out on my own, but there’s no places I can afford in Beach City, and Steven thought it would be a good idea for me to try living here.

Bismuth: (Very confused face)  That’s a really dumb idea.  I don’t know what Steven was thinking.

Calcite: That’s OK, we love having him here!

David: Uhh, anyway, I’m going to go warp somewhere and buy a sleeping bag for Larimar’s place.  See you guys!  (Walks onto the warp pad and warps to a mall in California, which is the only warp pad he knows that’s close to a mall)

David walked through the Californian mall and eventually found a camping supply store.  He browsed the aisles until he found a comfortable-looking bag and he took it to the register.

Camping Store Employee: Going on a trip?  I know some really beautiful camping spots north of here.

David: It’s actually for a sleepover at a friend’s place.  We’re having a party for the beginning of the Summer Olympics.  But I’ll keep that suggestion in mind.

Camping Store Employee: That’s cool.  That’ll be $57.

David pays with his debit card and leaves the mall for the warp pad.  Soon he’s back in Little Homeworld.  This time, the Gems aren’t surrounding the warp, and he goes straight back to Larimar’s house.  Inside he notices it’s really cold due to all the ice inside.  Since he’s wearing summer clothes, he begins to shiver.  Larimar notices this and comes over to him.

Larimar: Why are you shaking like that?  There’s nothing to be afraid of here.

David: I’m not scared.  It’s just that it’s kinda chilly in here and I have a lot of thin clothing on.  I’ll be fine if I go into this sleeping bag I just bought.  (Begins to unfurl the bag from its storage pack)

Larimar: Humans start shaking like they’re scared if it’s cold…. Interesting.

David: (Still fumbling with the sleeping bag) It’s so our bodies can generate friction to stay warm.

Larimar: Fascinating.  But it would be inhospitable for me to have this room so cold that your body needs to activate a defense mechanism.  I will turn on the heating systems.

David: No need to do that, it’ll melt all your beautiful sculptures and I don’t want that to happen!

Larimar: But I don’t want my human companion to be uncomfortable in his own home.

David: It’s OK, Larimar, I’ll be fine.

Larimar: Very well.

David lays his sleeping bag on the floor in the corner, and unzips it.  He slips into the sleeping bag and zips himself in.

Larimar: What a curious contraption.  Is that what you will be slumbering inside?

David: Yep.  And please don’t bother me when I’m sleeping, we humans don’t like that.  Also, could you turn out the lights?  We usually sleep better in the dark.

Larimar: Of course.  (Flips the light switch)  Good night, David.

David: Good night, Larimar.  (Closes his eyes, and ten minutes later, he falls asleep)

David awakens and notices it’s still dark outside.  He also notices a weight on his body.  He looks down his sleeping bag and notices Larimar is on his stomach, looking straight at him.

Larimar: Your body is so warm…

David: Ahh!!  Larimar, get off of me!!

Larimar: Okay.  (Stands up)  You have a wonderful scream, by the way.

David is extremely weirded out.

David: I’m…  Going to go use the bathroom.

Larimar: Use the what?

David: (His face sinks when he realizes what that means) Larimar, this house DOES have a bathroom, right?

Larimar: What’s a bathroom?

David: Arrgh!!  (Runs out of the house)

David looks desperately for a public bathroom and finds none.  He curses to himself and runs behind a house where a large bush lies.  The camera cuts to the front of the house.

Cherry Quartz: (From behind the home) Are you okay?  Why are you leaking fluid into this bush?

David: AHHHHH!!  (Quickly zips up his cargo shorts and runs back into the square.

Bismuth is strolling through the square when David rushes straight into her.  Being as sturdy as Bismuth is, she doesn’t even flinch at being collided with by a human running at top speed.

Bismuth: Hey, watch where you’re goi-  Oh, it’s you, David.  Why are you up so early in the morning?  (Now notices that David is blushing profusely and has a somewhat panicked look in his eyes)  What happened?

David: You don’t wanna know.

Larimar walks into the square, with a confused face.

Larimar: Was this my fault?  Did I not do a good job of taking care of the human?

David’s heart breaks.

David: Larimar… No, that’s not what’s going on at all…  You did a wonderful job.  Don’t blame yourself for this.

Enter Cherry Quartz.

Cherry Quartz: Dude, something’s really wrong with David.  He was totally spewing fluid all over a bush behind my house!

David’s face turns bright cherry red.

Bismuth: ...I see what’s going on here.  You two, Larimar, Cherry, over here.

The two Gems walk over to Bismuth.

Bismuth: First off, what David was doing was completely natural.  Second, this may have been my fault.  When I designed Little Homeworld, I didn’t have human visitors in mind.  ‘Cause of that, I didn’t include facilities that a human would need to function, like kitchens and bathrooms.  I definitely was NOT anticipating Steven making a human a permanent resident.  David doesn’t deserve to be forced to live in a place that’s not built for him.  BUT, there’s a better way.  I have an idea that’ll fix this up perfectly.

Cherry Quartz: And that is…

Bismuth: I’m going to build David his own home.  There’s one problem though; Little Homeworld just isn’t a place where a human can thrive.  He needs to be closer to other humans.  Unfortunately, I can’t just put up a random house within Beach City limits.  The permits alone would take forever.  But there’s one place in just the perfect location.  I’ll just need Pearl, Garnet, and Amethyst’s approval first.

David: You don’t mean?

Bismuth: There’s enough room off to the side of Steven’s beach house for another addition.  I’ll just build a separate bedroom there.  David gets his own living quarters, made the human way, and everyone’s happy.

David: Really?  Are you sure it’s okay for me to live with the OG Gems permanently?

Bismuth: You’re just as much a Crystal Gem as any of us, kid.  Pearl, Garnet, Amethyst, and Steven each have their own magical little room, so it’s high time you got your own.  Design-wise… How about a small beach hut?  It’ll blend in with the existing house and have its own little flair.  I’ll connect it with the porch on the first level.  I’ll even build furniture for it.

David’s eyes are sparkling with joy.

David: It’ll be perfect… Thank you Bismuth!

Bismuth: Don’t thank me yet, the job hasn’t even started!  Let’s wait until morning, then we’ll warp over to Steven’s place and talk up the plan with ‘em.  In the meantime, I’ll draw up blueprints.  See ya at dawn.  (Exit Bismuth)

Moss Agate and Calcite had arrived a bit before and had been listening to Bismuth’s speech.

Moss Agate: So… You’re leaving us?

David: I guess so.  You Gems have a wonderful place here, but like Bismuth said, it’s not really a place where humans can thrive.  It just wasn’t built that way.

Calcite: Well, I kinda saw this coming anyway.  Humans are fun to be around, but to have to live with one isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.  You’ll still visit us though, right?

David: Of course.  Maybe I’ll even show up at Little Homeschool to help teach you guys how humans work.

Moss Agate: That’ll be awesome!  I mean, Amethyst, Steven, and Pearl do a good job with the school, but to have a real, live human to educate us on themselves would be amazing!

David: Uh, don’t completely count Steven out of the human party.  He may have a Gem, but he’s just like us too!

Moss Agate: Uhh, right.  Sorry about that.

David: Anyway, I guess I’ll go wait for dawn to meet up with Bismuth.  Larimar?  Would you be able to let me back into your home for just a couple more hours?

Larimar: Of course, David.  My doors will always be open to you.

David and Larimar walk back to the Larimar household.

David: You know, Larimar, one of those snow cones would sound really good about now.

Larimar: Really?  I’ll be happy to make you one.

Inside the house…

David: Wow, these are REALLY good!  Have you thought about selling them?  You could make some money off of them!

Larimar: I will take your words into consideration.

Two hours later…

David: Bye, Larimar!  Thanks for everything!

Larimar: Thank you as well, David!  You have given me valuable insights into the human lifestyle!  Oh, what about your slumbering pouch?

David: Keep it.  In case another human needs a place to stay at your place.

Larimar: Very well.  Go catch up with Bismuth.  She doesn’t like to be kept waiting!

David ran up to the warp pad and found Bismuth there, holding a roll of paper with the plans for David’s room on it.

Bismuth: It’s 7:30.  Steven should be up by now.  You ready?

David: I’m just really hoping they’re okay with me living with them.

Bismuth: I’m pretty well-trusted among the OG Gems, David.  They’ll listen to what I have to say.  Let’s go.

David and Bismuth stepped onto the warp pad and teleported to the ground-floor warp inside the Crystal Temple entrance.  Pearl noticed them warp in and walked over.

Pearl: What happened?

Bismuth: Steven’s plan to have David live with us backfired.  Little Homeworld really isn’t a place for humans to live.  I have a plan though.  Take a look at these.  (Unfurls the blueprints)  It’s a hut we can add to the side of the house here.  It’ll have electricity, air conditioning, and heating, though we will probably have to have David use the main bathroom here, since it would be too difficult to work pipes over to it.

Pearl: (Somewhat skeptical) You want David to live with us?

Bismuth: David’s kinda like Steven, Pearl.  Too attached to Gemkind to live solely among humans, and too human to live only with Gems.  David’s a Crystal Gem, and we need to treat him like one.

Garnet: (Appearing seemingly out of thin air) She’s right, Pearl.  We can’t just kick David out of our house. If David is fine with having a room at the Temple, which I already know he is, then let’s add him to the family.

Amethyst also appears.

Amethyst: Yeah, guys!  He’s got no other family than us!  Rose herself took care of this kid, even if it wasn’t OUR Rose.  That’s gotta count for something!

Pearl: Well, fine.  But let’s let Steven know what’s going on.

Steven: (Had been eavesdropping from the stairs) Way ahead of you, Pearl!  I shouldn’t have forced David to live in Little Homeworld in any case. What EXACTLY happened to trigger this anyway?

David: No bathrooms.

Steven: Really?  I could have sworn there was a porta-potty somewhere in there.  Never mind.  That was REALLY misguided of me to put you there, and I’m sorry.

David: No offense taken.  But I would like to help you and the others teach the Little Homeworlders how to deal with humans, just so this doesn’t happen again.

Pearl: That sounds like a great idea!  Having a full-blooded human on the teaching staff will really help our lessons in human-Gem relations have an extra punch!

Bismuth: So it’s a deal, then?  Should I start work on the addition?

Pearl: Go right ahead, Bismuth.  Get Greg and other Gems to help you too so it gets finished faster.  In the meantime, until the hut’s completion, I hope you don’t mind sleeping on the couch at all, David?

David: Not at all.  I honestly miss that thing.  Having to sleep on the floor in an ice-cold Gem house was NOT my cup of tea.

Pearl: Very well.  Anyway, let’s get you and Steven some breakfast.

Skip half a month, and David’s room is completed.  It is a single room with a full-size wooden bed, two nightstands on each side of it, a small flat-panel television Greg bought for David standing on a long table next to the door, and a dresser with a full-size mirror off to the side of said dresser.  David walks into the new bedroom, holding a small picture frame in his hand.  WIth a reverent smile on his face, he sets it down on the left-side nightstand, and sits down on the bed.  The camera zooms in on the frame.  Inside is the picture of his mother he had brought with him from his world.

[kennethherrerablog]

How to Invest in Real Estate — Even if You’re No Mogul

You might already be investing in the stock market, whether your goal is to fund an upcoming splurge or enjoy a relaxing retirement.

But investing in real estate? That’s a whole different level of penny hoarding… right?

Considering the average price of a new home in America is a whopping $362,400, per Census data from November 2018, it’s easy to think that real estate investments are out of reach for the average earner. Even a minimal 3% down payment on that amount is a five-figure sum!

But at the same time, investing in real estate is one of the most reliable ways to build wealth — and you don’t have to buy a whole strip of office buildings or a swath of rental properties to do it.

In this post, we’re going to cover how to invest in real estate with little or no money to start with, as well as some more creative ways to boost your earnings if you’re getting ready to buy a home.

Why Investing in Real Estate Is a Good Idea

You might think that real estate investing is not only unaffordable, but also a plain old waste of time. Why sink so much money into buying property when there are so many other ways to generate cash flow?

Why is real estate such a good investment?

Well, for one thing, when it goes well, it goes really well. Smart real estate investing is one of the easiest ways to become a self-made millionaire. (Remember, though, that “easy” is relative.)

Even if you’re not hoping to become rich Uncle Pennybags, investing in real estate is a great way to earn a passive, or at least semi-passive, income.

Depending on your approach, your investments could reap rewards with almost zero work on your end.

“Real estate offers a continuum of effort that the investor can put in,” says Scott Trench — and he should know. He’s a personal finance author, house-hacking guru (more on that in a sec!) and the CEO of BiggerPockets.

Oh, and did we mention he’s a real estate investor whose properties have him on track for early retirement… even though he’s yet to celebrate his 30th birthday?

“I like to think of it as a semi-passive business,” Trench says.

When properly managed, investments like rental properties can earn help you earn a hefty paycheck for relatively little work — but it’s also pretty easy to scale the business if you put that money back into your real estate projects.

If buying a whole house of your own is totally off the table, there’s also passive real estate investment to consider: opportunities to put money into real estate without actually purchasing your own property.

In many cases, you can get started on this kind of real estate investing for less than $1,000, and the returns can be substantial.

But before we dive into some specific ways to invest in real estate, let’s go over some key definitions. You’ve gotta talk the talk before you can walk the walk, whether it’s Boardwalk or Park Place you’re after!

Investing in Real Estate: The Lingo

Here are some of the most common terms you’ll hear thrown around in real estate investing circles.

Residential real estate refers to properties designed to be used as places to live. Single-family homes, townhouses and condominiums all count — though homes with more than four units, like apartment buildings and large multiplexes, are considered commercial property.

Commercial real estate is property used for business purposes, such as restaurant and retail space or office buildings.

As mentioned above, extra-large residential buildings are also considered commercial real estate, since they’re generally managed as businesses.

Industrial real estate is property where industrial businesses perform their functions, whether it’s factory space, shipping yards or storage warehouses.

You probably already know this one, but a landlord is someone who owns property and leases it out to a third party, usually for residential or commercial use.

A landlord is also known as a lessor.

A lessee, then, is the person renting the property, who’s also known as a tenant.

Rent is the money a landlord collects from the tenant as compensation for use of the property, usually taken on a monthly basis.

Appreciation is an asset’s increase in value over time. Real estate is one of the only tangible investments whose value tends to appreciate.

Interest is the price charged by a lender for the service of providing a loan, expressed as a percentage of the loan amount.

For instance, according to CalculateStuff.com’s APR calculator, if a borrower takes a $150,000 loan with a 5% APR interest rate, and repays the balance over a 30-year period, that borrower will end up paying the lender back a total of $289,885.27.

That means the lender earns $139,885.27 in interest! (Not a bad payoff, huh? But pretty scary from the borrower’s perspective!)

How to Invest in Real Estate: 3 Ways You May Not Have Thought of Yet

The most obvious way to get involved with real estate investing is, of course, to actually purchase property. And we’re going to go into that investment option in a few minutes.

But what if you want a piece of the real estate investing pie without signing a mortgage — or ever having to respond to a tenant’s 3 a.m. plumbing crisis?

There are actually a variety of passive real estate investment tactics that require nothing but your money. And you don’t necessarily have to have very much of it to start.

Just like investing in stocks, these real estate investment approaches allow you to earn money on the appreciation of the properties you’re backing… without requiring you to actually purchase or manage the property yourself.

1. Real Estate Investment Trusts (REITs)

A real estate investment trust is a company whose bread and butter is purchasing commercial real estate, with the express intent of funding properties that generate income.

REITs then sell shares of those real estate investments to outside investors, who earn money in the form of dividends.

In short, it’s just like investing in the stock market: You put your money on the table to back the company, and you reap returns when the company does well.

In this case, though, the company’s sole mission is to own, operate and finance real estate. So you’re basically buying tiny portions of a variety of different properties you may never even see or set foot on.

Depending on the type of REIT you’re talking about, you may be able to buy into the game for very little money.

Private REITs aren’t traded on the stock market, which means they’re generally unavailable to the average investor. With high fees and higher minimum investments, this is the domain of accredited investors with substantial net worth.

Publicly traded REITs, however, are available on the stock market — and if you have a brokerage account and enough capital to buy a share, you can go ahead and add it to your investment portfolio. However, these REITs do see substantial market volatility just like regular stocks, so it’s definitely not a risk-free investment.

There are also public, non-traded REITs, which aren’t available on the stock market but are registered with the SEC, or U.S. Securities and Exchange Commission. They sometimes carry high investment fees and minimums, but not always, and so may occasionally be an option for the average investor.

2. Crowdfunded Real Estate Investing

If you’re familiar with platforms like Kickstarter or Patreon, you already understand how crowdfunding works.

We found a company that helps you do just that for real estate.

You don’t have to have hundreds of thousands of dollars. You can get started with a minimum investment of just $500. A company called Fundrise does all the heavy lifting for you.

Through the Fundrise Starter Portfolio, your money will be split into two portfolios that support private real estate around the United States.

3. Private Equity Funds and Opportunity Zone Funds

Private equity funds work kind of like mutual funds — or the crowdfunding platforms we just mentioned, but at a higher, less grassroots level.

They still work by pooling the assets of many investors to make high-value investments but are generally limited to accredited investors who can put down at least $100,000.

Opportunity zone funds are another type of pooled-asset investment strategy, but they’re specifically geared toward backing developments in economically distressed U.S. neighborhoods.

Because they help stimulate needed growth in those areas, they’re subject to some pretty appealing tax incentives — especially if you leave your money in the fund for a substantial period of time.

For instance, if you retain an opportunity zone fund holding for five years, your tax liability on capital gains (i.e., earnings made through appreciation) is reduced 10%. If you retain it seven years, the reduction is bumped to 15% — and if you can afford to leave the money tied up for a decade, you won’t pay any capital gains taxes.

That makes backing opportunity zone funds a very interesting option indeed for a qualified investor looking for a long-term investment opportunity.

But again, depending on the fund you choose, you may be subject to an investment minimum of as much as $250,000.

Investing in Real Estate the Old-School Way: Buying Property

If you are on board to become a bona fide property owner — the kind who can actually put the key in the door — there are ways to make buying a home, which is already usually a smart money move, into an even smarter investment.

For those of you ready to sign a mortgage (or even buy a house in cash!), here are some income-generating tactics to consider as you enter the real estate market.

House Hacking

Ever dream of living rent- (or mortgage-) free?

House hacking is all about making that dream possible. (And it’s also how Scott Trench, the real estate investor we mentioned above, got his start.)

Basically, you find a property that you can simultaneously live in and rent — in many cases, a duplex with two separate living areas.

You then use the money you earn as a landlord to eradicate your mortgage payments quickly, ideally eclipsing your monthly payment entirely.

Trench in particular used house hacking as a ladder to get his start as landlord with multiple rental properties.

After he paid off his first duplex, the rent he was earning was pure profit, which he was then able to reinvest in more properties… which earned him even more rent. (Genius, right?)

The best part of house hacking is that it takes a necessary living expense — i.e., keeping a roof over your head — and turns it into an earning opportunity.

So if you’re already looking to buy a home of your own, you may as well see if you can find one that’s hackable.

House Flipping

If you’ve ever magically lost an hour or three of your life by watching the nigh-pornographic property transformations on HGTV, you’re probably familiar with house flipping.

And your experience of that rags-to-riches story doesn’t have to be limited to the TV screen. If you’re relatively handy and have an understanding of real estate values, you could try the tactic yourself.

The way it works is pretty simple, on the surface: You purchase an investment property that could use some TLC — a “fixer-upper,” in common parlance — and put in the repairs and remodels necessary to make it nice and shiny.

The value of the house goes up, at which point you can sell the property for a profit.

It’s important to note, however, that this is one of the most work-intensive ways to invest in real estate. And you do stand to lose a whole lot of money if you don’t do it right.

Renovations are already expensive, and if the house sits empty on the market, you could lose even more money — both in opportunity cost and actual charges, like property taxes.

In other words, this approach is not for the total real estate investing beginner!

Airbnb and Other Vacation Sublets

As anyone who’s taken a vacation in the past five years knows, hotels are so last century.

Nowadays, it’s all about the intimacy, convenience, and relative affordability of peer-to-peer short-term rental accommodations, like the ones available on Airbnb.

If the home you buy has a spare bedroom — or better yet, an outbuilding or separate in-law quarters — you can use that space to turn a tidy profit.

Just be sure you look into the regulations in your area first. Some cities have enacted a short-term rental permit or licensing program in order to ensure enough housing remains available for permanent residents.

As you can see, there are many ways to get started in real estate investing, even if you don’t have the cash to buy a rental property outright.

And who knows? If you play your cards right, the returns you make may just put you in mogul territory — or at least keep a roof over your head.

Jamie Cattanach’s work has been featured at Fodor’s, Yahoo, SELF, The Huffington Post, The Motley Fool, Roads & Kingdoms and other outlets. Learn more at www.jamiecattanach.com.

This was originally published on The Penny Hoarder, which helps millions of readers worldwide earn and save money by sharing unique job opportunities, personal stories, freebies and more. The Inc. 5000 ranked The Penny Hoarder as the fastest-growing private media company in the U.S. in 2017.

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