#he was awake though ? right back to it. suddenly its his job to recreate the world anew. pure. according to his ideals. nobody should have

[dirt-str1der]

Quivering and hooking my fingers into my mouth and biting down hard on them sobbing because the anime

[theonetheycallhannah]

The Treatment of Captain Syverson-Chapter 14: No Call No Show

Characters: Shane Benton (OFC), various other original supporting/secondary characters

Summary: We find out where Shane went Monday after work and exactly why she hasn’t been responding to any attempts at communication…and unfortunately, she’s not just taking some “me time.”

Want to reminisce about when this was just a happy little fluffy romance? Return to chapters past, or look at my other smutty drabbles here!

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings:  SHANE FIGHTS BACK, BUT DEFINITELY GETS HER ASS KICKED, SO FAIR WARNING, IT’S VIOLENT. Language, mature themes, emotional abuse, mention of narcotics (morphine), vomiting, foreshadowing and mention of potential future violent/non-con/dub-con activities, but if those acts occur, they will not be portrayed on the page, but rather between chapter or section breaks, so don’t worry. Also, I use the “R” word, but not to discuss non-con, but rather to add an educational note about why one should yell “fire” when one is being assaulted. Basically no Sy material whatsoever, but he’s mentioned, so I’m tagging it as such! Shane being somewhat blasé about her mortality. I really don’t want to trigger anyone, so please read with caution or wait until you emotionally are ready to deal with our girl going through the shit.

Author’s Note: Really REALLY nervous about this one. This is not the resolution you are looking for, my friends. In fact, it’s not a resolution, at all. Lol. I foresee many people disliking this chapter for some reason or another. That’s actually okay. It’s not a chapter you’re meant to “like” per se. I don’t “like” it. I’m prepared for it to get very few notes, and I’m positioning it anyway. I think it’s some of my better writing, but I hated putting Shane through the ringer like this. It’s just one of those chapters you “get through.” And honestly, if you truly didn’t like it please give me feedback so I can improve and tweak. {For reasons other than “My beebeeeeee!” or “never mention anything less than consensual ever again kthxbye” because a) of all, MY beebee too, and b) of all, that’s what warnings are for and why they should be read.} That being said, I hope it at least tides you over until the next chapter. At least you know where she is…not that THAT’S a big relief under the circumstances! Lol!

Disclaimer: Unfortunately for me, Henry is not mine, le sigh, and all mention of him, his characters, any characters from his films, or his precious doggy, Kal, are strictly for transformative and recreational use. I neither ask for, nor accept payment for the work I post on Tumblr or AO3. Unbeta’d because this is for fun and escapism.

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Hope I’m not forgetting anyone! If you want to be notified when I post a new chapter or work, I’ll be happy to add you to my tag list! Stricken blogs are getting personal messages from me when a new chapter is uploaded because Tumblr’s faulty tagging system will not stand in the way of me delivering what the people want!(?) lol! (Although…their lackadaisical notification system might…sorry for that. I have no control. lol!)

X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@

Previously, in Virginia…

"Shane left work Monday and hasn't been back since. No one has seen her. Apart from you, I presume. "

"I haven't seen her in about a week and a half. I'm training out of state for a job. I've been away from my phone since Monday, and I just got back to it now."

"She isn't…with you? I assumed…"

"Well, you know what they say, Susan. I'm coming back early if I can manage it. See if I can do something to help find her."

Three days earlier, in Missouri…

Shane blinked her eyes open to little avail. She couldn't tell where she was, other than what seemed to be the back seat of a fairly new-model large vehicle, like a Suburban or a Tahoe. She thought it was new because the new car smell was still overpowering the nicotine and tobacco odor of at least one of its occupants. She could also smell the sickly sweet stench of artificial cherry permeating the cabin. The source must be very close to her nose as she lay there helplessly restrained while the vehicle jostled down the road. The smell reminded her of the horrible liquid pain reliever her mother would give her as a child when she had a fever or leg pains. She had taken enough of it then to make her averse to most cherry flavorings as an adult. She wanted to retch.

She could also make out the faint glow of a dashboard lit with LED lights, brighter and softer than those of older models. But she soon had to shut her eyes again. Her head was throbbing and her memories were fuzzy. She remembered very little of Monday…was it still Monday? But she was trying to think, despite the pounding of many drums in her cranium where a brain should be.

She remembered staying at work late to finish notes. She remembered heading home…and she remembered forgetting her phone at her desk and deciding to turn around to get it…when suddenly she was surrounded by vehicles and unable to move without having an accident. Had she known the circumstances then, she would have tried to muscle through. The horrific events came flooding back in traumatic flashes like lightning, or the pulse of passing streetlights in an unfamiliar city.

She remembered…

The glass by her left ear shattered. A hooded, hulking figure reached in through the new opening, fumbling for the handle to open the door. She'd had the presence of mind to fight back there. To punch at the probing extremity. But the extremity hit back, landing a solid smack against her left cheek, stunning her for long enough that the cruel apparition found the unlock button, pressed it, and opened the door. She didn't go quietly. She fought like the hellcat her mother always told her to be. Her foot found the odd solar plexus and groin before enough dark nemeses arrived to overpower her. They dragged her away from her car and out onto the pavement of the church parking lot she'd used to turn around. She did not make it easy for them. She kicked and punched and tried to twist out of their grips like vices. She yelled "fire" as she was taught as a young woman, not knowing the men's intentions, but certain they weren't kind, and knowing that yelling "rape" was not always effective at summoning help. Either way, it didn't matter. She could have shouted anything. No one was near enough, or cared enough, to come to her aid. As soon as her soft hands hit the gritty pavement, though, the violence intensified. She lost count of how many times she got kicked in the back, stomach, ribs. One asshole even kicked her in the tit. She'd find out who that was and he'd find himself in a special brand of pain…if she ever got out of this alive. She heard them calling her awful names that she was sure she hadn't earned, and especially not from these guys. About six of them, she thought. She hardly knew six guys. She certainly didn't know six guys that would want her roughed up like this. She heard one of the men start to say "Come on, guys, we better save some for--" and with that, she blacked out to the tune of the distinct "thunk" of a wooden baseball bat making contact with the back of her head.

She wanted to forget…for it to be a terrible nightmare…to wake up.

But she was awake. This was a waking nightmare. The cold leather on her cheek was made colder by the harsh air conditioning blowing toward her from above and below. She shivered from the chill and from the terror she was trying to suppress. Where were they taking her? For what purpose? And for whom were they leaving parts un-bruised…though it didn't feel like it.

She finally felt them slowing, heard a turn signal clicking, the courtesy of which she applauded despite her position in the active abduction taking place, and felt the gentle displacement of her body toward the driver side, knocking her head into the door. A right turn. Not that it would matter too much, but at least when she escaped, and she made herself think "when" and not "if," she would know which direction to turn to get back to town.

The blow to the head had left her sensitive to light and sound. As she was yanked from the back seat, all she could see was the glow of a dusk to dawn light above them. Normally a soft, guiding light, this one just as well have been the sun itself the way it stung her tender eyes. She squinted against it, thankful as she never would have thought to be, when a shroud was placed over her throbbing head. She could still hear the power coursing through the bulb and fixture, though. Normally a dull hum, in the state she was in, it was as loud as accidentally switching your TV to the snow channel at full volume.

"Bring 'er inside." She heard an unfamiliar male voice say.

Two strong, ruthless hands grabbed her by the armpits, causing her to cry out in pain. Such a tender place to bear weight, and why even big strong Sy hated crutches…Sy. Would she ever see him again?

"Shut up, bitch, or we'll knock you out again." She believed them, and being fairly certain she had at least a mild  concussion, she wasn't sure what a second blow of an indeterminate velocity might do to her brain. She dealt with the stabbing pain as the men dragged her across what sounded like gravel, then grass, then something hard and smooth, maybe the slabs of an old, sunken, and somewhat uneven footpath. Soon, she felt the pain of her knees hitting what she assumed were porch steps. One, two, three of them. She was trying to concentrate through the fog now setting in, and maintain consciousness. Paying attention to the sensations, she told herself, was not only helpful for that task, it might help her escape. Remember the scents, too, she reminded herself. She tried to shake off the nauseating cherry and cigarette stench from her olfactory glands and take note of the bouquet around her.

Burnt leaves…gasoline…engine grease…the tang of sappy, just cut firewood…straw…manure…this seemed to be a farm. With a barn nearby…perhaps with horses. She loved horses. If she could find a gentle horse in the night…escape might be easier than she'd anticipated.

Entering the house was a noisy affair. There was a metallic keening from the spring of an aluminum screen door. She imagined it had one of those big swirly cross beams like her grandma's used to have that she always though was supposed to resemble a butterfly. A heavier, wooden door creaked open as the three figures muddled their way in, and the floorboards protested, as well, at the weight of her captors. So, she thought, not only a farm house, but an old farm house.

"Where do you want her?" the man on her left asked into what she only knew as the void, so far.

"Take her to the cellar. I've got things set up down there." a familiar voice chuckled and growled. How did she know the voice? Was he a patient? She couldn't think of anyone she'd treated that would want her abducted and brutalized.

"You got it, E." Ugh, for some reason it bothered her when guys referred to each other by their first initials. Girls, no big deal. But bros…there was something so thoroughly douchey and…familiar about it all…

"Hold on." the man called "E" said, and she heard footfalls approaching her. As he got closer, she smelled…patchouli and incense…and the sea…and it brought back a rush of pain from past trauma followed by literal pain from his punch to her gut. She hadn't been expecting it. Obviously. The wind had been taken out of her. Literally and figuratively. She did know this man…all too well.

"We've got some catching up to do, sweetheart." the pet name dripped like venomous honey from the tongue of the snake before her.

"Elliot." it wasn't a question. She coughed the name out like a pill that had gone down sideways.

Her escorts continued their transportation of her prone body to its destination…she didn't want to think FINAL destination, but the more she learned about her situation, the more she worried that she wouldn't make it out alive.

They had to get creative in carrying her down the narrow staircase to the cellar. They argued for a moment about who would take the top half and who would go backwards.

"How about the one who takes my top half goes forward and the bottom half goes backward?" These idiots. Where did Elliott find clowns like this who needed to be told by their prisoner the best way to sort out their domestic dispute.

She thought she felt them shrug, and silently take her advice as she felt herself being lowered down the stairs, feet first, panic threatening to overtake her restrained limbs.

When they got to the bottom of the stairs, they stood her up to remove her shroud, and cut the zip ties from around her ankles and wrists. She then noticed a small cell that reminded her of the ones in the sheriff's offices in some westerns she'd seen. She started to freak out, anticipating her future in that horrid place.

"Guys, please. No. Please don't do this. I don't know what Elliott's told you about me, but I'm a good person. I don't deserve this. I have a job and friends and a family who will worry sick about me. I am begging you to let me go. Please!"

"You're wasting your breath, lady." one of the men said, gruffly.

"PLEASE!" she appealed, desperate to get through. "Don't you guys have wives or girlfriends? Mothers, sisters, aunts, or female cousins? What if a woman you cared about was in this situ---" and before she could finish the question, one of the men punched her for what felt like the thousandth time tonight. She fell to her knees, vomiting. And the world went black again.

~~~~~~~

There were no windows. There was no clock. There was just a small twin mattress in one corner of the cell, and a bedside commode in the other. As accommodations went, it was hardly a Hilton, but it could have been worse. It was all lit by a 60-watt bulb in one of those hanging fixtures her dad had always called a trouble light situated on a hook on the side of one of the exposed joists outside the cell. He'd had a similar one for the longest time. He and mom will be worried sick before long, if they aren't already, she thought. The light was aptly named for these circumstances she was in. Trouble. A heap of it. And no idea of how to get out of it.

And honestly, no idea why Elliott would want her here. How he could do such a monstrous thing as having her kidnapped. How he came to live in this place when he never worked a day in his life. She was so confused. She hoped at the very least, he'd give her answers before he murdered her, if that was his plan.

She had woken up on her side, almost her stomach, with her right cheek on the scratchy surface of the bare mattress. Whoever put her to bed had been wise to position her like this given the likelihood that she might puke again. She noticed a small bucket, presumably for that purpose, next to the mattress. There was a caseless pillow next to her head, but she hadn't found that comfort during her nap of…she couldn't tell how long. Not that it mattered. The more she slept, the less time she'd have to process this horror movie she was currently living out.

She heard the door open at the top of the stairs and Elliott shout at one of his flunkies, "What do you MEAN you didn't get her phone?" a pause while indistinct words came from said flunky across the room, or maybe the house. "Well, find it. Tear that piece of shit Explorer apart if you have to. I want that phone." She took exception to her sweet little Norah getting called a piece of shit. That was her Millennium Falcon. And yes, she'd gotten flack for naming her Norah the Explorer, but she didn't care.

Elliott stomped down the stairs, grinning the most infuriatingly happy grin she'd ever seen on him. She wanted to maul him. To tear those stupid eyes out of their sockets with her own fingernails. But she controlled her anger and resisted even acknowledging his greeting of "Hey, sweetheart."

She ignored him.

"It's good to see you."

Silence.

"I missed you."

She stared right through him.

"I heard you and that meat head soldier broke up."

She scowled at him.

"There she is. There's my girl."

"I'm not your girl, Elliott, and I haven't been in years. Why am I here?" She broke. She couldn't take it.

"We'll get to that why soon enough. First, let's talk about why you and Cap'n Crunch are no longer breakfasting together? Soggy cereal? Limp toast? Was he letting you leave the table unsatisfied?"

"As if you ever satisfied me when we were together." She spat back, calling Elliott out on his notorious selfishness in all aspects of life and relationships.

"I've changed."

"Bullshit." she rolled her eyes.

"It's true!" he insisted. "I can give you references."

"I honestly don't give a shit. We're not together. Sy and I are. Happily. And you better let me go soon. He was expecting me at his place after work. He's probably out looking for me right now." she lied. It was worth a shot.

"Now it's my turn to call bullshit, because I know that isn't true." He looked at her with that patronizing stare he had.

"You don't know shit, Elliott."

"I know that your boy took off over a week ago for Virginia and hasn't come back, at least not the way he left. I believe he's supposed to be gone at least a few weeks. Maybe a couple of months. He wasn't sure at last report."

She was literally willing him to burst into flames before her. Her gaze revealed her hand.

"Told ya. You think you're the only one with connections at the fort? I've got me a sweet little sergeant who works in ATC over there. She can out-squat anyone else on base…and let me tell you, it shows." he lifted his eyebrow, lasciviously.

"You disgust me."

"Why? You never seemed to mind my…sexy imagination." he winked at her.

"No, I'm happy that you're getting it good on the regular from an ass that won't quit. But come on. You clearly only got with this girl because you thought it would give you the upper hand against me."

"Well, that's very self-absorbed thinking."

"Really, Elliott? Do you see where we are right now?" they looked around at the dank cellar and he shrugged, unable to deny or rebut. "And this woman. Does she know about this little scheme?"

He gave her one of his more evil grins. "Who do you think kicked you in the tit?" Okay…she was new levels of pissed off now.

"Why…the actual FUCK am I here, Elliott!?"

"Well, Shane, you embarrassed me with that little stunt at the bar a few weeks ago. You thought you were hot shit, parading your sasquatch of a boyfriend around in front of me, in my town, humiliating me as all of my friends watched. And then that dickhead sucker punched me in the parking lot. I shoulda pressed charges. But him being a veteran, I knew how that woulda gone in this town. I didn't have a snowball's chance. So I waited. And I planned. And I was patient. And I watched for my moment. And it finally came. I've been watching you leave work every night for the past week, and you're always with someone, or headed somewhere else, or going straight home. Last night…last night I knew was the night when you didn't leave until after 7. You were the last one out, and I knew that it had to be then. The plan, not that you need to know, is to plaster your social media with humiliating photos, piss off everyone that you love, including your precious Sy, and alienate everyone you've ever cared about until you're miserable and alone."

Shane was crying now. She thought she might be sick again. She reached for the bucket. The delusion of this man thinking that anyone in that bar besides maybe the ones that were there with him that night gave a shit about him. Thinking that the town was his. He was a nobody there. He hadn't grown up there, he didn't work there, he didn't participate in community events. He was kidding himself if he thought anyone cared enough about him that he should feel shame over her relationship with Sy, especially five years after their relationship with each other had ended.

"How's that for a 'why,' sweetheart?" he boasted.

"It's making my ask myself a lot of questions. Like why I ever agreed to go out with you all those years ago. Why I didn't see the signs that you were a psychopath sooner. And why I put up with your terrorism for so long thinking you'd ever really change. I can't believe I ever slept with you, you absolute barbarian." and she heaved into the bucket, non-productively. She hadn't eaten since lunch, and that had to be well over twelve hours ago.

"Well, ya did. And ya can't change the past. But I'm about to take your future into my hands. As soon as we find your phone, we're gonna have us a ball, little girl."

"You honestly think I'll cooperate with any of that?"

"You won't have a choice." he held up a little glass vial. "Morphine. A tiny dose of this stuff, and you'll do anything I tell ya."

"Please. Just let me go now, and I won't press charges. I won't go to the cops, at all. I'll call in to work with a headache, or something and you can live your life with Sergeant Squats and we can leave each other alone."

"A good offer, but I need to get something out of this. I need my pride back."

"And you're gonna get that by dragging me through the mud online from my own Facebook account? Is that really the way you wanna do this? When you could just show me what a great life you've built for yourself. This is a great place here, it seems, I mean, I only smelled it, and felt how big it was while I was getting dragged around the place. But, Elliott, if you had just told me about all this, I would have been happy for you!"

"This place is Sasha's."

"Oh." she grasped for something, anything to make him see how insane he was being without saying the words. "Well, I'd still have been happy for you finding an established woman with a great job. Why couldn't you have just written me a letter telling me that? An email! Something."

"This is how it's getting done, Shane. Because this is the only way that truly ruins your life in the process. Because at the end of all of this, the backlash is going to be too much for you, and you're not going to be able to handle this life anymore…"

"No. Elliott, no."

"Yes. You're gonna take one last hit of the morphine and drive that shitty Ford right into the lake."

"You used to care about art. About beauty. You used to be sensitive. You used to have a soul. What happened, Elliott? What happened to your humanity?" Shane asked, crying, in mourning for the man he used to be. The one that she used to care for.

"I fell in love. And she broke my heart. And nothing has been the same."

"Elliott, I didn't mean to…"

"Oh, fuck, not you, don't be stupid. No, Kara. I met her right after you kicked me out, and SHE broke my heart." he  turned and started up the stairs, pausing to look over his shoulder and say, "I'll be back when I have your phone. And I'll bring friends." before he ascended, shutting the door firmly behind him.

She had never been so relieved to NOT have her phone in her life. Hopefully, her coworkers had it safe and sound, and locked up at work.

Up Next: Chapter 15-Recon

[yourpharma360]

How Ambien Works ?

The Ambien defense was also utilized in the event of Julie Ann Bronson, a flight attendant from Texas.  Bronson took a few Ambien to help her sleep.  She went to bed early, and was drinking wine earlier in the afternoon.  She awakened in jail, still in her pajamas, barefoot and terrified.  She was horrified when she had been told that she had run such as an 18-month-old woman who suffered severe brain damage as a result of the mess.  "It was surreal.  It was just like a bad dream."  In May of 2012, Bronson pleaded guilty to the felonies of intoxication assault and failure to stop and render aid.  "I did the crime but I never planned to do it," she testified.  "I wouldn't hurt a flea.  And if I would have hit on somebody, I'd have stopped and helped.   Ten decades bronson faced, but as a result of this Ambien defense, she will serve six months in prison and have ten years of probation.

What is Ambien 10mg 

It was only in Patrick Kennedy's 2006 middle-of-the-night vehicle accident and explanation to arriving officers that he had been running late to get a vote the eccentric side effects of Ambien began to receive national attention.  Kennedy claimed the sleeping aid had been obtained by him and had no recollection of those events and Buy Ambien Online Overnight .

On March 29, 2009, 45, Robert Stewart, stormed to the Pinelake Health and Rehab nursing home in Carthage, North Carolina and opened fire, killing eight people and wounding two.  Stewart target was his estranged wife, who was employed as a nurse.  She hid in a bathroom and was unharmed.   Though there was evidence that Stewart's actions were premeditated (he allegedly had a target), Stewart's defense team successfully argued that since he was under the effect of Ambien, a sleep aid, at the time of the shooting, he was not in control of his activities.  Instead of the fees Stewart was convicted on eight counts of second-degree murder.  142 -- 179 years was received by him.

Ambien Overdose

As a result of this Schweigert verdict, an attorney used the Ambien defense by asserting his client's arrest had been shifted six months following by the drug's labeling to overturn a 2006 DWI conviction for a New Jersey woman.  The court agreed, stating it would be an"injustice to hold her accountable for the side effects of a popular and readily available medication that she was lawfully prescribed and properly handled." Not many prosecutors will consider the Ambien defense, and its position within criminal rules that are established is tenuous.  It doesn't actually fall under"voluntary intoxication," in which somebody is responsible for their intoxication and some other events that happen as a consequence of that intoxication.  The Ambien defendants took the medication, but they weren't aware they were drugging themselves in a means that could produce anything other.   The defendants knowingly took the medicine, because they're recorded as potential side effects in the information, and also the responses weren't unpredictable.  In the end, there's the"unconsciousness/sleepwalking" defense, where the individual is not responsible for the crime if he did not intentionally cause the sleepwalking or unconsciousness.  So that this defense does not really apply the whole motivation for taking Ambien at the first area is to create unconsciousness.

Ambien 5mg vs Ambien 10mg

After its approval, Ambien Dose rose to dominance in the sleep aid industry.  Travelers declared by it to fight jet lag, and girls, who suffer more insomnia purchased it.  Sanofi, the French manufacturer of Ambien, made $2 billion in earnings in its summit.  In 2007 Ambien's generic version was published, Zolpidem, and in less than $2 a tablet, it remains among the most prescribed medications in the usa, outselling painkillers such as prescription and Percocet strength ibuprofen. Not everyone who engages in bizarre behavior of accepting Ambien as a result ends up in trouble.  And a few people today enjoy the large they get from the drug so much they are willing to miss the blackouts and effects that result.  Recreational users started out taking the drug to treat insomnia, but discovered that if they fought the sleep-inducing effect of the drug, they could get really high.  "It's like having that drink in the pub when you realize you need to go home -- I would combat the pill's effects and stay up, often telling my friends mad things like how to turn the light inside the room in energy, or the way that paintings of forest scenes in their walls were actually drawings of mermaids bathing themselves into blood," writes one young woman whose dependence on Ambien caused increasingly bizarre and alienating behavior.  She continued staying awake regularly until one morning she awakened with a cut and two black eyes across her nose and taking the pill.  Her cushions were bloody, and a stranger was, wrapped in a rug, on her floor and naked.   This situation jarring, was not sufficient to get her to give Ambien up; the high was too good.   It wasn't until she was discovered wandering the Brooklyn streets in the middle of the night, almost nude, that she managed to give it up.

Guideline For Ambien 10mg 

Ironically, you are likely to succeed with the Ambien defense should you injure or kill someone than if you crash into a car or a tree.  DWI laws just need the prosecution to show that the defendant got and was loaded into a vehicle to drive.  There's no requirement.  When someone is hurt, nevertheless, it is up to the prosecutor to demonstrate that the suspect was conscious enough to become guilty of the crime.  It's hard to claim that they have knowledge of their actions, if people on Ambien are behaving in an automatic, or unconscious state.  That's why people prefer Lindsey Schweigert get permits while Donna Neely, that was sleep-driving on Ambien and murdered a mother of 11, was acquitted of vehicular manslaughter. Tiger Woods was also famously associated with Ambien when one of his mistresses claimed that she and the golfer could have"crazy Ambien sex"  Ambien reduces inhibitions and erases memories, an perfect combination for someone who's cheating on his spouse.  The buzz created by the drug seems to boost sex.  One girl described feeling"quite relaxed and sensuous" when she had sex on Ambien.  "I suddenly have floaty energy.  .  I am tired, but lively.  It's almost like I'm at a state.  I could compare it somewhat to weed, but nothing I've done really contrasts, in all honesty."

Ambien is one of the best dose 

Lindsey Schweigert took one Ambien Sleeping Pills  prior to getting into bed at 6pm.  She woke up with no idea how she'd gotten there.  In the following weeks, Schweigert pieced together the events of the night.  She'd gotten out of bed, drawn a tub, and left the house.  After leaving her house she began driving to a local restaurant but crashed shortly.  She was explained by police as glassy-eyed and swaying.   The flipside to Ambien's supposed attributes is the fact that it's becoming increasingly used as a date rape drug.  Actually, the single case of"sleep-sex" that appeared at an 2008 medical journal review of case reports on Ambien-related sleep behaviors involved the Ambien taker being raped.  The identical absence of inhibition together with amnesia which makes it possible for people indulge in behavior that is dishonest, to commit offenses, and also have sex on Ambien is an ideal formulation for a sexual predator.  Ambien is also readily accessible and more widely accessible than rohypnol, the drug related to date rape.

Ambien Overnight 

Schweigert had.  She had never been in trouble with the law and was scared of losing her job and having a criminal record.  Prosecutors initially wanted to inflict a six month jail sentence as well as other punishments, but Schweigert's lawyer contended that Lindsey's bizarre behaviour on the night in question was a result of a drug which cautioned right on the tag that"After taking AMBIEN, you may get up from bed whilst not being completely awake and perform an activity that you do not understand you are doing.   In fact, the attorney argued, Schweigert must have been taken to jail, not to a hospital.  Prosecutors dropped the charges and enabled Lindsey to plead to the lesser charge.  

Shortly Ambien users resisted Sanofi because of eccentric behaviours while.  Based on attorney for the class action suit, Susan Chana Lask, folks were eating things like buttered eggs and cigarettes, complete with all the shells, while under the sway of Ambien.   He blames Ambien, but for lapses in his memory within five decades and an extended period of writer's block.  "...a great deal of my memory is gone.  If you've ever taken Ambien, I don't know, but it's kind of a memory-eraser.  This shit wiped out five decades of my life.  People might tell me stories, and it's like,"I did that?"   Eminem has maintained a few of his writing from this period, confessing to Rolling Stone that"It fucking out me...Letters all down the page -- it was like my hands weighed 400 pounds.  I have that shit.  As a reminder that I don't ever wish to go back."

Final Words

A part of the category of drugs known as hypnotics, ambien, was accepted by the FDA in 1992.  It was designed for short-term use to fight insomnia and was a welcome change in the prevailing sleep aid at the moment, Halcion, which had been implicated in psychosis, suicide, and addiction and had been banned in half a dozen countries.  Ambien works by activating the neurotransmitter GABA and binding it at precisely the exact same place as the benzodiazepines such as Xanax and Valium.  The extra GABA action triggered by the drug inhibits.  To put it differently, the brain is slowed down by it.  Ambien is effective at initiating sleep working within 20 minutes.  Unless it's taken in the release type, it does not, however, have an impact on sustaining sleep.

[wesker20]

Fallen Hero 1.5 Episode 9

Episode 8 Broken Hearts

Bloodmoon Ave. Night

Idiot, that is what Argent was thinking to herself right now. How could she have been such an idiot and let herself be manipulated and lured by a villain. She normally just beat them up and went home. She never chased them, nor did she listen to them, hoping they would keep their word. So why did she made that exception with Mastermind? Why did she even allow herself to believe that it would go any other way? It does not matter, not right now. Right now she would just focus on beating these idiots and think about her stupidity later.

At least things would be over much faster now that several other vigilantes have joined in. Normally she did not like nor cared to be helped by other heroes; never was much of a team player. But in this case, fighting a bunch of goons who could never beat her on their best day by herself is not her idea of fun. So at least with the extra help this fight could be over faster.

She closes the distance to another goon shooting her with a shotgun. With little effort she slaps him away, sending him crashing against a brick wall.

“Nice one,” yells one of the heroes but Argent ignores him. Suddenly she notices a car being lifted and sent her way. She gets ready to dodge but the car stops right before it hits her. She steps aside to see a giant hand grabbing the vehicle and throwing it right back at the attacker: a modded goon. Huh, Argent wondered if they even had modded or boosts by this point. She stares at the giant hand that proceeds to shrink itself and retract back to its owner, an owner dressed in a white and red skintight suit: Red Doll. Argent recognizes her from a month ago when they fought. Red Doll gives her a cold look before jumping back into the fray. Argent rolls her eyes and she too continues the battle.

The Army begin putting up a better fight now, though a little too late Argent considers. Their numbers are dwindling; it will not be much longer before they are all knocked out. That’s when Argent hears it. Not just her, everyone, Army, vigilantes, the crowd that has formed, everyone; a piercing harrowing roar that consumes every thought in her head. Argent covers her ears instinctively like everyone else, but she can still hear it as clear as ever. For a minute everyone paralyzes, the roar never letting up. Argent tries to hold back a scream but not for long as the pain the roar causes overwhelms her. She falls to the ground, still covering her ears in a futile attempt to stop the deafening roar, until it is no more.

Argent pants as she finally realizes that the roar has stopped and stands up to see everyone else doing the same.

“What the hell was that?” one of the heroes asks but no one is capable of answering him. Argent looks to everyone checking up if everyone is alright. Even the Army was hit and they are just as confused and stumbling to their feet as everyone else, so this was no weapon used against the heroes. Argent begins having an idea of what that was, but the prospect scares even her.

And then she feels it; the atmosphere quiets, as if suddenly the air was sucked out of the area. She feels a tingle in her mind, like a small hand rubbing her lightly before moving on, as if she was not the one it wanted.

“Something’s wrong,” a heroine says and the others echo her worry. Argent can’t help but feel the same way. She begins preparing herself to take out her claws when she finally notices the goons are all paralyzed, standing there like statues. She turns around to see more of them doing the same; all of them, paralyzed. Like bodies without a soul, their eyes staring into the distance at nothing in particular.  Almost as if they were in a trance. They look around themselves as if looking for something. One of them raises their handgun slowly, putting it in their mouth. Argent reaches out as fast as she can. Her mouth echoes to yell but no word comes. The sound of a gunshot breaks the heroes out of their confusion. Argent freezes as she stares at the body, blood on its mouth and behind their head. Then she hears another shot, and another and another and another. She turns quickly to see more goons falling, their bodies covering the ground. One of them, the one that Argent slapped away earlier, aims his shotgun to his face and shoots before Argent can reach him. The crowd panics and screams.

“Don’t just stand there! Stop them!” Argent yells at the rest of the heroes. Red Doll is the first to react as she tries to wrap herself around several of the goons but is too late. The heroes try too but it’s an uphill battle. Several of the modded or boosted goons use their own powers against themselves sometimes even hurting some of the heroes in the process. Other goons when separated from their guns bring out knives and other blades to finish the job. Chaos, pure chaos reigns as Argent and the others try their best to stop them. But in the end they were too slow.

Argent stares in shock at the street filled with hundreds of bodies, everyone does, wondering what happened. And then Argent feels the ground shaking and raises her sight just in time to see the building in the distance, crumbling; the same building she saw Mastermind heading to. She does not react as the debris cloud covers her and everyone else and sirens echo in the distance.

           Bloodmoon Ave. Morning

           One would think the morning would feel better than the night. But in this case that would be wrong. Cloudy and cold, no sunlight strong enough to pierce through, lightning echoes but no rain falls; to Julia this is the opposite of how a morning in Los Diablos should feel like but then again this is an unusual day in Los Diablos. She pushes through the crowd, trying to reach the scene of crime; a scene she is not so certain she wants to see. When she heard that something happened in Bloodmoon avenue she did not think much of it until Angie called her and told her what has happened. Instantly Julia put on whatever she could and raced to Bloodmoon, hoping against hope that Argent was mistaken, that this could not have happened. Not again.

           Her hope is destroyed, however, as she arrives. Even the cops with their trucks cannot cover the bloodstained street and the bodies covering it. She shows her plaque and is let in. Many of the heroes are tuckered in small groups talking but the look on their faces says it all: the same look she had when she first saw the effects of the Heartbreak Incident.

           She finally finds Angie, away from the rest, staring into the distance where a building used to be. “Angie…” Julia says but her silver friend does not respond. She taps her on the shoulder but again Argent remains in place. Julia walks around to look at her friend in the face.

           “It just… happened,” Argent begins. “In a moment we were all fighting and the next they were all...”

           “It’s ok,” Julia whispers and puts a hand on Argent’s shoulder. Her friend finally meets her gaze.

           “Was it like this?” she asks. Julia realizes what she is talking about and nods softly. Without any other word, Argent steps aside and walks away leaving Julia to stare at the bloodbath in front of her.

           Apartment – Morning

           You were expecting nightmares when you decided that you had no strength to stay awake even in another body. However it seems the dreams decided that what happened was enough and let you sleep soundly. Still, the good night sleep doesn’t make this morning any easier to digest. What happened, what you did. You were used to controlling people by now, making them do what you wanted and never caring about the consequences. But this… this is different. You did not just control those people, you made them do… You did to them what… she? It? Did to those people years ago. What it did to you.

           So you have been on your computer following the news, seeing what they say. In a perhaps unsurprising move, they did not mentioned the cause of the deaths, only that a massive battle was waged last night with the heroes emerging victorious. Nothing about the Army.

           You close the laptop and begin running the scenario over and over in your head, wondering how did you let it happen. You did not expect Zeta to have recreated the weapon. Hell, he wasn’t even on the fight that night, how he even knew how to make it? Even more, however, you managed to power through its effects. You knew you had grown powerful but not this powerful. And then you did it; you took control of every single goon in that general area and made them… do it. Your range was not as big as heartbreak’s but still, it was big enough. And you even managed to do so selectively. You avoided the heroes, your crew, and the civilians. How? As much as you don’t want to know, you have to find out more, if only to know how not to do it again. The Heartbreak command. Naming it feels dirty, as if you are giving it more legitimacy than it deserves. But you need the name, that way your mind can identify it easier and stop it from using it again. Or at least that’s your hope.

           You shake your head, not wanting to think of the possibilities. What you need now is to figure out where Zeta is. He has no army now; any surviving goon will not want to face you after what just happened. So in his position, what would you do? If you did not have a backup plan you would try to come up with a new one. But even if you did, you would lay low for a while trying to hide from the person after you. But where? Somewhere familiar? Somewhere where you would feel safe? You have to find out what that place is soon, otherwise Zeta might strike back with something bigger; and dangerous. Not only that but he has a weapon that can disable powers. You are going to have to find out a way to protect yourself against that. Even with your armor it took you down, so that means it bypasses the armor; or maybe it covers you in a field.

           You are half of a mind to ask Mortum, but you are not sure if you want to let her know it exist, just on the very, keyword being very, off chance she doesn’t know.

           “So what you’re going to do when you find him?” you hear her voice again. You don’t bother to look over your shoulder to know it’s Jane, or at least some sort of version of her your mind has conjured up. You sigh and stand up, ignoring whatever she says. “Hey, asshole. I asked you a question. After you find him, then what?” you try your best to ignore her but her nagging can be surprisingly infuriating. You wonder how she can be more annoying than Ortega.

           “What do you mean?” you say finally turning to her. It’s strange. She is strange. On the one hand, she looks, moves, and behaves as you do while in her body. However there is an edge to her that you do not see while possessing her. A sinister aura that scares you whenever you look at her.

           “I mean silly, what are you going to do when you find him? Beat him up until he says sorry and promises never to do it again?” You do not answer that. You don’t know how to answer. “Surprise! I doubt that is going to work. There’s only one way to make sure he never interferes again.”

           “Shut up,” you tell her and turn your back to her.

           “Oh please. Get off of that high horse of yours. You are villain now, remember?”

           “I have limits.” You hear her laugh hysterically.

           “Oh give me a break. You beat up your ex-girlfriend to a bloody pulp and then had the balls to go visit her in the hospital. You’ve been lying to the good doctor for months and then you call her a friend. You killed a hero in cold blood and now you are befriending his girlfriend. As far as I’m concerned there’s no limits you can’t cross.”

           “May I remind you that you are the one befriending those last two,” you shoot back, though you regret saying it almost immediately after.

           “No, I’m just the face. You are the one living in fantasy land.”

           “I’m not killing him,” she chuckles again at your words.

           “Oh please. You already killed at least thirty people. And with a great move I might add.”

“No,” you whisper.

           “Yes. You liked that, didn’t you?”

           “No.”

           “You loved it when they were ready to take any command you gave them.” you shake your head. “You loved the feeling of knowing their lives were in your hands.”

           “Shut up.”

           “You even gave it a name.”

           “Enough.”

           “Admit it, you don’t fear it, you want it.”

           “Enough!” you finally yell, turning away from her. She chuckles.

           “I don’t know why you are getting so worked up. It’s not like I’m belittling you or anything. I simply want you to consider your options.” Her voice is now closer to your ear. “Think about it. We are barely off the ground. And just like you told your crew, things will only get worse from here on out. If you let him live, he will haunt you. And little by little your enemies will accumulate, and then there will be too many of them for you to stop. Zeta needs to die.” You feel a hand over your shoulder. A gloved hand. “and then we can continue with our job,” Mastermind’s voice echoes in your head and you turn around in one move but no one is there.

           You shake your head; you need to wake up from whatever this is. You need to get out of here. You lie down on your bed and let your mind go blank, your consciousness slips and in a second you are now in Jane’s body.

           Gym – 9:00am

           As you walked to the gym you kept checking to see if she appeared again. Or him. Neither of your alter egos appeared but you are still uneased.

           As you enter you find a familiar young woman hitting the bag as if it owed her money.

           “Angry again?” you ask her as you pass by her.

           Emily turns to you with a chuckle. “Something like that,” she says in almost a whisper. Defeated.

           “I’ll go change and we can talk then,” you tell her and she gives you a nod.

           Minutes later you are in your gym gear and begin sparring with her, giving her some lessons on her stance and her modus of attack. “So what’s up? You look downer than usual”

           “It’s not- I just… Did you see the news?” you frown a little. Realizing where she is heading.

           “I did. Fun battle that must have been, right?” you say.

           “Yeah…” she whispers. You stare at her while sparring wondering what is bothering her. And the answer hits you.

           “You were there?” you say, more as a comment than a question. She looks at you with shame and nods. You mentally face palm yourself. You did not sense her. And you probably missed others too. Stupid. What if she had been affected? Or any of the other heroes? You knew it. It is too dangerous to use. One slip up and you could end up killing someone without meaning to. “So what happened? It sounded like it was a mess but the news weren’t very clear,” you say. Not for any curiosity, but because if Jane suddenly went quiet it may raise suspicion on Emily.

           “Yeah. I noticed that too and… well…” you can see her tense up, fists tighten, and her face twitches. “I can’t believe they are hiding it.”

           Welcome to the real world. “Hide what?” you say. She snaps back into reality at the sound of your voice.

           “Oh. I was… uh…”

           You cut her off before she continues. “You know we have established how bad at lying you are, right?” she chuckles a bit and nods.

           “It’s just… things did not went as smoothly as the news portray it.”

           “Really? What was it like then?” you ask. She breaths in and begins telling you about what she was doing last night. She was patrolling the streets when she stumbled onto a crowd of other heroes. They were discussing a commotion going on at Bloodmoon ave. She became interested once she heard that Mastermind was spotted at the scene and joined the group. When they arrived there was a massive battle going on between members of The Army of Mastermind and several vigilantes including Argent. The battle was hard fought surprisingly, as the Army turned out to having boosts and mods in their ranks. The police arrived to contain the situation and keep the civilians away from the battle. Everything was going well until the mind piercing roar. Your telepathic roar. Soon after she felt as if something was going on but could not quite understand what. Then it happened.

           “We tried to stop them. But somehow they found ways to… to…” she stumbles on her words and you stop her with a hand on her shoulder. “It was them. Mastermind. I’m sure of it.” You both sit as you continue your conversation.

           “How do you figure?” you ask.

           “They are a telepath. That much has been established. I’ve been investigating.”

           You begin to shake in your mind. What else has she found out? “What else?”

           “Not much else. Though I have heard some rumors…”

           “What rumors?” You snap. She closes the distance between the two of you and whispers.

           “Some heroes said that something similar happened some years ago. Almost exactly the same apparently. I don’t have the details, but apparently many people died, even heroes.” You try not to gulp as she speaks of that day.

           “So what does that have to do with what happened at Bloodmoon?”

           “Well, it made me wonder what if- what if that was Mastermind too, or what if they had something to do with that too?”

           Oh no. You mentally face palm yourself again. Of course this would happen too. “What do you mean?” you say playing the ignorant friend.

           “What if Mastermind has been operating for far longer than some months?” you hope your nervousness is not showing right now. Otherwise she would put two and two together and that would be a bigger problem. And of course there’s Ortega and Steel. Both of them will most likely think the exact same thing that she does. Great.

           “If that’s the case, then that means that they are much more powerful than people think.”

           “Yes, probably,” she says nonchalantly. It surprises you how quick she went from shaking to focus mode.

           “What do you mean probably?” you say, setting the stage for the exchange to come. She looks at you with confusion. “This guy is a telepath powerful enough to make people kill themselves. And you are going after them because…?”

           “I’m a hero, remember? It’s what we do,” she shrugs off.

           “Yes. I’ve also seen heroes who know when they are outmatched.” She stares at you with what you can only interpret as hidden anger and acknowledgement.

           “I’m not outmatched,” she says coldly.

           “They are a telepath. And they did that. What do you have against them? You can stretch?” A gross oversimplification but still driving the point home. And she does have something against you. Her ridiculously difficult to read mind. Still something tells you she would not survive the command either.

           “I can’t give it up,” she finally says and stands up.

           “Why?” you ask as you do too and follow her.

           “Because I can’t, ok? I just can’t.”

           “Liar. What is it?” she does not answer but you know she is reaching her limit. So you decide to push. “Emily. Emily,” you begin but she cuts you off. You prepare for the explosion of emotion.

           “They killed him, ok!” she practically yells as she turns to you. You are glad the gym is empty at the moment. “The hero they killed, he was my boyfriend,” she continues as she stares down at the mat. “I told him that we needed to go big, to get some top villains. When I saw what Mastermind did to the Rangers I thought that was our chance. But the day we set to investigate I got sick and had to stay at home. I told him to go, I told him there was no way he was going to stumble onto them. And I was wrong. He did stumble onto Mastermind, and now he’s dead…”

           You take a step closer, putting a hand on her shoulder. She calms down a bit. Not entirely, but enough. “I’m sorry. I didn’t meant…”

           “It’s ok. I… I shouldn’t have blown up on you like that. It’s just… I need a break.” you nod and let her walk away. She changes and gives you a soft farewell before leaving. You doubt there’s more you can do. Shit, you need a break.

           Hideout – afternoon

           It’s been a while since the crew has seen Jane so you decide it is time they did again. Especially after what happened, they need someone who’s face they have seen a dozen times, a friendly face, Jane’s face. Not the guilty, downed face of Jeremy. You are half expecting to only find a couple of them but you are surprised to see all of them here.

           “Jane,” you hear Rosie greet you as she appears in your view

           “What’s up, Rosie. Everything alright?” you ask. She simply nods a bit and pulls you off to somewhere more private. You can feel all of their sights on you.

           “Listen, did you spoke with… him?” you can practically see the fear in her.

           You sigh and nod. They haven’t exactly shared what they think but you can tell they are undecided about you. Or rather Mastermind.

           “Are they nervous?” you ask. She nods.

           “A bit. Pelayo is more or less fine. Ward is hard to know. Zaza has been shaking all day long and Nehal has been hitting the bag for hours now.” You nod to her and walk towards them. Pelayo meets you halfway through.

           “Ma’am,” he says.

           “It’s alright Pelayo. No need to be so formal.”

           “Aren’t you going to call a debriefing,” he asks.

           “No. I just came to check up on you guys.” Silence fills up the place for a few seconds as you stare at one another. “I spoke with him. He wanted to be here but, some things interfered.” He nods and returns to the gym section of the hideout. You look at the others as they each exercise. Pelayo and Ward prepare to spar, Zaza shoots some bottles, and Nehal is still hitting the bag as if her life depended on it. All of them are coping, you can tell that much. They are not sure, but they don’t want to leave, or maybe they are not certain of the consequences of leaving.

           The sounds of glove hitting bag echoes in your head as you approach Nehal, her eyes solely focused on it. “How are you doing Nehal.”

           “Fine Ma’am.”

           You stare at her as she continues her barrage. You try but you fail to keep your opinion to yourself. “You are putting too much pressure on your punches. That will simply tire you out faster.” She stares at you as if doubting you. She opens her mouth to say something but stops just as it is about to come out. “Remember,” you continue, “the strength of your punches come from your stance, not your arms. Having great upper body strength is a good bonus, but is not the end all be all. Here, watch me.” You show her your stance and she imitates you. In short order she is throwing better punches than she was used to, and you can see the satisfaction in her face.

           Zaza almost stumbles when he hears you come. “oh hi ma’am. What’s up?”

           “You know I wish we could stop that Ma’am stuff. I may be your boss but seriously.”

           “Well, do you have an alternative?” you think about it but you come up with nothing. You don’t want them to call Jane by her name yet. You don’t feel you are on that level with them yet. And to be honest, you are not even sure you should.

           “So, how’s the aiming?”

           “eh, it’s fine. Honestly I could shoot these bottles blindfold. It’s not much practice, more like a hobby by this point.”

           “Would it help to get a better shooting range?” He thinks about it for a few seconds before nodding shyly. “I’ll see what we can do. To be frank, I think it’s time for a change in scenery.”

           “Are you- Are you sure that’s a good idea. I mean- will he accept it?” you hear the fear in his tone, the stumbling of words, the doubt.

           “It’s alright. I’m sure he will understand the need of it,” you turn to leave but you stop at the sound of his voice.

           “Did you know him? Under the mask I mean?” you turn to him giving him a quizzical look. You know he is not really talking about if Jane knew what Mastermind looked like. He is actually asking if Jane knew what Mastermind was capable of. And who he is. You nod.

           “I did. I also know who’s after them.”

           Mortum’s lab

           You are starting to wonder if Mortum’s lab is a like a second house to you now. You spend almost as much time here as you do outside. In all honesty, you could stay here all week long. Better than be at your apartment thinking.

           “Something bothering you Ma cherié?”

           “Nah it’s nothing. Just thinking.” You sip your drink as you look somewhere else. Nowhere else.

           “Does it has to do with your job?” she says as she sits in front of you on the other side of the table.

           You nod. “Yeah, things just got a lot more complicated.” That’s one word for it. Shit storm would be another.

           “What happened?”

           “I’m sure you’ve heard.”

           “Ma cherié I may have my contacts but I don’t pay attention to every single little thing that happens around here. I got better things to do than gossiping,” she says pretending to be offended.

           “Let’s just say my boss little mission went… not completely right. Something happened.” Mortum stares at you with genuine curiosity. You consider your options. Do you trust her enough to tell her? “What do you know of powers disabling weapons?” you blurt out.

           “More expensive to create than power dampeners.  Power dampeners alone require enormous energy reserves. That’s why boosts prisons has such big generators. Fitting that into a gun would be next to impossible. That’s without adding the fact that it is impossible.” She says with a mixture of curiosity and dismissal.

           “What do you mean?”

           “Dampeners disable powers by overwhelming the boost’s special organs with a certain signal. I don’t know the specifics but what I do know is that the signal only works for a couple of seconds. That’s why dampeners need to be on all the time, so they continue sending the signal.”

           “That sounds surprisingly inconvenient,” you say genuinely surprised.

           “We don’t even know how the drug changes the body, let alone how to disable it. The truth is powers become a part of the hero as much as any other part, like a limb. Your body changes on a cellular level. Try to imagine how hard to disable something like that is. Now imagine how hard it is to fit all of that into a gun?”

           You keep silent, thinking. Then she speaks again.

           “Though I did heard a rumor about a prototype that did exactly that. But the specifics elude me. Last I heard, it was too expensive and the only prototype was stolen long ago.” You almost snap at that. So Zeta did not recreate the weapon, he merely stole it and probably adapted it to his suit.

           “What about powering through the effects of such a weapon?” At that Mortum looks at you with a knowing smile, almost as if expecting you to know the answer.

            “Machines are like people Ma cherié. They have limits. The powers of a boost on the other hand, do not. Like I said we still have no idea how exactly the drug works. If the boost is powerful enough, they can overwhelm the dampeners and the effects of such a weapon. Imagine a bodybuilder being tied with some straps that are barely strong enough to hold them. Now imagine that after pushing for a couple of minutes the bodybuilder manages to break through the straps. That is what happens between a dampener and a boost.”

           “Why don’t we hear more stories of boosts breaking through the dampeners?” you wonder out loud.

           “Because most boosts are lazy, Ma cherié. They get super powers and think they have all the power in the world and have no need for more. If the majority of them focused on practicing I imagine we would have more boosts escaping the prisons.” She says non chalant as she heads back to the center of her lab to work on something.

           “Interesting,” you say and take another sip, staring at your reflection in a far off mirror.

Episode 10 MIA

[fallinnflower]

fated

the8 x reader (soulmate!au, college!au, angst/fluff)

word count: 4,681

a/n: originally written as a birthday gift for the amazing @smeunjipark​ ! thank u for letting me post this to tumblr AND for being an amazing friend uwu ily

The morning of his eighteenth birthday, Minghao wakes up feeling surprisingly average. 

He isn’t sure what’s supposed to change, really — soulmate manifestations are sometimes immediate, like the appearance of a soul mark, or the entire world’s color desaturating — but for a long moment he remains in bed, staring with anticipation up at the ceiling. 

In his peripheral, he can see that his walls are still the same blue they’ve been since he was a child, so he rules that out, and closes his eyes.

He’s heard of soulmates that can share thoughts with each other, so he squeezes his eyes shut tighter and concentrates on making his mind go completely blank, until the only thought that rings out is a clear, somewhat timid,

Hello?

He waits. He keeps his eyes shut and bites the inside of his cheek until it hurts, and then he gives up with a loud, impatient sigh. He may have waited eighteen years, but suddenly the mere minutes he’s been awake feel like an eternity. His arm is draped over his forehead, all the excitement he had felt last night that kept him from falling asleep seeming to seep out of him, leaving a cold, leaden weight in his stomach. Somehow, he thought everything would change today — with the way everyone talks about soulmates, he imagined it must be such a monumental change that he would have to feel it. 

Instead, he feels nothing. He’s just the same; still Xu Minghao, just a year older.

And then, suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, he sees something. It’s gone the moment he blinks, but he knows it was there — a quick flash of color. He turns his head to see it better, in case it returns, trying his hardest not to blink so he won’t miss it.

The red string floats gently into his field of vision, and he bolts upright, holding his hands out in front of him. There, on his left pinky, is a tiny knot of red thread, trailing away towards his window and disappearing into the distance. His sheets seem to tangle around his legs as he stumbles out of bed, all his dancer’s grace lost as he flings open his window and leans out, extending his hand and staring down the length of the string until he has to strain his eyes to see it.

Squinting into the sunlight on the morning of his eighteenth birthday, Minghao draws his hand back into the confines of his room, and laughs.

His entire eighteenth birthday is spent distractedly, despite being home for the weekend. He just can’t stop staring at the thread on his pinky (which is entirely intangible, he’s found), watching it sway in even the most minute breeze, and wondering where his soulmate is. Can they see it yet? Where are they? In a way, he’s almost sad that he doesn’t have a gift that allows him to speak to his soulmate, or know anything about them, but just the thought of meeting them one day is enough to boost his spirits.

His friends laugh when he tells them about it.

“It’s so traditional,” Jun laughs, but out of habit his fingers push the sleeve of his sweatshirt up to touch the soulmate mark on his inner wrist. Minghao slugs him in the shoulder, but he isn’t at all offended, both of them grinning wide enough to hurt their cheeks. 

He goes to his classes on Monday, still walking on air, and Soonyoung doesn’t even let him put his bag down in the dance room before he’s grabbing Minghao’s hands and turning his arms over, lifting them up and searching for the string. Chan slowly appears at his side, peering around his shoulder to look at Minghao’s himself. 

“Where is it?” Soonyoung whines, and Jun snickers as he brushes past the trio lingering by the doorway.

“Only soulmates can see the red string of fate, you know that,” Jun says airily, and Soonyoung freezes for a moment before dropping Minghao’s hands with a sheepish smile. His ears are just the faintest bit red at the tips as he shrugs,

“I knew that.” Chan just smiles at Minghao, but he can tell the youngest feels a little left out, now the only one out of the four of them to still be disconnected from his soulmate. Minghao imagines it must be hard, practicing dance with them while still being in his last year of grade school, watching them grow without him. Minghao slings an arm around his shoulder, and they walk to the far wall to drop their bags and start stretching.

He hopes Soonyoung will be the weirdest encounter he’ll have today, but knowing his friends, he can only muster up a wry smile at the thought of what’s to come. It’s going to be a long day.

It goes better than expected, actually, with the only further incidents proving to be Jeonghan smiling at him in a fashion that can only be described as motherly and smoothing down his hair, and Seungkwan shoving Hansol out of the way to congratulate Minghao first and ask him what it’s like.

“It feels the same,” Minghao says, and Seungkwan pouts as if Minghao is holding out on him. Vernon laughs at him, and it redirects his attention long enough that Minghao can glance down at his string. 

Somehow, even though it’s been more than a day, the sensation hasn’t gotten old; his heart still gives an extra little thump every time he sees it. 

He wonders how long it will take to find them, whoever they are. He imagines he's going to be thinking about that a lot from now on, considering he can't hide this the way Jun hides his mark. 

A smile splits across his face, and the day goes on as usual.

But days turn into weeks, into months, until summer is approaching and the string has become nothing short of ordinary; in fact, he forgets it exists more often than not, now. It’s probably for the best, really, since it’s no longer a distraction in the middle of his classes. In the midst of finals, Minghao finds himself more preoccupied by books and notes and study groups than thoughts of his soulmate. 

The same can't be said for Jun, however. 

His best friend happens to meet his soulmate in the most rom-com-worthy scene Minghao could imagine — and really, nobody is too surprised by it. She works at the library, and Jun happened to be leaving one of Seungcheol's parties as she was locking up one night. It was raining, her hands were full — she tripped off the last step and stumbled right into Jun's arms. 

Jun didn't get back to the dorm until three hours later that night, having asked his newfound soulmate out for ramen, and then called in to work the next morning because he couldn’t stop texting her late into the night. 

Minghao hadn't met her yet, but he was sure that once finals wrapped up he'd be seeing her constantly.

The summer months are spent mostly indoors, working at a recreational center where he teaches classes — everything from dance to self defense — and lifeguarding when they end up severely short-staffed. There are worse jobs he could be doing, he thinks, though some days he gazes out the windows of the facilities and wishes he could just fly away. 

Despite his best efforts, he can’t suppress the hope that wells up every day, the thought that he might meet his soulmate. He won’t admit it aloud, but part of the reason he agreed to work a job with such a high volume of people coming in and out every day was the idea that maybe, just maybe, his soulmate might walk through those big glass doors and straight into his life.

Unfortunately, fate seems to want to make things hard for him, and so the red string remains just as infinite as ever.

Jun’s soulmate is nice, and absolutely perfect for him, and it makes Minghao feel simultaneously better and worse. Better, because it gives him hope, and makes him excited. Worse, because he’s bitter, and Jun is his best friend, which makes the pit in his stomach grow.

“Cheer up,” Jun likes to tell him when he’s in one of his moods, usually throwing his arms around Minghao in a way that is almost violent. “Your soulmate is worth it, trust me.”

He can’t help but smile, whenever Jun says that.

The start of his second year in university comes as a welcome relief, because he has more distractions — classes are ramping up, he has a better position on the dance team and Soonyoung’s smaller group is gaining popularity amongst the student body (especially with Chan finally officially joining), and with his job on campus as a personal trainer he really has very little free time. With everything going on, he nearly forgets all about his desire to find his soulmate.

Until Joshua suddenly meets his, and it throws him for a loop all over again.

He remembers, distinctly, the exact moment it happened. He was sitting with Joshua and Jeonghan and Chan in an empty classroom, studying together for separate classes. Josh had been in the middle of writing something when they all suddenly heard a blast of music — unintentional, obviously, as it was paused quite suddenly — from down the hall. Except, when the rest of them heard silence, Joshua bolted up out of his seat, nearly upending the desk.

“Everything okay, Josh?” Chan asked, and Jeonghan had smiled knowingly, barely lifting his gaze from his Biology textbook.

“It’s his soulmate,” Jeonghan said, and Joshua nodded, stunned, and Jeonghan had laughed and pushed at his back. Minghao’s heart sunk just a little, even as he saw a smile bloom across everyone else’s faces.

“Go find them, then.”

And he had.

Minghao feels guilty getting jealous of Josh, because he knows that he’s waited a long time, longer than Minghao, but he still wishes he knew his soulmate. Ever since he turned eighteen, it’s felt like there was something missing, and he hates it. Everyone reassures him that his time will come soon, but he can’t help but be self-conscious.

However, it’s because of this that he starts to pay more attention to his string — and, because of that, notices the fact that it’s changing. Not in form, or color, but in its tension; his soulmate, at times, appears to be drawing closer, even though he can’t see them.

It makes his heart leap up into his throat the first time he sees it, and he can’t help but pay even more attention after that.

But it takes two weeks for anything to really happen — and he almost wishes nothing had.

The paths through campus are full of students trying to savor the last vestiges of summer warmth, walking to or from dinner or just as a break from studying. The leaves are slowly turning gold, and the lamps scattered intermittently along the paths as the sun is setting make the whole campus look more like a movie set than a real place.

Minghao, personally, is in a bit of a rush (Soonyoung’s dance practices are brutal, and he’s not in the mood to do extra work for being late because he has a paper to write tonight), barely paying attention to where he’s going.

“I swear, sometimes I think these professors—” Jun’s statement is interrupted by Minghao bumping into him, trying to avoid being hit by a girl who happened to be nearly run over by a cyclist. His hands end up on her shoulders, holding her steady and out of danger, as he shoots the cyclist a dirty look they don’t catch. 

“So much for staying on the right side of the path,” he thinks he hears her mumble, before she’s suddenly turning towards him, pulling away.

“Sorry,” she says, hurriedly, bowing her head, and disappears quickly into the crowd.

Minghao can’t help but stare after her, heart lodged strangely in his throat, feeling nervous for a reason he can’t place. She had pretty eyes, he thinks, but that’s all he really noticed. 

“Hey, you okay?” Jun asks, tugging at his arm to keep him moving, and—

“No,” Minghao breathes, catching sight of his hand.

The string is gone.

“What?” Jun asks, “What do you mean it’s gone?” Minghao doesn’t comprehend whether he’s thinking or speaking aloud, looking frantically backwards to try and see her —  his soulmate — again, but she’s long gone. Everybody keeps moving, Jun included, trying to tug him out of everyone’s way, and Minghao feels like he can’t breathe.

He hadn’t even been paying attention to what she looked like, he barely saw her, the only thing he can remember is that she had eyes that sparkled in the most cliché way, and now she’s gone.

Jun drags him off to practice, but Soonyoung sends him home after he nearly stumbles into one of the mirrors, distraught and unfocused.

He finally met his soulmate, but he has no clue who she is.

You know who your soulmate is, and you have for the past two hours.

You hadn’t realized it immediately — you had been more concerned with getting to your meeting with the advisory board on time than checking to see if you’d met your soulmate after almost getting run over by a bicyclist — but the moment you could finally relax, you saw it.

Or, rather, you didn’t see it.

After getting your plan for your major approved by the board, you had immediately gone to your room and flopped down onto your bed, exhausted after the anxiety of the afternoon. However, that plan didn’t last long, as the absence of your soulmate sign instantly sent you into a tailspin.

You thought through the events of the day, and realized there was only one person it could be — one person you met that you hadn’t ever met before, and who had, coincidentally, made physical contact with you.

Your soulmate is Xu Minghao, and the thought alone is terrifying.

Minghao is more popular than he probably realizes, and definitely more popular than you. Soonyoung’s dance team is legendary, despite being a bit more underground in terms of appearances — and you know all about them, thanks to your friend being a dance major who simultaneously happens to be one of their biggest fans. And, her personal favorite member of the troupe? The insanely talented, highly attractive sophomore, Xu Minghao.

You wonder how you didn’t notice before, but she has all the answers for you immediately after a small freak out over the phone — Minghao’s eighteenth birthday occurred in November, and you left to study abroad for your second semester just after the winter break. Your birthday wasn’t until July, and so you hadn’t seen the string yet.

You had missed him, barely, and it just felt all the more frustrating knowing you had missed him again.

“Go to one of his performances!” Your friend suggested, and at the time you had shook your head at her over FaceTime and pressed your arm over your eyes. You could feel a headache coming on, like the world was spinning too fast around you, and you suddenly just wanted to sleep.

“I-I can’t think about this right now, I need… I need to take a minute.” She had pursed her lips, and had only agreed to let you go under the condition that you two talk about it in the morning.

And yet, thirty minutes later, here you are, unable to relax at all. Her suggestion rings through your head, and you try to imagine how it might go, approaching someone like him out of nowhere and claiming you’re his soulmate.

It’s daunting, but you find yourself pulling up the university event calendar anyways—

It’s going to be a long two days until that performance.

He sees you.

You don’t know it, but he does. You go to the recital, wearing a little more makeup than usual and the cutest outfit you can wear without looking overdressed — and when the moment comes, you choke.

Because he may be your soulmate, but he’s also Xu Minghao, and he dances like nothing in the world could stop him and looks beautiful doing it, and you can barely manage a simple waltz. He’s beautiful, and talented, and amazing, and you two are so different that you can’t help but wonder if he’ll even believe you when you tell him. How on earth could Fate see this as an even match?

You almost wish you had asked your friend to come with you, because when the performance ends you’re already so nervous you can feel your arms shaking, and then you see the crowd around Soonyoung’s team.

There’s so many people, all vying for their attention, and you can’t seem to make yourself move — all you can do is stare at Minghao and try and force yourself to breathe— 

It isn’t working, and so you bolt before you can fall into full-out panic, and spend the night crying angrily in your dorm room while your friend tries to comfort you.

He sees you, but, for the second time, you missed your chance.

He sees someone. Standing at the edge of the crowd, not coming but not going, looking stiff. He isn’t always the fan favorite, and usually it’s Hoshi who tends to be regarded with this sort of tension and anxiety, but now it’s Minghao. As soon as he can spare a moment, he glances up to try and get their attention, maybe to wave—

But the moment he finds them, they turn to leave, except they aren’t just anyone — it’s her, it’s you, his soulmate, walking away from him again.

Minghao feels as though he has tunnel vision, suddenly, and he starts towards you as you bolt out the door only to be stopped by the audience members still surrounding him, trapping him. He feels helpless, desperate and spinning out of control, just like the last time he saw you. He turns his head to find Jun, or anyone, to ask them for help—

And then, suddenly, it hits him: 

His soulmate just ran away from him. The thought alone makes him feel sick to his stomach.

He goes back to his dorm that night and stares up at the ceiling, unable to sleep, running his fingers over the space on his pinky where his string should be, and trying desperately not to cry.

Even time can’t seem to make him feel much better about it, in all honesty, but midterms are rapidly approaching and Minghao is too concerned with keeping tabs on his studies and his roommate’s health to think much about it. The testing comes as a welcome relief for him, though at times he finds himself glancing down at his hand and his stomach drops at the empty space that greets him.

He thinks about all the time he spent waiting on his soulmate, and it makes him sad. But, somehow, he doesn’t feel bitter. Fate works in mysterious ways, and he’s certain his soulmate has a reason, big or small, for not approaching him. Frustrating as it is, Minghao turns back to fate the way he always has, and simply trusts the universe to sort things out.

It’s really all he can do.

You still feel guilty every time you think about that dance performance, a pit growing in your stomach. It took you days to simply get yourself back to eating regularly, swallowing your own bundled nerves so that you could fuel yourself during your study sessions. Most days you spent either in class or locked in a study room (the one with the most sunlight, so you didn’t go completely insane), determined to prove through examinations that the advisory board made the correct decision in approving your major proposal. 

Although you feel bad, you simply don’t have time to dwell on it; though, sometimes, you think of Minghao and think it’s a pity he’s stuck with such a busybody for a soulmate. Too busy and too anxious to approach him.

You lose some sleep over the thought, but eventually you push down your emotions enough to rest, and life goes on as usual.

Luckily for the both of you, fate does happen to plan for everything, and on a blustery Friday evening when Minghao ought to be studying, he finally finds you. 

He actually only leaves the dorms for Jun and Jeonghan’s sake, as the both seem on the verge of collapse when he leaves. They’ve both been working hard at studying, but they’re also both too tired from it to move. Minghao had only left when Seungcheol pressed some money into his hand and practically begged him with his big, puppy dog eyes to go get them some coffee.

And now, here he is, waiting for a nine-drink order (he’s grateful it isn’t the usual thirteen, really, especially because Seungkwan always has the most extravagant orders and he doesn’t have the patience for it, and Jihoon is just a terror; Hansol and Soonyoung just happen to be busy, which is also fine with him) and scrolling idly through his phone. He likes a picture of Joshua and his soulmate that comes through his feed, closing the app when his name is called, only to crash directly into someone.

After studying for days on end, it can’t be said that you’re in your best state of mind. You had moved to the cafe to study in the hopes that a change of scenery would up your spirits, but all it had led to was you consuming a copious amount of coffee, and highlighting more and more pages in your notes.

It happened as you were carrying your third refill away from the station with sugar packets and milk — out of nowhere, someone suddenly stepped into your path, causing you to collide with them. You placed your hand up around the rim of your mug as a barrier, stumbling directly into the mysterious person’s chest as the coffee scorched your hand. You couldn’t help but let out a hiss at the pain, and looked up, fully prepared to give whoever this guy was a piece of your mind—

“Oh my god,” you say, instead, because the person holding you steady is none other than your soulmate himself, the same as when you first met him, and you cannot believe this is happening today of all days, and like this of all ways. He just keeps staring, and you scramble to form a coherent sentence past the lump in your throat, uncertain of what to do with your hands, or your eyes, or your legs turned to jelly because of the intensity of his gaze.

“I— oh my god, I’m so sorry, wow, this, um,” you pause and take a deep breath, carefully extricating yourself from his grasp to bow your head. “I’m really sorry, you didn’t get any on your clothes, did you?”

When he doesn’t reply at first, you lift your gaze from inspecting his shirt to meet his eyes, which are still intensely focused on your face.

“Um, I can—”

“You,” he breathes, and the word alone is enough to send a shiver down your spine. You feel yourself stiffen, the grip on your mug tightening, and you wince slightly at the stinging in your palm.

“It’s you,” he says, and suddenly he’s close to you again, close enough you can feel the warmth radiating off of his chest and onto your skin. It’s then, you realize, that he knows — that maybe he’s known the whole time, and you’ve just been dodging each other — and under his eyes you can’t help but feel nervous, aware of every stray strand of hair falling from your bun and the spot on your cheek that had cropped up just this morning from stress. You feel your cheeks grow hot, and you find yourself looking down, wishing you could sink into the floor. 

“I’m sorry, I know I should have said something sooner, I just— I was too nervous to talk to you, because you’re you, and I know it sounds stupid but—”

“It doesn’t matter,” he interrupts, and you lift your head to meet his gaze. He’s smiling now, and there’s such a tenderness in his gaze that it makes you feel like you could melt. It’s almost as though you’re the only girl he’s ever seen, or the only one he’s ever cared to see, and your heart skips a beat seeing the way his eyes reflect his happiness.

“It doesn’t matter, because I’m finally meeting you,” he continues, and then, shaking his head slightly, as if to wake himself from a daze,

“Your hand, is it okay?”

“What?” You ask, still lost in his eyes. He laughs and it melts your heart, warmth spilling out from your chest all the way down to your toes.

“You spilled coffee on your hand, let me see.” You do, and you try not to wince when his finger grazes over the most sensitive patches of skin. It doesn’t look terrible, just faintly red, but when you try to close your hand it hurts — taking notes suddenly seems like a daunting task, and you can’t help but grimace. 

“You should put your hand under some water, just not too cold. Then it should be fine,” he says, but his smile alone seems to take away all the pain. Minghao lets go of your hand, taking your mug from you and setting it on the counter.

You realize this is his way of telling you to go take care of your hand now, and so you gesture to the table in the corner you’ve been occupying for the last two hours, 

“Um, my stuff is there, so…” He nods, laughing again, and you excuse yourself before you can make even more of a fool of yourself.

When you emerge from the bathroom, Minghao is nowhere in sight, but the mug on your table is refilled, and under it is a napkin bearing the message:

Sorry I had to run. Promise I’ll make it up to you ;)   your soulmate (xxx)-xxx-xxxx

You press your hands to your face, trying to simultaneously hide and cool your blush, before taking out your phone to text Minghao.

Fate works in mysterious ways; this, he knows, is a fact. He casts yet another glance in your direction, unable to keep the smile off of his face. You look up, as if you can feel his gaze on you, and you smile, too; the blush that had appeared so readily on your first official meeting is less prominent now, but nevertheless present, and Minghao can’t help but smile a little wider every time he sees it, knowing he’s the cause.

“What?” You ask, and Minghao simply shakes his head, reaching out to grab your hand from across the table.

“Nothing,” he says, resting his chin in his other palm, still looking up into your face. “Just thinking about how Jun was right.” You simply shake your head in response, turning back to your notes,

“He usually is,” you tease, and Minghao squeezes your hand. He may not always agree with that sentiment, he thinks, but this time — this time, he definitely does.

And he couldn’t be happier.

[short-origins]

Stay Safe.

(Fun fact: I had no idea I was queer when I wrote this. How I didn’t know is beyond me, but whatever.)

So, you’re heading out? 

The bubbly scrawl appears along my left arm. A small smile works its way onto my face as I read the white script. I am not supposed to communicate with anyone outside of my command at this time, but screw it; freedom of speech and expression still apply, yeah?

“Hey, could I borrow a pen?” I turn to my friend Jonah, who gives me a ‘really?’ look. “Yes, really. Now may I borrow a pen or is that a no?” I ask. 

“Yeah, yeah. Here you go,” he sighs as he reaches into his pack to pull out a black pen. “I need this one back, L.”  

“Yes sir,” I say with a lilt in my voice as I snatch the pen from his grasp. “Thanks.”

Yeah, planned patrol. Shouldn’t be too bad.

“Pen away, Liz,” Commander Zolt orders gruffly. “We’ll be out of this stinking truck in five minutes, you’ll live.”

“Yes sir,” I say as I yank my sleeve down over my olive skin and hand the pen back over to Jonah. “Thanks again,” I say. Wordlessly, he takes the pen back and puts into his pack and pulls out some jerky to snack on.

“So, what’d you tell ‘er this time?” he asks while peeling the wrapping open. He wiggles his eyebrows and I just roll my eyes at him.

“It’s not like we had a ton of time to chat and it was just about our day; nothing ‘juicy,’ you idiot.” I say.

“Rats.”

“Shut up.” I smile and lean back into my seat. In the back of the truck are three people besides me and Jonah. Commander Zolt, who has never seemed to like me, along with the siblings Colt and Bel. who mostly chat with each other, but they are good people to hang with otherwise.

As the ride to Quintar continues to draw out, my mind thinks to the writing on my arm. I find myself focusing on the faint pin-pointed pressure of Tiana’s response. Despite how tempted I am to look, I can almost feel Commander Zolt watching and waiting for me to slip up, which keeps me from doing anything of the sort. 

I’ll read it later, when I get the chance. Tiana and I have been chatting for almost fourteen years now. She reached out to me first. 

Does this work? 

The pale blue color had bloomed on my arm. I remember running to my mom immediately after. “Mom! Mom! Look!” I’d said. Seeing the messy scrawl for the first time had been a happy surprise. “Look! They wrote. What do I say back?” I’d asked her mother. 

“Well say hi to them at least. Talk to them,” she said.

The feeling of the truck suddenly slamming on the brakes snaps me back into focus as our bodies jerk towards the front of the truck. “Alright, buzz-cuts and ponies, time to move!” the commander orders us as we begin to pick up all of our items. I pack up any material I took out of my pack and grab my gun from behind my seat as I stand. 

“Three years. We’ve been doing this job for three years. Last run for you, L,” Jonah says as we get ready to go. “You lucky shit.”  

“What can I say? I don’t want to be away from home any longer than I have to be.” I laugh and punch his upper arm, “Plus, once I’m back, I plan to finally meet Tiana in person, rather than over a video chat,” I say as I glance towards my left arm. “But we’ll have to meet up once you’re out. You are out soon too, yeah?”

Before he responds, we are pushed out of the truck into the dry, dusty heat of Quintar. The truck takes off to make room for the next truck as Jonah speaks. “Three more months. Better no forget about me in that time, L.” he says, securing some of gear to his belt. 

“Yeah, yeah.”

We are all corralled into a group once the rest of the command gets out of the other trucks. We split into groups of six and spread out along the surrounding area. Major Beth leads our group based off of her mutt’s nose. 

We arrive to a mostly deserted part of the town as we keep watch outside of each building while the mutt tries to sniff out any bombs, drugs, weapons, and other dangerous material. 

‘Clear!” Major Beth yells out as the mutt sniffs out another crumbling building. As we transition to the next building and continue our check, I lag behind a few paces and pull my sleeve back to see what Tiana wrote. 

Stay Safe. 

The clumsy handwriting makes me smile, as it always has since she accepted my position.

Why the HELL are you doing that!?

I could practically hear her screaming at me through the bold marks on my skin. She knew that I had been thinking about doing this, and had voiced her concern many times prior, but when I told her that it was going to happen, I could feel her anger radiating from the lines on my skin. 

I’m calling.

Moments later my phone rings loudly. I take a breath, before deciding to answer. I deserve any anger she has. “Hey.”

On the other end of the line I hear her strained voice as she asks. “Dammit, Liz. You’re going to get yourself killed out there,” her normally soft and happy voice sounds like it’s on the verge of breaking. “Of all times to go into service why-” she pauses for a moment, swallows and continues, “why now? Why not community service, policing, fire fighting even. Why would you go work in a war zone?” 

I understand her concern. “No one else will by choice. I’m not going to be away long. I’ll be back before you are out of college, and when I come back I’ll have the money to meet you so you don’t have to leave your studies. I’ll be fine. Plus, when I get back I’ll be able to get veterans discounts,” I say, half honest, half joking. Tiana lets out a breathy scoff. 

“Fine. Stay safe.”

“Liz! We need you to check this out,”Major Beth calls out.

“Yes Ma’am!”  I jog inside the building Major Beth and her dog are in. “What is it?”

Major Beth gestures towards three cabinets, two of which were opened. “We found a variety of weapons which were modified.” Major Beth opens the third cabinet and turns to look at me. “You’re the weapons specialists, what do we have here?”

I take that as a cue to begin pulling out the weapons and inspecting them. The first cabinet and much of the second are full of semi-automatic rifles with additions which were added with basic supplies, mostly duct tape. Most of the guns had added on knives and various blades to make basic bayonets. Other guns, though appearing ordinary on the surface, were modified to shoot ammunition other than bullets. Pistols are limited to small rocks and pebbles, but larger guns were altered to use things such as stones and incendiary cartridges depending on each gun.

“Besides the obvious attempt at recreating bayonets, the guns were modified to use more mundane things as projectiles, so they wouldn’t run out of ammunition,” I say, sparing her the details as she comes over to inspect the weapons. I walk over to the third cabinet to find it full of explosives. I hesitate in picking up anything from the third cabinet before walking back towards her. “It’s full of bombs and the bottom has a layering of of gunpowder. I recommend that we use any spare water we have and douse the powder,” I say. 

She nods and I begin to walk towards the door to get a jug of water, but I am interrupted when a loud banging sound ruptures throughout the area. Pulling my gun out, I quickly turn around to try to locate the sound. But I see nothing. The sound was of a gun going off, but I can’t tell from where. 

Another banging sound goes off, and suddenly the cabinet full of explosives is set off. The gunpowder lights on fire and then there is an explosion. 

My body is pushed back into the opposite wall, and my vision blurs to black. 

*

Clunk Click.

The sound of a door rouses me from sleep. My bleary eyes open and I have to blink a few times to see clearly. I turn my head to the right to see a nurse changing what my IV is connected to. 

“Your awake. How do you feel?” he asks.

“What?” I ask before comprehending what he said. “Oh, I- uhh- good? Where am I?” I can feel parts of my body secured by bandages and the air smells too clean, 

“You are in a hospital in Ann Arbor, Michigan,” he says. “You were injured while in Quintar, and since it was so close to your release date, it was decided that once you were stable you would be sent here,” he explains upon seeing my confusion. He walks to the door and just before he leaves he adds, “There will be a doctor here to check up on you in a few minutes. Until then, you have a visitor.” He walks out the door, and I can see his silhouette pause to say something to someone just outside the door through the hazy glass. 

A moment later the door opens, and a girl walks into my room. Her hair is an auburn color and her skin is fair. She has many freckles spattered across her nose and cheeks, and her green eyes light up when she sees me awake. 

“You never listen? Do you?” she says as she walks over and sits down in the chair next to my bed. 

“Selective hearing.” I smile up at her. “You were able to convince people to send me here, I’m impressed.” 

She shrugs. “What can I say? I’m majoring in English, I make the best arguments, and I wouldn’t stand for any more delays. By the way,” she stands and slightly leans over the side of the bed to hold out a hand, “it’s a pleasure to finally meet you in person, Liz.” 

I smile and take her hand, “I wish this were under better circumstances. I am happy to meet you in person as well, Tiana.”

[i-stan-too-much]

Sope Fic Recs

Here are some of my favorite Sope (Yoonseok) fics, because I’ve read a LOT and I’d like to share some of them with you :-

[ these are in no particular order and there are also some others I’ve wanted to share but unfortunately, they’ve been deleted :( ]

* - omg, this is very good

**- wow, this is a work of art

***- this is so good to the point that I’ve reread it so many times and yet I still fall in love with it just like the first time

1. Darling!*** By margotty (orphan_account)

— Hoseok is an aspiring writer who keep notes about a certain boy with soft black hair, lashes that feather in the wind and a nose that twitches when he's pissed.

Hoseok wakes one day to find that boy, the one he'd so often referred to as "Darling" is in his kitchen, making pancakes in Hoseok's pajama clothes.

(Basically Yoongi is a figment of Hoseok's imagination and he's come to life.)

//

This fic is one of those fics that when you just read the first sentence, you know that it’s going to be a good one. The plot is especially well thought out, the idea behind this fic is really cool, from the way that Hoseok first deals with the fact that there’s this ‘stranger’ that’s come to life from his notes, to how he learns to welcome Yoongi pretty soon after and learns to love him in such a short period of time. I also really like this fic’s ‘soft aesthetic’ like when Yoongi and Hoseok ride on Hoseok’s bike all over town, and how Yoongi is described with a certain delicacy. The first time I read this fic was on a school night - or shall I say day, at 3:00 am and after I was done, I had to go and reread it.

2. i can be ur pretty boy (i’ll wear a skirt for u)** By ohh

sugarmin, from what Hoseok gathers, is a goddamn tease. His profile picture is the lower half of his face, dewy cheeks, button nose, and a dangly earring hanging from one of his ears visible, but what puts the icing on top of the cake is this: his pretty pink mouth, suckling delicately on a heart-shaped lollipop. i have a gun in my bag, his bio says. Angel or devil, Hoseok doesn’t know, but he craves.

And oh, how Hoseok craves.

or, a story of new neighbours, boba teas, hidden identities, and riding the penny board under the summer sun.

//

This fic has two stars because it incorporates smut with a nice plot. Again I love the ‘soft aesthetic’ vibes that Yoongi gives off. I also like how Yoongi shows a more feminine side, and how both characters aren’t subjected to toxic masculinity. The fic itself is great, Hoseok kind of has a crush on this instagram model, the model being Yoongi, and Yoongi ends up moving to be Hoseok’s next door neighbor, and the rest is history.

3. Canvas** By Daebon

The paintbrush is poised above skin, ready to continue its work, but Hoseok finds that he's suddenly in far too deep. Now, the man beneath him has become the artist, coloring Hoseok’s world in vivid shades of passion.

His trembling hand lets go, brush clattering to the floor, splattering paint.

“Yoongi, I want you,” he whispers, voice low.

The elder stares back at him with a peculiar expression. “I already agreed to let you paint me.”

“No,” Hoseok rasps out, shaking. “Yoongi, I want you.”

———

Haunted by strange dreams, Yoongi begins to question the blurry line between right and wrong. Hoseok has the perfect life, but yearns for a muse other than his provocative boyfriend. Unfortunately, these troubled men find each other before they find themselves.

//

This fic has the potential of getting three stars, but the reason I gave it two was for the ending (this fic contains angst.) Now that being said, this fic is on a whole other level of literary techniques, the writer could even be a bestselling author, with how well this is written. Even if you don’t like angst, I’d recommend you give this one a go, because of how well written it is.

4. Love Yourself*** By endearings

It begins when he’s ten.

“Yoongi-ah,” his brother says, eyes glinting meanly. “You look a little chubby these days. Maybe don’t eat the ice cream, yeah?”

Yoongi puts the spoon down; curls into himself, drawing his knees to his chest despite the countless times he’s been told to sit properly at the dining table. “It’s just--just one bite, hyung; It’s not a lot.”

“Suit yourself.”

//

This fic will make you cry!! I put this one on here because of the message. You can tell that Yoongi has been insecure, and his family didn’t really help him feel better about himself, but Hoseok did. And maybe I put this one on here because I can relate personally to it (my best friend has been dealing with insecurities and body image for a long time now) but I still think that you should read this. I feel like it will really open your eyes. Disclaimer 99.9999% you’ll cry when you read this, so I don’t advise to read it in a public place.

5. The Diner** By psychojimin

"He tried really hard not to stare when that new employee came out of the kitchen for a second time. He tried really hard not to sniff when he passed by. There was just something about the man that made something stir inside of Hoseok, that made a comforting warmth grow in the pit of his stomach. The coffee in his mug had seemed to be cooled down enough and he took a sip, but the still scorching drink almost felt refreshing against his heated tongue."

//

I kind of debated putting this one on here, because I know a lot of people aren’t really interested in a/b/o, or are uncomfortable with smut. If you are, then you can go ahead and skip this one, but I put this one down for the people that have been looking for good ‘Alpha Hoseok’ and ‘Omega Yoongi’ fics. Not to mention, the smut in this is really good, but there’s still a plot.

6. Under the Same Sky*** By Lastwhalien For Mia95 [on going]

"The sky he wakes up to is not his sky."

One night ends as another begins.

Yoongi and Hoseok are half a world a way, living very different lives and yet they are intertwined when they begin to share their senses, irreversibly connecting their worlds.

Hoseok is the son of Durumi, not just a criminal empire but the empire, it is the machine that turns the world, manipulating money, world leaders, crime, and the rise and fall of power. He's good at his job, he was born for it, raised for it, but a coup has given his father the perfect chance to remove Hoseok from power, trapped in his apartment he's restlessly waiting.

Yoongi has escaped his past carrying the guilt of his mistakes he has rebuilt his life near the sea where he works on recreating the world as best he can, His life is calm, removed from the chaos it once held, but it still follows; a name he can never have, a family he can never truly be a part of.

One day they start to share their worlds, to see, to hear, to touch, to smell, to taste, to be two souls, two bodies, bound.

//

This one is so good!! Yoongi and Hoseok start off as complete strangers who appear in each other’s dreams. Then they realize that they can communicate with each other, and read each other’s thoughts. This one isn’t complete yet, but it’s so interesting and I can’t wait for the next chap. The plot is very interesting and the writer knows how to thicken the plot without dragging it out too much. The suspense will eat you alive!! Whether you want to start this fic right away or wait until it’s completed is totally up to you though.

7. wake up (to the sound of your fleeting heart)*** By inkingbrushes

Yoongi walks into Hoseok's dreams and it's surprising, sure, but it's a surprise that Hoseok welcomes.

//

This one too, is one of those that makes you wonder, how do people come up with such things?! This one is one of the older ones, and yet I still remember the first time I read it and how in awe I was, that someone wrote this and that they were THAT GOOD. Ever since, this writer has been one of my favorites and go to for bts fics.

8. stay (a little longer)** By ineedmygirl

That part of Hoseok that shut down when Yoongi left, that huge gaping space left in his brain and in his chest - it shut down to protect him

It was the part of Hoseok that knew, deep down, all along, that he was in love with Yoongi. And it knew that if Hoseok realized it back then, the heartbreak would devastate him beyond repair.

And now, that part of Hoseok is awake again.

or, Hoseok's best friend disappeared two years ago without a trace. They run into each other again in a seedy hotel in the middle of nowhere, and somehow Hoseok convinces him to join him and his friends on a road trip.

//

This one is a more recent one, so if you’ve read the ones I’ve listed above there still might be a chance that you haven’t read this one. This one is perfect for when you just need a casual fix to read when you’re home alone on a weekend and you’re bored and just snuggled up in your bed all warm. When I read this one, it just made me go aww. And when I reread it, it also made me go aww.

9. we’ll be looking for sunlight* By inkingbrushes

Yoongi thinks Hoseok's got a smile that can rival the sun.

(Or: the one where they meet during a cold winter night and Yoongi has no idea the boy with the million-dollar smile can turn everything he touches into ice.)

//

This one is the Jack Frost au you didn’t know you needed. I love all things Disney and Dreamworks and this fic was no exception. After typing all of this out, I questioned whether this one should really be on here, but why not. Who doesn’t like Disney or Dreamworks am I right?

10. The Things Worth Going To War For*** By softlyblue

“Spice and silk and trade and cloth. These are the things one goes to war over, but in my heart of hearts, I know they are not worth it.”

- quoted from a letter penned by the Crown Prince to his lover, at the end of the Southern War

*

“It’s got ears,” says the man that’s choking him. Hoseok. “Look, look. It’s got - like a cat.”

“Let me-” Yoongi wheezes, phlegm in the back of his throat, stars in his eyes, “Let me-”

“So Jungyoo wasn’t lying.”

Hoseok pushes harder. Yoongi realises faintly that he isn’t even touching the ground; Hoseok is holding him against the wall, Yoongi’s feet dangling uselessly a foot from the floor. “Why are you here?”

“He’s got the house markings,” Seokjin stretches over Hoseok’s shoulder and presses a thumb to the centre of Yoongi’s forehead, smearing the makeup there. The warpaint. “Maybe-”

“But why’s he got ears?”

Yoongi claws ever-more desperately. (Oh, if Jeongguk could see him now - he’d be a disgrace.)

“Hoseok-ah, I think you’re choking it.”

//

This one is also really good. I really like the relationship between Yoongi and Hoseok. Both start off hating each other at first, but slowly turn to acquaintances, then to friends, and finally to lovers. I remember this fic used to get updated every Sunday, and I would look forward to the end of the week just for this one. Disclaimer though, there are A LOT of ocs (original characters) so if you get confused a lot or are a little slow, you may want to at least skim through the previous chapters for names to have an idea of what’s going on (trust me this is from experience, I had to reread the entire thing)

11. Ripped At Every Edge, But We’re A Masterpiece** By superrunnaturall

Min Yoongi and his muse, Jung Hoseok.

//

I really like this fic, because you can really see the contrast between Yoongi and Hoseok’s background and where they came from. This one is also pretty old, but there might be a chance that you haven’t read it yet. The fact that Yoongi is a painter is a really good bonus might I add.

12. the prince’s vivisected* By cherryfluffyfuzzysocks [ongoing]

while the rest of the household worries over namjoon's strange behavior following prince jungkook's birthday, yoongi sets his mind on a different task.

he wants hoseok back in the house, whatever that takes. five years of enslavement together was horrific, but one month apart is unbearable. as yoongi prepares to work himself dead, the past continues to haunt the present.

**second work within a continuous series

//

This fic isn’t even my favorite of the series, but I added it because I think that this entire series is SO COOL. The idea of a kind of dystopian universe, where all humans are controlled by aliens has been overdone, but not when Jungkook’s the alien, that’s controlling everyone. I think that kind of adds a special touch especially when you see that even though the rest of bangtan are slaves to Jungkook (minus Hoseok) each one of them is kind of struggling with something different, and this series is covering exactly that. Each member (or two) will cover a fic and even though not all the fics will be sope I think that this one is still a must. Disclaimer, Jungkook is a huge asshole, YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!

[sagesparrow394]

Blueberry Body

Sequel to my fanfic Blueberry Blush, which can be found here! Read that one first.

Pairings: Logicality

Summary: In attempts to prove Willy Wonka is realistic, Roman tries to recreate the blueberry gum, with Logan as his tester. After many failed attempts, one finally has an effect.

‘Microsoft Nerd!’

Logan sighed upon hearing Roman call out. At least twice a week, Roman would ask for Logan to test a piece of gum in hopes it would turn the logical side into... Logan felt stupid just thinking it, a giant blueberry.

Basically, after last month’s movie night, Roman wanted to prove that the events in Willy Wonka are realistic and possible, and after a situation filled with misunderstandings, it led to Roman vowing to recreate the gum in the movie and Logan agreeing to be the tester. To be fair, when Logan agreed, he had thought the prince had been joking. That had been proven wrong, though, when Roman had come knocking on his door a day later with a stick of gum.

That gum had had zero effect. Neither had any of the others that followed. Well, except the last one, which had turned his tongue blue for two hours.

Logan stood from his desk and stepped out from his room before heading down the corridor and into the living room. Roman was stood there, a stick of gum in his hand. ‘I have a good feeling about this one. My apologies for the events that will follow.’

Logan rolled his eyes as he took the gum. ‘It’s not going to work.’ He put the gum in his mouth and started chewing. Roman waited in anticipation. Finally, Logan spoke. ‘The worst one yet. It doesn’t have any flavour.’

‘What?!’ Roman’s eyes widened in confusion. ‘But I put in extra blueberry this time, you should at least be able to taste that!’

‘Nothing,’ Logan shrugged. ‘I’m sorry, Roman, but it appears I’m still right.’ The teacher turned and left the room to get back to his work, smirking cockily. Roman sighed before turning to head back to his room.

‘Back to the drawing board, I guess...’

Logan sat back behind his desk after spitting out the flavourless gum, where he worked on making schedules for filming for the Sanders Sides episode that would come after the one they were filming the next day. However, after a while, he began to feel drowsy.

The logical side didn’t notice that, as he fell asleep at his desk, a blueberry flavour washed over his taste buds.

*      *      *      *      *

The next morning, Virgil was awake in his bed, headphones on and scrolling through Tumblr, as he had been since 2am. Roman was still in bed, a prince has to get their beauty sleep. Patton was in the kitchen, making pancakes for them all for breakfast.

Then a scream echoed through the mindscape, causing Virgil to throw off his headphones, Roman to fall out of bed and Patton to accidentally flip a pancake onto the ceiling.

Patton was the first to arrive at Logan’s bedroom door, closely followed by Virgil and then Roman. Patton tried the door only to find it locked.

‘Loganberry, are you in there?’ Patton asked, concerned for his boyfriend’s safety. ‘A-are you okay?’

‘Uh... y-yeah, I’m fine, n-no need to come in...’ Logan’s voice replied from the other side, sounding uneasy.

‘You literally just screamed, I don’t think I believe you,’ Virgil replied. ‘What’s going on?’

‘I... I just don’t want you to see me like this...’

The three sides outside the room shared a confused glance.

‘Lo, can at least I come in?’ Patton asked. ‘I promise, I won’t judge you for whatever’s going on.’

There was a pause before Logan replied. ‘Okay... But please don’t let the others see me, especially Roman.’

‘What? Why me?’ Roman asked, sounding slightly offended.

‘Of course, Loganberry,’ Patton replied to his boyfriend. He turned to Roman and Virgil. ‘Would you two mind...?’

The anxious and royal traits shared a glance before heading off into the living room. Patton heard the lock on Logan’s door click open. The moral side pulled the handle of the door and stepped inside.

‘Okay, Logy, what’s going- OH MY GOSH!’

Logan was stood in front of Patton, looking very different to how he had the day before. For one, he was blue from head to toe. His skin, hair, eyes, every part of him was the exact colour of a blueberry. On top of that, his stomach had a slight, but noticeable bulge to it.

‘It seems Roman’s newest version of the gum was more effective than I thought...’ Logan was staring at his feet, unable to look Patton in the eye.

The moral side was silent as he stepped forward, still staring at Logan. He reached out a hand and, after a moment of hesitation, gave Logan’s belly a small poke. There was a faint sound of sloshing and Logan’s face blushed a darker blue.

‘Well... I guess it could be worse...?’ Patton shrugged trying to look on the bright side.

Logan didn’t seem as optimistic, sighing as he sat down on his bed. ‘How is anyone going to take me seriously when I look like this? Look at me! My whole purpose relies on my being taken seriously so that you’ll listen to me in conversations, which is going to never happen again!’ He couldn’t help tears welling in his eyes. ‘I’m going to be a laughing stock... I understand if you want to break up with me.’

Patton sat down next to his boyfriend and lifted the logical trait’s chin, so they were looking each other in the eyes.

‘Lo, listen to me. I love you so, so, so much. I’d never break up with you because of this. If anything, it just makes the nickname I gave you more accurate! You are and always will be my little blueberry...’

He pressed his lips against Logan’s purple ones, both of them blushing their signature blues. Then Patton pulled away, giggling.

‘What is it?’ Logan asked, flustered.

‘Your kisses taste like blueberries,’ Patton explained. ‘It’s nice.’

Logan flushed darker, smiling slightly. ‘Are you sure you’re okay with this?’

‘Of course!’ Patton replied, taking the logical side’s hands in his own. ‘But you don’t have to let the others know until you’re ready, okay? I’ll be here for you no matter what you decide.’

‘Okay,’ Logan nodded, smiling at his boyfriend. However, his smile soon disappeared as he felt the familiar tug of Thomas trying to summon him. ‘Oh no... the video...’

‘The video?’ Patton paused before his eyes widened. He wrapped his arms around Logan, holding him tightly. ‘I won’t let you go up if you’re not ready, okay...  I promise I’ll hold onto- ’

Logan was pulled from Patton’s grasp.

‘Patton!’

‘Logan!’

Patton shouting his name was the last thing Logan heard before rising up into his spot in Thomas’ living room. Then he was met with three different exclamations of surprise.

‘Oh my god!’

‘Holy shit...’

‘It worked! …Kinda.’

Logan couldn’t help but glare at Roman as hot tears welled in his eyes. Here he was, on camera, a video that would be watched by at least 2.8 million people, and he looked like a blue, bloated freak. And it was all Roman’s fault for making that stupid gum.

‘I am going to kill you.’

‘Huh?’

Two seconds later, Logan and Roman were wrestling on the floor.

‘This is all your fault for giving me that stupid gum!’

‘You agreed to test it!’

‘I didn’t think it would work!’

‘You still agreed!’

‘I thought you were joking the first time you brought it up!’

Logan managed to pin Roman down and raised a fist to punch him in the face.

‘Logan, stop!’

Patton’s arms wrapped around the logical side, pulling him away from Roman. As Logan looked up into the moral side’s disappointed eyes, he couldn’t hold back any longer. He burst into tears, burying his head into his boyfriend’s shoulder. ‘I-I’m sorry... I just...’ He paused. ‘I sh-shouldn’t blame R-Roman... This is my own fault...!’

‘Ssh, Loganberry... it’s okay... it’s not your fault...’

As Roman watched the usually calm and composed side falling apart, sobbing in Patton’s arms, he couldn’t help but feel bad... Logan was right, it was Roman’s fault. He had to make this right.

‘Logan...?’

The teacher looked up at the prince, his eyes bloodshot, purple tear tracks on his cheeks.

‘I think I might be able to do something to help you.’ Roman stood up and extended a hand to Logan.

The logical side stared at Roman for a moment, biting his lip in consideration. Finally, he took Roman’s hand in his blue one. The two of them sank out.

There was a moment of silence.

‘...What the heck’s going on?’ Thomas asked.

Patton and Virgil shared a glance before telling Thomas everything: the movie night and the events of it, Roman trying to recreate the Wonka gum, Logan inadvertently agreeing to the tester, and the results the newest version of it had.

‘Oh my gosh...’ Thomas ran a hand through his hair. ‘And Logan’s stuck like that?’

‘Well, apparently not, judging by Roman’s actions...’ Virgil replied. ‘Anyway, Thomas, you summoned us for a video, so tell us, what’s going on?’

‘Um, actually, I think this solved the problem,’ Thomas replied. ‘My creativity’s been a bit lacking recently, and I’m guessing it’s because Roman’s been so focused on this gum thing.’

Speaking of Roman, he suddenly rose up into his spot. ‘I did what I could, which wasn’t much to be fair, but I tried.’

Logan rose up into his own spot. He was still blue from head to toe, but his stomach was now its ordinary size. ‘Thank you, Roman. I feel a little better.’

‘Don’t apologise,’ Roman insisted. ‘I don’t deserve it. I was trying to turn you into a blueberry, for Pete’s sake! What on earth was I thinking?!’ He sighed. ‘I really don’t deserve any thanks...’

‘Now, now, Roman, you still helped Lo in the end,’ Patton replied. ‘Don’t put yourself down like that.’

‘Yeah, that’s my job. We don’t need to self-hating sides,’ Virgil added.

‘Isn’t there anything that can be done about Logan’s skin?’ Thomas asked.

‘Unfortunately not,’ Roman shrugged. ‘You’ve read Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. Violet leaves the factory with her skin still blue.’

Logan looked slightly disheartened at this, so Patton walked past the camera and wrapped his arms around the logical side. ‘It’s okay, Lo. I don’t care what colour you are, and I love you all the same. And I’m sure these three won’t take you any less seriously.’ He turned to the others for confirmation, and Virgil, Roman and Thomas all nodded.

Logan hugged back. ‘Thank you, Patton, for everything. I guess I should just focus on what you said earlier: “It could be worse.” And, Roman, again, thank you too. You may have started this, but at least you tried to make up for your mistake, which is much better than a lot of people. And, anyway, I was slightly at fault too. Truce?’

Roman smiled. ‘Truce.’

‘So, it’s all good?’ Thomas asked, looking between all the sides.

‘Apart from the shitstorm that the Famders will start over me and this video, I think so,’ Logan nodded.

‘Language!’ Patton scolded. ‘But I promise I will help you through whatever follows this.’ He gave Logan a kiss, smiling as he pulled away. ‘Still tastes like blueberries.’

‘Well, this whole this has certainly been interesting. Call me back when something more relevant to me happens.’ Virgil sunk out.

‘I should probably go and clear out the gum-making stuff from my room and get started on the new script. You’ve really set me up for a lot of work with promising two Sanders Sides videos in one month, Thomas.’ Roman sunk out.

‘So, Loganberry, you feeling a lot more confident with yourself?’ Patton asked, stroking the logical side’s hair.

‘Yes, I think so,’ Logan smiled. ‘It doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks, you’re the only person whose opinion I care about. And if you’re okay with this, that’s all I need to know.’

Patton rested his forehead against Logan’s. ‘I love you, my little blueberry.’

‘I love you too, Pat.’

The two of them sank out.

Thomas turned to the camera. ‘Well, this didn’t go as I planned... But I still think something can be learnt from this. People can get really hung up on their appearances and what people will think of them based on their looks, and think they look bad as they are and that they need to make changes, but this is a really unhealthy mindset. You are all beautiful and handsome as you are, don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. Don’t let yourself be pressured into changing yourself if you don’t want to.

‘I think a lesson about forgiveness could be learnt from this too. Getting revenge, while it may seem satisfying, often just makes you stoop to the level of whoever hurt you. By accepting their apology, you are the bigger person, and in some cases, may even make a new friend, or repair a friendship.

‘Well, that’s all for today. Take it easy guys, gals and non-binary pals. Peace out!’

Tags: @weirdonehereoops, @joygaytrash, @punsterterry, @katie-the-noble-fangirl, @pumpkinminette, @metryingtobeme, @robanilla, @nerdy-as-heck

[notyourmotherswitch]

When Dean finds home

TITLE:  WHEN DEAN FINDS HOME

CHAPTER NO: 1/?

AUTHOR:  notyourmotherswitch

You end up at the bunker after a trauma.  Slowly the guys realize how much they want you there.

RATING: M

WARNINGS: Death of your child, grief (it gets better, then REALLY better), self esteem issues, language, smut, little Daddy kink.

NOTES: My very first ever.  First fanfic, first writing a story for others, first major posting on tumbler.  Please be kind.  Also I apparently have a strong author voice.  I have always loved the theatrical aside, where the actor lets you in.  A quick personal joke, quick addition to the sentence or funny reaction.

Sam did hear y/n crying, and as he had for every night since you came to the bunker, he grabbed a pillow and slept beside your door.  He knew you needed to work through, well everything, but wanted to make sure if you needed more that he was right there for you.  Dean slept thru almost anything.  After the sobs diminished, he crept back to his room, sad he couldn’t do more to help you thru this.  He hoped you asked for help if it got to be too much.  He was afraid that even if you did need help, you wouldn’t think to ask someone else.  You asked for so little.

The story so far:

You were screaming, looking at the Aurora’s crib.  Then those two men burst into your home.  The tall one went straight to the crib, blanched, and with a blank face pulled her blanket over her poor little body.  Sam then turned to you with a sad face and said, “She did not suffer.  She did not feel pain.  The thing that did this...”  You went silent; you had to know what could do this.  Why Aurora?

“Damn it!”  Suddenly you realize the shorter one (who still towered over you) is pissed angry.  He won’t meet your eyes. Sam gently suggests you go to the living room.  “Dean, get some water for her.”

“Right.”  As Sam sat you down, you could hear Dean slamming cabinet doors hunting for a glass.  Sam gently sat down opposite you on the coffee table, frankly you were surprised it held up, it was almost embarrassing cheap.  But it allowed you to get the best crib the store had, and Aurora was so worth the furniture that would grow as she did.  Oh.  Sam was talking to you with this puppy dog look on his face, you probably should pay attention.

You do your best to listen, you even managed to ask a few questions.  Sam explained that there were things that go bump in the night.  Most hid as humans, but some just did not have that level of intelligence.  They had been tracking a beast, you couldn’t remember what it’s name was, that had killed some “recreational hunters” (sounds fake, but ok).  Earlier that day they had tracked the beast down to a lair in the woods and found its family.  During the process of “ganking” (weird name), the female escaped wounded. While they were tracking it down to finish their job, they heard you screaming.  Best they could figure, it crawled into your precious Aurora’s room and took sustenance to speed the healing process.  They killed it as it left your home, too late.  Dean brought you a glass of water, but still didn’t meet your eyes.

What happened next, you can only guess, cause you fainted.  The night had proved too much to process.

*****

You start to wake up, you aren’t in your bed.  You are in a moving car.  Why? Then last night floods into your memory. You can’t even think past the grief and gasp as waves of pain, horror and grief overwhelm you.  “Damn it, she’s awake again.”  You hear Dean swear under his breath.  “There’s a pull off just ahead, I’ll pull over.”  The car, something old but maintained, pulls over gently.  This isn’t a normal rest stop, there’s no bathroom, no gas station, no restaurant. Suddenly you realize you are in a car, with two unknown men who have admitted to hunting and killing THINGS, and there is no one in sight.  They took you from your home.  Fear grips you, pushing your grief back out of the way of survival.  Suddenly there are no emotions, and you take the first full breath since… no, and stop crying.  You watch both men very carefully, hoping for a moment when you can run, escape or do injury. Injury might work, might even help kill some pain…

Sam is looking at your face, he turned in his seat and is just watching you with a sad face as the car comes to a stop.  Something in Sam’s body language tells you to wait and see what they do, you don’t feel he would hurt you.  Don’t know about the compact firecracker though.

Sam waits, watching your expression flit across your face.  He can see your survival instincts have kicked in and you have a false calm. “y/n, my name is Sam.  This is my brother Dean.  We met last night.  Do you remember what happened last night?”

“Aurora.”  A sob escapes you.  You push it back down, you can’t grieve right now, you have to survive.”

“Do you remember us talking last night?”  “Yes, you said you killed that thing.”  “Good. I promise, Aurora did not feel pain or fear and it was quick.”  “I understand.”

“Before we talk about anything else, do you have any questions about last night?”  “No.  My life is over.”  You state it with such belief, Sam is struck dumb.  A slow ok of understanding came out with a tear in his eye too.  “Why did you kidnap me?  I have no money, no family, and no reason for anyone to want me.”

Dean had been watching you in the mirror, he thought he understood your grief, and did not want to make things harder for you by another stranger watching you.  But he couldn’t not watch you.  You were so sure that your life was over, you stated it.  He could see the grief in your every movement. He was impressed you were able to tamp down your feelings to get on with a task.  That took serious balls, he thought.   Someone that ballsy couldn’t be allowed to give up.

“We did not kidnap you, at least we did not intend to.  After you fainted,” You snorted unbelieving. “After you passed out, we got a call from a friend.  He needs our help, fast.  Normally we would have called a relative or the cops for you.  But when we found your contacts list, we couldn’t have someone we thought we could call.  And the way that thing hunted, it could look like you had killed your daughter.  We decided we couldn’t leave you alone to face all that, but we had to leave, so we brought you along.”  

A soft “Sorry” came from the green eyes in the mirror.  After they eye contact, Dean sighs and turns to face you as well.  They are both clearly trying to NOT scare you, not putting their arms past the seat back, not invading your space and Sam’s voice seems like he was really trying to be calming.  It was succeeding.  You start to relax, now that you are sure you aren’t about to be raped and killed.  A new dark part of you whispers that you can’t even get enough attention to be raped, let alone have these two very handsome guys paying attention to you.

“Oh.  I get it.  I will call a cab to come get me and I will be out of your way.”  You thought your words were as emotionless as you felt; instead the defeat in your voice betrayed you.  You realize not only do you still have on your pjs and slippers; you do not have your wallet or phone.  Sam held your phone out with raised eyebrows.  “ Here’s your phone, we were trying to find someone to help you. We grabbed some things for you, they are in the back”  

“No one helps me, they only want me to help them.  I can walk back.”  You are just so numb.  You just want to be in your bed, holding… no.  You can’t go back without her.  There was a nosy old biddy who would probably love to call the cops if she felt something was off.  She was always trying to get your to confess who the father was, tried to shame you whenever she saw you with “your little bastard”.  She did not believe a woman would want a child by herself, and only believed you were a slut.  You wondered what she had thought about the fact no man ever visited your home.

“Damn it, damn it, damn IT!” The explosion from Dean startled you. Sam immediately shot a look at his brother to watch it, but was surprised at Dean’s chagrin.  “She can’t go back.  The cops won’t believe her, there is no body, and there is no one to..”

“WHAT!?”  You scream at Dean, “What do you mean there is no BODY? Where is my little girl you supreme ass-“

Sam practically jumped over the seat.  “Wait. We wouldn’t have left her like that. The beast can carry a type of infection, so we had to burn it.  We also had to cremate your daughter, to be safe and to protect you.”  “WHAT?!  Why?” This did not make you feel better, just more afraid.  Sam quickly explained that there would have been too many questions from a medical examiner, and without the body of the thing… it would look like you killed her. That even you being in town without her would raise horrible questions.  They did gather up her ashes for you.  She was in the back with your stuff.

“So without being able to talk to you, or leave you in a safe situation, we brought you until we could figure out what to do with you.  We just have to get to our friend we will get you a separate room, help him then we can talk about what you want to do.  You are safe.  We will help you figure out what you want to do as soon as we’re done.”  As you take calming breaths and force yourself not to starting crying again, you lose the battle.

Figuring you were mostly up to speed, and past the freaking out stage, Dean pulls back out onto the lonely road.  As you feel the blissful blankness of exhausted sleep roll over you, as you hear Dean whisper, it confuses you.   “We have to keep her.  Sam, you know we do.”  “I know Dean, but only as long as she wants us to.  I think she’s too used to being alone.”  No one ever wanted to keep you before.  No one worried about you, not since Nana, why these two?

*****

You start to surface as you feel the car pull into a stop.  The front doors open (one squeaked) and feel the weight of the guys get out of the car.  “You get the rooms, I will get our stuff together and get her to bed.”  Someone else has it covered, someone else is taking care of what needs to be taken care of and for once it isn’t you.  Even as your mind boggles at the thought, a hint of grief appears.  You are too sleepy to remember what or why, but allow yourself to fall back into sleep’s arms and away from bad things.

The door you were leaning on opens, nearly dropping you to the pavement.  Sam quickly maneuvers to support your shoulders and sweeps your legs up, carrying you into a cheap motel room.  You swim through the sleep, struggling to understand.  Sam picked you up.  No Sam SWOOPED you up, like a freaking prince charming!  Like the pregnancy weight you never bothered to lose (what for?) wasn’t even there.  Even as he lowers you onto a double bed, you just can’t reconcile it.  No one ever picked you up to hug or kiss you, probably in fear of hurting themselves.  Sam did not even grunt once.  You did not know it was possible for someone to make you feel petite or feminine.  You stare at his soft brown eyes in confusion. Nothing about this made sense.

Sam smiled at you in relief, “Oh, good you’re awake.  We were getting worried about you.”  Sam stepped out the open doorway and you see him grab a bag out of the trunk of the car. You finally got to see the car you have been riding in.  Black shiny old school mussel car.  Your knowledge of cars was very limited, but you recognize the style and appreciate what good condition it was in.  “I grabbed a few things for you, I did not see any medications, thought you would like to have something to change into.”  You look down, there is your pretty flowered gym bag and you realize that you were out of it, cause you did not even think about clothes.  But now all you wanted to do was brush your teeth.

“Dean and I need to go see our friend right away.  The rooms are paid for the next two nights, if we don’t come back.  We expect to be back before light.  We also picked up some supplies, if you need anything, we can pick up more tomorrow.”  Before you could think to ask any questions, he was back out the door.  You could here the car revving and Dean saying something about how the friend was able to kill it but needed help cleaning up.  The rocks kicked up peppered your door.

*****

And you were alone. Again.

The water was surprisingly hot, plentiful and with decent pressure.  Your experience with cheap motels usually left you wanting to leave right away, merely a pit stop to wherever your destination was.  This one was surprisingly clean.  Worn out, used, dated but clean.  You had to regroup.  You had to make decisions.  You had a funeral to plan; wait.  Where was Aurora?  You start to feel anxiety pushing over your good sense and prickle your scalp.  That would not help you.  You have to put emotions aside and make plans.  Plans to escape?  They left you in your own room; you saw them put bags into the room next door. They may have left you, without transportation, but they also left your phone.  As you dig into your bag for clothes, you had to laugh.

This bark of a laugh just erupted out of you.  There was no bra.  They remembered socks, 8 pairs in fact, remembered your toothbrush.  There were probably 4 complete outfits in there.  All your yoga pants, which normally never left the house, because you never wanted to inflict your shape on strangers.  Several tops, all the “cute” ones you didn’t wear after Aurora because they were too un-mom-like. You gasp when you see a thin, silver chain.  They grabbed your favorite necklace from your bed stand. It was the Goddess, given to you by Nana after you dedicated yourself to Wicca.  The last thing you had of her, thanks to poor estate planning.

As you feel the necklace settle, you sit down hard on the bed.  It hits you like a train.  You life is over.  Then your fathers voice from childhood memory floated forward.  “Never give up on life, give up on the day.  When it gets bad, go to sleep early.  Then the day is over, you get sleep and can deal with whatever fresh in the morning.  And there is always another day to start over, to start better.”  You did not remember much, but you remember his saying. It is what kept you going when things got tough.  You couldn’t think of anything more awful than the last 24 hours.  But he was right, tomorrow was another day to start better.

You were never the type of gal to grab a guy’s attention, let alone devotion.  You never had the epic teenage love, the tragic college guy or even many of the lonely one-night stands.  You got dates, but usually ended up hearing about how great you were, for someone else.  You got put into sister category too often to be able to picture a wedding or a family. After the accident you were raised by your grandma, a distracted lonely but loving environment, until your freshman year at college when she had her aneurism.  That day, you decided not to wait for your prince charming and started to save, scrimp and plan to make your future for YOU.  You could plan, you could research, you could be a mom.  So after years, on your 35thbirthday, and by yourself, you went to your doctors office and got lucky on the first cycle.  Everything was a beautiful dream, on your own.

You had the whole night to do nothing more than think.  Left alone, more alone than you can ever remember, you decide that you don’t want to be alone anymore.  You decide once you get home you will get a pound puppy.  Do some good, help someone, take care of and love something.  You can’t fall down, you want Aurora to look down and see you carrying on.  You may not be able to mother anymore, but you can still be a good to her mother. You will go on, because to do less would be an insult to her brief life.

You made your decision. You would carry on.  Look for meaning, look to help others, be the good that a monster took out of this life.  You could plan.  No, that was too simple of a way to put it.  You had a way of figuring out what you wanted to do, what would have to happen to allow you to do what you wanted to do.  You loved lists, checklists, plans.  Whenever life got to be too much, you planned your way into something better. After all, as long as it only depended on you, you could make anything happen.  Other people messed up plans, rarely helped, and mostly just made you feel worse.  So ya, you were alone, but you have always been alone.  So nothing new other than the grief.

*****

The boys were driving to the motel.  Their fellow hunter, Jeffrey, was not very skilled.  He thought he killed the monster, but did not realize they always hunted in pairs.  Luckily Dean saw it creeping up on Jeffrey as he was burning the body of the first one, one shot one kill.  Easy enough to add the second body to the pyre, sweep for any others.  Destroy any evidence of monster, but leave enough for people to have closure about their missing loved ones.

The road was quiet, and for once Dean did not have the radio on.  “Dean, why didn’t we leave y/n with a friend?  It wouldn’t have taken long.”  “Sammy, the closest person we trust is Jodi.  Do you really want to take a freshly grieving mother to Jodi?  Make her relive her own worst day?  I can’t do that to her.”

“Well, then what are we going to do with her?  We can’t keep her.”

“Why not?”  An idea came to Dean, but it probably wouldn’t work,

“What?!  Keep her?  What are you talking about?  Dean, our lives don’t let us have friends who are just friends.  Its too dangerous for those who don’t know.”

“So we tell her, teach her, so she can protect herself.”

“Dean, I am pretty sure she can take care of herself just fine.  She appeared to be doing just that when we found her.  She can go back, explain Aurora died while on vacation and was cremated. There are grief support groups, her life to help her though.”

“Sam, this IS a sad day when you miss such obvious signs.”

“What?!”

“Sam.  Really? Ok lets think.  Where was her husband, her partner, the father?”

“From what I saw there is no man in her life.”

“And her friends, how many are there?”  Dean started to smile, for once he was the one who noticed and loved showing his brainy brother up.

“Um..”  “Exactly!  That’s my point!”  “Explain.”

“While you were digging thru her desk looking for who to call, I looked in her diary.  I know, I know, huge privacy break. But it would have told us who was the most important person, who would help her deal.  There is no one.”

“What do you mean, no one.”

“No one, Sam.  You and me, we have each other till the end of the line.  We have friends who help out when the shit hits the fan.  She had no one.  She did not hang out with coworkers after work, she did not have dates, she only took care of her kid.  In her diary she said she did that test tube crap to have the kid.  That people who she thought were friends were turned their back on her when she had her child, cause she was no longer their designated driver all night long.  Can you believe that shit?!  There is no one.  She just moved to this new town to get away from nasty gossips and moved right next to another one who was making this town miserable as well.”

“Dean, I get it.  It sucks, but it is her life.”

“Exactly my point again.” “How so?”

“She lived for the kid. What is she going to do now?  Go back to the town that thought awful things about her and explain her daughter’s gone?  Go back to the house where her kid was killed?  There is nothing there for her now.  She is alone.”  Sam speared Dean with a penetrating look, Dean was looking like he was almost getting away with something.  “I mean, we have extra rooms, and I think for as long as she needs… sheshouldstaywithus.” Dean suddenly was very concerned with finding a radio station.

Sam was surprised, normally he was the one who wanted to bring home the wounded and care for them. There was something about this situation that made Dean act so strangely.  Normally he was the one arguing about not just walking away after the job was done. He was the one who made sure there was loving support when they walked away.  Most of the time they were trying to get away fast, so it was only a talk to your preacher or tell people it was a car accident, it will explain away more. Dean normally did not do this. Strange.  Sam agreed to offer the sanctuary to their wounded bird, but only if she wanted to.

[new2otomelol]

SCM - The Hybrid - a Zyglavis Fanfic

I don’t own the rights to SCM - this is a fanfic. Nyx is the MC in this story. Feel free to leave any Feedback! Hope you enjoy!!!

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Nyx’s POV

I’m falling fast, only darkness surrounds me.  I try to scream, but my voice won’t come out.  I try to move, but nothing happens.  I snap out of my nightmare and take a deep breath. I’m back to my other torment, my life.

I had a great childhood, until the day I started getting weird dreams and nightmares.  They always seemed like memories to me.  My parents worried about my situation and had me evaluated by a group of doctors and specialists.

Dr. Rithguard was the person assigned to me after copious amounts of testing. He would intently listen to all my stories and convinced my parents to give me a certain type of medication, supposedly to correct my “hormonal imbalances” and be normal once again.  Over time, the medication caused me much debility.

I was barely 13 years of age when my parents suddenly died in a plane crash; not having any other living relatives, I was placed in an orphanage. My psychologist, Dr. Rithguard, decided to adopt me.  I never liked the man, there was something about him that made my intuitive bells ring without end.  Over time he would teach me that Gods never truly existed and that any wishes made were never heard; too weak to argue, he would slowly brainwash me of this. Even though this went against my cultural up-bringing.

When I was 16, we relocated to a new city where Dr. Rithguard had found a new job.  We never really communicated, so I was never in tune with his goals or aspirations.  Basically, I never knew what he did since he had stopped practicing psychology.

One night, after dinner, Dr. Rithguard crossed the line of guardian to that of my abductor.  While washing dishes I felt a small pain at the back of my neck, when I looked back, he was standing behind me, holding a needle and donning a wicked smile.

When I came to, I was in a very simple room.  There were no windows, only a small bed, a large mirror on the wall, a sink and a small bathroom.  The door to the room was made of metal and almost resembled that of a prison door. This was the beginning of my long and torturous confinement.

That was then, today, I’m 24 years old and have been held captive for 8 years.  My “guardian” runs experiments on me at his leisure.  His usual routine is to release a gas into my cell and once I’m incapacitated, he injects me and runs tests on me.

At first, I was unaware of what medications or chemicals were being injected into my system; however, one day, my eyesight changed.  I could focus on objects distant from my view and read them.  It is during that time that I discovered Dr. Rithguard was manipulating my genes.  Some of the medications were designed to heighten my brain activity and physical strength, others were designed to replace the nutrients I was lacking due to my imprisonment.  

Some of these drugs caused adverse reactions and I suffered from chronic pain and malnutrition for two years. After that, my body seemed to adjust and changes began to occur. My eyes that once were honey brown, changed into a combination of yellow, magenta, turquoise and green.  I had night-time vision capabilities as well as magnification; I could see through the pores of my skin. My ability to mentally process data changed as I could now access commonly inactive areas of the brain.  This also meant I could telekinetically move objects as well as read minds.  Although, I made sure Dr. Rithguard never became aware that Iast fact.  I learned much from his thought process; however, I could never pick up on emotional thoughts, he would always think of work.

Another changed aspect of my appearance was that of my hair color which had slowly turned from a dark brown to a silver hue. No matter what, the doctor did not want to cut my hair, he wanted it long.  He controlled everything about me, I was never allowed to make a choice. During the past two years, his thoughts began turning darker and I could hardly stand to look at him.

From what I could read from Dr. Rithguard’s notes, my changes were going along smoothly; however, one unexpected change occurred that shook him to his core. I stopped aging at 21.  My body heals on its own and my cells remain in a constant regenerative rate.  To him, this meant he had found the “fountain of youth.”

He worked furiously to see if he could recreate what he had done to make that happen; however, he remained unsuccessful to the very end.

It was hard to come up with a good escape plan, even with my abilities.  He kept me tired and drugged so that I wouldn’t attempt anything. I had to patiently wait for the right time to break free.

Today, as I lie awake after another nightmare, I decide to take action. My guardian had been forgetful lately and thus slipped in giving me the medication to sedate me. I braid my long hair and twirl it around into a bun, I couldn’t have any obstacles to hinder my escape since my hair is so long that it reaches right below my knees.  I begin to prepare myself, emotionally and mentally for it all and then strike.

I bang my head hard against the glass of my room and fall backwards, pretending to have a psychotic episode.  He couldn’t afford to brake his test subject.  Within seconds I hear the door to my room unlock and I feel his hand slide under my head to try and lift my head up for a closer inspection.  I sit up with all my strength successfully headbutting him.

I drag him and lift him to my bed to use the restraints he always used to contain me. “Alright you son of a bitch… it’s time for answers, why did you do this to me?” He begins to laugh “my dear, you’re unique and you don’t even know it!” I let out a growl, “TELL me WHY!” He kept laughing and suddenly began to shake.  I tried to help him, but he seemed to be suffering from an attack of some sort. I wanted him to talk to me… he never once did after being placed in this hell hole.  I was going to find some medicine, something, but he shakingly began to talk “I… I… sorry… you’ll find out… loved you… but you were rare… spec… specimen…” those were his last dying words.  I couldn’t feel sadness or hate.  All I knew was that I had to leave.  I cleaned up my bloodied face and changed my shirt, grabbed one of Mr. Rithguard’s many hats to cover my silver hair, took the money from his wallet and set fire to the place.

Once outside, I wandered around the streets and noticed how big the city had gotten.  I pass by a news stand and I look at the local paper to discover that today is July the 6th.  I remember my parents use to take me to a star gazing festival when we would visit this city.  I miss them so much. “Hey Miss, you gonna buy that?” I smile at the seller and grab a pair of sunglasses from the stand and purchase them instead of the publication.

I walk around aimlessly taking in the sites, feeling the sunlight on my pale skin.  I feel dizzy as I once again re-adjust to being outside, but I wouldn’t trade it for the world. Evening begins to set in and I wonder into a park.  As I stroll along I see an older man a few feet away from me attempt to take a child.  I try to move to save the child, but a flash of light distracts me for a second and a man with long blue hair in a ponytail wearing a uniform appears out of nowhere and snaps his fingers. The older man falls to the ground in agony as the child runs to his mother.

“Nnn… No… No way!” the words escape me and I turn to look at the man once again.  To my horror, nobody else can see him.  Have I truly gone mad? It’s a possibility! None the less, I begin to turn around in an effort to run; my sunglasses drop as I take a couple of steps forward when I feel someone hold my wrist and pull me backward.  I fight with all my strength; my hat falls and my long braid becomes undone; I hear a gasp come from the man holding me and he suddenly releases me. I take advantage of his distraction and force a trashcan to fly across the sidewalk hitting my captor, these telekinetic abilities come in handy.  

I take my chance to flee, but my accomplishment is short-lived as I begin to feel dizzier than before “damn… it” I whisper as I begin to fall, but a pair of arms hold me by the waist and turn me over.  The man with the pony tail begins to inch closer to my face… “please, let me go…” he intently studies my eyes and gasps. Tears of fear begin to fill my vision “My dear former goddess, I’ve finally found you!”  

I’m not sure what he’s talking about, but I place a hand to his chest and mentally push him away from me with such strength that I send him rolling across the sidewalk.  I begin to run away once again.  I make it out of the park to where the street is when I hear someone snap their fingers.  Suddenly I can’t move, it feels as if I’m restrained by something invisible. “Please stop running away, I’m not going to hurt you” I begin to hyperventilate, all of this is too overwhelming.  I want to be free!

I start to fall to the ground, but he catches me before I could hit the pavement and carries me. “What has happened to you? Your eyes, your hair…” I begin to feel my consciousness fade. “hold on…” the man snaps his fingers and my world changes before me. I pass out from the experience.

I begin to wake and I see so much bright light surrounding me.  I feel a very comfortable mattress beneath me lined with silk sheets.  I get up to walk around the room and notice that things are very neat and organized.  The door opens as I stand in the middle and the man with the ponytail walks in and smiles at me “you’re awake, good! We can take you to see the king soon.” He takes a step towards me and I move back.  I can’t trust anybody right now.

“I’m not here to hurt you.” I start to shake a little, but hold it in… “but you brought me here. Where am I? Never mind that… let me go please…” He extends a hand towards me and I jump backwards. “I’m not letting anybody take me ever again, I’ve suffered enough…” I put my hand towards him and push him against the wall with my mind.  He looks at me shocked, but with a curious gaze.  I make sure to hold his fingers in place so that he doesn’t snap them. I walk past him and open the door.  

I begin to run down a long corridor and my mental hold on the man breaks.  “Stop! Come back!” I run faster and open a huge door in front of me.  I make it inside and I am overwhelmed with the radiance of it all.  This looks like a throne room.  I quickly scan the room to find a way out. “Oh ho… looks like we have a little runaway!”  A man with long blond hair and an aura of regality appears before me.  I fall backwards and begin to pull myself away from him. However, with a wave of his hands I’m standing once again, and this time I’m pulled so close to him that our noses could meet.  

He gazes at me deeply with his eyes and I stare back, they were beautiful; it was as if you could see the universe in them. “My child, I can’t even read your mind and that’s impossible. What happened to you? Speak!”  He lets me go and I walk backwards putting distance between us. I just want to be free, I want to live some sort of semblance of a normal life.  

“Let me go please, I… I… can’t  be held prisoner again, please let me go!” He looks at me with a frown on his face when we’re interrupted by a knock on the door. “Your highness, may I come in?” The man with the ponytail comes in.  I begin to back away from both men. I can’t be taken.  I’m too scared I can’t think straight.  

“Minister Zyglavis, please come in.  Do you know what’s going on with the former goddess?” Why do they keep calling me that?  The man called Zyglavis walks up to the other one and both stare at me “I’m not sure your highness, I’ve tried speaking to her, but she keeps running away, she looks extremely frightened.” He slowly steps forward “I promise not to hurt you or get any closer, but you need to talk to us.”

I try to control my breathing and confusion… but everything is too overwhelming. I hold my head with both of my hands as if to pacify my mind and sit on the floor bending my knees to meet my head.  I feel a hand run through my hair, “my child, what have you been through?” I take a deep breath and find the man that minister referred to as the King kneeling in front of me. “I… was taken as a child and experimented on for many years… I… I” The tears begin to fall and I can’t seem to stop them.  The king looks at me with a sad gaze and I feel the minister’s arms surround me in an embrace “Shhh… you’re not there anymore… you’re safe…”  I let go of my head and wrap my arms around his neck, hugging him tightly… “I haven’t felt a warm…hiccup…embrace from a person in more than 11 years” I continue to sob onto his shoulder and I begin to lose consciousness once again.

ZYGLAVIS POV I can’t even begin to imagine what the former goddess has been through. I hug her to help calm her down and she in turn hugs me tighter, putting her arms around my neck.  When she tells me she hasn’t felt another person’s embrace in 11 years, I couldn’t even begin to fathom what other things she must have gone through. I stare at the king, who is looking quite furious, something I haven’t seen in centuries.  

I feel her cry harder as she nuzzles her head on my shoulder and slowly she begins to lose her strength and fall asleep.  I carry her and face the king. “Your highness, she seems to have powers, they are not godly in nature.” The king nods at me and touches the former goddess’s face. “My child, what have they done to you?...” his eyes look sad. “Zyglavis, take her to your room and watch her.  When she comes to, we’ll have to work slowly to get any information we can from her.  She’s been hurt for too long, and so far, seems to trust you more.” I nod to the king and leave with the former goddess in my arms.  She looks beautiful sleeping peacefully.  Her eyes are so many shades of colors and her stars shone brightly when I first saw them.

Nyx’s POV I’m falling again… the darkness is suffocating me… I feel warm arms surround me and I begin to slow down and slowly wake up, this is different. “Nnnggh…” I see a bit of blue hair in my peripheral vision… this must be the minister… “Zyglavis?” The minister immediately pulls back and holds my face with both of his hands… “Are you alright former goddess?” I nod. “Why do you keep calling me ‘former goddess’?” He lets go of my face and smiles “the stars in your eyes; you are the reincarnation of a former goddess.” I’m what? “but there are no Gods, Dr. Rithguard told me never to wish and not to believe.” Zyglavis stares at me with a shocked face… “We are real, we’ve always been here and you were one of us.  Was Dr. Rithguard your captor?”

It can’t be, Gods are real?  I mean, I’ve seen what this man can do, but, I don’t know. “G.. Gods are real?” he smiles, “Yes we are and we’ve been looking for you; now, was that man your captor? I take a deep breath, “yes, he took me after my parents’ death. He adopted me, but he… he had other plans for me. He’s the reason I’m a freak. In fact, I’m not alright, please let me go. Maybe I’m crazy and this is all a figment of my imagination? Am I dreaming? Am I still a captive?” I begin to breathe rapidly as I feel fear and darkness surround me once again.

Zyglavis looks at me sadly and holds my shoulders… “you are not a freak and you are here with me, I will protect you. None of this was your fault!  I just don’t understand why we can’t sense you or him? I don’t even know your name.”  I look down, I feel ashamed, scared, unsure, but, maybe I can trust Zyglavis a little. “My name is Nyx.”  Zyglavis smiles and releases my shoulders. “Well Nyx, it’s nice to finally meet you.  Now, when was the last time you ate?” I think hard on this “four days ago.” Zyglavis’ jaw drops and frantically begins to feel my forehead and observe my figure. “Oh my, this is bad! What would you like to eat? Say the word and I’ll snap up some food for you.”  I begin to laugh “I typically eat once or twice weekly… I really don’t need to eat often like humans do.”  He looks at me sadly once again.

“I mean, am I still human? What is wrong with me? Please don’t lock me up!”  Zyglavis hugs me once again. “Shhhh… you’re going through something that I can’t explain very well until I learn your story. But it seems that you’ve been kept hidden for a long time. It’s only natural for you to feel this way.  Please calm down, no harm will come to you.”

I take in a deep breath and try to tell my story.  “Dr. Rithguard took me a long time ago…” I stop, scared to speak. “What did this man do to you?”  I look down and begin to play with my hair, a nervous tick of mine. “He tested drugs he created on me and changed me over time.  I was locked in a laboratory for 8 years.  He would release a gas in my room often to subdue me in order to medicate me, run tests or provide medical care when… when…” I trail off, this part is too painful. Zyglavis looks at me and quickly holds my hands “when?” I cry “I would try to take my own life. I couldn’t handle it anymore.  The pain of the medicines, unable to set food outside for so long, my parents’ death, everything… I wanted to escape.  Even hell sounded like a vacation for me.  But then, my body quickly healed itself in one attempt, my flesh sealed on its own… I could no longer die… even that right was taken from me…” Zyglavis looks at me in shock “I… I’m so sorry Nyx.  I almost don’t know what to say. No one should take their own life, ever; but I know you went through a horrible experience.” He looks at me sadly and hugs me once again.  I take shelter in his arms and feel my worries slip away.  “Is it okay if I take a bath?” Zyglavis nods and with a snap of his fingers a white dress, bath supplies and other necessities appear beside me on the bed.  “I’ll take you to the baths, follow me…”

Zyglavis leads me down a long beautifully ornate corridor and opens two golden doors.  The sight of the beautiful circular bath took my breath away.  There were intricate statues of gods and goddesses all around.  Zyglavis snapped his fingers once more and provided me with towels.  “Nyx, I will be gone for a few minutes and then I’ll come back to stand guard outside, please take your time.”  I bow to Zyglavis as he leaves.

I get ready fast, I’ve always wanted to take a bath again!  When I was held captive, I had to take a shower, and it was always under Dr. Rithguard’s watchful stare.

I enter the bath and I begin to relax.  My long hair encircles my body as it floats and glistens under the water, I should at least cut it waist high one of these days.  Since the bath was almost as big as a pool, I dive under for a few seconds and then return to the surface. “Oooooh, what do we have heeeeere?” A man with a mischievous smile stands on the side of the bath looking down at me.  He has half of his hear up and a uniform almost like Zyglavis’.  I begin to panic and swim away from him. “You’re a beautiful fish, aren’t you?”  My heart races and I begin to scream.  The man begins to panic and shakes his hands “No, no, no, I’m not going to hurt you, please relax!” But then, Zyglavis comes running in to check on me and I climb out quickly and stand behind him.  My wet hair clinging to my body covers me. “Icthys, what are you doing in here!” he asks the other man with a commanding tone. “I thought I heard a noise and I came to check it out.  Who is this beautiful and unusual fishy?”  He begins to look at my face and his eyes widen. “Zyg, is she?” Zyglavis lowers his head as if he’s annoyed. “Yes Icthys, she’s the former goddess…” Zyglavis snaps his fingers and a towel is suddenly wrapped around my body. “Have more respect, will you? You can visit her after she’s ready, for now, we’re leaving.” Zyglavis snaps his fingers and we’re transported back to his room along with everything I had taken with me to the bath.

“Apologies Nyx, he’s a most troublesome god, but he means well.  Please get dressed.”  I begin to take off my towel and his face turns bright red “NO, not here, not in front of me, let me at least turn my back to you.”  I laugh “I’m sorry, I just got used to always being watched that it doesn’t bother me anymore.” His face cools down and he becomes sad once again. “You poor child… let me know when you’re done and I’ll help you with your long hair.”  He turns around and I begin to put on the clothes he provided me with.  The dress he made is a long, white empire waist cut style drafted from a very soft silky material. The bust line was a bit revealing to me, but it was elegant and the straps had pearls sown in to them.

“Zyglavis, I’m done.” He turns around and gives me the warmest smile; he snaps his fingers and my hair instantly dries. “Can I brush your hair Nyx?”  I nod and he grabs a brush and begins to gently work on my hair; it feels so good that I could fall asleep on the spot. “Your hair is so long and beautiful.” I laugh “It’s also a pain to manage, but Dr. Rithguard would never let me cut it.”  He continues to brush my hair and then makes a French braid.  I laugh a little… “I never thought a man knew how to do this!” He smiles and blushes “I love taking care of my hair, so, I’ve picked up a few things.”  When he’s done he brings the long braid to the front.  “Icthys wasn’t lying Nyx, you really are beautiful.” I smile at Zyglavis “thank you for that, I’m just scared about what will happen to me? Don’t people in my situation normally lose their minds? I mean, am I crazy?” He smiles sadly at me. “the fact that you question your sanity and worry about it means you understand things the way they are.  You are not crazy, believe me. I have friends that can help you, but you need to be willing to meet them.” I begin to cry. “You’re the only one I have spoken to in so long, I’m afraid to be without you!”  He gently holds me… “I will always be with you, plus, you’ll make new friends.”

I nod in agreement into his chest. “Alright Nyx, it’s time to go and meet the King again.  Let me talk to him first while you wait outside for a bit. Is it okay if Icthys stays with you?” I think about the god from earlier again, he didn’t seem to be bad… “yes, that’ll be fine, but can you talk to him before you leave me with him?” Zyglavis smiles, “yes, of course.”

We stand by the King’s door and Zyglavis addresses Icthys. “Be sure to take care of her and stay by her side. She’s in a delicate state right now.”  Icthys smiles at me “Zyg, I’ll take good care of her for you!”  Zyglavis gives Icthys one last stare and then looks my way “I’ll be back in a few minutes okay, stay here.” I smile at him as he walks into the room.  I have to be strong. “Sooooo… Nyx is i?… can I see your eyes again?!”

ZYGLAVIS POV I inform the King of what I have learned.  His concern is evident, a rare sight. “Zyglavis, this isn’t right. I never sensed her again after she turned 13.  I haven’t been able to read her mind and no wishes were ever made.”  

“Your highness, the man that held her captive, this Dr. Rithguard, do you know of him?”  The King looks confused, “no, not at all. Have Leon and Scorpio investigate the matter.  Let the other gods study Nyx to see how far this man changed her.  She is now enigma, no longer a goddess, yet she still has her stars, and no longer human.” I bow to the King and make my way back to Nyx.

NYX’S POV “Can I play with your braid? Pleeeaaaaasseee?” I sigh, “for the thousandth time NO! Icthys!” He pouts as he looks at me when another god walks up to both of us, I quickly try to hide behind Icthys. “My, my… what gorgeous specimen do you have hiding behind you Icthys?” This man doesn’t feel right to me, something is off. “Partheno!!! This is the former goddess! Zyg found her!!!”

TO BE CONTINUED

[zrtranscripts]

Radio Abel, Season Four

Part 6 of 6

DAMIEN: So all you had was the recipe for pruno?

ETHAN: No. I mean, we've got more, but they're all basically the same: yeast, and fruit, and gas, and in a few days, booze.

LEXY: It's not great radio.

ETHAN: And there's spirits. I mean, I've still got the still out back. I've been working on that for a while, and we've nearly got all the bits we need to start distilling stuff, but it's unfathomably boring. It makes watching us level up look like, I don't know, The X Factor or something. What was it we used to watch all the time?

DAMIEN: I get you. So, what's the second half of the show going to be about?

ETHAN: I'm not sure. Listeners, if you want, I've got access to still plans and brew books and stuff. So, if you can ever make it all the way out to The Green Man – we're in the north end of the high street in [?] up here in Norfolk – I'm happy to share them with you.

LEXY: It's the only way you'll get that pub crawl.

ETHAN: Precisely. Plus, once we get that still up and running, we'll have actual booze to sell, rather than just, you know, stuff we scavenged from the surrounding area. And there's mushrooms from the basement, so that's even more of a reason to come and visit!

CLARA: When did we have our last visitor?

ETHAN: Had a runner up here about four days ago. Told us about a big horde scrubbing around Aylsham.

CLARA: A horde?

ETHAN: A hundred or so. I wouldn't worry. They're going to head south to Norwich, scrub around there. That's what they do.

CLARA: I heard the Ministry are trying to reclaim Norwich.

ETHAN: They'll have their work cut out for them. Anyway, she didn't stick around. Most of them don't.

LEXY: This place was a dive before the world ended. I don't blame her.

ETHAN: I guess we could just tell drinking stories. Ah, like that time we decided to climb the clock tower in town, after the pub had to get rid of a job lot of Irish stout that was just about to hit its expiry date.

LEXY: You were so sick.

ETHAN: It cascaded out of me.

LEXY: It was almost majestic.

DAMIEN: Really? You're talking about the time you were sick off a tower? I think I'm going to go to bed.

ETHAN: Maybe. Stay tuned, listeners. Maybe you'll get a hot, steaming serving of nostalgia. In the meantime, here's something to get you fired up.

CLARA: Why don't you tell them about the time you fought off those zombies when you were drinking?

LEXY: Oh yeah! Okay, so -

ETHAN: I don't know. That's not such a great story.

LEXY: Oh, jog on, Ethan. It's a great story! So, listeners, we were all drinking. This is pretty close to the outbreak. Actually, Clara and Damien weren't permanent residents. They were just swinging by for the evening. So, we were on... white wine, I think? We were down to the white wine.

ETHAN: It was rosé.

LEXY: Right, rosé. Thank you. And suddenly the door opens and a zombie walks in. None of us remembered to lock the door. And we're all deathly quiet all of a sudden. And it doesn't notice us! It just drags itself in here and leans on the bar and groans. You know how they do. [imitates zombie groan]

[everyone laughs]

ETHAN: Of course, of course. And at this point, I'm behind the bar, and I'm - obviously - drunk.

LEXY: Right, Ethan's drunk. And he's – what were you doing?

ETHAN: Uh, washing up glasses, I think?

LEXY: Yeah. So, we're all deadly silent, sat downstairs by the pool table, and I reach for my crowbar, and I'm thinking, can I close on this thing before it notices? Am I too drunk? What if we get blood everywhere? And Damien was freaking out, and Clara – what?

CLARA: I didn't know what to do?

LEXY: So, I'm about to stand up when Ethan stands up from behind the bar, drunk as you like, and says, "All right, mate, give me a second. I'm just putting these glasses away." [CLARA laughs] And the zombie's all, [imitates zombie groan] and I'm on my feet quick – because it's got a different target now! - and Ethan. Ethan realizes what's going on, and just chucks the pint glass at it!

ETHAN: [laughs] Missed!

LEXY: Missed, yeah, and nearly hit me, but I managed to club the zombie in the back of the neck while it was picking out its order. I mean, I reckon that's what it was doing. Incredible bar tending, Ethan. And it goes down. No blood, no mess. Then we kick the corpse out the door and open another bottle, and – well, we needed it for the shakes. It's one thing when they're outside, but when they get indoors – ugh. It doesn't bear thinking about.

ETHAN: I tell you, we never forgot to lock the door after that, huh?

LEXY: No, sir.

ETHAN: Well, enough of our escapades and weaponized bar tending. Clara, do you want to pick out a song?

CLARA: Oh. Okay. [clears throat] Hello, listeners! This one coming up next is one of my favorites. We used to listen to it in the car on the way back from church.

CLARA: So how long have you two owned this place?

ETHAN: It's just mine. I mean, I used to own it with my wife, but I picked it up after the divorce. Lexy helps out. She used to run security here, didn't you?

LEXY: I did. I still do, really.

ETHAN: I'd be screwed without you. It's been mine since uh, just before the outbreak, really. I've had to do my best to keep things taking over. I was always more interested in drinking than bar tending, I think.

LEXY: You and me both. Ethan and I met after we finished uni back in Norwich.

ETHAN: [laughs] After I finished uni. You dropped out.

LEXY: He was a jerk back then, too, you'll be pleased to hear.

ETHAN: Oh man, remember the crawls? [sighs] There used to be a group of us, about 20 or so, and we'd do a crawl a month. Back before I owned this place, anyway. The last Friday of every month.

LEXY: The Last Friday Club.

ETHAN: [laughs] Oh man. I wonder if they're still out there.

LEXY: Those boys? End of the world wouldn't stop them from drinking, mate. Remember that one Christmas, when all the buses were cancelled because of the snow?

ETHAN: Yeah. You recreated all the pubs in my house.

LEXY: I did indeed. We had The King's Arms in the bathroom, if I remember correctly.

ETHAN: Oh, it was beautiful! We got so drunk! Oh, on that subject, I've got a shipment coming in soon that I think you'll all be very interested in.

CLARA: Yeah?

ETHAN: Oh yeah, definitely. Something very special. And with that dramatic revelation, dear listeners, I'm going to bed. You two okay to turn off the lights before you go?

LEXY: Yeah. Check the barricade, will you?

ETHAN: Always.

LEXY: Hello, listeners. Ethan's tucked up in bed now, so it's just Clara and I awake. Say hello, Clara.

CLARA: Hello!

LEXY: I've been thinking. You, the listener, don't know what the pub looks like, do you? So we're going on a tour now. A virtual tour, because we don't have wireless mics.

CLARA: I could make walking noises, if you like. To pretend.

LEXY: Good. Do that. So, here we are in the recording studio, which is the old upstairs room at the back of the pub. There's a lot of books in here, which helps to mask outside noise. Not that there's a lot of outside noise these days.

We're all set up around a table in the middle of the room, and every session, Damien and Ethan fight for the decent leather chair. Looks like Damien won this time, because his campaign notes are still on the table in front of it. Shall we take a look?

CLARA: Lexy! Those are private! We'll get in trouble.

LEXY: It's fine, I'm sure. I'll tell him it was your idea. [paper rustles] I can't see mention of our characters anywhere. Hmm... no. Oh! Oh man, Clara, look at this.

CLARA: Uh, at what?

LEXY: He's categorized the zombies. Like, the ones outside? Legit, look! He's got shamblers, grunts, drones, rotted behemoth – what's a behemoth?

CLARA: It's a big monster, I think. You should put those away.

LEXY: [paper rustles] Jesus. He statted the encounter we had with the zombie that came in here. Do-do you reckon he's got stats for us? Like, us us?

CLARA: Probably, I mean... come on! Let's go look at something else. Virtually.

LEXY: I hope he gave me a decent strength score. Anyway, moving on. Up the stairs, we have... upstairs, Clara?

CLARA: Sorry! Sorry. [taps footstep noises on table]

LEXY: Good! Up the stairs, we have our bedrooms. Ethan's got the double bed. I'm in the spare room. Clara's in a box room in a single bed, and Damien's set up on a mattress in the old living room.

CLARA: There are a lot of very expensive jackets up there, by the way. I've been meaning to ask about them.

LEXY: Look, I stole a lot of jackets. The world was ending! I figured I'd prepare. And, you know, if you're going to steal something, you might as well steal a nice version of it.

CLARA: I should mention, listeners, that Lexy's wearing a lovely jacket at the moment. And indeed, at all times.

LEXY: Thank you. Moving downstairs. [CLARA taps footstep noises on table] Thank you! We reach the bar proper, which is a tremendous hardwood thing. We've got a pool table down there, and you know, a nearly complete set of balls. Some tables, some chairs. A stage with a karaoke machine set up on it. You know, if it weren't for the fact that we've run out of booze, this isn't a bad place, really. I'm a bit harsh on it.

CLARA: I'm correct in saying that you didn't have the pool table and karaoke machine before the outbreak, is that right?

LEXY: You are right. Pool tables, as it turns out, are bloody heavy. Donna insisted, though.

CLARA: We should talk about Donna.

LEXY: Yeah. Donna's an old mate of ours. All of ours. And she brought the roleplayers back here after the zombies took over. She had a good head on her shoulders.

CLARA: Yeah. We lost her, though.

LEXY: Out on a scouting mission down in Felbrigg Hall. We went left and she went right and we've not seen her since. Which means, according to the rules of cinema, she's not dead. She's just off-screen. Right. Listeners, if you've lost someone important to you, why not write in? "If."

CLARA: Yeah.

LEXY: And here we are outside the pub, listeners. I mean, not really. We're still inside. We're pretending. Clara's doing sound effects.

CLARA: Um, I don't know what sort of effects you need for outside at night.

LEXY: Owls? [CLARA imitates an owl] Wonderful! Outside, we've got the still, which we've been scavenging for a while to get bits for. We're nearly done. I'm looking forward to some vodka. It's been a while. And past that, the decrepit remains of the pub play area.

CLARA: That place creeps me out.

LEXY: Listeners, pub play areas are grim at the best of times, but I have personally – personally! - killed a zombie by breaking its neck in between the bars of that merry-go-round. So this one is particularly bad.

CLARA: Then it's the fence, right?

LEXY: Right. After that, we've got the fence. Luckily for us, The Green Man was semi-detached, which basically makes it a fort. We've had, what? Mm, four fences, now? It's hard to keep track. We update it all the time. At the moment we've got a bunch of metal siding that we lifted from a boat repair shop up by the pier. It's pretty swish, if you ignore the shoddy welding.

CLARA: And past that, [?].

LEXY: Yeah. Scenic [?], population: sod off! We're one of three pubs here, although the other two have shut, presumably because the owners are cowards.

CLARA: And... that's the tour. That's everything.

LEXY: Yeah. Right. I think it's time for bed now. Can you stick something on to see them through the night?

CLARA: I've got just the thing. This always helps me sleep. See you for the next game, listeners!

DAMIEN: Welcome, adventurers, to the world of Demons and Darkness. You find our heroes in a bind. Two days from now, the evil Baron's armies will be amassing at the gates, and they've just found out that spies are already inside the city, plotting to take them down.

ETHAN: I'm going to take a look for the spies.

DAMIEN: Noglob, you are a master of the secret parts of the city, so this should be easier for you than the other players. Make a roll and add your Notice and Discretion skill.

ETHAN: [dice rattle] Hmm, that's a 19.

DAMIEN: Good enough! You spend the day asking your network of contacts, and some of them mention that they've seen some weird folk in town, hanging around near the burned-out church.

ETHAN: The one that I burned down last campaign when I was playing a Scarlock?

DAMIEN: The very same! In fact, it seems like Scarlocks again – wizened folk with creepy eyes and strange sigils tattooed onto their skin.

CLARA: Let's go sort them out, then. Let's bring Sarazelle's glorious judgment upon them.

DAMIEN: Sure! Well, you all go down to the church, and you can see that some of the stones have been recently moved. They're hiding a hidden passage down beneath the floor.

ETHAN: Okay. I move the stones out of the way and lead everyone down, staying quiet.

DAMIEN: You all walk down a cramped tunnel for a while, before you come out into a wide open area with columns along either side. You can see a group of five Scarlocks, all gathered around a purple flame, whispering and chanting to each other.

LEXY: I turn into a giant boar woman and charge!

DAMIEN: And they run the hell away! [LEXY sighs] Roll for initiative.

DAMIEN: The Scarlocks split into two groups. One group goes left into a set of winding tunnels, and the other goes right into a maze of tombs and statuary.

LEXY: I'll go for the tombs.

CLARA: I'll come, too. I have to make sure they're not desecrating the dead.

ETHAN: I use my Goblin Teleport to appear in front of the ones on the right, and just sort of hold my short sword out against my chest, so the first one to run into me gets shanked in the gut!

DAMIEN: Ethan, that's a fine plan. We'll resolve it in a bit. Lexy, Clara, I'll need you to take part in a chase using the chase rules. Uh, what are your relative ground speeds?

CLARA: 30 foot around.

LEXY: Ugh, really? I just want to kill things. I don't even know, I... wait here. It says it's 40 feet. Does that sound right?

DAMIEN: It does. Okay, now we've done that, I need to factor in the ground speed of the Scarlocks and look it up on the chase matrix. Can you roll for me, Lexy?

LEXY: [dice rattle] Hmm, I got a seven. What for?

DAMIEN: Okay, so that puts us in column F, which means you catch them! Oh, wait, this is the daylight chase matrix, and you're in darkness. I need to use the other one. Hang on.

LEXY: Ugh. Kill. Things.

ETHAN: Music, I think, while we delve into the matrices.

DAMIEN: Okay, Ethan. Just to recap: you've died once, but you've replaced the soul you spent?

ETHAN: Yeah. One of them poked me in the eye with their wand so hard, it killed me. It's pretty humiliating. But I got the other one too, so I've got two souls splashing about me now.

DAMIEN: You know that Scarlocks only have half a soul each, right? They trade half off their patron in exchange for -

ETHAN: - in exchange for their magical powers! Yes. Damn it! Well, that rounds up to one soul anyway, so I'm still good to go.

DAMIEN: Luna and Ethyris, although you lost the Scarlocks during the chase -

LEXY: Thanks, darkness table.

DAMIEN: - you can hear them ahead of you, out of breath, wheezing. It seems like they're talking about summoning something. "Have you deconsecrated the sepulchers, brother?" "Aye, sister, I have indeed. With dagger quick, I have broken the ancient seals. Soon the armies of undeath will march at our beck and call!" "Oho!" says the third. "Those meddling heroes will soon know our true power!"

LEXY: Armies of undeath?

CLARA: Not the sepulcher. I stride forward and kick off my Radiant's Divine Power and start shining bright in the darkness. "Your plans are undone, vile Scarlocks!"

DAMIEN: They notice you. "Argh, curses!" They turn to flee, but this is a dead end, and there's nowhere to go.

CLARA: "Undo your spell, necromancers!" I shout, and ready my hammer.

DAMIEN: "It's too late now, priest! The seals are broken. The plans are in motion. Soon, the Baron will have full control of the long-dead army that lies buried beneath this city."

ETHAN: Hang on! Hang on. Armies of undeath? D-do you... do you mean zombies?

DAMIEN: Uh, yeah. Zombies.

ETHAN: Yeah, but zombies, though?

DAMIEN: What about them?

ETHAN: What do you mean, what about them? They exist! They're outside the bloody door! I heard them moaning off in the distance last night.

DAMIEN: Demons and Darkness is a horror game, Ethan.

ETHAN: Yeah, sure! But it's just a little – [sighs] I don't know. It's close to home.

LEXY: It's all right, Ethan. We kill zombies all the time. Nothing to get upset about.

ETHAN: Sure, we do it all the time. It's our daily bloody existance. This? This is supposed to be – what's the word? - escapism, right?

CLARA: Damien, maybe you could just change the type of monster, to like, ghosts, or ghouls, or something?

DAMIEN: It's part of the adventure. This is a mature game for mature people.

ETHAN: Sure, real mature.

LEXY: Ethan, calm down. It's fine. Yes, it's a bit of a cliche, but I think zombies have been on all our minds a lot recently, haven't they? Maybe this'll be cathartic. You know, kill a few zoms with no consequences? Hell, maybe you'll even hit one of them with your pint glass this time, eh?

ETHAN: Yeah, maybe.

LEXY: Okay, good. Let's press on.

DAMIEN: Welcome back, adventurers. Our heroes are facing off against some terrifying Scarlocks, masters of black magic and necromancy, in the tunnels under their town.

CLARA: I stomp forward and smash at one with my hammer. I'm doing Divine Damage, so does that affect the roll?

DAMIEN: It does indeed. You do an extra five damage. Roll for it.

CLARA: I bring my hammer up in a mighty swing, and roll a – [dice rattle] 22. Which is enough, right?

DAMIEN: Great.

CLARA: And that's 16 points of damage in total. Cool. So I crack her underneath the chin and she arcs back into the air.

DAMIEN: She slumps to the ground. And then something boils out of her robes, like a solid black smoke, glittering with teeth and eyes.

CLARA: Oh dear...

ETHAN: I'm going blend into the shadows alongside the wall and get myself set up for a back stab next round!

LEXY: I've already used up my transformation, but I'm still kind of angry, so I'm going to cut these wizards up good with my great axe, and howl while I do it. "Blargh!" I roll a – [dice rattle] three. That's bad, right?

DAMIEN: It's not good. The two that you're engaged with slash at you with their big long knives, doing – [dice rattle] 17 damage. They open up cuts in your arms, and the cuts itch like there's a poison in them or something. Your vision swims.

LEXY: Not good at all. Another couple of those, and I'm down.

DAMIEN: Clara, the mess of shadows forms up into a single tall pillar, crackles with arcane energy, and whips out a tendril to grasp your hammer. In the center of the pillar, you can see a pair of red eyes glaring out at you.

CLARA: I blast at it with holy energy from my sacred symbol.

DAMIEN: Your symbol hums like angels singing, and the thing recoils in horror. I need to look this up in the divine retribution table. Ethan, can you stick something on to be attacked by a vengeful god to?

ETHAN: Sure. Ha, yes! This is perfect.

DAMIEN: Lexy, uh, Luna's bleeding from a bunch of wounds. You're only just clinging on to life.

LEXY: Are the Scarlocks dead yet?

DAMIEN: All but one.

LEXY: Okay. With an almighty roar, I lunge forward and grab the last one. [dice rattle] I assume a 24 will be okay – and drive his head down into the edge of a tomb for – [dice rattle] 12 damage.

DAMIEN: You crack his skull like an egg!

LEXY: Excellent! I collapse.

CLARA: What are your hit points at?

LEXY: Uh... -18. No, wait. -21.

CLARA: What?

LEXY: It's a Wyld-Dottir thing. I can keep going until the end of the fight.

DAMIEN: Which is now.

CLARA: No way! I rush over there and heal you. I call on the goddess Sarazelle for her healing energy and channel it through my body into yours.

DAMIEN: Okay. This is a Raise Dead, though, right? At this point? That's a big expenditure.

CLARA: I'm not just going to leave her down here to die.

LEXY: Thanks, Clara. You're a sweetheart.

DAMIEN: You feel Sarazelle's energy coursing through you, Ethyris. This isn't easy magic, and this isn't the sort of spell you call upon casually. You can feel your joints ache and your skin sting under the stress of it.

CLARA: I help Luna up. "Come on! We have to go warn the Mayor. Again."

DAMIEN: Seeing as the next scene is a fairly big one, I think we'll call it there for tonight. Also because Ethan's been looking at that package on the sideboard for the past two hours with a look of excitement in his eyes so intense, I can't bear for him to sustain it any longer.

LEXY: What's in the box, Ethan?

ETHAN: Something very special.

DAMIEN: I didn't even know they made banana schnapps. I didn't know that was a thing.

ETHAN: [imitates fanfare] Banana schnapps! Ladies and gentlemen, pre-collapse, authentically-sealed, individual plastic shot glasses filled with banana schnapps! Can you believe the runners were trading this?

LEXY: Yes.

ETHAN: But it's a drink! We used to do shots, remember?

LEXY: I mean, I'm thankful. I'm not going to turn it down, mate. A drink's a drink.

DAMIEN: And so soon after our experiment with the pruno, as well! An embarrassment of riches.

ETHAN: Quiet, you. You don't get any.

DAMIEN: I don't want any. It looks disgusting.

CLARA: May I... may I have some?

ETHAN: Of course you can! You didn't strike me as a schnapps fan.

CLARA: I figured I might as well give it a try. I was never much one for drinking, but – [laughs] it's not going to be what kills me, is it?

ETHAN: Hey, that's the spirit!

CLARA: I'll just try one to start with, I think. Can I put some music on?

LEXY: Sure. Let me get you the MP3 player.

CLARA: Okay... this, I think, suits the mood.

CLARA: I really like you guys.

ETHAN: Aw, that's very kind.

CLARA: No, I mean it! I mean... I mean, it's the end of the world. You could have just turned us away. We're just more mouths to feed. But we turned up, and we needed a place to hide out, and this was the pub where we played Demons and Darkness! And you were there, and Lexy was there, and... and we've survived, you know? Together.

LEXY: How much of that schnapps have you had, love?

CLARA: I miss it sometimes. You know. The world. Back before all this, back when it was all... forever. Because it's not forever, now, is it? Everything's just for now. Maybe not even that. But you look after us, and we have fun! Well, I have fun. I love being Ethyris. I love... I love helping people. I love it when we have fun! And I miss Donna.

DAMIEN: Me, too.

ETHAN: I miss a lot of people.

CLARA: Do you miss your wife?

ETHAN: [sighs] Yeah. I messed that up. I did everything wrong.

LEXY: I miss... chips.

ETHAN: Oh, chips! [everyone laughs] Just having chips whenever you wanted them. I remember that. And cheese. I haven't had actual cheese since the outbreak, I don't think.

LEXY: Cheesy chips.

CLARA: Oh, cheesy chips! I love them! How to get some... how do we... oh.

DAMIEN: I would like sushi.

ETHAN: Sorry?

DAMIEN: I would like sushi, I think. I'd like a plate with more nigiri on it than I can count – and I can count pretty high. I'd like a cold glass of decent white wine, and more nigiri than I can count, and one of those awful shots of banana schnapps, please, right now.

ETHAN: [laughs] Here you go, mate.

DAMIEN: Ladies and gentlemen, get out your character sheets. I have an idea.

DAMIEN: Welcome, adventurers. The Mayor's gone. Left town, leaving his house full of valuables entirely open for access, which is convenient.

ETHAN: Righto. I fill my boots. Gold, silks, antiques, the lot.

LEXY: Me, too.

CLARA: I don't know, guys. This seems like it's not quite -

LEXY: Sweetheart, we're going shopping, and if we're going shopping, we need money. Now, the Mayor isn't going to need it, is he?

CLARA: I guess not. Okay. I take a few things. Nothing irreplacable!

ETHAN: I only take irreplacable things. [laughs]

LEXY: Right. Shopping.

ETHAN: No, food first!

LEXY: Yeah, food. That's much better. So we go to the inn, and I'm like, "Innkeep? Bring me of two of everything!"

DAMIEN: "Two of everything?"

LEXY: "You heard me! Give me two big, fat roast chickens, dripping with fat and overloaded with stuffing. Give me two great loaves of bread, and two hunks of hard cheese, and two jugs of ale - only one glass, mind. I don't know what the others are having - and two platters of roast veg, and two – yeah, two! - jellies with custard and ice cream!"

DAMIEN: "Ice cream, fair Wyld-Dottir? I've not heard of such a thing before - "

LEXY: Give me some ice cream, damn it, Damien!

DAMIEN: "Ice cream. Right you are."

LEXY: "And a drink for everyone in the pub. Let's do this. Let's get loaded!"

DAMIEN: The food arrives, and the table is groaning under the weight of it all.

CLARA: Chips! I want chips!

DAMIEN: There are chips.

CLARA: I pay for them.

DAMIEN: And the food is glorious, and hot, and fresh, and tasty, and crisp, and greasy, and wonderful! And the ale is good, and the company is perfect, and you sing and dance long into the night.

ETHAN: Aw, excellent! A drinking song next, I think. [sighs] Good night, adventurers.

DAMIEN: Welcome back, adventurers. You join us as our heroes prepare to see off the armies of the wicked Baron, their nemesis, and the armies of undeath that he now commands. As dawn breaks over the city, you can see the massed ranks of his men outside, and reports are starting to filter up that the dead are rising and shambling through the streets. Clara, what's the God Hammer Ethyris doing?

CLARA: I'm marching up and down the wall, preaching to the guards, telling them how they're all going to be safe, so long as they stick with me. "You hear me, boys? Sarazelle has got your back!"

DAMIEN: Last night's charity has turned many of the mercenary elements in town to your side. They cheer along with you. Lexy, what of Luna the Wyld-Dottir?

LEXY: I'm in the streets, looking for zombies, leading a squad of troops to smash any outbreaks we find back down into the tunnels beneath the city!

DAMIEN: You find nothing yet, but you can feel the tension in the air. And Ethan, what of Noglob?

ETHAN: I'm on the roof of the inn, which is one of the tallest buildings in town, and I'm surveying everything, trying to get a handle on it.

DAMIEN: You have a good vantage point. As the sun crests the horizon and light shines down into the valley, the dead rise and the troops begin their march, and you can see the Baron at the head of the army, grinning cruelly.

CLARA: I order our missile troops to fire.

LEXY: I find the biggest group of zombies I can see and smash into them in my boar woman form, leading from the front. "Come on, boys!" I, uh, snort.

ETHAN: I stay where I am. I don't want to commit myself yet.

DAMIEN: Okay. I'll freely admit that this next section is going to use a lot of rules, so you might want to put on some music while I do the maths on this.

DAMIEN: Things are not looking good for our heroes, adventurers. Outnumbered, outgunned, and attacked on two fronts. They're beaten and bloody.

CLARA: I kick off another healing burst on the wall to reinforce the troops. Does it work?

DAMIEN: A little, but you're running low on divinity points. You're going to start burning up on your Stamina score soon.

CLARA: That's okay.

LEXY: How many zombies are there?

DAMIEN: Around you? 20 that you can see. You can't tell how many there are in total. Too many.

LEXY: Ethan, you want to do something other than take potshots with your crossbow? You want to commit?

ETHAN: I'm going to, okay? I'm helping you both.

LEXY: You're helping neither. I'm falling back to the inn. I call a retreat. We can outrun them, yeah? I've outrun a few zoms in my time.  

DAMIEN: Well, for now, yes, but they're fast, faster than you like, and hungry!

ETHAN: Don't bring them to the inn!

LEXY: It's defensible. Clara, if you want in, you fall back too.

ETHAN: Guys, I'm going to... [sighs] I'm going to take a break, okay? You can keep playing. Damien, control Noglob if you need to.

[chair scrapes across floor, door opens]

CLARA: What's going on?

LEXY: Jesus, I should... look, give me a sec. Put the music on.

CLARA: What sort of thing?

LEXY: Anything! Whatever's next on the playlist.

LEXY: When Ethan says he got divorced, that's... mm, that's not true. Anna. That was his wife's name. She died.

CLARA: Oh.

LEXY: In the outbreak. First few hours. They got in. He and I were... he and I were looking out for each other, by which I mean I was looking out for him because I love him, but he couldn't fight his way out of a wet paper bag. But he left her alone and came to me, and... yeah.

DAMIEN: Why doesn't he say she died?

LEXY: I don't know, mate. Guilt? I'd feel bad. I mean, if he'd not been with me, and stayed with her, he'd be dead. So there's that to think about. But there's a lot of stuff going on there. Christ! I've not even really talked to him about it. He just started calling it the divorce around you lot one day, and now here we are.

CLARA: So, you two are...

LEXY: We're what?

CLARA: [sighs] You know what I'm asking.

LEXY: I don't know what we are. Yes. No. I don't know! Neither does he. I wish he did. I wish I did.

DAMIEN: I thought you two were... you know...

LEXY: So did I, for a while. I mean, we were, for a while. I don't know what happened there. Maybe it just wasn't supposed to be. I should go get him. It's not safe out there. I could hear the zoms moaning last night.

CLARA: We're safe, Lexy. We've got the fence.

LEXY: Yeah, well, maybe it's time I talked to him. Anyway, sort out the combat on the wall. We'll be back to finish the rest, I promise.

DAMIEN: Sure, if you think that's for the best. Let me get out the mass combat tables again.

DAMIEN: Welcome back, adventurers. After a series of pretty abysmal rolls, we find our heroes all taking refuge in the tavern. While you managed to keep the armies outside at bay for now, Clara, the undead inside the city are a bigger threat.

CLARA: This is too much to take. We need some breathing room. I'm going to cast a Barrier of Sanctuary over the inn to keep the undead back for a while.

DAMIEN: That's... what's your Stamina score right now?

CLARA: Doesn't matter. I can cast it, right?

DAMIEN: Sure, okay. You intone the sacred words and mark symbols in sacred oils on the four compass points, and the inn seems to glow as light from the heavens shines down upon it. No undead can pass the threshold now.

CLARA: Hwo long have I bought us?

DAMIEN: You're level three, so um, between 35 and 50 minutes.

CLARA: That's better than nothing. Did you hear that? Lexy? Are you there? Are you okay?

[door bursts open]

ETHAN: She's hurt. She's really hurt. [LEXY moans]

CLARA: Jesus, Ethan, what happened?

ETHAN: Zombies! They came out of nowhere. Uh, quite, uh... a big one had torn down the gate at the front, I-I think. I was out back near the still and they rushed me! I'd have been a goner if Lexy hadn't shown up when she did.

DAMIEN: Has she been bitten?

ETHAN: I don't know, I don't think so. She [?] near the back door and landed on something sharp. Oh, this is bad, this is bad! They're massing outside!

CLARA: She's bleeding a lot. Ethan, I need you to get the first aid kit from my room, and some towels, and some hot water if you've got any.

ETHAN: I'll get the candles.

CLARA: Hey, Lexy? Hey! Don't sleep, okay?

ETHAN: How's our patient?

CLARA: She's... okay. I mean, she's leaking a bit, but she's fully conscious now.

LEXY: I'm okay.

ETHAN: You're not going to die, are you? I don't know what I'd do, Lex. Not if you died, not you as well.

LEXY: I'm not going to die. We know how we're going to die, remember? That thing with the rockets? You're not getting away that easily.

ETHAN: Have you been bitten?

LEXY: I don't think so. Just scratches, scrapes. Oh man, I got hurt from where I landed.

ETHAN: Well, you had to jump off a roof at one point.

LEXY: It must have looked awful.

ETHAN: Aside from the landing.

LEXY: Fine. Admittedly, from the landing, yeah. Oh boy, that's sore. That's really sore!

ETHAN: Here. I've got a present for you. I've been saving this for a special occasion.

LEXY: A [?] 15 year old.

ETHAN: Yeah.

LEXY: Ethan, you kept this hidden for... months. Years! You bastard! I don't see how this qualifies as a special occasion, though.

ETHAN: They're at the doors, Lex. Must be a hundred easy! It's the horde, up from Aylsham. Must be.

LEXY: I see. Pass it here, then, eh? [drinks, sighs] That's good. Get on that.

CLARA: I'm not sure that drinking is such a good idea.

LEXY: Come on. What was it you said? "It's not going to be this that kills me."

CLARA: Ah, right. Yeah.

DAMIEN: Are we in danger?

LEXY: Oh yeah, mate. Loads. But we're always in danger, aren't we? Hey, you never put on any music that you like. How about you do that now? Just to see if we can lighten the mood a little, eh?

DAMIEN: I'll... I'll pick something out.

CLARA: Hello. Is this broadcasting? Hi. [clears throat] So, we're in The Green Man, a pub in [?], north of Aylsham, east of Cromer, and we're surrounded by zombies, and we can't get out. And I know the others are too proud to call for help, but this is a really bad situation, and I don't know what we're going to do. So if you're military, I guess, or you're from the Ministry of Recovery, please send help. I don't know how long it'll be before they get in. I'll repeat this message when I can. Please. Help.

CLARA: How is it down there?

ETHAN: Not great. They're not inside yet, but I don't know how long we've got. We've dragged the tables in the way, but I don't know. There're so many of them! Maybe more than a hundred, even. I've not seen this many since the outbreak.

DAMIEN: We grabbed what we could from downstairs, and we shut every interior door, and... I don't know. Maybe one of the sweeps will come through here? What – when's your runner supposed to come past?

ETHAN: Not until next week.

DAMIEN: Oh, great.

LEXY: It's not so bad. We've got the scotch, we've got all the food in the pub, we've got my – did you get my jumper, like I asked?

ETHAN: I don't want you to get blood all over it. It's your favorite jumper.

LEXY: A little bit of blood never harmed anyone. I'll wash it out when this is all over. I just want to put it on now. I'm cold.

ETHAN: Here, then. Let me help you.

DAMIEN: So what do we do?

ETHAN: We wait.

DAMIEN: Until?

ETHAN: Until something happens, Damien. You know zombies. They get bored easily. They'll-they'll see that there's no hope of getting in, and then they'll wander off, you know? Probably down to Cromer, probably. It'll be fine.

CLARA: How are they?

DAMIEN: They're curled up together back there. I think they're sleeping.

CLARA: Good. I'm worried about her. She's not getting better.

DAMIEN: She should heal, right? I mean, logically. She's got a place to rest, you're looking after her -

CLARA: I don't know. It's not like, I don't know. It's not like Demons and Darkness. She's not just regaining hit points, you know? I can't tell what she fell on when she hurt herself. She might need surgery.

DAMIEN: What if she turns?

CLARA: She's not going to turn.

DAMIEN: Oh, and you know, do you?

CLARA: She's okay. I don't think she's going to turn. I'm trained in first aid. I've seen enough bites to know when I see one.

DAMIEN: But what if she does turn?

CLARA: Then it's one zombie! One, we can handle. A hundred, we can't. I've been asking for help on the radio.

DAMIEN: Oh, from whom? The military? The Ministry? We can't rely on them to come and help us. We need to get out of here! Donna would have got us out of here. She understood how everything worked.

CLARA: Yeah, well, Donna's dead, and we're not.

DAMIEN: You don't know she's dead.

CLARA: For heaven's sake, Damien! She got trapped in the visitor's center, swarming with zombies. She's not magic, don't you get that? She didn't ask for help and just ran off, and now she's dead. Doesn't her sacrifice mean anything to - ?

DAMIEN: Shh!

CLARA: What?

DAMIEN: They're inside! I swear I can hear them down there! The behemoth that Ethan mentioned is inside!

CLARA: They're not inside. The doors here are thick. Everything is going to be okay. Someone will notice, and they'll send help, okay? We're safe. I'll stay up. Get some sleep. Is it okay if I listen to music?

DAMIEN: Yeah. Yeah, sure. Thanks. Sorry.

CLARA: It's okay. Listeners, if you're out there, please do send help. Lexy's not doing so well.

CLARA: Listeners, the zombies are inside. I can hear them scraping around. We need help. We need help at The Green Man pub in [?]. Please send help.

LEXY: If anyone's listening, they know by now.

CLARA: We have injured people on site. We need immediate assistance -

ETHAN: All right, Clara. That's enough.

CLARA: What do you mean, enough? It'll be enough when someone comes to help us! Why can't you just ask for help, any of you?

DAMIEN: Help doesn't come. You know that, Clara. How many safehouses have we gone through, you and I, before Donna brought us here?

ETHAN: How many have you gone through.

CLARA: Too many.

DAMIEN: We should get out of here. We should leave.

ETHAN: How? Over the roof? Lexy can barely stand, let alone climb. We can't fight our way out. Our options are limited to this. We've got food and heat and strong doors and at least a quarter bottle of good scotch, and -

LEXY: No.

ETHAN: All right, no scotch. But everything else still stands.

DAMIEN: So we're just going to sit here and wait? Is that all?

ETHAN: That's all we've got! We're not fighters, Damien. We're just sad, scared little people, and the one of us who could protect us is bleeding out into her favorite jumper because I couldn't stand to pretend to talk about zombies. All the people I love are dead or dying, do you follow? I'm done! I'm done running, fighting, hiding. I'm tired! This is it. We can just stare at the walls. The ceiling, maybe, if you feel like a change.

DAMIEN: Jesus...

LEXY: That was very moving. I'm welling up, sweetheart.

ETHAN: You need to hurry up and die if you're going to be like that.

LEXY: Getting there. Seriously, though. What are we going to do?

CLARA: I've had a thought on that front, actually.

LEXY: Oh yeah?

CLARA: I need to have a word with Damien in private.

DAMIEN: Okay! Welcome back, adventurers. You find our heroes in an inn in the center of town, surrounded by zombies. Ethyris' wards are starting to falter.

LEXY: I'm not hopeful about this, boys and girls.

CLARA: "Nonsense. We can survive this. We've got the goddess on our side, after all."

ETHAN: "I get the feeling that we might – we might need more than one goddess."

CLARA: "One's always been just enough for me."

DAMIEN: You notice that Ethyris is looking weak and pale.

ETHAN: Has she been bitten?

CLARA: "That's just what channeling the goddess does to you. I'll be okay. She'll look out for me the way I look out for you. Now, Luna, you can still fight, can't you?"

LEXY: "Yeah."

CLARA: And Noglob, you've got a soul in your back pocket, right? A second chance.

ETHAN: "Um, yeah. Yeah, I do."

CLARA: Well, then. We can stay here and wait for my wards to give out, or we can take the fight to them. I never wanted to die in an inn, comrades. I'm a God Hammer! I'm a warrior at heart! If I'm going to die, it's going to be on my terms.

ETHAN: Yeah, I'm in! I ready my crossbow, and I check to make sure all my swords are still there!

LEXY: I'm hurt, but I can still do some damage. I heft my great axe and stalk towards the door.

CLARA: And I hold up my hammer high, and it shimmers with the last of my strength. Luna, will you do the honors?

LEXY: I kick the door off its hinges and charge out into the chaos, screaming!

ETHAN: I loose a crossbow bolt, draw my knives, and run in as fast as I can!

CLARA: I follow, shining so bright, the heavens turn their eyes!

DAMIEN: Let's do this. Roll for initiative.