#imagine them taking trips across the world to look at cheese and rocks. what could be better

[quillirio]

what if they were adopted siblings. the nagisa siblings

look at them they are literally so similar looking and autistic how are they not related

[katoktm8]

Snake with legs

Spectacular day. After an absolutely absolutely horrible night of sleep, we got up to the hotel breakfast and then decided to drive 15 km to Lake Bovilla. The drive took over an hour because most of the roads were similar to Mogillan Rim roads of gravel and stones and potholes and one lane roads. In addition, there was a mine about halfway there, and so we were dealing with passing bulldozers and trucks full of rock and stone and every large equipment imaginable. And it was all switch back roads. There is a picture of one part of the road that I stuck my hand out the window of the car and tried to show what we were driving through. We got to the reservoir and it was stunning. It’s a man-made reservoir outside of town and it serves as most of Tirana‘s water source. We parked right at the start and walked up the switchback road then across the field then up a trail then up the side of a mountain even with Caroline’s horrible fear of heights, we made it to the lookout. In one picture I took from the grassy field we cut across you can just see in the distance the lookout way on top of the mountain. The views were fantastic. The people that were up there were crazy taking risks to get the perfect picture. We sat up there and met people from all over the world for about 30 to 45 minutes. One couple was from Germany and they are in a camper van with their three Chihuahua type dogs for seven weeks. The names were toffeefay, viola, and butterscotch. We headed back down and met a shepherd with his goats and lambs and horse who we had to pay in order to take pictures of. Nice side gig. Check out the goat climbing a tree to eat. I think pictures tell the story of this best. Look at how high we were look at how far we walked. It was all spectacular.

Well, on the way up while walking through the meadows, a tour group was right behind us with the tour leader in front. As we were walking, I could hear things being thrown into bushes, etc. I looked back and he was throwing rocks. I asked him why he was throwing rocks, and he said “because of the snakes I want to scare them away”. I said snakes!? What snakes!? And he said oh there are lots of snakes. And I said, “oh! what kind of snakes?” and he said.

“snakes with legs” at that point it dawned on me, basically he was afraid of lizards. Snakes with legs.

Lunch. On the way back, we passed this farmhouse type restaurant. They had blocked off some of the reservoir water and made a swimming hole. We sat down and had some traditional meatballs which really look like weasel penises and were delicious, some cheese dish and feta cheese. For $.50 I also bought a sample of the homemade Reki. This is the local liquor that everyone makes and sells along the road. I took a sip, Caroline took a sip, and we gave the rest to a group of German boys. (Think Everclear)Then I decided to get in the “hole”. As you can imagine everyone was quite impressed. It was cold, but it wasn’t as cold as my pool in December. So no problem. $4 total for lunch.

Then we hit the road for the trip back.

My favorite part of the drive back is when we got into the city and a 10-year-old boy and maybe his 12-year-old brother ran up to the car and started washing our windshield. We were screaming “no no”.. and we rolled up the windows and started pulling forward in traffic. But the boy was relentless so the nicest person in the world, Caroline, flips off the 10-year-old boy. He was shocked. Then he saw me through the front windshield laughing hysterically and he flipped off Caroline. Which got even better. He and I were laughing so hard. We couldn’t stop. Then he and his brother ran over and started sponging water hearts on our window. Or maybe it was a penis I’m not sure.

We got back, changed part of our clothes and headed out to check out the bazaar, a famous bridge, the great mosque, didn’t have much success at any of those things. Milled about, had coffee at 7:00, Dinner at 9:00…A traditional restaurant where we had lamb, vegetable, stuffed eggplant, and a liter of Albanian wine. I must say the Albanian wine is excellent. They also accidentally brought us these massive rolled grape leaves..like dolmas.

Now, true to form, we are going to pour our extra liter of wine into our water bottles to walk back to the hotel.

Great day. And big plans for tomorrow. Enjoy the photos.

[5-falsehoods-phonated]

Parting Gift

Summary: Virgil navigates an empty world he didn't see before and he can't see now. Thankfully the modified roomba his parents left him helps in the absence of people.Just a silly little fic I thought of because we recently got a robot vacuum.

Warnings: apocalypse scenario, food mention, insinuated death (not described or shown), mild swearing. If there’s more please let me know!

Ships: background Lociet (background Logan x Janus)

WC: 2405

General Taglist (ask to be added or removed) @im-an-anxious-wreck @logans-library

The tap-tap-tapping of Virgil’s cane as he moved along the road matched perfectly with the beat playing out of the one working earbud in his ear. Whatever town or residential area he had stumbled into was quiet and barren though seemingly not nearly as destroyed as the last one he had been in. Changing direction slightly as he has started to stray into wet grass he continued along what he assumed was a sidewalk, carefully feeling for the edge to make sure he was centered before continuing to sweep the cane in front of him to avoid whatever rubble or trash or non working car might have ended up on the side of the cracked road. 

Virgil didn’t know what the world had looked like before and he could only imagine what it looked like now. Everything had happened so fast he doubted he’d be able to recognize it anyway. He had never been able to see and it had never bothered him as much as it did now; with no way to know if someone was on the road other than the sound of footsteps he hadn’t heard in months and nothing to keep him company except his music and- well he supposed he couldn’t complain. Tripping slightly over a stray rock he hadn’t felt brought him back from his thoughts and into the real world once again, shivering as he realized just how cold it was getting and how truly tired he was from walking all day.

Continuing on only a couple more feet revealed a pathway leading off to what he hoped was a house or a store. As bad as he sometimes felt about it, there was no one around anymore- at least as far as he had managed to travel thus far- no one would miss a couple cans of ravioli and a few bottles of water if he could manage to scrounge them up. The walkway seemed pretty thin leading away from the main road so he assumed he was in a residential area with houses rather than near anything like a general store or pharmacy; he really hoped he came across one soon he was running low on band-aids. He could only do  so much with a cane and though he wished his palms and knees were tougher by now that he wouldn’t have to bandage them every time he fell sadly his callus just wasn’t thick enough.

Long grass brushed his ankles under his too short jeans, wispy blades rustling quietly as he passed. He took his headphone out as he walked after turning on the beat up ipod and pressing where he knew the pause button was from years of the same motion. Crickets began their evening concert as the birds finished their own, the air growing cooler as Virgil imagined the sun finally dipping below the horizon. He shifted the weight of his book bag more to one shoulder as he slipped it off the other hoping to reach an entryway of some sort soon since his feet were protesting the day of doing nothing but picking a direction and walking. Hitting a step he nudged the cane up until he could judge how high it was- sometimes they were high enough to trip him and other times they were so low they were more of an annoyance than anything else- and carefully made his way up all three of them. There were plastic feeling columns on either side of the top step so he assumed he was on the front porch of a house, some careful prodding revealing one of those rubber welcome mats he was constantly getting the soles of his shoes stuck on since when he was tired he refused to pick his feet up properly. He faintly heard his dad telling him to straighten his back and walk like he was alive but he shook it off with an eye roll. Posture didn’t matter if there was no one around to see it.

Fumbling around a minute for the door handle he stopped as his cheeks reddened, reaching up to knock first. Just because he hadn’t run into anyone yet didn’t mean it couldn’t happen and he  really didn't want to break into someone’s home if they were still there and startle them. He didn’t fancy getting shot after so long of surviving o his own and to have that compromised because he was a heathen who didn’t knock anymore would be an idiotic way to go for sure. KNocking, however, proved fruitless. Nothing answered but the crickets though as he knuckle raps turned to rather loud pounds on the door they began to quiet. A part of him still wished sometimes that someone would answer, it had been so long since he’d heard another voice. He knew realistically that if he was still here there would have to be other survivors and that if he kept walking he was bound to run into them. 

After years of doing nothing but that had yet to turn anything up though, and it seemed that this time would be no different. His hand fell to the knob once again as he took a breath and held it before twisting and pushing open the door. Hesitantly sniffing the air revealed nothing but old, unaired house smell and dust that had been kicked up from the bottom of the door brushing the carpet in the entryway. He sneezed loudly, the sound echoing sadly as if the house had missed the concept of sound, and wiped his nose on his sleeve before sighing in relief. Sometimes he entered a house or store and there would be...different smells. Ones that would make him gag and bolt from the building so the hot, cloying scent wouldn’t stick to his cloths. Those days were declared laundry days anyway, sullenly dunking his clothes in the rivers he always stuck close to trying to rid himself of the memory with the fresh smell of laundry detergent and sunlight. The day after that was spent moving as far away as he could as quickly as he could to get away from the dark scent that hung on the streets. It was safer to scrounge out granola bars from the bottom of his bag on those days than to risk looking for anything more substantial in the buildings he might be able to get into.

As it was Virgil stepped in the house and carefully closed the door behind him, swinging his bookbag around and cringing at the sound of the zipper echoing faintly in the doorway. Grabbing a smaller, padded drawstring bag out he opened it and carefully set the Roomba down, giving it a little pet before turning it on. It beeped out a pleasant little tune before the whirring sound of it starting up and moving away filled the house and he smiled, leaving his bag by the door and getting up to explore the house with Stuart.

Stuart the vacuum, as dumb as it was, was Virgil’s only source of company and had been since he was about four. The world was already crumbling at that point and rather than risking going out and about to find Virgil a seeing eye pet that wouldn’t last his whole lifetime if he lived long, his dads had modified their small vacuum for him in the hopes that it would last. And it had. Rather than having to plug into a power source it was solar charged, which the front of the bag it was kept in and his backpack was clear plastic to allow it to charge during the day, storing hours of energy to be able to work when Virgil needed it. Instead of vacuuming it simply went about bumping into things and storing a digital map of any small area, letting Virgil then walk beside it and stop when it beeped, nudging him in a different direction so he didn't bump into or trip on anything. This of course was before he was proficient with feeling his whereabouts with his cane adn at this point it was like letting a trusted pet out for its nightly walk rather than out of any necessity but Virgil loved it as if it was a dog. His most loyal companion...who he kept in his bag all day. He snorted as he felt out what was feeling to be the kitchen; he’d take anything over the oppressive silence of an empty house.

His mouth tightened as he felt around in cabinets for cans- all smooth labels of course, nothing to differentiate the corn from the beets from the manwich spread. He hated the fact that dinners were so often a surprise just because no one had thought to universalize a system to put a bit of braille on cans. Even some raised lettering underneath the label spelling out one word descriptors would be fine, instead he could only go by smell and taste and hope to god nothing he put in his mouth had expired. He missed grilled cheese and fried chicken and french fries- all things he didn’t have the means or resources to make. He never learned to hunt or slaughter anything and he doubted he’d be able to learn when he didn’t even know how to tell what parts of an animal to eat, let alone see what he was doing to cut it out and cook it. He was lucky he taught himself how to start a fire some years ago- he couldn’t imagine actually catching a fish and knowing when it was cooked enough to eat without just burning it to a crisp. Sighing as he opened a can with his old can opened he tentatively sniffed at the contents. 

Baked beans were good. He’d rather have them hot but he had no motivation to go out and start a fire right now and there was no way in hell he was going to try inside- so cold bean jelly it was. He’d had worse. He grabbed his cane from where he had leaned it against the counter and began walking back into what he assumed would be the living room as Stuart beeped to notify him he was done. Smiling as he felt a small nudge he changed direction to navigate around what felt like a dusty leather couch and settled on the floor in front of it to eat his dinner. Stuart came to rest beside him while he dug a spoon out of the smaller bag he always carried and he smirked slightly, feeling around to place a single baked bean on top of the vacuum as a reward for a job well done. 

He tucked in as he thought of what his dads would say about him doing that; both of them would more than likely find it endearing but relentlessly tease him about it for the rest of his life. He imagined his father’s face wrinkling up in an amused smile, scars tugging around crows feet and wispy hair tickling his fingertips. Dad’s smile was a lot smaller but no less sincere, mostly held in his eyes that had his lower eyelid just barely lifting. He missed feeling their faces- they’d let him do it whenever he’d ask to make sure he knew what emotion they were displaying. Both of them were awkward when it came to voicing their feelings and Virgil was always terrible at picking up social cues from simply listening, so being able to read a face as easily as a book often helped put them all at ease.Idly he brushed the top of Stuart’s “head”, feeling nothing but cool, hard plastic beneath his fingers. 

He cleaned up as best as he could, throwing the top of the can away in a trash bin after wiping it off and setting the actual can on the back porch with another full one for whatever might come by. His cane was carefully tucked just underneath the couch as he unrolled his sleeping bag and small pillow to get comfy for the night, placing his little vacuum by his head before snuggling down into bed and sighing quietly. Reaching out he felt for the button on the side of the roomba, a little rough and worn from years of the same routine of day. Biting his lip he pressed it in before snatching his hand away and tucking himself in completely, squeezing his eyes shut like he’d been sleeping all along.

“Is he asleep?” His father’s silky voice cut through the silence.

“I should hope so, it’s dark out and he needs his rest.” Dad was always very matter of fact, Virgil could imagine his arms crossing as he sat on the edge of the bed.

“...Do you want to start or should I?”

Virgil’s dad sighed. “I hope that you got to sleep at a reasonable hour this time, and that you had a good dinner that was as balanced as you could make it. That- that you’re somewhere safe-”

HIs father stepped in smoothly. “We hope that you’re taking care of yourself as best as you can, and taking care of Stuart as well. Hopefully there are people around that can help you when you need it and you aren’t afraid to ask for it- but if there aren’t I know you’re capable enough on your own.”

“We wish you only happiness, no matter how bad things are or get, always remember that it has the capability to get better as long as you are willing to work for it. I know whatever you’re working on or towards you’re doing the absolute best you can do, and we couldn’t be more proud.”

“We love you, Virgil. So, so much and don’t you ever forget that. take care of yourself and please stay safe.”

“Goodnight, Virgil.” He could still remember Dad brushing his fingers through his hair before the weight had disappeared from the bed.

“Goodnight, Virgil. Sweet dreams.” He felt a phantom kiss on the cheek from memory long since passed, the blankets pulled up and tucked around him. The door creaked shut and the recording ended, Stuart beeping softly to indicate he was shutting down. Safely tucked into his sleeping bag with a full stomach in the silence, Virgil let his eyes drift shut, a smile still on his lips as he fell into a peaceful sleep.

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[thesardonicwriter]

The Way It Is, Chapter 4 (Arthur Morgan x Reader)

After two weeks of nonstop treatment, Arthur’s face was finally starting to look better. You hadn’t risked another trip into town. Now that Arthur was up and moving, you wanted to be with him. The last thing that they needed was for him to think he was doing better than he actually was while you were gone and hurting himself again. Or worse, getting caught by the Pinkertons. You didn’t even want to imagine the torture they would go through before they were killed. It was sure to be a slow and painful death, especially after what Abigail had done to Milton. Arthur described it once, the gruesome reality of having someone’s brains sprayed directly onto his face. You had, of course, seen a bullet go through more than a couple of skulls, usually from your own gun, but you had always been a safe distance away and never really had to face the aftermath. You figured that whoever had found Milton hadn’t seen it up close or at all. No, there would be no mercy for them now.

You forced Arthur to his feet. He didn’t protest verbally, but you could see the complaint in his eyes. Even after years of going through this kind of shit, he was still reluctant. Imagine that. He was always so proactive on jobs and helping out others, it was strange to see him so unwilling to do something to help himself. You had no qualms about dragging him out of the cave if it was necessary. Thankfully, Arthur would listen to you. Usually. Even now, as he leaned heavily against you, he was still walking forward.

“That’s it. Just a couple more feet,” you promised.

“You said that already,” Arthur huffed.

“Gotta keep you on your toes. Literally. C’mon, what happened to Arthur Morgan? The guy who could intimidate the world’s strongest man? The guy who, if your ridiculous campfire stories are to be trusted, fought a lion?”

Arthur groaned. “Don’t remind me. That damned Margaret or whatever his name was nearly got me killed. Did get a lot of folk killed down at Emerald Ranch, all to give me some piece a junk for my troubles.”

“Sure he did.”

You chuckled softly. A part of you didn’t believe anything like that could ever have happened, but they were far enough east around that time that you would have believed anything was possible. You looked up at him. He was staring at the ground with an intense expression. All of his energy was focused on getting his leg back up to full strength. He’d been sitting around in that cave for too long. When he stood up for the first time, he immediately fell back on his ass, clutching his wounded leg and grimacing. You had gone out into the woods to take care of the Count after that. You found that the white steed had taken a liking to you. If he was close enough, he’d come to the sound of your voice. You made sure that that pretty white coat of his stayed white and lustrous. While you were out there in the woods, you fashioned a fallen branch into a kind of staff for Arthur to make walking a little easier. Now, he was insisting that he didn’t need it. You had some requests of your own, such as taking him down the mountain side and back. Not all the way, of course. Just a few meters away from the cave. It was still well within view. 

The real challenge was getting the food you cooked to stay in their stomachs. The food you’d bought at the general store had run out in a week. Since Arthur was awake, you felt comfortable going out to do some hunting. However, if you tried to do anything more than roast whatever game you’d managed to catch, it never turned out right. It wasn’t like they had a plethora of ingredients, but it wasn’t pleasant. It was, somewhat, better than having nothing. Hopefully, they’d be off this mountain soon.

“Hey, y’know what I could really go for?” Arthur asked.

“What?”

“Some fish. Dutch’s old rod was in with the Count’s things and I’ve always got mine handy. How’s about we head down to a nice place and try to catch somethin’?”

“Arthur Morgan, suggestin’ that we go fishin’? Now I’ve seen everything.” You didn’t bother trying to hide your grin. “Stay here, I’ll grab the rods.”

You quickly ran back to the cave, crawling inside and grabbing what they needed. You took a few scraps of bread and cheese, too, in case they needed some extra bait. Arthur was waiting somewhat eagerly for you to come back. You helped him move down the more tricky parts of the mountain. There were more than a few places that could get a little steep and slick if one step was wrong. They were following the small stream you’d discovered hidden in one of the many crevices. It was about 20 minutes of walking (mostly because they had to stop every now and then to let Arthur rest) to get to the spring the stream fed into.

Your breath was taken away as you looked at the sight before you. Crystal blue water stretched out just far enough. Vegetation was spread all around them. Some of the plants you knew, but most you couldn’t name off the top of your head. The water reflected the beauty around them. It was somewhat obscured, but that only added to it. The stream fed into the spring like a small waterfall, ensuring that the area would never be completely silent. Not even the lowest part of the rocks reached the surface, standing several inches above the water. A perfect fishing spot. 

“Wow,” you spoke quietly.

“Wow indeed,” Arthur agreed.

Without another word, they both put together their rods, sharing the bait. You moved a few paces away to keep their lines from getting crossed. They sat in silence for a long time. It was comfortable. Perfect, unlike that first night Arthur had been awake. In a place like this, it was easy to forget fear and just… live. Really live and be human for a few fleeting moments. That was all that you really wanted now. Precious moments, surrounded by beauty.

Arthur stopped fidgeting and looked up. You glanced back at him. He was staring at the sky in wonder. His mouth was slightly agape and blue-green eyes were wide. You turned to see what he was looking at. 

The sun was slowly setting in the west. From where they were, they actually had a pretty good view of it. The fading sun cast a glow of orange over the tops of the trees. The usual blue of the sky was melting into the oranges and yellows. The clouds were a light pinkish colour, lazily floating towards nothing. Purples meshed with reds, light and dark came together and it was only for a few moments. Before anything else could be seen or said, the moment was gone. 

Arthur closed his mouth. There was a soft smile traced across his lips still. You stared at the retreating sun for a moment. It really was something else. No matter how many sunsets you saw, you would never get used to the sight of them. Each one of them was so different from the last, so unique.

“I missed the sun,” Arthur said.

“We can see it from the cave,” you shrugged.

“Yeah, but you know that ain’t the same as standing in a place like this and watchin’ it. Don’t try and fool yourself now.”

“Nah, I s’pose not. We better be headin’ back now. I don’t think any of our fish friends are interested in cheese.”

“Hold on! I’ve got somethin’!”

Arthur pulled back on the rod, reeling in whatever it was he had quickly. You watched in anticipation. Neither of them were expecting for his leg to give out at that exact moment.

Arthur was pulled into the water. He landed with a loud splash that sent water up over the rocks and onto you’s boots. Dread overtook you as you looked into the water. Arthur sputtered when he came back to the surface, wiping water from his eyes. He gave his head a good shake and held up the fishing rod.

“Had to cut the line to keep the rod,” he said.

“You okay?” you asked him. You hoped that your voice didn’t sound as worried as you felt.

“Yeah, I’m good. C’mon, help me outta here.”

You made your way down the rocks closer to the water’s edge. You found the spot closest to the water and held out your hand. Arthur swam over to you. His fingers wrapped around your wrist. You started to pull back but was met with a much greater force pulling you in. You barely had time to brace yourself before you were completely submerged. It took you a moment to get your bearings under water. Her eyes stung but you needed to look around. You found the surface and swam quickly. As soon as you were up, you took a deep gulp of fresh air into your lungs. Arthur was laughing like a madman. It wasn’t often that you heard Arthur laugh, but it did nothing to make you less angry at him. You sent a wave of water his way.

“You dumbass! Now we’re both soaked!” You complained.

“Ah, you’re enjoyin’ yourself, don’t lie.” Arthur was still smiling and trying not to laugh. “You need to do that, y’know. Take a little time for yourself. God knows you’ve spent enough of it on an old fool like me.”

“Fool? Yes. Old? No. If you’re old, then so am I and I ain’t ready for that conversation yet. And as for lookin’ out for you? If I didn’t do it, who would?” Arthur opened his mouth to say something back. “All right, will this shut you up? I’ll promise to watch you if you promise to watch me. We’ll take care of each other. Deal?”

You held out your hand expectantly. Arthur didn’t hesitate to take it in his own. His palms were rough and calloused. You were sure that yours felt much the same to him. They shook on it, making it official. You pulled your hand away. As Arthur turned around, you put your hands on his shoulders and pushed down with all of your strength. He was completely submerged. You let out a laugh of your own until you felt his hand on your ankle. Just like that, you were back underwater. You could just barely make out Arthur swimming back for air. You did the same. You pushed your hair out of your face. It was the first time that you had smiled in what felt like months.

You laid on your back and let yourself float. You looked up at the night sky. If Arthur was feeling this good, then their days on the mountain were numbered. If it was just the two of them, they could get off with relative ease. They could even make it back west, if they tried. Find someplace far away from the trains and settle there. Together. Make some kind of a life for whatever time that they had left. You wasn’t going back to being an outlaw. You knew that you could, if you really wanted to. You had been doing well for yourself before Arthur found you. Somehow, it felt wrong to think about going back to that life without the rest of the gang by your side.

Arthur entwined his fingers with yours. You looked over at him. He was staring at the sky, too. As you looked back up, you wondered what was causing that pensive look on his face. Was he worried about the same things you were? All you knew was that he was there and present. With his hand in your own, you could forget about the rest of the world. It was just the two of them in this moment, in their little secret spring. They were unburdened by the need for conversation. The only sound was the soft trickle of the stream.

Arthur let you go and swam to the edge. He pulled himself out of the water. Arthur shook his body like he was a dog, running his fingers through his hair. He leaned down and held out a hand to you. You swam over tentatively and took it. You still didn’t entirely trust Arthur now, not after that stunt. But there were no tricks up Arthur’s sleeve, not this time. He pulled you up with little difficulty, considering his leg wound. 

You stood next to him for a moment, inches away from being flush against his chest. They had been forced to be close together over the past couple of weeks, sure, but this felt different somehow. You took a step back to get rid of the feeling. You didn’t like it and you didn’t like who was causing it.

On the sodden trek back to their temporary home, you kept your arms tight around yourself. By the time they got back to the cave, you were shivering. You made your way into the cave and started gathering up the blankets.

“Make sure to get out of those wet clothes, Arthur. The last thing we need is one of us catchin’ pneumonia,” you warned.

He nodded, facing towards the back of the cave as he started to unbutton his shirt. You stared at his back for longer than you should have. When you turned to face your own wall, your cheeks were burning. Quickly, you took off your own clothes and wrapped one of the blankets around yourself tightly. You set the clothes close to the entrance. You sat against one of the walls and leaned your head back. You let yourself dream of the virgin west for a short while before taking watch.

[jus-clowning-around]

So this is part of my prompt fanfics!

this is a reader x Sam (from spn) fanfic. the reader in this fic can be of any gender. I'll be using gender neutral terms but this fic is for she/her, he/him, and they/them readers. (becuse girls arent the only ones who read fanfiction.)

any way my dumb ass deleted this ask but it was going on a hunt with they boys and sammy being over protective-

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Ship: Reader X Sam (From Spn)

Rating: Pg13

Additional Info: loose fluff

Word Count: 1000

Fandom: supernatural

triggers: light cursing

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Request/ask from- @jamzm

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Send in more asks/prompts! :) NSFW and SFW are both aloud! Same with read x canon vs canon x canon!

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They had been on the road for over 12 hours now, stopping here and there for snacks and bathroom breaks but they still had 5 more hours to their destination and it was starting to wear on the three.

this was the first time the two Winchesters finally let you go on a hunting trip with them. it wasnt nothing to big just a simple low level vampire situation a few miles away from Cleveland, Ohio in some shitty old town, And of course being in a small care since Texas and still going, it was wearing on them.

The two boys were in the front seat arguing over whether The lead singer from ACDC sold his soul to a cross roads demon one of the many arguments started over the long and tiring care ride.

of course Dean was trying to argue with Sam about how he must of and sam..well he wasnt having it.

"Oh come on think about it Sammy, he got famous from a song about going to hell and glamorizing it. it makes sense-" dean said with a crack of a smile.

"yeah in 1979 Dean...he would of been dead by 1989. Ten years remember, you and I both know that's not how it works"

"okay but he could of fought off the hell hounds with that sick guitar of his-" he mumbled getting cut off.

"no Dean"

a chuckle came though from the back making them both turn to look at you, causing sam to hit dean over the head lightly. "the road!" he huffed before shaking his head before a new conversation started up quickly to pass the time.

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Once they arrived in Ohio they stopped at a little diner named "Ricky and Dickys" Dean of course found it funny so they stopped to get the "full hunters experience" but in reality he just wanted a cheese burger.

You sat with Sam as he went though his lap top,reading the same article over and over again.

The same article that lead them to this shit town in the first place. He was tense, not like normal but even more so.

He was nervous. I mean you usually helped around the bunker with small tasks but this was out in the field, this had danger to one false move and one of them could lose one another. So yeah he was nervous.

This wasnt like his normal hunt. This wasn't like working with dean on a vamp nest 10x the size. It was different this time. It was with you. Someone he tried to keep out of danger and now he was throwing them straight into danger.

Even with the trust he had in you already, all the training, all the research, everything. It was you.

"If anything happens-" he started breaking the silence between you two.

"Nothing will happen sam, I've been with you guys over a year now I'm ready to go in a hunt."

" you said trying to reassure the giant across from you. Only to get a look of worry back.He ment well he did. But again. This was you. He cared about you and was gonna be worried no matter what you said or did.

"Just..make sure your phone is charged in case we get separated, and make sure you still have that file of dead mans blood I gave-" he said starting to babble.

"Samuel I'll be fine. I mean I have one of the best hunters in the world as my boyfriend. I know all the tips and tricks. I'm not oblivious. I know a thing or two.

"I know I dont doubt you I just..." he gently put his hand over the others smiling sweetly with those puppy dig of his.

"I care about you. Alot..so just..be safe. Use your head..and eat up" he said softly taking his plate sliding it over to you"

"We cant hunt some nasty with being hungry now can we." He smiled like a fool. Smiling all dopey like a hint of worry still there but quickly fading as his bother joined them.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

When they got back to the motel dean went to his room, right next door. And sam followed you into theirs...he was exhausted, everyone was. It was a trap, it wasnt just a lone vamp, it was a whole nest now running right at them.

A slash here, a slash there landing on the three.

A head here, a head there off the vamps. It took a few sharp machines and some sweat to get them all wipped out. One by one..

He dropped his bag the moment they walked in. He wrapped his arms around the others wasit, letting the weight of the day pull the bath to the ground...this isn't what he wanted for the others first hunting trip.

This was a blood bath. It almost went..so wrong. If they didnt break down that door just a second later he wouldnt be holding them in his arms. He smiled gently holding the other in his arms. Leaving gently kissing on their cheek, on there neck, shoulders.

Anywhere he could get to before wrapping his arms right back around them. His vocie was shaky. Thinking about could of happened to his beloved.

"No more hunting trips...for awile. " he mumbled his voice breaking

"please no more..just for a few weeks. That was way to close. " he said softly

"we barely made it out..i..I miss calculate, I thought it was just one..it was so many.." he mumbled leaned over and over gently pecking their cheek.

"To close.." he mumbled with a frown. He sat there for awile holding on to the other.

He stayied like that for awile. Holding you in his arms, rocking back and forth ever so slight. Just holding each other. This was protection. It was sam Winchester trying to hold on to what was dear to him, emotionally and physically. He spent the rest of the night, kissing up their neck. And holding them close before falling asleep

So I dont think this is exactly what you wanted when you said overly protective sam but I hope you enjoy anyway! I always imagine sam being more emotionally protective over his partner rather then physically (of course he would still snap anyone's nal3ck who fucked with them. But- ) I always imagined him as a kind of, I'll kiss you cheek, and hold you while you cry. And imma worry bout you 24/7 Kind of protective rather then how I imagen dean would be the opposite more of protection physically. To his partner. Anyway enjoy. Already workin GB on your other prompts!)

[eldritchsurveys]

672.

When was the last time you let someone know you truly love him/her? >> Hm.

Do you complain when you are bored, or look for something to do? >> I might say that I’m bored, conversationally, if I’m not alone. But usually I just flop around and wait until my brain settles down. (Usually, boredom for me isn’t a lack of things to do, it’s just a kind of restlessness or anxiety that prevents me from doing anything or focusing on anything.)

Do other people's complaints ever get on your nerves? >> Sure.

Generally, what is your favorite ride at an amusement park? >> I remember liking roller coasters, but I haven’t been to an amusement park in a long time.

Who is your favorite 90's musical artist? >> I mean, a lot of the music I enjoy is from the nineties...

Do you think that music was better when your parents were young, or now? >> Music is just music. Some of it I like, some of it I don’t like, but every time period in the past century-plus has had its pop music that older people hate. I think it’s just more difficult to adapt to new music trends as one gets older, and one is more likely to experience nostalgia for the music they grew up with, and mistakenly assume that their nostalgia means that the music was obviously objectively better back then. There are some musical trends that I wish were still knocking around, sure, but there are some new trends that I love, too. People will always be around making music that I like, no matter what year it is.

How did you develop your specific taste in music? >> I mean, it wasn’t any effort on my part. I just like what I like; I assume it’s mostly subconscious.

If you drink coffee, how do you like it (with cream, black, etc)? >> Black.

Did your parents sign you up for things like piano lessons and ballet? >> He always signed me up for things I didn’t enjoy, and then wondered why I didn’t perform to his standards.

What is your favorite children's song? >> I don’t have one.

Is there a funny story about yourself that you like telling others? >> Probably, but I can’t remember it right now.

Are you good at telling jokes? >> No, I don’t have the memory for constructed jokes.

Are you uptight, or are you easy going? >> I’m neurotic about some things because of how I’m wired, and I’m pretty apathetic about other things for the same reason.

Other than gas, what do you frequently purchase at a gas station? >> I don’t regularly buy things at gas stations.

What is one concern you have about the present state of the world? >> Meh.

Ten years ago, did you think that this was how the world would turn out? >> I wasn’t thinking about how the world would turn out ten years from then.

Ever think you might be better off living in a different time period? >> No.

Do you drink regular or diet soda? >> If I’m going to drink soda, I’m going to drink regular soda.

What CDs would you take with you on a road trip? >> Thank god for Spotify.

Think of your favorite band? What album by them is your LEAST favorite? >> I don’t have a favourite band.

Have you seen your favorite band in concert? If so, how was it? >> I’ve seen live several bands I’ve called “favourite” in the past. They were all great shows.

Do you walk regularly? >> I don’t. Especially not in this season.

Did you take a Health class in high school? How was it? >> Yeah. I don’t know, I slept through most of it.

If you could have the answer to one question, what question would that be? >> ---

Do you like any bands from other countries? >> Sure, of course.

When was the last time you mailed a handwritten letter? >> Uh... middle school?

Do you still receive Christmas cards? >> Not unless I do a card exchange amongst my tumblr mutuals, which I did do one year. But executive dysfunction got in the way last season so I didn’t get around to it.

Do you know anyone who is really hard to please? >> I mean, maybe.

What gets you through the day? >> *shrug*

Do you have a Before Bed routine? >> Not really. I just make sure to take my pill at around 10p.

Describe your stance on organized religion? >> I don’t have a stance on it, really. I find some aspects of it fascinating, some aspects of it helpful, and other aspects of it harmful. Just like... anything, I guess? I’m considering conversion to a particular organised religion, but I’ve been spoiled by the sheer freedom of being unaffiliated and I’m not sure how willing I am to give that up.

Describe your stance on religion in general? >> I’m notoriously interested in and even passionate about religion in general, even when I don’t care to personally participate in it. It’s one of those things I’d consider majoring in if I was in any way inclined towards formal education.

If you found out your bf/gf was homosexual, how would you react? >> Whaaaaat? The woman that is always saying “I’m gay” at any given occasion (particularly when she sees other women) is not straight?????? News to me.

If you are homosexual, and you find out your bf/gf is straight, then what? >> I mean, that’s a situation I can’t really imagine being in.

Have you ever sung karaoke? What songs? Was it fun? >> I’ve sung at live-band karaoke... I’d say around 100, 150 times? I was pretty much a regular. My go-to songs included Smells Like Teen Spirit, Jeremy, and No One Knows. Oh, and The Trooper until I saw [fellow regular] Dorit do a belly-dance bit with a sword on her head during the solo. I think all of us regulars gave up on doing The Trooper after that, lmfao.

Do you study for big tests? >> ---

What makes you nervous? >> Oh, a few things, I guess.

Have you called anyone today? What did you talk about? >> No.

When was the last time you went bowling? >> The last time I was even in a bowling alley is when I was eighteen. The only reason I remember is because that was the last time I saw Thomas before he died. (That bowling alley isn’t even there anymore. Always thought a bowling alley in Port Authority was weird, anyway...)

Do you drive around the neighborhood to look at lights around Xmas? >> We usually just see them on regular drives. When I lived in the Pine Barrens as a preteen, it was nice because we lived by a four-mile-long lake, and you could always see the reflections of the lights across the lake in the water. Also, there was this one house that always went absolutely apeshit with the lights every year. I shudder to think of their electric bill.

Why are so many single people bitter on Valentine's Day? >> Because they’re lonely or have been hurt by exes or are unhappily aromantic, and don’t like being bombarded by hearts and romantic shit everywhere. It’s not rocket science, dude.

What holiday is a big deal for you? >> I mean, Christmas. I enjoy it and for once in my life I get to fully celebrate it.

What is one tradition you hate participating in? >> I don’t know, but whatever it is, I probably just refuse to participate in it period.

Have you ever been sledding? >> Nope.

Do you have acne? >> Not since high school.

Have you made a fool of yourself today? >> Not to my knowledge.

Is there someone you wish you could talk to, but you're too afraid? >> Not specifically. But in general, fear is the foundation of why I don’t open up to people.

Do you have a favorite cookie? >> I like lemon cookies...

When was the last time you did something for someone else? >> Neighbour left her key in her door and I knocked on the door to alert her to it.

Do you let other people choose the radio stations in your car? >> ---

Would you say that you are an accepting and openminded person? >> Sure.

Have you ever been convinced to try something you didn't want to do? >> Not if I really didn’t want to do it. I’ve been convinced to try things that I was on the fence about.

What happened? How did you feel about your choice? >> ---

Have you ever tried to influence someone else? >> I mean, sure, probably.

When was the last time you cheated--at anything? >> I don’t remember.

Do you play any online computer games? If so, what? >> Yeah. I play several MMOs (not at the same time, I usually alternate between them from month to month).

What food can you not seem to get enough of? >> Cheese and crackers, for some reason.

When you are mad at someone, how do you show them? >> I usually just don’t talk to them or don’t give any friendly social cues. Kind of freeze them out, I guess. I figure most people don’t care if I’m upset with them or not, so it doesn’t make any sense to tell them or have a conversation about it. That may be fallacious, but I... also haven’t been explicitly proven wrong yet, lol.

Do you like to think that you are better than other people? >> No.

When was the last time you felt you had a reality check? >> I don’t know.

Have you ever felt out of touch with reality? >> Sure, many times.

Have you ever been sick to the point of possibly dying? >> Nope.

Have you ever had a tooth pulled? >> Yes, because I can’t afford a root canal.

How long do you you usually chew a stick of gum? >> Not that long. The flavour only lasts like five minutes at best, after all, and once the flavour’s gone the gum starts to lose pliability.

Did you chew gum in school, even if it was against the rules? >> I don’t recall doing so.

Did you take a foreign language in school? >> I tried. I didn’t get very far because of changing schools all the time, being in the mental hospital all the time, and also that stupid fiasco where I got no credit for a whole year of Spanish I (I don’t remember why, but it was definitely some bullshit).

Did you attempt to make Honor Roll? Did you make it? >> I only made honour roll in elementary.

What was your favorite school project? >> That report I did about Jim Morrison. Or that project I did about the war against rock and roll, lol (you know, the Satanic Panic around metal music and all that noise; I basically got tired of being told I listened to “devil music” and decided to expose the ridiculousness of it in my final project).

Did you attend any school dances? >> I mean, I went to prom.

Were you in any after school clubs? >> I tried to be, but my father made me leave them because he didn’t approve of the kinds of clubs I wanted to be in (and I didn’t want to be in the kinds of clubs he approved of).

Was there any teacher that made life living hell for you? >> I definitely felt that way.

How about any student(s)? >> Some years, yes.

When was the last time you felt overwhelmed? >> I don’t remember. It’s a common occurrence so I don’t make much note of it when it happens.

Which parent are you more apt to go to if you're upset? >> ---

Do you have any coffee mugs with funny pictures/sayings? >> I have a mug with a cute cactus on it! But Sparrow has all the punny mugs (they’re all cat puns).

Describe your favorite t-shirt? >> ---

Describe something strange that you own? >> Hmm... not sure I own anything strange. Or maybe it’s just that nothing I own is strange to me.

What do you like to do on a friday night? >> Go to Cafe Boba for a weekly meetup group.

What do you like to do on a sunday night? >> Whatever.

Are monday's a drag for you? >> No more or less than any other day of the week.

Do you think graffiti is a valid form of artistic expression? >> Of course.

Do you know where the food you eat comes from? >> Of course not, I live in the US. It’s all a clusterfuck of obfuscation.

Do you ever worry about where the world will be in 20 years? >> No. My peers seem to have that covered.

Have you spent much time contemplating your death? >> Oh, definitely.

Do you know what you want your funeral to be like? >> I know that I want a home vigil (assuming I die when I’m older, after we’ve already bought an actual home). If I die, like, tomorrow or whatever, I guess people can do whatever they want funeral-wise because I’m not interested. Just bury me in a cardboard or pine box in the green section at that one cemetery near us, please. Not in a fucking thousand-dollar metal casket or whatever. Let me decay.

How often do you think dirty thoughts? >> I don’t know, often enough, I guess.

Can mere images turn you on? How about words? >> Images, sure. Words, if they come from Inworld, yeah...

Do you give a good back massage? >> No.

Do you think that feet are disgusting? >> I mean, not inherently. At least they don’t... secrete stuff. (I mean, besides sweat.)

Do you have a girlish scream? >> I don’t recall ever screaming, period.

When was the last time you screamed? >> ^

What is your political affiliation? >> I don’t have one, but I usually vote Democrat.

Are you registered to vote? >> Yeah.

Are you GOING to vote? >> *sigh* Yeah, guess I oughta.

Do you think you would enjoy living in college dorms? >> No. Nooooo no no no no.

Have you ever been to the YMCA? >> Yeah.

If you ditched school, where did you go? >> ---

Have you ever been offered drugs? What, and by who? >> I mean, by friends. Not by complete strangers the way D.A.R.E. insisted. (I mean, that probably does happen too, just not at all with the frequency one would expect...)

Are you afraid to walk places at night if you are alone? >> No.

What's in your school backpack? >> ---

Are you put off by overly social people? >> No. I’m easily exhausted by very extroverted, exuberant people, is all. Doesn’t mean I don’t like them as people.

What do you think of people who are shy? >> I don’t think anything of them, specifically. Some people are just shy. That’s fine.

[danfanciesphil]

New!

too high (can’t come down) by @danfanciesphil

Suspending himself 7,000 feet above the rest of the world seems likely to be a sure-fire way for Dan to escape normality, and isolate himself for the foreseeable future. The Secret of the Alps, a small hotel tucked into the side of the Swiss mountains is too niche for most avid adventurers to have heard of, making it the perfect place for Dan to work as he sorts through his problems. Unfortunately, privacy is a coveted thing, and as Dan soon finds out, the hotel harbours one guest who values it more than most. 

Rating: Explicit Tags: Enemies to lovers, snow, mountains, skiing, hostility, slow burn, secrecy, longing, repression, nobility, classism, cheating, eventual sex

** Hi! Welcome to my new chaptered phanfic, which I shall be updating weekly if possible. I think it’s going to be every Friday, although this may change according to my unpredictable schedule. I hope you enjoy! **

Ao3 Link

Chapter One

The sheer craziness of Dan’s plan doesn’t fully sink in until he’s suspended 7,000 feet up the side of a mountain, inside a violently rocking cable car in the midst of a blizzard so thick that the glass windows are opaque white. Dan’s tour guide, Kaspar, is a true Swiss native; he’s sat on the one wooden bench inside this small capsule, animatedly jabbing at a game on his mobile phone. Kaspar’s utter indifference to the snowstorm is probably the only reason Dan isn’t screaming in fear right now.

“Is it much further?” Dan manages to squeak.

He grips the handlebar running around the interior, knuckles white. His other hand is clasped around the handle of his suitcase, which is desperately trying to escape and skid off across the floor.

“Not far,” Kaspar replies distractedly. He glances up at Dan from his phone; whatever he sees in Dan’s expression - pure terror, probably - is enough to make him put the phone away and pat the space beside him on the bench. His life in Kaspar’s hands, Dan goes to him obediently, swaying with the violent rocking and then falling onto the bench. “Do not fret little Dan,” Kaspar says, thumping him on the back with a wide, cheery smile. “You will not be needing to come back down for many more weeks!”

If this is supposed to calm him, Dan is not convinced that the Swiss are a compassionate bunch. Kaspar is as chipper as his orange, puffy boiler suit might suggest. He also has a purple and yellow bobble hat pulled over a mess of blondish curls and whiskers. Dan has tried to bundle up, having been well aware that the Alps are famously a little on the chilly side, but Kaspar’s outfit is still far superior. Dan imagines Kaspar is toasty warm, whilst Dan’s hands are on the verge of falling off his wrists inside of their gloves.

“Is there another way up?” Dan asks. Or down, more specifically.

“Ya,” Kaspar replies, nodding. “The small airport in town rents out private planes. But they are not cheap, little Dan! Wait for your first paycheque!”

‘Little Dan’ is a baffling nickname considering Dan is six foot, easily, but he chooses not to point this out, assuming Kaspar has his reasons. “Maybe I could hitch a ride with some rich guest or other, next time,” he says, gripping the edge of the bench. 

Kaspar laughs heartily, his whole body shaking with it, so that the cable car shudders alarmingly. “What guests?”

*

After a very unpleasant experience of actually jumping from the cable car doorway - "I cannot stop today, little Dan! I am needed back at the base. You will be fine, just bend your knees as you land, ya?” - Dan dusts the worst of the snow from his trousers and suitcase, then waves to Kaspar, who leans heart-stoppingly far out of the door to call goodbye. Dan watches morosely as the cable car continues on towards its turning point, then judders slowly back down into the blizzard.

Somewhat reluctantly, he turns to find himself in front of what looks like an enormous, luxury log cabin, if it could house fifteen people. There’s a big balcony running across the entire width of the upper story, decked with tables and chairs. The building is made from an umber wood, which stands out vividly against the pure white snow caking its roof and eaves. There’s a sign, partially obscured by the snow, that reads ‘The Secret of the Alps’, which is the only indication that Dan is actually in the right place. No other options available now, Dan trudges through the calf-deep snow to the front door; he does not have the energy right now to admire the picturesque scene this little building makes, nestled into the side of the mountain, nor the spectacular view it faces, which Dan doesn’t let himself turn to admire just yet.

The moment he pushes the heavy door open and steps inside, Dan is engulfed in a pulse of delicious, thick warmth. It’s so glorious that he almost tears up, but thankfully restrains himself, and just rubs his hands together, appreciating. He stands still under the heater for a moment, slowly feeling the cold dripping from him, quite literally it turns out, as he notes the puddle forming at his feet.

“Welcome!” a comfortingly British voice says from nearby. Stood behind a desk ahead of him is a short, buxom woman wearing a fitted charcoal suit jacket and matching skirt. She’s in her mid-thirties, maybe, with dark hair tied up in a tight bun, and a short, severe fringe. Everything about her screams neatness and professionalism, which is a little jarring, in the middle of nowhere as they are. Before Dan can introduce himself, she marches over to him and grabs one of his hands. “Dan Howell, I presume? I’m Mona Kemp, the manager of the hotel. We’ve spoken via email, of course.”

Dan nods, finding it all of a sudden quite difficult to catch his breath, perhaps partly due to the altitude. “Yeah, of course. Great to meet you at last.”

Her hand is ringless and smooth, very pleasant to grip. Having been deprived of human contact for a few days now, Dan finds it a little tricky to make himself let go. Thankfully, she either doesn’t notice, or pretends not to. “You must be absolutely exhausted,” Mona says, taking his suitcase from him. “It’s late, so I thought we’d start with the basics tomorrow morning, let you get a good night’s rest. Does that sound alright?”

“Yeah, fine,” Dan says, glad that he’ll have an opportunity to recover from his harrowing journey before setting to work. “Thank you.”

She’s already wheeling his case along the wooden floor towards a set of floating stairs, leading up to a second storey, which is partly visible as a mezzanine that juts over the front desk. She stops at the base of the stairs, smiling briskly at Dan as she hands the case back to him. Mona digs into her jacket pocket and draws out a key, which she then drops into his hand.

“You’re right at the top, I’m afraid. There’s only three floors, but as I’m sure you’ll find out, heaving bags up three flights of stairs like these,” she kicks at the floating step nearest to her with her pointed boot, “is a bugger.”

“Right,” Dan says, forcing a smile. “Probably best to start practicing then.”

“Love the enthusiasm, Dan,” Mona says, returning the smile. “I’ve asked Louise, our chef, to make you some tomato soup and a grilled cheese. I’ll bring it up to you in about an hour, shall I?”

At the mere mention of something so delicious, Dan’s stomach rumbles, making Mona laugh. Dan laughs too, embarrassed. “That would be fantastic, thank you.”

“Well, Dan,” Mona sticks out her hand for the second time, and Dan takes it greedily. “It’s a pleasure to have you. I hope you’ll enjoy yourself, and that you’ll find your way quickly. We run a small but high-quality establishment. It’s a quiet job, but a pleasant one, particularly if you’re more of an introverted type.”

“I definitely am,” Dan assures her. “I think I might be the perfect fit.”

Mona smiles broadly and removes her hand from Dan’s. “Excellent. Well, let me know if you need anything. I’ll be here at the desk.”

“Thank you, Mona,” Dan says, trying to load the words with the gratitude he feels. He looks upwards, unsure. “Just... up the stairs?”

“Just keep climbing until you can’t get any higher. You won’t miss it,” Mona replies briskly, already back behind the desk. 

Dan nods, pocketing his key, and bends to lift his case. It turns out that Mona was not lying about what a bitch it is to drag a heavy case up three flights of stairs that have huge gaps between them. Dan trips at least ten times, and bruises his shins, but eventually he makes it to the top floor. There are only two rooms up here - seven and eight. Dan’s key says seven, so he pays no attention to the door next to it, and lets himself in.

It’s a bigger room than he’d been expecting, but decorated pretty much exactly how he imagined it would be. Wood-panelled walls, a double bed with a dark blue duvet and a thick grey quilt, an electric heater, a chest of drawers, and a tiny en-suite with just enough room for a toilet, sink and bath. There’s a vase of plastic flowers on the bedside table, along with a lamp, fitted with a navy lampshade to match the bed.

Dan closes the door behind him, shucks off his coat, then pulls off his gloves and his jumper, all of which fall to his feet. He sits down on the bed, takes a deep breath of thin, mountain air, and bursts into tears.

*

The daylight in the mountains is a blinding, fierce sort that Dan has not experienced before. It gleams off the acres of snow draped over the peaks, burrowing into Dan’s room through the thin slices between his curtains, and waking him instantly. He set an alarm before he went to bed, but it’s been rendered redundant now. He lies in the warmth for a few minutes, then forces himself to emerge, trudging into the bathroom. He showers, cleans his teeth, then goes to unzip his suitcase, still packed from the day before. He’d slept in the clothes he arrived in, which was undoubtedly a bad idea, but he couldn’t bring himself to root around for his pyjamas, exhausted and drained as he’d been after a long, tearful evening. 

As he buttons his white shirt - the one his mum bought for him just before he left in what might be one of her five or so selfless acts throughout motherhood - he stares out of his window at the dazzling view of the mountain, utterly hypnotised. The troughs and peaks of the slopes, iced in pearlescent white, are entirely unblemished. 

Actually... almost entirely. 

As Dan’s eyes gradually adjust to the brightness, he begins to notice a small blip in the landscape; a tiny, scarlet fly in the ointment of the picturesque view. He squints, fingers stilling on the shirt buttons as the figure moves steadily towards the horizon, leaving a faint trail of snow prints in its wake.

Startling him away from the window, Dan’s alarm trills, and he goes to switch it off, forgetting the mystery figure. He pulls on a pair of trousers, some thick grey socks, and boots. With a final, cursory glance in the bathroom mirror, Dan gathers himself as best he can, and heads out of the room. He descends the first set of stairs to the floor where all the other guests’ rooms are, then down another flight of stairs into the mezzanine area. Dan had paid little attention as he passed through it last night, but now he sees this area has been made into a cosy seating space, with a big fireplace, several sofas, armchairs, and a few tables and chairs dotted about. There’s a big television in one corner, and he spots some tall wooden shelves crammed with board games and books, and a large basket full of various patterned blankets, above which a sign reads: ‘help yourself!’

To Dan’s right are a set of double doors, nestled in the centre of some enormous floor to ceiling windows. Beyond the glass is a balcony, the one he’d seen from outside, long and wide, and dotted with tables and chairs. Even from here, just staring through the window, Dan can see that the view beyond the balcony is divine. It looks out onto the same expanse of brilliant whiteness that he can see from his own room’s window. Just then, Mona appears at the top of the stairs leading up from the lobby, a big, dark puffy coat zipped around her.  

“Oh! Dan, you’re up, fabulous.” 

She bustles past him, wrenching open a door hidden in the wood-panelled wall, which reveals a small cupboard. From within, she takes out some checkered tablecloths and a big wicker basket, the latter of which she shoves into Dan’s hands, and beckons for him to follow her. The box is very heavy, Dan quickly finds, but he ambles along behind Mona as best he can as she marches towards the balcony doors. The scent of something delicious catches in his nostrils as he goes, and he breathes in deeply, stomach gurgling. Noticing the sound, Mona looks over her shoulder, smiling knowingly.

“I have the same reaction to Louise’s cooking,” she says, then points to what is not, apparently, simply a lifelike painting of an industrial kitchen as Dan had initially thought. What it actually is, he now understands, is a serving hatch - a square cut out of the wall separating the kitchen from the mezzanine area to make it easier for food items to be passed back and forth. Beyond the hatch, in the kitchen, a blonde woman in a white chef’s smock and hat dances back and forth between the various pans sizzling on the stove. “She’s a wonder,” Mona says. “Caters for the hotel entirely on her own. Three meals a day. Guests and staff.”  

“Wow,” Dan says, eyes widening as he steps through the balcony door Mona holds for him. “Is it normal to have just one person do all that?”

“We’re a small business, Dan,” Mona says as if this is enough of an answer, and follows him out. The moment he’s out of the pleasant, close warmth of the hotel’s interior, Dan is plunged into an icy stream of frigid mountain air. Though the day is still, a biting chill nips at his exposed fingers, his neck and face. He nearly drops the basket with the shock of it. “There may not be many of us, but we all play our part, and we manage fine.”

Dan is focusing too hard on not shivering so violently he drops the basket to respond with actual words.

Again, Mona chuckles at him. “We’re out of the wind here thanks to the positions of the peaks, but it still gets damn cold. You might want to think about more layers in future.”

Dan tries not to let his teeth chatter as he asks, “what are we out here for?”

“Setting up for breakfast,” Mona replies, already flinging the checkered tablecloths onto the tables.

“We’re serving breakfast outside?”

“Of course,” Mona says, then turns to flip open the lid of the basket in Dan’s hands, which Dan now understands is full of crockery and cutlery - hence the weight. She pulls out some plastic clips to secure the tablecloths. “One of our best attractions is our ‘breakfast with a view’. We pop the heaters on, of course, and there are blankets if anyone gets too chilly.”

“Oh,” Dan says, glancing at the few tall electric heaters between the tables, and feeling stupid. “Right, I see.”

“Don’t worry,” Mona says with a sympathetic smile. “You’ll get used to things. Start putting the plates out? Two per table.”

Dan smiles back, grateful for her kind, swift demeanour, and focuses on his given task, moving speedily to set each of the six tables. They lay out napkins, plates, mugs and cutlery, and by the time they’re finished, Dan no longer feels as cold. Mona switches on the heaters one by one, complimenting Dan on how diligently he’s getting on with things, and how it took her half the time it normally does to set up out here with his help.

Dan thanks her awkwardly, not really sure why simply doing his job requires praise, and lets his eyes wander to the view once more; idly, Dan remembers that distant crimson figure from this morning.

“Is it safe for people to ski up here?” Dan finds himself asking. “I didn’t read about any ski runs or anything.”

“No, no,” Mona says, her head snapping sharply from side to side as she straightens the cutlery. “Skiing or snowboarding is not a good idea up here. We’re tucked away, so not many people have properly explored the area. It’s all rather treacherous unless you know what you’re doing, so don’t go wandering off on your own. You can stress that to guests if they ask you, as well.”

The crimson mystery-person is on the tip of Dan’s tongue, but it occurs to him that it may well have been a sleepy mirage, brought on by the shock of the sudden change of lifestyle Dan has hurled himself into without warning. He’ll wait for a follow-up sighting before giving any cause for Mona to call up mountain rescue for an imaginary extreme-sports-junkie.

“So, what time do we serve breakfast?” Dan asks instead.

(Chapter Two!)

[takerfoxx]

RD Walpurgis Nights 8, Part 7

Then…

“Hey, Kriemhild?”

Kriemhild didn’t looked up. She didn’t react at all. She just stayed where she was, slumped over and staring at her legs, which were splayed over the grey, stone tiles.

“Kriemhild?”

What was the point? They were stuck, trapped in the middle of a waking nightmare, doomed to die quickly of a long fall or slowly of exposure.

“Kriemhild.”

She should have just let them drop. Free them from the barbed wire, yes, but drop down immediately afterward. Then it would all be over. They were going to end up dead anyway, so why not-

“Kriemhild!”

Sighing, Kriemhild brushed the wet locks of hair hanging down around her face and glanced to the side at her companion. “What?” she said.

Homulilly was sitting on her haunches, looking down at where Kriemhild’s legs were lying like soggy noodles. “I’ve been thinking. We’re…pretty strong, right? I mean, stronger than we look.”

“So?”

Homulilly picked up one of Kriemhild’s limp legs. “So how far do you think you can jump with these?”

Kriemhild frowned. “What does it matter? Down is down, and we’d still die if…”

Her voice trailed off. She looked down at the rest of her legs. Three of them curled upward. She waggled their ends.

“Huh.”

Kriemhild stood up. The way her legs were arranged around her was kind of like the wire support of a wide Victorian gown, or a birdcage. She bounced a bit with them experimentally.

“Huh.”

Then she and Homulilly looked back out at the city. Yes, the clock tower they were on was the tallest building, but not by that much. And while the next rooftop was too far to leap for a normal person, it…might not be outside her ability to reach.

Might.

She and Kriemhild exchanged a glance. Then she took a deep breath, hunkered down low, and then pushed herself up with all her might.

Kriemhild shot into the sky like she was strapped to a rocket.

“Aaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhh!” she screamed, arms flailing and legs writhing like a den of snakes. The roof of the clock tower got smaller and smaller and smaller…

Then it stopped.

And then it started to get bigger again.

“Kriemhild!” Homulilly screamed from below. Kriemhild barely heard her. She was falling and falling and falling as the rooftop rushed up to meet her-

Kriemhild closed her eyes.

Then she stopped.

There had been no impact, no painful collision with the concrete. In fact, as far as she knew, she was still in the air. Still, she kept her eyes closed. Maybe it was like those cartoons when one of the characters would run out over open space but not fall until they actually looked down and saw-

“Kriem-Kriemhild?”

Wait. Come to think of it, she did feel the rooftop. At the ends of her legs, to be exact.

Kriemhild opened her eyes. She had come to a stop a little over a meter before impact and was hovering in place. She glanced this way, and then that way.

All twelve legs were again extended around, arresting her fall and dispersing her momentum.

Somehow, without her thinking about it, she had saved herself on pure reflex.

“Heh,” Kriemhild giggled. “Heh. Hehehehehe. Okay. Okay, th-that was…um, that was…”

“Er, Kriemhild?!”

Kriemhild looked over her shoulder. Then she blushed. Homulilly had fallen back in a heap as Kriemhild had come down toward her and was staring up at Kriemhild’s butt, which was mere centimeters away from her face.

“Oops!” Kriemhild hastily scurried around away from her. “S-Sorry about that.”

Homulilly slowly breathed out. “S’okay,” she said as she sat up. Then she brightened. “And…hey! We might have a way out of here!”

Maybe so, but Kriemhild was still a little dubious about their chances. “It’s still a long way,” she said.

“Better than staying here.”

No arguments there. The two of them went over to the edge of the roof, just behind the gargoyles. Kriemhild lowered herself down, and Homulilly climbed onto her back and wrapped her arms around Kriemhild’s shoulders. Holding tight to her companion’s legs, Kriemhild rose up again.

“I’m not too heavy, am I?” Homulilly asked.

Kriemhild did a couple of experimental bounces. Homulilly was as light as a pillow. “Nope! You’re fine. Just…close your eyes and hold on tight.”

Homulilly didn’t say anything, but her tightened just a little.

Even though she knew it was a bad idea, Kriemhild still shot one last look to the abyss. She gulped. This was going to be incredibly dangerous and terrifying, and if she screwed up, it was going to be a long way to the streets below.

…

Now…

The sky had been iron grey in the morning, but still bright enough to constitute a cheery day.

In the space of only a few hours, that changed.

The clouds had multiplied, growing larger in number and size, choking out the sun until the whole of the land was wreathed in shadow. A powerful wind was blowing in from the sea, bending trees and scattering anything not tied down, increasing ever in strength. Lightning was already starting to course down from above, so far only striking the sea, but it would not be long before it started to seek out targets on the land.

And out in the open Hitomi stood all by herself.

She was on the edge of a sheer cliff, staring down into the sea below. The wind was tearing at her clothes and hair, and she had to brace one foot against a small rock to keep from being forced back. Directly beneath her were several jagged rocks, worn smooth by the waves. The surf was being hurled again and again at the rocks and the stone wall, as if they were an army trying to tear down a fortress’s wall. Even as high as Hitomi was, some of the spray was still reaching her.

The storm was going to be a bad one. And Hitomi had nowhere to go. She had no home, no friends, no place to turn to for shelter.

Pausing her chewing for a moment, she glanced down at the umbrella still clenched in an iron grip. Well, no, she had quite a few places to go. She could come crawling back to the FIB and beg them for forgiveness. She could throw herself to the mercy of Madoka and her friends in hope that they would grant her sanctuary. She could head back to Old Town and figure out where all those homeless girls went when the weather got bad. Honestly, she could go wherever she wanted.

Except she had nowhere she wanted to go. She couldn’t show her face at the FIB again. She couldn’t risk the wrath of Madoka’s friends either. After all, if Homura had been that scary, then she could only imagine what the others were like. And she sure wasn’t going to Old Town! That was completely out of the question!

Maybe she could go find Marisa again. The renegade vagabond probably had a…tent or something. She spent all her time out in the world, so she probably had some sort of ready system for storms. And out of all of Hitomi’s options, she was the least likely to hurt her.

Lightning suddenly split the sky in front of her, striking at the sea. Thunder boomed seconds later.

Hitomi froze, and then started chewing her finger again. No, no, no, no. She couldn’t do any of that. Because even if she found a safe place, she would still be in the same predicament after the storm had passed. Homeless, friendless, without a path or purpose.

Suddenly the distracting pain of her teeth flared up, and Hitomi felt something tickle the top of her mouth. She popped her finger out of her mouth and stared. She had finally managed to break the skin, and now a trickle of green mist was seeping from the wound to get blown into oblivion from the wind, like an emerald thread stabbed into her fingers.

Then she looked back down at the sheer edge, just a few kilometers from her toes.

Well, there was one path she could take, and it was getting more and more appealing. Could people die here? If they destroyed their bodies, broke them beyond repair, what happened then? Would she just simply pass on to wherever her soul was supposed to go in the first place? Was Freehaven and the rest of this crazy world simply a waystop for those who didn’t care to make the whole trip?

Hitomi had to admit, she was starting to want to find out.

Lightning cracked again, closer this time.

Hitomi lifted a foot and started to move it forward. However, as she did so, the wind somehow redoubled in strength, pushing her back. She winced and ended up taking several steps back.

Then her face hardened. No, the storm was right. She couldn’t end it now. She still had her mission, her reason for coming here in a first place. She had traded her soul for a wish, and she was going to see it fulfilled!

The rain started to fall…no, wait, that word is insufficient. The rain wasn’t falling down, it was crashing down, growing stronger and stronger in force until Hitomi felt like she was standing beneath a waterfall.

How appropriate then that she had an umbrella.

Hitomi opened the umbrella’s canopy and set it against the rain. The wind threatened to rip it away from her, but she gripped it with both hands and stood her ground.

“Take me to Sayaka Miki!” she ordered, shouting as loud as she could to be heard over the storm. “Right now!”

Lightning struck a third time, and when the thunder boomed, there was no one to hear it.

…

The gale hit just as they were reaching home.

Holding onto each other’s hand, Homulilly and Gretchen ran as fast as they could as the forest began to bend. Loose leaves and other debris started to take to the air.

“What’s going on?” Gretchen said. “The storm wasn’t supposed to hit until the day after tomorrow!”

“I don’t know,” Homulilly said. “I guess they held it back for too long.”

They hurried across the backyard toward the back door. Once they were inside, Homulilly shut it fast and locked it.

Moments later the side of the house started to get pelted by rain.

“Whew,” Gretchen said. “Just in time.”

Cheese came flapping through the air to land on her head.

“There you are,” she said, reaching up to move him to her arm. “Glad you made it too.”

Ophelia came in from the other room. She looked pretty harried. “Hey, thanks for coming back. Sorry to cut your walk short, but-”

Then she got a look at the rain pelting the windows.

“Oh, what? What the hell?” she said. “That’s not supposed to happen for two more days!”

“We had noticed,” Homulilly said dryly.

Ophelia shook her head. “Jesus. It just figures. Even with magic and alien technology, the weather report still isn’t worth a damn.” She put her hands on her hips and sighed. “Anyway, like Charlotte said, we had a bit of an…incident.”

“We know,” Gretchen said. “Is Candeloro all right?”

“She’s fine, all things considered. We already put her to bed. Charlotte ran out to grab some-”

Then she froze. “Oh. Shit.”

“Huh.”

Ophelia turned toward the front door. “Well, Charlotte ran out to the convenience store to grab some hangover medication and Spiritade for when Candy wakes up.” She sucked in air through her teeth. “Yeah, she’s…probably not happy right now. Damn.”

Gretchen and Homulilly exchanged an uncomfortable look. As unfortunate as Charlotte’s situation might be, there was something else even more pressing.

Homulilly tilted her head meaningfully toward Ophelia. Sighing, Gretchen cleared her throat and said, “Um, Ophelia? There’s something else you need to know-”

Right about then the front door banged open. Lightning crashed, illuminating a panting and haggard silhouette that was standing on the doorstep, water dripping from its limbs and a bag clutched in its hands.

“Why,” Charlotte said as she stumbled into the house. “The fuck. Is it raining now?!”

…

The place Hitomi’s umbrella had taken her was far different than any other place she had seen so far. It was a stark and narrow corridor of steel with a pale blue floor and silvery grey walls and ceiling. The doors were all metal that curved at the angles, and there was a metal railing along each wall.

She shook her head. Well, it made sense that a mermaid would be working on a ship. And didn’t Sayaka say something earlier about hunting for a sea monster? Why the supposed afterlife even had a sea monster, she couldn’t fathom.

Regardless, she was for a reason. She just needed to find Sayaka and…well, she would figure things out from there.

Fortunately, she didn’t need to look far. One of the cabin doors was open down the hall from her, and from it she could hear her long-lost friend’s voice.

“…sounds like it’s bigger and stronger than everyone expected. Probably a side-effect from keeping it back so long for the graduation.”

Hitomi took a deep breath. Then she crept along on tip-toe over to the door.

“Anyway, they said they’re just going to let it get all of its raging out of its system the old-fashioned way. Unfortunately, that means closing down all the docks until it’s done. Which means I am kind of stuck here until that’s over with.”

Raging? Closing the docks? Just how big was this sea monster?

“That’s…God, we have the worst luck sometimes,” said a tinny, yet recognizable voice. It was Ophelia. Hitomi froze. What was she doing here? How was she here?

“Tell me about it,” Sayaka said miserably. “Stupid weather. Couldn’t have waited a week or two before tearing shit up. But no, it just has to go piss all over everything right at the most inconvenient time possible.”

“Well, I mean technically, it was supposed to do its tearing and pissing a few days ago…”

“Oh, you know what I mean. Let me bitch.”

Oh, they were talking about the storm. That made sense. It had been a big one.

Summoning up her courage, Hitomi sidled up to the edge of the door and peeked in.

Mermaid Sayaka was there all right, though her shirt and hat were gone, replaced with the upper part of a black-and-blue wetsuit. She was seated in that spider-legged chair of hers, facing toward a desk. And hovering over the desk was what looked like a glowing computer screen, minus an actual monitor. Though Hitomi couldn’t get a good look from her position, there did seem to be someone’s face on it.

Hitomi quickly retreated out of sight. Oh, Sayaka was talking to one of those sci-fi…holographic…viewscreen…thingies. That made way more sense than having the girlfriend be around.

Well, okay, she just had to wait until Sayaka hung up to talk to her! Hopefully nobody was going to show up before then.

“Are you sure that’s safe though? I mean, you’re kind of stuck out in the middle of the ocean when there’s a fucking hurricane blowing.”

“It’s not quite a hurricane. But anyway, I’m fine. The Aurora Borealis has some kick-ass storm protection. Better than the docks, actually. I’m actually safer here than you guys are back home.”

“Gee, thanks for that thought. But that means you’re stopping the search, right?”

Search? Hitomi’s hands tightened around the umbrella’s handle. Did they mean the search for her?

“Nah, we’re using the submersibles until the topside calms down. Means we can’t cover as big an area, unfortunately. But we’re narrowing that thing’s feeding area down, so there’s that. We’re actually heading back out in about half an hour.”

“Damn.”

“Sorry to disappoint. But we really do need to catch this thing.”

“I know, I know,” Ophelia sighed. “Just…get back safely, okay?”

“Of course I will,” Sayaka said. Then she paused for a worrying long time. “Okay, what’s the part you’re not telling me?”

Hitomi tensed up.

“What are you talking about?” Ophelia said with forced cheerfulness. “You’re the one in peril!”

Peril? Peril from what? From her? Did they really think that she was that dangerous?

Then Hitomi glanced at the steel ship around her. Maybe it was the storm, or maybe this sea monster. If so, then coming here was probably an even worse idea than she had thought.

“Ophelia…” Sayaka sighed.

“Ugh, damn you and your weird perception.” Ophelia paused for a moment before saying, “You know, maybe this should wait until you’re back. I don’t want you distracted.”

“Ophelia!”

“Fine.” Ophelia sighed. “Okay, well, don’t freak out, but a couple hours ago, Candeloro had a relapse.”

Hitomi blinked in confusion. Okay…that wasn’t exactly what she had thought she was going to hear. Candeloro? That was…Mami Tomoe’s new name, right?

“Had a…” Sayaka repeated in confusion. Then her chair made a rattling sound as she apparently jerked up in surprise. “Wait, she fell off the wagon?”

“Yeah. Me and Charlotte had to pick her up from the pub. She was kind of a mess.”

Oh, a drinking relapse then. Their friend Candeloro had a drinking problem apparently, and something made her succumb to temptation.

Hitomi swallowed. She had a good idea of what that something was.

“Oh no,” Sayaka said softly.

“She’s sleeping it off, and we’re all with her, so she should be fine. But I guess the stress of everything just got to her.”

“Shit. This must’ve hit her harder than she let on.”

“I think that applies to everyone.” Ophelia said grimly. She hesitated, and then said, “I had kind of a weird episode when I was practicing with my spear.”

“Yeah, and I had this weird mental hiccup when I was listening to my music earlier. And yes, it was violin music.”

Hitomi gasped. Then she clamped a hand over her mouth when she realized how loud it had been. Sayaka didn’t seem to hear though.

Still…violin music? Was she remembering? Was this happening?

“This is getting scary,” Ophelia said.

“Yeah. Yeah, no arguments here.” The two stopped talking for a moment, and when Sayaka’s voice returned, there was a slight edge of suspicion. “Um, say, things didn’t turn out the same way they did the last time Candeloro got really drunk, did they?”

Another pause, longer this time. “Okay. That’s not fair,” Ophelia said at last.

“You’re right. I’m sorry,” Sayaka sighed.

Hitomi frowned. She leaned in a little closer.

“It’s fine,” Ophelia sighed, though her voice indicated that whatever it was that Sayaka’s comment had referenced, she was not at all pleased that it had been brought up. “This whole thing has us all on edge. Which…brings us to the other problem.

“Oh, hell,” Sayaka sighed.

“Okay, brace yourself. Apparently your old friend Hitomi ran away from the FIB.”

This time, Hitomi had to clamp both hands over her mouth to keep from making a sound.

“What? How?”

“Apparently she can teleport! Who knew, right?”

“Oh, that is so not good.”

Hitomi felt like she had been kicked in the stomach.

“Yeah, apparently she had a little sit-down with Gretchen until Homulilly showed up and chased her off. Can’t wait to find out how much damage that caused.”

“Wait, why didn’t Gretchen…”

“Because she’s Gretchen, and Gretchen is compassionate to a fault. That kid, sometimes I swear…”

Hitomi’s fingers curled into shaking fists. Was she really that bad after all?

“So, let me get this straight: since I left not five hours ago, Candeloro fell off the wagon for the first time in years, Hitomi got loose and is now free to knock any one of our minds loose with forbidden knowledge, and Gretchen just up and…let her?”

“Didn’t you see her face at the meeting the other day? As soon as Charlotte mentioned her having a baby brother I knew something like this was going to happen.

“If I told you that this was really starting to scare me, would you laugh at me?”

Sayaka…was scared of her. They were all scared of her.

But why?! Okay, she knew why: Homura Akemi had been pretty to the point on that. But why was it that way in the first place? She had died to find her friends, and now, just by showing up, she was somehow destroying their lives.

“If I told you that I’m scared too, would it make it easier?” Ophelia said. “Anyway, I didn’t want to dump this on you, given the job you still have to do, but-”

“No, no, it’s better that you did. Besides, my part is honestly pretty minor in all this. Odds are, someone else will spot the damned thing before I do, so…”

Her voice trailed off. For a moment, Hitomi started to wonder if she had hung up, but then she said, “So. Hitomi can teleport, huh?”

“Watch your back. And tail. She might show up over where you are.”

“Good thing she didn’t a couple hours ago. She would’ve ended up at the bottom of the ocean. Unless she did and we just didn’t notice.”

Hitomi swallowed. She hadn’t even thought of that.

“There’s a cheery thought. Are you going to be all right with this?”

“I…guess? I don’t know, supposed old friend suddenly pops up out of nowhere, and I guess she might be the reason we all witched out? And she’s out there looking for me? Like, I don’t even know how to begin to start processing that.”

“You’re not…curious about it, are you?”

Hitomi held her breath.

“Well, I mean…”

“Tavi…”

Tavi? What was a Tavi? Was that some kind of weird phrase they had around-

Oh. Oh, wait. Sayaka’s…new name. Oktavia, wasn’t it? So it was probably just a cute little nickname.

Yes, a cute little nickname between two people in love with one another who had been living a perfectly nice little life right up until Hitomi showed up to ruin everything…

“I know, I know,” Sayaka sighed. “It’s just, you gotta feel for the kid, you know?”

And now Sayaka was feeling sorry for her! This just kept getting better all the time.

“Feeling for her is one thing. Putting yourself in danger is another. Promise me you’ll play it safe. If she somehow does show up, don’t engage, okay?”

“You make her sound like an invading army or something.”

“More like a trojan horse. Look, just be careful, okay? I don’t want to hear about you surviving the sea monster just to get psychically walloped by Little Miss Disaster Area.”

“I will. Take care of Candy, okay?”

“Promise.”

There was a winking out sound as Sayaka ended the call.

Hitomi slowly breathed out. What was she going to do? She couldn’t talk to Sayaka now, not after hearing all that. What if she did end up hurting her somehow? She had already apparently already wrecked Homura Akemi’s mental health and made a complete stranger succumb to alcoholism. And here she was, about to do the same to Sayaka when her friend was already in danger…from sea monster, apparently.

Hitomi couldn’t decide whether to be more distraught or confused by that last detail. Her long-lost friend Sayaka Miki was now a mermaid who professionally hunted sea monsters. How exactly was one supposed to even begin to react to something like that?

Hitomi was out of her depth. She was completely in over her head. She felt like she was sinking into a deep sea, and the harder she tried to swim for the surface, the deeper it became. Around every corner was some new rule that was completely terrifying, made no sense whatsoever, or went out of its way to screw her over. It was like everything had been deliberately set up just to tear her heart out.

It would have been better had Sayaka and Madoka not been around at all. In time, she could have adjusted, could have come to terms with how things were. But instead, this new world was so cruel that it dangled them right in front of her, tempting her with the one thing she had literally given up her soul to obtain, only to tell her that she was some kind of terrible person for reaching for it. It wasn’t fair!

Maybe she should…no. No, she couldn’t leave now, not when she was so close! Sayaka was right there! All she had to do was go in and…

And what? Sayaka had already been warned about her. She would probably just sound the alarm or something. Besides, anything Hitomi had to say would just make things worse for her! She had already wrecked enough of their lives as it was.

But surely, a simple “sorry” ought to be fine. Just say that she was sorry for the burden she had put upon her when they were both alive. It didn’t matter if Sayaka didn’t understand what she was talking about, the real Sayaka would still hear. She would still understand, right?

But what if she didn’t? Or worse, what if she did hear, and that triggered…whatever it was that Homura Akemi was going through? What if her selfish desire to be forgiven just made things even worse?

Hitomi balled up her hands into fists and banged them against the ground. “Damn it!” she said, swearing for what was probably the first time in her life. “Just decide! For once in your stupid life, just-”

“Uh, what?”

Hitomi froze. Oh no. That had been out loud.

“Someone there?”

Hitomi’s hands started shaking. Without even thinking about it she started to chew on her finger.

Then there came the gentle hissing of the mechanical chair’s legs. A moment later they stepped out of the cabin, bringing the mermaid with them. “Hey,” Sayaka said. “Sorry, but…”

Then their eyes met.

Sayaka frowned. “Er, sorry, but have me met? I don’t…”

Then she stopped talking. Her eyes went wide.

“Oh,” she said. “Uh…”

Hitomi swallowed. “Hi,” she said in a tinny voice.

“You…You’re…”

Hitomi slowly nodded. “I…I…uh…”

Sayaka looked around nervously. “Okay. Okay, okay, okay. Um. Shit. L-Listen, could you please not…”

Oh God, Sayaka was actually scared of her. She was scared of her! Hitomi had traveled across the boundary of life and death itself to a whole new world to find her, and when she did, her friend was scared of her!

And she had good reason to be.

Hitomi closed her eyes and sighed. She had done enough harm. It was time to go.

She grabbed her umbrella and stood up. Sayaka stiffened, almost as if she were anticipating an attack.

“I’m sorry,” Hitomi said. That much should be all right, right? “For everything.”

Then, before Sayaka could reply, Hitomi opened her umbrella and whisked herself away.

…

Become a witch…or die.

Mami Tomoe awoke to the sound of falling rain.

She was lying somewhere in darkness. Not complete darkness; there were still shadows and silhouettes, but dark enough. Where exactly, she couldn’t say. It was somewhere…soft. And warm.

A bed. Her bed? No. No, it was too big. Her bed was a simple twin, the one she was in was easily large enough for two people and then some. Then it must be someone else’s bed, someone else’s…

No. No, wait. She…it was her bed, the one that she shared with…she shared with…her, her wife!

I’m married?

Well, of course she was married! To…To Charlotte! Yes, she was married to Charlotte, and they lived in a big house with…

Kyo-

…with Ophelia and…

-yaka-

…and Oktavia! And their young friends…

-adok-

…Gretchen and…

Homu-

…Homulilly had just moved in as well.

As for herself, she…she…

She sighed. She had done it. She had fallen off the wagon. She had gotten herself blackout drunk. So many years of self-control, and now look where her one slip had gotten her. Humiliated, miserable, dry as a desert, sick to her stomach, and oh her head…

She groaned and pressed a palm to her forehead. She hadn’t even remembered to stay hydrated. It was the one thing she always got on her friends about whenever they went out drinking. Don’t forget hydration! You don’t want to wake up with a splitting headache.

Well, now she was the one whose head felt like it was filled with feverish pudding that was swimming and swirling and sloshing this way and that, filled with regrets and names that made no sense to her, names like…

Mam-

…like..

-omo-

…uh…

Candeloro blinked. The name had simply evaporated out of her head, as had the others. She tried to snatch them from disappearing into oblivion, but they were simply gone.

She sighed. Oh well, it was probably just hangover-induced delirium. She had enough to worry about to go clinging to dissipating dreams.

Then she looked to her left. There seemed to be something on the nightstand, something that wasn’t supposed to be there.

Squinting, she reached over to touch it. It was vaguely cylindrical, with a tapered top and a fat body, and it was cold…

Oh. A Spiritade bottle. And next to it was a bottle of what was probably something to help with her headache.

Candeloro sighed. Charlotte and Ophelia had brought her home, tucked her in, and had left her everything she needed to deal with her hangover. And all that after she had let them down. She didn’t deserve any of them, she really didn’t.

Part of her wanted to just leave it all for later and go back to sleep, but no. She couldn’t hide from this. She had been the one to screw up, now she needed to face the music.

Candeloro groggily fumbled around until she found the cord of her bedside lamp. The sudden onslaught of light stabbed into her eyes and seemed to ignite the tempest inside of her head. Wincing, she grabbed the bottles of pills and blearily squinted at the label. Okay, this stuff was for her stomach, and that…and that one was for her headache.

The lids had already been helpfully cracked (thank God, her ribbons really weren’t suited for that sort of thing), so she shook out a couple of each, popped them into her mouth, swallowed, and then gulped down two-thirds of the Spiritade in one go.

Oh, it felt so good going down…

Once she felt well enough, she got up. Her legs were still a little woozy and her sense of balance a bit off, but she managed to make her way to the door and open it.

Most of the lights in the house were off, and it was surprisingly dark outside. What was more, the rain was now coming down hard. Wasn’t that supposed to not happen for a couple more days? How long had she been out?

Candeloro rubbed her head. She could figure that out later, but for now, there was another matter to take care of, and was that if she didn’t pee right now, then her drunken escapade wasn’t the only humiliation her friends were going to have to clean up.

She stumbled her way into the bathroom and toward the toilet. Moments later she was sighing in relief.

She flushed, and then went over to the sink. Her ribbons were fortunately waterproof, so she wet their ends, lathered them with soap, and washed her face, trying to clean away the last of the sickly feeling. There was still some mouthwash, so she gargled that and spat.

Then she looked at herself in the mirror.

She looked…much the same as always. Round face; long, blonde hair that hung around her shoulders; large golden eyes with heavy lids. True, she looked a little more haggard than usual, but that was to be expected.

What was odd was how disquieting her own reflection was making her.

Candeloro squinted. Her reflection squinted in turn. She tilted her head one way, and then the next. Her reflection mirrored the movements. She stuck out her tongue, and saw a pink tongue in the mirror. She lifted her right ribbon and waggled it. Her reflection lifted its right hand and-

Wait, WHAT?!

Candeloro jerked back away from the mirror, her illusionary heartbeat pounding away. Her own face stared back at her from the mirror, eyes wide with shock.

She looked down. Her ribbons were there, same as always. She looked back to the mirror. Also ribbons. No arms or hands to be found. She waved her ribbons back and forth, and saw the motion duplicated.

Candeloro groaned. Oh no. She didn’t need this, not some next level spiritual dissonance on top of everything else.

Shaking her head, she left the bathroom.

Gretchen and Homulilly’s door was closed, but she thought that she could hear them inside. Wincing, she left them alone and went downstairs. No need to rush that conversation.

Most of the house seemed empty, but she found Ophelia sitting at the kitchen table, a soda in one hand and the idly scratching Cheese under his beak. She was just wearing a pair of workout shorts and a white tank-top, and was staring out the window, watching the rain.

Hearing Candeloro approach, Ophelia turned toward her and raised an eyebrow. “Well, you’re up faster than I expected. Feeling okay?”

Candeloro wondered if she ought to mention her little episode in the bathroom, but decided against it. That was something you really had to build up toward. “Not really,” she said. “Where’s Charlotte?”

“Using my shower. We figured you’d need the bathroom when you woke up, so we decided to keep it free. Anyway, I put some tea on earlier. Want some?”

Candeloro sat down at the table. “Yes. Please.”

Ophelia got up and poured a cup. She brought it over and set it down in front of Candeloro.

“Thank you,” Candeloro said, and she took a sip. Ginger. Oh, just what she needed.

She set the cup down. “Thank you for coming to get me.”

Ophelia shrugged. “No problem.”

Candeloro looked down at her reflection in the murky liquid. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey, all things considered, I can’t blame you.” Ophelia picked Cheese up on her arm and gave him a small toss, sending him flapping over to his jungle gym. Then she turned her seat around to face Candeloro. “You wanna talk about it?”

Candeloro pursed her lips. “What is there to talk about? I screwed up. I talked a big game about…about sticking together and how we’re going to get through this, but the second I was left alone…” She tapped the end of her ribbon to the surface of her tea, sending ripples out to distort her reflection. “I broke down. I knew it was a bad idea, I knew where it would lead, but I did it anyway. I let you all down.”

Ophelia looked at her for a good long while without saying anything. She fingered the tab on her soda for a bit, rocking it back and forth. Then she looked down and sighed.

“Homulilly’s already exhibiting signs of spiritual dissonance,” she said softly. “I had a weird little freak-out earlier today. Apparently Oktavia’s getting weird reactions to her own music. I don’t think any of us can throw stones about not being our best.”

Candeloro felt her stomach twist up. “Mine’s more serious though. I can’t afford to let myself slip. You of all people should understand that.”

Ophelia shot her a hard look. “We were young and stupid, Candeloro.”

“We hurt the people we cared about the most because we were stupid,” Candeloro said, staring down at her reflection. “And I think the consequences of this situation could be quite a bit more serious than simply you and me getting drunk, sleeping together, and lying about it for two weeks straight.” She shook her head. “I should have known better. No, I did know better. And I did it anyway.”

“Well, you’re not the only one. And speaking of which, there’s something you ought to know…”

Right about then a door opened in another part of the house. Moments later, Charlotte showed up, her hair still damp. She was yawning widely. When she opened her eyes, she saw Candeloro sitting at the table, and her face brightened immediately.

Candeloro smiled weakly. “Hey.”

Charlotte didn’t say anything. She just went to her knees and threw her arms around her wife.

Candeloro was more than happy to return the gesture. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

“No, I am.” Candeloro felt her throat tighten. “I should’ve…”

Charlotte moved back and laid a hand on Candeloro’s shoulder. “Beat yourself up later,” she said. “Right now, I just need you whole.”

Then Ophelia cleared her throat. “Um, sorry to cut in, but there’s something we really need to talk about.”

Candeloro sighed. “I know, Kyoko. But could you give us just a minute?”

“Huh?”

“I said, could you-”

“N-No, not that. I mean the first part. What did you call me?”

Candeloro frowned. “I called you Ophelia. You know, your name?”

“No. No…you did not.”

Candeloro paused. She looked at Charlotte, who had a look of confusion on her face, one that slowly morphed into one of dawning horror.

“How did you learn that name?” Charlotte whispered.

Candeloro didn’t have anything to say. She then turned toward Ophelia.

Her normally unflappable friend was sitting stock still, frozen in place. If it weren’t for how badly her body was trembling, she could have been mistaken for a statue.

Lightning flashed outside, briefly illuminating Ophelia’s bright scarlet eyes.

“Who,” she said in a hoarse whisper, “the fuck is Kyoko?”

…

Twang.

The rain had started off bad, and it was steadily getting worse.

Homulilly and Gretchen sat in their room, listening to it hammer the window and the sides of the house. Homulilly was sitting in the loveseat, fiddling with her shield. There was something weird about its construction. The front plate sat on a swivel, allowing it to be clicked into place one direction or the other. What that was supposed to serve, she couldn’t guess. Whatever it had done was gone now though.

As for Gretchen, she was sitting on the bed and staring out the window, bow in her lap. Every few seconds she would pull back on the string and let it go, making it vibrate like a harp.

The two weren’t talking. It wasn’t out of anger or resentment with one another, though Homulilly had to admit that she was more than a little frustrated with Gretchen for the situation she had allowed herself to be put in. There just seemed to be a feeling of anticipation and dread hanging over them, one as dark and thick as the actual clouds that were blotting out the sky. Something was very wrong, something in addition to the spiritual dissonance that was started to invade their household. Homulilly couldn’t shake the feeling that something was coming, something big.

Twang.

To distract herself, Homulilly continued to poke around the shield’s workings. In addition to being able to turn back and forth, their seemed to be a small compartment nestled within its back. It wasn’t very large though, barely big enough for her to fit her fist in. What use was something like that, and what had it been for originally?

She sighed. Maybe she had been too harsh on Gretchen. Sure, pumping Hitomi for information had been all sorts of dangerous, but playing with her old shield had to fall under the same category. But she had to do something to take her mind off of things.

Gretchen pulled back on the string again, but instead of releasing it, she just sighed and brought it back. “I hope she’s okay,” she said, staring out into the rain.

Homulilly paused. “You mean Candeloro?” she said, a hint of warning in her voice.

Gretchen winced. “Well, of course I hope Candeloro is okay! B-But at least she’s here, safe and warm with people to take care of her! But Hitomi’s out there all alone!”

Homulilly looked back down at her shield. “She wouldn’t be if she just went back to the FIB,” she muttered.

“She’s just scared.”

“Fear often leads to stupid decisions. And she’s making a lot of-”

Suddenly Gretchen straightened up. “Oh my God!” she gasped. “She’s outside!”

“What?!” Homulilly leapt off the chair and rushed over to the window.

Sure enough, there was Hitomi, standing where the backyard melted into the forest. She had her hood up and umbrella open above her, though that didn’t seem to be providing much protection from the rain.

However, she didn’t seem to notice. She was just standing there, staring up at the house, looking right at Gretchen and Homulilly’s window. Her face was completely blank.

“What is she doing?” Homulilly said.

Gretchen shook her head. “I…I don’t know.”

Hitomi saw that she had been noticed. She took a deep breath through her nose, as if bracing herself. Then she let it out and smiled sadly. She waved, and mouthed the words, I’m sorry. Goodbye.

With that, she turned and walked away, following a dirt (well, mud now) path through the woods.

“Oh no,” Gretchen whispered. “She isn’t.”

“Isn’t what?”

Gretchen hastily popped the window’s lock and threw it open. Immediately the two girls were buffeted by the hammering rain and howling winds. “That path leads straight to the cliff!” she called. “I have to stop her!” And with that, she threw herself out of the window into the storm.

“Gretchen, wait!” Homulilly rushed after her. She slipped out of the window onto the roof, slid down its length, and leapt.

…

Candeloro felt so twisted up. That name…that name she had just called Ophelia. Where had to come from?

“That’s my name, isn’t it?” Ophelia said, staring daggers at Candeloro and Charlotte both. “My old name. Kyoko. I’m Kyoko, right?”

Charlotte swallowed. “Um, yeah. It is. Ky-Kyoko Sakura.”

“You told her?”

“No, I haven’t told anyone! You all said you didn’t want to know, remember?”

“She hasn’t,” Candeloro said.

“Then how the fuck did you-”

Then they heard a thump on the roof.

Their quarrel forgotten, Candeloro, Charlotte, and Ophelia all looked up to the ceiling in puzzlement. “The hell was that?” Ophelia said.

Then, out the window, they saw Gretchen fall from the sky onto the backyard. Without missing a beat, the pink-haired girl took off like a woman possessed, all twelve of her legs carrying her along at incredible speed.

Three sets of jaws dropped open. Charlotte started to say, “The fu-”

Then there was another loud thump. A moment later Homulilly came down as well. She hit the ground in a parkour roll, bounded to her feet, and rushed off after Gretchen.

The three women at the table stared after them. Then they all turned to look at each other.

Less than a second later they were leaping into action. “Charlotte, you’re the fastest, you go after them!” Candeloro shouted.

“Got it!” Charlotte bolted for the door.

“Grab your phone, grab your phone!”

Charlotte braked hard on her heel, hopped herself the other way on one foot, rushed over to where her phone was lying on the living room table, and then rushed out the door.

“Ophelia, you’re backup! Take your phone too, try to keep them in sight, and keep me informed!”

Ophelia was already moving. “What about you?”

Candeloro was already at the kitchen phone and dialing numbers. “Calling for help! If that’s what I think it is, we’re going to need all the backup we can get!”

…

They found her at the edge of the cliffs, staring down at the sea.

The storm was now in full force, the sky above almost completely blacked out, while sheets of rain were nearly coming in sideways with how hard the wind was blowing them. Below, the waves of the sea were crashing loudly against the stone walls, angrily trying to tear them down. Every now and then lightning would strike, briefly lighting up the sky.

And Hitomi was just standing there, umbrella spread over her head, mere centimeters away from the drop. If the wind had been blowing out to the sea instead of from it, she would have been thrown right in.

“Hitomi!” Gretchen screamed. “Wait! Don’t!” She scurried to a stop, the points of her legs digging into the mud to arrest her momentum. Behind her, Homulilly burst from the trees and stumbled to a stop next to her, panting heavily.

Hitomi slowly turned to face them. The look on her face was terrifying. She was smiling, but there was no happiness in it at all. Her large, emerald eyes were tired and empty.

“You shouldn’t have followed me,” she said, the smile remaining fixed. “But I understand why you did. I suppose I shouldn’t have shown myself, but I wanted to see you one last time. To say I was sorry.”

“What?” Gretchen said. “Hitomi, wait. Look, j-just step away from the-”

“I went to see Sayaka,” Hitomi went on, as if Gretchen hadn’t spoken. “I wanted to talk to her, like I talked to you. I wanted to apologize to her for breaking her heart. She was working, over in that big ship. I saw her talking to her girlfriend on the phone. And when I was listening, I realized something.” She shook her head and giggled. “Sayaka is happy now. She’s happy being Oktavia. She’s happy having forgotten…forgotten her name, forgotten Kyousuke, and forgotten me.”

Homulilly’s teeth were chattering, though whether it was from the cold or from fear she couldn’t really tell. “And th-that’s great, but could you please-”

“And if I had talked to her, if I tried to make her remember, that would just make her…unhappy. Like I’ve made you two unhappy.”

“You haven’t!” Gretchen cried. Homulilly shot her a look, but didn’t contradict her. “You haven’t, Hitomi! None of this was your fault!”

“I’ve made everyone unhappy,” Hitomi said. “Not just my friends, but the friends of my friends. It’s like what you said earlier, Homulilly. You were doing just fine until I showed up.” She looked up at the green canopy of her umbrella. “It really would have been better had I become a witch as well. Maybe then I would also be happy. Maybe the world would have been happier without Hitomi Shizuki.”

“Okay, I said a lot of things,” Homulilly said. “That’s true. But believe me, standing on the edge of a cliff during a hurricane is not the place-”

“Oh well. I guess I can only do the next best thing.” Hitomi released her umbrella. It was whipped up by the wind and sent sailing over the treetops. “I mean, I’ve already died once. It has to be easier the second time.”

“Hitomi, don’t!” Gretchen begged. “You can’t.”

Hitomi spread her arms out to her sides. “I’m really sorry. Gretchen. But it is better this way.”

“No, she meant it literally, you idiot!” Homulilly snapped. “It doesn’t work that way! You can’t-”

Hitomi let herself fall backward and disappear.

…

Well, that was quite the journey. Wasn’t this story slice-of-life at one point?

Then again, if you’re a dead lesbian monstergirl with superpowers living in a magic city with aliens, you have to expect your drama to get…weird.

Until next time, everyone.

[grenith-the-skald]

Asmodeus the loveless

Asmodeus was never loved by anyone. Born with the name of a demon prince, the boy had been cursed from his earliest memories. A cruel joke played by a spiteful mother who had wished he had never been born. A sentiment he came to share over a lifetime of whispers behind his back and social exclusion from his community.

But Asmodeus was never one to hate others. Instead, he hated himself. Spending many long hours staring in disgust at his reflection, cursing his very existence for causing people to hate him, and imagining each night as he lay awake in bed how his death would unburden those around him. Convincing himself over the years that he himself must be the problem. That something he had done through simply existing in this world was enough to deserve every bit of cruelty he received.

By the time he had become a man fully grown, Asmodeus was alone. His mother dying from an illness the last winter season. Leaving him to dwell alone within the small house he had always called home. His only inheritance being a handful of coins, some old linens, and what few items his mother hadn't willed away to the local abbey on her deathbed. The old woman having been determined to leave her son with absolutely nothing but the roof over his head.

Yet Asmodeus still loved the woman he had called mother. She had shown him nothing but cruelty his entire life, the only kind of affection that he knew. So even when the local priests had refused him attendance to her funeral, Asmodeus still prayed for her soul from afar as he watched the service beyond the cemetery gates.

Some rare individuals felt pity for the cursed man. Often leaving scraps of bread on his doorstep, an old blanket to keep warm, or even once some rope to end his life with. A kindness that Asmodeus treasured and intended to return someday, even though he wasn't sure how. Because what would a creature who had never known kindness do to spread it himself?

It was a thought that he often dwelled on. Constantly asking himself how someone so unloved as himself could ever repay such small kindnesses. A mystery that always eluded Asmodeus since he was a young child. Memories of being chased off by other children hurling stones when he asked to play, or of the time his mother split his lip open for daring to selfishly ask to see the travelling performers in town, all stood out as reminders that he wasn't very good at making others happy.

So when news began to spread around town that several kids had gone missing within the nearby woods, Asmodeus was one of the first to volunteer to search for them. An offer that was scoffed at by several people, while others eagerly encouraged him in the hopes he might also disappear. But Asmodeus was convinced that this was his chance to make people happy. That by arming himself with nothing more than a kitchen knife and some scraps of food tied in an old bedsheet he could venture out into the woods and find the missing children.

A misguided attempt that would nearly cost him his life. The poor fool stumbling half-blind through dense brush and across treefall that he had no idea of how to navigate. His only sense of direction being that he must keep heading in one direction and never turn back. Asmodeus only knowing that the woods were considered dangerous the deeper one pressed into them and that even someone as cruel as his mother had been hesitant to consider abandoning him to the forest.

But onwards he went. Trudging, stumbling, tripping, falling, crawling, and eventually sitting alone in the muddy clearing between some trees. He spent nearly an entire day from morning through evening searching. The sky grew dark and the air became still and silent. An eerie kind of atmosphere that might have been best handled by some company around a campfire to keep the shadows at bay. However Asmodeus did not know how to start a fire, nor did he have any companions to keep him company. So he did the sensible thing and curled into a huddled ball to sleep for the night, using his bedsheet full of food as a makeshift pillow.

He awoke the next morning cold, hungry, and covered in many small cuts and bruises from bumbling through the woods the day prior. A quick breakfast of stale bread and some dried cheese was enough to fill his empty belly before Asmodeus continued his journey. Walking many more hours; losing track of the time he had spent fruitlessly searching. Until eventually sometime around midday, he heard noise rustling in the distance.

Stopping dead in his tracks, Asmodeus listened for a minute. He could hear something roughly pushing past trees in the distance. Their leaves shaking loudly like rain cascading down on a rooftop; sound that even someone like Asmodeus could tell meant that something large was passing through the area. This could also mean that he might have found the creature that had taken the children. His one chance to make people love him was near.

So with little thought beyond his narrow-minded goal, Asmodeus drew his knife from his belt and carefully approached the sound. Taking care to watch his step and make as little noise of his own. Walking for several minutes as he tried to focus on restraining even his own breathing, for fear of giving himself away. Only to find suddenly find himself freezing when he soon realized that he could no longer hear the loud rustling anymore.

Stopping in the middle of the woods, he slowly scanned his surroundings. The knife suddenly slipping from his hand as something suddenly crashed into his body with a violent impact. Asmodeus was sent head over heels and the world around him began spinning at a alarming rate. He hadn't seen the creature come from behind, but he sure felt it. His vision coming back into focus as he found purchase on a nearby fallen tree with his hands. Getting himself propped back up onto his feet in time to see the large beast preparing to charge him again.

It was a creature Asmodeus had never seen before, let-alone ever heard of. It looked like some kind of oversized bear with the yellowed skull of a deer in place of a head, it's body covered in thick moss, and rotting chunks of sagging flesh drooping off of itself from places it appeared to have been sliced open. A horrible sight that Asmodeus would've been curious to examine further, if not for the fact the monster had just lowered it's large jagged antlers and was starting to lumber forwards into a run.

A action that sent warning signs flaring up Asmodeus' spine as he instinctively flung himself aside just in time to avoid being trampled, or worse, by the massive figure that proceeded to bulldoze through the trees that had moments ago been standing behind him. The natural instinct to flee overtook Asmodeus. His legs working as if on their own as he raised up his arms to shield his face from the numerous low branches he began hitting while he fled, making no effort to watch his step or caring about the direction he headed. All he knew was that the monster was somewhere behind him, the sound of splintering trees and thudding footfalls following close behind.

Blood and sweat were welling in the corners of his eyes, a mixture of fear and injuries starting to slowly wear him down. A combination that eventually caused Asmodeus to collapse as he staggered his way across a narrow streambed. His body aching from what seemed like hours of running, the adrenaline once pumping through his veins now wearing off. He was sure that he was dead now, the creature would be on him any moment. So he rolled himself onto his back and desperately clung to the first small fist-sized rock he could grab within reach, as if he could somehow fight off the beast with it.

But nothing came. Minutes passed by in silence before Asmodeus realized he was alone. His weary and exhausted body battered and worn for worse. Yet he was alive. In rough shape, but at least alive. Whatever the terrifying creature was, it seemed to have lost his trail for the time being. A half-hearted victory in a sense, but it at least meant Asmodeus could catch his breath and recuperate for the moment.

The brief respite of rest would instead turn into several hours as true weariness overtook him. Laying in a position that would lead anyone who saw to mistake him as a corpse, but Asmodeus was too sore to find any strength to get back up. He was done. His whole life had been a series of shitty events all tied together with a ribbon of self-doubt, and this was just the little flourish his sad story needed to find it's ending. He would die here, he was sure. All he had to do was close his eyes and await the monster to come and find him. Maybe it would be over quickly. Maybe dying wasn't such a big deal anyways, who knew for sure? Asmodeus certainly hadn't tried it yet.

It would just take some shouting and the nightmare of a creature would find him. Just a little call and it could be all over. He'd never need to worry about anything ever again. There would be no more cruelty, no more sadness, no more Asmodeus to mess everything up. It was a comforting thought, to just let go and give up.

At least it was a comforting thought for a while, until something sparked deep down inside of him. Something buried so deeply that he had never known it was there. It was the flames of anger. Anger he had never felt before. A lifetime of pent up emotion boiling to the surface.

Why did he have to die alone in these woods? He had been one of the first to volunteer to find those kids, and yet the bastards hadn't even so much as thanked him. His mother had been a heartless bitch and most of the town was no better than her. Everyone in his life had treated Asmodeus like trash and all he had ever wanted was to be loved by someone...anyone. Now laying here alone on the cold ground he was going to die to some fucked up ugly rejection of nature? No dammit! He refused to simply end it all this way.

Slowly with aching limbs and a stomach ready to expel it's contents onto the ground at any nauseated moment, Asmodeus forced his body to get up off the ground while he clenched his small river-rock tightly in one fist. He was pissed-off and determined to kill that creature. He would smash its head in or tear it apart bare handed, whatever it took. The furious rage consuming his thoughts so intensely that he didn't even notice the horns now starting to protrude from his forehead.

[vegandoughnut]

PART 5: Are You Kitting Me?

"You're good to go, Anekke" says Stephen, scribbling on his clipboard as if he were actually using it for something. Anekke frowns.

"I can't just finish the hour?" She presses, nearly pouting.

"Fine but make sure you clock out on the dot. I just don't have the patience this evening" Stephen says, voice laden with an exhaustion that doesn't even make sense. Anekke continues to spray some of the food prep surfaces with the natural mint scented surface cleaner and wipes with the cleaning rag.

Humbert hums in a whiny pitch as he adds the finishing touches to another serving of the Fall Special. Black anise waffles, vibrant orange pumpkin ice cream, chocolate chips and raisins, cat face drawn with chocolate or molasses. The ingredients seem to have plastered themselves all over Anekke's brain. She mutters them to herself as she cleans.

"What's that?" Comes Humbert's voice.

She ignores him, almost laughing with relief when Kitt joins them behind the counter. Kitt looks tired, with dark circles forming under her eyes. She flashes a smile to counter it.

"You need a coffee" Anekke says.

"You've never been more right" Kitt replies, picking up the staff french press off the ceramic hot plate, and pouring herself a mug of aromatic medium roast. "I have like five minutes to snag Gary Nygard's autograph but I just can't bring myself to. This is a once in a lifetime thing. Like. He's going back to Finland at some point. The band doesn't even tour anymore. Today literally feels like a weird dream and I don't know how to move. Like I'm walking through invisible cake batter or something"

"This is not a therapy session. You have a customer Kittie" says Humbert. Kitt sucks her teeth before turning to face the rest of the cafe to take a customer's order.

"You know we already have a supervisor and a manager right?" Anekke says through clenched teeth. Even if Humbert had said it to Kumlyun instead of Kitt, she would still jump in on the defense. She was getting tired of Humbert's antics, and was glad she'd be going home soon.

Humbert grunts and gets back to putting together a catering box.

"Wow" says Anekke, shaking her head.

A customer walks up to the bar holding Salem, the chill black cat purred softly in his arms. He orders an oat milk vanilla shake. She let's Kitt take that order, then goes back to cleaning, annoyed that earlier Kumlyun had implied the mess was made by her, when really it was probably Harper who was often sloppy with the food prep and forgetful of cleaning up. But at least she made Kumlyun look bad by implying she came in on her day off on purpose.

Finally some serenity blankets the cafe when all the customers are seated and eating, drinking or petting or feeding the cats they were paired with. Anekke quickly checks her pocket planner and crosses off a few things she remembered to do.

Memorize the recipe for the blueberry muffins by heart. Check. Disinfect the sink. Check. Renew library checkouts online. Check. Schedule a dentist appointment for next week. Check. Organize the discarded customer cards into her little file folder. Check.

"Anekke"

Anekke nearly jumps out of her skin when Kitt places a hand on her shoulder from behind.

"You scared me Kitt" she says, stealthily shrugging out from under her hand.

"I seem to do that for a lot of people" she says with a frown. "Anyway, what time are you leaving? so I know when to mentally prepare for the next few grueling hours behind this counter"

"Honestly just 30 minutes to go" says Anekke, taking a sneaky bite of the energy bar she hid in her half apron.

"Okay. Thanks" says Kitt.

Carl turns to look at the counter and smiles warmly when he coincidentally catches Anekke's eye. She smiles back quickly but goes back to her resting face just as soon.

"Hey Carl, want to cover for me real quick?" Kitt calls from the bar, undoing her waist apron.

Carl walks over immediately, and almost trips over a feathered pet toy but regains his balance without much embarrassment. Anekke watches intently. Still nervous, that one.

"You'll be working with the pretty blond, she should have no problem drawing in lots of orders so you can take a few pointers" says Kitt to Carl. Anekke's head spins upon hearing the strange sentence, and she wonders what Kitt was really saying. She had to force herself not to spiral into the whirlpool forming inside of her. What does she mean? What does that mean? Is it face value? Is there a joke or jab hidden in the arrangement of the words? Why does Kumlyun complain so much? Does Kumlyun whisper lies about Anekke to Kitt? Is Kitt trustworthy? Is Kitt priming Carl against her? She said "pretty blond". Maybe she should go to HR about Kitt. That'll make things make sense.

Carl and Kitt switch places. Carl ties a waist apron on and picks up a few beechwood mixing spoons. Why?

"Break a leg" Anekke tells Kitt who walks carefully towards Gary Nygard. Kitt flashes a confident cheese smile before heading straight for the Special Guest, the charming gothic rock star who had been in the cafe since before noon.

Anekke had thought he'd looked familiar, then realized he was a member of a band that had been really popular back when she was in high school. Yuck, she thinks, picturing those cringey teenage years in her mind with distaste. It was hard to imagine Kitt was one of the spooky kids who were obsessed with vampires and fingerless gloves, but who would've imagined that "pretty blond" Anekke was a nerd with no friends? The one who, even if she tried to make a joke, it came off as awkward or distasteful? Why were these things bothering her so suddenly?

20 minutes pass. Two customers came. Carl had watched eagerly when Anekke operated the waffle maker which she hated completely. The waffles would sometimes have holes in the outer pockets around the edges if the batter didn't spread perfectly. That's why she hated it.

"See you guys on Thursday" Anekke says, gathering her khaki trench coat, personal mug and backpack. It was without really looking at anyone in particular.

A few co-workers say bye in friendly voices. Why so friendly? Do they think she's stupid? Childish?

Then Carl says, "thanks for the tip about the waffle maker. I'm sure people prefer a perfect waffle over the skeleton of one" he says with a warm smile, trying to make her laugh probably. Anekke nods then goes out the door, relieved beyond words.

Kitt pulls her fingers through her dreads, which were the color of fallen leaves--- the characteristic Autumn hue between plum and red. She felt just slightly embarrassed to meet one of her teenage rock idols looking like a millennial-barista-spoken-word-slam-night-attendee-who-keeps-a-million-potted -succulents-around-their-house person, but so it goes. Some of teen-life's craziest caterpillars emerged from their cocoons as less stand-outy butterflies.

But there he was. Gary Nygard looking exactly the same, though less dressy, as she remembered during the heyday of Finnish metal's popularity in her generation. Jetty curtains of hair. The cozy cat skull sweatshirt over the pants with the boots. Gosh his legs were so perfectly thin. Kitt shakes her head.

"Darling" Nygard's voice steals Kitt's attention as he strokes just under the fuzzy siamese cat Sandra's chin. He is smiling slightly. "Is all well?" he says nodding towards her, like he could sense her trepidation, "this is a lovely place, beautiful really. Tell your boss, see, to keep doing whatever he or she is doing to keep it going. The cats are so dear, and you, all of you, have been lovely hosts"

He's so sweet and down to earth and candid and Scandinavian and beautiful and what inspired that song.... and will the band ever get back together and what does he do now that the band is... omg stop brain, stop it.... Kitt thinks.

"How long has the place been running for? It seems like a very hip sort of thing, an import, from Japan maybe... lovely country, Japan. They're very nice there" he continues as Sandra squirms and scratches at his sweater. But Gary Nygard is on to the silly cat, trying to distract her by scratching behind her ears while her head is turned in the opposite directions.

Kitt's mouth opens and closes. She blinks a mile a minute yet there's no wind in her face.

"Just a few years" Kitt responds, finding her composure again and holding onto it for dear life. "Yeah cat cafes, well, themed cafes in general, seem to be way more popular over there. This is kind of a knock---"

"A knock-off, but very nice" he finishes for her with a chuckle. He scratches his head then throws back the last of his green smoothie, Sandra sitting snugly nuzzled into his side on the velvet highback chair. Kitt watches the bob of his Adam's apple as he swallows the drink, the pale white of his throat exposed and blinding.

Suddenly she forgets that she can language, and just clasps and un-clasps her hands.

"It was lovely. Truly" he says, getting up from the chair. All 5'10 of him. Sandra scampers off across the cafe to bother some of the other kitties. "Kittie? Was that your name? Good girl" he mutters, pulling on his faux fur jacket. Kitt stands there dumbly.

She is frozen as he crosses the room towards the front door. She pretends to go fix tables near there then discreetly says, "wait. Sorry just a minute"

He stops and turns to face her, pulling a dark grey beanie over his hair and looking more and more like a mysterious pedestrian, becoming less and less real at the same despite. He was crossing the threshold of Kitt's world, reality, back into the far away world of teen angst nostalgia and dreams come true and old fires doused.

"I was a big fan when I was high school..." she says, quietly, softly, only he could hear.

He grins. A warm and genuine smile that touches his eyes that turn up slightly at the outer corners, like a cat's. He hands her his VIP customer lanyard and tag with his name and personality notes on there in his real life, almost-neat handwriting. The one thing customers usually toss.

"Thank you for today, Kittie" he says, with a brief, too light pat on her shoulder.

Then he's out the door.

Just like that.

A dream.

[jflashandclash]

Traitors of Olympus IV: The Fall of the Sun

Twenty-One: Sadie

 I Go to Press Big Red Button

             For looking as unimposing as Leo did, the bloke was due more credit than I’d originally given him. He threw me over his shoulder and bolted towards Mount Camel Dung faster than a shabti would try to kill its master if it had all its appendages. Maybe those demigod genes gave him a natural, muscular edge. Maybe it was lugging all the metal to build homicidal, giant lizards.

           Either way, I owed the son of Hephaestus an apology for assuming he wasn’t as strong as his friends.

           Lightning exploded behind us. Harsh gusts of wind tore pieces of the iron fence down and threw sand into the air. The path forward was rapidly becoming a cross between a battlefield of inanimate objects and an obstacle course. Sunlight dimmed as clouds quickly spiraled into a net across the sky.

           Set’s gleeful laughter boomed through the cyclone of stuff.

           The rock formation was further away than it originally appeared. That was the problem with deserts: a lack of kilometer posts.

           At the first batch of red rocks jutting out of the ground, Leo took cover. He dropped me rather ungracefully on the sand.

           “Hey!” I protested, shouting over the wind.

           “Sorry, Lady Sadie,” he said. He lifted up one finger and a burst of flames hissed out like a mini blowtorch. “We’re keeping up the tradition of ungraceful landings.”

           If he was about to do what I thought he was about to do, I was about to tell him to shove that finger somewhere not very nice. Sure enough, he tilted that mini-blowtorch toward my bindings.

           “Are you mad?!” I demanded, not quite in the mood to be set ablaze.

           I’m sure there was some irony in my asking that question, as I rather enjoyed doing mad things, but all I could think about was coming out as a toasted Sadie marshmallow.

           “Trust me, I’m an expert in pyromania,” he said, giving me that crazy elf grin. “Now, inhale deep and exhale when I tell you. The Flaming Valdez is gonna set you free.”

           As he had me inhale, then exhale, he squirmed his other hand between the bindings and my skin, so he could use his own hand as a heat shield for my skin. I couldn’t help but feel like he looked nervous. Normally, it took a bit of magical work to undo a binding spell. I remembered the time my wand turned into a Celestial bronze dagger when Annabeth touched it and wondered if Leo’s magical flames acted like the Egyptian words of power for Bollix Your Binding Spell.

           Once he freed my hands, I withdrew my wand to help dispel the rest of the binding.

           In the last moment, the weather went from partially overcast to pitch black.

           My skin shivered. The temperature dropped at least five degrees Celsius.

           You know how you’re not supposed to look directly at the sun? Both Leo and I abandoned that notion to glance up.

           There was no dispersed glow behind the clouds or circular silhouette off in the distance. It was like Apophis had swallowed the sun all over again.

           “Is that a normal power of your Superman?” I asked, feeling a bit queasy.

           “Uh, no. I’m going to put that solidly in the list of NOT-Jason powers,” Leo said comfortingly.

           We peered over the rocks to see how Jason was doing against Set. Probably a good idea before leaving him on his own to fight a god. I knew we had to find Hemera and we were wasting valuable moments, but my mind kept flashing to how far he’d flown when Set first blasted him.

           All we could see was darkness at first. Leo kept a tiny flame alight in his palm so we could dodge debris caught up in the wind. Some tourist must have discarded an empty can of suntan lotion in the desert; the now-projectile almost took Leo’s head off.

           Off in the distance, there was the soft glow of a city—Phoenix.  

           Closer, lightning gave eerie bursts of illumination to the massive dust storm outside of Governor Hunt’s tomb. Each red streak would make the fog look like a dispersing firework before dimming back to the roaring nothingness.

           In the last burst, we could see the outline of a muscular boy on flying horseback. The horse itself seemed to spark and flare with static. The rest of the horse blended into the mass of debris. Jason must have found his gladius—more sparks exploded outward as the golden blade parried a strike from a flaming battle axe that spun around him. The red sand of the desert swirled higher and higher, as though reaching to drag the stallion down. A mass of it—Set’s avatar I presumed—loomed in front of the Roman horseman, cackling with thunder and laughter.

           Jason looked like he was fighting the desert itself.

           “Em, is he going to be alright?” I asked, withdrawing my wand. I had fought Set on more than one occasion and Lapis seemed quite the powerful host for the god.

           “Yea, this is a normal party for our Golden Boy.” Despite his confidence, Leo looked worried. “What I wouldn’t give for a bulldozer or a wrecking ball though. Can you magic those out of your little Do-a locker?”

           I could envision Leo singing that old Miley Cyrus song, “I came in like a wrecking ball,” while actually riding atop a wrecking ball. I’m not sure how it would help us, but the thought was quite entertaining.

           I was about to inform Leo that I didn’t store demolition equipment in my locker, other than some fireworks that Carter doesn’t need to know about, when I saw a blue burst of light from up Camel Dung Mountain.

           My brilliant reflexes saved us. “Drowah!” I shouted into the wind. The hieroglyph for boundary shimmered into a wall of golden light behind us. The blue wave slammed into it before dissipating.

           For that instance, I could see the silhouette of a man in linen robes with a staff and a small shack behind him.

           “Hemera’s shack!” I cried.

           “Hey! No fair—Set can’t add another creepy dude to the mix,” Leo said.

           The image of the shack and man shimmered under some kind of cover.

           “Creepy magician with powers,” Leo corrected.

           Another flare of blue light shot toward us.

           This time, Leo deflected it with a small blast of fire. We dived to the next closest rock, realizing we couldn’t take shelter from both he and Set at the same time. We needed to get up there.

           “He has the higher ground,” I said. “Can you lob a fireball up there?” I didn’t want to kill the other magician; I didn’t know what Nome he was from, if he was possessed by an evil god, or if Set had threatened him with cheese magic, something that inspires great terror in the Egyptian world. Still, I figured a ball of flames would keep him occupied.

           “I might burn the shack. I doubt it would kill Hemera, but we’d have one pissed off goddess on our hands. I guess you can’t toss over some Egyptian voodoo, Lady Sadie?”

           I deflected another wave of blue. I could fly up as a kite, the bird, not the children’s toy, but I would be a sitting duck—well, kite—for any attacks. “I was hoping for a bit more of a distraction so we could make it up the Mount Dung without being under fire.”

           Leo reached into his tool belt. His eyes blazed like those of a maniac, and I couldn’t help but think that I could get used to seeing that expression of pure madness. “Oh, I’ve got an idea that will leave you spinning.”

           A minute later and Leo fashioned a tiny fleet of rubber band-and-paperclip helicopters to drop nails, tacks, balloons filled with motor oil, miniature failed-shabtis, and anything else we could quickly rig from my Duat locker and Leo’s tool belt.  I gave them some honing magic. [Leo later said we’d have to call Coach Gleeson to eat up the mess. I have a different respect for Camp Half-Blood, knowing one of their counselors is loony enough to eat metal.]

           Despite the heavy wind, his tiny contraptions flew brilliantly.

           Our cue to run up Camel Dung Mountain came about ten seconds later, when the enemy magician started screaming.

           The bursts of light and tremble of thunder continued at the base of the rock formation as we climbed. I hoped this Jason fellow was as accomplished as Leo claimed he was. I hadn’t heard Set gleefully giggling about ripping someone’s limbs off or turning Jason’s skeleton into a puppet, so that was a good sign.

           Climbing the mountain wasn’t easy. All we had was my wand and Leo’s flame for light, and the rock formation didn’t seem to like being compared to a camel toilet, as it kept trying to trip us, though from Set’s magic or our clumsiness, I wasn’t certain.

           Once we got close to the top, I shouted, “Sun-ah!”

           The hieroglyph for reveal appeared in the sky, and the shack and magician came back into view.

           “Wow,” Leo said.

           I seconded the notion.

           Leo’s fleet had worked marvelously.

           Two tiny helicopters still sputtered in the air. One dive-bombed the magician, dropping a wad of chewed gum into his eyes. [And Carter says I need to keep my locker cleaner. Imagine if I hadn’t.]

           As the magician was blinded, he shouted a spell to explode the other airborne helicopter. This released Tabasco sauce shrapnel everywhere, something Leo claimed was vital for any dragon workshop.

           The magician had just withdrawn the gum from his eyes when the spicy condiment struck his face.

           He screamed again. I almost felt bad for him.

           Now that we were up close and I had dissolved his invisibility spell, I could see he was roughly in his thirties. (As far as magicians go, that means nothing. The bloke could be 564 for all I cared or knew.) He was tall, with a traditional forked beard, and caramel skin. His white linen robes were edged with blue.

           This magician must have been a bit confused about the colors of Ma’at and chaos.

           One of my failed shabti creations had landed on his shoulder. It was a blobby humanoid shape without legs, something I imagined would crawl up from under my bed one night to take revenge for its creepy existence. It kept bludgeoning the magician with its deformed, flobby arms, shrieking, “die, bipedal swine!”

           As the poor magician frantically conjured milk to wash out his eyes and blast the shabti off his shoulder, something about him seemed familiar. I hoped this wasn’t someone else’s displaced, distant son or nephew of someone Carter and I had once fought.

           Either way, he had to go. He was standing between us and the ten by ten, rickety shack that shuddered violently in Jason and Set’s storm. Quite charming as godly penthouses go.

           “Sadie Kane!” the magician roared.

           Not sure how he detected us, but Leo and I exchanged a glance to claim KO rights. I won, of course.

           “My name is Mel!” the man said.

           “There’s a magician named Mel?” Leo asked, sounding amused.

           Mel continued, ignoring the mockery. “I’m from the First Nome and guarded it for centuries before the Kanes caused the death of Chief Lector Iskandar and Desjardins, put a minion of Set as the new Chief Lector, and turned Zia Rashid traitor. You escaped me once, but this time—“

           “That’s lovely and all. Goodbye, now,” I said.

           I blasted him with a spray of green light. He was so disgruntled, having been both sprayed with Tabasco sauce and milk, he didn’t have the awareness to counter.

           I envisioned Mel as something much more containable: a tiny, green lizard. Within seconds, I had asserted my will over him. The magician shrank in size until he was a cute, confused-looking gecko that slithered out from the linen robes.

           “Dude!” Leo said. Within seconds, he’d created a cage from scattered paperclips and quick finger-welding. He snatched up our transformed friend. He leveled the cage with the trapped lizard to his eyes. “I know you’re saying, ‘I-guana go now,” he said to the trapped lizard. “But we can’t have you escaping. Hey, Lady Sadie, what was that stuff he was talking about?”

           Leo attached the tiny cage to his tool belt and stepped towards the shack.

           We’d have to clear up all those lies later. I was still rather upset about the deaths of the previous Chief Lectors, especially since Iskandar had been nothing but kind to me and Desjardins died to save Carter and me. What he was referencing were lies that Sarah Jacobi had spread to make my family look like rubbish. It was amazing how much damage someone could cause after death, though, after stopping a poorly-dressed ghost from taking over the cosmos, I shouldn’t have been surprised.  

           “Oh, just some gossip our enemies spread to make us look like Big Bad Guys. You know how it goes.”

           Leo nodded sympathetically. “I was possessed by an eidolon once and it made me attack our friends’ camp with a warship. One ballista fire led to another, and then all the Romans are saying Greeks stink. So, uh, yea. I know a thing or two about bad press.”

           Although it sounded like that had happened awhile ago, Leo’s smile lost its brilliance.

           “We should have a chat about that over some ice cream,” I suggested, knowing some solid camaraderie over possession might lift his spirits. My Uncle Amos was an expert in such matters.

           Leo stopped walking towards the shack. He glanced over his shoulder in confusion and disbelief, like he thought I had chatted up one of the tumble weeds, which—with Set and Jason’s storm—were twirling in the air like startled goldfish.

           “Trapped goddess, “I reminded Leo, “Your friend fighting for our lives so Set doesn’t make us into finger puppets?” I dispelled a booby trap around the shack: sloppy and simple ones with easy-to-find hieroglyphs. Really, they don’t make clever, monomaniacal villains like they used to.

           The poor boy’s cheeks roughened. I do have that effect on people sometimes, though usually it’s because I’ve utterly humiliated them with my verbal wit. Although the scene of chaos around us was terrifying—what with the crashing debris, the flashes of lighting, and the dim glow of fire on Leo’s face from his lit hand—Leo looked quite cute.

           [What, Carter? Yes. I said it. Yes, I know Walt and Anubis can listen to this recording. Give me more credit than that.]

           As he ran to catch up, he said, “Careful. I’ve melted the heart of an Ice Goddess once. I’m dangerous around ice cream.”

           “We’ll have ourselves a double date, shall we? We can invite our godly boyfriend and girlfriend,” I suggested. I was going to say “to keep things from getting too hot,” but caught myself before those horrid words came out of my mouth. I really didn’t mean anything by that.

           I blame my embarrassment for almost doing something incorrigibly stupid.

           Leo and I busted our way into the shack door, which, really, we didn’t need to do. The shack almost fell over when we came through the entrance. Inside, the rattle of the ceiling as it strained against the storm was more alarming than the storm itself. Refer back to “don’t make monomaniacal villains like they used to” and add, “don’t make godly traps like they used to.”

           The wall and ceiling boards looked just as rickety and dilapidated inside as they did out. Talk about horror cinema center. There was a rusty, metal control board, like something out an old radio station, with levers and a giant red button that said Release and a giant green one that said Capture.

           A woman lay in the center of the red sand floor. Her dusty blonde hair rippled dimly, like sunlight filtering through a dirty window. The remains of a tattered sundress clung to her body, the color indiscernible in the glow of Leo’s fire. Heavy chains linked her hands and feet to the floor. Red wires ran from the chains to the control board.

           I’ll admit it: I walked right up to the control board to hit the giant red button.

           Obviously a trap? Highly likely.

           Did I care? I might have been a bit too flustered and distracted. Besides, I’d rather press first and handle consequences later.

           Leo grabbed my wrist before I could make contact. “Woah, Ladie Sadie, seriously? The Big Red Release button set up by two gods of chaos?”

           “What’s your plan instead?” I asked.

           The goddess drearily lifted her head at our voices. This Hemera looked downright knackered and I had the queer feeling Set had already started to picnic on her powers. She was lovely, as most goddesses tended to be. (If you can make yourself look like anything, why look any less than gorgeous, like my stupid boyfriend Anubis.) Her eyes appeared black in the darkness.

           “Who goes there?” she asked weakly and quite delayed.

           “Professional heroes. Saving the day and whatnot,” I said.

           “Just make sure you give us a Five Star Rating on RateMyHero, Madam Daylight,” Leo said. He sounded distracted as he looked over her chains. “Huh,” he said and snapped off a piece of the wire connecting the chains to the control panel.

           “What are you doing?!” I demanded. That, supposedly, was the way to unlock those chains.

           He grinned and popped the wire into his mouth and began to chew.

           Any previous attraction I felt for this demigod zapped away. Had he been switched out with a monster without me noticing? Or were all Greeks secretly this loony? Or was magical wiring secretly delicious?

           “It’s pieces of Twizzlers, the kind you can peel apart,” he said. “These chains aren’t actually hooked up.”

           Leo examined the control panel. He withdrew a screwdriver from his belt. With a few quick flicks of the wrist, he’d removed the front, metal covering to reveal a stack of dynamite underneath the Release button. He pointed to the wires connecting the button to the dynamite. “Those,” he said, “are real wires.”

           I blinked at the dynamite. The sight was so foreign, it almost looked cartoony. Despite being around so many ancient weapons and dangerous spells, it suddenly hit me how rarely I had seen modern-day weapons. We didn’t really do the gun thing in Britain and we didn’t have any modern weapons at Brooklyn House.

           “Ah, explosives,” I finally managed, “Well, that’s not very… magical or demigodly.”

           He withdrew the panel beside it to reveal some kind of net-system under the Capture button, something that looked primed to latch around a mammoth.

           “At least they’re honest about their advertising,” Leo said about the names of the buttons. “Eris doesn’t really seem to play on the normal demigod or magical level.”

           “So, if we’re not going to use the Big Red Button to open the chains, how do we open the chains? I don’t see a keyhole or even a break in the metal,” I asked, running through a list of spell words. Without a seam in the metal, the word “open” wouldn’t do anything. I had a few ideas, but, judging from how sturdy the shack was and the dynamite a few feet away, I feared I might blow us all up. I was good at that.

           “You can’t!” Hemera said. Her voice was weak. I had the distinct feeling she would put the back of her hand to her forehead if she had the strength. “The Spartans made these to trap Ares.” When she tried to lift a hand, the chains shimmered with red Greek writing. “He never found a way out. Sparta had to be destroyed to release him!”

           “Yea, well, I have something Ares didn’t,” Leo said. He tapped the work goggles out of his hair and over his eyes.

           Hemera looked Leo up and down skeptically. “The strength of Hercules?” She sounded hopeful.

           I choked on a laugh. As much as I liked the Latino Elf, he definitely didn’t have that.

           Leo reached into his magical tool belt and withdrew a circular saw with a glittering black blade and what appeared to be a massive battery packet. He grinned, snapping the battery packet into the saw, looking like a crazed serial killer. “Power tools.”

           Ah, the grand words of greatness from Admiral Leo. Some people make speeches about freedom. Some about justice. Leo about garage implements.

           [Carter thinks Leo was mental for thinking power tools could work on magical chains, but has Carter given real thought to magical power tools? Besides, Leo said he’d done this before on a different goddess’ cage. Carter just thinks Leo said that to chat me up.]

           As Leo’s saw whined to life, I fished through my supplies to withdraw a minor healing potion that Jazz, our healer, had made me. I popped off the top and offered it to Hemera, partially because she looked like she’d been through three of my brother’s lectures on the importance of dairy in Egyptian mythology, and partially because it kept her from staring in horror at the maniac demigod sawing so close to her skin.

           She was too weak to reach out. I propped her up in my lap to give her the potion and so Leo wouldn’t accidentally decapitate the poor woman in his power tool mania.

           I wasn’t sure how a magician’s potion would heal a goddess, but she seemed to perk up.

           “So, when we’re done releasing you,” I shouted over the whine of the saw and the scream when it touched the metal, “You can god your way over to Nyx and sort this kidnapping nonsense out? And maybe tell your godly mates to help Camp Half-Blood?”

           One of the shackles fell away from Hemera’s wrist. Apparently Ares’ chains were no match for the Valdezinator. Take that as a point towards brains over brawn.

           Hemera’s skin seemed to glow a bit brighter, though her head stayed lolled off to one side. She mouthed something, but her voice was too weak to be heard over the sawing.

           When the second chain fell and Leo went to shove his saw back into his tool belt, I could hear her say, “I can’t, young heroine. I don’t have the energy. Set has been feeding off me for too long. Alas, since I am no longer worshipped, I can’t recover my powers in a timely manner.”

           The last part sounded more like an apology for bollixing a dinner party invitation. I thought about the gods that I had seen at Sunny Acres Assisted Living Community, how their memories would fade with the memories of their worshipers, falling into senility as they were forgotten. I envisioned this pretty goddess in a smock with a walker and I felt a bit nauseous. Watching something immortal dying is nasty business.

           “Let’s get you out of here,” I suggested. I could give her a pep-talk later.

           For now, I slipped one hand under her arm to pull her up. Leo got her other side so we could drag her out of the shack. Not the most efficient way, having two tiny godlings lugging a goddess around, but we managed.

           Just in time too.

           As we exited the sad excuse for a building, a boy-and-horse-wrecking-ball catapulted into the roof of the shack. Instead of stopping there, like a good ball of destruction, it continued through, taking the roof and walls with it. The dynamite-rigged control box and chains were shockingly still intact, sitting out in the open as the rest of the building smashed into the side of Camel Dung Mountain. It exploded up in a poof of dust that got swept away by the storm. Hopefully that puff didn’t also contain scattered Jason particles.

           Dark laughter echoed around the desert.

           The flashes of lightning grew closer, brighter. A massive vortex of sand rose to our level on the mountain, making it look like the mountain itself was crumbling into the sandy floor. Because the light from Leo’s fire only extended a few meters, the storm look like it had encompassed the world.

           “Oh, that was fun, Pretty Boy!” Lapis and Set’s voices combined into one. They twirled the flaming battle axe in an arc around the dust storm. “Tossing you is almost as much fun as tossing Tuft-Ears!”

           Jason groaned out an answer. His horse had dissolved into a burst of lightning and was sparking back into horse shape further up the mountain. It didn’t look excited to be tossed again.

           Jason drearily dragged himself from the wreckage. He was bleeding from his mouth. His shirt sleeve and half his shirt had been burned away, and—in the dim lighting—it looked like the skin under had some nasty blisters. As he fished his gladius out of the debris, his left arm dangled uselessly behind him.

           Tenacious bloke, that one.

           Set’s host didn’t look like he was going to win a beauty pageant anytime soon either. Lapis’s eye was puffy from being hit. Blood soaked his right pant leg. His face had grown ashen and, despite the laugh, he grimaced in pain. Sand stuck to his face with the beaded sweat.

           This reminded me of when Uncle Amos tried to control Set: Lapis was struggling.

           “I’m ready to kill you now, if you don’t mind,” Set said, seeming not to notice his host’s pain.

           Last time I fought Set, I opened a portal to transport us out of the desert and plop us in Washington, D. C. And I had his secret name. However, last time, he hadn’t made an agreement at the start of the fight.

           I crossed my arms like an irritated mother—something I’d learned scarily well from Isis. “That would be a bit fussy, don’t you think?”

           “Killing you? I count on it!”

           “No, going back on a promise,” I said. “I’d say it’s been five minutes.”

           I had no proof, but clamoring up Mount Camel Dung in the dark felt like an eternity.

           A smirk slid onto Set’s face. “And how would you know, Little Sadie?”

           “We timed it,” Leo said.

           I thought he was reaching into his pocket for a watch and wanted to hug the demigod for his forethought. Instead, he withdrew two screws, a silver disk, a chain, some wires, and a small, flashing light from his tool belt, keeping his hands partially inside so only I could see the components. His fingers flashed overtop and, within seconds, he was presenting Set the most garage-style pocket watch ever invented.

           Fortunately, Set was not the god of super vision.

           Leo pointed to the blinking light. “See Ol’ Blinky here? It means the timer went off.”

           I wanted to hug Leo for a trait I valued much more than forethought: quick-thinking.

           “A deal is a deal,” I said.

           Set pouted. “Oh, come now, Sadie. At least let me rend the flesh from one of their bodies.”

           “Nope!” I put one finger up and waved it back and forth. “No flesh rending. Bad Set. Taking us back to our friends? Good Set.”

           He bellowed a laugh. “Assuming your friends are alive. Now, why do you think I picked five minutes?”

           The fire on his Egyptian axe poofed out. The dust storm started to die, lowering him several inches closer. Now that I was able to hear a little better, I could tell Lapis was panting.

           “You wanted enough time for a commercial break?” Leo guessed.

           “Because that’s exactly the amount of time it would take me to burn through Lapis’ life force if I didn’t give her enough extra power,” Set grinned. “Good luck getting to your friends in time.”

           Then his face went slack and his eyes closed.

           The dust storm collapsed.

           Lapis, and our chances of a quick ride out of here, fell out of the sky and plummeted to the bottom of Mount Camel Dung, unconscious.

Sorry for the missed chapters, guys. Admittedly, I’m trying to figure out the end of the series right now and none of my characters (or my own writing) is cooperating, so I lost some steam to get chapters out.

Regardless, i hope you enjoyed!!! I will try to be back to our normal output next week!

(As a quick hint-hint, one of the reasons I’m struggling with the end is because of a new project I started that i think you’ll all really enjoy! :D)

[180abroad]

Days 147-148: The Night Train to Prague

I'd never been on a night train before, and it was one of the little things I wanted to experience at some point during our trip. The trip from Krakow to Prague takes about eight hours by train--one of the longest train journeys of our entire trip--so it seemed like the perfect candidate.

I'm glad to experience an overnight train once on our trip, but I'm also glad that it was only once.

Just getting the tickets had been a chore. Renting a cabin on an overnight train is more complicated that just getting a regular ticket, and we couldn't book directly through the rail company. We could have waited to buy the tickets at the station when we first arrived in Krakow, but we didn't want to take that risk if we could avoid it. There are a limited number of cabins, and if they sold out before we got there, we'd be out of luck. Plus, the tickets would be a lot cheaper if we bought them a few weeks in advance.

We ended up buying the tickets through a Polish travel agency while we were in Britain and having the tickets physically mailed to our B&B in Inverness.  There was a pretty steep mark-up, but we still got them for less than what it would have cost to buy them at Krakow station.

After picking our bags up from our Krakow host, we took an Uber over to the train station and hunkered down in a café. It would be about a four-hour wait before our train arrived. Probably. The station's timetables were all on printed posters, and these days it's hard to trust that anything printed is still up to date. I got up every half-hour or so stretch my legs and check the arrivals and departures board.

We made good use of the time, though, and we managed to plan out all the trains we wanted to book for the rest of the trip.

Finally, it was time to head up to the platform.

There was a few minutes of uneasy confusion when the train first arrived and the numbers on our tickets didn't match any of the cars. We had a hard time getting a straight answer from the conductors about where to go, but our fears were somewhat allayed when we found a cluster of other travelers with the same issue. Eventually, we pieced it together that they were going to add more cars to the train before leaving, and our car was going to be one of them.

One of the other people in our cluster was a woman from Arizona. When she found out we were from California, she promised not to hold it against us, then jokingly held her index fingers up in a cross like she was trying to ward off evil. And she kept calling us a cute couple even after we had told her several times that we were cousins. When it finally sank in, her response was "Ew, gross!"

Yeah? Maybe she was just tired, too.

The night train proved to be both more and less comfortable than I had anticipated. On the plus side, the sheets and mattresses weren’t too uncomfortable, and the train operator provided bottled water, toiletries, and a continental breakfast with tea. On the downside, the beds were frustratingly narrow, and the cabin uncomfortably hot. Cracking the window helped with the heat, but it also let in a terrific amount of noise. Just when I would start to feel comfortable with the racket, an opposing train would crash by on the adjacent track or our train would jolt with a piercing shriek of the brakes.

I didn’t mind the rocking of the train too much, but it did get to Jessica. She had initially claimed the top bunk, but within minutes of leaving the station we had to switch because she was getting motion sick up there.

All in all, it was probably the worst night's sleep we'd gotten since Lucerne. Mercifully, the train pulled out onto a side track outside Prague at some point in the early morning, giving us a couple hours to sleep before we finally pulled into the station at 8:30 in the morning.

It felt like we'd pulled an all-nighter, and with groggy heads we stumbled out into Prague station. Our Airbnb wouldn’t be ready for check-in until noon, but we had some tasks to accomplish in the meantime. The first was to get our next train tickets before leaving the station, but we weren’t nearly caffeinated enough for that yet.

We parked ourselves in a café in the train station and slowly churned out a plan for the next few days while kick-starting our brains on expensive iced lattes. The menu was strangely complicated, and the people serving us seemed confused by our presence. But maybe I was just projecting my own tired confusion.

The part of Prague that tourists visit is divided into four sections. There's the medieval Old Town, clustered in a bend of the Vltava River. Old Town is known for its charming shop-lined streets and well-preserved Jewish quarter. Then there's the New Town, built over the last few centuries in a band around the outskirts of the Old Town. It houses a lot of Prague's great monuments and Art Nouveau architecture. And across the Vltava from the Old and New Towns are the Little Quarter and the Castle Quarter, where the city's richest residents and noblest visitors historically lived.

Having sketched out some things to do–and imbibed a minimally sufficient level of caffeine–we went to get our train tickets out of town. Having spent last night figuring out all the trains we would need to take for the rest of the trip, we figured we'd try to buy as many of them as we could. (We may have learned a lot of flexibility during the trip, but we're still obsessive planners at heart.)

But given the long line of people waiting behind us and the tenuous level of communication we managed to achieve with the person behind the ticket counter, we decided to settle for just getting our tickets to Vienna, where we would try our luck again.

I had always expected that one of the biggest culture shocks of the trip would be going from Scotland to Poland. But it turned out to actually be going Poland to the Czech Republic. In Poland, virtually everyone we dealt with spoke very good English, and Jessica’s familiarity with the city and some essential Polish phrases made everything go as smoothly as I could have imagined.

Prague was a much more difficult transition. Even something as simple as using a public pay-toilet–something we’d done plenty of times in plenty of countries–was a challenge. The payment machine was complicated, the instructions were only in Czech, and the attendant didn’t speak any English either. Luckily, another traveler who spoke Czech and English was able to translate for me.

Navigating the train station to the metro platform also proved difficult. We tried to follow the signs, but not every turn was marked. The shopkeeper we asked directions from didn’t speak English, so we resorted to just saying “Metro?” while looking as cartoonishly quizzical and helpless as possible. A confused shopkeeper eventually pointed us in the right direction. It was right in the middle of the station's main atrium. Again, I blame the lack of sleep.

Later, when we went grocery shopping, I felt overwhelmingly out of place. Not since we were in Morocco did I feel this unable to figure out the basic, routine procedures of living in a place. Even in Krakow, I could at least say please, thank you, and sorry in the local language. Somehow, even just those few words seemed able to bridge a thousand-mile gap. We tried, but between the lack of sleep and the punishing heat we just couldn't keep them in our brains. It also didn't help that many of the phrases were close enough to Polish for me to get them confused but not close enough that I could get away with just speaking Polish and trusting people to understand me.

Even after all this time abroad, it’s still unnerving to find myself surrounded by people I can’t communicate with, in their own territory, where it’s clear I’m in their way. Standing in front of the ready-meals, confusedly fumbling with my phone to figure out what everything was, I could tell that I was annoying the other customers who wanted to get in. Even though I always moved out of their way to let them in, I felt I didn’t belong there in the first place.

And Google Translate wasn't much help when it came to Czech cooking instructions:

Anyway, after finding the Metro–finally something we understood!–we rode over to our flat. It was on the fuzzy boundary between the New Town and the rest of modern Prague that tourists don't really go to. It was close enough to walk into the Old Town. Or, at least, it would have been if the sun wasn't so unbearably scorching.

Our place still wasn’t quite ready yet, so we picked up our keys (which were on a little wooden tree and tagged with adorable names like "Lovely" and "Cozy"), dropped off our bags, waited for a few gallons of sweat to evaporate from my quick-dry t-shirt, then headed out for lunch.

Jessica found a place called Bar Fud, a Wisconsin-themed pub restaurant specializing in cheese fries staffed mainly by American expats. I know–bad on us for going to the American food place on our first day in a new and exotic European capital. But we were tired, hot, and hungry. And let me tell you, those cheese fries were damn good.

I had a deliciously decadent cheeseburger, and Jessica had a spicy chicken sandwich. Too spicy, actually--it was overflowing with jalapenos. She made a valiant effort, but in the end Jessica had to scrape most of them off. Mildly regrettable ordering decisions aside, as we sat in a shady outdoor booth drinking cold cider and eating our sandwiches, everything finally felt right again with the world.

As we left, we passed a tourist and a local flirting over a glass of absinthe.

Finally able to enter our apartment, we both knew that we weren’t going to be doing any sightseeing today. Instead, we checked in, converted the sofa bed (which also took a surprising amount of effort and ingenuity), and flopped down for a sweaty few hours of afternoon napping before dinner.

At least Prague seems to believe in ceiling fans, which is one step in the right direction compared to everywhere else we’ve stayed in Europe.

Oh, and the elevator.

We never had a problem with it, but the elevator in our building was one of the smallest, most unnerving elevators we used on the entire trip. It never quite aligned with the floor you were on, and it always started moving with a jolt several seconds after you started to think it must have already started moving without you noticing.

Again, I'm glad to have had the experience of taking a night train, but looking back, we almost certainly would have had a better time if we'd just taken a regular day train. We definitely would have felt better, and we might have even had the energy to actually do something interesting in town with the few hours we still would have had that evening.

Next Post: Prague–Old and Nouveau

Last Post: Salt, Cemeteries, and Castles (Krakow, Part II)

[waiting-among-the-stars]

Among the Stars: Chapter One, Part Two

A small gasp from Indie, and the smaller man was whirling about, the flashlight’s beam flailing about wildly. Quickly, Rusty moved behind him and settled his hands on his shoulders.

“Easy, Indie. Easy.. It’s gone for now.” Giving his shoulders a reassuring squeeze, he then took his hand and nudged him toward the door. “How ‘bout I walk you back to the barracks, yeah?” Indie nodded, taking a deep breath and trying to calm his panic. He had no reason to be afraid, Rusty was right here with him. However, the thought did cross the captain’s mind that.. Well, with Indie here, he didn’t actually have a real witness if he did end up dead. If the imposters were quiet enough killers, which he had known them to be in the past, then Indie wouldn’t notice a damn thing.

“Sorry..”

“What for?” Indie shook his head, and was silent, leaving Rusty just genuinely confused, despite repeated attempts at getting an answer. Had he imagined the apology then? No, he knew he’d heard him.. Right? The trip to the barracks was easy, and relatively short compared to the trip from navigation, but.. He couldn’t help but find himself still glancing around at the vents, and peeking around every dark corner.

“You’re nervous.”

“What? No. No, I’m just making sure we aren’t being followed.”

“With all due respect, Captain. I’m blind, not stupid.” He could feel the captain’s pulse vibrating against his palm, and felt every minute shift in movement and behavior. If there was one thing that Indie’s loss of sight had truly blessed him with, it was an incredible tactile sense of the world. Touch was his best asset, alongside his hearing. Couple that with an intelligent mind, and maybe that was why Indie had been allowed on this mission in the first place.

“I didn’t say that.”

“No, but everyone treats me like it.” A sigh, and Indie turned towards the barracks’ doors, reaching a hand out to feel his way. “I may be bad at visual tasks, but that doesn’t mean I don’t pick up on other things. Good night, Rusty.” A few careful taps on the keypad, and the door to Shade’s room slid open, Shade himself standing by the bed, half-dressed and looking like he’d been ready to run all throughout the ship in search of Indie. He regained his composure quickly, however, putting his hand on his shoulder, and giving a nod to Rusty.

“Captain.” And then the door closed again, leaving Rusty by himself in the halls. With a sigh, a mildly furrowed brow, and a shake of his head, the captain too made his way to bed for now, though not without a while of restless shifting back and forth, and the setting of a few traps around his room. Soon though, sleep claimed him too, and all was quiet for the time being aboard their ship.

“Gooood morning, everybody! This is your ship’s cook Honey Aurel here! The time is o-seven-hundred hours, and breakfast is served in the mess hall! Today’s menu is omelettes, sausage, bacon, and some eggless french toast and banana pancakes for the vegetarians! Enjoy your meal, and let’s make this a productive day!” Indigo was slow to rouse himself from slumber as Honey’s voice rang out over the PA system, and he sluggishly wormed his way out of Shade’s protective hold, blinking blearily at nothing. Shade took a moment to pull himself out of bed too, stretching a bit and yawning. It wasn’t long though before they were both dressed and joining everyone in the mess hall. Indie only paused for a moment or two before he made his way to the table, feeling his way along, and feeling Shade’s hand gently guiding him.

Indie settled himself in his seat, Shade slumping down at his left, and finally the hand left him, leaving him to guess at the world mostly alone. The distinctive, uneven tap-clank, tap-clank alerted him to Honey’s approach, as well as the tapping scrape of a plate being set down, to indicate the cook had put food in front of him.

“Cheese omelette with red peppers, chives, and tomatoes, along with a solid helping of sausage and bacon.” Honey’s voice was steady and even, with a laugh held just barely at the back of his throat. Indie lifted his head to acknowledge- He didn’t make it far before his head made fairly distinct contact with the cook’s chest. Paled eyes widened, and his eyebrows raised, before Indie ducked his head down again, choosing instead to occupy himself with the long, still somewhat tangled, ponytail that cascaded across his shoulder. He tried to focus himself on attempting to braid it, but with of course no success. A chuckle from Honey, and a hand pat his shoulder.

“My bad, Indie. Got a little too close again, didn’t I.” Tap-clank, tap-clank, tap-clank. His footsteps moved away, and Indie turned his attention instead to locating his plate and utensils, and the omelette was his first victim.

“Mm! You’ve really outdone yourself this time, Honey!” Rose, alerting Indie to be seated at his right, always one to offer praise and never afraid to lend a hand if he needed it. “I don’t think I’ve ever had better pancakes!”

“Aw, Rosie-girl, you’re making me blush!”

“I’m serious! You’ve gotta tell me what’s your secret!”

“‘ey, c’mon, girl. Let ‘im have his mysteries.” And that was Buck, seated across the table from him. “You ladies get to have all your little secrets and clever mysteries, not a wink to askin’ ‘bout ‘em, but the minute a man’s got ‘em, you’re dying to know.” Indie blinked a moment, considering it, but.. No. No, that didn’t make a whole lot of sense. Did it?

“Shove it, Buck, no one gives two shits about your rock collection.” Silver, three seats down from Buck at the right. He wasn’t much taller than Indie himself, but he was certainly a lot more aggressive and moody. Perhaps he was a perfect example of why some people liked to joke that short people were closer to hell. The sound of mild shuffling on the other side of Rose, then something wet hitting against skin.

“Hey! Try that again, River, I fucking dare you!”

“Oh, yeah? And what are you gonna do about it, Shortstop?”

“Don’t call me that!”

“Don’t call you what? Shortstop?”

“Fuck you!”

“Oh, you just wish you could, little man, but you don’t measure up.” Indie was content to just tune it all out at this point. Arguments between Silver and River were pretty much expected by now. She liked to tease, and he had a short fuse. Sure, they all could tell him just to stop giving her the reactions she was after, and often Skylar did try to advise him to do just that, but it never seemed to last long. Silver Blanche was like a time bomb ready to explode at any minute, and River Lochland was always there to set him off.

“All right, alright, that’s enough of that. You gotta stop aggravating him, Riv.” Honey’s even temper and charming optimism was honestly a gift. “One of these days he’s going to get even.”

“He just makes it too easy.”

“Easy’s boring, though. Pick a better target than the yapping dog. He’ll wear himself out chasing his own tail anyway.”

“The fuck did you just call me?!”

“Oooh~ Indie’s packing heat this morning, and Silver just got burned!”

“Indie, I will not hesitate to punch out a blind man!” A shift of a chair at his left, and Indie knew Shade was on his feet now, no doubt towering over Silver as was his way of things. Before anyone else could make a move, however, it was Rusty who spoke next. 

“I’m calling for a meeting..” It was with a grave solemnity that he spoke, and everyone at the table fell silent. Any arguments already forgotten, Shade settling himself back in his seat as the captain continued. “At thirteen-hundred hours, I expect everyone back here to deal with an important matter at hand. Anyone who doesn’t show, had better either be dead, or have a damn good excuse why not.” A shuffling of a plate and utensils, and the small slide of a chair, and Rusty’s footsteps departed from the mess hall. Still silence lingered.

They all understood what it meant when Rusty was serious about a meeting like that. He was their veteran on board, and as such, he was the most trusted to take any possible threats seriously. Their silence seemed to stretch on forever, before finally it was Skylar who spoke.

“Was there an attack? From one of those things?”

“Can’t be. We’re all here and accounted for.” Rose shifted just a bit closer, gently taking Indie’s hand in hers. “So.. it can’t be that someone was killed..”

“Could be about the boilers..” Forest now.

“What about the boilers?”

“Talked to him last night. Indie heard something in the boiler room, and he reported it to Rusty. Dunno what happened from there. I’d already gone to bed when I got told about it.”

“Yeah, I ain’t likin’ the sound of that..” It was as if the air around them had turned heavy and cold, just Rusty’s words leaving them all chilled.

Next

Previous

[imagine-loki]

Magic Mistake

TITLE: Magic Mistake CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 4 AUTHOR: staria ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine being a witch (on Earth) and accidentally summoning Loki. He gets angry and confused, but ends up actually liking your company and teaches you more magic.  RATING: T NOTES/WARNINGS:

———

I opened my eyes to find myself in the middle wilderness. I don’t think there was anyone near us at all. We were surrounded by majestic tall trees, grass on all directions, and to my left a pristine blue lake.

After bumping into Loki, we went back to my apartment where he told me to put on something comfy and pack some food. Apparently long training sessions can make you ravenous.

I put my hair up and picked black leggings, converse tennis shoes, a dark blue knitted sweater, plus I grabbed a thick charcoal grey hoodie before heading to the kitchen to get some food.

Think of it as a picnic, he said; but I wasn’t expecting to be transported to the middle of nowhere. I should have brought more of everything for this trip.

“This is it. No one will interrupt us here,” he said with a flourish, “I don’t think anyone has been up this path in at least ten years,” while sounding somewhat excited about his training ground selection.

I put down my things on the grass and sat down facing the small lake. I was aware that he brought me here to do some magic training, but I just wanted to sit down and stare at the beauty surrounding me. It had been far too long since I’d taken time off to be one with nature.

He quietly sat down next to me as if patiently waiting for me to take in the awesome scenery. After a few minutes I finally whispered, “I wish I could stay here forever. It’s so peaceful. This is all I need.”

I immediately regretted being so candid and hoped he hadn’t heard, me but he did.

“Me too,” he quietly said surprising me,  “I came upon this place by accident and I always mean to come back, but I never do. I always get entangled in other things.”

He seemed sad as he said this. It made me realize that maybe I judged him too harshly, that all I knew about him was from what I’d seen in the news. Maybe the whole thing with New York was a misunderstanding, because the person sitting next to me seemed too good-natured to have done all of those horrible things.

He looked so lost in his own thoughts that for a second I just wanted to hold his hand, maybe make him feel like he was not alone, but I stopped myself.

I took a good look at his face trying to guess his thoughts but I couldn’t see beyond the fact that he was actually beautiful. I just stared at his milky white soft skin, eyes so green that they seemed to glow like emeralds, and lips that made me smile.

Yet, it only took me a few seconds to realized I needed to stop what I was thinking right there. I’d been by myself for a long time and it needed to stay that way, I couldn’t risk having feelings for someone like Loki.

Besides, in the back of my mind I kept thinking about all the terrible things he had done to New York city. I might not have his side of the story, but I still didn’t feel like I could completely trust him.

Goddess, I didn’t feel like I could completely trust myself. I wasn’t innocent either, I’d done things I wish I could take back.

I pulled myself away from my thoughts, realizing that it was best to get up and just get this over with. The sooner we began the sooner I could be back home.

“Maybe we should get started. Practice makes perfect, you know,” I uttered, while stretching.

He looked up at me knitting his brows in confusion.

“We have all the time in the world, little witch. I’m not in a hurry,” finally grinning and looking like himself once more.

“Well, yeah, that’s you. I have other things to do.”

“I didn’t know you were in such a hurry. I guess you need to get back home to your cats as soon as possible.”

I tried to respond but he got me there, so I just smiled. I didn’t really have anything better to do but to go home to Cheddar and Gouda.

“Come on, let’s start.  I can’t wait to see what kind talents you have,” he said while rubbing his hands together, “I haven’t come across many Midgardians that can create an invisibility shield without the aid of an enchanted object.”

* * * * * *

After hours of practice, I’d been able to levitate small rocks  off the ground, duplicate a rock five or six times even though it was super hard to do, and I used the invisibility shield on a tree successfully.

All the energy I was using to generate magic got me extremely hungry, so we stopped to take a break and eat some lunch. I brought from home some fancy cheeses and deli meats that I had in my fridge and a french baguette to eat with butter. I also brought a bottle of wine that I decided to grab at the last second, not sure if it was a good idea, but I put it in my bag anyway.

We sat down on the grass and I began taking everything from the bag. He tore a piece of the bread with his hands and put some butter on it as soon as I took the loaf out of my bag. I poured the wine in two mugs I had brought as well and passed one to him. I seldom ever drink wine, so as soon as I had half a mug I began feeling the effect of the alcohol, but for Loki it seemed like he was drinking grape juice.

After I’d sat down for a few minutes, I was starting to feel tired from using all that magic and my muscles felt sore, but eating and drinking in such a lovely place was helping me feel better. I laid back on the grass after a while and began nodding off.

Loki kept eating in silence and some time passed by before he said anything to me,“You are making great progress in just one day. Are you sure you are just Midgardian? No other heritage?” He then laid back on the grass next to me, crossing his arms behind his head while looking at the sky.

His comment brought me back from my daydreaming, “Yup. One hundred percent. My family is just your normal conservative family. No special powers or anything like that. If they did, maybe they would talk to me more often.”

He turned his head and looked at me, “Your family has deserted you?”

I  chuckled dryly, “More like I deserted them. They were not happy when they discovered that I dabble in witchcraft. They acted like I was a danger to them, so once I turned 18 I left home and never looked back. I have a great-aunt that I call once in awhile but that’s it.”

He almost seemed angry when he said, “Family should never shun their children, especially if they have great talent like you.”

I really didn’t want to talk about my family anymore since I didn’t want to dwell on things that happened years ago, so I tried to get him to talk about him. I wasn’t ready to share my whole history with him.

“It sounds like your family situation is better than mine then,” I said, as I sat reaching for  my mug.

“Sure, the best,” he flatly said as he sat up as well, he then cut a piece of cheese and put it on a piece of bread.

“Do you have family?” I asked being somewhat confused at his change in mood.

“Yes, I have some family back in Asgard. We’ve had… our differences. I don’t like to talk about them.”

After that he stayed quiet, lost in his own world. Asking about his family was clearly a mistake, so I stayed quiet as well lost in my own secrets, trying to not focus too long on memories that I would never be able to forget.

His mood had changed so much that I could feel it deep in my bones, like a vibration rattling them. It made me wonder if maybe he sensed that I was holding stuff back about me or if maybe I said something that upset him.

“We need to get back to practice, it’s going to get dark soon. We can’t spend our whole day eating and talking like two teenage girls,” he said, as he began pacing from side to side with his arms linked behind his back.

I thought the comment was uncalled for, but I let it slide. I just wanted him to stop being in such a bad mood.

“Ok, I’m ready to train some more,” I said, hoping that my smile would put him in a better mood but I had no effect on him. It was like he had closed up.

“I think it’s time to test how well you can defend yourself,” he said, while giving me a cruel smile that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand.

He quickly created a green ball of energy and threw it at me. I barely had time to jump out of it’s way before he was throwing another one at me. I jumped to the side but I was still tipsy from all the wine and tripped, scratching my knee pretty bad.

“Loki, I don’t think I’m ready for this yet. Can we try something else?” I said, feeling like I was somewhat out of my comfort zone while trying to catch my breath.

“Nah, I think this is exactly the kind of training you need,” he said, mockingly.

As I was trying to get off from the ground he materialized two swords out of thin air and threw one of them at me. It landed right next to me and I grabbed it not knowing what to expect.

I had a feeling that this was not part of my training anymore and that he was just trying to prove a point about my incompetence. I tried walking away frustrated with the way he was acting, but he kept blocking my way by duplicating himself over and over until pretty soon I was surrounded by multiple Lokis.

I tried running between the Lokis but they would just grab me and throw me back in the circle until the real Loki jumped at me with his sword ready. He swung towards me and I used mine as best as I could to stop him from hitting me with it but he was stronger and I fell back, hitting the ground hard.

I guess he put all of his weight forward for that last hit because he fell as well on top of me, making me gasp for air.

I looked up at him, outraged and confused, not really understanding what was happening and asked him, “What’s wrong with you? You are not being yourself. This is not nice, Loki!” as I tried to push him off off me.

He angrily said, “I never said this was about being nice! Nice doesn’t get you anything!”

He  got up and began pacing back and forth once more, finally giving me some space to get up as well and breathe, “I’m here to train you, don’t expect us to become best friend. You summoned me, this is just business.”

I was so tired and moody that I walked up to him and punched him in the shoulder.

He rubbed his arm, even though I’m sure I didn’t hurt him at all, and said, “Where was that aggressiveness during training?” before giving me a ruthless smile.

“I don’t know what I did to you, but there’s no need for you to be this mean to me! Take me home! Now!” I yelled at him, trying to hold back tears. I told myself that I was not going to cry in front of him, so I turned my back and grabbed my things.

He was quiet the whole time I was getting my things, and then, without warning he snapped his fingers. We were back home.

* * * * * *

Once home, I dropped all of my thing in the middle of the living room. I went to the kitchen and put the tea kettle on the stove. I really needed some chamomile and lavender tea tonight.

“I need you to go now,” I said, tired and cold, not wanting to looking at him. I was sure that if I did, I would start crying like an idiot.

“It seems like we don’t see eye to eye when it comes to training.  Maybe when you are ready we can continue where we left off,” he said, before opening a portal through which he left.

And just like that he disappeared, leaving me by myself in my kitchen. I was glad he was gone, yet I had never felt so lonely in my life.

[shannrussell-blog1]

I’ve spent quite a bit of time road tripping across the USA, visiting many of its amazing national parks. However, Yosemite is by far one of my all-time favourites.

Yosemite National Park is about a 3-hour drive east of San Francisco in Northern California and is part of the Sierra Nevada mountain range. The Yosemite Valley was sculpted by glaciers from one-hundred-million-year-old granite. This created some of it’s most recognisable world-renowned landmarks – the granite summits of Half Dome and El Capitan.

The legendary Yosemite has been on my list to re-visit for years. 

My first trip to Yosemite National Park

I first visited Yosemite National Park way back in 1997. That trip was little more than a hit and run day drive out of San Francisco. I was so blown away by it, I promised myself I’d go back and have a proper look around.

It took me almost 20 years, but I finally managed to squeeze it into my road trip itinerary a few years back. I still didn’t get to stay as long as I wanted to, but a short trip there was better than no trip at all. I was pretty enthusiastic and energetic so I managed to take in quite a few sights in just two days.

Half Dome and El Capitan are two of the most recognisable rock formations in the world. 

Why it’s just as amazing as people say it is

In a time where all sorts of fancy adjectives get thrown around at the drop of a hat, and every other place on the planet is a supposed ‘must see’, for me Yosemite deserves every single superlative you can throw at it. It truly is a magical, natural wonderland. And then some.

One of the main entrances is through Wawona Tunnel – a 1,290m long tunnel that emerges at what is known, somewhat unsurprisingly, as ‘Tunnel View’. It’s here that you’ll catch your first glimpse of the valley, and you’ll soon see why I say that because it’s like entering Narnia. Not that I’ve ever been to Narnia, but it’s what I imagine it would be like. I fully expect that unicorns live in Yosemite but I just haven’t seen any yet. I’m sure it’s only a matter of time.

The official website has all kinds of useful information, but like most places, a little bit of planning ahead can go a long way. With that in mind, I’ve put together my list of ten things you’ll want to know before you visit this place, based on my experiences.

When you drive through the Wawona Tunnel, you can catch your first glimpse of the park. 

1. Book your accommodation months in advance

If you’re planning on spending more than a day there, the first thing you’ll need to do is make sure you’ve got a place to stay. Which is not so easy to do during peak season. There is quite limited accommodation in the valley itself. Rooms and even campsites can book out months in advance. So, while I’m the kind of guy who likes to fly by the seat of my pants and make things up as I go along, this is one place where it’s difficult to do that. It definitely pays to plan and book ahead.

The good news is if you do miss out, there are a few options not so far out of the valley. Sure, it will add an hour’s drive each way to get there, but it’s a great drive so there are worse outcomes. I stayed at the Yosemite Westgate Lodge which was more than reasonable.

This park is so popular that it’s essential to plan and book ahead of your trip. 

2. Choose a good time of year to visit

The best time to visit Yosemite is spring when the many waterfalls are falling and the weather is pleasant.

If you’re really into bucket list items and awesome Instagram pictures, consider going when the ‘Firefall‘ phenomenon is on. You’ll have to get your timing just right because it only happens for a handful of days in February each year. For a minute at dusk, the setting sun hits Horsetail Falls in just the right way and it looks more like fire than water.

Spring is arguably the best time of the year to visit the park. 

3. Check the roads before you set off

When planning your trip, it’s also worth pointing out Tioga Pass (Hwy 120E) which cuts across the park from west to east, is not open all year round. It usually closes in October and opens again early May when the snow thaws. But the actual opening day can vary, which I found out the hard way when I was there.

So if you’re planning on shooting out the east side of the park like I was, it’s worth making sure the road is actually open. Otherwise, you’re in for a really, really long detour out the south side of the park.

It’s a good idea to plan your route in advance. 

4. Make the most of the trip by visiting the nearby parks

Speaking of the south entrance/exit, if you do happen to come in via one of the entrances on the west side of the park, a trip to the south end of the park is definitely worthwhile. Down there, you can visit Mariposa Grove where you’ll find some mega redwoods – including two of the top 30 largest Giant Sequoias on the planet. While these aren’t the biggest trees in the general area, they’re pretty spectacular. You can even walk through one of them.

Another quick tip is if you do plan on exiting the park here, you’ll also be within striking distance of the nearby Sequoia and Kings Canyon National Parks. These are home to the world’s two largest trees – The General Sherman Tree (274.9ft tall) and the General Grant Tree (268.1ft tall), which should be on your radar as well.

You should make a point to check out the magnificent trees at Mariposa Grove.

5. Be aware of dangerous wildlife

As magical as it is in Yosemite, the area is not without its fair share of nasties. Specifically, they have bears and rattlesnakes. In the time I’ve spent there, I’ve never seen a bear, but I’ve almost stepped on a rattlesnake. A really big rattlesnake. They say if you hear them, it’s probably too late. I didn’t see it at all in the shadows, and only missed stepping on it because I heard its warning rattles. Apparently, that makes me pretty lucky.

Keep your eyes and ears open. Don’t be like me, otherwise, it could end very, very badly. There are also various protocols for keeping food stored to avoid bear encounters which is something I highly recommend paying attention to.

Yosemite is home to some dangerous creatures, which include rattlesnakes. 

6. Keep an eye out for rodents such as squirrels

While they’re not as nasty, another tip I can offer is to watch out for the local squirrels. Those guys may look cute, but they’re very destructive. If you leave your pack unattended, they’re likely to chew their way through it in search of food in the blink of an eye. They may not be dangerous, but if you don’t want your fancy hiking pack to end up like a piece of Swiss cheese, make sure it doesn’t leave your sight.

This is particularly relevant at the base of Half Dome where some people choose to leave their packs behind for the final push to the top. Do that at your own peril. Or more to the point, your pack’s peril.

Squirrels are pretty adorable, but don’t let them fool you!

7. What to see if you’re pressed for time

If you’re pushed for time, even a cruise around the loop road on the valley floor will dish up some epic sights. With very little physical effort and even less time, you can see the imposing rock face of El Capitan, the Merced River that runs through the valley, Yosemite Falls (at 2,425ft it’s one of the tallest in North America), Bridal Veil Falls and a few other bits and pieces. You’ll kick yourself, twice, if you don’t spend more time there. But if you literally only have a day, it can be done.

Bridal Veil Falls can be visited on a shorter trip to Yosemite. 

There are a few legendary hikes in the park. The Mist Trail up past Vernal and Nevada Falls is mind-bogglingly good. It takes in a fair bit of elevation including some rough, rock stairs that can get quite slippery in the mist blowing off the waterfall. And thus the name, ‘Mist Trail’.

There are a few options here. You can walk to the bottom of Vernal Falls, further up to the top of the falls, on to Nevada Falls, and make a loop of it and come back down the John Muir Trail. For the more adventurous, you can push on to the legendary Half Dome.

The Mist Trail is one of the most popular shorter hikes that you can do. 

8. The best days to get a permit for the Half Dome

Half Dome is one of Yosemite’s most recognisable natural rock formation and climbing it isn’t for the faint-hearted. It also requires a little planning. In official climbing season (May to October) when there are cables and handrails for safety, you’ll require a permit. Permits are given out via a lottery system in March and are strictly limited (225/day) to avoid overcrowding on what is a precarious final slog up to the top.

A little hint, Tuesdays and Wednesdays are statistically your best chance of snagging a permit. You can also request up to seven different dates to increase your chances.

You can’t go to Yosemite without catching a glimpse of Half Dome.

9. If you miss out on a permit, there are other ways to go about climbing it

There’s a chance you will miss the draw, but 50 permits are given out in the daily lottery. If you don’t snag a permit and are there out of season, there is still hope to climb it. The final section of trail is a steep climb up an almost smooth surface. In peak season, they lift the cables so you can walk upright using them as handrails.

But during the offseason, they sit flat against the rock and navigating your way up requires gloves and more guts than I had when I was there. Make no mistake, this final part of the hike is dangerous and discouraged, but possible. People can, and have, died up here so just be aware of that and exercise caution.

Even if you don’t plan on climbing the last section, the views from up there are pretty spectacular so I highly recommend it. Just make sure you allow yourself plenty of time as it’s a full day’s hike to get up and down again. It’s worth double checking the current rules as they can change. These were accurate as of January 2018.

You’ll need a permit to tackle Half Dome at Yosemite. 

10. Grab yourself an annual pass for access to other parks as well

Like many places around the world, in America, you need to pay to enter National Parks, including Yosemite. You can pay $30 USD for a regular car or RV to enter Yosemite for up to seven days. But if you’re road tripping around and plan on hitting some other national parks, it’s well worth grabbing the America the Beautiful National Parks Annual Pass. This costs $80 USD and it will get you into all national parks. Although, just be aware the pass doesn’t usually include access to State Parks which require a separate entry fee.

You can kill two birds with one stone if you get an annual pass for the other national parks. 

The short time I’ve spent there isn’t anywhere near enough time to explore Yosemite properly. I could easily spend a week there hiking all the different trails, so I strongly suggest if you’re in the area, you stay for at least four or five days if you can.

I know I can’t wait to get back and check out new mountains, trails, waterfalls, and to hopefully not see any more rattlesnakes.

For more travel destinations, head here. Have you ever visited any of the National Parks in the USA? Did they live up to your expectations?

The post Tips for Visiting Yosemite National Park appeared first on Snowys Blog.

[definitelyameatbag]

Meet the Cats

Another chapter for the college AU by @drawbauchery!

---

“Well, that’s the Reptile House done. How far until we see the elephants, Laplace?”

Perri turned to look at Laplace’s face as the taller woman flicked through the map of the zoo. She noticed the bright sun bringing out freckles on her face that she hadn’t seen before. Perri already felt her own skin burning in the heat wave, the last gasp of summer weather before the winter chill. Amy, currently enjoying a bag of popcorn beside them, had suggested they go to the city zoo for the weekend, while they still had the good weather. Well, her first idea had been the beach, but Laplace and she bargained that down to only going if the heat lasted long enough after a Sunday to somewhere else, so the zoo it was. Good Lord, Perri thought, what if some of the students saw them?

“The elephants seem to be down that path, on the other side of the tiger pit.”, Laplace pointed forward, on a path parallel to a ring of steel railings circling a pit. The zoo was hardly packed, the summer boom of visitors over, but the path Laplace pointed to had more people than the average they had seen during the day, suggesting it was a place boasting a few star attractions.

“Jeeze, Perri, you’re pretty damn eager to see these elephants.”, Amy noted, ruffling Perri’s hair. Perri blushed, straightening her hair out again.

“I’ve always wanted to ride one, ever since I saw The Jungle Book as a kid. They’re so big an powerful and--oh!”, she turned to run towards a sign next to the railing of the tiger pit.

“‘The Siberian Tiger is the largest cat on Earth. Native to the Sikote-Alin mountain range, less than 600 individuals are alive today, but due to conservation efforts that number is rising. Wysex and Jaden are the third-generation descendants of a donation by Novosibirsk Zoo in the 1980’s. Their coats are of--’”

“Perri, there they are!”, Laplace interrupted Perri’s reading, in a hushed tone. Perri looked up to see two huge tigers emerge from behind a rock formation, drinking from a stream with a few cubs in tow.

“Awww!”, Amy sounded, moving her popcorn to dig into her pocket. “Hey Perri, get into shot, I’ll take your pic!”

Perri looked at her, and acquiesced, “Alright!”, shifting to the right to get between them and the tigers leaning back on the railing. “Tell me how to pose!”

“You’re good for the catwalk, Perri!”, complemented Laplace at seeing Amy fiddle with her camera-phone, who responded with a “Hey-oooo!”

Perri smiled. She hadn’t known either of them for very long, but for their quirks she had thought they were pretty cool people, being friendly enough to let her into their little world.

She barely heard the ‘cheese’ as her ears rang of the bolt that snapped off the connection to the section of railing she was leaning on. She had even less conscious thought to give to the sight of the world spinning as both she and the railing fell backwards.

In just a second, by the moment the camera clicked, she had disappeared under the new entry into the pit.

“Perri!”, screamed Laplace and Amy, running to the edge of the rim. About fifteen feet below them, on a patch of dirt ground, Perri laid on top of the railing, not moving.

Amy ran her hands her her hair, muttering, “Shit, shit, shit, what do we do, what the hell do we do?” Laplace spun around in a panic, looking for a zookeeper. “Help! Someone’s fell into the tiger pit!”

Amy took a deep breath, looking down at Perri, still lying still on the ground below them.

“Fuck me.”

Laplace stood in shock as she saw Amy step off the edge. “Amy!”, she shouted, ducking down to peak just over the edge, seeing the woman landed on her feet at the bottom, “What you doing, you crazy bastard?!”

“Chill!”, Amy shouted back, looking down at Perri to her right. She could see her eyes slowly opening, possibly her regaining consciousness. “Perri, are you alright?!”, Amy asked, much more quietly, putting her hand on her back to shake her.

“Uhhhhh...”, moaned Perri, pushing herself up with her hands, “What happened...”

“We’re in the tiger pit, Perri.”, answered Amy, managed to send a chill down her own spine.

Perri continued lifting herself off the railing, “What...Tiger...”, before freezing when she lifted her head.

“Amy.”, she spoke, as evenly as she could manage. “They see us.”

Amy looked up to see them. Two Siberian Tigers, each one the size of a motorcycle, stood about thirty feet away, watching them. Amy had no idea how fast they could run, but she couldn’t imagine it would give them much time. “Is this where we puff ourselves up to look as imposing as possible?”, she asked Perri.

“No!”, shouted Laplace from above, “They have cubs! Being threatening will just make them want to kill you more!”

“Wow, thanks!”, screamed Perri, harshly, jolting up to a stand. Amy looked behind them for a moment, not an instant more than she dared to, to see her climbing surface. She met with fifteen feet of concrete wall, poured into a concave surface like a seawall, impossible to climb.

They couldn’t go back, and they couldn’t go forward. Amy darted her eyes left and right, trying to see an exit. “Blue! You see a gate anywhere?!”

“I think I see one at the other end! Go right!”

“Alright, P, get ready to run.”, Amy slowly motioned to Perri.

“I can’t.”, Perri replied, refusing to take her eyes off the tigers.

“Perri, seriously, we need to high-tail it, now.”

Perri slowly leaned to her left, to Amy , “I can’t move. I can’t.”

Amy was dripping with sweat, adrenaline shooting through her veins as her heart boomed in her temples, “Perri, this isn’t the time to pa--”

“I can’t. Move.” Perri pleaded, one last time.

Then one of the tigers took one lumbering step forward.

“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH”, Perri yelled, shooting off to the right and sprinting as fast as she could, Amy staying close behind her.

The ground had been mostly level next to the wall, and minus a near slip when crossing the stream that ran through an iron grate, Amy and Perri kept at full sprint. Amy could see that Perri was running with a slight limp, maybe through hurting herself on the railing. She nearly slowed down, the popcorn in her stomach making a quick job of leaving her winded, but a momentary turn of her head to the left, and the spotting of an orange blur, put her back to top speed.

At last, they approached the gate, part of a section of wall made of vertical metal bars, like a prison cell. Amy had slightly overtaken Perri, and banged on the gate, locked shut with a chain. “Hey! Is anybody out there?!”

She turned to check if the tigers were there, but she could only see Perri, ten feet back, on the ground after tripping on a log. “Perri! Ar--”

The tigers emerged, slowly lumbering from the bush, one approaching Perri and the other facing Amy, putting itself between the two women.

Perri rolled onto her back, causing the tiger to halt for a moment, giving her a considering look. Perri was frozen in helplessness, her arms instinctively up and exposing her belly. She started hyperventilating at the thought of disembowelment.

“Amy...please, help me...”, she whimpered, as the tiger took a few more steps toward her. Sniffing her, it began licking her face, her skin getting a few scratches from the tongue meant to peel hide off flesh. It placed its forepaws across her torso, and gave a yawn, baring a mouth that could fit her head inside, armed with a set of thick and sharp teeth. A small voice inside Perri’s mind told her to stay still, accept her fate, and try to faint to avoid the worst of the pain.

She stayed fully aware as 300 pounds of tiger slumped on top of her, using her as a cushion.

“P!”, Amy whispered, losing her mind at the site of what seemed to be Perri being adopted, but still alert at the tiger directly in front of her.

She nearly had a heart attack as the tiger roared and leaped at the bar wall, from which squirted a jet of water aimed for the tiger.

“We’re here, Amy!”, cried Laplace, which Amy could see was holding the hose the water was coming from, “Get Perri!”

“How?!”, screamed Amy, looking at Perri, who now seemed to be having her face licked by one of the cubs.

“Here, take this!”, yelled another voice, likely a zookeeper, pushing something through the bars.

Amy grabbed it immediately, looking at it in her hands. It was a brown leather bullwhip.

“What the hell do I do with this?!”, scoffed Amy.

“Smack them!”, ordered the zookeeper, “Get them to retreat for the cubs’ safety!”

Adrenalin continued to numb away at her sense of danger as she unfurled the whip, letting about ten feet of leather strip fall to the ground as she took a few swings to get used to the weight.

Moving her arm in a great arc, she took one first swing at the approaching tiger, hitting the ground just beside it, causing it to flinch but not much. Amy tried shifting around it, sliding right in a semicircle she planned to eventually reach Perri on. She took another swing, this time a direct hit on the snout, causing a blood-curdling snarl.

The tiger on top of Perri also roared, jumping off her and dashing behind the tiger facing Amy.

After a few more swings, Amy praying each time to not hit one of the cubs and shifting a little more inbetween the opening each hit gave her, she managed to get next to Perri, still catatonic on the ground.

“Perri, I think we need to get out of Dodge.”, Amy assured her, in a sense of bravado that even she thought was a little misplaced.

Perri muttered something incomprehensible as she lifted herself up and took shelter behind Amy, leaning onto her for support. She managed to collect herself enough to say, “My leg feels like it’s broken. I need carried if I’m going to move.”

“Well, I’m not going up against these things without a whip!”, snapped Amy.

Water squirted out of the bars again, distracting the tigers. Lapis shouted, “Try heading back to where you feel in! I’ll be there, we’ll pull you up with the whip!”

In a spin, Amy scooped up Perri and began to run back where they came. Perri gripped on as tightly as she could as Amy leaped over the stream, sprinting the full distance back to the railing.

Her arms and legs ached as she placed Perri onto the ground. “Alright, P, get on my back.”, she gasped, struggling for air as she sat in front of Perri. Perri dutifully put her arms around her neck, as Amy leaned forward to get standing again. “Alright, Laplace, c’mon, get here...”

“Amy.”, said Perri, into her ear. “If we die here, let me just say...you looked really cool swinging that whip.”

Amy gave a breathless laugh as her free hand gripped onto Perri’s. “And thanks, P, for being so small and light.”

Perri managed a tight squeeze before Laplace’s head peeked over the edge. “Alright, throw me it!”

“Hold on, P.”, Amy put her whole body into the swing of the roll of whip, managing to get at least one of the ends up for Laplace to catch.

After a few seconds, Laplace called out again, this time out of sight. “OK! Here it comes!”

An end of the whip fell over the edge, the tip ending just about a foot above the reach of Amy’s arms.

“Oh, come on!”

“Wait!, shouted Perri, shifting her weight up her back, stretching out and grabbing at the whip, rolling a length into her hands. “Grab my hips!”

Amy did a 180, Perri left hanging on to the whip-turned-rope. Amy wrapped her arms around Perri’s hips, clasping on tight.

And then she noticed the orange blobs exiting the bush.

“PULL US UP! PULL US UP!”

Amy felt her feet leave the ground, just as Perri cried out in pain. Amy normally felt fine about her weight, but Perri probably didn’t feel good about the weight of two people going through her spine, arms and hands.

The tigers were only a few feet away as they really began to start getting lifted. Amy swung up her legs, in preparation for a tiger jump.

Fortunately, blessedly, they reached the edge of the wall, and she felt people pull her and Perri back onto the surface.

The concrete surface was nearly the most beautiful thing she saw that day. 

“Me and my fucking great ideas!”, screamed Laplace, which Amy looked up to see the face of. She was overflowing with tears, hair frazzled and jaw clenched, as inelegant as she ever saw her before. “I nearly got you two killed!”

Amy and Perri looked at her, then at eachother, and began to laugh.

“What, what’s so funny?!”, Laplace shouted, “You were nearly eaten by fucking tigers! Do you understand how much danger you were in?!”

As one, they tackled Laplace to the ground with a hug.

“I’m being serious! I nearly killed you two with that idiotic id--”

“Shut up and hug us, Blue.”, Amy commanded.

Sighing, Laplace gave in, and wrapped an arm each around Perri and Amy.

---

Wednesday morning. Laplace was at her desk, an arm lying on the desk to form a little hamper for Pumpkin to sit in and stay warm. With her other hand, she held up a bottle for Pumpkin to drink milk from, which they were getting through voraciously.

Perri walked in through the main entrance, only slightly limping.

“Hello!”, greeted Laplace, looking up from the tiny Pumpkin. “You’ve been let off quickly!”

“Yeah.”, replied Perri, “It was just a sprain. Still not something to run on, but not too bad. I see you’re bonding with Pumpkin.”

Laplace gave a grin that was downright cheeky. “Yeah, I’ve moved them to my desk. I thought you and Amy could do with being away from cats for a while.”

Perri grimaced. “I’ll be at my desk. You can get the coffee.”