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anonymousewrites · 7 months ago

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Burden of Truth (Book 1) Chapter Nine

Father Figure! Marc Spector x Teen! Reader

Father Figure! Steven Grant x Teen! Reader

Mother Figure! Layla El-Faouly x Teen! Reader

Chapter Nine: In the Skies

Summary: (Y/N), Marc, and Layla fight for their lives and work with the gods to discover the location of Ammit's tomb.

(Y/N), Marc, and Layla stood still as the guards kept their guns trained on them. A single wrong move would get them shot, and they were in a bad enough position without being injured or dead.

Mogart approached Marc, eyes narrowed. “Do you really think I’m an idiot? Get on your knees.”

(Y/N)’s eyes widened. “No, don’t!” A guard grabbed them roughly and jerked them back.

“Anton, don’t!” said Layla in alarm, but another guard grabbed her arm to keep her from trying anything.

“Get on your knees,” repeated Mogart.

Clenching his jaw, Marc got down on his knees.

Satisfied, Mogart looked back at Layla and tutted. “Layla, I was so ready to make peace with you.”

“You don’t understand. We’re trying to save many lives,” said Layla.

“Hey, pal. Take a look inside the sarcophagus,” said Marc. “There’s something really, really big.”

Lie. A trick with enough possibility of proverbial truth to lure Mogart closer.

He stepped towards the sarcophagus, but Bek stopped him. He leaned down to Mogart’s ear and spoke in hushed French.

“There’s someone here to see you. He claims to know these three’s true identities and has information for your collection,” said Bek, and (Y/N)’s mind translated it in a instance.

“Well, that’s interesting,” said Mogart, cocking his head and looking around at the group. “It appears we have a concerned third party here.” He stepped into the doorway, and the guards forced (Y/N), Marc, and Layla after him.

Walking towards them with allies on either side was Harrow. “Whatever they’ve told you, I’m sure I can offer you something much more tangible.” Straight to the point.

He lifted the scarab, gleaming gold in the moonlight. Mogart’s greedy eyes landed on the scarab hungrily.

“Why settle for a clue when you can have the treasure?” suggested Harrow.

Lie, lie, lie! “Don’t listen to him, he won’t give you anything!” said (Y/N), and the cold metal of a gun pressed into their head. (Y/N) quieted, and the gun was pulled back slightly.

“Anton. Anton, don’t listen to this man,” said Layla forcefully as they were dragged back across the lawn. “He’s trying to stop us from reaching—”

“Please, stop,” snapped Mogart.

“He’s gonna kill millions, trust me!” said Layla.

Mogart scoffed. “Are you seriously talking about trust?”

“Please, there’s no need to descend into violent accusations,” said Harrow, acting as the ever-calm sage. “Each of you has so much more in common than you know.” Harrow looked at Layla. “Layla, you keep thinking that distance will prevent the wounds from your father’s murder from reopening. But something stands in your way. Your husband doesn’t tell you the truth.” Layla and (Y/N) furrowed their brows and looked at Marc in confusion. He shook his head, but that didn’t stop Harrow from speaking. “And Marc, you don’t tell her because you know that if you do, she’ll see you exactly as you see yourself, as unworthy of love.”

“You piece of shit,” said Marc, narrowing his eyes.

“And (Y/N)—” Harrow’s gaze landed on them, and, instinctively, they avoided eye-contact, unable to sustain it “—you think that the only way you deserve to live is by serving a god because if you don’t, you might as well have died in 2018.”

Flinching, (Y/N) squeezed their hand into a fist. Their nails dug into their palm, and they focused on the sensation. Anything but that memory. Anything but that thought. Anything but that agony.

Satisfied, Harrow lifted his cane, and the stones glowed purple. The light reflected in Mogart’s enchanted gaze. “The lore surrounding these relics, I offer proof that it’s real.” He looked around. “This sarcophagus doesn’t belong to anyone.”

“Do it. Summon the suit.” Khonshu’s voice echoed across the lawn.

“Call it to you,” said Ma’at, and (Y/N) glanced to the roof to see her standing with Khonshu.

“Give them what they deserve,” said Khonshu.

“Anton. Would you like to see for yourself?” said Harrow.

Almost hypnotized by the prospect of power, Mogart nodded and approached Harrow. “I do.”

Harrow began to chant in Coptic, and (Y/N) shivered as the words translated and Ammit’s power filtered into the staff.

“You must act!” said Ma’at.

How? (Y/N) wanted to scream. They’d fought twice, and only once against Harrow’s power. How were they supposed to understand how to act in a situation they had barely encountered?

“What are you waiting for?” snapped Khonshu.

Inside the pyramid, purple light and smoke swirled around the sarcophagus. The coffin collapsed into dust, and the light dispersed. Mogart stared in shock.

“That’s just a taste of the godly power I offer,” said Harrow, walking away calmly.

Mogart turned eagerly towards Layla, Marc, and (Y/N). With a single order, he could kill them and get some of the power Harrow held.

Mogart frowned. “Where is he?”

Marc was gone. The guards looked around in confusion, but Layla and (Y/N) knew where to look. They raised their gazes to another glass pyramid. In his suit, Marc stood and looked down on the men threatening two people Marc wanted to protect.

He raised his arms, flicked his wrists, and the battle began. Two moon-shaped knives spun through the air and landed in the arms of the men attempting to drag Layla and (Y/N) away. Layla grabbed one of the guns from the ground and slammed into another guard while Marc lunged at several shooting at him.

Come on, come on!

(Y/N)’s suit appeared, wrapping around them as they dodged the men grabbing for them. The blue cloth strips wrapped around their hands, (Y/N) reared back, and they punched with heightened strength. The guard they hit went flying and hit another on a horse (fortunately, the horse wasn’t hurt).

At the shots, the people at the carnival screamed and ran, but the men still on horseback grabbed their lances to fight for their employer. Several guards fell to Layla’s shooting, and (Y/N) threw one into the way of others, giving Marc a moment to finish them.

Bullets whizzed by their shoulders, and (Y/N) flinched. The men guarding the carnival were approaching through the dirt track, shooting all the while. Marc grabbed Layla and pulled her under his cloak. The bullets hit the cloth but didn’t go through. Seeing (Y/N), Marc pulled them into the protective cape as well.

Logically, it was likely (Y/N) had similar protection from injury, but Marc couldn’t risk that, and he refused to let go of them or Layla as the firing continued.

“Buy me some time,” said Layla, looking at Marc. “And keep an eye on (Y/N).”

“I can do that,” said Marc.

“I can help,” said (Y/N) forcefully. They had been paralyzed by Ma’at’s demand, but they saw Marc fighting, and they knew they had to be as strong. So they would be.

Marc turned, flipped, and flicked his cloak. The bullets sailed through the air and hit their former shooters, felling the guards. (Y/N) felt their suit for weapons. Last time, they’d been running on adrenaline and barely gotten to figure out what they could do with the suit. Now, they found several daggers shaped like ostrich feathers. The gods definitely liked their themes.

(Y/N) trusted their instincts, reared back, and threw their daggers. They reformed into their holsters after, but the previous hit the opponents (Y/N) was up against. Not waiting to rest on their laurels, (Y/N) kept moving and striking the guards.

Behind them, Marc ran into the horse track and engaged in hand-to-hand combat against the men. Several quickly fell to him, his stamina and strength too much to them. (Y/N) turned towards the pyramids again. Eyes widening, they saw Layla fighting, and struggling, against Bek.

“Layla!” cried (Y/N), running to her.

They grabbed Bek and threw him back. His body went through the glass and hit the ground. Bek groaned and stood up, but at that point, Layla was grabbing what she was trying steal and running at him. She pulled her necklace off, took the sharp ends, and stabbed through Bek’s chest. He gasped and fell back again.

“Go, go!” said Layla, rushing out with (Y/N).

They ran to the track where Marc was stabbed through with several lances (Steven had come back out and gotten overwhelmed). Riding on a horse, another man was approaching to attack. Layla grabbed a gun from the ground and fired. The guard fell.

Steering his own horse towards them, Mogart galloped towards them. He swung his lance at Layla, and (Y/N) pushed her out of the way. The pole hit them, and they were knocked down to the ground.

Marc’s mask disappeared, and he stared in worry as Mogart gabbed a spear, complete with a rounded tip, and turned back towards Layla and (Y/N). Marc’s mask reformed, and Marc snapped the impaled spears. Angry, he pulled out the spears and drove them into his attackers. Within moments, the guards were dead in the dirt, and Marc turned to face Mogart on his horse. The two stared each other down. Layla and (Y/N) were directly in between them, though Layla was trying to pull (Y/N) to the side.

Mogart kicked the side of his horse. Marc ran forward. Lowering his spear, Mogart charged, but Marc was there first. He grabbed Layla and (Y/N). Pulling them to the side, he whirled and threw a dagger back at Mogart. It hit his back, and he fell from his horse.

Leaving the body, Marc knelt and helped Layla guide (Y/N) to their feet. “You alright?”

(Y/N) nodded and winced. “Just a bruise. I’m still getting used to this.”

Layla smiled and squeezed their shoulder. “You’re doing fine.”

At the praise, (Y/N) ducked their head in embarrassment. Clearing their throat, they tried to make eye-contact but quickly opted to just speak. “Um, did you grab what you needed?”

Layla nodded. “I grabbed what Marc was messing with.”

“Good,” said Marc. “Now we just need a car.”

“Come on,” said Layla, leading the way.

Marc and (Y/N)’s suits melted away and they followed.

Cairo zipped by as Layla drove them out of the city and the light pollution so they could properly look at the star map Steven had recognized in Senfu’s sarcophagus.

After he bandaged himself, Marc groaned as he looked at the holes in his jacket. “Ay. I really liked that jacket. Oh, well.” He tossed it to the back beside (Y/N).

“What was Harrow talking about?” said Layla, as straightforward as ever.

Marc froze and looked at her. Evasively, he averted his eyes. “What do you mean?”

“He said I had a right to know,” said Layla.

“I have no idea,” said Marc as he turned and grabbed a fresh shirt from Mogart’s stash in the back. He made eye-contact with (Y/N) and looked away. He knew (Y/N) had felt his lie.

“I never told anyone why I really moved,” said Layla. She gripped the steering wheel tighter. “But he knew. He just saw right through me.”

“He does that,” murmured (Y/N), pulling on a hoodie they’d found. Stubbornly, desperately, they pushed back thoughts on Harrow’s words to them.

“He just messes with everyone,” said Marc, looking between Layla and (Y/N). “Don’t let him do that. Just don’t. He’s got this idea that he can see the true nature of people or some baloney like that. If that were true, I don’t think he’d have a bunch of homicidal maniacs as his disciples, would he?”

“So it’s not true? What he said about you and—”

“No, it’s not true,” said Marc.

Lie. (Y/N) kept their mouth tightly shut.

“He’s just trying to divide us. Don’t let him get in your head,” said Marc.

Layla took a deep breath and let out a frustrated sigh. Trying not to snap at Marc for keeping so many secrets, she looked in the rearview mirror at (Y/N).

“Are you alright, (Y/N)?” she asked.

(Y/N) pursed their lips as they decided how to respond. “I’m recovering from the fight.”

Layla narrowed her eyes. “I meant with Harrow.” She wasn’t letting (Y/N) avoid the issue.

“…I don’t want to talk about it,” said (Y/N), looking firmly out the window.

Layla and Marc exchanged a worried look.

“Try this one,” said Marc, handing another scrap of cloth to Layla and (Y/N), but the torn map wasn’t coming back together.

“Um, no, anything else?” said Layla.

“It’s all just fragments,” said (Y/N) ruefully, shaking their head.

Marc hit the hood of the jeep in frustration. Groaning, he hung his head. “This is gonna take forever.”

Layla looked at him evenly. “Marc, we need Steven.”

Marc put his head in his hands. Weariness was written into every line of his face.

“He understands all of this. I really think it’s worth giving him a shot,” said Layla.

“I summon the gods; you summon the worm,” scoffed Khonshu. “He won’t return the body.”

“Marc,” said (Y/N), and he looked at them. “I know it’s a lot to ask.”

“Marc, we don’t have time,” said Layla, urging him.

Marc pulled the side mirror from the jeep, gathered up the map scraps, and walked a few paces away to talk with Steven. Concerned, (Y/N) watched him go.

Layla groaned. “He can’t seriously be fighting again with Steven.”

“Give him a moment,” said (Y/N), believing in Marc and Steven. They were different but both good men. (Y/N) trusted them.

Sure enough, the man knelt and began putting parts of the cloth together. (Y/N) smiled. Steven was there.

Surprised and still unused to the situation, Layla approached, and (Y/N) followed.

“Don’t need that,” murmured Steven, the British accent having returned with him. “I don’t need that.”

Layla and (Y/N) sat down next to him.

“Steven?” said Layla, unsure of herself.

He looked up. He paused. He smiled. “Egyptians invented modern navigation,” he said excitedly. “There’s not a lot of landmarks in the desert.” Steven crouched in the sand and began working again. “So they came up with a way to get about using the sun and the stars. It’s bloody genius, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” said (Y/N), and Layla nodded, gazing at him softly.

“Et voila.” Steven held up an, ironically, star-shaped map, taped together.

“Wow,” said Layla, looking at it.

“It’s French,” said Steven.

“I know,” laughed Layla. She and Steven stared at each other, and (Y/N) looked between them in confusion. Clearing her throat, Layla focused. “So, what do we do with it?”

“Well, I’m not sure, but if…” Steven stood and trailed off as he realized there were pinpricks through the map. “Hang on a minute. You see that? You see those little pinpricks there?”

“That’s a constellation,” said (Y/N).

“We should be able to triangulate the stars into coordinates, right?” said Layla. She held up a piece of equipment from the jeep.

“It’s not that simple,” said (Y/N), shaking their head. “Senfu made the map two thousand years ago. The stars drift over time, not a lot, but enough to change the sky we see from the map.”

Steven nodded. “It could mean the difference between us searching miles away from where we’re supposed to be looking. So unless we know exactly what the sky looked like on that date…we’re buggered.”

“I remember the night,” said Khonshu.

(Y/N) and Steven looked up. He stood on the sand dunes, and Ma’at was beside him.

“As do I,” she said. “Khonshu is the guardian of the night. I lend balance to the cosmos, the stars. We have lived a thousand years and know each day and night by heart.”

“Is it Khonshu and Ma’at?” said Layla as the two stared at the dunes.

(Y/N) nodded, and they and Steven walked up towards the gods. Layla followed, brow furrowed since she couldn’t hear the gods speaking.

Steven cleared his throat. “Khonshu.”

“We can turn back the night sky,” said Khonshu.

“How?” said (Y/N).

“It will come at a cost,” said Ma’at.

(Y/N) looked at Steven. “She said it will come at a cost.”

“And we cannot do it alone,” said Khonshu.

(Y/N) and Steven stood, looking out over the desert below them, and the gods stood behind them. A soft wind blew the sand around the group.

“Steven, when the gods imprison me, tell Marc to free me,” said Khonshu.

“Imprison?” asked (Y/N).

“We will be interfering with the mortal world in the way they declared we would be punished for,” said Ma’at. She looked down at (Y/N). “You must continue this journey on your own. Free me, but Ammit must be handled first.”

Khonshu and Ma’at raised their hands. (Y/N) and Steven’s suits wrapped around them.

“Do as we do,” said Khonshu.

(Y/N) and Steven copied the deities’ movements. They waved their hands, all four in sync, and the sky lit up with stars. They began to spin, running backwards in time, through decades and centuries of nights.

It was beautiful, and (Y/N)’s eyes widened in awe.

“Whoa. This is mental,” exclaimed Steven, just as awestruck.

“This is the night,” said Khonshu.

“Precisely as we knew it,” said Ma’at.

The sky steadied, and Steven and (Y/N) strained with the gods to keep the past in place.

“This is surprisingly painful,” groaned Steven.

“Keep holding,” said (Y/N), their muscles straining.

Layla held up the screen. “It’s working!” The calculations began for the coordinates.

A pain speared through (Y/N), and they gasped. Behind them, Khonshu and Ma’at fell to their knees.

“I can feel my energy leaving me,” gasped Steven.

It fell away from (Y/N), too, and as much as they tried to hold on, the familiar power they’d grown up with—Ma’at’s—was slipping from them. Steven and (Y/N)’s suits began to disappear as the gods behind them began to dissolve into sand. The other gods had seen what they’d done and given their punishment—imprisonment in stone.

“Layla…we can’t…hold on,” said (Y/N), panting with effort.

“Coordinates found,” said the computer’s voice. “29 degrees north, 25 degrees.”

“I got it!” said Layla.

Letting go in relief, Steven gasped and fell to his knees. Releasing their strength, (Y/N) stumbled back and tried to remain on their feet. They turned and faced Ma’at and Khonshu.

“Ma’at,” croaked (Y/N) tiredly.

Ma’at just gazed at the teenager sadly, and when the wind swept over the dune again, she was carried away in the sand. (Y/N) was left alone, bare of any of the power—purpose—they’d had since they were ten.

The edges of their vision darkened. (Y/N)’s chest constricted in panic. They collapsed into the sand.

“You were right about Khonshu and Ma’at,” said Selim, Osiris’s Avatar. He escorted Harrow through the halls of the Great Pyramid of Giza to where they kept the statues of imprisoned deities. “And in the end, they left us no choice.”

The two statues came into sight, a pair of carved sandstone sculptures less than a foot in height. The once mighty deities were reduced to such a small encasing, unable to escape.

“Now, they’re tethered to this place like many before them,” said Selim.

“Can they hear us?” said Harrow, gazing at the statues.

“We think so, yes,” said Selim.

Harrow nodded and stepped towards the statues. Selim graciously stepped away, allowing Harrow a private moment with the imprisoned remains of the god he was once an Avatar for.

“I enjoyed dealing out pain on your behalf,” said Harrow, almost softly. “That is the greatest sin I carry. I am grateful. Had you not broken me so completely, I might have known the value of healing. I’m going to do what you could not do. I want you to remember one thing. Your torment forged me. I owe my victory to you.” He turned to walk away.

Harrow paused in front of Ma’at statue. He looked down at it and smiled. “And Ma’at, I will make sure all of the knowledge you imparted to young (Y/N) goes to good use. It too will serve my victory well.”

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loosingmoreletters · 10 months ago

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For the ask game Ghostbat, 37

I barely go here anymore babe, you’ll have to excuse the characterizations.

meeting in prison au

Bruce Wayne’s parents die. He copes with it and everything else that happens to him in the next decade as well as one would expect for the richest orphan in the world, pushed around by relatives with sharp teeth and greedy hands. Maybe, in some other world, there’d be someone who cares, but in this one, the Wayne and Kane names are not spoken kindly. Any cousins he has, are much older, distant, and more likely to tell Bruce to stay quiet and out of sight.

Bruce is pulled from school after the first fight he gets into over his parents’ death. It’s just until he’s learned to manage his grief a little better, until he’s fit for society again. He never returns and it suits him just fine. He occupies his days with self-studies in whatever matter interests him and remains unseen as is demanded.

The first real decision Bruce Wayne, all of nineteen, makes about his life, is taking a gun into his hand and shoot the man who ruined his life three times in the chest.

He does so in broad daylight, is caught on the spot, though the police doesn’t have to tackle him down, he’d already on the ground, heaving, throwing up over the gun. Erratic, the report will say later, not a practiced shooter. He isn’t, he’s fired the handgun he nicked from his uncle a hundred times in the forest behind the manor, practiced until perfection, for three shots that will have his parents’ murderer most certainly die a slow and agonizing death.

Poor Bruce Wayne, a fragile child presented only at the right occasions like expensive jewelry.

The sentence they give him is barely a slap on the wrist. After all, so proclaim the papers, what good son wouldn’t avenge their parents?

It should matter, Bruce thinks somewhere, that he perpetuated the same violence as the one that ruined him, ruins him still. It doesn’t matter to anyone, it just feels hollow.

It’s Gotham, they decide on a year in Arkham.

His mental health has never been great, his aunt proclaims in some interview, crying crocodile tears. We had to pull him from school because of it! We tried our best, but poor Bruce, he was hurting so much.

Bruce has no doubt that by the time he is released from Arkham, all of his assets will be seized. All the papers he had to sign to even get admitted, he knows exactly what freedoms he gave up. Bruce Wayne will no longer be of worth to anyone, and that suits him just fine.

It’s fine anyway, there’s no need to live beyond this.

The first month is surprisingly quiet for all that he now resides in Arkham. He supposes the doctors are still careful with him, paid to keep him docile and quiet. They’re probably happy that this criminally insane inmate never throws a fuss, isn’t anything like the freaks they keep downstairs. After all, Bruce Wayne really only got revenge. The motif is clear, his trigger as well. He’s a predictable patient, and the diagnosis they write on their little clipboards amount to nothing more than severe depression. The doses of depressants he’s prescribed is too high, and since nobody expects Bruce to act out, nobody checks if he actually takes them.

More often than not, his therapists end up telling Bruce how happy they are to speak to him instead of anyone downstairs. Bruce’s monotone behavior is well rewarded after the six-month mark, he gets a cellmate.

Anton smiles, flirts, charms, and never speaks of what sentence brought him here.

Bruce isn’t stupid, he figures that whatever it is, it isn’t what he’s actually here for. Anton is amusing in his own way, though Bruce supposes his own reactions to Anton’s flirting are the true entertainment to the other. It’s what you get when you raise yourself in isolation. Anton cracks a joke about attraction and Bruce replies with formula for dopamine.

“You’re smarter than you look,” Anton says one night, out of the blue.

“How’d you know?” Bruce asks in return, his eyes never straying from the page of the book he’s reading, thankful for the moonlight. He can read and keep up a conversation at a same time just fine. Could probably add a third task if he had anything else to occupy his hands with that wasn’t turning a page. Maybe he should ask the doctors to add some creative classes. Cooking would be fun, though he supposes the knives would be a challenge. It’s sad, he misses chemistry.

“The way you talk,” Anton answers.

Bruce doesn’t think there’s anything special about the way he talks. He’s blunt to a fault.

Why did you kill him?

He murdered my parents.

Did you plan this?

Obviously.

Are you taking this seriously at all, Mr. Wayne?

No, sir.

“I don’t say much.”

Nobody wants to listen to poor, orphan Bruce Wayne after all.

“And yet, if I were to ask you how to get to the bottom levels undetected, I’m sure you could tell me, probably open our door as well without anyone noticing.”

Bruce does look away from his page now and finds Anton staring at him with interest, a sincerity about his own character that Bruce hasn’t expected. Anton, Bruce thinks, beneath all his smiles, is angry in a way Bruce doesn’t have the energy or patience for anymore.

Don’t lose your heart, Master Wayne, Alfred said before he returned to England. Perhaps love would’ve suited Bruce better than endless anger.

“Is that what you’re actually here for?” Bruce asks instead.

“Mhm.” Anton leans back on his bed. He brags about his morning routine outside of Arkham, but he looks plenty pretty to Bruce even without. “My teacher sent me here with a little task. Said Gotham is the best place to practice.”

It’s Gotham, Bruce doesn’t really want to imagine what kind of task Anton has been sent here for.

“Do you want my help?” It’s easier to simply cut the chase.

“Maybe.” Anton tilts his head. “Do you want to get out of here?”

Bruce shrugs. He’s got nowhere better to be, really. “Are you offering a place to stay after?”

Anton grins and it’s more honest than any of his previous flirting, though Bruce supposes that wasn’t entirely for show either. “Oh, I’ve got a whole damn world for a brain like yours. Are you in?”

He holds out his hand.

#ghostbat #bruce wayne #minhkhoa khan #dc #batman #dc fanfic #prompts #eventualtoast #ask

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aroaceleovaldez · 7 months ago

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comp of your favorite jason panels maybe?? or maybe an octavian doodle?? i was hit with the silly beam and now i need more blonde roman boys content. mayhaps add any other blonde romans boys you have crafted. i desperately need rick to flesh out camp jupiter the potential is insane - @argoii-official's mod erratum 🤭

MOD ERRATUM!!!!!!! i blow a little kiss to your askblog one mun to another. Tumblr decided it absolutely hated me putting images on this post so I will make a separate one for the favorite deadangelos Jason panels later. A little tiny Octavian for you though (he's grumpy):

and i will dig through my romans to see if there's any other interesting blond boys in there (i still have like two and a half cohorts to design plus messengers and medics, so there is still plenty of opportunity). let's see... oh yes I do indeed have some funky lil blond boys.

Lore for them below the cut:

okay, starting with the canon boys: Jacob i've made a son of Venus and i've decided is best friends with Terrel and Bobby. He's a shy and quiet kind of guy but he's doing his best. Also insert my hc about 5th cohort being more likely to be direct descendants versus legacies here (cause something something lack of letters of recommendation). Also because of a mistranslation about his job title my group chat has decided his demigod weapon is a gun. Julius i made a legacy of Indiges (deified Aeneas) based on his name. I haven't decided too much for him other than I think it would be interesting if Jason used to have a crush on him at some point.

VES okay Ves is fun. So first things first: scene kid my beloved. Scene kid with a bee theme. The joke is the hair stripes. His lore is that he's a legacy of Mellona (goddess of honey/bees) and he has a big ol' crush on Gerard, because Gerard is emo and they have similar music tastes.

Gerard i am going to be completely honest is 100% themed on MCR. I like listening to music when I design characters and I thought it'd be funny also i realized the name Gerard works thematically for a Mars kid. It all came together. Anyways he's emo, he's an MCR fan, no he does not know Ves has a big ol' crush on him. Ves is dying, squirtle.

Edgar is a son of Lua, a goddess to whom weapon spoils of war were sacrificed to. He's just kind of a cool edgy guy. Not pictured is his bestie, a girl named Felicity Pace, who is a legacy of Abundantia and Pax, and is also in 4th cohort. They're opposites-attract thematically (war vs peace, low energy vs high energy) but also they're both fashionistas and extremely dramatic.

Anton is my extremely self-indulgent pointing at Mars and how to the Romans he was also a god of civilization and ideal Roman life, which included him being an agricultural god, so legacy of Mars and child of Ceres. He's grumpy but he's very passionate about plants.

They're all mostly just meant to be background characters fleshing out Camp Jupiter for Deadangelos so they don't have a ton of meat to them, but I like to try and give them all at least something. At the very least a hobby, theme, interest, or relationships. Something along those lines.

#riordanverse #pjo #pjo ocs #my art #Anonymous #ask #deadangelos #YIPPEE mod erratum!#i hold your askblog so preciously it is so delightful to me #also i love drawing Octavian with just. all his hair is sticking straight up #he's an apollo kid his hair is like a plant it's trying to reach the sun #but it makes him constantly look like a mad scientist. which he might as well be

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pinkeoni · 1 year ago

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Writing Byler into the Narrative: Chekhov's Lie

Am I making a post about a topic that has already been talked into the ground and needs no further explanation? Yes! Because it's my blog and I get to talk about whatever I want.

So when discussing whatever the biggest "byler proof" is, the easiest and best answer is simply "the narrative." But what exactly does that mean?

Well aside from the characterization and themes tending to point in that direction, there's also a major literary rule at play— Chekhov's Gun

So this is Anton Chekhov.

Famous Russian playwright. Prolific short story author. Very important to the dramatic and literary world.

Chekhov sees one of his colleagues plays and writes him a letter that says "Hey, if you're gonna go through the effort putting a gun on stage, just make sure it goes off, okay? Otherwise, don't put it there." or something to the effect of that.

"Chekhov’s gun is a dramatic principle that suggests that details within a story or play will contribute to the overall narrative. This encourages writers to not make false promises in their narrative by including extemporaneous details that will not ultimately pay off by the last act, chapter, or conclusion. Chekhov’s gun has become a highly influential theory of effective writing that mandates noticeable details are integrated into the plot trajectory, character development, and mood of the work."

Here's a simple example of Chekhov's gun used in the show:

Chekhov's Purple Palm Tree Delight

While burying Hero Agent Man in the desert, Argyle get's stressed out and Jonathan tells him in supposedly a throwaway line to smoke some Purple Palm Tree Delight to help him feel better.

And then later in the Piggyback when they need to distract the Argyle clone in the Surfer Boy Pizza, BAM. Jonathan pulls out a fresh Purple Palm Tree Delight.

What serves as a small detail in one episode, serves a larger purpose in a future episode. It's a very simple yet effective plant and payoff. The gun has been Chekhov'd.

What happens if the gun does not Chekhov?

For this I'll use an example from a different show, here's a scene from Euphoria season 2. (spoilers, btw)

At the start of the scene, the character Nate loads a gun from inside of his car as he is going to confront his dad. We have seen this gun before. Oh my god, is Nate going to kill is dad? The audience may wonder.

Nate then puts the loaded gun into his right pocket as he enters the building where his dad is staying.

Later in the scene, we see Nate reach into his right pocket and pull out the gun he just loaded.

We then see Nate put the gun away into his left pocket, reach back into his right pocket, and pull out— a flash drive?

Granted this flash drive does have pre-established importance, but why the fuck did Nate have that gun with him, if he wasn't going to use it? The most basic rule of a Chekhov's Gun?

I know that it was likely there just to build suspense for the audience, but considering that Nate's gun has already been established (and used) earlier in the season, the show didn't need to build-up the importance of the gun earlier in the scene if it wasn't going to payoff. If we saw Nate putting his hand into his pocket in a threatening way, there might be enough there for the audience to suspect he has his gun in there before doing the twist with the flash drive. It would have given the same effect of suspension and subversion of expectations without it feeling like a shitty non-payoff.

I can only speak for myself, but when this happened I was just baffled and annoyed. What was the point of all that? When a Chekhov's Gun doesn't go off, it feels super unsatisfying.

Another good example of a gun that never Chekhov'd is the Jules-cheating storyline that became inconsequential, was not the reason Jules and Rue even broke up, was seemingly forgotten and forgiven by the end, and did nothing but give fans a reason to hate Jules.

And Now: The Van Scene

We've all seen it and we all know it. Will gives Mike the painting we saw earlier in the season, the one that's supposed to be for someone that he likes, which was a Chekhov's Gun in itself. We saw the painting earlier in the season and now it's being revealed. The gun is Chekhoving.

Really the painting itself has already payed off, but what this scene does is establish a new Chekhov's Gun that has yet to go off, and that's the lie that Will told Mike— that the painting was from El, not him.

Even if this wasn't the "friends don't lie" show, I mean, a lie in a tv show that goes undiscovered and has no major consequences? I mean come on. It's almost too obvious.

Did this gun already Chekhov?

Technically there is still somewhat of a payoff to this lie being told, even if the reveal that it was a lie hasn't happened yet. We see the consequences of Will's lie in this scene here:

Ah yes, the monologue. You know the one, where Will is over Mike's shoulder the whole time, the one spawned by Will remarking "your the heart" which is a reference to the van scene we all just witnessed in which Will pours his heart out to Mike under the guise of it actually being El's feelings? Yeah that monologue.

Contrary to popular belief I am of the opinion that Mike's monologue is NOT the reason El lost to Vecna, however Mike finally confessing immediately followed by El losing does not make it look any better for them. I don't think that the lie had world ending consequences, but it definitely had emotional ones.

The reveal of the lie can lead to one of two things happening (not all once)

Mike finds out that Will lied to him about El commissioning the painting. Mike and El stay together despite it all, Will accepts that Mike doesn't love him back.

Mike finds out that Will lied about El commissioning the painting. El and Mike do not stay together because the feelings of love are not genuine. Mike and Will, despite Will's expectations, end up together since that what Mike's feelings of love are in response too.

The biggest difference between the first scenario and the second scenario is that the first one is already happening right now.

Mike and El are still together by the end of the season, and Will already thinks that he doesn't have a chance with Mike.

Why cock the gun if setting it off is just going to keep things the way they were?

Of course this Chekhov's gun isn't the only "proof" working in byler's favor, and I wouldn't have suggested the second scenario if the show didn't also give Mike an arc where he couldn't say I love you to his girlfriend, make him act weird around Will, actively push themes of non-conformity, among other things.

Combined with everything else, I do still consider Chekhov's Gun to be the biggest proof of byler. Not following through with one of the most popular rules of dramatic writing just to hold together a weak relationship? OK

tl;dr: Byler canon because a Russian playwright said so

#havent really had an analysis in a while so here is a post about a thing everyone already knows about #but god dammit if i dont love narrative conventions and applying them to my hyperfixation #my analysis #stranger things #byler #tw guns

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lobyuslucas · 4 days ago

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I spent the time of my life writing a voice script for Aubrey at Indie Fortress

Not all possible lines from the game but only the most important ones

-Start of the match Bullets Delivery ! Time to kick some ass Turn it up Hell yeeeeeeeea Show time Let's rock it on Rise and shine, fellas, let's win this Time to break it down

-Domination (Without any specific character) Does the ground taste good there? You should have known that the last thing you would see in your life would be the muzzle of my gun If you were looking for someone to step on you, you found it. EAT THIS Put your mangy ass out, piece of shit Ohh well, I thought it was going to be a real fight Disappoint me less next time! Hey, did anyone see the competition? Because I only see people being humiliated! If that was the best you got, you don't even need to go back, okay? If you gonna fall like this, better not leave spawn, chucklehead I'm gonna need a counter to see how many times I'm going to shoot you until you fall, huh I'm the best! Now repeat after me, I. OWNED. YOUR. ASS Haha, someone here needs some survival lessons, huh?

-Dominating another Scout Don't try to displace me who was born for the throne, faker In the end we know that the original always remains on top Try to come up with an excuse not to come next time. And that's the difference between those who face and those who run

Dominating Soldier (Peppino) Did your fat ass slow you down ? This is the tortoise versus the hare, diabetes man Learn to speak good English so you can come at me, Italian Nice hustles, Chronic Anxiety. Don't forget your diabetes meds when you get back You stupidly embarrassed your uniform, nothing new here Your breath is worse than the seasoning on my grandma's pasta. And look, she's already dead Pineapple on pizza is enough to ruin your brain, frankly. Just relax, take a deep breath and enjoy your death I only advanced your side, you would already die of a heart attack

-Dominating Pyro (Sunny) If you want to settle our accounts, then stop murmuring We've done this before, needing Kel to hide your ugly face? There is no funeral for you, you don't deserve one Fire won't hide your pain in your soul, and I'll make it worse I'm not gonna ask you to give a message to Mari, you might be burning in hell You should never have left your bubble, now your fear is me now For a guy who never says anything, you're pretty predictable! After all the years you dare to show your face to me, then I will give you instant karma Hiding your ass from me doesn't work, not now or ever again I just wanted to know… did you really think you were going to escape me forever?

-Dominating Demoman (Anton) Try to bomb this here, drunk beggar Guess what, I'm faster than hell, burp machine I'm a Wrecking Ball chasing your ass to kick it out of here, demolisher It will be difficult to reach the speed of my burst with half a dozen alcohol So this is the guy who faced Satan, I think it was just the expired whiskey Honestly, I'm not used to facing street beggars in a war If you really aren't even afraid of the devil, then I'm your fear Don't try to drink to forget me, I'll make you redder with anger And that? All this badass fame and you can't even stand up straight?

-Dominating Heavy (Susie) Eat it, Roidy Don't try to hide your ugly face from me, my bullets are faster Get your asteroids here, your extinction is quick like me From here I declare you extinct Don't even try to pass me, I'm just gonna make you more purple Better use your prehistoric reptilian brain next time Bid farewell to what remains of your race, dinosaur If a minigun couldn't hit me, I think the problem is with you. Cry some more, sassy, make my day better

-Dominating Engineer (Gerome) Here's an equation for you, My bullets + Your skull = Your fat brain spread out on the floor You should calculate my speed first to try to hit me, smartass Ah yes, cathetus of the ipotenuse will save you from me, just blink and you are already being dominated I just wanted to know who authorized the janitor to use weapons, that was easier than I imagined Now it's going to be me using your face to clean up the rest of your brain scattered on the floor Now sentries are prohibited, I want to see you dare to return after this Do you have anything intelligent to say now, janitor?

-Dominating Medic (Hero) Tell me, doctor, who is useless now? There's nothing to heal here, I've already massacred your entire battalion Holy God, you are as slow as Kel Medical school won't save you here, housewife No one ever needed your help, you know I'll be a bully, now I'm your worst enemy, weirdo nerd Here's the truth that Sunny didn't tell you, you're a sissy faggot Nothing personal, your fake perfect attitude just irritates everyone, you maniac Get out of here and go back to the kitchen, nurse Here's your reward, fancy pants, gunpowder exploding in your face

-Dominating Sniper (Kris) Oh god, is this serious? Nobody likes snipers, stop acting like the cold and calculating Kris's big tactic is… ignore everyone? Freaking innovative, you bully magnet Hey, moron! Is staying silent a strategy… or just a lack of courage? This "mysterious silence" thing is just an excuse to not face what scares you…it doesn't surprise me Try taking a headshot on this one, faggot emo Take off that fringe if you want to hit me first, son of a hatchet There's something I have that you don't have… the morality to say something Just doing everyone a favor, dirty camper

-Dominating Spy (Chara) You. Are. Adopted. You have no morals to say anything about me Return to the cave you came out of immediately, sneaky cockroach You're like cockroaches and rats, they only serve to crush Don't try to hide your fat ass from me, he always asks me to kick him, bimbo Your cave rat smell reveals your disguise, idiot, so better run from me I was never on your side, just like everyone else, you parasite Your corwardice disgusts everyone, and thank God, you're dead Try to take a stab at this here, you sneaky chick Ah, I thought the "monster" was going to give me a challenge… it just made me sleepy You like a knife in the back, right? Too bad I prefer head-on shooting! All the Spy equipment to lose like that? Oh, what a waste of drama!

-Activate Charge Turn it up, doc Rock it on, doc Rock that shit, hero Let's break it down, hero Drop that crap, homie

-Cart going back (Defense) let's send them to the hole they came from Keep going at this pace, we are humiliating I work with winners, this game is already won This is far from over, push the kart Victory is sweet, for all of us

-Cart going back (Offense) This is ridiculous, where did you guys learn to shoot? You all only have one job, push that bomb Nobody here is retarded, push that damn kart I'm not going to get fired because of all of you guys, push that freakin goddamn kart It seems like I'm doing everything, do you guys want a discount on your salary?

-Cart going foward (Defense) I'm not going to suffer a pay cut because of all of you, stop those dyslexics Work you idiots, they are proceeding with that bomb Just tell me who's holding the team back and I'll fix it myself All you have to do is push them back into the hole, it's so hard to do just one task Someone stop those imbeciles, they're pushing the bomb at us

-Cart going foward (Offense) Everyone with me, PUSH Push the bomb, dumbasses, push that shit Don't stop to sing victory before the time, keep moving forward This is far from over here, let's get 'em I can see their base from here, the victory is all ours

-Push the cart Push that bomb now Push that card now, they're coming Push the damn card, dumbasses I'm not going to do this alone, push the cart Make this bomb move forward, in any way possible PUSH. THE. CARD. BASTARDS Let's go Let's go Let's go, we have work to do

-Stop the Cart Everybody, stop that bomb. Push that thing back in the hole Push that thing back where it shouldn't have gone They're still pushing the bomb, you retards Stop that thing, stop that goddamn cart I still see them advancing with the bomb, you useless idiots Our time is now, stop those little shits I refuse to not complain, do your jobs and stop those incompetents

-Captured control point All ours, their entire base is ours That's what I'm talking about! And it didn't even get my t-shirt dirty. What's next? And the prize for being in charge of this whole mess goes to… me here Take this tasty point and give it to me Today I rented the whole day just for myself This point is mine, don't even try to touch it Y'all should have known that I would come back to get my point Look at me, this is my territory now You all are in my turf now Get your lazy asses out of my turf, morons

-Match tied Today is not my day…what a disappointment Oh Dear God, just kill me already Since we're here I wanted to ask what you all were doing You all managed to be worse than the other team, congratulations It has to be a joke, it's not possible WHY ? JUST WHY? Oh come on, gimme a break Is this some kind of sick joke?

-Revenge You got yourself in trouble, moron, now you better hold your nerves Guess what, I always dominate Back to you, blockhead Yeah, Yeah, Try to kill me again, I can always rub your face on the hot floor again The law of return always works, so it's better to stick with it Don't try to run from me, I always win

-Primary & Secondary weapon kill Eat this, blockhead This here is a real Touchdown Look at the pipe, and smile at the flash (Happy laugh) you had to see your face on the floor (laughs loudly) No, seriously, this is ridiculous Come on, cry some more, you're already ridiculous in yourself Come on guys, give me a real challenge, not these amateurs! You all suck in an indescribable way (Insulting laugh) Get dunked, loser Just know you're going down with my fifty eight clips

-Melee kill Your face is now printed on my bat I don't have time to slow asses like you Get your face on the ground, dumbass she swings, and it's a home run Get this wind-up in your head, moron BOINK! BONK! Time to make your neck spin around Seeing you flying away with your face crooked is just the height of comedy Fly away, dumbass

-Ubercharge effect Now it's the party, and the main star… is me You can call me a legend! Because no one who passes through here will leave alive! Supercharged is merciless, cowards! You all will remember me This is my chance to shine, and you are the stage for slaughter You are just obstacles in my show! Now get out of the way! Know that I will be the last thing you will see in your life You all asked for it… now hold on this wave! Today you guys will see a home run sunk in losers There goes the queen of destruction! And every single of you gonna be transformated in dead meat!

If anyone wants to do a dubbing, make a fan game with this or comics, just give me credit for the idea

For those who are confused, the context is in the post fixed on my profile

#indie fortress #tf2 scout #TF2 Fan Project #TF2 Indie games #Omori Tf2 #Omori Team Fortress 2 #Aubrey Omori #Aubrey Scout #Aubrey TF2 #Indie Fortrees TF2 #Aubrey Omori Scout TF2 #Indie Games TF2

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byneddiedingo · 1 year ago

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Kay Francis, Warner Oland, and Ricardo Cortez in Mandalay (Michael Curtiz, 1934)

Cast: Kay Francis, Ricardo Cortez, Warner Oland, Lyle Talbot, Ruth Donnelly, Lucien Littlefield, Reginald Owen, Etienne Giardot, David Torrence, Rafaela Ottiano, Halliwell Hobbes, Bodil Rosing, Herman Bing. Screenplay: Paul Hervey Fox, Austin Parker, Charles King. Cinematography: Tony Gaudio. Art direction: Anton Grot. Film editing: Thomas Pratt. Music: Heinz Roemheld.

You get what you might expect from a movie titled Mandalay: Orientalist hooey, with lots of gun-running and opium dealing in sleazy night clubs, with expat Europeans and Americans fleecing tourists with the aide of sinister Eurasians. (There was no other kind of Eurasian in Hollywood movies of the '30s; here they're played by Warner Oland, who made a career of the type before going straight into yellowface as Charlie Chan, and Rafaela Ottiano, who filled the bill whenever Gale Sondergaard was unavailable.) Kay Francis does what she can with a role that doesn't make a lot of sense: She's the Russian-born Tanya Borodoff, who has somehow fallen in love with Tony Evans (Ricardo Cortez), a gun-runner and all-around heel. When he dumps her, she becomes Spot White (no, I don't get the name either), the madam of the sleazy night club in Rangoon run by Nick (Oland). She doesn't want to fall that far from grace, but needs must. When she's threatened with deportation to Russia by the police commissioner (Reginald Owen), she blackmails him by reminding him that they once had a night together when he was drunk, and that she has her garter adorned with his medals to prove it. He gives her the money she needs to leave Rangoon and head for the "cool green hills" near Mandalay. Now calling herself Marjorie Lang, she boards a paddle-wheel steamer upriver, on which she meets an alcoholic doctor (Lyle Talbot) who intends to atone for accidentally killing a patient by working with black fever patients in the jungles. They hit it off and she helps him sober up, but, wouldn't you know it, Tony Evans resurfaces on the very steamer. This sounds like a lot more fun than it is, although Michael Curtiz's professionalism and Tony Gaudio's cinematography gives it some occasional finesse. Francis slinks about nicely -- a woman passenger tells her, "You certainly can wear clothes" -- but she doesn't have the spark she fires in her best roles, perhaps because Cortez and Talbot are such dull leading men. The ending is the sort of thing that would have the heads of the Production Code enforcers exploding, but even that isn't enough for me to recommend sitting through the rest of the movie.

#Mandalay #Michael Curtiz #Warner Oland #Kay Francis

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90frogsinatrenchcoat · 1 year ago

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Why "No Country For Old Men" is a Cinematic Masterpiece

First things first, I should explain exactly what No Country for Old Men is. It's a movie. Duh. This movie is based off of the novel of the same name, written by American novelist Cormac McCarthy. I should preface that I have not read the novel and intend to do so in the coming future. This short essay focuses specifically on the character of Anton Chigurh.

As a character actor, I always appreciate a well put together psychopath. Especially when they are played by an actor who, as a person, despises violence. This is one of the many things that makes the character of Anton Chigurh so intense, and so utterly impeccable. Played by Javier Bardem almost turned down the, noting that he really did not like violence at all, that it really bothered him. This is striking, violence is what many would mark as the defining trait of Chigurh. He is characterized as an emotionless, unfeeling killer who kills at random, with a weapon designed to slaughter cattle. When using a gun, it is always accompanied by a silencer. Not once does he use a loud weapon, he is silent, speaking only when needed. Everything about Anton makes him startlingly in-human. And that's the problem. He's believable. He, as a character, seems like something you would find out in the world.

He is the perfect literary device. And he is the perfect antagonist. In a movie that functions fundamentally on the point of morals, Anton has no definable morals. The only thing that we can even begin to classify as a moral, is his dependence on the coin toss, and his ultimatums. Twice he presents the coin toss, once to the gas station clerk, and once to Llewellyn's wife. To the gas station clerk, he asks,

"Whats the most you ever lost in a coin Toss?"

This line alone opens a canyon into the character of Chigurh. Something inside him, some small part of his being must be feeling something. And it makes him find a reason for his killing. A coin. If his victim properly calls the coin, and wins, then they live, and if they lose.. they die. This gives a reason, silences the voice inside his soul that questions his killing. The ultimatum that he offers to Llewellyn, however, does strike us as something human. Almost as if he sees no need to kill Llewellyn and his wife. He wants one thing, the money. This shows to us that he sees killing as something necessary. He now has a set of rules, but not morals. He marks money as necessary, but killing someone for it that has a wife.. why does he not find that necessary. Of course, in the end, Carla Jean and Llewellyn both die. Anton hobbles off into the sunset, his coin method failing him when Carla Jean chooses to deny the coin toss. She says,

"The coin don't have no say. It's just you".

This comes after Anton decides to give her the coin. His dialogue shows that he, maybe, just might, want to spare her. But he feels as if he has to kill her. There is much that we don't know about Chigurh, and we will never really know. He is unbelievable enough to make him believable. That is what makes him scary, effective, startling, and truly, utterly unsettling.

#no country for old men #anton chigurh #llewellyn moss #carla jean moss #moies #character study #character analysis #character appreciation #media analysis

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merwynpersonalhub · 1 year ago

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since im angry and sore rn im writing random shit in one post 1) noise even though he is friends with margarita he loves to fuck around with him. he understands Italian so he gives margarita the wrong things on purpose so he can just see peppino spit out a drink or just be surprised in general lmao 2) i found a good translator so i will be using that for peppino sometimes bc sometimes i feel like peppino would just speak full on italian when he is upset or some shit lmao 3) margarita doesnt actually have two kids he just took in a fake peshino (toy) and a strange ass toppin that can turn into human that margarita loves very much 4)lovesick margarita has the lovesick thing buttttttt!! he can think pretty well so he just like "oh uh..no i dont need affection.." even though he reallllly wants it he will deny any type of affection so he doesnt hurt anyone. thats also why he quit working for peppino so he doesnt hurt anyone close to him lmao.. (lovesick au belongs to @/fluffygiraffe) 5) idk if i said this but he can break his halo and make it into a bow. since he cannot fight that well he sorta needs it..But its sorta rare he uses it (like how peppino gets his gun from the bosses) 6) Margarita doesnt hate poppe (@/maskedinfinate oc) he actually sorta cares for her he just cant stand the bullshit she does sometimes. if poppe was in danger he will try his best to protect her..even tho sometimes he will go like "why the hell did i save you." he really cares for her even if she doesnt care for him. (poppe you bitch we know you slightly care for margarita.) 7) OK so yk the fake peppino fight. in my silly lil head margarita fought fake peppino while peppino fought fake margarita... since i think it would be funny that margarita would be following fake peppino instead of peppino and like..when he finally catches up to fake peppino he is like "...wait a fucking sec-" 8)basically how margarita got with anton was anton visits the pizzeria time to time to hang with peppino and he notices margarita working the register and they just got close after awhile lmao 9)peppino and margarita has harmful ways of coping with shit- like how peppino will bite himself (i think almost everyone has this hc lmao) (also his hand/arms are badly scarred bc of it) margarita claws his arms. its hard to see due to the hair on his arms but he does claw the fuck outta his arms. thats why when he sorta getting overwhelmed gustavo walks over and takes the cash register and margarita other jobs before margarita starts clawing himself and margarita hides in the break room for a lil bit 10) GUSTAVO IS EVERYONE SUPPORT IN THE PIZZERIA. LIKE FR HE SO GOD DAMN SWEET GOD DAMN IT HE A JOLLY GNOME. (also yes fuck yall he is a gnome in my head.)

#pizza tower #pizza tower oc #margarita the pizza boy #pizza tower ramble #ramble #this is long help #random ramble stuff

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pbandjesse · 1 year ago

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I am so ridiculously tired right now. It like hit me this afternoon and I haven't felt exactly right since then. I am very much ready to close my eyes.

I didn't even sleep bad last night. I really like the new pillows. And when I woke up I desperately did not want to get out of bed but I knew I had to. Laying on the couch in their bike shorts. They said that they were going to go for a bike ride. But they were going to wait until I left. Which was nice of them.

Company staff and I was at the door by 8:00. I felt fine but it was cold out. I basically wore my sweatshirt the entire day. Which I enjoyed but also was surprised how chilly it was. I left the house wearing my sandals but once I got to work I switched into my moccasins and basically just tried my best to be comfortable.

When I got here I didn't have a ton of setting up to do. Everything was basically done so I just got the rest of the hot glue guns out that I pulled it from my studio. And I wasn't sure if I was going to have Anton again today and he ended up not being with me. Which was fine so I just would have counselors and CITs Manning the hot glue gun station. And I was up here getting things ready when Louise came up and asked for help with sewing.

So I had her sewing and I was just chilling talking with her for a while. I would run down to the nurse's office to use the bathroom and came back and we waited for my group.

And everyone did a really good job today. Minimal burns without glue guns. And I was able to mostly sit outside and supervise and check in with the kids while I worked on sewing my squares.

Chris would come up to the building to give me some papers for my self-assessment review for the summer. And he took some notes too. I was a little annoyed that he came up during a time when I am just supervising so I am sewing at the same time. But he was there the other week and saw my intro and saw like my engaging behavior as well so I'm hoping that he sees that as a positive. I also I'm glad that he came up at all because I feel like the office people never come up and see me.

And both of my morning groups do the next one job so once we were cleaned up I was able to head down to lunch.

I did not really like lunch. Was a very strange mac and cheese that was made with like baby zoo noodles and then the vegetarian option was quinoa and I hate quinoa. It's a terrible texture. But I enjoyed sitting with Celia and Antonio and chatting. I'm also saw this morning Branch had a very cool metal water bottle / coffee cup with a carabiner handle that was branded with putok. And I was like what I want that. So I sent a picture to Heather and asked where I could get it and if it was for sale in the trading post. And she said that while it was in the trading post it was free and just for staff. And I was so excited so right before lunch I went down and got that and I put lemonade in it it was great. I'm going to use this all the time now.

After lunch I came back up here to hang out and rest. Read for a little while and later my hammock and it was nice. My neck still hurt today so anytime I could take to try to stretch it and lay down was nice and good.

The afternoon went pretty slowly. I start feeling really tired and I wasn't as cheerful with some of the kids coming to ask for string. I was a little jokingly annoyed with one child who comes multiple times a day. And I'm like you need to buy your own strength You're using so much money and he's really not but I'm mostly teasing him but I think he could also tell I wasn't doing my best today and wasn't feeling very good. And he was very kind about it. He kept checking on me throughout the day. So sweet.

I loved my little breaks today so much because I was so tired. And I really just wanted to close the doors and be by myself but it was not in the cards today. But that was okay. I would have some metal casting with the bunkarchen girls. We're almost done all of the metal. I'm going to be sad when it's over because it's been a lot of fun.

The girls made some really cool pieces today and CJ came by at the end and we got to pour the metal on the ground and everyone got really excited when it changed colors. Which I thought was very cute. And then we were cleaned up and we were waiting for day camp.

In Alaska was super chill. Just a really nice group. Sometimes when the counselor is very chill but very much on the ball the group is then also very chill. And I really enjoyed them.

They even did a really good job cleaning up at the end. And once they were cleaned up it was no big deal to say goodbye.

While they were working I was working on my sewing. I finished three whole rows today which brings me to 8 completed rows which means I only have four left! So I should be able to lay it all out this weekend and start figuring out which row goes and which order because while I did pin the rose together as the squares I am not positive I actually did it correctly. So hopefully I won't have to take anything apart. I already had to take one apart today because I put it on the wrong direction. I've been very careful about that and I got A little confused. But I figured it out and fixed it. Before it was too much of a problem.

Once my group left I just wanted to lay down so bad. I got in the hammock outside with my book and read for a little while. I read until around 5:30. I enjoyed being all wrapped up in the hamburg but I also got a little bit of a nosebleed that made my stomach hurt. And it was a beautiful day but I was still very chilly.

Once 5:30 came around I pack up my little backpack and got my laptop and went to the dining hall to get on the Wi-Fi.

And I finally got into writing my Native American field trip lesson plans. This is going to be a labor of love for sure. And my plan is to spend like an hour every day on it until it's done. Which I know is crazy but it's going to be great.

I would spend from 5:30 until about 7:00 working on my document. And a lot of that was just spent on working online handout idea. I got the front page and the back page finished and it took me forever because the formatting was really tough. But I'm very excited and I think it looks really good. And I hope that will encourage me for making the rest of it.

While I was working on that we had dinner. Which was kind of a shitty Pizza. But I liked the bread. So at least there was something. I wasn't that hungry anyway. I mostly stayed until 7:00 and kept working because I was hoping there would be ice cream but there was no ice cream.

Instead I came back up to arts and crafts and I ate the rest of my snail rolls. Which were great. And then I just spent the evening hanging out. I made a pillow for myself here using a pillowcase that I had and some cotton and after a little cleaning and mostly just chilled in the hammock and more of the fluffy blankets because it's chilly enough for that. And really I would just like to go to sleep right now. Because I'm so tired.

But it's been taking me like an hour to write this post because there is drama in the group chat because yesterday a baby snake was found and now we're voting on what to name it and for some reason half of the camp wants to name it Guzman instead of string bean which is clearly the better toys. So we have a pole going and it's all arguments in the chat now. But really Celia gets the final vote because it's her snake. She's the one that's going to take care of it so she gets to name it whatever she wants.

Right now I am going to go brush my teeth and hopefully fall asleep quickly because I do not want to be up all night. I want to sleep a very long time and wake up tomorrow and feel better. That is the goal in the plan. Let's hope that it works out the way that I want it to.

Tomorrow I am not sure if I'm going to go home or what but I hope that is a good day. Not that you all sleep well and take care of each other. And I hope that tomorrow is beautiful. Good night everyone. Until next time.

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karahalloway · 2 years ago

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I posted 1,327 times in 2022

That's 456 more posts than 2021!

115 posts created (9%)

1,212 posts reblogged (91%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@angelasscribbles

@aussiegurl1234

@harleybeaumont

@the-soot-sprite

@petiteboheme

I tagged 128 of my posts in 2022

#drake walker - 71 posts

#the royal romance - 69 posts

#drake x mc - 54 posts

#harper gale - 52 posts

#trr fanfic - 48 posts

#less than noble intentions - 35 posts

#choices fic writers creations - 31 posts

#kara halloway - 26 posts

#sleepless in new york - 20 posts

#uncommon attraction - 19 posts

Longest Tag: 51 characters

#denim shirt and biker jacket…what else do you need?

My Top Posts in 2022:

WHOOOO!!!

Just got a message from Tumblr support informing that my account has been restored and I am officially un-shadowbanned! (Apparently it was glitch at their end that was causing the problem... 😒)

But... it got sorted much quicker than last time, and I’ve got my account working properly again, so...

...PAAARTAY!

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65 notes - Posted February 16, 2022

100 Followers!😧

OMG guys... 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

Thank you so, so, so much!

It seems like only yesterday that I hit the 50 followers milestone, and now to have 100 lovely people who thought that the stuff I post on my account is worthy of their attention is just...

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68 notes - Posted March 7, 2022

TRR Round Robin - Part 9: Danger Zone

In the universe that The Royal Romance/Heir fan fiction inhabits, the people are represented by two not necessarily separate yet equally important groups: The Writers, who come up with these fantastical stories, and The Readers, who eagerly consume them. One writer, @sirbeepsalot, was struck with inspiration and came up with the idea of a round-robin story based on The Royal Romance/Heir.

This is that story.

What’s happened so far?

Liam and Olivia were plotting a plan which Leo interrupted; Queen Madeleine and King Liam are hiding at Drake’s cabin with Max, but Drake has disappeared with his motorbike bike while Max texted someone, who turned out to be Bertrand. Riley Brooks, Royal Communication Director, played her part for the King, by giving a press release with fake news of Queen’s miscarriage, but has unknowingly revealed the whereabouts of the King and Queen to Eirik. Leo shot Anton dead and fled away from the crime scene with his lover, Olivia, and the secret contents of the box. Barthelemy has extracted the whereabouts of the King and Queen’s location from Bertrand at the point of a gun. Leo and Olivia realise that Liam and Madeleine are not at Valtoria and Drake has found a note.

Catch up here.

Book: The Royal Romance/Heir

Pairings: Liam x Madeleine, Riley x Drake (sorry... not sorry! I’m an unabashed Drake stan so... 🙃)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Swearing, kidnapping, torture

Word count: 1,000. On. The. Dot.

I am participating in @wackydrabbles with this post. The week 135 prompt is “Why did I let you talk me into this?” and will appear in bold below.

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68 notes - Posted February 24, 2022

Sleepless in New York: Chapter 4 - Showtime, Baby!

Series: TRR

Pairing: Drake Walker x OC (Harper Gale)

Rights belong to Pixelberry, most characters and some dialogue belong to them.

Synopsis: This is a short-story series written from Drake’s POV that explores an AU where Drake meets Harper (my OC from (Un)Common Attraction) by himself before the boys come to the bar on the last night of Christian’s bachelor party.

Masterlist: Sleepless in New York

Chapter Summary: The sparks fly (in more ways than one!) as Drake faces off against Harper...

Word Count: 6,700

Rating/Warnings: M (swearing, sexual tension, Drake going all out - change of panties advisable 😆)

Chapter theme song:

Also available on Wattpad

Chapter 4 - Showtime, Baby!

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75 notes - Posted January 17, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

(Un)Common Attraction: Dive into the Deep End Comic

The amazingly talented @blueberryarts18 has done it again! 🤗 She created a jaw-dropping comic that brings to life a pivotal moment from (Un)Common Attraction - Harper and Drake’s first kiss!

I literally have no words... 😭 Every time she sent me a WIP of this comic, I squeed, loving watching the scenes come to life with more and more detail, until she sent me through the final, finished work and I was honestly rendered speechless...! It is a thousand times better than I had imagined it in my head - the colours, the facial expressions, the emotion in each panel... It’s seriously as if she looked in my head and saw what I saw when I wrote the scene... 🤯

Extract of accompanying scene below the cut.

Extract from Chapter 21: Dive into the Deep End

Warnings: Swearing, minor smutty moment, major angst

"Now there's a million-dollar view if ever I saw one," I remark, taking in the beautiful vista.

"Worth the climb, isn't it?" murmurs Drake, leaning against the wall.

"Definitely! You get a workout and a view! What more can you ask for?"

Drake glances at me briefly before looking back out over the water. "We should start heading back before they send out a search party."

"Back the way we came, I'm guessing?"

"Or you could jump."

I stare at him in disbelief. "You're joking... That's a 30 foot drop at least!"

"Don't chicken out on me now, Gale," he replies with a cocky grin, edging backwards.

In the next instant, he becomes a blur of motion as he dashes forward and leaping into the air, throws himself off the cliff. I gasp as he twists into a forward flip before straightening out and diving expertly into the water below.

"Holy shit..." I breathe as I watch him resurface a couple of seconds later to let out a loud whoop of exultation.

"You comin' or not?" he calls, treading water as he looks up at me.

I gulp nervously as I stare down at him.

While I really did not want to jump, the alternative was to try and make my way back down the way we had come... And unfortunately, without Drake's help, that option would most likely result in a sprained ankle, if not something worse.

So, despite every instinct in my body screaming at me not to do it, I back up as far as I can go. Closing my eyes, I heave several deep breaths to try and calm my thundering heart. Then, pushing my self-preservation instincts aside, I rush forward and throw myself over the edge.

My mouth opens to emit a terrified shriek as I flail my arms and legs in a vain attempt to slow myself down, before I remember that I need to straighten up to avoid seriously hurting myself when I hit the water.

Lifting my arms above my head, I press my legs together and point my toes just before I cut through the cool water like a knife. With my lungs crying out for air, I kick back up, taking a ragged breath as I break through the surface.

"Oh. My. God!" I exclaim breathlessly, every inch of me tingling from the sudden rush of adrenaline. "That... That was..."

"Pretty intense, huh?" grins Drake. "Though in all the excitement, you seem to have dropped something."

I gasp in horror as he holds up my bikini top with one finger.

"Give that back!" I cry, lunging towards him.

How the hell did I manage to end up basically naked with both Christian and Drake just days apart?!

"Or what?" he taunts with a wicked grin, swivelling easily out of the way.

"I'll...I'll..." I flounder. "Oh, I don't know! But if you don't give it back, this instant, I swear you'll regret it, Walker!"

"I'll take my chances."

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76 notes - Posted May 14, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #Spotify

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angermango · 3 months ago

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ah late to the party, but wanted to share this:

The "Rachel Bronev as Descole AU"

(aka "Putting the 'Domestic' in 'Domestic Terrorism" AU" aka "DesRachel AU" aka "It Runs in the Family AU", I don't have a great name for it yet or even decided a proper villain name for Rachel...)

The one where, well, Rachel Bronev survived and escaped Targent and becomes the Descole of the setting instead after learning her hubby jumped off the slippery slope because filing for divorce isn't quite as fun as grand larceny, identity theft or building giant mechas to shit fury on Targent's front lawn.

There are also variations because I haven't yet decided on some variables, namely Des' situation so he's either:

(a) Not Descole, and he's kinda just vibing with his alive family and is better known as Layton's weirdass brother (they reunited and rekindled their bond already etc etc). he may just tag along or just happens to get tangled up in Layton's adventures anyway including encounters with Mummy Dear.

(b) Descole, and yet nothing much changes except it's funny as fuck bc Layton is now the token freak of the family for NOT being a wanted criminal mastermind.

(c) Deadsmond. (This take is a bit darker and kind of more serious as a result. tbh i think of it a lot more like a spin-off)

[cutting this up now bc got verry long but there's a few more beneath: Laytonborne, Post-canon Emmy Time Travel AU and "Small Surprises"]

Laytonborne

less an AU more just a series of ideas of cool images/scenes/concept with Layton characters in a FromSoft game-style setting with heavy borrowing from Bloodborne and started all because I wanted to give Layton a Reiterpallasch (basically a rapier with a pistol attached. it's cool as hell.)

In true Soulsborne fashion nobody, least of all me knows, the full plot here.

Something something ancient precursor civilisation from which inquisitive archaeologists unearthed forbidden knowledge and corruptive powers and artefacts. Cycles of suffering and the dangers of immortality and going too far in pursuit of power. Sick trick weapons. Illusions and mind-screw. Randall would make a cool as hell boss fight and he grows wings mid-battle. There may be werewolves. Emmy is like those sidequest NPCs who is a recurring companion encounter but if you make the wrong choices she goes mad/turns on you. Anton is an actual "vampire" and he absolutely yells "LAAYTOONN" and steams up in his boss phase transition and withers into an old man after being defeated because it's not out of place for the setting. Descole would also be a major boss somewhere and does not explain anything despite being pretty significant in the lore but at least you can buy his drip after defeating him. Poison swamp level. Not entirely sure what Luke's doing because kids don't usually appear in Souls games, but he probably has a gun. Debating on whether Flora is a sentient robot/doll sort of deal, or maybe Aurora is in that role. Claire with the kind of cursed tragic sidequest that haunts players where you can't change the outcome no matter what. The Great Ones are watching. Leon is probably responsible for most of the shit state of things and will need to be put down if he isn't already dead. Rachel turned into a moon monster. You know how it is.

Post-canon Emmy got time-yeeted whee

Post-canon Emmy ends up over thirty years in the past due to probably some Azran artefact flim-flam or something, whatever, she's got more important things to worry about right now like oh shit is that Uncle Leon all young and happy and not kidnapped or brainwashed with his very alive wife and TWO kids?? Did... did they just kind of take her in assuming she is some poor young woman with a troubled past in need??? This totally isn't going to be awkward and scary and kind of crazy because she is NOT shaking and fumbling every time she's alone in a room with Leon, she is NOT almost mixing up the kids' names after she instantly recognises the youngest's beady little babby eyes (and has a heart attack and a half over recognising the eldest's), she is NOT getting attached with the domestic family feels moments, and she is NOT trying to furiously figure out when the Cultist House Call of Doom is happening because it is NOT HAPPENING this time okay--

"Small Surprises" AU

oops spilt the time travel juice on the AU machine again except this time it's in the other direction. The Bostonius crew just discovered two lil' stowaways some point early in their trip. They're apparently called Hersh and Theo. They don't know how they got here either but their home situation sounds dire so the crew chooses to take care of them. The little guys are a little skittish at first and attached at the hip but everyone is won over by them pretty much as they share puzzles and show them the sights on their world tour and the boys come out of their shells bit by bit. Sycamore is screaming internally the entire time. Let's just hope those nasty people in uniforms don't catch wind of this!

People with PL AUs

🎤🎤🎤

Pitch me the idea

#jus throwin these out like birdfeed why not #professor layton #ptdidt au #>>mangowaffles #>>mangostuffedchicken #professor layton au #disclaimer i don't have concrete endings/plots thought out for most of these it's purely moments that follow a loose story #the only one that has external proof of existence yet is the desrachel one btw #this lot are just what i have more than a few sparse bullet points for

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a-wandering-imagination · 1 year ago

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Chapter 9

Anton pulled the car into the garage when they arrived back at the house. His eyes scanned the trees and bushes as he lowered the garage door behind the car. The girl made her way into the house as Anton gathered the various items he'd brought from his old house. He carried all the gear into the living room and set it in the middle of the floor. The girl quietly wandered about the room, looking at everything and, every once in a while, reaching out to touch something. Again, she did not pick anything up, she just touched items that seemed to catch her interest, almost as if she were testing whether or not they were real. Anton had wanted to ask her about what happened on the bridge, but she seemed too fragile to go into that right now. She still seemed rather out of touch, like she was day-dreaming.

"So, what do you think?" Anton asked her, motioning to all the provisions stacked around the room. She looked at him for a moment and then turned to look around the room. She looked back at Anton and cocked her head a bit. It reminded Anton of the motion a dog makes when it hears a strange sound. The thought made him smirk and his change in expression seemed to startle the girl. She looked quickly to the ground and then walked quietly over to the sliding doors and sat down, Indian-style, in front of them. She placed both hands on the window and stared outside. Her small hands were splayed against the glass in such a way that they reminded Anton of pictures he’d seen of tree frogs clinging to the glass walls of zoo terrariums and he smiled a bit. Outside, the gray sky was cold as steel and the water out in the channel looked like ink.

"So, are you hungry?" Anton asked.

The girl didn't even move this time, she just continued to stare out the window.

"Sheesh, you're starting to give me the heebie-jeebies" Anton whispered as he pulled a can of beef stew out of the case near the sliding doors. He then grabbed a few pieces of wood and in a few minutes had a good fire going in the stove. He put a pot on the stove and emptied the contents of the can of stew into the pot. The aroma of the cooking food soon permeated the room.

"Smells good, huh?" Anton attempted once again to elicit some sort of response from the girl. This time she did turn to look at him, but still she said nothing. Her eyes looked vacant, again like she had no idea what he was talking about.

"Do you know how to talk?" Anton asked, making gestures with his hands around his mouth. She simply stared. He couldn't see any visible scars that would account for an inability to speak, she looked pretty healthy, just a little dirty and disheveled.

"Where do you live?" Anton asked. She stared at him for a moment longer and then turned back to the window. "Suit yourself" Anton muttered as he pulled a couple of bowls down from the cupboard and ladled some stew into each of them. He walked over and set one of the bowls next to the girl and stuck a spoon in it. He then set down next to her with his own bowl and started eating. He too looked out the window at the ocean and quietly munched on his stew. Out of the corner of his eye, Anton saw the girl turn and watch him eat. She then looked down at the bowl next to her and reached out and touched the rim of the bowl with the tip of her index finger. She held it there for a moment and then put her hand back on the window and stared once again out into the increasing gloom of the afternoon.

Hours later as Anton sat cleaning the various firearms, the girl was still seated in front of the window with the uneaten bowl of stew next to her. After verifying that each of the guns was properly cleaned and reassembled, Anton rose and walked back over to the glass doors and sat down beside the girl once again.

"Not hungry, huh?" he quipped. "Well, I know you may have been through a lot lately, so there's no need to rush. I'll leave the bowl here and you can eat it when you feel like it." He reached out to pat the top of her head and felt her stiffen when his hand made contact. She didn't pull away, but there was a definite sense of fear in her reaction. He patted her head a couple times. He wanted to ask her again about the strange happenings on the bridge and whether she'd seen the creature before, but he felt she still wasn't ready to talk about it. She seemed to be in a state of shock.

"Well, I am going to bed. I'll get you some blankets. There are beds upstairs. I've been sleeping here in the living room because it is warmer, but you feel free to do whatever you like." With that he stood and went upstairs to gather some other blankets. As he walked into the master bedroom, his eyes locked on the figure seated against the sliding doors and he jumped involuntarily, and then he realized he had not moved the body of the old man.

Shit, he thought, gonna have to move that before the girl sees it. Then he realized she'd probably already seen much worse. He decided, however, that he would still move the body down to the beach and bury it first thing in the morning. Then he grabbed a couple of blankets off the bed and walked back down stairs.

"Here you go," he said as he dropped the two blankets next to her on the floor. "Those should keep you warm."

The girl turned and looked down at the blankets and then back up at him. She stared into his eyes for a moment and then turned to look out the window again. Anton walked over to the other side of the room where his own sleeping bag was laid out. He pulled off his shoes and his sweatshirt and climbed into the bag. He lay there for several minutes watching the girl. As the room continued to darken, she sat motionless, hands pressed against the glass, staring out into the growing night. What a strange kid, he mused to himself. Wonder what she has seen that screwed her up so much? His mind was full of images of the strange black creature as he tried to sleep. Had the girl seen it before? Had she witnessed something terrible that had caused her to quit speaking? Images of the gunfight on the bridge flashed through his mind as he drifted off to sleep.

Anton's dreams were dark and haunted. He had visions of the black beast pursuing him and of his attempts to protect the girl from it. Again and again he would fail and the beast would devour the girl in front of him, ripping her limb from limb while he sat helpless watching. His arms and legs refusing to respond. He was unable to prevent the horrible maulings or escape from the vision of them. He found himself reliving the terrible scene in countless situations, over and over again until finally he awoke, covered in sweat, to the welcome sight of daylight filtering through the sliding glass doors.

Anton sat up and looked around. The girl was nowhere to be seen. The blankets were as he had left them and the bowl was still sitting on the floor, although it was now empty. Anton rose quickly and looked outside at the beach. There was no one there. He looked in the garage and then ran up the stairs. He checked the master bedroom first and didn't see her. A startled raven, however, jumped from the corpse on the deck, causing Anton to jump back, swearing. He checked the other rooms quickly and was starting to panic. Where would she go? Why would she leave?

Then, as he passed the master bedroom once more on his way back downstairs, the hairs on his neck began to prickle. He stopped short and turned and looked back into the master bedroom. Nothing had been disturbed. All was as he left it. But he could sense something in the room. He looked over at the wall of closet doors on the other side of the bed. One was slightly ajar and the black sliver of darkness exposed by it chilled him to the bone. All the guns were downstairs, but he made no move towards them, afraid that any motion might attract whatever was hiding there. He stood, frozen to the spot, staring at the blackness in the closet, waiting for his nightmare to reveal itself.

Nothing moved.

Then Anton saw the edge of the bed skirt flutter just a little. Keeping an eye on the closet door, he stooped down and peeked under the bed. There was the girl, lying under the bed, with a look of terror on her face. She looked pleadingly at Anton. He reached out to her and she withdrew from him, eyes filled with fear.

Anton looked at the closet again, but now the feeling of being watched had vanished. He stood and walked around the bed to the closet and flung the door open. Nothing but clothes and boxes met his gaze. There was no room in the closet for anything bigger than a hamster to hide itself. Anton turned back to the bed just in time to see the girl bolt from the room and run downstairs.

"Hey, wait!" He called after her as he followed her downstairs. He found her huddled in a corner of the living room behind some of the boxes of canned goods. As he approached her, she pulled her hood over her head and he could see she was trembling. It almost looked like she was crying, but no sound came from her.

"What's the matter?" Anton asked. She just scrunched her body up tighter and the shaking continued. Anton had no idea what to do. He wanted to comfort her, but she was obviously very much afraid of him at the moment. He wondered if maybe she was suffering from night terrors or something similar and perhaps she wasn't fully awake yet. He backed away from her and sat down in the middle of the living room floor, trying to figure out his best course of action. He decided to give her some time to relax, so he started building a fire for breakfast. During the process, he continued to talk to the girl, trying to relax her somewhat. He noticed that the trembling had stopped, but she was still bunched up in a tight little ball with her hood over her head. He dug through the supplies and found some Spam and some dehydrated eggs.

As he prepared the meal, he talked to the girl, asking her questions about what food she liked and what her favorite color was and what kind of music she liked. After about ten minutes, Anton saw her peek around the corner of the boxes. He grabbed a plate and put a piece of spam and some of the eggs on it and offered it to her. She made no sign of either desire or disdain. She just stared at him. Anton got up and walked towards her with the plate. She withdrew once again, but didn't cover her head this time. Instead she watched him with intense eyes. Anton stopped a few feet short of her and set the plate down in front of her.

"There you go," he said. "It ain't Wolfgang Puck but it should hold off starvation." He smiled weakly and walked back to the stove to prepare his own plate. When he had loaded his own plate he turned and sat down on the floor, facing her. The plate had been pulled back behind the boxes, and he could just see the top of her hood. There was some movement and he assumed she was eating the food, so he started in on his own. After he finished, Anton took his dish into the kitchen. When he came back out into the living room, the girl was standing in the middle of the room holding her plate. The food was uneaten, but looked like she had shoved it around on the plate a bit. She held it out to him. He took the plate and set it on the counter. When he turned back she was watching him closely and appeared ready to bolt at any moment. This behavior was becoming more and more unnerving to Anton.

"Are you okay?" he asked her, which seemed to be little more than adding voice to what was running through his head.

She looked at him for several moments and Anton got the impression she was sizing him up. Finally she walked over to him and grabbed the cuff of his shirt sleeve and tugged gently in the direction of the front door. He wasn't sure what to make of this at first, and hesitated ever so slightly. She paused and looked up at him and her eyes seemed to plead with him again and she tugged softly on his sleeve, again leading him towards the door.

At the door, she hesitated. She looked at him, then at the door handle, then back up at him. "What?" Anton asked, watching the girl closely. She looked up at him again and then back down at the door handle. He reached out and touched the door handle and saw her stiffen somewhat. He began to draw his hand back when she placed her hand on his. She looked up at him again. Anton turned the knob and pulled the door open. His jaw dropped in utter shock at the scene that met his gaze. He felt his head reeling and thought he was going to faint. He slumped against the side of the door jam and sat down hard on the floor. He couldn't pull his eyes away from the carnage.

In front of the house there were three cars. One was parked within inches of the garage door. The other two were parked in a line behind it. All three were large four wheel drive vehicles. It looked to Anton like there had been two or three people in each of the vehicles. What was left of them was strewn all about the driveway. Anton leaned forward , his head swimming. A wave of nausea swept over him and he gagged a bit.

"Oh my god... " he whispered, as he tried to stand up. He staggered a bit and then stumbled down the front steps and caught himself on the fender of the first car just before he fell. He stood there for a moment catching his breath. A couple of ravens scattered and flew cawing into the trees nearby. Anton turned to look back at the girl and saw that there was blood splashed against the house and some of the arcs reached up onto the second floor walls. There was a forearm laying on the awning above the front door. In the grass, not ten feet from where Anton stood was the lower half of a body. The tattered jeans and rough leather boots were untouched, but the spine stuck out of the bloody mess of the hips at an obscene angle. Black clotted bits of blood and flesh hung from it.

Anton staggered up the driveway looking into each car as he passed. Each was splattered with blood. Each had parts of the original occupants still inside. And each had the roof of the vehicle nearly torn off. There was broken glass and torn metal all around the vehicles. And as Anton's mind began to clear and he was able to pick out more details, he began to notice the ragged punctures in the steel and plastic of the car bodies that looked like they were made by very large teeth or claws. It was also at this point that Anton realized that there were no heads. He realized he was struggling to identify these people and that all that was left of them were arms and legs and in some cases, partial torsos.

He looked back at the girl. She was watching him closely. She had stepped back inside the door but left it open. "What the hell is going on?!" Anton screamed at her. She stiffened and looked ready to run at any moment. "What did this?" he hissed. "Was it that thing from the bridge? Was it that thing?!?"

Something in the girl's demeanor convinced Anton that she knew what had done this. Worse still, he was getting the feeling that she thought he was somehow involved. But there was no way he could have done this. His head started to spin again. Why hadn't he heard any of this? Could he really have slept through all of this? He hadn't heard any of the cars drive up. He hadn't heard any noise or commotion, and judging from all the blood, broken glass and torn metal, there certainly had been a commotion, and not a little one. How could he have slept through this? What were these people doing here? How had they even found him? Even as he thought it, he looked up at the chimney. Obviously. The smoke from the stove had guided them. But what happened to them? What the hell happened to them?

Anton's head began to clear again and he looked around once more. This time he was looking for details, looking for clues. He picked his way through the cars and then began searching the nearby bushes. After about an hour, he had several body parts and six firearms stacked next to the first vehicle. It looked like there were seven people from the remains. All men. All unidentifiable. The hand that he'd seen on the roof was all that was left of the seventh. He'd been able to piece together the other six based on clothing remnants and skin type. The hand on the roof, however, was a definite outlier. It was the hand of a black man. The rest were all caucasian.

Finding no other items in the vehicles besides extra ammo for the various firearms, Anton sat down on the edge of the driveway and tried to reason out what had happened. Why had these men come out here? His best assumption was that these men were affiliated with those on the bridge who had shot at him. Maybe someone had seen him drive away. They probably sent out a group to finish what the guys on the bridge had started. These men had probably been scouring the road for any sign of life just as he had done earlier. They'd probably seen his smoke and then waited till nightfall to come in.

But then what happened? He looked around at the cars. Whatever had done this was very big and very strong. He remembered the black feet he'd seen while peeking from under the car on the bridge. Was that beast really big enough to do this or was there more than one monster running around. The image of the beast lunging across the road filled his mind. Maybe there were several of these things.

Anton looked at the girl again. She was still standing quietly in the door. "Did you see what did this?" he asked quietly. She didn't move, but her eyes seemed to flutter a bit. He got up and started walking towards her and she stepped back reflexively. Anton paused. "Do you think I had something to do with this?" he asked, his voice a little more strident than before. Her eyes widened a little and he saw her nervously clenching her little hands into fists. "I didn't do this," he stated flatly, trying to tone down the emotion in his voice. "I couldn't do this."

His emotions got the better of him and he broke down again, slumping against the side of the car nearest him. He slid down to a sitting position, his back against the front tire and covered his face with his hands and cried quietly for several minutes, his breathing ragged. Darkness seemed to be closing in around him. Then he felt her hand on his head. Light and very cool, she laid her small hand on the top of his head. He slowly pulled his hands away from his face. She was standing next to him, her arm outstretched, hand on his head. She stared down at him, her face devoid of emotion. Her hand on his head calmed him somehow. As his heartbeat and breathing slowed once more, Anton realized this was the first time he had been touched by another human being since Larissa had died. The realization caused him to tear up again.

He sat there quietly for some time. He didn’t even notice that the girl had gone back inside. When he finally regained his composure, he dried his eyes and surveyed the carnage once again. Now, however, he felt as if this were somehow familiar. Then he saw it. The flies congregating on the blood spatters on the front of the house. The pattern was very similar to the houses on Meander way. Anton stood up and looked around, remembering the other houses now with their windows busted in on one side and busted out on the other. Maybe those people hadn’t killed each other either. Maybe that beast had attacked the houses there as well. But if so, why hadn’t the beast busted in and killed me and the girl? This thought nagged at Anton as he set to work cleaning up the mess.

It took Anton all morning and most of the afternoon to clean up the driveway and the front of the house. Although all the cars were severely damaged, he managed to get the one furthest from the house to start and used it to pull the other two away from the house and out of the driveway so he could access the Subaru in the garage. The house had a private well, so there was plenty of water for the clean up, but it was rather cold work since there was no water heater and it was only about sixty degrees outside. Anton found a hose and sprayed the blood off the front of the house and washed the steps. He then sprayed down the driveway. Crows and ravens had congregated throughout the morning, waiting for their chance to get at the remains.

Anton had moved all the body parts down to the beach, near where the graves of the home's original occupants were located. He found some large black trash bags in the garage to use for the remains. As he was carrying the parts out to the beach, he remembered the body of the old man up on the deck. After carefully arranging the bags next to the other graves, he walked up to the house from the beach. As he came up the steps onto the lower deck, he could see the girl in the living room. She was once again in front of the window, both hands on the glass. For a moment she didn't move and her eyes were distant, as if she were looking through him at something in the distance. Her expression changed suddenly and her eyes zeroed in on his and she sat for a moment just looking into his eyes. Then, she stood up and took a step back from the door. Anton walked up and slid the door open. She continued to look up at him as he stepped past her and headed for the stairs.

In the master bedroom, Anton grabbed the sheet off the bed to use to wrap the body of the old man. As he stepped out onto the deck, something caught his eye and he paused mid-stride. The old man's hands had been rearranged in his lap and were now both clutching a small bouquet of wildflowers. Anton's chest tightened as he carefully took the flowers from the man's hands and laid them aside. He then laid out the sheet on the deck and gently rolled the man's body onto the sheet so that he was face down. He wrapped the two edges of the sheet over the man and then rolled him over onto his back again and tied the corners of the sheet across his chest. He then picked up the corpse and hoisted it over his shoulder. He carried it downstairs and out the sliding doors and down to the beach. He laid the body gently next to the others and stood looking at them for a moment. He was just about to turn to go back to the house for the shovel when he noticed the girl standing next to him. In her hands were the flowers. She walked forward and placed them on the chest of the old man and then stepped back and kneeled in the sand next to him with her hands clasped in her lap. Anton stood quiet for a moment, thinking that there should be something he could say, but feeling that the silence was more appropriate.

The girl stood at the edge of the deck and watched quietly as Anton buried the bodies on the beach. The digging took most of the afternoon and the light was getting dim when he patted the last shovel full of earth into place. He stood staring at the mounds of earth for a moment and turned and looked back up at the girl on the deck. Her eyes were focused on the graves. She didn't look at Anton as he walked slowly up the beach and then up the stairs to stand next to her. The two stood silently for a long while, staring down at the mounds of earth. Then, the girl turned and walked into the house. Anton followed her into the living room.

"Did you know any of those people?" Anton asked as he washed his hands in the kitchen sink. The girl didn't respond. Instead, she glanced around the living room and then she lowered her eyes and stared at her hands, folded in her lap. Anton stared at her for a moment, then he walked over and sat down next to her. "So are you ever going to talk to me?" he asked. She looked up into his eyes and then back down at her hands. Anton was pretty sure she could understand him. "You know," he said, "I had a little girl just a little bit younger than you." The girl looked up into his eyes once more and this time she didn't look away. "My little girl was only five when she got sick. Her name was Celeste. You probably didn't know her… I think she was a little younger than you. But she was cute just like you. I think you would have liked her." Anton paused for a moment as his eyes clouded with memories of his lost wife and daughter. "You would have liked her mommy too," he whispered. Anton looked into the girl's eyes once more. "Do you have any brothers or sisters?" She just stared up at him. "What about your parents? Did you live over in Douglas?" Still nothing but her quiet, fixed attention.

"We have to find people," he finally blurted out. "It is too dangerous to be alone. I don't know what's going on, I don't know what killed those people. We need to find other people, normal people, who can help us find out what is going on. Do you understand?" The girl reached out and put her hand on his. There was no squeezing and her hand felt rather cool. She simply set her hand on his for a moment. Then she stood and walked back to the sliding glass doors and sat down, just as she had the night before, with her hands against the glass. She turned and looked over her shoulder at Anton. Their eyes met once more and she held his gaze for a moment. Then she turned and stared out into the growing night.

Anton stood and was about to start a fire in the wood stove when he caught himself. He looked up at the point where the chimney pipe exited the ceiling and then looked out the kitchen window at the darkness beyond. He'd not had a fire going all day. If anyone else came looking, he didn't want to make it obvious where they were. So, instead, he rummaged through the supplies. He quickly found the little sterno fuel cans he'd seen earlier and popped one open and set it on top of the wood stove. He then lit the sterno and the pale blue cone of flame flickered out of the top of the can. Anton then grabbed a couple cans of vegetable soup and poured them into a saucepan and held it over the sterno flame.

"We'll decide what we are going to do tomorrow..." he said, the words trailing off in the silence. Somehow, he knew that the girl would go along with whatever he decided, he just wished he could get some sort of emotional response from her. She had been with him now for two days and yet he still felt alone. Afraid and alone.

Later that evening as Anton sat in the living room eating his dinner and watching the girl poke at hers, Anton once again started thinking of the future. He was determined now that he would leave Juneau and seek out other survivors, hopefully more friendly than those he'd found here. And he definitely wanted to leave the whole situation as far behind as possible. The girl sat in the center of the floor with her face just inches from her bowl as she poked and prodded the food, like it was some sort of research experiment. Every once in a while, she would look up at Anton for a moment, and then return to her prodding of the vegetables and bits of chicken floating in the broth. When Anton finally put his own bowl in the sink and climbed into his sleeping bag, she was still inspecting her uneaten food. As Anton drifted off to sleep, the girl paused in her prodding and her attention shifted from her bowl to his sleeping face. She stared for a moment then rose, and took her bowl to the sliding door. She quietly slid the door open and walked out off the deck and into the bushes at the side of the house. When she returned the bowl was empty. She padded softly back into the house and placed the empty bowl in the middle of the floor and then turned back to the sliding door. She sat down, Indian-style, in front of the door and placed both hands against the glass. Her eyes became distant and her body stiffened a little.

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