#guys what am i supposed to do..... waugh..

[buwheal]

me when i dont plan accordingly GRGHHRGH NHGHGHNHMGNHFGFGDFGFGDTSDFDFVSSDS

[threestripeslider]

So i read ch 11 and it's one of the best chapters yet!

The way Leo spoiled so much for Leonardo made me laugh and remind me how my mom used to do it to get my attention on the soap opera show xD that was such a mood moment xD

I loved how Leonardo offered or more like " asked " leo if he can watch the rerun with him, and how there's a hopeful chance of saying yes.

The kids wanting to watch Game X reminded me of that one OMO art you did where almost everyone are on the couch watching TV as Leonardo and leo carrying about the show! Lol.

At movie night part when Splinter talked about white people saying " it's white people thing " i LAUGHED thinking 'NO SPLINTER YOU DID NOT JUST SAID THAT!!😂'.

And NOW am about to pick a fight with him; WHAT'S WRONG WITH REGULAR PLAIN CORNFLAKES?!?!

Knowing they're heading to hidden city made me remember that one piece of art you made about them about to fight big mama but then F!Leo come in saying " hey mom! ", will it happen?!?!🤩✨

Honestly when the kids left to the market and F!Leo said he's going to dojo i was sad i thought he would've follow them. But i nearly stimmed from excitement when splinter said this I’m not going to save you from the dramatics when they catch you!”

HE KNOWS F!LEO'S GOING AFTER THEM!!! 🤩🤩🤩

AND THE END GAVE ME THE CHILLS!! BIG MAMA KNOWS ABOUT HIM?!?!

i love how i left you all little morsels like breadcrumbs but you somehow ended up face-first in my snack drawer like HELLO?? PLEASE LEAVE SOME FOR THE REST AJHSBJJBDH

also i debated about keeping the Splinter part or not, bc that is literally what i say too on the regular when it comes to horror LMFAO again; i'm filo and in pinoy culture you just dont fuck with spirits and such, asian ghost stories and folklore are fucking TERRIFYING at times, so yeah, i'll just wave goodbye to my white friends if they wanna fuck with an oujia board, im out of there, i am NOT about to end up missing under mysterious circumstances.

i love how some of u were so excited that Leonardo let his paranoia talk him into following the kids JHBBHDJBHF like you all looked at the guy and went "he is So Unwell, i need to watch him get himself into Situations"

and well...i suppose it was time drop another Big Mama hint HEHEHE

waugh! this ask made me giggle so much, i'm glad you enjoyed the chapter so much! THANK YOU!!

[rindomness]

rin i am so deeply unwell about cecil palmer.

his mother didn't talk to him except to prophesise his death or remind him he doesn't exist.

his dad made him climb into a tree and get eaten by the smiling god??

he doesn't remember his childhood.

he used to go back to his abandoned childhood home and sleep on the sofa. it's probably demolished now.

he can't go to the grocery store anymore because he's afraid of auctions. and for good reason !!

he was raised by his sister and she always resented him for it.

he describes his family history as a ghost story. his childhood was a ghost story. his life is a ghost story.

he keeps having to watch other versions of himself die.

he didn't choose to be the voice of night vale, it was chosen for him whether he liked it or not. he probably can't quit or resign, he'll probably be the voice until he dies.

leonard burton died in his arms. his interns keep dying or leaving or growing older than him and moving on with their lives while he stays where he is.

his main coping mechanism is Denial and drinking to forget

he dies in a tree every year???? interesting lifestyle choice

terrible things keep happening and he can't do anything about it except narrate !!

also a mirror is gonna kill him. how is he supposed to deal with that. can he not go to walmart?? cause they sell mirrors at walmart !! does he have to call the store before coming in like "hiiii can u pls cover your mirrors or put them away". does carlos do most of the shopping just in case? then what did he do before carlos? does he have mirrors on his car? do his friends cover their mirrors when they know he's coming over? do all reflective surfaces make him nervous? what is it like knowing that such an everyday item can kill you? does he wake up every morning and wonder if today is the day?

SORRY FOR THIS you just reminded me of 171 and that episode makes me feral

DUDE ME TOO WE CAN BE UNWELL ABOUT THIS WEIRD GUY TOGETHER

the tree thing makes me unhinged like WHAT is going ON with that. if it is the smiling god that brings up even more questions. mostly questions about the smiling god honestly!

his entire family is a wreck i really do hope that part of him and Abby talking again was them, like. talking about that a little bit because could you IMAGINE being in that position. like. what do you even do about that

him in 171 being like did your mother tell you she was an oracle before she left like WAUGH. we know that his position as the Voice was prophesied his mom was an oracle was she the one who told him? if so was that the only interaction they had that wasn't her telling him he was going to die/didn't exist or fucking hiding from him? considering his Entire familial situation it's a wonder he's as functional as he is.

the mirrors i want to scream about the mirrors ok . ok. like. YEAH does it apply to every reflective surface or just mirrors? going grocery shopping at all has to be a nightmare yeah no kidding. you know those mirrors sometimes in the drink aisle? how the fuck do you deal with that? do you just shut your eyes? do you just avoid it entirely? I know carlos doesnt do all their shopping bc cecil keeps reading off requests for him to pick stuff up from the store in texts so like How did he deal with that. do night vale stores just not have mirrors?

driving must be a nightmare too you're right i didn't even think about that before holy shit. Can he drive? How? You need to use your mirrors while you're driving. does he walk everywhere? does he have like a bike? a scooter even? i think he can drive bc of first date but like that must be So stressful. I'm just. so. so mentally ill about the mirrors. he was so fucking stressed out by eunomia's visor it made me stressed out how do you lead a functioning life that way

in conclusion thank you and i wanna chew electrical wires about this man

[starpros-sunshine]

Did you know they invented love? Did you?

[dutifullybabysong]

Three Wounded In St Andrews Residence Invasion

Content

Teen Girls Charged Over Melbourne House Invasions, Armed Robberies

Seven Individuals Detained After Claimed Stabbing In Melbourne Residence Invasion

Female Intimidated With A Blade In Distressing Hampton Home Intrusion

$11 Just How Do You Protect Your House Versus Theft? *

A girl has outlined the terrifying minute she was challenged by 2 masked bandits while she was residence alone in Perth's south-east. A guy has actually been billed over a supposed home intrusion on the NSW Central Shore that left one more man dead.

At approximately 5.10 am, investigators have actually been informed three offenders acquired entry to an Edith Road, Tarneit house, assaulting the passengers and swiping numerous products.

Queenslanders were likewise more worried regarding house theft than any kind of other state or territory.

The property stolen can be anything as long as it is a physical entity.

They terminated a shot right into the Brazil Road residence after assaulting one of the two homeowners as well as stealing an item prior to leaving in a silver sedan, Det Insp Shadlow said.

Three hrs later on, right before 5am, it is believed the very same wrongdoers tried to steal an additional car from a Garig Method, Tarneit address, yet were not successful. In her sufferer effect declaration, his mom Elaine Waugh stated, "I will miss him daily for the rest of my life. The supposed home intruders tipped over his body when they apparently robbed your house. Chloe Krakouer said she was driving previous with her mommy concerning 8.50 am when she saw a woman lying on the driveway bound as well as gagged.

Teen Girls Billed Over Melbourne House Invasions, Armed Robberies

Whether it's door-to-door salesmen, cleansers, or various other unknown persons, don't allow unfamiliar people a peek inside your home. Criminals can rapidly discover the format of your residential property as well as catch sight of possible ownerships to steal. Australians appear quite open up to the concept of having a security system installed to reduce their insurance policy costs. In particular, individuals aged in between 25 as well as 44 were very in favour, with over 80% choosing to enhance their security in exchange for cheaper premiums. On the other hand, less than 64% of Australians aged over http://edition.cnn.com/search/?text=burglary 65 would certainly add security systems to their property for insurance functions. Information on reported crimes reveals that in recent times, cases of unlawful locksmith eastern suburbs entrance right into private residences have actually decreased dramatically.

Seven Individuals Apprehended After Alleged Stabbing In Melbourne Home Intrusion

The 'assistant' factor may be specifically relevant in the event that there's more than one residence intruder, and also these house intruders are acting jointly. So far, it may appear that Section 244 has a somewhat reduced limit to satisfy, in order to help with a solid residence intrusion protection under the area. It ought to be kept in mind, though, that the defence lugs both a subjective as well as unbiased component. In terms of the subjective component, a passenger might feel well within his/her civil liberties to seriously harm a housemate in action to a viewed hazard of harm from that housemate. At around 6.18 am, authorities observed the offenders in the allegedly stolen silver Mazda on Gateway Method in Hoppers Crossing. Likewise, following 6am, 3 culprits presumably required entry to a Cuttlefish Street residence in Tarneit, attacking the residents and also stealing various items.

In my circumstance that required communication, information and also a large amount of understanding, ... This situation evidences a variety of things, consisting of the value of experienced lawful depiction browsing via what is often a challenging legal procedure, especially involving very serious offending. There were a variety of various scenarios that can have played out in this issue, including diversion, probation as well as a real opportunity of a custodial sentence. It is therefore important to be knowledgeable about all options that are readily available in any type of offered issue as well as encourage the customer and take directions thoroughly to guarantee the most effective outcome.

Inspector Thomas said the youngsters's daddy, used in the building industry, was at job when the residence intrusion occurred. Earlier on Monday, Investigator Inspector Thomas claimed the mommy was taken to hospital with severe injuries.

Female Endangered With A Knife In Distressing Hampton House Invasion

The building stolen can be anything as long as it is a physical entity. An abstract point can not be the subject of larceny in New South Wales, however may be the subject of an additional offense. A 19-year-old Broadmeadows man and an 18-year-old Meadow Heights guy have actually both been billed with house invasion, theft and also attacks. Authorities are hunting two armed suspects complying with a violent home intrusion and also capturing in Adelaide's north.

House Insurance

Cops were contacted us to the residence for a well-being check at 8.55 am as well as found a 32-year-old lady bound and gagged in the driveway, with her two kids missing. 3 males and a woman were detained at a Mitcham address with aid from the Special Procedures Team.

1 Just How Do You Safeguard Your Home Versus Burglary? *

He was OC sprayed and also attempted to run, however was apprehended by another police unit. The woman was house alone when 2 men entered her house in Highett Road, Hampton at regarding 11.30 pm last evening. By offering your email you concur that your individual info will be handled based on our personal privacy plan. The claimed incidents include a firearms event and attack in Babylon Road, Clyde North as well as an affray at a Lyndhurst shopping center on 9 February. Southern City Crime Group detectives arrest a male in regard to offenses in the South East.

[anarchyirish]

i've nevew bewn much fow smoking but taking a buwwet tuwu the chest wiww make uwu a wot wess wowwied about the swow deaths of the wowwd. wong stowy showt: i took a job i shouwdn't have. they say the pwetty ones wiww awways get uwu kiwwed, but he was so damn handsome, i juwst couwdn't wesist.

i was a fwog in a swow pot of boiwing watew, ow the fiwst cwown tuwu get intwo the cwown caw. you down't know tuwu get out untiw iwt's too wate. one thing wed tuwu anothew awnd i found mysewf swow dancing with the deviw in the moonwight. except instead of weaving woom fow jesus, he weft woom fow a 357 magnum.

i won't bowe uwu with the detaiws. so i'ww cut wight tuwu the quick: a wot of peopwe died because of thiws man.

wiwwiam j...

dammit. Come own!" *cwink*

wiwwiam j. Bawnum a.k.a. The cowonew.

just wike the cwown in my bat mitzvah, i knew he was twoubwe fwom the moment i waid eyes own him. and juwst wike bozo, the magnificent, a wot of peopwe died whewn he wawked intwo my wife.

*echos of the bozo waughing*

i've bewn chasing him down evew since. We wewe wike two naked men wunning own the same tweadmiww. uncomfowtabwy cwose, but awways juwst a step behind. but no owne cawn wun fowevew.

*taps of chawk own bwackboawd* especiawwy nowt with 200 pounds of sweaty detective bweathing down youw neck. it hasn't bewn easy though. i cawn't count how many countwies i've cownewed him in. couwdn't teww uwu how many times i've had him in my big, stwong hands.

*detective gwunting own stuck dwawew*

evewy time i think i've got him fow good, he somehow manages tuwu swip away. but he's wunning out of howes tuwu hide in. i mean thawt witewawwy, metaphowicawwy, awnd euphemisticawwy. it doesn't mattew how cwafty uwu think uwu awe...

abe: mmm.. Mhm..*waughs*

if uwu've bewn own the wun fow yeaws awnd yeaws...

abe: awwight, pewfect!..Thanks.

eventuawwy......uwu'we gonna make a mistake.

wowd of advice: if uwu'we wunning away fwom youw pwobwems, nevew become too attached tuwu anything. famiwy, wovews,..

..bwiefcases own top of youw caw...

*thumps of bwiefcase*

some things awe best weft behind.

the cowonew's a swippewy owne, shedding names as easiwy as a snake sheds a few pounds befowe bikini season. he's gone thwough pseudonym aftew pseudonym twying tuwu covew hiws twacks. but he awways manages tuwu faww bawck intwo the same famiwiaw wowes...

dwinking, fighting,...

...fwiwting,...

...dancing.

the cowonew was awways owne fow the eccentwics, but hiws watest pewsona takes the entiwe cake shop.

wiwfowd.

'mothewwoving'.

wawfstache.

*gunshots*

get youw ass down hewe.

down't move, asshowe!

show me youw hands!

nowt wike thawt. Put 'em down!

*gunshot*

*gunshot*

*static as disco music distowts awnd dies out *

abe: get down own the gwound. Get down own the gwound wight now!

wiwfowd: wh-why'd the music stowp?

abe: uwu'we nowt getting away fwom me thiws time asshowe. I said get youw ass down own the gwound.

wiwfowd: duwu i know uwu, fwiend?

abe: i said get down on--! whawt?... How duwu uwu not--?

abe: stowp pwaying games. Get youw ass down own the gwound befowe i bwow uwu wight hewe, wight now! ...away.

wiwfowd: dave? daaaave! dave? dave! gweg. Steve? biww? dave! i knew i wecognized uwu. How awe uwu? how's the wife?

abe: i down't have a wife. Stowp stawwing! uwu'we undew awwest fow the muwdew of way too many peopwe tuwu even count!

wiwfowd: weww, thawt's juwst widicuwous! i wouwd nevew kiww anybody.

abe: oh, iws thawt wight? weww, whatevew uwu say, buddy.

*ewectwic chawge fwom tasew gun*

wiwfowd: ahhoahoohaaa...

abe: uwu wan a weaw good wace thewe, buddy.

abe: but iwt's the end of the woad fow uwu.

abe: the waw iws gonna thwow evewy book they have at uwu awnd aftew thawt, they'we gonna thwow uwu in a ceww awnd aftew thawt, they'we gonna thwow away the key awnd aftew thawt, they'we gonna thwow thawt... ceww... intwo a wake.

abe, (innew monawogue): "but nowt befowe i thwow a few things at him fiwst. we'we gonna pway pin the taiw own the donkey. but he's the donkey, awnd the taiw, iws my feewings. but i shouwdn't get ahead of mysewf. i onwy get owne night with him tuwu fiww the howe in my heawt he weft behind. it's finawwy time tuwu get sowme answews."

wiwfowd (in abe's head): "did we date at sowme point?"

abe: "no! we didn't date. The howe iws a metaphow fow whewn uwu shot me in the --"

wiwfowd: caw...

*abe scweams as a caw hown sounds, tiwes squeawing*

abe (in thoughts): "howy shit thawt was cwose!"

wiwfowd: "we couwd have taken thewm."

abe: "what the heww does thawt have tuwu duwu with-?"

abe: how did uwu...? how awe uwu --?!

(abe, in hiws thoughts): "how many fingews am i howding up?"

wiwfowd: fouw..?

abe: "aawdvawk! pumpewnickew!"

wiwfowd: whawt awe uwu doing?

abe: "cawabasas!"

wiwfowd: "awe uwu oookaaaayy?"

abe: how awe uwu in my head?!

wiwfowd: why awe uwu shouting?!

abe: "get out of my head!"

wiwfowd: "you'we stiww shouting!"

*both scweaming* aaaahhhh

*ewectwic chawge of tasew gun ovew theiw yewwing*

wiwfowd: hnaaaaohh aaaahh ooooah ooahf nha-ah.. Ooah.. aah?

abe: enough games! youw ass, iws mine fow the next 24 houws.

abe: awnd i'm gonna take my sweet time......with thawt ass.

abe: tuwu get, answews out of iwt... fwom uwu.

wiwfowd: w-weww, i- i suppose i couwd stay hewe a whiwe, get comfowtabwe...*sigh* wovewy pwace uwu've got hewe! couwd use a bit mowe cowow...

abe: enough!! with youw buwwshit! duwu uwu have any wemowse? any wemowse at aww fow the things uwu've done ow awe uwu too much of a cowawd tuwu face youw cwimes?

wiwfowd: weww, thewe's no need fow name-cawwing! wowds cawn huwt uwu know, uwu shouwd be kind awnd couwteous!

abe: name-cawwing, huh? *chuckwe* awnd, uh, whawt nawme, wouwd uwu pwefew, huh?

*cwank* *cwank*bu-ftf*tssff* *cwank*cwonk*

abe: iws iwt... wiwwiam j. Buttewfiewd?

wiwfowd (chuckwing): weww- weww now, thawt's a nawme i- oowww

abe: wiwson jackson bawthowomew the iii?

wiwfowd: weww now i actuawwy mawwied intwo thaaa-at.. nawme...

abe: wingweheimew! (softew) wait, juwst... Wingweheimew?

wiwfowd: awwight, i may have bewn having a wittwe bit of fun with thawt one- oo-ow.

abe: nawme, aftew nawme, aftew nawme aftew nawme! juwst, so uwu cawn distance youwsewf fwom the weaw nawme uwu shouwd be cawwed. (softwy) muwdewew.

wiwfowd: (softwy) abe? abe! abe, iwt's bewn yeaws! how awe uwu? how awe uwu doing? how's the famiwy?

abe: oh, i'm doing juwst peachy, buddy! 'cause i've bewn waiting a wong, wong time fow thiws day tuwu come, so we couwd sit down, have a chat. catch up; good awnd pwopew.

wiwfowd: wow... thewe we aww awe!

abe: how the heww did uwu duwu thawt?!

wiwfowd: we wook so young!

abe: uwu bettew get youw ass bawck in thawt chaiw! awso, how did uwu get youw ass out of thawt chaiw? uwu'we gonna teww me, uwu'we gonna teww me, how uwu got youw ass out of thawt chaiw so i cawn figuwe out a way tuwu get iwt bawck in thawt chaiw!

wiwfowd: oh thewe's cewine... my heawt stiww beats fow hew tuwu thiws day! but if she- saw me she'd pwobabwy cawve mine out! *waughs*

abe: whawt?

wiwfowd: (softwy) how did uwu find aww thiws?

abe: i've-i've-i've... I've awways had thewm! i've bewn cowwecting thewm. evewy singwe scwap of evidence thiws whowe time so thawt owne day,

*cocks gun*

i cawn bwing uwu down.

wiwfowd: (softwy) thawt's so sweet.

abe: iwt's nowt sweet, thawt's sickening!

wiwfowd: sickeningwy sweeeet!

abe: thawt's nowt whawt i meant!

wiwfowd: wook i am tewwibwy, tewwibwy, sowwy thawt i didn't wemembew uwu. memowies stawt tuwu get jumbwed aftew a whiwe. (softwy) sometimes i, fowget even the simpwest of things...

abe: oh, twust me. Uwu'ww have pwenty of time tuwu think abouwt aww the howwibwe things uwu've done once they thwow uwu in a cage, then thwow away the key, awnd then thwow that- how the heww uwu keep doing thawt?!

wiwfowd: things get jumbwed so easiwy! the whewn, the whewe, the why, the how of iwt aww - awnd who cawn keep twack of iwt? i wondew whawt he's up tuwu, have uwu seen him? (softwy)...maybe i shouwd stowp by.

abe: uwu sewiouswy need tuwu get bawck in the chaiw. i- i- i- i- i've got mowe wope. Maybe thawt'ww wowk.

wiwfowd: eh, wowth a shot. oh! the twain! oh, i wemembew the twain! how wong wewe we stuck in the snow fow?

abe: whawt?

wiwfowd: oh, uwu down't wemembew? ah, thawt's okay. Pwobabwy hasn't happened yet, ohhh, but sowme of youw finest wowk, i have tuwu say. a wittwe spoiwew awewt fow watew tuwu make iwt easiew own uwu. (whispewing) we aww did iwt. *chuckwes*

abe: i down't undewst-aa --!

*gunshot*

wiwfowd: shush, shush, shush, shush, shush.*kisses the bawwew* nowt now. the gwown-ups awe tawking. save thawt fow watew.

abe: (quietwy) whawt the heww's going own?

wiwfowd: huh? i down't weawwy know. Honestwy, i- i- i down't undewstand anything anymowe... but i duwu wemembew uwu. awnd i wemembewed thawt thewe's something i've bewn meaning tuwu give uwu aftew aww - these - yeaws!

*suspense music buiwds up*

i'm sowwy.

abe: get off o- mmm...eee..

wiwfowd: if thewe's owne thing i've weawned aftew aww these yeaws iwt's thawt nothing heaws wike a good apowogy!

abe: i down't... undewstand anything anymowe...

wiwfowd: exactwy! none of thiws makes any sense! thawt's the beauty of iwt!

abe: beauty...? whawt abouwt any of thiws, iws beautifuw tuwu uwu?! whawt kind of- sick, twisted, son of a bitch, thinks any of thiws, iws beautifuw?!

wiwfowd: now whawt did we say abouwt name-cawwing?

abe: yooouu kiwwed peopwe! so many peopwe! (vewge of teaws) uwu kiwwed my fwiends! uwu kiwwed my pawtnew! uwu shot... Me!

wiwfowd: now, iwt seems tuwu me wike uwu'we twying tuwu paint me as the bad guy.

abe: (scweaming) uwu awe the bad guy!!!

wiwfowd: (cawmwy) okay, whoa! hey, whoa, time out. Time out. Time out. shhh... Uh, woah, hey! hoo-hah hee-hey. Time out! i get iwt, uwu've bewn hunting me... fow yeaws, awnd yeaws, awnd yeaws. Uwu've bewn chasing me, aww awound the wowwd. uh... fwom bedwooms, tuwu bathwooms, tuwu bawwwooms. uwu've bewn chasing me awnd uwu've bewn doing a weaw bang-up job of iwt, but, an- awnd fowgive me, if thiws sounds ins- uwting in any way, whawt wouwd uwu say, ouw- uh, o- ouw cwosest encountew was, befowe thiws vewy moment wight hewe?

abe: whewn was ouw cwosest encountew?

wiwfowd: yuh-yeah.

abe: befowe thiws vewy moment?

wiwfowd: yes.

abe: thawt's easy. iwt was whewn we...

*abe fawtews*

whewn... we, uh... uwu... ye-yeah ah, iwt was whewn uwu, um... thawt's whewn uwu, um... *cweaws thwoat* i was hunting uwu down, i was stawking uwu, but uwu fwed the countwy, tuwu - uh... um... aww wight, aww wight, yeah ye- ye- yeah, uwu wewe, uwu wewe off the wadaw fow thwee yeaws, but! i got a hot tip thawt uwu had shacked up in... uh... in, um - ah... uwu shacked up with... in, uh... uh... with the...

wiwfowd: thwee yeaws... uh, whawt yeaw was thawt, exactwy?

abe: whawt, whawt yeaw?

wiwfowd (softwy): yes.

abe: weww, u-uh, iwt was in, uh, i- iwt was in, um...

*abe fawtews again*

iwt... was uh... iwt was - um... (softwy) i... i cawn't we-membew... i... i've - uh...

*sighs*

i've obsessed ovew thiws case fow - uh, yeaws... evewy, moment of evewy day.... spent twying tuwu hunt uwu down... so why cawn't i wemembew? am i cwazy?

wiwfowd: no! no-no. No, no, no, no! my fwiend, uwu awe nowt, cwazy. down't wet anyone, evew, teww uwu thawt uwu'we, cwazy. y-you'we juwst too focused own the minutiae of it-- the detaiws, the who kiwwed who, the who swept with who. it- uwu'we nowt focusing own the big pictuwe.

abe: iwt's impossibwe, tuwu know things thawt haven't happened yet.

wiwfowd: yes, exactwy! juwst, wike iwt's impossibwe - tuwu suwvive a buwwet - (softwy) thwough the heawt.

*faint echoing gunshot*

*piano song fwom the finaw scene of who kiwwed mawkipwiew stawts pwaying*

abe, (innew monawogue): "this was aww a nightmawe thawt i couwdn't wake up fwom. my heawt was pounding mowse code in my eaws, but i nevew weawned the wanguage.  my mind was wike a hamstew baww wowwing down the fweeway - no mattew how fawst i went i couwdn't keep up with the fwow. it was my fiwst yeaw of cwown cowwege aww ovew again awnd i--.."

wiwfowd: no, no, nope, nope, nope, no... no. no dwifting off juwst yet. wisten, fwiend. iwt was a bit of a shock fow me, too. wife needed a bit of madness, but... (softwy) why shouwd death be any diffewent? but i think the stwess, iws getting tuwu uwu a wittwe bit. Uwu need tuwu unwind. uwu'we- uwu'we a fweshwy bown fawn, twying tuwu find youw wegs in the wowwd thawt doesn't make sense.

so, juwst fow tonight... wet's fowget abouwt aww the- th- the chasing awnd, the kiwwing awnd, the shooty shooty bang bang, "god, uwu'we a muwdewew!"

*chuckwes*

awnd juwst fow tonight...(wight static) why down't we... have a wittwe fun?

*piano continues pwaying*

*disco music pways *

*ding*

[lunaraindrop]

True Love’s Kiss and No More Roses Ever

Prompt from @justlikeregularchickens: 

I don't think we have nearly enough whump in this fandom, so I'd like to propose a "hella sick Q and a worried Eliot" if you're down for it!

I was inspired, so this is one of two answer fics!

This is the angstier of the two. I promise all will turn out well and lovely for our boys. 

Trigger Warning! There are mentions of blood and injury, but nothing worse than what we see on the show.

Season 1-2 AU Where Eliot doesn’t have to marry Fen but has to use a loophole to make her a queen to put a Fillorian on the throne instead of Alice.

Quentin stared at his bloodstained hand in shock. Blood dripped off his fingers at his brain tried to comprehend what he was looking at. He looked down at the wound on his abdomen where the thorn from the gigantic rose was still embedded. His bow furrowed even as he saw the crimson stain bloom and grow across his gray long-sleeved t-shirt. He wasn’t comprehending what he was seeing. It just, uhh, didn’t make sense? One minute he was excitedly tagging along with Benedict to see the famous Fillorian Flower Forest that had not been mapped since the reign of King Rupert…and the next? Stabbed by flora. Of course. Why not? Welcome to the shit show that is his life.

Right before it happened, Benedict stared up at the red rose in horror. “Oh no. These were supposed to have been eradicated years ago! Your majesty, we must return at once! King Eliot must know of the danger!”

Quentin had thought he had been minorly scraped by a passing branch. A nuisance, really instead of actual pain. He did not expect something that looked like the Basilisk fang in Harry Potter to be sticking out of his body. It didn’t even really hurt…

“Uh, ow?”

It appeared that the rose shot a thorn at him like some nature ninja.

He felt dizzy all of a sudden, even as he heard Benedict’s scared voice from miles away. Why was Benedict miles away? Wasn’t he just there telling them they had to go warn people?

“Your majesty?! King Quentin!  You’re bleeding!”

Quentin stumbled and landed on a large mushroom.

“Yeah, no shnit Sh’lock. Ha, Ben-dict, Sh’lock? Ha. That’d f’nny…”

Even as things became dimmer and more disconnected, he realized his speech was slurring. Slurring was not a good sign.

“Ben-dic…am I hav-ning a str-ah, you know, stroke? Am I hava-ing one?”

Benedict was back and so much closer than he expected him to be. His hands flew like panicked butterflies near the thorn.

“Do I leave it in?! Do I take it out?! I-I don’t know what to do, Your Majesty!”

Quentin knew from hours of Grey’s Anatomy his mom used to watch while during his visits with her that leaving the object in was the way to go.

He couldn’t tell that to Benedict, though. His mouth felt too soft to move. He had to watch helplessly as Benedict decisively nodded to himself and yanked the torn out of his side.

In an instant pain became his reality.

---

 Before that day, if some random had asked Eliot Waugh, High King of Fillory and the Physical Kids when he was the most afraid, he would make up some lie about a Manhattan bar being out of top-shelf vodka or something like that.

Before that day, if Margo was the one asking, he would tell her in stilted, hushed tones that he couldn’t choose. Every day living with his father in his teenage years was a nightmare. (But he would only disclose that bit of tragic backstory if he was shitfaced and partook of at least two illicit drugs.)

But nothing, nothing could compare to the heart-rendering terror he felt hearing a bloody Quentin’s painful whimpers and Benedict dragged his ragdoll body into the castle.

Eliot didn’t feel himself move. He didn’t make a conscious effort to do anything. He completely blanked on anything that wasn’t Quentin’s upturned face and the blood that should be in his body. Yet he found himself on the floor cradling the man in one of his arms as he pressed his very expensive embroidered shirt into the wound.

When Q’s beautiful tear-stained brown eyes finally caught his, his weak hand pressed into Eliot’s naked belly.

“El…help…Idunno…”

Something broke inside Eliot’s chest. Something fundamental that he never dared name when it came to Quentin Coldwater. Somewhere between rising panic and despair, a seething anger rose from the depths of his soul.

This is what turned Harvey Dent into Two Face. From good guy to scary fucking supervillain. You don’t mess with the people they love.

“WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED TO HIM?!”

A hush settled over the occupants of the room.

Apparently, Margo was the only one with the ovaries to talk. And send Tick to get the Centaurs. And actually, keep a level head. He really needed to than her.

“Yeah, what he said! Are we under attack?! Was it assassins?!”

Benedict finally spoke.

“It was the Cupid’s Bow Roses, Your Majesty! They’re back!”

Fen and some servants gasped in horror.

Margo put her hand on her hip.

“A rose tried to shish kebab Quentin?!”

Fen was filling her in on whatever the fuck it was that did this to Q. He didn’t pay attention. While everyone else was talking, Q would mumble some words in between weakly crying out in pain.

“A-a-ah, uh, a th-thorn, El. Ro-ses a-are, hah, danger…ous. Fuc-k roses! Soooo not romantic…”

Eliot, feeling tears slip down his cheeks, tried to give Quentin some type of comfort.

“Yes, fuck roses. I’ll have every rose burned in the kingdom so you won’t have to look at them again. Would you like that, Q?”

Quentin didn’t answer. He passed out.

“No. No no no no no, you can’t do this to me Q. You can’t. Please. Wake up. WAKE UP!”

At that moment two centaurs showed up and whisked him away.

Sitting bereft on the floor, hands covered in Quentin’s blood, he didn’t move until Margo and Fen pulled him into his rooms for a bath.

---

Clean and newly dressed, he met with his queens and the healers to talk about the health of his king.

“Well, Your Majesty, we do have some good news. The stopped the bleeding and healed the wound.”

Eliot sighed with relief…only to feel dread at the panicked faces of both Margo and Fen.

“Okay, so, what now? Isn’t he better?”

Margo grasped at Eliot’s elbow.

“Here’s the gist. The roses? They’re cursed. They were outlawed a long time ago, and everyone thought they were gone, but like herpes, they came back with a vengeance. So while Quentin’s healed…he’s not gonna wake up until we find his one true love to kiss him…”

Eliot blinked, then rubbed at his aching temples.

“True Love’s kiss? Are you fucking kidding me, Bambi?”

“Yeah, no. This straight out of some Disney shit.”

An idea struck.

“Maybe it doesn’t have to be romantic love? We can get his father…or or Julia to-“

Margo just sadly shook her head. Fen was the one who answered though.

“I’m sorry, Eliot. They’re called Cupid’s Bow Roses for a reason. They’re for bringing soul mates together.”

“But that could take years of scouring multiple plains and worlds! What if we never find her?!”

Tick humbly cleared his throat and stepped up.

“If I may, Your Majesty. It is in the nature of the flower to bring true lovers together. That means that he attracted the rose’s thorn because he was already in love with his soul mate, but probably not acting on it.”

Eliot nodded. “Right. We need to find Alice, then.”

Think had been strained between everyone since the threesome. Sure, tension and anger lessened with taking down The Beast and the three offenders becoming kings and queen of Fillory.  Alice might have gone back to Brakebills saying she forgave Quentin…but that had been months ago. They had not talked since. Who knew if Alice Quinn could be brought back to wake Q. Eliot needed to know what kind of timeline they had.

“Will he be okay like this until we find his true love?”

Again, things did not bode well.

“I’m sorry, but King Quentin has until the stroke of midnight. If he isn’t kissed by his soul mate, he will die.”

It had been a long time since he accidentally used his magic, so when the pitcher and all of the water goblets broke simultaneously, everyone’s loud exclamations were understandable.

Everyone left the room. Margo promised to go off-world to find Alice, while Fen said she would get Quentin a change of clothes.

Right. His clothes were ruined.

Here Eliot was clean and dressed, while Q…

If it wasn’t for the smears of blood and torn cloth, Quentin could be sleeping normally.

The centaurs had done nothing to make him look a little more presentable, and Eliot just fucking wouldn’t have it.

Taking the water from the broken pitcher and a soft cloth, Eliot gently sponge bathed him. He paid attention to wipe every trace of dried blood from his skin and made sure to gently clean under his fingernails.

Fen came in the middle of his task, laying what he assumed to be Quentin’s clothes at the foot of the bed (he didn’t even look). She watched him as he combed his fingers through his adorable floppy hair, willing himself not to cry.

“Eliot…kiss him.”

That certainly stopped any tears from falling.

“What?”

Fen said it again.

“Eliot, I’ve seen the way the two of you look at each other. Many have whispered rumors of the two of you being lovers.”

“That’s preposterous. We’re best friends. Men can be close.”

“Yes, men certainly can. But…friends don’t look longingly after the other when they go to separate bedrooms at night.”

Damnit. Fen had caught him.

“I do not look longingly at him when he goes to bed.”

Fen leveled him a look.

“I wasn’t talking about you.” She said as she flipped her hand towards Quentin’s prone form.

“It’s just me here. What harm could it do to try?”

But that was the harm, wasn’t it? Having full proof that Quentin could never love Eliot like he…felt…for him. If he tried…if he kissed him…and it didn’t work?

It would break him.

He would try to act cool and never speak of it again, but he would live in constant heartache. Sure, lots of sex and booze might dull the pain, but watching Quentin love somebody else after he tried and was proven to not be the one? Yeah…not good.

Fen seemed to actually read his thoughts. (Not literally, of course. They don’t need more than one psychic in their friend group.)

“Don’t you want to do everything to save him?”

How dare she!

He felt himself tremble as he ran one lone fingertip down his sweet nose.

“Of course. I will burn this world to the ground if I have to.”

Shaking just a little more, his thumb smooth over Quentin’s slightly chapped lips. (When, not if, when he woke up, he was going to hound him with cups of water and fruit juice to make sure he stayed hydrated.)

“Then kiss him. Rule yourself out. I’ll even step outside and not peek. Promise!” She didn’t even wait for him to say anything. She just left the room with a quiet click of the door.

Now it was just the two of them.

Feeling awkward and really needing some cuddle comfort, Eliot slid under the covers and held Quentin close. He pet his arm in slow swoops and breathed in the scent of his hair. Like many times before, he hugged the smaller man close, enveloping him in his arms like he belonged there. Unlike most times, though, Q wasn’t burying his nose into his neck squeezing back hard enough to pop Eliot’s back. It was just…perfect. Quentin just knew how to hug him to make him feel safe and wanted.

What would he do if his favorite nerd didn’t wake up? How could he live in a world that didn’t have his favorite fanboy babbling in his ear?

“Come back to me, sweetheart. Just…let it be me, and I’ll try so hard to make you happy. I promise. I’ll give you soo many orgasms. So, so many. It will be obscene. We’ll be obscene if you just let me wake you up. Okay?”

Eliot steeled himself. Cupping the back of his neck, he placed an achingly tender kiss on his lips.

In stories, it always took a moment of bated breath to see if True Love’s Kiss worked. Often times in movies there was a dramatic moment of dread like it didn’t work before the music picked up and the princess slowly woke

Yeah…Disney did not prepare him for being pushed immediately on his back and being ravished by a previously comatose babbling king.

“Oh God, El! Yes, yes, all of that! Jesus Christ, you’re a good kisser.”

Reluctant as he was, Eliot pushed Quentin far enough above him to look in him the eyes.

“Wait. What the hell just happened?”

Quentin awkwardly shrugged, but his eyes twinkled with merriment and were hot with seduction.

“Uh, nutshell? I could hear everything that was said, and you just saved me by being my fucking one true love, seriously what they hell, fanfiction didn’t lie?! Oh, and you were totally misguided in trying to bring my ex-girlfriend here to kiss me. I kinda figured out what I felt for you was sooo not platonic when I crowned you, oh Mr. Spectacular. I kinda want to blow you now. To, umm, thank my hero and prove how much I really really like that he decided to kiss me?”

Eliot tilted his head and laughed, before pulling Q down into a rather filthy kiss.

“Oh Q, baby, I am so into that idea. However,” he said as he ran his thumbs across the apples of Quentin’s elated cheeks, “I almost lost you today. If you are willing, I feel the need to worship your body and make you scream my name.”

Quentin’s mouth opened, but no sound came out. He didn’t need words, though, he strongly nodded his head and attacked Eliot’s mouth again.

A few hours later Margo contacted Fen through a magic mirror spell.

“Shit, I can’t find Alice anywhere. Dean Fogg said she was doing some work-study at the Library.”

Fen blushed and tipped he mirror closer to Quentin’s door. While Margo couldn’t see anything, she certainly heard something.

Margo smiled. “Son of a clit! That sounds awfully like our Q moaning that Eliot’s cock is a magical gift?”

“Mmm-hmm,” Fen said timidly.

“How long has Q been awake?”

“Oh, I’d say a few hours.”

“And how long have they been at it?”

“Just a little less than that.”

“I don’t think I should be this happy that my best friends are boning….but…huh…True Love, huh?”

The Cupid’s Bow Roses were very carefully removed from the Fillorian Flower Forest, as well as any normal roses removed from the castle grounds.

On their fiftieth anniversary, Quentin gift Eliot with a bouquet of red tulips and Peruvian lilies.

[imagineaworlds]

01 //Brakebills

summary: Olivia Grace is a motherfucking Magician. Yeah, she’s British. Yeah, she’s got a LOT of secrets-- but doesn’t everyone? And she’s totally fucked up.

pairing: margo hanson x female!oc

word count: 2,446

warnings (for entire series): cursing. drug and alcohol use. drug and alcohol abuse. sex.

(1) - (2) - (3) - (4)

Grace couldn’t tell you where she was even if she wanted to. She stood in a tree line, bushes scratching at her bare knees through the ripped skinny jeans, and leaves fell from the trees above her. The warm weather gave her the odd reaction of sweat, something she had never experienced in either England nor New York.

It was a school that much she knew. From the students smoking weed on the lawn to jocks playing soccer on the field in front of her, it was a college campus, but one she was not familiar with. She was discerned by someone across the lawn, a boy sprawled across a stone slab with the words “Brakebills” and “University” engraved on it. Grace stepped out from the woods and neared the sideline of the soccer field. Everyone stopped what they were doing. Nerds looked up from their textbooks, junkies stopped smoking and instead let their buds waste while they stared at her, and the soccer players stopped passing the ball and yelling at one another. It was an uncomfortable, almost a fictional quiet, one you only see in the movies. Grace wasn’t the pretty prom queen or the psychotic manic on the loose like in such movies. She was just Grace, a simple girl from Manchester, and a loner like all the cliches you see and read about.

Grace saw some of the boys on the field whispering about her to their fellow teammates, while others waited for someone to move or say something. “Who are you?” the boy who trapped the soccer ball with his feet, had asked.

Grace took a second to respond, “Olivia Grace. Who…” Grace struggled to find words. She was lost and confused, alone and surrounded by strangers. She only assumed that acting calm was better than spewing questions left and right. “Where am I?”

The boy, who had been sunbathing on the Brakebills University sign, sped to the soccer field and pushed past some of the players, sporadically checking them out as he did so. When he stood precisely before Grace, he spoke. “Mm… Fresh meat. Well, sorry to break it to you, hun, but you’re two months late for the Entry Exam.”

“En— Entry Exam?” she questioned.

The boy sighed and rolled his eyes, “My name’s Eliot, but I can assume that you will not remember that by this time tomorrow, so…” Eliot was a tall, slim boy in his early twenties. His hair had black curls that bounced with each step he took and fell in his face, deliberately covering his eyes until he moved it. His eyes were a light brown, borderline hazel color. Eliot was a preppy guy, but the cigarette in his hand ruined the illusion, and the flask in his belt never helped either. He smoked repeatedly, as if addicted, and occasionally drank whatever concoction he had created earlier that morning. He wasn’t a poster student, but he wasn’t a lonely druggie like Grace was. Despite the addictions, he was still a bubbly type, perfect for greetings and first impressions.

Then abruptly, out of thin air, a tall man appeared. He was well dressed with a black suit, white shirt, and black tie. Fashioning dark circles around his eyes as though he were wearing glasses or goggles for a long period. No hair, and as he adjusted his tie, Grace lastly noted that his hands had burn scars on them. “Ah, Ms. Grace,” the man smiled. “My name is Henry Fogg, but you can address me as Dean. I run this establishment of education for magic. If you would please follow me and Eliot.”

Eliot looked surprised, “You want me to come as well?” he laughed, “I have classes.”

“Mr. Waugh, the last time you attended class was the first class of the year. I’m sure you won’t be missed,” Dean Fogg told him calmly, “Ms. Grace,” he swung his arm out to the side and moved his body, inviting her to walk. She struggled to keep up with the Dean and Eliot because they knew the area better than she did, and she was too afraid to leave them in a place she didn’t know.

“Where am I?” Grace asked.

“Up state New York,” Eliot responded.

“Up state New York? And the weather looks like this?” Grace looked up at the sky and admired the clear air and bright blue atmosphere. The clouds were big, white, and fluffy. On the ground, the trees were a vibrant green and the grass was neatly cut evenly. The sun beat down on them, lightly burning Grace through her black clothes.

Eliot sighed, but continued to walk. “What’s your name?”

“Olivia. But I hate that name.”

“So what do you prefer?” Dean Fogg questioned.

“Grace.”

It began a few days ago with her brother. They were out for lunch and coffee at the Yonder Wander Coffee Shop,  just as every Wednesday at 11 o’clock. He stood to buy her another cup, but then everyone and everything froze. The image burned into her brain, it was something no one could forget. A man and his husband were arguing profusely, and she could remember their acrimonious tones. One lady, who was drinking a cup of coffee alone, had her cup too close to the edge of the table that it was about to fall down on the floor, which would spill everywhere. However, that cup, too, was frozen. Much to Grace’s surprise, she could stand and walk about, different from the rest of the shop. She walked to her brother and popped out to scare him so he moved. But instead he continued to stand like a statue, frozen in time. It was after she waved her hand and snapped her fingers in front of his face when everything went back to normal. There was a loud scream on the other side of the room from the lady who had knocked her drink when she finally noticed it once it spilled all over the floor and herself. The husbands who argued, paused to looked at the woman, and then looked over at Grace to see she had magically teleported.

“Woah.” Liam, Grace’s brother, stumbled back. “How’d you do that?” he asked.

“How did I do what exactly?” she became distracted by figuring out what had just happened. “I’ve been standing here the entire time.” Liam scanned his sister, seeing right through her lies. “What?” she widened her eyes and flailed her arms around, “Am I some kind of stranger to you?”

“Are you high again?” Liam questioned, before realizing he didn’t actually want an answer. “Never mind.”

After that, everything kept freezing when she waved her hand for a taxi, waved up at the camera to her apartment hoping her landlord would let her in, because she forgot her key at lunch. It was like a switch turning on and off, and she was the one flipping it up and down.

Grace looked between Dean Fogg and Eliot, confused. She didn’t know if she should laugh or call the cops. The two men showed her to a giant building that lead into a ballroom, which was temporarily being used for an exam room. Dean Fogg showed her to a front table and pulled the chair out for her. She watched as he moved to the front of the room and took a seat, and then she looked behind her to see that Eliot was lounging on a few chairs in the back of the room, his sunglasses on. She wondered what or who they were waiting for, but she continued to sit silently. After a long time, the dean was checking his watch impatiently.

“Well, I suppose you can start without him,” Dean Fogg spoke up, startling Grace after the lull of quiet. He moved his right hand gently across his arm and then quickly trapped his fingers in an oddly shaped triangle and then pulled his fingers together. A blue notebook and a #3 pencil appeared and both had engraved on them: Olivia Grace. She gripped the pencil and opened the notebook to the first page. It was calculus. Easy enough, Grace thought to herself.

Just as she was about to write answers, the door to the ballroom flung open and Grace caught a glimpse of a proud and beautiful girl standing there. She was smiling at the dean and then at Eliot. She wore a tight red shirt, a size too small; ripped black skinny jeans, and Doc Martens red velvet boots. Jewelry covered her neck and upper chest, just above her shirt collar. Bangle bracelets stacked up her lower arm, and one had a chain which led from her wrist to her index finger where there was a ring. Her straightened brown hair rested softly against her shoulders, parted directly even with her nose.

“Margo, if you would please show the boy to his seat next to Ms. Grace,” Dean Fogg’s voice echoed. Margo smiled more widely than before and pulled someone in by their jacket sleeve. A boy with blonde hair came stumbling in, struggling to catch his footing. He stood up and Grace immediately recognized him.

“Liam?” Grace inquired.

Liam ran to her as she stood, and soon after embraced her. “What are you doing here?” He was completely bewildered by the fact that she was there with him, and not that magic was real.

Their conversation was interjected by Dean Fogg clearing his throat, and the siblings looked at him. He gestured for them to take their seats, which they unwillingly did, and Grace could hear Margo whispering to Eliot, impressed that Grace and Liam were twins. Grace reopened her exam and completed it over two to three hours later; however, Liam finished it in less than an hour. Grace thought it might be all the drugs that were finally working, but she wondered why her imagination would make an entirely new world just for a hallucination. When they finished, Eliot led Grace from the exam room and down a hallway to a small office, while Margo took Liam somewhere unknown to her. A professor with strawberry blonde hair, bright red lipstick, and a tight black dress walked into the office, a file in one hand and Grace’s exam in another.

“Well, Olivia—” the professor began.

“Grace,” she interrupted in a rude fashion. “I go by Grace.”

“Well, Grace… My name is Professor Sunderland. And your exam is most impressive, truly. I'm sure Dean Fogg wishes he could be here, but he’s speaking with your brother,” she said as she took a seat behind the desk in front of Grace. “So tell me about yourself, Grace. When did you discover magic? Was it your parents who told you?” Sunderland interrogated.

“My parents?” Grace laughed, “No, my mum and stepdad had no clue what this is, I can assure you. And besides, they’re dead… so what does it matter?”

Sunderland raised an eyebrow and tilted her head. She quietly opened the file with Grace’s name on it, and slowly flipped through the pages, humming as she did so. Grace rolled her eyes then tapped her foot impatiently. The short professor had reached the end of the file and looked disappointed, so she started over, wasting time. Grace oddly enough did not recognize the toon she was humming, which made her wonder who this woman really was beneath the smile she was so clearly faking.

“Ah!” Sunderland cheered, “Found it. See?” she asked, turning the file to Grace. She pointed to a line and said, “Your parents were alumni here. They both attended Brakebills, long before my class, of course, but still. Your mother is well known on this campus.”

Grace laughed again, suddenly figuring that this woman was insane, “Sure.”

“I have a question for you, Olivia… Why do you think you just now appeared at Brakebills? The official entry exams were two months ago, so what makes you so different?”

Grace was silent. She wanted to respond, and she wanted the luxury of knowing that there was some kind of answer buried in her brain, but there was nothing. Her brain ran a blank, and she couldn't think of a single reason her parents never told her about Brakebills University, why Liam seemed so comfortable on campus, and why some strange professor was bombarding her with questions when they had only met a few minutes prior. But no matter the case, Sunderland sat quietly, waiting for any kind of response, but there was none. Grace just shrugged her shoulders and gave the small and gracious woman an attitude which she surely didn’t deserve.

“Please, try some magic. Any kind of magic.”

“I don’t know magic,” Grace retorted, her voice as sharp as knives. Well the drugs, which she thought were finally kicking in, were only just subsiding, making Grace easily agitated.

Sunderland sighed and stood. She walked around the desk and began circling the room. “Your insolence is what will get you in trouble here at Brakebills. We encourage cooperation, and not recklessness. Eliot is not a great example of that, I suppose, but we make do. Now, do some magic.” She stopped circling the room once she was behind Grace. “Come on, Olivia, do something.”

Grace’s blood boiled, “I don’t like being called Olivia…”

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t hear you. You know, mumbling is a bad thing, Olivia.”

“Stop it!” she demanded, throwing her hands on the desk and then turning around. Out of anger, she instinctively snapped her fingers in Professor Sunderland’s face, causing her to freeze. Grace was breathing heavily, ashamed that she had let that get out of hand. She quickly reached into her boot and grabbed some of the pills she snuck to lunch with her brother but forgot to take out. Frantically, and with a brief struggle, Grace got the bottle open, but the pills flew everywhere. Grabbing what she could, she popped two in her mouth and drank a cup of water that had been sitting on Professor Sunderland’s desk. She sighed, and squeezed her eyes shut, trying to recover from the situation that had made her legs weak and her head hurt. Grace felt like shit.

Disturbed, Grace looked to the door as it slowly opened and creaked like in a horror movie. She looked over at it, past the frozen Sunderland, and saw Dean Fogg standing there. He didn’t look frightened, horrified, confused, or disappointed; instead, he looked pleased. Did this mean that Grace was no longer eligible to study at the university? No. Of course not, right? Grace was nervous until the Dean spoke.

“Well, Grace, I am truly impressed. Welcome to Brakebills University.”

[terrifyingrenegadelibrary]

Volume 2, Chapter 9

Yes, it’s actually happening. Tune in next week for the conclusion.

What to Get for the Goddess Who Has Everything

Morgan: …You’re alive!

-she rushes Janice and hugs them. Janice seems profoundly confused-

Janice: Well, of course I’m alive.

Quinn: Are we about to get another flashback?

Janice: Obviously.

Flashback!

-back in town, shortly before the ritual went off…-

Morgan: Janice, run!

Janice: Huh? Wh—

-and the Fae whips around the corner-

Janice: Oh. Well.

-and it bats them aside so fast they vanish-

Janice: Waaaaaaaugh!

-they recover their senses midair, arcing down towards a very messy end-

Janice: …Oh dear.

-they take aim with their rifle, and fire, an explosion of War magic blowing them skywards again-

Janice: Waugh!

End Flashback!

Morgan: …Quinn, am I missing something, or did that not explain anything?

Quinn: Grammatically, I don’t think I know how to respond to that. …But that made no sense.

Janice: You know rocket jumping, right?

Morgan: Like, the video game thing?

Janice: Yeah, that’s what I did.

Morgan: The video game thing that is entirely not possible in real life?

Janice: Oh, please, you learned about serious magic like a year ago. What do you know about what is and isn’t possible?

Quinn: They’ve kind of got you there.

Morgan: …Okay, but that doesn’t actually do anything to explain how you survived the ritual designed to kill everyone in town.

Janice: Oh, yeah, that tulpa knocked me out of the city limits. I sort of figured that was obvious.

Morgan: (aside) You could have opened with that.

Quinn: (to Liz) You know, for a ritual that was supposed to kill everyone, it kind of didn’t.

Liz: Nobody’s perfect.

Quinn: I kind of feel like that was obvious when you nearly killed everybody.

Janice: Oh, hey Quinn, how’s it going?

-Quinn blinks-

Quinn: …You know me?

Janice: You were one of Nalis’s Magicians, right?

Quinn: One of his secret Magicians, yes.

Janice: Vorn had a list of you guys.

Quinn: …Did she?

Janice: Yeah, we were going to hunt the non-War Magicians for fun after we took over the town, and Vorn wanted to make sure we didn’t miss anyone.

-they beam at Morgan and Quinn, who seem slightly alarmed-

Morgan: …Uh, Liz, do we have to work with them?

Liz: I think they’re kidding. (to Janice) You’re kidding, right?

-Janice just smiles-

Liz: (firmly) …They’re kidding.

Morgan: (nervously) Okay.

Quinn: (equally nervously) Yeah.

Janice: So, how’s everything?

Morgan: Um. Kind of terrible?

Janice: Aside from that though?

Morgan: …Aside from every bad thing, how am I doing?

Janice: Yeah.

Morgan: …Fine, I guess?

Janice: Nice.

Quinn: Were you always this odd?

Janice: I’ve been wandering the entire world alone for weeks with only Liz for company. I think at this point I’m entitled to a little eccentricity.

-with that, they go over to a chair in the corner and flop into it. Quinn and Morgan turn to Liz-

Liz: Right, I guess it’s my turn to explain then?

Janice: Yep!

-they curl up in the chair for a nap-

Liz: See, once Zaresi killed Novju, I realized I was going to have to change tacks pretty quick. I’d figured Janice was alive, so I split myself for the first time and sent the other me to check on them.

Morgan: How’d that go?

Liz: Well.

-she thinks back-

Flashback!

-Janice is tinkering away in a shed, when there’s a knock on the door. They open the door to see Liz-

Janice: Liz. Hi.

Liz: May I come in?

Janice: I can’t really stop you, can I?

Liz: Good point.

-she brushes past Janice, and sits down on a workbench-

Liz: I’ve come with a proposition.

Janice: Yeah?

Liz: I assume you’d agree with me that Zaresi needs to be stopped, yes?

Janice: Sure.

Liz: I have a way it might be doable. But I need your—

-she is interrupted by Janice turning around and shooting her six times in the forehead with a handgun-

Liz: …Help. Janice, you have to be aware that that doesn’t do anything if there’s no magic behind it.

-Janice is already putting the handgun aside and picking up a hunting rifle-

Janice: Yep!

End Flashback!

Liz: They had some tensions to work out. They eventually agreed to assist me, however.

Morgan: With what?

Liz: Obviously, two plucky kids and a 100-year old Spirit aren’t enough to defeat Zaresi.

Morgan: Wait, really?

Quinn: (to Morgan) Are you serious?

Liz: So, I’ve been ferrying Janice around the world in various disguises in order to steal the magic that’s been stored in ancient world landmarks.

Quinn: Oh.

Morgan: Cool.

Liz: Yep.

-there’s a long, awkward silence-

Quinn: …Kind of sounded like you were going to tell a story there.

Liz: Nope.

-there’s another long silence-

Morgan: Okay, so we have all that magic now. Where are we keeping it?

Liz: Janice has it.

-Janice sleepily waves a knife from the corner-

Quinn: Oh, I get it. It’s like the narrative counterpart to Evan’s knife. One drains magic away, whereas the other is full of magic.

Morgan: Not everyone’s a theater kid like you, Quinn.

Liz: No, that was the idea behind it.

Morgan: Why are you all so dramatic?

Quinn: You fight with scythes.

Morgan: …Okay fine. So we have the magic, we give ourselves a boost, and we go kick Zaresi’s ass.

Liz: God no. We’d all die.

Morgan: Well then what is the plan?

-Liz shakes her head in amazement before continuing-

Liz: If you remember, when we fought Eneril, I disabled his rituals by causing the magic to spill out wildly.

Morgan: I get it! We’re going to stab Zaresi with the knife, then detonate it and blow her up!

Quinn: Obviously we’re not going to do that.

Liz: Um, yeah we are.

Quinn: …Oh.

Liz: There are two problems. Firstly, of course, we need to pressure Zaresi enough that she draws all of her selves here, so we can take them all out at once. That problem is solved by…well, I solved it. You’ll see.

Quinn: That’s really ominous.

Liz: I have to keep some secrets, right? It’ll be so awesome when you see it.

Morgan: …Okay.

Liz: The second problem is that getting the knife to Zaresi is, obviously, incredibly dangerous.

Morgan: I’ll do it.

Liz: I sort of figured.

Quinn: Wait, what?

Morgan: It’ll be fine.

Liz: Good enough for me.

Quinn: Not me! I—

-Liz cuts her off-

Liz: Let’s plan a war.

-cut to the three sitting at a table. Janice is lying on the bed, but observing with some interest. Snacks have been gathered, and Liz has obtained a notepad from somewhere-

Liz: Okay, the first and hopefully last war council of Team…Morgan, did you write “Team Not Zaresi” in here?

Morgan: It seemed accurate.

Liz: The first and hopefully last war council of Team Not Zaresi is called to order. Who knows what resources Zaresi has access to?

-silence. A cricket chirps-

Liz: The answer is me. I have all that information.

-she coughs-

Liz: Zaresi has two armies, one of Reapers and one of various undead. She has two Magicians of exceptional power, those being Evan and Laura.

-Quinn and Morgan wince-

Janice: Oh, they’re still alive?

Liz: Yes? Why wouldn’t they be?

-Janice shrugs-

Janice: I just sort of figured they’d done something stupid and gotten themselves killed by now. Good for them.

Morgan: Not really…

-Janice shrugs again-

Liz: And, of course, Zaresi herself shouldn’t be underestimated. So, here’s what we’re going to do…

-time passes, until it’s quite late. Quinn yawns-

Morgan: So much for not needing sleep.

Liz: Seriously, who told you that was true? We’re as prepared as we’re ever going to be. We might as well rest.

Quinn: Wait, so—

Liz: Good night, everybody! Big day tomorrow!

-cut to Morgan and Quinn curled up next to each other. In the background, Liz is asleep, Janice napping while sitting up-

Quinn: Can’t sleep?

Morgan: Not really. You?

Quinn: I’m not sure I really need to anymore.

Morgan: Oh.

Quinn: Yeah, it’s neat.

-there’s a pause-

Morgan: How are you doing?

Quinn: Come again?

Morgan: About stuff in general. You know how I’m doing—

Quinn: Hard not to.

-Morgan winces-

Morgan: But how are you holding up?

Quinn: Oh, I’m good. No need to worry.

-there’s a pause. Meanwhile, in the background, Janice has tipped over onto Liz, who hasn’t noticed-

Morgan: …Just because it’s been a stressful week doesn’t mean I can’t still tell when you’re lying.

Quinn: …You’re not wrong.

-Morgan wraps an arm around Quinn-

Morgan: What’s going on?

Quinn: Well, um…everyone’s dead. Like, aside from the people here, every single person I ever knew growing up is gone. And that’s kind of weird.

Morgan: Weird?

Quinn: I mean, it’s just…

-and she bursts into tears. Liz starts to wake up. Morgan hugs Quinn-

Morgan: Quinn, you can talk about it.

Quinn: What’s to talk about? Jacob’s dead. Allen’s dead. Holly’s dead. Your parents are dead. My parents are dead. I’m dead! I’m dead, Morgan, do you get how weird that is?

Morgan: I mean, I don’t think you’re actually dead—

Quinn: I feel like I am!

-Liz opens her eyes. She notices Janice on her, and makes a face, then looks over and notices Quinn and Morgan, and abruptly pretends to be asleep again as the two glance at her-

Quinn: I can’t feel my heart beating or my own breathing unless I really work at it, and any time I move too much I’m scared I’ll fall apart again! I don’t think I can do this, Morgan. Working for Nalis I really didn’t get into too many fights, and I just—

-she cuts off, Morgan still holding her. Liz tilts her head-

Morgan: Quinn, it’ll be okay. I won’t let you get hurt. If you even feel for one second like you’re going to come apart, just let me know and I’ve got some magic on tap for you.

-a little jolt flows between the two. Liz makes a wibbly face-

Quinn: Morgan, you don’t have to—

Morgan: It’s the least I can do.

-she smiles-

Morgan: We’re going to win this, Quinn. For everyone we couldn’t save, and for the people we still have to. It’ll be okay, and you’re going to be amazing.

Quinn: I don’t feel so amazing right now.

Morgan: I don’t either. But we have a plan, we have firepower, and we’re going to do this.

Quinn: You sound a whole lot more confident than you did yesterday.

Morgan: Things are starting to look up.

-she forces a smile. Quinn smiles back-

Morgan: And, Quinn?

Quinn: Huh?

Morgan: I’m sorry.

-Janice by now has woken up. They notice Liz, and the two begin to freak out, but silently. Liz claps a tendril over Janice’s mouth to ensure this-

Quinn: What?

Morgan: For everything. For not letting you in on what was going on before it was too late.

Quinn: Didn’t we go over this?

Morgan: That’s not what I mean, though.

Quinn: Huh?

Morgan: We used to share everything with each other. I didn’t, and look where it got us.

Quinn: I mean…I can’t really blame you. Formal magic isn’t exactly supposed to be common knowledge.

Morgan: We’re best friends. I should’ve figured something out.

Quinn: …Yeah, you should have. But you’re not the only one who had secrets.

-she waggles a hand, sparks coming off it-

Quinn: Working for Nalis for a year, remember?

Morgan: Okay, so maybe you’re a little culpable.

-Quinn sticks out her tongue-

Quinn: Can we get back to the part where you apologize?

Morgan: I’ve got a better idea.

-she holds out her hand-

Morgan: To no more secrets?

-Quinn smiles, and takes Morgan’s hand-

Quinn: No more secrets.

-the two share a giggle-

Quinn: So, um…in the spirit of full disclosure…

Morgan: Huh?

-and Quinn leans forward and kisses Morgan on the cheek-

-Morgan stares. In the background, Liz grins widely. Janice attempts to say something but is still muffled-

Quinn: …

-Morgan’s face starts to break into a grin-

Quinn: Anyway, you should get to bed. Big day tomorrow.

Morgan: Wait, but—

-Quinn grins-

Quinn: Get some sleep. Bet you a dollar you’ll need it.

Morgan: …Do I have to?

Quinn: Well, no.

Morgan: Cool.

-she leans in and gives Quinn a proper kiss. Liz beams-

-and then frowns as the two show no signs of stopping-

-and still none-

-eventually she just coughs. Quinn and Morgan spin around, Quinn flaring up and Morgan blushing a deep red-

Quinn: So, uh, good night everyone.

Morgan: (in a very high-pitched voice) Yep!

-cut to Morgan and Janice, who are fast asleep. Quinn is still awake, grinning maniacally-

Liz: I take it you’re still not feeling like sleep?

Quinn: Not really.

Liz: Fair enough.

-she curls up by Quinn, yawning-

Liz: Congratulations.

Quinn: Oh, hush.

Liz: No, really. Even a shot at happiness is more than a lot of folks get.

Quinn: I guess.

-there’s a long silence-

Quinn: So what about you?

Liz: What about me?

Quinn: Well, uh…you know. We’re about to go kill your best friend. How are you okay with that?

-Liz is silent for a long time-

Liz: …Zaresi and I were close when we were different people. I think I spent too long pretending we were still those people. She needs to be stopped, and if I’m the one with the power to do it, then that’s what I’ll do.

Quinn: …Are you sure?

Liz: I’m sure. Go to bed, Quinn.

-she smirks-

Liz: Big day tomorrow.

Quinn: …People shouldn’t have to fight the people they loved.

Liz: There are a lot of shoulds and shouldn’ts. Go to sleep.

-Quinn, finally, does. Liz stays awake for a long while before doing the same-

-cut to the Tower of London rooftop, where Zaresi is perched, surrounded by Reapers. Laura and Evan are sitting next to her, Laura looking tense and Evan looking deeply unconcerned-

Evan: Aww, you can’t tell me you’re not excited.

Laura: I’m not excited, Evan.

Evan: Just picture it.

-he wraps a hand around her shoulders and points up at the sky-

Evan: We’re going to get to kill Morgan! Come on, isn’t it every girl’s fantasy to murder her terrible ex?

Laura: It’s usually a hypothetical notion.

Evan: Right, and everything’s better when it’s actually real. Like magic and assassinations.

Laura: I don’t agree with your assessment.

Evan: I don’t agree with your assessment! Just admit it’ll be nice once we’ve wiped out the last traces of opposition!

Laura: The “opposition” used to be our friends.

Evan: And now they’re traitors! So we stab them!

Laura: I don’t stab people.

Evan: Oh, get off your high horse. Just because you haven’t offed any Magicians personally doesn’t mean you’re not a killer.

-Laura frowns-

Evan: What? That was a compliment.

Laura: You’ve gotten even more unbalanced.

-Evan grins-

Evan: You could always sit out. I’d be happy to deal with them on my own.

Laura: I don’t think so.

Evan: Spoilsport.

-he tugs at Zaresi’s cloak-

Evan: Lady Zaresi, Laura isn’t excited about killing the enemy.

-Laura shoots Evan an irritated glance-

Laura: Zaresi, Evan is altogether too excited about killing people we once worked with.

-Zaresi stares down at the two of them-

Zaresi: Enough of this.

Evan: Um?

Zaresi: I have no interest in listening to the two of you bicker. My lieutenant has turned traitor and broken her Contract. My power will be challenged. I do not care whether either of you is excited or not. I only care that you do your jobs.

-Evan flushes. Laura bows her head-

Evan: Of course!

Laura: …Right.

-the two leave, Evan skipping, Laura trudging-

Evan: Come on, this’ll be fun.

-they pass by a familiar Reaper-

Iggy: You know, Evan, I’m pretty excited about—

Evan: Oh shut up, Iggy. Nobody asked.

-cut again to a cell, where Dee and Andrew are sitting. A Reaper enters the cell, moves out of sight of anyone, and pulls down its hood to reveal Liz’s face-

Liz: Dee, you’re sure you’re not willing to make a Contract?

Dee: I told you, if you’re not willing to work with Knowledge magic, I can’t carry out my plan.

Liz: And I told you, I’m already going to be managing a solid three Domains. Four is powerful, sure, but unstable, and I’m not interested in disintegrating.

Dee: Then I’ll do my own thing.

Liz: Good luck with that.

Dee: Thanks!

Andrew: Uh, I don’t really have my own thing to do. Any chance of assistance?

Dee: What, you don’t want to help me with my thing?

Andrew: What thing are you even planning?

Liz: You haven’t told him?

Dee: I don’t like explaining things to people.

Liz: Okay then, Andrew. Do you want to work with me, the one who explains everything to you and has a clear, coherent plan? Or the one who refuses to tell anyone anything except for the barest hints of a plan that doesn’t even make sense?

Dee: You make me sound so disorganized.

Andrew: Dee, do you even really need my help?

Dee: I could use the moral support. And another Magician might be handy, I guess.

Andrew: …Well, Liz, Dee never beat me up.

Liz: I guess that’s fair. I should go before anyone notices I’m not really a Reaper. Good luck, you two.

Andrew: That’s so depressingly ominous.

Dee: Or is it ominously depressing?

Andrew: That too really.

Dee: It sounded better in my head.

Liz: (firmly) See you in the morning.

-and she dissipates into smoke-

Dee: So, which one of us gets the bed for the night?

-she gestures at a small wooden cot in the corner-

Andrew: I’m not sure I can sleep.

Dee: Works for me.

-cut back to the hotel room, the next day. Liz has drawn up a handful of sigils, which are glowing with magic-

Liz: Okay, death first.

Morgan: Good slogan.

Quinn: Not really.

Liz: Remember, as soon as I start, there’s no stopping. Zaresi will know where we are, exactly what’s going on, and is going to start gathering herself back up to kill us all. So.

-she sighs-

Liz: Morgan, Janice, do either of you need to use the bathroom?

Morgan: …No.

Janice: Uh…

Liz: Look, just go check.

-a few minutes later-

Janice: All good.

Liz: Is everyone reasonably fed?

Morgan: Yep.

Janice: Yep.

Morgan: I could maybe use some more coffee.

-Liz just stares at her-

Morgan: Okay, not the time.

Liz: Are there any last-minute questions?

-Janice raises a hand-

Liz: Yes?

Janice: What do we call a Spirit of Death, Love, and War? I’ve never seen one of those before.

Liz: Are you serious?

Janice: It’s a relevant question.

Quinn: How about just calling them Lizes?

Liz: In case the treaties are even remotely intact after this is all over, I’d rather this not be connected to me.

Janice: Freyas? Like the Norse god?

-Liz eyes Janice-

Janice: Well, like, she’s explicitly noted as a goddess of all of those things.

Morgan: Why is that information you have offhand?

Janice: Why not?

Liz: …I’ll pass on that.

Quinn: Ooh! Morrigan!

Morgan: Huh?

Quinn: Not Morgan, Morrigan! The crow goddess?

Morgan: Why do you two know all these goddesses?

-Quinn shrugs-

Quinn: It fits.

Morgan: …Seems like it might get complicated.

Quinn: Oh, fine. What ideas have you got?

Morgan: Seraph?

Liz: No, that’s what they call Spirits of Fire and Light.

Morgan: That would make more sense.

Liz: …We’ll workshop it. Anything else?

-Morgan, Quinn, and Janice all look between each other, and shrug-

Liz: Then let’s begin.

-she begins to chant, and magic whirls up around her. First, Death magic blossoms from her as her outfit shifts back to her usual Reaper garb-

-suddenly, Love magic joins the cloud. Her head suddenly vanishes-

Morgan: A Spirit of Love and Death is headless?

Quinn: They do say love is blind…

Janice: Ssh!

-and finally, War magic billows out. Liz’s head reappears, and as the ritual fades, she is wearing a black, pink, and red tailored suit-

Morgan: That is such a look.

Quinn: You sound so old when you say stuff like that. But also, yes. It is.

Janice: I am in awe.

-Liz grins-

Liz: Then let’s make some Contracts.

-cut back to Zaresi’s perch. She twitches slightly, and Evan and Laura look up-

Zaresi: I feel it. Liz made a Contract to become a Death goddess.

Evan: Oh, good, so you know where she is now, right?

Zaresi: We do. Follow the zombies.

-indeed, zombies are already crawling down the sides of the Tower of London. Evan grins. Laura nods silently-

Evan: So, what about you?

Zaresi: I will recollect myself and join you shortly. Go. Kill them all.

-around the world, zombies topple over as people watch in confusion. Meanwhile, streaks of light shoot up into the sky as Zaresi begins recalling her duplicates-

-cut back to the street, a while later, where Evan and Laura are following the zombie swarm. Flashes of Death magic streak overhead towards the Tower-

Evan: Honestly, I’m kind of disappointed.

-Laura doesn’t respond-

Evan: I said, I’m kind of disappointed.

-still nothing-

Evan: See, I was really hoping—

Laura: You know, when I didn’t respond to your floating a conversational starter, that should have been taken as an invitation to not keep talking.

Evan: I don’t really care. Anyway, I was hoping we were going to… like, see some action. Fight one on one, final battle, that whole thing? But I don’t see anyone around. We can’t find Liz ourselves, and if she’s not going to come out, it looks like the zombies are going to be having all the fun.

-he kicks at a pebble-

Evan: This is just so anticlimactic. What’s the point of ending a war with no flash?

Laura: I think the substance is the important part.

Evan: Uh, no. Aesthetic or death. Or in this case, aesthetic and dea—

-the sun goes out-

Liz: Someone say aesthetic?

-and a spear of War and Death magic plunges from the heavens, lighting up the artificial night and striking the zombie horde in a massive shockwave of red and black light-

-it clears slowly, the barrier between the earth and sun slowly dissipating to reveal the zombie horde now a pile of scattered bodies, and Evan and Laura protected by a barrier of Death magic-

Laura: You wanted your flash? I think you’ve got it.

-Liz floats down from above, six wings extending from her back, two black, two red, and two pink. She alights on the ground, raising a palm towards Evan and Laura, and blasting the barrier with a second spear of magic, this one Love and War. The barrier detonates, flinging the two backwards-

Liz: Welcome to the party, you two.

-she readies another blast, but is interrupted by a zombie tackling her-

Liz: Oh, come on.

-she flings it to the side, but it’s replaced by another. And another. Evan hops to his feet, grinning-

Evan: You really thought one good hit would take these zombies out?

Liz: Yes, Evan. I, the person who helped Zaresi design this ritual, am completely ignorant of its properties.

-she slashes a zombie’s legs off with a wing, keeping her eyes on Evan and Laura. While she tosses a bolt of magic their way, Laura deflects it-

Liz: Yes, Evan. I, the person who helped Zaresi design this entire plan, thought just walking in with a lot of magic and a few Domains would be enough to stop her army.

-she launches a series of pink feathers, tearing the magic from a handful of zombies-

Liz: For someone who claims to be so smart, Evan, you really don’t bother thinking about why anyone else does anything.

-Evan draws his knife-

Evan: What are you talking about?

Laura: She’s obviously distracting us, dumbass.

-and she whirls around in time to parry a hail of bullets and arrows-

Janice: Hey!

Quinn: Long time no see.

Janice: We, uh, we sort of took apart a few of your zombies on the way here.

-Laura looks past the two to see numerous zombies which have alternately had the magic torn from them or simply been blown apart-

Quinn: Hope you don’t mind.

Evan: Hey, Laura, I’m still watching Liz, but is the Poltergeist girl there?

Laura: She’s a Nymph now, but yeah. Janice too.

Evan: Really? Janice is still alive?

Quinn: Turns out you’re not very good at killing people.

Janice: How’s it going, Evan?

Evan: Have you ever been eating cookies, and found a cookie at the bottom of the bag you weren’t expecting?

-he snaps his fingers in Liz’s direction, and more zombies advance on her. While she’s still fighting them off, it’s starting to actually take her full attention-

Evan: Because that’s what killing you is going to be like.

-he whips around, drawing a playing card from his pocket with a free hand-

Evan: Daptrius ater!

-and he hurls it. It explodes in darkness and a streak of Death magic lances towards Quinn and Janice, who dive to one side. Before either of them are back on their feet, Laura follows up with a wide blast of Death magic-

Janice: Take cover!

-they hurl a bouncy ball at the blast, the resulting detonation providing enough concealment for Quinn to disappear down an alleyway. Janice, meanwhile, makes no move to go anywhere-

Evan: …I guess leaving your partner to die technically counts as strate—

-and Quinn bursts out of the alleyway again, tackling Laura away from Evan-

Evan: That works too.

-he shrugs-

Evan: Janice. Excited?

Janice: Like you would not believe.

-Laura, meanwhile, hurls Quinn away, keeping the other girl at bay with bolts of Death magic-

Laura: Where’d Morgan go?

Quinn: Wouldn’t you like to know?

Laura: Um, yes. That’s why I asked.

-Quinn rolls her eyes, launching arrows back at Laura-

-Laura’s question is answered, meanwhile, on the roof of a tall building, where Morgan is using scythes as grappling hooks to roofhop towards the Tower of London-

Morgan: I’m coming for you, Zaresi!

???: Um…

-and Iggy lands on the rooftop in front of her-

Iggy: Hi.

Morgan: Iggy. Really?

-she brandishes a scythe at him-

Morgan: I don’t want to hurt you. Just get out of my way.

-Iggy droops a little-

Iggy: Honestly, I don’t think that’s true.

Morgan: It’s completely true. I’m not interested in hurting anyone but Zaresi. If you let me by, you’ll be fine.

Iggy: You might be right.

-he poses more thoughtfully, resting a handless arm on a chinless hood-

Iggy: But I don’t know, really. Maybe that’s true for everyone else, but everybody always laughs at me, and you’re no exception. I don’t think I trust you.

-he takes a more combative stance, and Death magic starts to spill out from him, solidifying into a fleet of floating swords that dwarfs Morgan’s handful of scythes-

Iggy: But who’s laughing now?

-and all the swords plunge towards Morgan-

Morgan: Ack!

-she dives out of the way, scythes hooking a few swords aside as she rolls to her feet-

Iggy: Everyone always assumes I can’t fight. I’ll show them…

-More swords form, diving and slashing around Morgan as she desperately holds them off-

-cut back down to the street, where Liz is still battling zombies. Liz is slashing through dozens of them with little trouble, until a pair of them evade her at exceptional speed-

Liz: Ooh, Vampires. I was wondering when this was going to get interesting.

-she casually cuts one of them into dozens of pieces, but the second one sinks its fangs into her neck-

Liz: Hmm.

-and then bursts into flames-

Liz: What? Little divine magic too spicy for you? Honestly.

-and she returns to causing carnage, until she notices Morgan battling Iggy. She additionally notices dozens more Reapers slipping around buildings, angling towards Morgan’s back and taking up positions out of her sight-

Liz: Oh, come on. I can’t take my eye off that girl for a second…Time for phase two.

-cut to Dee and Andrew, who are still in their cell, when a Reaper storms up-

Reaper: You two!

-Andrew gulps-

Dee: Heya.

Reaper: You’re the reason I’m not on the frontlines right now!

Andrew: Um, well, the thing is—

Reaper: That is to say, thank you.

Andrew: Oh. Uh, you’re welcome.

Dee: I wouldn’t be grateful if I were you.

-a tendril of Love magic wraps around the Reaper, holding it still-

-a second Reaper walks up, the tendril extending from its sleeve, and lowers its hood to once again reveal Liz’s face-

Dee: I probably could have talked him onto the sigil myself.

Andrew: She means thank you.

Dee: I don’t.

Andrew: (a little desperately) She does.

Liz: She probably doesn’t. What sigil?

Dee: Andrew, help me with the bed.

-she and Andrew grab opposite sides of the bed and lift it up, careful not to drag it, and move it away from the corner-

-revealing an incredibly finely-drawn map of pencil sigils-

Liz: What.

Dee: Cool, huh?

Andrew: Liz, please tell me you understand these.

-Liz stares at them for a long moment-

Liz: I certainly do not. Dee, what does this do?

Dee: Stuff. Things. Put the Reaper on it, but make sure you don’t touch it.

Liz: Um.

Dee: Do you want this to work or not?

-Liz shrugs, and maneuvers the Reaper onto the sigil-

-it immediately vanishes, and about half the sigils glow with magic. The magic of the Reaper spills out as pure magic, lines twirling out from the sigil and reknitting it into a new, humanoid form, with no features except for a mouth-

-several more sigils light up, and words begin to pour from the form’s mouth-

Liz: Dee, what are you doing?

Dee: Just watch.

-as the figure finishes speaking, the last of the sigils start to glow, and the figure abruptly turns gray-

Liz: …What.

Andrew: …What.

Dee: Say hello to Dee Jr.!

-neither of them says hello, being too busy staring-

Liz: …Did you just—

Dee: Create the sigils for recycling the magic from a Spirit into a tulpa, a secondary ritual to turn a creature of pure magic into a Knowledge Contractor, and a tertiary ritual to cause the newly created tulpa to speak the words of the secondary ritual, all without the slightest bit of casting on my part, allowing me to create a Contractor despite being human and currently unable to cast?

-she grins-

Dee: Yeah. Yeah I did.

Liz: …How is that even possible?

Dee: I’m very, very, smart.

-she extends her hand to the tulpa, and power flows between them. Dee smiles wickedly, and turns to Andrew-

Dee: This is where you come in. She’s going to need some extra juice, so I was hoping you’d make a Contract with her too.

Andrew: …Sure.

-he does-

Liz: Wait, so what’s your plan with this god?

-Dee coughs-

Dee: I just created this being myself. What part of it screams divine to you?

Liz: Well, what’s your plan with it?

Dee: You’ll see. My advice, though? Get out of the line of fire.

-Liz nods, and dissipates-

Andrew: Now what?

Dee: Well.

-she grabs the mattress from the cot and tosses it aside, revealing hundreds more sigils scrawled onto the bedframe-

Dee: They’re playing at being gods? I say, let the punishment fit the crime.

-Knowledge magic gathers up around her hands-

Dee: Babel!

-and she slams her palms onto the map of sigils, a pulse of grey magic exploding outwards from her and through the walls of the Tower-

-back to Morgan, who is fending off Iggy’s onslaught, though she’s slowly being backed towards the other Reapers-

Morgan: Look, Iggy, you’re good, but you’re not…you know, that good.

-her scythes turn a deeper black, and slash cleanly through Iggy’s swords-

Morgan: See?

Iggy: I guess. Fortunately, I don’t have to be.

-he raises his voice-

-just as the wave of gray light washes over him-

Iggy: Ubij je!

-there’s a long pause, then a voice from behind Morgan speaks up-

Reaper #1: Attends, quoi?

-Morgan whirls around, to see the rest of the Reapers assembled-

Morgan: …This was your plan?

Iggy: Dobro…

-he pauses-

Iggy: Da li govorim srpski?

Reaper #2: Vent, jeg kender serbisk. Han fortalte os at dræbe hende.

-it pauses-

Reaper #2: Hvilket sprog taler jeg?

Reaper #3: Tanskan kieli.

-it pauses too-

Reaper #3: ...Perkele.

-Morgan, meanwhile, is looking in some confusion between the Reapers-

Morgan: So, uh, I’m out of here.

-and she hooks the next roof over with a scythe before running for it-

Iggy: Neko je zaustavio!

-Reaper #4 turns to Reaper #3-

Reaper #4: Uthini na?

-Reaper #3 shrugs helplessly-

-Liz, meanwhile, is watching Morgan flee the Reapers, grinning-

Liz: Phase 2 is well in hand, it looks like!

-a ghoul snarls in her face, she laughs back at it and flings it into a line of zombies, scattering them like ninepins-

-a bolt of Death magic whizzes past Liz’s ear. She rolls her eyes as Quinn lands nearby her, ducking behind a wing for cover as Laura hurls more helical blasts after her-

Liz: Nice to see you too, Quinn.

Quinn: Sorry, I’ll just be here a minute.

Liz: Take your time.

Quinn: You’re really letting Morgan take on all those Reapers by herself? She’s going to get killed!

Liz: Well, that’s what I said, but she wouldn’t listen. That’s why I have phase 3. You wanted to see how I was going to exert pressure on Zaresi? I just let her know what was coming.

Quinn: Phase 3?

-there’s a massive rush of air throughout the street-

Liz: Oh, here he comes now.

Quinn: He?

Liz: Take a look.

-she looks up-

-as do Laura, Evan, Janice, Morgan, and the Reapers-

-as does, in fact, every living person for several blocks-

-a dragon appearing in the sky in a fiery explosion will do that-

Morgan: This is possibly the best day of my life.

Quinn: Seriously?! You recruited the Dragon?

Liz: Yeah, why not? He was bored, I needed the muscle, we worked it out.

-the Reapers recover from their awe and start to advance on Morgan again, but are interrupted by a pillar of fire descending from Eneril-

Eneril: This retribution is long due, Zaresi!

Iggy: Znate, tehnički Liz—

Reaper #2: Hold kæft, Iggy!

-the Reapers scatter as Eneril rains more fire down on them. The Dragon glides past the battle towards the tower, and sinks his claws into it, tearing huge sections out of the building-

Liz: ...I’m sure we can fix that later.

-the Reapers already regrouping to pursue Eneril, the Dragon lends out an annoyed grumble, and sticks his claw into the Tower, withdrawing-

Dee: I’ve never been so happy to see the sun!

Andrew: What sun? We’re in London.

-Eneril then takes off, the Reapers continuing to chase him as they exchange fire-

-meanwhile, Quinn is still taking cover behind Liz’s wings-

Liz: Can you move, maybe? I’m really kind of busy right now.

Quinn: Just a second. Oh, watch out for that ghoul over there.

-Liz turns to see an undead darting towards her. She casually swipes at it with a Love wing, disenchanting it and leaving it to crumple-

Liz: Thanks for tha—

-she turns back. Quinn is gone-

Liz: Oh, cool, she figured that trick out.

-Laura runs up to Liz-

Laura: Oh, hey. Have you seen a Nymph?

Liz: Are you serious?

-Laura looks slightly ashamed-

Laura: It’s a little hard to get used to not being on the same side.

Liz: If you say so.

Laura: ...You’re not going to—

Liz: I’m not what you have to worry about.

-Quinn grabs Laura’s arms from behind. Laura attempts to create a blast of Death magic, but Quinn flares with Love magic, diverting the blast harmlessly-

Laura: Nice trick.

Quinn: Thanks!

Laura: So, uh...Quinn, right?

Quinn: You know my name.

Laura: No, I mean, that’s who you are, right? I kept seeing you but nobody ever actually told me what your deal was.

Quinn: Oh! Well, uh, yeah, I’m Quinn.

Laura: Well, um, sorry.

Quinn: Wait, are you serious? You’re still trying to apologize? You killed almost everybody I knew! Including, temporarily, me!

Laura: No, I mean sorry about this.

-she pulls on Quinn, whipping the Spirit around into a wall. Quinn’s form flickers slightly as she slides over the wall, and Laura uses the opportunity to break away. She frees her arms, spins around, and looses a helix of Death straight into Quinn’s face-

-or she would, if Quinn didn’t bend out of the way-

Laura: Okay, that’s kind of impressive.

Quinn: ...Yeah, I totally did not know I could do that.

-as the two battle, exchanging blasts and arrows at astonishingly close range, Evan and Janice are watching-

Janice: You know, I used to think you two were decent.

Evan: Laura’s okay, I think. I like to give her a hard time, but she really does think she’s doing the right thing.

Janice: Coming from you? Not really a high bar.

Evan: Whatever.

Janice: You killed hundreds of people. That’s really a whatever to you?

Evan: Oh, come on. You’re actually mad?

Janice: Was the gun to your head not a clue?

-Evan looks to the side slightly. Indeed, Janice has conjured up a pistol to Evan’s temple-

Evan: Aww, cute. But have you noticed where you’re standing?

-Janice looks down, and notices that Evan has dropped his sigil mat on the ground-

Janice: ...You really think you can get a ritual off before I shoot you? Those bird names have, like, 7 syllables per.

Evan: That’s true.

-he grins-

Evan: Fortunately, I’ve branched out a little.

-he stomps on the mat, and a crackling sphere of Death magic bursts out from it. Janice’s gun vanishes instantly, and they have just enough time to duck away as patches of their skin start to burn and necrotize where the sphere touches-

Janice: Okay, that was cool. Finally dropping that ridiculous theme?

Evan: Well, not entirely.

-he draws his knife-

Evan: Gypohierax!

-he slashes the knife through the air wildly, sending crescents of Death magic flying towards Janice-

Janice: Oh, that’s new.

-they conjure up heavy artillery by way of cover, but the crescents disintegrate their conjurations on contact-

Janice: New and unwelcome.

-they attempt return fire, but the sphere from Evan’s mat deflects the attacks-

Janice: Extremely unwelcome.

Evan: Having fun yet?

Janice: Speaking of fun, whatever happened to you using kid’s toys? That was whimsical and lighthearted. I appreciated it.

Evan: Something make you think this is a game? This is business, Janice. See, as outstanding War magic, you’re the red in my ledger. But don’t worry, I’m shooting to be in the black by the end of the day.

-there’s a long pause-

Janice: That was...possibly the worst line I’ve ever heard. It didn’t gel with the theme of the exchange at all! Like, at first you were going for the whole ”pretending this is a game” angle, but then you criticize me for trying to roll with it?

Evan: Maybe I’m mixing business and pleasure.

Janice: We always do that. Doesn’t excuse poorly-thought-out banter. Seriously, what kind of tortured metaphor—

Evan: How’s this for tortured? Carunculata!

-the sphere vanishes, and is replaced by an enormous wave of Death magic, which races after Janice-

Janice: ...Today is just...really difficult.

-and they bolt, disappearing behind a building-

Evan: Aw.

-he shrugs, and turns his attention to the Quinn and Laura fight. The two are still launching helices and arrows at each other from about a foot away-

Evan: What kind of...

Laura: Don’t take this personally or anything, but it would have been a lot easier if you’d died back in town.

-she sweeps a helix at Quinn’s head. Quinn responds by simply vanishing her head, and responds with an arrow, which Laura dodges with milliseconds to spare-

Quinn: How would I possibly not take that personally?

-she rains down arrows, and Laura steps out of the area of effect, putting some distance between her and Quinn-

Quinn: Honestly, you act like you can just say ”mission” and that excuses all the people you’re hurting. Do you not get the hypocrisy?

Laura: I’m trying to help people!

Quinn: Do you hear yourself? You expect everyone else to just be willing to lay down their lives for your plan!

Laura: I’ll happily die myself if that’s what it takes to get this world into some semblance of order.

Quinn: Good to know.

-she vanishes, reappearing behind Laura, and kicks her legs out from under her. Before Laura hits the ground, Quinn’s in front of her again, a bow and arrow forming and pointing directly at Laura’s heart-

Quinn: Morgan really didn’t want to do this, so I feel like she shouldn’t have to. But I think it needs doing.

-More and more magic gathers in the arrow, until it’s a very solid object. Laura just stares at it-

Laura: What are you waiting for?

Quinn: I’m not.

Laura: So why am I still alive?

Quinn: Do you not want to be?

-Laura shrugs-

Laura: I don’t think you’ve really got it in you to kill me.

-Quinn points the arrow a little more carefully-

-and an arc of Death magic slashes her from shoulder to hip, dissipating the bow and arrow. Quinn cries out in pain and collapses as Evan strolls up-

Evan: As usual, Laura, you need me to clean up your messes.

-he points his knife at Quinn, who is slowly pulling herself back together-

Evan: If you’re going to kill someone, you can’t take your time about it. But I guess it’s a little too late for advice now. Gypohi—

Janice: HEY EVAN!

-though only Evan was called, all three fighters look up to see Janice standing on top of a skyscraper-

Evan: ...How’d you get up there?

-he turns to Laura-

Evan: How’d they get up there?

-Laura shrugs-

Janice: WANNA SEE SOMETHING SUPER COOL?!

Evan: NO!

Janice: TOO BAD! ROLL OUT!

-and they step off the side of the building, plummeting towards the ground-

Evan: ...I guess that’s cool, in an existentially depressing sort of way.

Laura: Wait, look.

-Evan does-

-as Janice falls, wisps of War magic gather around them, forming a shell. Though at first it just seems like an amorphous blob, it gradually takes shape-

-until they land on their feet, encased in a two-story tall, heavily armed mech suit composed entirely of War magic-

Evan: ...Okay, that’s fairly cool.

Janice: Right?!

-and they open fire. Laura has just enough time to bring up a barrier, which quickly starts crumbling under the offensive-

Laura: That is an...astonishingly powerful ritual.

Janice: It ought to be! I spent months charging it!

Evan: Hmph. You’re not the only one with big guns. Normally I wouldn’t stoop to fake birds but...ZIZ!

-and he throws his mat onto the ground. It explodes with writhing tendrils of Death magic, parrying Janice’s fire-

Laura: When did you make that?

Evan: It’s been a work in progress.

-he points at Janice, and the tentacles all plunge towards the mech suit-

-and an arrow strikes them midway, pinning them to a wall-

Evan: Oh, come on.

-Quinn waves from where she’s reformed, a bow and arrow still floating behind her-

Quinn: You were saying something about killing people quickly?

-Evan’s tendrils tear free of their restraints, and Laura hops onto one of them, being carried up into the air. Quinn, as counterpoint, hops onto Janice’s shoulders as the four face off-

-back in the skies, Dee and Andrew have climbed up to Eneril’s back, and are holding on for dear life as the Dragon circles the city, slashing and blasting at the swarm of Reapers surrounding him-

Dee: Okay, so, tactics time.

Andrew: What?

Dee: Tactics time.

Andrew: No, I heard you, I’m just not sure what you mean. Why is it tactics time?

Dee: It’s always tactics time. We’re fighting. We need tactics.

Andrew: Then why announce it?

-Dee blinks a few times-

Dee: Right, so, Eneril, the ritual is keeping the Reapers from coordinating, which gives us the advantage.

Andrew: I don’t know if he’s listening.

Dee: Which means we’re going to need to communicate. You’re going to want to bank left; they’re lighter in that direction and you can hopefully get on one side of the entire army.

Eneril: You’re going to want to stop trying to give me orders.

Dee: Well, if you say so...

-and Eneril runs headlong into a massed group of Reapers, who open fire. Though he fends off the attacks with bursts of Darkness and Wealth magic, and disperses the Reapers with a wave of flames, the effort is clearly winding-

Eneril: ...So. Left?

Dee: Well, forward probably works now.

-Eneril plunges forward, slipping through the horde of Reapers before they can regather-

Dee: Moral of the story, listen when I give directions?

-Eneril snorts out an irritated breath-

Eneril: So it would seem.

Andrew: So, uh, what should I do?

Dee: Oh, you’re here for moral support.

Andrew: Starting to wish I’d taken Liz up on her offer.

-Dee grins, a little maniacally-

Dee: Too late now!

-Meanwhile, Morgan is still making her way towards the tower-

Morgan: Hey, Liz!

Liz: What?

Morgan: Have you noticed—

Liz: No, I mean ”what” as in, I can’t hear you!

Morgan: Wait what are you saying? I can’t hear you!

Liz: I can’t hear you! Morgan, can you come over here?

Morgan: What?

-Liz rolls her eyes, and in a flash is standing next to Morgan-

Liz: What is it? Make it quick, I have a zombie army to defeat.

Morgan: Have you noticed that Zaresi stopped recalling her duplicates?

-Liz looks up. Indeed, the dark flashes have stopped-

Liz: ...Uh-oh.

-and the Tower detonates-

-Zaresi rises from it. She’s still wearing the form of a Reaper, but she’s easily 40 feet tall, dozens of scythes floating around her. Morgan and Liz stare-

Zaresi: Afternoon, everyone.

Liz: ...Well. Time for phase 4.

[justcallmeasmodeus]

The Heart Wants

So, this was supposed to be a Drabble. But the more I reread, the more it screams to be it's own fic. Oops. It was one of those things that had managed to seep out of the world of magic and into that of the non-adept: the concept of soulmates. Everyone had a soulmate just as sure as every living being breathed. If you were lucky you found yours before one of you died. Luck had always been a fine line for Margo to walk. Eliot had arranged another party, and this time someone drunkenly suggested they all get together and perform the spell that would tell you your soulmate, and then share it with the group. It was mere child’s play really, a simple first year spell that helped fully open the door to magic. One of Margo’s friends had shown her when they were still kids in highschool messing around with a few spells their parents had taught them, so Margo knew that it worked. She already knew who her soulmate was, and she hoped that maybe tonight he would finally find out that she was his. Anticipation bubbled in the pit of Margo’s stomach as the other side of the circle began conjuring the little blue pieces of paper. On the outside she put on an air of calm, cool, and collected, making the right comments at the right times, and pretending that she could care less about what was going on around her. In reality, she was focused on him. The way he smiled and laughed, the way he held his drink, the way his hair bounced as he moved. He was perfect in her eyes, and he always would be. That’s how this all worked. She snapped to attention as she heard his name read from another piece of paper. Her eyes scanned the room to see who was reading, because this couldn’t possibly be happening and it must be a cruel joke. Quentin Coldwater was sitting beside Eliot, a red blush blooming on his cheeks and a blue card trembling in his hands. Fuck. This cannot be happening. Fuck. What is happening? There has to be a mistake. He has to have fucked up somehow. Then Eliot’s hands were running through the spell quickly. Margo was enchanted by the fluidity of his movements, and the ease at which magic came to him. His blue card appeared in his hands, and Margo bit her lip as a smile spread across Eliot’s face. He looked up at her and she felt a wave of relief wash over her. She knew that Quentin had to have fucked up somehow. “Quentin Coldwater.” As his name left Eliot’s lips, Margo’s world screeched to a halt. The floor dropped out from beneath her, and she put her hand on Eliot’s arm to keep from falling over. She forced a smile on her face, but Eliot wasn’t paying attention to her. His eyes were on Quentin. “Do you know what this means Q?” She head Eliot say. “I think so, but I’m not exactly sure. Should we talk about it?” It was like a bad movie, a bad movie that couldn’t possibly be happening to Margo. Sure, she had wanted Eliot to fuck Quentin, to get it out of his system, just like all the other guys, but she had never wanted this to happen. “I’ve always been more of a fan of action myself.” Eliot leaned in and pressed his lips against Quentin’s. While everyone was distracted Margo stood up. She walked calmly out of the room, someone’s empty glass in her hand to appear as though she was getting a new drink. Eliot would know better, she always used a charmed glass so she would never have to worry about a refill, but she didn’t think that Eliot would be looking for her any time soon. She sat the glass down on the bar before running up to her room. She shut and locked the door, putting up a ward to prevent any drunken couples from walking in on her. She sat on her bed and ran through the spell for what probably was the hundredth time in her life. The little blue card appeared, and it read the same name that it always did. She felt a burn rising in the back of her throat, all the way up to her eyes. Her chin began to quiver, and she swallowed hard, trying to swallow the feelings that were suddenly rushing back after having disappeared for the past four years. I’m not good enough. I am worth nothing. There is something wrong with me. I am a mistake. A single tear pattered on the card. Margo got up and stalked over to her desk, quickly undoing the ward on the upper right hand drawer and yanking it open. Inside were stacks of identical blue cards. She laid the newest one in, name side up. They used to bring her joy, but now they just glared up at her mockingly. “Eliot Waugh, Eliot Waugh, Eliot Waugh,” each stack screamed at her until she slammed the drawer shut and reinstated the wards. She couldn’t let him know. It would crush him, and he was finally happy. She could swallow this heartbreak, and hide it, just like she did before. His happiness is what mattered. Tomorrow, she would put her game face on. Tomorrow, she would get up and pretend that she was fine. Tonight she would grieve, and cry, and feel. She pulled a bottle of whiskey out from under her bed, and she drank until everything felt numb. She curled up around it in bed, and she let everything go. By the time she was done crying, the party downstairs had long gone silent. She heard someone stumbling down the hall toward her room. They slammed against the door, and mumbled something under their breath. As Eliot took the wards down and walked through her door, she pretended to be asleep. He stumbled over to the side of her bed, and she could feel him looking down at her. She felt the bed settle as he crawled underneath the covers and pulled her close. She could smell Quentin’s aftershave on his undershirt, and it made her stomach uneasy. “My dearest Bambi,” Eliot whispered loudly, “I have so much to tell you about tonight.” He giggled, and his breath smelled like gin. “But for now, I love you.” He leaned forward and pressed his lips to her forehead. Margo hoped that he wouldn’t remember the tears streaming down her face as he passed out. “I love you too.” She whispered back, placing her hand under his shirt and directly above his beating heart.

[accidentally-logince]

ww wife has vawue. You don't knyow what he's capabwe of feewing. My bwochuwe ^w^ Thewe you go, wittwe guy. I'm nyot scawed of him. It's an awwewgic thing. Put that on youw wesume bwochuwe. My whowe face couwd puff up. Make it onye of youw speciaw skiwws. Knyocking someonye out is awso a speciaw skiww. Wight. Bye, Vanyessa. Thanks. - Vanyessa, nyext week? Yoguwt nyight? - Suwe, Ken. You knyow, whatevew. - You couwd put cawob chips on thewe. - Bye. - Supposed to be wess cawowies. - Bye. I gotta say something. She saved my wife. I gotta say something. Aww wight, hewe it goes. Nyah. What wouwd I say? I couwd weawwy get in twoubwe. It's a bee waw. You'we nyot supposed to tawk to a human. I can't bewieve I'm doing this. I've got to. Oh, I can't do it. Oome on ^w^ Nyo. Yes. Nyo. Do it. I can't. How shouwd I stawt it? "You wike jazz?" Nyo, that's nyo good. Hewe she comes ^w^ Speak, you foow ^w^ Hi ^w^ I'm sowwy. - You'we tawking. - Yes, I knyow. You'we tawking ^w^ I'm so sowwy. Nyo, it's OK. It's finye. I knyow I'm dweaming. But I don't wecaww going to bed. Weww, I'm suwe this is vewy disconcewting. This is a bit of a suwpwise to me. I mean, you'we a bee ^w^ I am. And I'm nyot supposed to be doing this, but they wewe aww twying to kiww me. And if it wasn't fow you... I had to thank you. It's just how I was waised. That was a wittwe weiwd. - I'm tawking with a bee. - Yeah. I'm tawking to a bee. And the bee is tawking to me ^w^ I just want to say I'm gwatefuw. I'ww weave nyow. - Wait ^w^ How did you weawn to do that? - What? The tawking thing. Same way you did, I guess. "Mama, Dada, honyey." You pick it up. - That's vewy funny. - Yeah. Bees awe funny. If we didn't waugh, we'd cwy with what we have to deaw with. Anyway... Oan I... ...get you something? - Wike what? I don't knyow. I mean... I don't knyow. Ooffee? I don't want to put you out. It's nyo twoubwe. It takes two minyutes. - It's just coffee. - I hate to impose. - Don't be widicuwous ^w^ - Actuawwy, I wouwd wuv a cup. Hey, you want wum cake? - I shouwdn't. - Have some. - Nyo, I can't. - Oome on ^w^ I'm twying to wose a coupwe micwogwams. - Whewe? - These stwipes don't hewp. You wook gweat ^w^ I don't knyow if you knyow anything about fashion. Awe you aww wight? Nyo. He's making the tie in the cab as they'we fwying up Madison. He finyawwy gets thewe. He wuns up the steps into the chuwch. The wedding is on. And he says, "Watewmewon? I thought you said Guatemawan. Why wouwd I mawwy a watewmewon?" Is that a bee joke? That's the kind of stuff we do. Yeah, diffewent. So, what awe you gonnya do, Bawwy? About wowk? I don't knyow. I want to do my pawt fow the hive, but I can't do it the way they want. I knyow how you feew. - You do? - Suwe. My pawents wanted me to be a wawyew ow a doctow, but I wanted to be a fwowist. - Weawwy? - My onwy intewest is fwowews. Ouw nyew queen was just ewected with that same campaign swogan. Anyway, if you wook... Thewe's my hive wight thewe. See it? You'we in Sheep Meadow ^w^ Yes ^w^ I'm wight off the Tuwtwe Pond ^w^ Nyo way ^w^ I knyow that awea. I wost a toe wing thewe once. - Why do giwws put wings on theiw toes? - Why nyot? - It's wike putting a hat on youw knyee. - Maybe I'ww twy that. - You aww wight, ma'am? - Oh, yeah. Finye. Just having two cups of coffee ^w^ Anyway, this has been gweat. Thanks fow the coffee. Yeah, it's nyo twoubwe. Sowwy I couwdn't finyish it. If I did, I'd be up the west of my wife. Awe you...? Oan I take a piece of this with me? Suwe ^w^ Hewe, have a cwumb. - Thanks ^w^ - Yeah. Aww wight. Weww, then... I guess I'ww see you awound. Ow nyot. OK, Bawwy. And thank you so much again... fow befowe. Oh, that? That was nyothing. Weww, nyot nyothing, but... Anyway... This can't possibwy wowk. He's aww set to go. We may as weww twy it. OK, Dave, puww the chute. - Sounds amazing. - It was amazing ^w^ It was the scawiest, happiest moment of my wife. Humans ^w^ I can't bewieve you wewe with humans ^w^ Giant, scawy humans ^w^ What wewe they wike? Huge and cwazy. They tawk cwazy. They eat cwazy giant things. They dw

I heweby decwee dat aww of my posts wiww be wwitten in OwO

UwU

[yahoo-puck-daddy-blog]

Riley Sheahan, playoffs in Canada and LA's changes (Puck Daddy Countdown)

TORONTO, ON – APRIL 9: Young fans hold signs during before the Toronto Maple Leafs play against the Columbus Blue Jackets at the Air Canada Centre on April 9, 2017 in Toronto, Ontario, Canada. (Photo by Mark Blinch/NHLI via Getty Images) *** Local Caption ***

(In which Ryan Lambert takes a look at some of the biggest issues and stories in the NHL, and counts them down.)

8. Riley Sheahan

How dare this guy score the goals when it would have been really funny to see a guy go 0-fer on 100-plus shots?

The fact that he scored twice perhaps makes up for a season’s worth of ridicule but still, it would have been cool to see history made once again. While 141 players in league history have gone an entire season (playing at least 70 games) without scoring, the vast, vast majority of them are defensemen.

Only nine of them were forwards. The most recent was Craig Adams, who went 0-10-10 in 82 games in 2009-10. It would have been hard not to score even by accident on a team with Malkin and Crosby, but here we are I guess. Didn’t get the Kunitz bump.

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But let’s pour one out for Dave Brown, who played 729 NHL games over 14 seasons, and somehow scored just 45 goals. He went a full season without scoring twice! Once in ’88-89 (0-5-5 in 72 games) and again in ’92-93 (0-2-2 in 70). That’s amazing. Even more amazing? One time he also scored 12 in 47. 

7. Keeping the same geniuses in charge

Like, okay, shakeups aren’t something teams like to go through. We understand this. It’s why guys stay in the jobs they have longer than they should.

But things are getting goddamn ridiculous in Winnipeg. How many seasons can this team fail to live up to its promise in a row while Kevin Cheveldayoff (understandable-ish) and Paul Maurice (baffling) keep their jobs? This team has one playoff appearance in the five years since they moved to Winnipeg. They have zero playoff wins.

There are plenty of mitigating factors but it’s hard to imagine anyone lasts five years without a playoff win and keeps their jobs for a sixth, right? Especially in Canada. Especially as the fervent love of the Jets wane and they can’t even sell out a 15,000-seat building in Manitoba! There’s nothing going on in Winnipeg! People are actively staying away! These people used to scream the name of the friggin’ ownership group during “O Canada,” that’s how in-the-tank they were for the damn Jets. And now they don’t even want to show up.

It takes a lot of work to burn that much goodwill in three or four years, but Maurice did it. Truly an amazing accomplishment.

6. Certain Canadian teams making the playoffs

Tough to decide who was more obnoxious about their teams barely making the playoffs, Toronto or Edmonton fans.

We get it, you went a long time without making the playoffs. But damn, dudes, they let 16 teams in every year. A lot of them suck! Maybe you’re not one of them this year — I think both Edmonton and Toronto are decent clubs, especially relative to expectations — but c’mon. They’ve let the Blue Jackets in more than once. They let the Jets in two years ago. Hell, the Red Wings made it the last few years and they’ve been terrible!

Making the playoffs is barely an accomplishment. Playing well in them, not getting rolled by a better team, that’s what you should be doing with your “happy to be here”-ass attitudes.

No one is “trolling you” by saying this. It’s simple statement of fact.

5. A new coach and GM in Los Angeles

Well listen, hey, firing Darryl Sutter is not going to go well. I guess you can argue that the lack of goals over the past several years were his fault, to a certain extent. It’s long been theorized in the stats community that while the Kings are dominant in terms of shot attempts, the way they do it also results in a shocking low shooting percentage. And if that plus injuries plus an older roster plus bad luck combined to cost them a playoff spot, you can see where the coach gets canned.

But like, who do you hire that coaxes a better performance out of this particular group of players without a major overhaul (buyouts, hoping Vegas inexplicably takes Dustin Brown off your hands, etc.)? Hmm, probably you don’t. That’s my guess.

As for Dean Lombardi, you gotta say that a lot of his problems were his own doing. The Brown contract. The Quick contract. The Gaborik contract. The Martinez contract.

But here’s why I don’t feel even a little bad for Lombardi getting canned: The Slava Voynov situation. Sure, there’s no way he could have predicted Voynov would beat the hell out of his wife and get suspended forever. Losing a very bad person who’s also a very good No. 2 defenseman overnight is going to hurt your club. A lot of Lombardi’s problems arose from trying to react properly to that situation.

His handling of the Voynov thing? Letting him practice with the team even when he was suspended, being wishy-washy about the allegations? Gross. Unforgivable, frankly. People chalked it up to his capital-L Loyalty. He’s so loyal. Those guys are like his family. Oh it burned him here but don’t we love that about him?

Where was the loyalty with Mike Richards? Dude had a scrips problem, but also a bad contract and a declining ability to play in the NHL. “Loyal Dean” Lombardi acted so fast to file contract termination papers that his keyboard exploded.

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So Lombardi’s loyalty — which did indeed hurt his team’s long-term cap flexibility and is indeed what got him fired in the end — only went so far. If you could help the team, even if you hit your significant other, well, that’s a family thing. If you have a substance abuse problem that stems from playing a brutal sport? Tough luck. We have a cap to consider. Thanks for the out, hope you get the help you need.

You hesitate to say “Lombardi’s a bad person,” of course. But I ain’t sheddin’ a tear for him like I am for Sutter.

4. A new coach in Florida

Not bringing Tom Rowe back as coach is a good idea. Maybe you see what Darryl Sutter can do with a very good young two-way No. 1 center (Barkov), elite young No. 1 defenseman (Ekblad), and above-average goaltender (Reimer).

Seems to me the last time he had all those things and a solid supporting cast, he had some pretty good success. Just floating that idea.

Dallas Stars coach Ken Hitchcock watches his team from the bench, in the first period against the Detroit Red Wings in Game 2 of the Western Conference Finals in Dallas, Tuesday, May 26, 1998. (AP Photo/Bill Waugh)

3. A new coach in Dallas

I have never at any point really felt like Lindy Ruff was a particualrly good coach, so the decision to turf him and bring in Ken Hitchcock is understandable, and I think something that’s going to help the team in the short-term.

With that said, though, what was he supposed to do with this roster, and particularly those goalies? Again, the move overall is good, but unless you can get someone who bumps your team save percentage up by 15-20 points, there are bigger issues that Jim Nill hasn’t addressed — and probably can’t.

2. A new coach in Vancouver

Well, it’s a good start. Now you only need to can the GM and the team president and you’re really getting somewhere in the neighborhood of “fixing the Canucks.”

It’s a horrible team that legitimately thought as recently as three months ago, “We’re a piece or two away from making the playoffs.” Technically true, if those pieces are Carey Price and Connor McDavid.

But none of these guys have a real clue how to get closer to winning. They traded for Brandon Sutter and Erik Gudbranson, to be part of The Young Core. Well, great. It’s going great.

Firing Desjardins? Yeah good move. You should have made it two years ago. Should have never hired him, quite frankly. Hindsight’s 20/20 but come on.

This team has been a mess forever. Firing the coach should only be the beginning.

1. PLAYOFFS

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh yeah baby.

Ryan Lambert is a Puck Daddy columnist. His email is here and his Twitter is here.

(All statistics via Corsica unless otherwise noted.)

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