#last year she got hit by a car and survived because she's a goddess

[fluffykitteninabox]

my aunt's friend (girlfriend?) sent us a photo of their cat, Ginger:

I feel I have to share with my url being what it is

[karimac]

...in the details, Part 2

A/N: Warning for this series: 18+ audience (minors DNI), some cinematic level violence, some fluff and angst. Doubt that smut will be involved, but it may be implied. I’ll make sure that is noted clearly if it pops up.

All relationships, at this point anyway, are platonic.

Please do not repost or translate my work. Likes, comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

A bit about the OC Kari

Part 1

All mistakes are my own.

Word count: 2,249

Before you ventured into Westview, a flight of birds overhead reminded you of Redwing and Sam. Poor Sam. That sixth sense you had told you that fight at the compound was going to lead you all into very weird places. And the first one left you very squarely not in the room once again.

This time it was Steve and Bucky being thick as thieves, and you and Sam were…making a sandwich run? Couldn’t exactly get GrubHub to make a delivery to an attack site, could you? Bruce did not want some driver with a cellphone putting video up on Snapchat. “How would that look?” he bemoaned as he worked on the time travel platform. “We’d be getting tourists left and right. I don’t need that.” So off you and Sam went.

“You know, you could just, you know,” Sam started to say as he waved his hands like he thought a wizard would do, “and just poof up a plate of stuff. Right? With extra food for Banner, of course. He inhales tacos like nobody’s business. Just ask Tic Tac.”

“Sam, what have I told all of you before? Magic is the transfer of energy and matter. No suitable food stuff means no sandwiches. I can’t just think about the deli counter at Wegman’s and make a sandwich and a side of coleslaw appear in my hand. So, we’ll order on the app and pick it up. Just like everyone else. Before I hit the button, any changes to your order?”

“No, it’s fine. But don’t tell me you’ve never done shit like that when you’ve had your back against it,” Falcon huffed as you went to the rental car you’d gotten earlier in the day. That, thank Heaven, was easy to get at the local but extremely small airport.

“I’ve killed small rodents and eaten them, and I don’t mean just rabbits. Snakes, too. And, well, birds of prey, like falcons,” you groaned as you started to get into the car, but you stopped and headed back to the passenger side. “And I know you hate my driving, so here you go,” you said as you handed Sam the keys. “Sorry it isn’t a Ferrari. I was lucky to get this Kia. They didn’t exactly have anything race course worthy.”

As Sam climbed in, he saw bags of gear in the back seat. “You pulling a Wanda? Need some me time away from all us testosterone jockeys? Cyborg is going to be pissed.”

“Bucky has other stuff to deal with, trust me,” you said as you rolled your eyes. “He does not need to add Crazy Old Broad to his growing list of things to do and people to take care of this week. I heard him talking to Steve…”

“You? Eavesdropping? You are human!” Sam smirked, but then he saw the comment had hit a nerve. “You know I was kidding, right?”

“I know you are,” you said as you swallowed hard. In reality, you were not exactly buying that last comment. Sam was a sweetheart, but his comment sounded like things Tony and Steve had said about you in the weeks before the Time Heist. It depended on the situation, but one or the other of them seemed to question you, your motives, your powers and what they could do, and, at times, your grasp on reality. You did have a connection to a goddess they couldn’t see. Blaming them for having those questions just was not in your wheelhouse. “And yeah, maybe I just need to go figure a few things out. You guys know how to get me back here if you need me.”

“Somehow I don’t think Steve, Bucky and I would look so great standing and screaming your name in the middle of a fight,” Sam noted as he finally turned the key in the ignition.

“Now who is having issues with gender roles?” you said with a very pronounced side glance. “Sam, we are all human. We all need a save now and then. Maybe you’ll never have to utter my name again after today, unless you guys can’t find something you think I hid? Thor will be back once he’s done exploring the universe, and you can always get him here fast if you have Strange find him. And Wong is just dying for his shot as a full time Avenger. We all know that! And I can go back and do, well, goddess stuff, I guess. And raise horses. Just, please, make sure no one drops the ball on Parker. He lost his parents and his uncle. Losing Tony will hit him harder than anyone likely expects. He’s a good kid. He just needs support and guidance. Now, want to get this thing moving, or do you want me to drive?”

“And have you antagonize the local cops by going Mach 1? No thank you!”

You had to laugh at that one. You did tend to floor it. A lot.

++++++++++

A short time later, you and Sam rolled back to the site Bruce had chosen to set up the time travel platform. After you two handed out all the food, you realized it was really time for you to get going. No, you didn’t have a train, plane or bus to catch or someone to meet. You just knew it was going to get harder to make the break the longer you stayed there.

“She’s pulling a Wanda on us,” Sam said as he finished off the last of the sweet tea he had grabbed at the deli where you’d gotten food. “I think it’s too much he-man macho stuff, but she won’t fess up to that.”

“Wilson, how many brothers did I have?” you asked as you cleaned up the trash from the table Bruce had borrowed from a local park that had been wrecked during the battle. It had a huge hole in the end, but hey, it was good enough for the moment.

“Eight,” Bucky replied before Sam got the chance. “Just don’t quiz me on all their names. I remember your twin, Branan, and the one who was the vampire. Ewan? Right?”

“Yup, that’s right,” you grinned at Buck. “And no quiz. Promise,” you said as you raised your left hand and crossed your heart with your right.

“Why are you leaving?” Bruce asked as he adjusted the sling on his still injured arm, putting extra emphasis on the word “are” as he uttered it. “We need all the help we can get.”

Bruce, heaven help him, was suddenly one of the last active OG Avengers standing on Earth. Thor was off finding himself with the Guardians, and no one could really begrudge him that. He needed time to heal, and you knew all too well that was not easy nor time limited. Clint had more or less retired again after Natasha’s sacrifice on Vormir. Steve was getting ready to take the stones back, but upon his return, he’d likely join up with Sam and Bucky again to root out any remaining Hydra cells. That left Bruce in a very different place this time around.

“Bruce, you don’t really need me being a head case. Trust me. You do not need me giving any news outlets ammunition to blast headlines that make the team look less than spotless. I need to go home, at least for a little while,” you replied, knowing full well you were not telling him or the others everything. “And as I reminded Sam, you guys can just call me, and I’ll be here. Just whisper my name. Or yell it. Whatever works. Text me! If it’s an emergency, and if I’m not in the middle of some new damned war on my end, I’ll come running. But I have a feeling you guys are going to be just fine. Hell, I’ll give you a blessing before I head out.”

Yeah. A blessing. More like the final nail in the coffin. The words to start the spell to make them forget you.

“Big guy, you first,” you said as you put your hands on Bruce’s injured right arm. “And no, I am doing this, Bruce. It won’t be a full healing, but it should speed things up. You got this, big guy. Biggest brain. Biggest heart. May you realize just how much this team was built with your sweat and tears as it was anyone else’s.”

“I can’t change your mind?” Bruce asked as he pretended to wipe a tear from his eye and pout a bit. “And I am not asking because you are likely the only one of us who can cook…”

“I’m pretty sure all of you guys can cook something. Maybe not a good Colcannon or a fine Dublin coddle, but you’ll survive. As for the cupcakes, you guys may need to get a bakery on speed dial,” you added with a laugh because you knew they’d make that bakery rich. The Avengers loved their sugary snacks.

“Just don’t bug my sister, Bruce,” Sam noted as he waited for you to come over to him. “I still remember asking why the Cupcake Lady had a sword that night when those demon things attacked near the tower. I never asked. Why the cupcakes?”

“And not why the demons or the sword?” you said as you nearly choked on your words. “You realize that was before Steve saw me at Peggy’s funeral. That night was truly a fluke, Sam. No one was supposed to see that side of me then. As for the cupcakes, they were my entry to your world. Gifts from a fan girl. They’re easy to carry, a synch to personalize when needed, and everyone can have their own without fighting,” you said with a grin as Sam shook his head. “What?”

“You sound like Sarah.”

“Then I am in good company. Tell her the good stuff you’ve told me all these years. The words of wisdom. The little jokes. The pep talks. Tell her often. A single mom with two boys needs that. Be there for her, and drag these guys to see her, too. It would do the boys a world of good to have all their uncles stop by. Now, Samuel,” you said as you gave him a hug, “remember to keep these guys flying right. And if the world drops opportunity in your lap, whatever it might be, do not look at it and push it away without a lot of thought. The world needs Sam Wilson, the hero with a heart.”

And now the hardest part of this good bye had you wiping tears from your eyes. “I know. I’m a big mush. Girls from Brooklyn would laugh at me for this, right? Sorry, but girls from Naas and Athy do cry sometimes. I’m going to miss you two lugs. A lot.”

“Lugs. Last time you called us that was in ’43,” Bucky said as he looked down at his feet for a minute. “Somehow Hydra missed that memory.”

“You’ll see us again,” Steve said as he turned briefly to see where the case with the stones was on the platform. “But this time, it better not take 70 years.”

As you looked at the best friends, something about their auras seemed off. They had been planning something when you almost walked in on their chat a few days ago. You had no idea what it was, and you suddenly didn’t want to hang around to find out what the next act was going to bring.

“Just…watch your back, Steve. From what Clint said about Vormir, that one is going to be tough. And Buck, whatever comes next, I’m rooting for you. Even if you can’t see me doing it.”

“You really don’t have to leave,” Bruce kept insisting as you hefted your backpack on your shoulder.

“Dr. Banner, do you really want to fight my demons after all this? I have enemies. You just haven’t seen them yet. Frankly, the only reason that Hydra didn’t grab me before I hooked up with the Howling Commandos was because I was pulled into another dimension by one of those enemies. It was only by some weird twist of fate that Peggy found me when she did. If the veil between worlds had not been so thin near that camp, I might never have made it back, or Hydra might have found me first. It was pure dumb luck.”

{{And, Heaven help me, part of it was these two lugs over here}} you thought as you turned to head to your car. Then you stopped. This was a lot harder than it had been any time before, but it was the curse of an immortal to have to keep moving on. “I wish you luck, joy and happiness. I wish you peace. And, if you are truly lucky, memories long enough to have little space to spare for the likes of me because they are filled with so much more! See you in my dreams, for now anyway, fellas.”

++++++++++

You rolled out of there before Steve started his mission to return the stones, and you got a text from Bruce hours later telling you everything that had happened. Steve not coming back as planned. Then an older version of Steve shows up, sitting on a bench near the platform, and he gives Sam the shield. Right in front of Bucky.

It was now weeks later. No. It was months later, and here you were staring up at the sign for Westview. You’d gotten out of your rental car so you could get a feeling for the area around this little town.

“You made it back,” a voice said behind you. “How are you, after all that mess with Wanda and that Agatha woman? She was a real piece of work.”

The person speaking to you was Dr. Darcy Lewis. Friend of Thor and Dr. Jane Foster. Why was she even here?

You couldn’t fully figure out what the hell she was talking about. You didn’t remember being here before. Yet, you knew who she was, and you had never met her before. Or at least you couldn’t remember meeting her, here or anywhere else.

“Apparently not as great as I thought I was,” you muttered as you winced again. “Dr. Lewis, how long ago was the blip?”

“Give or take a week, about six months ago,” she replied as you started to pace. “Why?”

“Shit. Not this again,” you hissed as you looked up at the sign once more. “I think I’m going to need your help. How much do you know about Celtic myths and Irish history, Dr. Lewis?”

[auroras-blend]

The Enemy of My Enemy

Summary: Vittoria meets the one, the only, the woman who convicted her father, the ex-wife of her arch-nemesis, a dynamite lawyer: Marie Thibodeaux!

Notes: Told in Vittoria's POV. Marie is only a cameo 😢

A myriad of blue and purple puzzle pieces surrounded her skirt. Well, how am I supposed to do this in just an hour? Vittoria was more or less sour that her father left her with Sawyer in his office as he ran errands, because 1) she was with Sawyer and 2) she was bored out of her mind. When the door had shut, Sawyer had barked at her to be quiet and quite literally threw the puzzle box in her face and told her to play with it. It was brand new and she could only assume it was to go to one of the grandchildren he’d never seen. He barely has any photos of his family! There was a picture of him, his first wife, and two sons on his desk and another photo of his daughter to the side that both looked to be taken decades before she was born. I’d be sad if he were my father.

Sawyer was busy writing aggressively, his tone sharp and bitter as he was on the phone with someone. I should scream he’s killing me...that’d be funny. She giggled at the thought and earned herself a nasty scowl from the man himself. What was lovely about Sawyer was that he would swear around her because he knew damn well her mother did and he really seemed to be the only person who understood there was no more protecting her poor little ears, that he says stick out worse than Mickeys. They do not!

With a little huff, she began to assemble the puzzle of the sea, or at least that's what it said it’d be according to the box. And in her opinion, she was doing extremely well! “Look!” she pointed gleefully, “I’m almost done!”

“Wooooow,” Sawyer murmured, his eyes glued to his paper, “We should have you tested to see if you’re gifted…”

Vittoria pouted. “This is why you’re not married anymore.”

That little jab may have hit too close to home because he flung a paperweight at her that hit her in the face again. It wasn’t too heavy and it most certainly didn’t break anything, but the hate and suddenness of it made her start crying. “Keep your trap shut,” he growled.

It seemed he was even crueler today and of course she was his victim. Her little hands gripped the smooth glossy paperweight and threw it back, but it couldn’t go much farther than to bounce against the top of his desk. Her strength didn’t match his and she started bawling, “Pathetic weak little thing…”

“You’re so mean to me! I hate you and-,”

“WHERE IS THAT COCKSUCKING MORALLESS CLOWN-,” boomed a voice that made Sawyer go white as a sheet of paper.

The whites of his eyes were on display as he sprung out of his chair and shut the blinds. He ripped her off the ground and put a finger to her lips, “Shut up,” he whispered, “Shut up right now.”

Sobs still heaved from her body, the sounds being drowned out by the woman outside. “I-I can’t! You hurt me!”

“Fuck,” he cursed, “I’ll give you...two dollars! Two dollars if you’re quiet right now!”

Her cries quieted down, but not completely. Sawyer was close to trembling, his grip on her shoulders and the look in his eyes were pleading. Huh, he’s desperate… “Five,” she said.

Might as well...He grit his teeth and growled, “Fine. Now shut up.”

Vittoria nodded and retreated into the corner. “Ma’am, you can’t go in there-,” screamed the secretary.

Right as Sawyer was about to turn out the light, the door slammed open and smashed his hand against the wall. “Fuck!” he screamed in pain, pulling it close to him as he scrambled away.

The lighting fixtures flickered but remained on as who Vittoria imagined being the goddess Nemesis stood between the doorway to the firm and to Sawyer’s former safe haven. The woman was dressed in a dark navy blazer and skirt with a white undershirt. Circular glasses were falling down the bridge of her nose as her hateful gaze met Sawyer’s beady one. She had a straight-cut bob that fell beneath her chin, her hair grey in a way that demonstrated that too many people annoyed her in her lifetime. For a moment, her heart sank because that's what she could imagine her Mama to look like if she had lived that long. “You motherfucking son of a bitch!”

She even curses like Mama, well she has an accent. It sounded southern to her but with an air that she couldn't quite place. Despite being more or less terrified of everyone around her, she was unafraid of the woman. And she’s right. “Marie, you psychotic cunt, get the fuck out!”

The woman stormed right up to him and put her finger in her face. “HOW DARE YOU?! BRINGING HIM BACK!”

“It’s none of your business anymore, now get out! Call security!” he shouted at his poor shaking assistant.

“This entire case is my business! How much did it cost you to sell what you pass off as a soul?”

Vittoria giggled and right when she did, she clapped her hands to her mouth. The red-eyed gazes shifted to her, puffs of air coming out from their noses and mouths. “Oh...another one of your spawn’s spawn?” she sneered.

“No!” Vittoria protested, “I’m not related to him!”

The thought of being related to Sawyer revolted her to her core. “How fortunate for you.”

“I think so,” she smiled.

“Didn’t I tell you to be quiet? You lost that five bucks,” he seethed.

Damn.

“Who’s the kid?”

“I’ve been kidnapped!” she cried dramatically, wiping the remaining wetness from her eyes, “He’s a predator!”

Sawyer jumped, “No, she’s not! I did not!”

Her words seemed to be more terrifying than what the woman, Marie, threw at him. “You sick son of a-are you prostituting kids now?”

“ENOUGH!” he shouted, “Where’s that damn security?!”

“Because that’s the only way you can get rid of me, huh? Not in court but by men bigger than you to do your dirty work. Hell, you’re not even the boss. You don’t call the shots! You worthless piece of shit! How can you stand to look at yourself?”

“I ask him the same thing every day,” Vittoria shook her head sorrowfully.

“I’m this close,” he pinched his fingers and left a barely visible space between them, “To cutting out your tongue.”

Vittoria stepped back in fear. “Threatening bodily harm to a six-year-old? You really are a jack shit lawyer-”

“I’m nine actually. I’m just small,” Vittoria added. That information wasn't relevant but Vittoria thought it was.

“He also threw a paperweight at me,” she said pointing to the ball that stood still on the floor, “It hurt.”

“Oh...and assault. You really can’t get any lower,” Marie hissed, “I hope you can afford a good lawyer. I’d offer, but I despise you and I hate to take lost causes.”

Shivers rolled down her spine as she heard Sawyer grind his teeth. “Go back to the pits of hell where you belong, or whatever they’re calling Chicago these days, and maybe I won’t charge you for trespassing,” he snapped at the woman.

Marie scoffed, “You were so close to being free of him. And you brought him back, you pathetic worm.”

She could tell that dug into Sawyer deep. “He’s been a-,” he began to defend before eyeing Vittoria, “No. Just get out. I’ve got work to do.”

He retreated back to his seat and stepped on the puzzle she had been working on. No… Marie scowled at him, “You’re gonna end up dead one day.”

“We all do,” Sawyer sighed.

Anger rolled off Marie before her eyes met Vittoria’s. “Are you really okay, kid? You need any help?”

“I’ll survive,” she said politely.

Marie nodded. “If you ever need a good lawyer, don’t call him. He’s terrible, I should know, I was married to him,” she smirked, her eyes glowing with vindication at Sawyer whose own hazel eyes were full of hostility, “And I also beat his ass in court.”

Vittoria gasped. She was starry-eyed and already adored her, unknowing that this was the woman who convicted her father. Sawyer was glowering at her over papers, “ I’m meeting one of his ex-wives! “You poor woman. I’m so sorry,” she said with true genuineness, before clarifying her statement, “For being married to him. Not for beating him.”

Vittoria giggled at the last part. I love her. She’s mean to Sawyer. I’d do anything for her. She reminds me so much of Mama. With a last smile, she pushed by the security guards who finally arrived. Ooooh, Sawyer’s gonna fire them. Part of her was sad to see her go, knowing that Sawyer would wring her neck soon. For a moment, she had been transported back to how it was with her mother. It was probably a good thing Marie didn’t stay, otherwise, Vittoria most certainly would’ve imprinted on her and followed her around like a little duckling. “Can I be her?” she asked dreamily.

“No,” Sawyer said in a cold tone, “Come sit here.”

Vittoria obeyed and climbed into the large leather seat across from him, letting her legs swing back and forth as they couldn’t touch the ground. Wow, I feel like a grown-up. Sawyer put down his pen and looked at her. He wasn’t angry, just thoughtful and that confused her. He sighed and got up to open a globe in the corner of the room, “Whoa!”

Inside was an assortment of drinks and liquors that were half-empty. Beautiful amber-brown liquids filled the crystal cruet set, and Sawyer took the liberty to pour himself a drink. Sawyer closed the globe and gripped his glass and another empty one. Sawyer paused in front of a cabinet before opening the bottom door that revealed a mini-fridge. The cold air whooshed out when he pulled the door open, featuring rows of sodas, sparkling in their cans. “Rootbeer, black cherry, or strawberry?”

“What?” she whispered.

“Which one?” he asked again, gesturing to the sodas.

“Papa...Papa won’t let me. He won’t even let me have juice,” she frowned.

Sawyer shrugged, “Fine then…”

“Wait!” she called out before he closed the door.

She bit her lip. This is wrong. Maybe he’s doing this as a trap...but I’ve never had soda before. What if we get in a car crash on our way home and I die never having a soda?! No...Papa won’t let me and I have to be good for him, so no...I can’t have soda. And that’s that. “I’ll have the strawberry one please,” she said aloud and watched him pour the brown fizzing drink into a glass and hand it to her.

I can hear the bubbles! Vittoria felt giddy, excited to have something forbidden and sweet. Something she’d always wanted to try! A smile spread across her face as she put it up to her mouth, the foam and bubbles tickling her nose and causing her to sneeze. “Achoo!”

She wrinkled her nose to get rid of the itch as she pressed the thick crystal rim to her lips and tilted the glass back, allowing the sweet bubbly drink to drip into her mouth and leave a burning sensation down her throat. Vittoria coughed, “It burns!”

“That’s the carbonation,” Sawyer said plainly as he sat down again, “Vittoria...you know how we hate each other?”

She blinked, surprised at how honest he was being. “Yes…”

“Hm, well you know how we both love your father very much? And want him to be happy and safe?”

“Yes,” she said again, her voice worried.

“That woman who came in, my ex-wife, she doesn’t want that. She doesn’t want your father to be happy and she’s one of the people who believe lies about him. In fact, Marie is one of the people who spread those lies,” he scowled.

It was the first time she ever believed something Sawyer said. It was said with such a raw intensity that he couldn’t be lying to her, or at least lying to her entirely. “What?” she whispered.

“Vittoria, she’s not our friend. You can’t trust her and the moment she finds out you’re his daughter, she’ll want to exploit that, you. Marie will stop at nothing and will use you to take him down, which is why you can never tell her anything. Please, never talk to her again,” he said seriously.

“But...but she was nice,” she mumbled, to me.

Sawyer rolled his eyes, “Well this isn’t about us. It’s about protecting your father. So can you put our differences aside and treat her as what she is? A threat to our family?”

An alliance with Sawyer? She never wanted to agree with him on anything, but the way he was speaking set her nerves on alert. He means it...he’s serious. “Yes,” she agreed, “Anything for Papa. I-I don’t want to see him get hurt…”

“Good,” Sawyer nodded, “Then it’s agreed. You won’t speak to Marie or about her, ever again.”

“Agreed.”

“You are a smart girl, then,” he grinned, “One more thing, let me tell your father everything.”

“I’ll let you if you give me back my five dollars.”

“Not a chance.”

“I’ll go home and say it anyway,” she reasoned.

“Two dollars.”

“Three.”

“Two and a strawberry tab.”

“Three,” she insisted.

He narrowed his eyes, “Fine.”

“Thank you, Mr. Sawyer,” she said pleasantly.

Sawyer smiled greasily and leaned forward against his desk, holding out his drink. Vittoria took her cue and tapped her glass against his, a sweet clink, sounding out as they toasted. As she took a sip of her soda, she couldn’t help feeling like she made a deal with the devil.

[rome5683]

My Secret Mate - Chapter One

-this is an original piece, not a work of fanfiction-

I sighed to myself, slightly dreading what today would bring as I sat up in bed. I started getting ready, thinking of what would happen by the end of my birthday. The thought of having someone to love wasn't troubling, but not being able to choose who they were was. I didn't mind about gender, but their personality. What if they liked country, or if they hated reggaeton? What if they were human?

Human mates weren't exactly rare, but also not very common at all. It was just harder to explain, harder to connect with certain things, though many others with human mates in my pack made it look easy. It must be horrible, maybe. Would it really matter? As soon as I found my mate, I'd be like a hormonal and love-driven twelve year old all over again. It wasn't always something to look forward to, but when I would look at the pairs in my pack, I longed for that understanding and love.

I stepped out of the steaming shower, drying myself off with a towel before applying some lotion. Hygiene was important, after all. I put my boxers on, then flossed and brushed my teeth as hard as I could. Anything could happen today.

Mouth wash, cologne, a black crew neck and ripped black jeans later, I was almost ready for today. I slipped on some black doc martens, before glancing myself at the mirror and undecided about what to do with my hair. It was a black and curly mess, but I simply ruffled it and shrugged it off.

I walked downstairs, slightly confused when I saw my mom and dad bickering over something in whisper. I was used to tuning people out to be polite, and it was rude to eavesdrop even though we couldn't help hearing what everybody was up to most of the time. Instead of trying to listen in, I speculated it was about the party I planned for tonight, they promised to stay away for the night after opening up the party with ground rules and cutting the birthday cake. I had passed out fliers last week, so a lot of people from the pack and my high school were going. I was excited, the big eighteen was here, but I was still dreading finding my mate. What if they were cruel? What if they rejected me first? They were too many factors that had me buzzing with nervousness.

Mom gave me a stern look as I sat down in front of a plate of pancakes, "Xavi," her small accent barely showed on the usual, but when she said my name like that, it was prominent. The usual spelling of my popular name was with a 'J', but my mom decided to be original and put an 'X' instead. Most kids pronounced it wrong which I didn't mind, but if my mom heard them pronounce it differently, she would lose her shit. "I know it's your birthday, but you still need to eat your oats and your vegetables." She placed a bowl of oatmeal and a different bowl of carrots in front of me.

I groaned, "Can't you just give me bacon like dad?"

My dad smirked, biting into the strip of his bacon with a satisfied moan. I rolled my eyes and my mom shrugged, "Or we could cancel the party. It's up to you."

I scowled, biting the carrot with emphasized distaste. It was funny at times, how my petite mom could control us so easily with a simple look or statement, but she was no joke. She was the scariest, most loving mother around. The fact I was having this party was a miracle, but I guess she was feeling extra loving when she had said yes. Or maybe she thought it'd be better to find my mate with everybody from school there.

"So, you excited for today?"

I raised an eyebrow, "Yeah. I mean, it's gonna be the biggest party ever. And right at the beginning of October, it's gonna be sick."

My dad scoffed, "You know that's not what she meant."

My mom sucked in her teeth, scolding me. "Are you seriously not looking forward to meeting your mate?"

I shrugged, "I don't know. I mean, I don't wanna be someone I'm not just because I met them. Do I even have a choice in loving them? If I reject them, pain. If they reject me, pain. What's the point? Why is this even a thing?"

My dad sighed, "I know what you mean. Your mom and I had a very complicated start, but it worked out. It can suck, feeling like you don't have a choice at times. But the moon goddess knew what she was doing, and we're really good together."

"But it's like they have control over you!" I felt the frustration engulf me, making me dread the moment I'd meet them. "Everything they do is gonna affect me, and it just isn't fair."

My mom placed a hand on my shoulder as I continued to eat, and my parents were silent as I stood up to put my dishes in the sink. The whole tension dissipated as my two siblings walked into the room, and my parents perked up. Monsè entered the room with a yawn, all dressed up for school in a baggy sweater and skinny jeans. She was fifteen, and usually rode with me to school. My brother, Lance, was just sixteen, a year and a couple months older than Monsè, and liked to ride with his friend Keith.

"Good morning!" My mom chirped as she placed their plates on the table, asking if they were going to attend the party and that if they screwed up anything, to make sure to let her know because she hated secrets.

I motioned to my sister to hurry up as I got my backpack by the door, and got the keys from a little dish next to the couch. I leaned against the arm of the sofa, taking out my phone and texting Lindsay to wait for me to pick her up before she went to school. She was my best friend, and was practically my sandbox buddy since we were four. I usually went to her before anyone else, she had a good level-head on her shoulders, and was better for asking advice than most of my other male friends. I also made sure to text Trent, my other good friend and his sister, Bella, my occasional hook-up (make-out session) when I was lonely, to meet up at our usual cafe. They were all werewolves, so it was easy to confide and trust in them. A tap on the shoulder made me turn, and I ruffled my sister's hair. "Let's get going, gremlin."

She whispered with a scowl, "Yeah, okay bitch."

"MONSE! YOU BETTER PRAY YOU GET IN THE CAR BEFORE I GET TO YOU!"

Her eyes widened before she sprinted out the door, and I chuckled as I followed her into the car. My car was a truck, so it was a little difficult for Monsè to climb in the passenger side, but she managed. I connected my phone to the aux cord and put my playlist on. My sister rolled her eyes as 'Take Me Out' by Franz Ferdinand played, though I could see her tapping her feet to the beat which made me smirk.

Lindsay jumped in the backseat with ease, "Hey, boomer. Hey, Monsè."

"Hey, Lindsay!" Monsè chirped energetically and turned around, smiling with a blush spreading over her cheeks.

I laughed, "Where's my gift?"

"Oh." She pretended to pull something out of her backpack, then pulled out her middle finger with a Cheshire grin. "Almost forgot."

Monsè laughed, holding the back of her hand against her mouth.

"Oh, thanks. Was missing that in my life, actually." I looked in the rear view mirror, noticing she didn't have her seatbelt. I kept driving down the street towards the cafe, it was an hour before school, around six pm, which was why the street wasn't that full and I felt confident to be able to pull a prank on her.

"Brake check!" I suddenly braked as I pulled into the lot, having Lindsay hit her head on the passenger seat with a loud screech. Monsè gasped, her seatbelt scratching against her neck as she was pulled forward.

"Agh! Son of a bitch-"

"Xavi! What the hell?" Monsè gave me a dirty look.

"I'm so sorry, guys. You okay?" I made my voice sound sickening sweet, and high pitched in order to sound as fake as possible. Monsè snickered lowly, not wanting to be so upfront about laughing at Lindsay. Lindsay was somewhat of a role model for her, and they talked all the time. I low-key suspected Monsè had a crush on her, which was cute but slightly sad since Lindsay was way too old for her. But, who knows?

We pulled up to our usual cafe at the corner of Maple and Lunescape. I parked in front, all of us talking about what we'll order when we get inside as we got off the car.

Lindsay huffed, "See, I haven't tried the pecan pie shake, but I also haven't tried the Pumpkin Maple Syrup Mocha, which I hear a lot of good things about.

I hummed in thought, "Well, it depends who you're hearing this from. They could be trying to sabotage you."

Monsè scoffed, "And why would they do that, Xavi?"

I shrugged, "Hey, you never know. Plus, pecan is a legit flavor and it can never really do you wrong."

Lindsay sighed, "Yeah, but I get pecan like every other day. I've never tried the pumpkin one... Oh, the tough choices in life. They plague me."

Monsè chuckled, "However will you survive?"

I shook my head as I held the door to the cafe open for them, "You're too indecisive. Just go for it if it's bothering you that badly. If anything, I'll drink it if you don't like the pumpkin."

Lindsay gasped, "Oh my god, yes!"

She raced to the counter along with Monsè as I saw Trent and Bella wave me over to their booth. I approached them with a grin, giving Trent a high five and a fist bump, while nodding my head towards Bella in acknowledgement.

"Trent. Bells. How's everything?" I sat across from them, scooting towards the window.

Trent shrugged, "Nothing new. How about you, birthday boy? Excited to find your mate?"

Bells smiled, "Happy birthday, by the way."

"Thanks." I glanced over to Lindsay and Monsè to see them walking over with our drinks and pastries, "About the mate thing, it's whatever. Whether it happens or not, I'm fine."

Trent scoffed, "You're so weird, sometimesc. Everyone else in the pack looks forward to this their whole lives." He took an angry bite of his chocolate muffin, then swallowed before continuing. "I mean, even humans write stories about this kinda shit!"

Lindsay giggled as she squeezed into the booth on my side with Monsè, "Talking about mates again?"

I glanced at Bella, noticing she was intentionally staying silent. She looked up at me and blushed suddenly when our eyes met. I looked away, sighing exasperatedly. "Dude, I just don't think it's cool how we're forced to love someone. We have no choice but to be attracted to them."

Monsè groaned, "Because they're perfect for you!"

"Well, it's not really love at first sight. It's more like you subtly like them, and as you get to know them, you start to fall in love. Like normal people. Just think of it as a suggestion that they might be good for you." Bella smiles encouragingly, placing a hand on mine. "I'm sure your mate will be lovely."

I hastily pulled away, annoyed with the conversation. Seeing the slight expression of hurt on her face from the corner of my eye made me feel guilty, but I ignored the feeling. "I'm just gonna flat-out reject them, I honestly don't care."

Trent winced, "Isn't that supposed to be super painful?"

"He's always been a masochist." Lindsay rolled her eyes, sipping her Pumpkin Maple Syrup Mocha with glee.

Bella murmured under her breath, "Not really."

Everyone suddenly groaned, and I gave a small and playful glare to Bella.

Monsè faked a gag, "I just started my life. Please don't make me commit the 'not-alive' so soon."

Trent made a low growl, pulling his head back and closing his eyes as he faced the ceiling in an overdramatic manner. "Please tell me you guys aren't fooling around anymore. I do not wanna picture that."

Silence. He glared pointedly at me, "Are you?”

I stayed quiet, simply eating my strawberry and cheese croissant as I also avoided eye contact.

Trent cursed, "Fuck, man! Dude, she's my twin! How could you make out with someone that looks like me?"

I gave him a deadpanned stare as I sipped my boysenberry pie shake. The only sound was the slurping from my straw, and Trent narrowed his eyes at my both nonchalant and smug face. Bella looked at him confused, "We're fraternal, not identical."

He scowled, "Identical or not, this stops today. One, you guys are gonna have mates who you might not reject. Two, she's my sister. It's not cool, man. Three, do you not remember why you guys stopped fooling around in the first place?"

Bella's glared at her brother, "That was before."

Trent gave her a deadpanned stare this time, "Sure it was."

I shook my head, hating the awkward atmosphere that suddenly entered the booth. Last year, Bella had caught feelings during our arrangement, which caused a lot of confusion for me, and hurt for her. I ended it promptly after a huge scolding from her brother about playing around with her. He was the future beta of our pack, so I had to listen. But then she said she was over it now, so of course I believed her, since she was also a beta and somewhat had to believe her. But I wasn't that sure now.

I broke the awkward silence, "It's not like I'm sleeping with her, Trent. And even if I wanted to, I'm gonna reject my mate today. Maybe then I could choose who I wanna be with, whether it be physically or for life."

He took another angry bite, speaking with his mouth full, "Anf shwat if she doeshnt reshect hersh?"

I shrugged, "Thats up to her. Either way, I'd be free to do what I want."

Bella smiled to herself, and I cursed internally. I didn't want to hurt her, and I almost wanted to call it quits right then and there, but not for the reason you think, not for my 'mate'. Even though I could be physically 'lonely', it didn't mean I wanted to be forced to be with someone, whether it be Bella or my mate. The worst part was, there was no guarantee that I could reject my mate. Though I was determined to, there's no way to be able to predict what I'll think or act when I meet them. Though, the same thing could happen with Bella, so in reality, we were both in the same boat. Except I didn't have feelings for her in that way, I didn't have a desire to be in a relationship with her. She is physically appealing, but that was it. Sometimes I thought there was something wrong with me, she was kind and smart. Who wouldn't fall in love with her?

Me.

Lindsay changed the subject with ease, "So who's ready for that statistics test today?"

Trent groaned, "Is that today?"

Monsè went on her phone, not entirely interested or knowledgeable about what we were talking about since she was two grades lower than us. Bella shrugged, "I take AP calculus, so can't relate.

I smirked, "I studied, hard."

Lindsay raised an eyebrow, "That's a first."

I shrugged, "I wanna change my fate. I'm changing my life, one step at a time." Trent snickered as he heard my claims, "First, better than average grades. Second, no mate."

Monsè laughed, "Good luck with that one."

I scowled, "Mark my words. By the end of today, my mate is going to be rejected."

Monsè gave a cynical smile and a thumbs up, "Yeah, you're cool." Her smile dropped into a stoic face, "Can we go to school now before we're late? We've been here for forty minutes-"

I nodded, grabbing my keys and shooing them, Lindsay and Monsè, off my side of the booth. Trent and Bella stood up, walking with us outside.

"How about we make a bet Lindsay?"

She huffed, "You really think you'll win?"

I raised my eyebrows up and down with a grin, "Whoever gets a higher grade on the statistics test wins. Whoever loses has to drink five shots of tequila tonight."

Lindsay smirked, "You're on, bitch."

"Hell yeah." Trent patted me on the shoulder, "I'll join you guys in that."

I shook my head, knowing there was barely a chance for him to win. Not that he was an idiot or anything, but he didn't really try a lot in school. He rarely studied, but he always managed to get a passing grade. A higher score than Lindsay or me, though? Not really. "You know you only wanna take shots."

He shrugged, "Maybe. Or maybe I just wanna beat your ass."

I sighed, "Never gonna happen."

Trent chuckled, "What if I used my awesome beta powers to force you to lose?"

I scoffed, "They're barely worth anything. I'd just tell Ryder you're abusing your power."

Ryder was our pack's, which was named Blood Moon after his great-grandfather's threatening intimidating ways, future alpha. He was cool, and we hung out with him every other day, but right now he was out of town with his parents for a little family bonding. Since he was going to find his mate soon, his parents wanted to spend some more time with him. That's what they told the pack, at least, but Trent had told me that there might have been more to it, like how the humans were suspicious of something. I didn't pay too much mind, Trent was known to have conspiracy theories from time to time.

"He'd just join me!" Trent laughed.

I grinned as I unlocked the car for Lindsay and Monsè, "Fuck yeah, he would. But at least then it'd be a fair fight."

Trent flipped me off as he unlocked his car too, opening the door for his sister. "Race you to school?"

I shrugged as I sat down and closed the door, starting the car. I rolled the window down with a nonchalant expression, "For twenty?"

"I'm feeling charitable. Make it forty."

I smirked, "On your mark."

His face went into panic as he raced to his side, "I'm not even in the car yet-"

I raised a brow, "Get set."

He jumped into the driver's side, slamming the door.

"Go!" His engine roared to life as I reversed out of the lot, swerving to go forward towards the school. I wasn't confident I'd win, his car was faster than mine, which was why I cheated and took a small head start. He had a black sports car, I didn't really know what kind and I didn't care. My truck could be fast if I pushed the limit, which was okay since there wasn't a lot of people on the road. Save for some here and there.

Trent passed me with ease, smirking my way. I huffed, pressing the gas harder.

Lindsay held onto the dash board, "Damn, you really wanna win, huh?"

Monsè chuckled, "It's nice to see how testosterone can be fun."

I clenched my jaw, focused on the cars ahead of us. I didn't wanna break any laws besides maybe the speed limit, so I changed lanes to the right. It was a small detour, but with the red light, I could turn into another street and possibly beat him.

I laughed as I turned into another street, him stuck on the same one. I turned left, waiting for the green light, then left again. I sped more seeing the school just ahead, skidded just ahead of Trent's car, and into the lot with ease.

I parked right by the entrance, turning off the engine as I hopped out of the car. I saw Trent's car pull into the space next to me right after I pulled into mine, and I grinned smugly as I leaned against my car. He sighed, closing his car door and sauntered over with hurt pride.

"Listen..."

I held back a laugh, biting my lip. "I'm all ears."

"You're an asshole. And you cheated so..."

I held my hands up, "You never spoke about any rules, so..."

"Well-"

"Yeah?"

"I don't have forty on me right now-"

"What do you have, Trent?" I furrowed my brows, and squared my shoulders. I was putting on a front, of course. I held my hand out expectantly.

Lindsay placed her arm on my left shoulder as she cocked her head, "Yeah, Trent. What do you have?"

Monsè and Bella walked over, grinning at the spectacle. Trent wasn't always one to lose in our races, so it was a rare sight to see, which was why I was being so smug.

He rolled his eyes and sighed, pulling a twenty and a ten out of his wallet. He slapped them into my hand, "Fuck you."

I smiled, "Maybe when I reject my mate."

Trent playfully punched my shoulder, "Don't threaten me with a good time."

Lindsay shook her head, "You guys are something else."

Bella patted my shoulder, "So, you guys are a cute couple."

"Hey. Are you making fun of us?" We walked through the door and into the first hallway, and the faintest smell of something amazing filled my nose. I couldn't tell what it was, but something in me just had to find out.

"Maybe." She held her hands behind her back with a sly smile, "So wanna meet up during study hall?"

My wolf stirred, his gruff voice echoing in my mind. Mate. I froze, my heart skipping a beat. I could sense it. They were here.

"Hey, man. You good?" Trent's voice faded into the background.

I don't know what it was that made me ignore her and lightly jog down the hall. When I turned into another hallway, the smell got stronger, and I jogged a little faster. I could detect apple cinnamon, but not the strong kind, the kind you eat in oatmeal, and maybe some... I couldn't pinpoint the other smell. I walked into another hallway, I wasn't even focused on where I was at this point, and came up to a row of lockers. One locker was open, and I knew the smell was coming from there... from them.

The locker closed. My breath hitched, and I saw the most beautiful male I've ever seen in my life. I could hear my inner wolf howl at the sight of him. His hair was chocolate brown, and a straight, disheveled mess. He had a slight fade on the side of his hair, and his eyes were a solid dark green. His complexion was slightly pale but very clear, with prominent cheekbones, and with the slightest plump to his lips. His jaw was pretty clean, not super sharp to stand out, but enough to be defined. He wasn't much shorter than me, maybe by an inch, and his stature was slightly less muscular than mine. He was wearing a blue long sleeved v-neck, blue skinny jeans, and some vans. He looked to me, startled to see me blatantly staring at him, and I blinked in realization. Oh god. Oh no, fuck no. He's human. I can't just reject him without being a weirdo now. Why? I didn't expect my mate to be so... fucking ravishing. That's not the point. Jesus help me.

"Hey! Um, you must be wondering what I'm doing here... staring at you."

He let out a melodic laugh during the awkward tension, "A little bit, yeah."

"Well, I was gonna, um," I came to a blank, speaking without really thinking, "I was wondering if you heard about this party I'm having tonight."

His eyebrows raised a little, "I think I've heard about it, yeah."

"Oh, cool." I leaned against the lockers, biting my lip without really wanting to. I was flirting without even meaning to, "So, you going?"

"Maybe." He shrugged, "I'm not really sure."

I chuckled, "You see, it's my birthday. So you kind of have to go."

He laughed, "Is that so? Happy birthday, then."

"Thanks. Yeah, it'd be kind of a dick move not to go." I liked the playful banter, I felt my heart beat faster, and a warm feeling spread throughout my body.

"What if I want to be a dick?" That made me laugh, maybe a little harder than I should.

"Well... damn. That sucks. I was hoping I'd get to know you." His expression changed from playful to astonished, and maybe a slight blush forming on his face. Maybe. "No. Wait. That came out wrong. I mean, it's my senior year, and I wanna... meet new people. Broaden my horizons..."

"Oh. Yeah, no. I get it." He leaned his shoulder against the locker, tapping his finger against his backpack strap in thought. "Um, I'll think about it."

"Yeah." I walked a little backwards, "You better, because it's my birthday, so..."

He nodded, a smirk lining his face as he turned away. Jesus, even his backside was attractive. I felt a part of me curse, and a part of me felt so elated right now. I wanted to go punch something, to run and jump, I couldn't decide.

The warning bell for first period rang, and I tensed. Statistics was next. I'd have to answer why I ran off, though I suspected they knew the answer why.

I walked in just in time, sitting next to my usual seat next to Lindsay, Trent, and some girl whose name I could hardly remember. She was friendly, I guess.

I looked around, wondering if he was in my class. Was he in any of my other classes? The fact I'd never noticed him before should be illegal. A snap in my face got my attention, and I looked to Lindsay in confusion.

"What's up?" She frowned at me, practically glaring.

"What's up? What do you mean, 'what's up'?" She scoffed, her auburn hair swaying to the side as she looked to Trent as if to make sure she wasn't tripping out. She raised her pierced eyebrow at me, "What was earlier all about?"

I sighed, knowing I couldn't exactly lie to her. I debated on staying quiet, but knew she'd just bother me until I fessed up. "I met them."

She gasped excitedly, "You're kidding!"

"Miss Pierce! Is there something you'd like to share as I do roll-call?" Mr. Damocles was a burly man, frowning as he pushed up his glasses. Trent snickered.

Lindsay sighed, "Sorry, Mr. Damocles."

He continued to do roll-call, and she spoke in a whisper. "So, tell me what happened."

"Tell us." Trent corrected her.

I shook my head, mostly disappointed in my lack of resolve when it came to wanting to reject my mate. "I don't know his name..."

Lindsay's eyes widened, "It's a guy. Oh my god, yes. Was he cute?"

I failed to hide my smile, "Yeah. He had these eyes..." Thinking about them made my stomach do flips, "And his lips. Jesus, I couldn't believe I never noticed him before."

Trent scoffed, a smirk tugging at his lips. "You are so whipped. What happened? Did you... you know?"

I looked down, not really knowing if I planned to anymore. If I even wanted to anymore.

"Xavier Ramon."

I raised my hand, signaling my presence. Mr. Damocles continued roll-call, and Lindsay groaned impatiently.

"Well? What happened?"

I scratched the back of my neck, "I, uh..." I closed my eyes, slightly embarrassed as I replayed the scene in my head. "I asked him to the party tonight."

I heard a small chuckle, and I frowned at both Lindsay and Trent. "What?"

She looked to Trent with a grin, "I give it a month before he marks him."

"I give it three." He shrugged, "It takes time to build up a relationship like that."

"It doesn't have to happen during sex, Trent. It can be during a make out session or something."

I scoffed, "Nobody said I was going to accept him right off the bat-"

"But you're not rejecting him either." Trent smugly grabbed paper from the girl passing them out, and passed them to us as well. "So three months it is. Denial is a huge factor."

"I change mine to a month and a half."

I rolled my eyes, "Well, they're human, so it's a little more difficult. Plus, I just wanna know who I'm rejecting before I... reject them."

They both laughed, and I cursed under my breath. This whole mate situation was going to be a bitch.

——

@kaiparker-islife @fandom-strumpet @1-800-khaleesii @kaiparkercumslut @itssdiana

Pls reblog, like, and review ❤️

[snowdice]

Gaps in His Files (Part 4) [Relabeled; Refiled Series]

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Relationships: Logan/Patton

Characters:

Main: Logan, Patton

Appear: Remy, Virgil (but only in the epilogue)

Summary:

Logan Berry has learned many things the last 10 years: a lot of math and physics, a bit of humility, and how to be a hero being just a few. Through his education, his experience teaching, and his exploits as the superhero Bluebird, he’s changed in a lot of small and large ways. He has recorded these changes in well-organized documents and files. He’s even had to create two new file designations: a red one for files about his moonlighting at Bluebird, and a light blue one dedicated to his boyfriend, Patton.

When Bluebird is targeted by a memory device and all of those 10 years of progress suddenly disappear, Patton Sanders and Logan’s extensive files are left as his only resource to get those memories back. But what is Patton supposed to do when there are clear gaps in his files? And what does he do when he is one of them?

This is set 25 years before Sometimes Labels Fail though it’s story is completely independent of it and it is not necessary to read that one first.

Notes: Superhero AU, memory loss, past child abuse, past child neglect, unhealthy ideas about ones place in relationships, emotional suppression, self-deprecating thoughts, medical procedures mentioned, very brief unhealthy views of sex

Does anyone see the Easter Egg in here? Probably not. It’s pretty vague...

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Patton did not like driving Logan’s “special car.” It didn’t matter what position he put the seat in, he still either couldn’t reach the pedals or he felt like he was too scrunched up; the radio was (somehow) only set up to receive the local news station as well as some weird station that only ran a program detailing crop growing strategies which Patton thought must be some sort of cover for a channel sending messages in code (at least he really hoped it was because otherwise its existence was an affront to humanity); and he’d accidentally zapped himself with electricity while trying to adjust the temperature twice in the past and he still didn’t know if that was a feature or faulty wiring and Logan had refused to give an argument that convinced him either way. Not to mention, the car didn’t legally exist. If Patton got pulled over in this thing, what was he supposed to tell the police? Sorry, my boyfriend doesn’t have insurance, I’m pretty sure he built this death trap himself out of scrap metal because I can’t even discern the make and model.

“The corn! THE CORN,” the radio spewed.

“Yes, the corn,” Patton spat back. “I know. I heard you the first time.” Unfortunately, today, listening to the corn channel was better than listening to the news. The local news station continued to discuss and theorize what had happened earlier that afternoon over and over until Patton couldn’t take it anymore.

A memory gun had hit Logan. It had been a theory at first considering the things Lightwave and Logan had said along with the fact that Logan hadn’t seemed to remember how to fly, and had been all but confirmed a couple of hours ago when news that the police had investigated the dropped weapon leaked. Which all meant Logan was out there floundering with no idea what was going on or who he was. Patton wondered how much was gone. Had it erased all of his memories? Did he even know his name? He’d known enough to be able to use his powers, but was that instinct and muscle memory?

The theorizing on the local news station just made Patton’s blood pressure spike more with every passing second. Not that turning off the radio and being left alone with his own thoughts was much better. So…

“Crop rotation!”

Patton was the only person who knew Bluebird’s secret identity (at least, as far as Logan had told him.) Well… Remy might have guessed, but he hadn’t been officially told, and Patton doubted he���d be any help anyway. So, Patton was the only person who could really look for him. Sure, he was certain the police were searching (as well as some doubtlessly more dangerous people), but Patton was the only one who knew Logan.

You don’t know this Logan.

His Logan would have gone back to his apartment or maybe Patton’s if he were injured.

Patton gripped the steering wheel tighter. Okay. Maybe this Logan didn’t know where his apartment was. Maybe he didn’t know who Patton was. But he was still Logan, and Logan was rational and, more importantly, predictable. Patton would bet that in a circumstance where he knew nothing about what was going on, he would default to general survival tactics and what had he ranted and ranted to Patton about when they’d watched that one survival movie? Follow the water. Water is where you find food and shelter and almost certainly civilization if you follow it downstream. Sure, that was for when someone was lost in a forest or something, not already in a city, but Patton hoped he’d fallen into that strategy despite that, at least until he thought up something else better.

That’s why Patton had been driving up and down the river for the past few hours looking for anything suspicious and listening to someone blather on about corn. He pulled up underneath a bridge. It was a little bit away from the hustle and bustle of the city, but near enough to get to a more populated area quicklym and it had some good shelter around because there were trees. Patton bit his lip. If he thought like Logan, this would be a good place to stop. He decided to get out of the car and go out on foot for a bit.

Before exiting the car, he checked to make sure the mask was still in place. It felt strange on his face; he never really wore one. He clicked the locking mechanism which made the lights flash once but didn’t beep. He turned and froze when he met eyes under the bridge. The stranger didn’t speak but watched Patton intently from what looked like a makeshift house under the corner of the bridge. Patton edged out from beneath the bridge and headed toward the riverbanks. His shoes sunk into the mud a bit. It was starting to get dark which made it hard for him to search for things that looked out of place, especially when he was unfamiliar with the area. He was just running on blind Logan behavior instinct at this point. It was also starting to get cold. Patton hoped Logan had chosen to wear the winter super suit or he’d found a coat or something.

He wandered, looking into dark places and listening for any sounds beyond the river crashing into the banks. Around 15 minutes into his walk, his eyes caught on a large rock in front of a drainage pipe. Perfect, Logan’s voice said in his head. Patton crept over to check it out. No one was there, but it looked like someone had been recently by a smear of mud near the base of the rock that looked like someone’s foot had slipped there. Okay. He peered around him carefully, walking back toward the river. He had the sudden feeling of being watched. Up. He looked up at a small ledge along the bank and sighed in relief. “Thank god.”

Logan stumbled back a step when he realized Patton had seen him and turned tail to run again.

“Wait, L-” he cut himself off. He couldn’t risk it just in case someone was listening. There was a reason he had the mask and the car after all. Patton was the only one who knew his identity and Logan wanted to keep it that way. He thought quickly, head latching onto a story he’d been told one night curled up against a half-asleep Logan. “I’m Devora the Mood Goddess?” he tried.

Logan paused and turned to face him. “You know me,” he said peering at him from behind the mask still on his face.

Patton nodded, shoulders dropping in relief. “I do.” He offered a hand. “Come with me?”

He looked at the offered hand and then at Patton’s face. There was a moment of silence and then he nodded slowly and took a few steps down toward Patton. Patton grabbed hold of his arm when he got close enough, loosely so as not to startle him even though he wanted to latch on and never let go. Something loosed in Patton’s chest at the contact.

“Who are you?” Logan asked, accepting the touch, though he looked at Patton’s hand on his arm in confusion.

“In the car okay,” Patton requested. He nodded after a moment. “Are you okay?”

“I have body aches and from context clues, I assume memory loss,” he said, “but otherwise I feel well enough.”

“Good. Let’s get back to the car.”

They picked their way back toward the bridge through the muddy riverside. Patton groaned softly when there was an unmarked police car parked next to Logan’s car.

“What?” Logan asked at normal volume.

“Shh,” Patton scolded, but it was too late. A flashlight flared to light and turned to them the next second. “Hello Detective,” Patton said wryly. Patton had met Detective Silvia a couple of times, but of course she didn’t know that since Patton was wearing a mask. Logan knew her a bit more as Bluebird. She gave him a very suspicious look that grew almost hostile when she saw Logan was with him.

“Bluebird,” she said.

“So, I’ve come to understand,” Logan replied.

“I’m his friend. I’m here to help,” Patton said.

“Every villain in the city is looking for him, excuse me for not believing your word.” Patton sighed.

“He knows the code word,” Logan said.

She considered him and then shook her head. “I’d still be more comfortable if you came down to the station.”

Logan tilted his head at her. “No,” he said firmly. Then the detective yelped as her feet left the ground.

“Bluebird no!” Patton hissed. “The detective is our friend.”

“She is not my friend,” Logan replied with a frown. “I don’t know her.”

Patton rubbed his temples. “Just get in the car and put her down gently when you do.”

He went without compliant and Patton rounded the car. His eyes fell on the man he’d seen earlier, backed up against the wall with wide eyes. “Thanks for being concerned for him buddy,” Patton said.

They both got in the car and Patton drove away. He saw the detective being placed back on her feet in the rearview mirror. “Well, I’m going to have to send her a fruit basket,” he mumbled under his breath.

Want to read more? Click below!

AO3 Part 5

[the-unshaped]

CHAPTER ONE: WELCOME BACK TO BEACON HILLS

Chapter Text

"How's the first day back?"

Stiles Stilinski grinned as his oldest friend, Scott, slapped a strong hand on his shoulder. After what felt like a million years away from each other, he was back, his best friend standing beside him. It was a fantastic feeling.

Walking into the school was bizarre. He had felt nostalgia in the past but nothing to this extent before. Maybe it was because his last school was so much larger, but it seemed like every year they were making noticeable changes. Beacon Hills, on the other hand, was exactly how he remembered. The same white and black speckled linoleum floors, same painted mascot on the walls, same old lockers, same trophy cases lining the main hall.

Stiles was stoked.

Even the classes he'd taken so far, which would have ordinarily bored him since he'd learned a lot of what they were going over already, left him feeling almost giddy. The teachers didn't seem to share the sentiment, but fuck them. He wasn't going to let Finstock calling him Billinski a million times drag him down today.

Stiles and Scott had met up the day before, his dad surprising him with dinner and his childhood best friend as a gift for finishing all his unpacking, but it was even more exciting to know he was going to see him every day. They had talked at least once a week after Stiles finally broke and got Facebook eighth grade year and even more when they both had online gaming, almost every day. It was like they'd never stopped.

Stiles had been begging his dad to move back since the day they left, and he only got more persistent after his reunion with Scott, but no matter how hard he tried to convince him, no dice. That is until his dad's college friend, Adam Wilder, let him know that the Beacon Hills was offering full ride scholarships to the college of their choice to the top 5 graduates and was in need of a new sheriff. Not even John could refuse that kind of help. Despite his worry that he wouldn't be accepted as a transfer, he took a chance and put in an application. A month later and a million moving boxes later, Stiles was leaving his fancy Sacramento apartment and on his way home.

"Not bad, Scott. I've got Dad, my best bud, and my nightmares of a poorly-aged Lydia can finally be absolved because she is still as much of a goddess as the day I left, dare I say more. All is right with the world," he said, eyeing the lean strawberry blonde haired girl down the hall. Scott winced, and pulled at his lock, freeing it from the metal loop before opening it and shoving his math book inside. "I definitely missed this place. What more could I ask for?”

Scott scoffed and scuffed the toes of his shoes against the floor. "I can't imagine why anyone would miss this place."

Stiles eyed him, unsure if he was playing around or not. Leaving Beacon Hills, for him, felt like tearing off a limb, leaving something messy, jagged and bloody in its place. Sacramento hadn't been bad, per se. He made awesome grades and was in a club or two every year. He had some people that could pass as friends he hung out with occasionally, but it wasn't the same as the life he had in Beacon Hills. Also losing a limb, Stiles had survived the initial pain and adapted, but at the end of the day, he knew that it wasn't there and could feel the ache of its absence.

Stiles knew he was meant to be there. It was where he was born m. Where he learned how to tie his shoes and write his name. Where he and Scott made a terrible mess in the kitchen making treats for a fundraiser, and Melissa made them clean all day after school, scolding them even as she ate the last remaining cupcake. It was home.

The only difference between losing a limb and losing Beacon Hills was that there was always a voice in the back of his mind telling him that he could get it back, if only he could convince his dad. It was only a few hours away, and he would eventually be able to choose where he lived. Luckily he hadn't had to wait that long.

Stiles shrugged off Scott's dismissal. "I'm sure you'd miss it once you left."

Stiles closed his locker, and noticed Scott had gone quiet. He took a peek over his shoulder as he clamped his padlock shut and realized he had his eyes trained on an adorable brunette talking to a fierce looking blonde he had noticed earlier in their math class. Stiles looked between them a dorky smirk spreading across his face.

"You are so obvious, man. Your tail is practically wagging."

Scott's eyes shot up, eyebrows knit together. "What?"

"That girl. The brunette. You have your 'unrequited pining' look on your face," Stiles explained, shutting his locker door. Scott frowned, crossing his arms, even as he snuck another peek at her.

"It's not that obvious," Scott muttered.

"I've literally only been here for," he looked at her phone, then back up at Brennan, "three hours and forty-five minutes and I knew the moment you looked at her."

Stiles looked at Scott's downtrodden face then brightened. "Wait, is that Allison? Like love of your life, scary but amazing, Allison?"

The blonde glanced over at them, smirking at Scott. Stiles didn't seem to notice. Even if he had he would have no reason to suspect that she could hear anything he said, but Scott knew differently. He flushed, wrapping his arm around Stiles shoulder, whipping him around to face the lockers in a huddle.

"Dude," Scott hissed. "Keep it down."

"It is her! Holy crap," Stiles laughed. Scott just pouted, his eyebrows still pulled together.

"Yeah, yeah. You're brilliant. Can you shut up now?"

"Come on. You act like people are listening," Stiles said, craning his head around to look at the near bustling halls. "Trust me, we aren't that interesting."

"Speak for yourself. I'm plenty interesting."

"Oh yeah? Let my go ask how interesting you are," Stiles teased. "Yo, All-!"

Scott clamped a hand over his mouth, and Stiles was quick to retaliate.

"Did you seriously just lick me? How old are you? Stiles. Stop it!"

Scott dropped his hand with a scowl, wiping it on his dark jeans.

"I'll have you know, licking people could solve approximately 80% of the world's problems," Stiles said, hitting Scott suggestively. "Speaking of licking, how the hell did you get so built? I thought you sucked at sports."

Scott's scowl bled into a full blown grin, ignoring Stiles' sexual remark. "That was last year. A lot has changed. Now hurry up or we're going to miss lunch. And please try to control yourself a little, okay?"

Stiles gave him a questioning look, but didn't ask. He followed Scott through the halls, weaving through the people, trying to connect names to old familiar faces. Some people were easier to remember than others. He would catch flashes of memories from t-ball and baseball practices, or stories her dad had told him on the car ride here. He had only ever really been close to Scott before they left, but the familiarity was calming in a way he hadn't expected.

Stiles couldn't help but grin when they pushed through the heavy doors to the cafeteria.

The walls were a less than white white, dull and slightly grimy with age. They had long rectangular tables instead of the faux wood round ones at his old school, but honestly he liked these better, even if it was just a bit too much white all together for his taste. Too much like a hospital.

"Wow it hasn't changed at all," Stiles chirped. "I bet Mrs. Green still has that wild chin hair, too."

As if she could hear him, Mrs. Green looked up at him with a scowl. He waved at her excitedly, a lopsided grin painted on his face, and Scott shook his head in amusement.

"Hi, Mrs. Green!"

As they made their way through the food line, Stiles reminisced over the meatloaf and asked if they still had the breakfast pizza with white gravy and sausage balls he loved so much. Scott couldn't help but get secondhand excitement. It had been so long since he had felt normal like this. Not that he didn't like his life or that he didn't enjoy things the way they were, but having a friend that wasn't constantly caught up in his problems was nicer than he had expected it to be.

Stiles continued chattering excitedly up until the moment Scott sat down. At a table. With people. Very hot people. Stiles looked down at Scott with wide eyes, his mouth agape. Lydia Martin. Scott was friends with Lydia fucking Martin? How had this not made it into their text messages?!

Scott cleared his throat, obviously embarrassed.

"Guys, you remember Stiles, right? Stiles, that's Lydia, Allison, Isaac, Jackson, Boyd, and Erica. Cora normally sits with us but I think she-well, actually I'm not sure where she is today."

Stiles' eyes followed down the line, his face flushing. What the fresh hell? Scott was attractive in a totally platonic, nothing sexual way, and he would be blantantly lying if he said he hadn't noticed how fit he was now, but how the hell did they go from being the lanky dorks in class to Scott having supermodel-esque friends?

He immediately recognized some of the faces. Lydia, obviously. Scary hot blonde and Scott's crush, obviously Allison, from the hallway. Then, if his friends being hot wasn't weird enough, he realized with a start who the thin muscular guy was.

"Jackson. Jackson Whittemore? As in the Jackson Whittemore who shoved my Batman figure down the toilet?"

Stiles shook his head incredulously at Scott, like he had been personally victimized by the very thought of his seating partner, and Scott buried his face in his hands. Allison laughed, a musical sound that he had heard about in many different phone calls.

"You shoved his Batman down the toilet?"

Jackson smirked, shrugging slightly.

"Poor guy. So you were always a dick," Erica teased, peeking over the lip of her glass of water.

"We were like 6. I'm sure he's fine," Jackson said, leveling Stiles with a less than pitying glare.

Stiles muttered the contrary gruffly under his breath.

"You sure look tasty. Why didn't you tell us he was so fine, Scott?"

Stiles flushed at the blonde's words, not knowing how to comment to that. He looked to Scott for help, but he just shrugged as if to say, "she's always like this."

The man beside Erica, Boyd if Stiles recalled correctly, rolled his eyes, a knowing look on his face. He wrapped his arm around her and whispered something to her that made her giggle in delight, and Stiles was kind of scared to know what he said to make that noise come out of her.

Stiles, shifted back and forth on his feet, still standing awkwardly near the table holding his tray. He looked at the spot beside Scott, unsure. Out of everything he had prepared for today, this definitely wasn't it.

"You going to sit down Stilinski?" Jackson sneered.

"Actually I was thinking of enjoying my food standing up," Stiles shot back, biting into his roll dramatically. "I'd hate for anything else I love to end up in the toilet."

Scott grabbed the back of his jacket and pulled him down onto the bench with strength Stiles didn't know he had. He scowled but kept his mouth closed.

"Well, it's nice to meet you Stiles," Allison said. "Scott talks about you a lot. Like a lot a lot."

"Well isn't that a coincidence, because-" Scott jabbed him in the ribs as hard as he could under the table. Allison smiled bashfully and Lydia rolled her eyes.

"Ow! Stupid overnight muscles," Stiles muttered, rubbing his side. "Not fair."

"You know you aren't going to be eligible for Valedictorian or Salutatorian right?" Lydia asked suddenly, clamping her compact mirror shut. "The policy is that you have to be present for the entirety of your Junior and Senior year to qualify."

Stiles shrugged, trying to keep his overeager inner 9 year old self at bay. "Yeah my dad wasn't thrilled about that, but I told him I didn't care. My GPA is all that really matters. Well, that and my SATs and ACTs."

Lydia gave him an adorable half smile. "Its a shame. It will be nice to have some competition around, regardless. Scott says you're quite the diligent student."

Stiles gave Scott a look that he was too busy ogling to notice. That was strange. That was the second time they mentioned Scott talking about him, yet he knew nothing about any of them. "Is that right?"

Lydia quirked her head, looking between the two, and made a mental note of it.

The rest of lunch went by fairly smoothly, but Stiles couldn't really focus on the various conversations going on around the table, too busy trying to figure everyone out. He could tell that obviously Erica and Boyd were a couple, despite the remark about his attractiveness. Even surrounded by friends, and them frequently chatting with other people instead of each other, he could almost see the personal bubble they had around themselves, so thick it was almost tangible.

From what he could see, Allison and Lydia seemed to be best friends. He wasn't exactly surprised, pretty people always seemed to attract other pretty people, but the vibes they gave off were very different. They were constantly having silent conversations between themselves, checking for opinions as they listened to other people's stories and laughing at inside jokes together. Luckily for Scott, he noticed her eyes would stray over to him frequently, especially when he would start to laugh over something silly.

The most interesting observation seemed to be that while Stiles was away, Scott, Jackson and Isaac had gotten pretty close. Stiles didn't really remember much about Isaac, but he seemed nice enough. He was actually a lot like Stiles in that he was fairly smart, sarcastic, and generally nice to be around, but he had a air of newly self-built confidence around him.

Jackson was the opposite, but to Stiles' surprise, he wasn't as bad as he remembered. Jackson exuded cockiness, that he expected, but he could tell that Jackson was a lot less of a jerk than he used to be when he handed the rest of his food to Isaac before he even had the chance to ask for it. Stiles figured he would be the hardest one to understand, because nothing he said was actually what he meant.

Stiles' thoughts were interrupted when Scott tried to reel Stiles into a conversation about lacrosse, but Stiles was contented to listen to the three guys recap the season so far.

Stiles gradually started feeling a bit more comfortable than he had in the beginning, but something kept nagging at him in the back of his mind: why had Scott told his friends so much about him, yet Stiles was clueless about them? He had heard about Allison, mostly because that was all he talked about, but why hadn't he ever heard of his friendships with the others, especially after Stiles found out he was going to be moving back? They all seemed close. Really, really close. They talked about hanging out on weekends, going to movies, and playing video games all weekend, yet Stiles couldn't remember a single time Scott ever mentioned them.

It was strange. Stiles knew that it was crazy of him to make assumptions from a few passing comments, but something in his gut told him Scott was hiding something.

"Do you have any classes with us?" Isaac asked, holding out his hand expectantly. Stiles shifted so he could pull his schedule from his back pocket and handed it to him. Isaac and Allison looked over it intently, and Jackson snuck a peek, trying and failing to look like he didn't care.

"Chemistry with Scott and Isaac, Math with Scott and Erica, most of the classes with Boyd or Erica if not both, AP classes with Me and Lydia. How did you manage not to have a single class with Jackson?" Allison asked.

"Lucky I guess," Stiles grinned.

Jackson rolled his eyes and Scott elbowed him again. Stiles sucked in air through his teeth and rubbed it until the pain faded. #WorthIt.

"So Scott said your dad is the new Sheriff," Boyd said. It was the first time Boyd had spoken out loud.

"Yeah, he was a deputy here when we lived here before. I guess enough people remembered him from back in the day that when he was nominated, people accepted him."

"Did he tell you how the position opened up?"

Everyone at the table stopped, and eyes were on him. If they were trying to seem subtle, they had definitely failed. Fortunately, though, this Stiles had anticipated. He considered whether he should divulge his true opinions or keep his ideas to himself. After an encouraging nod from Scott, he shrugged.

"Dad told me what they are telling people happened, yeah," he said.

Boyd's flitted to Scott, then he forced a small smile.

"You say that like you don't believe the story."

"I don't."

Boyd looked at him expectantly, as if waiting for him to elaborate. Erica squeezed his arm gently, not tearing her eyes from Stiles, keeping her expression soft. Scott gave him a look and Stiles relented.

Stiles sighed. "My Dad is going to kill me." He looked up to the ceiling as if he were praying for strength to survive. "They are saying it was a mugging or something near the park. That the guy was at the wrong place at the wrong time, got his stuff taken and killed for his trouble."

"That's what I heard too. Sounds reasonable enough, right?" Allison asked, laughing nervously.

Stiles scoffed. "Sure, if he was getting mugged by Wolverine. I haven't seen the crime scene photos yet, but from the conversations I've heard the last few days about the absolute carnage left behind, I don't see how it could be just a simple mugging. They're missing something, they just don't want to admit it yet."

Stiles pretended not to notice Scott tensing beside him. It was no secret Scott wasn't a fan of blood, but he didn't want to embarrass him by pointing it out.

"What does that even mean?" Lydia asked.

"What does what mean?"

"Mugged by Wolverine?"

"Wolverine. You know. X-Men. Wolver-you don't-you don't know who Wolverine is?" Stiles asked, his hands flailing then falling flat on the table, his eyebrows furrowed in distress.

She gave him an incredulous look, her perfect curls bouncing as she shook her head. He ran his hand down his face.

Jackson handed Lydia his phone and her lips turned down. "Man in tights. Not bad."

Allison rolled her eyes and the bell rang, signaling the end of lunch.

"Nice to meet you, again, Stiles," Allison said again, grabbing her bag and pulling it over her shoulder.

"Yeah, yeah, it was truly a pleasure. I need to borrow your calculator so let's go," Jackson said, ushering her away. Scott huffed beside him, and Stiles rolled his eyes. Scott was as oblivious as always.

*****

Everything was messed up.

Cora honestly couldn't decide which was worse, living states away with a bunch of strangers that she couldn't get along with to save her life, or finally being able to come home and dealing with all the frivolous drama that came with it.

Don't get her wrong, she was glad that Derek allowed her to come back home. She loved him and she was really glad that finally someone was starting to treat her like an adult, but having to deal with school and her brother's complicated Pack dynamics was stressful.

Being back home was annoying. Living in South America was worse.

Being away from her home, the last bit of family she had left, it had almost killed her. She didn't want to eat. She couldn't sleep. When she did sleep, it was interrupted by nightmares. Often times she would wake up in the dark, thinking the smoke had enveloped her completely. If that weren't enough, she felt more isolated than she had in her whole life. She was the only human in the Pack, which she was used to, but at least when she was home she was bonded with her family.

She sat in the library, head in her hands, trying not to think about all of the homework assignments that were piling up. Derek had said school was one of the conditions to her moving back in with him, but what exactly did that mean? What was he going to do when she got her grades back? Was he going to ship her back off like Laura had? Would he even feel bad?

She sighed. That wasn't fair. Derek had never wanted her to go, but when Laura decided on something, there wasn't really anything anyone could do to change her mind. As much as Cora didn't want to, she was going to have to talk to him. Good thing talking about feelings was a Hale family specialty.

When the bell rang for lunch, she rolled her eyes. As if her brother and his Pack didn't have enough to argue about, Scott's token human friend was supposed to have his first day today. Not that she wasn't curious what all the hype was about, but she didn't understand why Scott was fighting so hard to let his friend in on all their secrets when he was constantly pointing out how dangerous it was to let Cora stay here.

So, just to spite him, she was here, continuing to work on homework she didn't know how to do, and was too stubborn to ask for help with.

Before she knew it, lunch was over with only a little bit of progress to show for it. She walked begrudgingly to Chemistry, knowing that Harris was probably going to pester her about her revisions from their lab the previous week.

Cora walked to her spot, sitting down, dramatically opening her Chemistry book. Her up and coming best friend, Nina, nudged her with her shoulder has she settled in beside her.

"Did you hear there was a new senior?"

"Unfortunately," She replied icily, pulling a snack from her bag. Nina gave her an odd look. She interpreted it as "what the fuck is up with you?" despite the fact that Nina would never actually use those words. "Apparently he's going to be hanging around my brother's group."

"Oh," Nina smirked, knowingly. "The Hot Hale Harem?"

Cora almost choked on her granola bar, making Nina's smirk grow to a full on grin. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"You love me."

Cora rolled her eyes, but she couldn't help but laugh with her. Nina was different, but she honestly found it kind of refreshing. It was hard for her to remember to think about normal things like boys and shopping, but Nina didn't mind pulling her into her normie girl stuff.

"So, I was thinking," Nina started.

Cora took a deep breath. "No."

"You didn't even hear what I was going to say," she pouted.

"Fine. It'll still be a no, but continue."

"So you know how we have that test on Friday? I was thinking we could invite the guys to study with us."

(Find the rest on AO3 href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27811303"><strong>The Unshaped</strong></a> (16100 words) by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Infernal_panda"><strong>Infernal_panda</strong></a><br />Chapters: 2/?<br />Fandom: <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/tags/Teen%20Wolf%20(TV)">Teen Wolf (TV)</a><br />Rating: Not Rated<br />Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence<br />Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Allison Argent/Scott McCall, Vernon Boyd/Erica Reyes<br />Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale, Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Isaac Lahey, Lydia Martin, Jackson Whittemore, Vernon Boyd, Erica Reyes, Sheriff Stilinski, Melissa McCall, Peter Hale, Cora Hale, Laura Hale<br />Additional Tags: BAMF Stiles, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Pining, Underage Drinking, Fluff, Angst, Fluff and Angst, Romance, Friendship, Humor, Slow Burn, Slow Build, Supernatural Elements, mentions of abuse, eventually, Happy Ending<br />Summary: <p>After leaving Beacon Hills at age 8, Stiles never stopped feeling the indescribable pull, beckoning him back home. A new Sheriff position opening up gives him the chance to move back, and it’s everything Stiles ever wanted. He has his dad, his best friend, and he’s back where he belongs. </p><p>His first day back doesn’t exactly go as planned, and now he is finding that he was even less normal than he thought. </p><p>****</p><p>A Hale Pack fanfic with all of our lovable characters as they try to integrate Stiles into their wolfyhood and crazy monster-filled lives with Stiles as their unknowing magic friend, and a bit of intertwined fates to keep things interesting )

[gothamslimpestwrist]

s1e3 the balloonman

killcount: 

davis lamond: ronald danzer, bill cranston, dog walking lady (on accident), cardinal quinn

oswald cobblepot: mob mook who tried to sell him back to fish, dish washer @ bamonte’s

butch gilzean (offscreen, on orders from fish mooney): “natalia” (falcone’s girl), “lazlo” (fish’s lover)

episode total: 8 total count: 20

the dark knight rises: lots. this is the first vigilante villain in the show, and the response to him going after corruption foreshadows a city willing to accept the protection of a batman. the cops are bad; we see cranston, who beats suspects w/ his “partner o’brien” (a trophy). harvey goes out of his way to emphasize that cranston’s not that bad, which is probably true for cop standards. he beats a suspect in custody and a drug dealer he’s got a deal with. and that’s not nearly the worst of the shit this city has seen. oswald returns and sees a kid picking pockets, a cop taking “protection” money, a mugger running off with a purse, and some hookers soliciting, pretty much in the same 30 seconds. 

the city is sick. it needs someone. 

on bruce’s end, though, he’s like...legit not doing so well. he’s starving himself now, and he’s obsessed w/ the pictures he got of his parents’ dead bodies. he says he’s looking for clues (to which alfred snarks, “oh, so you’re a detective now?” ...yeah, the World’s Greatest Detective), but if you think about the sword fighting scene, alfred is trying to turn the “training” into something productive and channel bruce’s feelings, but bruce repeatedly states that he doesn’t want to do this, while alfred continues to hit him anyway. alfred is trying, you know? but he’s not yet a substitute for a real parent, much less a psychiatrist. he’s the one who pushes bruce toward actually training and fighting and repressing his emotions, rather than going to a therapist and being treated and learning to move on. i would argue that one of the things the first season does rather well is illustrate alfred in that role--bruce has, perhaps, the potential to become batman from the start, but alfred is the one who pushes him down that path by closing down the other ones.

gotham, in its infinite subtleties, does two more things with the balloonman: set up bruce’s “no kill” rule (although the gentle art of making enemies does this again and better) by having him comment that, because the balloonman killed people, he was no better than the criminals. (to be fair, this is more acceptable coming from a sheltered, traumatized 14 year old who just saw his parents murdered than it is from jim, a literal murderer, who espouses the same logic), and establish the need for batman with the question by reporter: “now that the balloonman is gone, who will defend the people of gotham?” 

who, indeed.

(sidenote: this has been a set piece since episode 1, but i did want to discuss the oath of the horatii in the wayne manor living room. i took art history once in high school and it made me insufferable for the rest of my life.

so, like, the painting depicts 3 brothers pledging to defend this city state with their lives--very subtle. but also, as backstory, of the 3 brothers, only 1 survives to actually do that. i would argue that this is sort of a showcase to the origins of batman. three potential defenders: thomas wayne, jim gordon, and bruce. thomas wayne, obviously, is dead. jim isn’t, but we all know that eventually there will be a moral failure that ends with his ideology also failing to protect the city. meanwhile, bruce will “survive” to become the dark knight....

oh, and the lady in the corner crying over there is the sister of these brothers, who was to be engaged to one of the men who they’re going out to kill. no matter who wins, she’s going to lose someone she loves, and i think that’s also about bruce’s path for the show... he can save the city or he can’t, but no one is coming out of this happily.)

continuity: oswald makes it back to gotham. now shit gets serious <3

he weasels his way into the dishwasher position at bamonte’s, maroni’s favorite restaurant. we meet maroni, falcone’s strongest competitor, who we heard of last time. oswald’s just a dishwasher for now... but he’s got plans. moving on up. meanwhile, both maroni and falcone make vague references to arkham, without yet revealing why it’s important. it’s just this Thing, and it’s gonna change the city. jim is confronted by montoya, worries about the way that she and allen are investigating the death of oswald. harvey says, “end of the day, nobody cares about cobblepot.” oh, if only he knew what the one piece of the puzzle could do... if only he saw things like oswald, in fact, who affirms, “gotham needs me! i am its future!” he’s... partially right. but not just you, sugarpot. really, mostly, bruce.

fish’s lover lazlo returns for the dead; fish has him killed for “bringing down the mood” after the beating he got in 1x2. so there’s confirmation; those tears weren’t for him, they were for what the action from falcone against her signified. fish turns montoya and allen onto jim gordon for cobblepot’s murder (in an act that comes full circle--penguin having started this cycle of revenge by turning montoya and allen onto fish and the gcpd at large for the murder of mario pepper), while mostly trying to push them against falcone, just a little. 

on a less plot-y note, lamond was a juvenile services worker whose last straw was the mayor using the childsnatchers from last episode to lock up gotham’s youth. so, 1x2 directly caused 1x3, and dollmaker caused 1x2. the wheels turn...

oh! and jim places selina at the scene of the wayne murder. so that plot moves.

sliding scale of barbara kean’s sanity: the stress of living with jim gordon is starting to get to her. she tries to lift him up, but once he’s gone, she gets high. montoya visits, and they rehash some old history before montoya tells her that jim killed oswald cobblepot. so that’s out... she also kisses barbara, and cracks are forming in her stable facade. how much longer can she last?

jim gordon trauma count: he falls like 20 feet onto a car. he should be a lot more fucked up than he is; lamond makes almost the same fall and breaks his neck. i think he at least got some cracked ribs, or something. 

characterization: interesting one for jim. we explore a bit of the way he thinks; he’s troubled by the fact that people only cared about what the balloonman was doing (in such a way that they were moved to stop him) when he killed a cop & not when he killed a corrupt politician, bc he thinks Murder Is Wrong. at the same time, the first guy really wouldn’t have seen the inside of a jail cell. so what does that mean for jim’s ideology? he clings to The Law bc that’s what he thinks separates good and bad--but that’s a copout (cop out, haha). that’s the moral complexities of a child, james. if he clings to the law, then he has someone else deciding what’s right and what’s wrong, what’s moral and just. but what if the laws are bad, or can’t protect people, even when upheld exactly to the letter? what then? jim got so used to following orders that he forgot how to make his own moral code--or he’s too scared to. But, we see hints of him doing it anyway. he’s troubled when barbara tries to praise him for his heroism, but maybe just bc he broke the law & got away with it. “everyone matters, or no one does” is a good start, jim. just examine who the laws are really made to help. 

for oswald: he gives his name as paolo to maroni when he’s trying to gain his confidence. i made a meta post about this on my other blog (which i plan to link in my next post), but the short version is that, for me, the name recalled paolo malatesta (a historical figure, but most notable for being one of the sinners in dante’s inferno), who was once said to be “a romantic sort, a man not really interested in the world around him.” ...this being oswald’s cover name when he wants maroni to think that he’s not paying any attention to what goes on around him at all. there’s also the more tenuous link of him giving his name as “dmitri,” which is derived from the greek goddess demeter, to the fish mook who recognizes him; demeter being the goddess of fertility, health, law, gotham’s future...

gobblepot: “hello, james. old friend.” oswald comes back to gotham and the immediate first thing he does after ensuring his sneaky little scheme is visiting jim--before gertrud, no less. and at jim’s girlfriend’s apartment. hm!!!

[nicolasnelson]

Sizzie fic - Perchance to Dream [oneshot]

Title: Perchance to Dream Relationship: Lizzie Saltzman/Sebastian Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Anxiety, Panic Attacks, Sebastian’s POV Words: 2,388

Summary: Sebastian has a dream about Cassandra which scares him. Thankfully Lizzie is there to comfort him, but he wonders how long she will stay by his side.

Requested by @fandommatchmaker19​ // Prompt: Would love a Sizzie one-shot in which Lizzie comforts Sebastian about something.

[AO3 LINK]

Sebastian could see her face in vivid detail, every inch of her as fine as an artist’s masterpiece. Her loving gaze and playful smile invited him in, and she whispered a promise to him.

“I will protect you always.” She kissed his palm and brushed her hair aside, allowing him access to her stunning neck.

“I cannot,” he said, though the temptation burned in his chest. Cassandra always did this to him, teased him with what he could not have.

She scooted closer to him on the bed, wrapping a leg around his torso and pushing her body against his. She slipped the sleeve of her silk gown off her shoulder so her breast pressed against his skin. Soft and warm and oh so tempting.

Sebastian nuzzled his cheek against her neck. His body was taut as he fought to maintain his control. If he broke for even a moment, desire might take over.

“Please, Sebastian,” she pleaded. “Blood will increase your lust. I want to feel all of you, to experience you the way only your victims have.”

“You may not survive it,” Sebastian said, his voice soft and strained. He sounded a little scared, even to his own ears, and maybe he was. It was hard to stop feeding once he started. The only times he managed it were when his victims were less than desirable.

She ran her fingers through his hair and pulled his head closer against her neck. “I trust you.”

Sebastian chuckled against her skin. That was a mistake. No one should trust him when he could not even trust himself. The warm, sweet scent of blood tickled his nostrils, and he looked down to see Cassandra had drawn a knife under her collarbone. Red pooled from the cut in rivulets, trickling down onto her exposed breast.

His mouth watered, and he licked his lips. He could feel that his self control was already gone.

Sebastian awoke. He sat up in bed and saw the woman beside him, the long blond hair. He sighed in relief. He hadn’t killed her after all.

“Cassandra, dear,” he whispered and turned her onto her back. Dead eyes stared up, not quite meeting his, and he scrambled backwards off the bed. He hit the floor with a thunk.

And then he opened his eyes and found himself in a different bedroom. He was in bed, a blond woman beside him. It was all so familiar, like he was reliving the same nightmare. He didn’t dare check to see if she was alive.

The room was suffocating him, the floor wobbling beneath his feet. He stumbled to the door and tried the knob, but it wouldn’t turn. Oh, God. He was locked inside.

He slid his back down the cool wood and crumpled up, arms wrapped around his legs. His whole body was shaking, and he felt the tears trickling down his cheeks. Like the blood trickling down Cassandra’s chest. Oh, God. He still remembered the taste on his lips, sweet like strawberries.

“Sebastian, are you okay?”

He jumped, looking up to the blond woman. As his eyes focused on her, a name popped into his head. “Elizabeth.”

He sighed with relief. At least he hadn’t killed her. He hadn’t killed Cassandra either. He knew that now. It was just a dream, a memory, but knowing that didn’t calm him down. He was still on edge, like balancing on a tightrope above a pit of blood.

Elizabeth Saltzman sat down next to him and put a hand on his knee. “What happened?”

“It’s nothing you need to worry about. You should go back to sleep.” He gave her a small smile.

Elizabeth laughed. “That was the saddest smile I’ve ever seen. Come on, Sebastian. You can’t keep this inside. I know what that’s like. It’ll just burn you from the inside out.”

“Like your episodes?”

“Exactly. You’ve seen how bad those can be. I don’t want you to go through that too.” She grabbed his hand, which was still shaking, and squeezed his fingers.

There was something soothing about being with Elizabeth. She understood him better than most, and she had the patience to learn more. It hadn’t always been that way. He could remember a time when she hated him, but now they were at a comfortable place. Not lovers, but certainly more than friends. Partners in copulation and the occasional crime.

“It was a dream,” Sebastian said. It felt wrong to say it aloud, like he was lying, because it was so much more than that. “Not a dream. A memory. There was a time I nearly killed Cassandra. I managed to stop myself, but it has always haunted me.”

“The past tends to do that,” Elizabeth said, sighing. “And you have more of it than most.”

Sebastian laughed, but it was soft and self-pitying. “I wish memories were not so long lasting. You would think I would forget after all these years, but I can never forget. Even when I am not actively thinking of them, they influence my actions.”

Elizabeth pulled out her cellular device. “I’ve got a playlist I like to listen to when I think I’m about to have a meltdown. It doesn’t always work, but sometimes it helps to get my mind off what’s bothering me.” She hit a button and music sprung forth from the device. She set it on the floor in front of them and leaned her head on Sebastian’s shoulder.

Sebastian squeezed her hand, grateful to have her by his side. The music was indeed soothing. He focused on the words and seeing how he could relate to them. The refrain particularly resonated with him.

I don't know if I can stay strong. Hold on, for too long. I've been lost. I need you here to calm me down. I need you here to calm me.

“Thank you, Elizabeth.”

“You’re welcome.”

They stayed like that through several more songs until Sebastian really did feel calm again. He’d never been able to calm himself down with music before. These fits of anxiety had plagued him for many, many years. They always made him feel like he was dying as a memory replayed in a loop in his head.

But Elizabeth had helped get him out of that loop. He had to do more than thank her with words. He had to show this beautiful creature how much she meant to him. How grateful he was that she had treated him like a person and not a child or someone crazy. She hadn’t seen his anxiety as a weakness at all.

And he’d never seen her struggles with her mental health as a weakness. So why all the self pity? He was strong and capable too. He was allowed to break down sometimes. His life was complicated and difficult. It was a wonder he hadn’t had a big meltdown after waking up in another century.

Everything was still so new, and he was still adjusting. Some things were amazing improvements that made life more convenient, like these devices that played music and relayed messages to other people. Some things were more annoying, like the doors that would open suddenly when you walked near them. Others were downright mind boggling, like the game of matching candy that people played on those devices for hours on end, wasting their lives away, chasing the satisfaction of reaching each new level.

It was a whole new world, and he wanted to make the most of it.

“Can we go for a ride in your vessel?” Sebastian asked.

“Right now?”

Sebastian chuckled. “Why, yes, my dear, it is my time of night after all.”

“We’d have to sneak out,” Elizabeth said, though there was a smile on her face and a glint of mischief in her eyes.

“Add it to our list of crimes, Bonnie.”

Elizabeth rolled her eyes, laughing. “I should never have shown you that movie. You relate far too much to Clyde.”

“Only for his dedication to Bonnie,” Sebastian said, drinking her in. Elizabeth really was the most wonderful creature he’d ever met.

...

They snuck out through the kitchens in the dorms. Pedro was in there having a snack, but he promised Elizabeth he wouldn’t tell anyone. Sebastian wasn’t sure whether they could trust the small child, but he didn’t really care if they got into trouble. He was used to it by now.

Elizabeth put the top down on the car and drove them through the town and onto the interstate. Sebastian enjoyed the cool air against his face. It reminded him of horse riding, but it was so much smoother and faster, much more exhilarating. He looked over at Elizabeth to see her blond hair whipping all around her like a tumbleweed.

“Oh, hush. Your hair doesn’t look any better,” Elizabeth said when she caught his amused smile in the mirror.

He glanced at himself. The wind was slicking his hair back, much like the 1931 version of Dracula. “This is very old wine. I hope you will like it,” he said, smirking.

Elizabeth barked out a laugh at the reference. “Aren't you drinking?”

“I never drink”—Sebastian paused dramatically—“wine.”

Elizabeth jerked the car to the right and took the exit. She drove into a small patch of woods and parked the car. “Should we put the top back up?”

“Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn,” Sebastian said.

“Oh, God. I love it when you quote Gone with the Wind.” Elizabeth grabbed his neck and pulled him into a hungry kiss.

Her breath still smelled of peppermint toothpaste, and Sebastian found it downright intoxicating. He helped maneuver Elizabeth over the center console so she could straddle his lap. It felt nice to look up at her, like she was some goddess smiling down at him, bestowing kisses upon him like gifts no mortal man deserved.

Sebastian had to remind himself he was no mortal man. He’d made his share of mistakes, but this beauty believed he was worthy of her affection. He had confidence that he looked the part, but he never believed he had the personality to match. All his charm was heavily practiced, as he’d spent years studying (and flirting with) the masters. Kings and prostitutes and everything in between.

Elizabeth pushed her hair behind her shoulder, exposing her neck to him. “Do that thing I like.”

Sebastian was hesitant for a moment as the old fear gripped him, but he obliged, pressing his lips against Elizabeth’s smooth skin. He ran his tongue along the back of her ear, playing in the corner just behind her earlobe. Elizabeth melted in his arms, goose pimples prickling all along her skin as she shivered in delight.

He was still surprised she trusted him to do this. Was she even a little afraid he might be tempted to bite her instead? Or was she like Cassandra, naively trusting he’d be able to stop once he started?

Witches couldn’t know the allure of blood, how it wasn’t like a delicious cake they could eat bit by bit over time. Blood was like wine to an alcoholic, drugs to an addict, that stupid candy game to mindless teenagers. You didn’t have to be a ripper to become consumed by that hunger.

Elizabeth nuzzled her nose against his, pulling him from his thoughts, and he couldn’t help but think instead about how adorable she was. And how unfairly lucky he was to have her in his arms. He wasn’t good enough for her, and she knew it, but she wanted him anyways.

Their lips met again, tongues dancing to the familiar choreography, and he ran his fingers through her hair, marveling at its softness. He imagined transporting her to his time. Not his drab life on the colony, where he was devoted to Cassandra, but the time before he became a vampire. His life in Europe, the elaborate parties he had attended. Elizabeth would look wonderful in one of those ball gowns, with her hair pinned up, that lovely neck on full display. Dainty gloves on her dangerous hands. Pink slippers on her beautiful feet.

Oh how she would have turned heads. He would never have gotten the chance to dance with her then, only to admire from afar.

“I am pleased with how my life has turned out,” Sebastian admitted, a little surprised that he’d uttered the thought aloud.

Elizabeth sat back a little to study his face. “Because of me?”

Sebastian let out a chuckle. “Well, yes, you’re a big part of it. But there’s more to it. If I hadn’t been desiccated in that box, the colonists would have killed me. I never would have gotten the chance to see the twenty-first century, to attend a school of witches, werewolves, vampires, and other things I had never heard of, like tribrids and phoenixes.”

“Well, they are one of a kind,” she said.

Sebastian smiled. “As are you, Elizabeth. I am at an odd place in my life right now. While I am grateful to have the chance to live in this world and interact with you, I fear that all of this will not last. No one in that school trusts me, even after everything I do to help all of you. It feels like I may never earn my place. I am merely being used for my muscles and my vampiric abilities.”

“That is not how I think of you,” Elizabeth assured him.

“Do you think the others will ever change their minds? Or will they continue despising me forever?”

Elizabeth pressed her forehead to his. “Forever is a long time. I think they can warm up to you eventually. I’m doing everything in my power to persuade them.”

Sebastian felt that bubbly happiness in his chest. The kind that made him nervous. Elizabeth was doing so much for him, and all he was doing was helping her when she asked, offering his body to her when she asked.

Maybe it was time he did a favor for her without asking. A gift perhaps, or a special day just for her. An idea was already forming in his mind.

“Elizabeth, how would you feel if I took you on a proper date?”

She blinked in surprise, then smiled sweetly. “I would like that very much.”

[littlemessyjessi]

“Full of Surprises”: Negan Imagine

Negan Imagine #MANCRUSHMONDAY #MCM  Negan x Reader : PS Reader, Plus Size Reader, Tattooed reader 

Imagine impressing Negan with how you handle yourself ....

I’d met Negan on a run. 

I’d been seperated from my group at the time- per my choice. 

I was tired of the drama and figured I’d be better off on my own. 

And ya know- that kinda worked for a bit. 

But fuck- sometimes there’s truth in that whole strength in numbers then. 

So there I was, catapulting myself across the cars of a junkyard. 

Thanking god, or whoever, was up there for years of doing gymnastics as a kid and young adult. 

I hadn’t done much of it in years but I guess muscle memory and all that shit. 

So there I was acting like I was up next at the fucking Olympics when I hear the most awful amount of ruckus. 

I mean, I figured I’d be walker shit in a few hours anyway but then I see this tall son of a bitch in the distance. 

Swinging a fucking baseball bat six ways from Sunday and enough man power to scare the shit out of anyone. 

You could see how I’d be a little apprehensive but considering that they’d basically just saved my ass from being walker shit....I held back the undeniable amounts of sass. 

Hell, I didn’t know this man! 

For all I knew, he’d saved me just so he could bash my brains in. 

Judging by the healthy glow to his skin and swagger in his step...he seemed well fed and doing pretty good in this shitbox of a life at the moment. 

And in the state of the world at the current moment? 

That wasn’t exactly something that was easy to come by. 

“Whooo, damn little lady!” he said with a grin that told me he could get just about anything he wanted.  “Where in the fuck did you learn to move like that? Hell, got my dick standing at attention with moves like that!” 

I lifted a brow at him, “Well, ya know.  The whole possibility of being eaten alive can tend to spark a little fire under one’s ass.” 

He smirked and his eyes just sparkled with a joke that was way too easy. 

“Before you make some kinda raunchy comment about how they’re not the only ones who’d like to eat me alive- just save it.” I said with a roll of my eyes. “You ain’t the first one to say and I’m sure you won’t be the last. But for fuck’s sake- at least if you’re gonna hit on me- get some new material. We don’t have television anymore and I am so not in the mood for lame re-runs of weak ass pick up lines.” I said. 

Admittedly, my sass got away from me before I could get a hold on it. 

“Well, damn.” he grinned. “I do believe you have peaked my interest.   You care to join me for some fine dining tonight?” 

I just lifted a brow at him again. 

“While my stomach is telling me yes- I don’t necessarily trust you.  So I guess I’d say I’ll pass.  But I get the feeling that you’re not really asking so much as you’re informing me that I’ll be joining you.” I said. 

He smirked and let loose a ludicrous kinda moan. 

“Boys!” he cheered. “I like this one!” 

“Before you get any ideas about passing me around in some kinda gang bang orgy, you might as well just kill me- because I don’t play that shit and I will not be going easily.” I said. 

He shook his head, “Come on now, sugar mama.  That’s not how this works.  I’d never force a fine woman such as yourself to do such a thing.” 

I just stared him down. 

“Look, it it makes you feel any better, I’ll let you hold Lucille.” he said and offered the bat to me. 

I still didn’t trust him and it didn’t help that his companions held a look of shock upon their features when he offered the bat to me. 

I took it in my hands and swung it up to rest on my shoulder. 

“Be gentle with her now.” he winked at me. “She likes to be touched with care.” 

“For the record.” I stated. “I’m not afraid to beat you to death with your own bat that you just foolishly gave me.  My old man was a piece of shit but he was the best hitter in all of Tennessee.  In more ways than one.” 

The man held his hands up, “I will be nothing but a gentlemen and the boys will agree. Right boys?” 

There was a collective murmur amongst them in a bid to settle me. 

In reality, I didn’t matter whether I was settled or not.  

This man aimed to have me go back with them and I’d either go with them willingly or go down swinging. 

We moved along in silence for a while before he spoke again. 

Damn him with his relaxed self and long lanky legs. 

“So, how did you learn to move like that if you don’t mind me asking, sugar?” he asked. 

“I did gymnastics for a big part of my life.” I said. “All of my childhood and through my high school years.  I haven’t done it seriously in a long time but I guess muscle memory just kinda stays in the bones.” 

His brows rose on his forehead, “Damn.  That’s impressive.” 

“Thanks, I guess.” I said, adjusting the bat from one shoulder to the other. “I do best in crazy situations.  My coach was a hardass.  He was kind of a dick a lot of the time in more ways than one and was more like a drill sergeant than anything. But he was still a good coach.  I don’t think I would’ve gotten as far as I did without his coaching.  Both in gymnastics and to be honest- out here.” 

The man chuckled and I looked over at him. 

“What’s your deal?” I asked, furrowing my brows at him.

I knew I shared too much with this egotistical mother fucker. 

“Nothing. It’s just- I used to be a coach before all the shit hit the fan.  And by the sounds of it- your old coach and I probably have a lot in common.” he said. “So from a dickhead hardass of a coach, it’s not the coach that got you this far.  It’s you.  I was hard on my team too.  The weak ones broke and quit.  That was what was best.  But the strong ones kept going- damn near challenged me on everything and refused to back down.  You didn’t survive because of the coach.  You survived because you don’t back down.”  he said. 

The silence hung between us for a moment. 

“That’s awfully deep for someone I met less than half an hour ago.” I commented. 

“Why the fuck does it not surprise me that you wouldn’t just fucking say thank you?” he laughed. 

“Not really my style, I guess.” I shrugged. “So Lucille?  Like Lucille Ball?” 

He gave somewhat of a sad smile that was a bit uncharacteristic for him and shrugged, “My late wife.” 

I just nodded, “I can respect that.  Anyone who honors their late wife by having her as a blood stained baseball wrapped in barbed wire...eh, you kinda sound like my version of crazy.” 

He came to a halt, “Darling, you are so fucking weird.  I think I might just have to keep you.” 

“It’ll cost ya.” I said swinging the bat around.  

“Oh?” he said, curiosity peaked. “And what is your price, sugar tits?” 

“Well, for started, I’ll be climbing your big ass like a tree.” I said and that seemed to perk him right up. 

“Fuck yeah!” he said. 

“Second, I’m gonna take you up on that fine dining.” I said. “Maybe we’ll start with that.  Ya know, I’ll need to carb load to prepare myself for what I’ll do to you.” 

He fell to his knees in front of me dramatically. 

“My name is Negan, you evil goddess and I am at your service.” he said. 

I wasn’t the only one to laugh at his antics but I patted him on the head and smiled anyway. 

“Nice to meet you, Negan.  You may address me as Mistress from now on because I’m about to have you wound around my finger so tightly you won’t wanna know anything else.” I cooed and strutted on by. 

“Sweet fucking mother of god.” he whispered. “I think I’m in love.” 

Love, Mama Kennysaurus If you wanna see more of my content just check out my blogs! @littlemessyjessi is the main blog full of fandom fictions, imagines, headcanons and sickeningly sweet fluff! Yeah, I know, lol. Barf.  But hey, I like it. @witchyweirdness is the magical blog full of witchy content And last but not least !   @monsterbaesbymamakennysaurus is my monster blog full of all kinds of monster related content! So I hope to see you there! Love, Kenny

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Love, Kenny

[katedoesfics]

Shadows of Hyrule | Chapter 57

All eyes were on Link. Revali looked the angriest, but the others simply regarded him with wary curiosity or sympathy.

“All right,” he grunted. “It's not like I knew that would happen.”

“I can't confirm for sure if that's what happened,” Zelda said. “But based on what I've read from other events, it is a very real possibility.”

“So, what?” Daruk asked. “What does this mean? How do we close it?”

“It's possible that it can't be closed until the sword is returned,” Zelda said. “If that is the case, it can't be closed until Ganondorf is defeated and he is sealed away.”

“But there's still one other portal,” Urbosa said. “Right?”

Zelda nodded. “We should find it and close it as soon as we can,” she said. “Then, if time allows us, we can focus our efforts on researching the Yiga Clan some more. As long as we can, we should be proactive in keeping Ganondorf's forces as minimal as possible before he makes his return.”

“Do we have any clue where the next portal is?” Revali asked. “You know, maybe we can get ahead of this before more chaos ensues?”

Zelda shook her head. “We don't have any clues to the next portal right now,” she said. “Impa would tell me if she knew something.”

“Would she?” Urbosa asked skeptically.

Zelda hesitated. “I've taken matters into my own hands,” she said. “I'm not relying on Impa. But that doesn't mean I know what I'm doing, either. I don't even know where to begin searching for the next portal.”

“Maybe we should look at the other two,” Mipha suggested. “They were at the Citadel and the Temple of Time.”

“The Temple of Time supposedly used to once protect the Master Sword,” Zelda said.

“So, there's a lot of history there,” Mipha concluded. “It's an important place.”

“But why put a portal there?” Daruk asked.

“And a fake Ganondorf,” Revali muttered.

“Maybe it's like Harry Potter,” Urbosa said. “And the Hor-thingies.”

Mipha giggled. “Horcruxes?”

Urbosa pointed a finger at her. “Yeah. Those.”

“Sounds right,” Link said. “Ganondorf is a huge Harry Potter fan, didn't you know?”

“There's some legitimacy behind that,” Zelda said. “I mean, the idea of Horcruxes. There was once a lot of power there. It only makes sense that Ganondorf would be able to utilize that to his advantage. I don't think the portals are placed anywhere by accident.”

“What about the Citadel, then?” Daruk asked.

“There's a lot of mystery surrounding the Citadel,” Zelda admitted. “But, thousands of years ago, it did remain Hyrule's last defense during the age of the Great Calamity. Hyrulean soldiers and Knights made their last stand there, where they were ultimately destroyed. I mean, completely annihilated. They didn't stand a damn chance.”

“Sounds pleasant,” Revali muttered.

“So,” Urbosa started. “Sources of power and history. That's what we're looking for in the next portal.”

“There's got to be a ton of places like that around Hyrule,” Mipha said.

Zelda nodded. “That was my thinking, too. I've narrowed it down to a few places that I think would be worth checking out.” She unrolled a map and pointed to a few marked locations. The first place she pointed to was to the north-west of the city, just on the edge of the distant mountain range in the Hebra region. “This is the location of the Forgotten Temple,” she explained. “It holds a large Goddess statue that is thought to be as old as Hyrule itself, dating back to when Demise first placed the curse on the kingdom.”

“Seems logical enough,” Revali said.

“What are these other places?” Daruk asked.

Zelda's finger moved across the map to the other marked location. “Spectacle Rock,” she said. “Supposedly, it was once Ganondorf's lair.”

“Lair,” Revali echoed. “How medieval.”

Zelda continued. “And this,” she started, moving her finger once more, though she hesitated. “This is a shrine,” she said softly. “Actually, I don't think anyone knows of its location. No one but the Sheikah.” She pulled her finger off the map and straightened. “Impa was keeping this a secret.”

“What's so special about it?” Urbosa asked.

“It was known as the Shrine of Resurrection,” she said. “It was apparently used during the Great Calamity when the hero fell.”

“Used?” Mipha asked, her brows furrowed. “Resurrection?”

“It could bring back the dead?” Revali cocked his head to the side. “That could be useful.”

“I hardly think it has any magical healing properties,” Zelda said.

“What if it does?” Urbosa suggested. “It was used, wasn't it? Successfully?”

Zelda hesitated. “According to the Sheikah notes I found, yes.” She continued quickly. “But that was thousands of years ago. And clearly the Sheikah have made it a point to keep it a secret.”

“Why would they want to keep that a secret?” Mipha asked.

“Because they're all part of the Yiga Clan,” Revali said, crossing his arms. “Of course they don't want any of us to survive this war.”

Zelda was hesitant. She bit the corner of her lip. “Impa isn't with the Yiga Clan.”

Daruk narrowed his gaze on her. “Can you say that with complete faith?”

Zelda pulled her gaze away and did not answer him.

“Well,” Urbosa said, leaning back in her chair. “Maybe we should check out this Forgotten Temple, then?”

“It's a start,” Daruk said with a nod.

“Can it wait until after finals?” Mipha asked with a careful smile. “Please, Hylia, just let me pass this year.”

Zelda smiled. “Sure. As long as Ganondorf doesn't have any plans between now and then.”

*****

For the first time in his life, Link opened his text book and actually studied – or attempted to study – the equations on the pages. What better time to turn over a new leaf than the day before finals? He still couldn't help but to feel that it was all for nothing – that he would never survive the war for any of it to matter. And learning about the Shrine of Resurrection didn't make him feel any more confident in his abilities. But, for a moment, studying gave him purpose – a different purpose. A purpose he could – for the most part – control in his life.

However, he wasn't more than a page in when his phone went off, alerting him of a text message from Zelda.

We need to talk.

Link pondered the message for a moment. Then, with a sigh, he typed out his reply.

Are you breaking up with me?

Her response did not take long. Yes. Our heroic partnership is over.

Thank the Goddesses, Link typed back. Guess I have to start putting more effort into my life now.

Can you come over? Another text came through immediately following that one. No, this isn't a booty call.

Well you just take the fun out of everything. He paused after he hit send, then typed again. I'll be over in a few.

He didn't exactly feel like going out. In fact, he was quite happy to pretend to be a normal high schooler, even if only for a day. But there was something on her mind, he was sure of that. Something she didn't want to say in front of the others.

Link closed the textbook almost regretfully, then grabbed a fresh t-shirt from off his bed, exchanging it for the one he had on. Outside, it was raining, but he didn't bother to wear anything more to protect himself from the elements. He grabbed his father's keys from the counter, holding them in the air as he moved through the kitchen to indicate that he was leaving.

“Oh, sure, go right ahead,” his father said, looking over at his son from his seat on the couch. “Take my car. Take my wallet too, why don't you.”

“Thanks,” Link called over his shoulder as the door closed behind him.

It only took him a few minutes to navigate the city, hitting mostly green lights as he made his way to the palace of the royal family that rested just on the northern border of the city. It seemed the security guards were expecting his arrival, as they let him right through the tall gates when he approached. He was slightly disappointed that he didn't have more hoops to jump through. An iris and finger scanner, for example, to prove his identity. A special badge that needed to be flashed as he drove up. Something to make him feel just that much cooler. As if being welcomed into the palace wasn't cool enough.

Zelda was waiting for him when he was brought inside. She immediately dismissed the guards, then without a word, turned and walked down the hall. Link hesitated before jogging to catch up with her.

“Is that how you greet all your guests?” he said.

“You're hardly a guest,” she said, keeping her gaze straight forward. “As Hero of Hyrule, you can come and go as you please.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Within reason,” she said, glancing at him from the corner of her eye.

“So, I can just swing by tomorrow and raid your fridge?”

Zelda shrugged. “If it pleases you.”

“You're being weird,” Link said.

Zelda pulled at his wrist as they turned quickly down another hallway. Her pace quickened and she kept close to the wall. Before he realized where they were going, he found himself back in the dark underground tunnel they came through when they stole the sword back.

“You said this wasn't a booty call,” Link said.

“Listen,” she hissed. “There's security all over this damn place. As far as I know, there isn't much around here, but we need to be careful where we talk and what we say.”

“Okay,” Link said slowly, his voice hushed. “What's going on?”

“I think there are still members of the Yiga Clan,” Zelda said. “Sheikah who are working for my father. Whether it's Impa or someone else. There is a mole.”

Link narrowed his gaze on her. “Do you know this for a fact? Or are you making an assumption?”

“I'm putting the pieces together,” Zelda hissed. “You know I'm the last one to jump to this conclusion.” She averted his gaze and looked down the dark hall. “Impa came to me after you guys left. She pulled me into the library. She warded it.”

“Warded it?”

“I don't know much about their powers,” Zelda said, “But I know she did something. I could feel the pressure. Whatever she did, it stopped the security cameras. It would have stopped any devices if the room was bugged. It probably would have been enough to throw off any other Sheikah who may have been watching us.” She turned back to Link. “She warded it. And she told me to stop looking into the Yiga Clan.”

Link blinked at her for a moment. “So, obviously we keep looking into it,” he said.

Zelda shook her head. “No. We can't. Not yet.”

Link's gaze hardened. “Are you insane? That's all we need to know that we should be looking into it.”

“I trust Impa,” Zelda said fiercely.

“How can you trust her?” Link's voice raised.

“Because she's all I have!” Zelda hesitated, then lowered her voice. “My mother trusted her with everything. When she died... Impa practically raised me when my father was simply too busy. Everything I know about the history of Hyrule came from her. She never kept secrets from me. If she's keeping secrets now... there has to be a reason for it. When the time is right, she will tell us. She'd never keep us in the dark, not at the risk of our lives or the future of Hyrule.”

Link said nothing for a moment. The silence was heavy between them as Link considered her words. Finally, he spoke. “What do you want us to do?”

“I think,” she started, “we should continue to focus our efforts on the portals. I think we can try to find the next one. Maybe it is at the Forgotten Temple. It's worth taking a look. We need to be completely focused on stopping Ganondorf. Everything else can come after.”

Link nodded once. “Alright,” he said, his voice steady. “I trust you.”

“Thank you,” she said softly. “I needed you to know. But I couldn't have everyone else know. Not yet.”

Link grit his teeth together. “They won't be happy.”

“I'll cross that bridge when we get to it,” she said. She lead the way out of the passageway and back into the palace.

“I don't know what will happen,” Zelda continued. “But I have a feeling Ganondorf has been plotting out every move. And when he makes his appearance, it will be quick and sudden. I know you don't want to hear this, but we will have to rely on our army to keep our enemies at bay. We'll need people to have our backs while we finish this. This has gone way beyond what the six of us can handle by ourselves.”

Link listened quietly as he walked beside her through the halls. He nodded when she finished, but offered nothing more. When she stopped walking, he looked up, surprised to see Mipha, Daruk, Urbosa, and Revali standing before them.

“What are you guys doing here?” Zelda asked carefully. “And how did you get in?”

Link met Mipha's gaze questioningly, but she tore her eyes away.

“Revali pulled the 'Do you know who I am' card,” Urbosa said, crossing her arms.

Revali smirked. “I am one of Hyrule's Champions, as appointed by the princess herself. You would think that means something.”

Zelda turned her gaze to the ceiling and a smile pulled at her lips. “Oh. Right. I guess I forgot to give security the memo.”

“I thought they were going to shoot him,” Daruk said with a grin. “Too bad they didn't.”

Zelda shrugged. “So, what do you want?”

“Since no one responded to our texts,” Urbosa started, narrowing her eyes, “we felt we should come and warn you.”

Zelda raised a brow. “Warn me? About what?”

Urbosa turned her gaze to Mipha, hesitant.

“My parents,” Mipha said softly, her gaze on the floor. “They're... not happy.” She shook her head. “Ever since the media blow up,” she continued. “They refuse to accept that I have any part of this. They've been arguing ever since. Talking about how King Roham betrayed them. I don't know what's going on, but they're on their way here as we speak.”

Zelda's brows knit together. “I won't say we don't need your help, Mipha, but -”

“It's more than that,” Mipha said quickly. “I think we're in deeper than we realize.”

Zelda opened her mouth to speak, but it snapped shut as her father rounded the corner, his gaze hard and angry. Beside him, a man and a woman stepped forward, their gazes equally as angry.

[mountphoenixrp]

We have a new citizen in Mount Phoenix:

                                  Willis Oh, who is known by no other name;                                                 a 24 year old son of Xi-Wangmu.                                         He is an orthopedist at Asclepius General                                            and a professor at Phoenix University.

FC NAME/GROUP: Oh Sehun / EXO CHARACTER NAME: Willis Oh AGE/DATE OF BIRTH:  12/04/1994 PLACE OF BIRTH: Seoul, South Korea OCCUPATION: Orthopedist at Asclepius General, Professor of Herbology at Phoenix University HEIGHT: 183 cm DEFINING FEATURES:

Lithe body, broad shoulders, thick eyebrows, straight nose

A mole on the right side of his neck, and a small scar 5cm under his left eye

PERSONALITY: Proud, confident, captivating, yet glacial and unapproachable are what bystanders would say about Willis Oh. He was born not to be part of the crowd, and he is willing to do everything needed for people to keep that in mind. Self-assurance, vitality, compelling charm, and extraordinary intuition are bestowed upon the young man, and as time elapsed, he grew up with a subtle but inflexible pride and integrity.

Honor and truth are his Gods, and falsehood is always at the top of his aversions list. However, usually, he chooses to treat people who failed him with a reasonably tolerant attitude. To attain his goals, Willis would do anything but take shortcuts or any sort of dirty, underhanded ways. Once he decides to pursue something, there are no forces in the world that can stop him from getting to the end.

Having a desire to run his own life peacefully, the demigod is definitely not fond of dramas, but if forced, he will have no trouble to be the most formidable opponent they could ask for. Thanks to his sensitivity towards social interactions, more often than not, he would succeed in getting what he wants without tapping in his dark side.

The demigod also possesses traits of a latent, unpredictable rebel in his genes. With such a strong individuality playing his theme, Willis abhors to be maltreated or ordered around. When his endurance hit its limit, he will explode, just so the devils can go back to where they belong and never come back. Sometimes, the reasonable counterattack might sweep into a stormy vengeance, especially when emotional damages are involved. Hell hath no fury, they said.

For some people, he may appear as distant or domineering. Those are not at fault, for Willis has purposely put up the mask, just to keep his fragile inside safe from any potential damage. The cheerful, tender and truly warm-hearted side of his only show itself to a few, who are patient enough to get underneath the cool cover in the right way. His love and respect are so rare to be found, not because he is lacking in them, but due to his innate suspicion about the world in general. Yet, once one wins his trust and fondness, it is sure to say that they have got themselves the most loyal and dedicated companion with a lifetime guarantee.

HISTORY: There would be nothing much to say about the young Willis Oh, if his notoriety was crossed out of the story. Everyone who learnt about him, included his dear father, never ever had the capability to explain why such a young boy could be able to make enough mess for about 100 of them.

Maybe his biological mother could have stated the reason, if she had not been in that hurry to take her leave of this crowded, full of cruelness world. Someone said his mother passed away right after giving birth to him, but there was no evidence, so Willis had never stopped questioning. But whatever the truth was, perhaps the blame for his seemingly innate misbehavior was not on Mrs. Oh’s absence on her son’s timeline. It couldn’t be pour on the head of ‘Sir’ Oh - the almighty, un-blameable chairman, whose empire was too complicated and dangerous for his only offspring to be a part of. Also, there was no way for his ‘angelic’ step-mother to be accused of, even though her rudeness and indifference towards little Willis was visible even for the blind.

Thanks for her million-dollar cunning, his father hadn’t got a single clue about her maltreatment of Wilis until years later. And because all of the relatives were innocent as well, there was only one person left to shoulder all those guilt: the little Willis himself.

Luckily, being a free spirit he was, there were no evils or adversities that could bring him to his knees. With an as radiant as sunbeams smile and zero percentage of opposition, he took the responsibility for playing the most obnoxious and troublesome brat this universe could expect to have. He did it well, too well, that he was no longer be able to step off the stage. All eyes were on him whenever he was successful in causing a new trouble, and only at that time did he receive the attention he was craving for. The more problems he caused, the more attention he got. Because there was no one and nothing around could make him stop, Willis happily enjoyed his glorious time in boisterous peace.

As time went by, together with his ill-naturedness, little Willis hurriedly grew up with an ambitious, restless attempt to carry out his mission in life: Turning the whole world upside down, and inside out.

It is not exaggerated to say that his ‘acting’ career as a well-known spoiled brat had reached the peak when his age moved into its adolescent phase. Psychologists and expensive treatments were nothing but a chain of failures, and if they had helped with anything, it would have had something to do with igniting his resentment towards life even more, and eventually making those last pieces of his sanity flare up like wildfire. By the age of 17, he had been the VIP of almost all the famous bars and clubs in town, tasted all of finest types of wine, taken part in most of the physical fights with his fellows, and slept with almost all types of people. He also tasted blood around that time, and found his temporary escape in car racing, though it did not last long, just like his interest in everything else.

After getting enough of messing the whole neighborhood, his father’s house and also his own life up, Willis pointed his gun at a much more interesting target - other people’s life and hearts - and took many shots. He did not notch up his ‘trophies’, because they were countless. Yet, no matter how many of them he got, it was still not enough to change the fact that he was bisexual, while his father was a prideful homophobe. Day by day, the die-hard family feud between father and son was brought up with the suffocating silence in their house, and Willis couldn’t care less about that.  

Yet again, everything has an end, so does Willis’ rebellion and dissoluteness. After a wild party night, Willis found himself waking up in the ER with a broken leg, thick bandages wrapped around his head and torso, countless bruises and cuts littering his skin, and an oxygen mask stuck on his face. A doctor informed him that he was damn lucky to remain alive, for the accident wasn’t mild, as both a lamppost and his car were very much beyond repair. If it weren’t for a mysterious woman who called the hospital just on time, he might have been left dying alone on that deserted highway. What even more miraculous was that his father showed up right after the doctor had left. Of course, the chairman chewed his son out after feeding him disgusting porridge, and repeating the cycle until Willis was allowed to go home.

After the incident, his superficial brain finally received a worthwhile slap at the face from reality. He was still craving for love and attention, but not in such a cruel and hurtful way anymore. With an incredible amount of efforts and determination, Willis recovered his long-lost sanity, then managed to score incredibly high in the national university entrance exam. According to plan, Willis would go study in the USA right after his graduation. Yet, he fiercely rejected the idea, and won himself a seat in a prestige university right in Seoul. Despite his father’s disapproval, Willis chose Medicine. He wanted to become a doctor, simply because without those talented doctors, he couldn’t survive.

Willis was a late-bloomer, as he discovered his superpowers only at his last year of university, after waking up from a dream. He saw the goddess Xi-wangmu, who told him that he was born with a special gift, and that he shouldn’t leave it to waste. She guided him how to cure people’s injuries and grow plants with his bare hands, also showed him the healing magic of herbs, and informed him that there was an island, name Mount Phoenix, where he could meet people like him.

“Demigod? Me?!” He asked incredulously, and Willis still remembered how lovingly Xi-wangmu smiled at him as she confirmed with a slight nod, before the alarm clock yanked him back to reality.

With his outstanding performance, Willis was invited to work at the university’s hospital, but it only lasted for about a year, then the desire to leave the city finally dominated him. No matter what had been done, the relationship between him and his father couldn’t go any further than speaking term, and the curiosity about the magical island urged him to pack his bags and go. After a year settling down on Mount Phoenix, Willis acknowledged that beside studying Medicine, moving to the island was the best decision he had made so far.

PANTHEON:  Chinese CHILD OF: Xi-Wangmu POWERS:

Healing: Able to heal minor wounds and infections with his touches.

Plan Enhancement: Able to augment and grow plants, enhance the plants’ qualities, also bring small plants back to life within a limited period of time.

Enhanced Health: Possess a better physical, mental, emotional, and sexual health than the majority of demigods. He has higher resistance towards sickness, but by no means be immune to any sort of diseases or poisons.  

STRENGTHS:

He’s a capable healer and caregiver for anyone who’s in need.

He has a green thumb and a golden heart.

He’s a walking lie detector

He’s a ride or die, extremely loyal and protective towards the people and things that he holds close to his heart

WEAKNESSES:

Despite being soft-spoken and polite most of the time, he can snap, and he can snap hard

Sharp-tongued and sarcastic, he could kill with his words, sometimes unintentionally

Diamonds can’t hold a candle to the hardness of his head a.k.a. it’s nearly impossible to convince him once he sets his mind on something

He’s almost always stressed, and has problem managing his anger at times

A natural skeptic, so it will take a lot before he can truly trust and open up to someone

[mamacleo]

BORDERLINE PERSONALITY DISORDER: You can't beat it. Or can you?

TW, CW: Frank discussion of mental illness, language

SPOILER ALERT: Triumph.

ADVISO: Long (yeh, surprise)

Everyone reading this who knows me knows about my struggles with mental illness especially borderline personality disorder (BPD). This missive is written because, after an entire adulthood of being its servant and its victim, at last I have a strategy. As of today.

I want to use this opportunity, then, to inform anyone who might not understand BPD. This is going to be an actual article, and I will repost this on Blogger, Medium, and Tumblr.

What I'll do is give a bit of info about BPD for anyone who might not understand it, describe how last night and this morning are typical in ways anyone can understand, and then relate my solution. I do this knowing that this solution is specifically for me. It may not work for anyone else. But you can try it and see if it works.

Let me talk about BPD. It doesn't exist among adults who did not experience trauma in their childhood. Childhood physical trauma can lead to PTSD in adults, and that's one thing, but BPD only comes out of emotional trauma, and bad trauma at that. Kids who were gaslighted, lied to, and subjected to wild, irrational mood swings are the most susceptible. BPD is, if you would like it put simply, those extremes of emotion you might feel from time to time ratcheted up to 11 and happening virtually every day. BPD is emotion magnified and amplified.

Offense becomes anger, anger becomes rage, rage becomes fury. A lot of rage junkies are BPD. It's not just fear of abandonment, it's terror. Shifts in emotion can produce panic, mania, and horror. Love becomes obsession. There's virtually no way to regulate it. Once it kicks in, rational thinking stops. Things that should make sense to most people don't make sense to the sufferer. Logical thinking becomes impossible. People can explain things to you reasonably and thoroughly, but your mind can't accept them. Every worry can turn into a soul-crushing depression. Every fear can turn into screaming paranoia.

No, you can't control it. (Though as you read on, you'll see that this girl now has a strategy.) For my entire life, I have been searching for a key to unlock this straitjacket. When it kicks in, it's virtually impossible to stop. It has to build to a crescendo, a sort of anti-orgasm made of nuclear-fueled insecurity, before something makes it break. Then you return to normal and all you can do is try to cope with the fallout.

BPD people know what's going on. Maybe not in the moment. We can't always see what's happening, which frightens and confuses us more. Like the comedian John Mulaney said, "We don't want us to do this either." We know what happened once it's over, though, but not all the horror, regret, shame, and remorse can change what happened, and it won't stop it from happening again. Sometimes we even see ourselves starting down that road once it starts, but recognizing it doesn't help. Quickly it takes over our thinking, both rational and emotional, and whatever perception we had that we thought could rescue us vanishes. Then it's down the rabbit hole, where nothing makes sense and nothing stops the descent.

I have said and done terrible things during episodes. I have said and done them knowing *at the time* that they were terrible, yet I was powerless to stop them. That is what people do not understand, but perhaps these words will express to the unknowing the misery of this disorder. When I was in rehab for drinking, our facilitator used the phrase, "Somebody else is driving the bus." That is almost exactly it. Most of the time, Cleo is driving the bus, but when an episode kicks in, Cleo becomes an observer in her own head. Somebody else is driving the bus.

It happens in an instant. No warning. One instant it's not there. The next, it is. Nothing you can do will prevent it.

That driver is like a separate entity living inside you. Full disclosure: I also suffer from dissociative identity disorder, which manifests mildly for me, but dissociation is far from unknown among BPD sufferers. In fact, most people dissociate at one time or another. Ever state into space without thinking, then snap out of it? Not know how you got from point A to point B in your car, though you were driving the whole time? Ever "zone out"? That's dissociation.

But dissociative identity disorder, that's a different thing. It's what used to be called "multiple personality disorder," and the full range of the disorder is only recently becoming known. It was thought, classically, to be rapid switching from one identity to another, but it is far more complex. There are shadow areas where multiple identities operate simultaneously, grades of consciousness, grades of awareness... When I use the phrase, "someone else is driving the bus," it can be anything from one identity seizing total awareness to the core identity (Cleo, "me") watching in horror while my body and all its behavior are being "driven" by some other consciousness.

That happens more often than people know. I have had entire conversations with people, watching in panic as things I would have never dreamed of saying in my right mind flew out of my mouth. I couldn't stop them. Screaming internally accomplishes nothing. Pleading internally for it to be over has no effect. I have lost jobs because of it. And worse. Nothing I can do stops it.

Until today. Triumph approacheth.

Some of you have heard me say that I can see through a brick wall in time. I am not normally a fast thinker. The obvious sometimes eludes me. Sometimes it takes forever for me to see a pattern. I'm just kind of slow that way. But understand, that BPD/DID combo, like I said, is almost its own entity. I do not embellish or exaggerate when I say it fights for survival. The fight to stay integrated every day...well, sometimes it's a battle royals. Thing is, though, that entity is almost entirely composed of parts of my subconscious. It knows all the tricks it needs to survive.

That means that this thing I finally cottoned onto today.. The pattern has been there for me to see for a long, long time. Today, for whatever reason, it finally became apparent. If spirituality bothers you, I apologize, but the other night, a 3-day BPD rampage ended with, again, me aghast at my behavior. But this time, there was something--the expression on my wife's face when it hit its peak--that I could clutch onto. I prayed. I prayed to the Goddesses to help me through, as I have before, but this time with leverage. I prayed to the Goddesses to teach me how to use that lever.

Here's what happened. Last night my wife said something that might have been mildly annoying to a normal person, but which triggered the cascade of emotions I have come to recognize as the beginning of an episode. I left the room so I could calm down and try to organize my thoughts. With some success, I came back to bed, but it didn't subside. When I awoke, the episode was still there waiting for me. Then came the usual cascade of what I call, and what my wife has come to dread hearing, "dumb shit." The volume wouldn't go down. The cat knocked my phone out of my hand. Taking off my headphones accidentally flipped my glasses off my face. The episode started building up to detonation.

After calming it down some, I talked with Callie about it. I told her she needed to know what was happening so she could cope with it. Then I noticed something was bothering her and asked if it was me. She said no, but said she didn't want to tell me because it would make matters worse. Then: the spark.

No, I said, tell me. If it has nothing to do with me, maybe this will give me a problem to solve that can take my mind off the episode.

As she told me, the pattern I have been waiting all my life to see finally unfolded before me. Years and years of similar moments came to me. How often, when I am in an episode, one of my kids, or a friend, or a loved one, will reach out to me for help or advice, and I make that problem my own. I focus all my analytical intensity on it. I dissect it. I sort it out. I take it apart, then reassemble it in a way that makes sense. At the end, a resolution.

And the episode is gone.

So for the first time, just today, came the conscious choice to fix someone else's problem in the hopes it would resolve mine. I've done it before, subconsciously, but today I made the choice, and it worked.

IT. WORKED.

Now, at long last, I have a strategy. I have to know I am in an episode. It has to be an actual issue. No brain teasers, nothing without consequence. It must be real, vital, and complex, and it must be someone for whom I care. But it can be done.

This year will complete my 59th and begin my 60th. I have been borderline since my early adolescence, maybe before. That is how long I have been searching for a resolution. It took until now to find it. Years of therapy, years of shadow work, years of medication. And it took me this long.

Triumph at last, and a euphoria not unlike gender euphoria. It's bittersweet, though. I think of all the hearts that wouldn't have hurt without it. All the damage done. The friendships lost. The loneliness. The guilt. The helplessness.

At least my remaining years have promise that none before did. Some people never get this far. My egg donor didn't. She never approached this. Until her last breath, she thought all her moods were justified. What I have is rare and precious. I am sorry my wife ever had to endure a moment of it, but she now knows she has my eternal gratitude for leading me here--and she has the promise that the future will be brighter, kinder, and calmer.

I'll take that. Eight days a week. Twenty-five hours a day.

[bloody-hands-pure-hearts1329]

There is no time for us...

TMNT Crossover Resident Evil Its playing at the time of last chapter. 

Part 1 of my new series enjoy!^^

New York Manhattan suriviors 13999 and my brothers and me, the name is Raphael and we protecting them.

Ten years ago we where only the guardians of the city. The heroes in the shadows how the media called us. Our enemies where the Shredder and his foot clan or some other scum from the streets.

Only the police and our few friends knew about our existenz and what we really are. Life was fine this time only some fights against the Shredder and other scum nothing to serious.

We enjoyed life the fullest well as much you can enjoy your live living in sewer and walking by night.

But all changed as the daughter of a rich man got sick and he tried all to save her. To our bad luck he found the t-virus.

At the beginning this virus was like a blessing it saved many lifes and healed many sick people but his shit had real bad side effects. The people who where once healed died and mutated to undead bastards. All they want now was FOOD!

Who got bit will sooner or later die and mutate to the same shit!

As hell broke lose we managed to save a really smart part of the citizen of NYC. My smartass brother Donnie and us started to build gigantic walls with the help off umbrella at this time we didnt know that this bastards where the reason for this shit.

But Donnie came behind it and we kicked their asses, we started to give the suriviors a new life behind the big walls we protect every day and night with soldiers and polices help.

April is the only friend we have left beside the chief. She  helps where she can, even thought she misses Casey her lover really  much.

We lost dad and Vernon while we build up the  city to some lickers fuckers with long tongues hate them like crazy.

This fucker infect them and because no one could do it I killed them! It  was not my father anymore okay and not our friend they died and   became real monsters!

The people accepted us quick because we are their only chance to survive this hell. Donnie kept on building things and weapons who help us against the undead and the flying monsters who are after our asses.

Mikey keeps the kids busy and plays with them while flirting with every girl who comes to close to him.

Leonardo is the leader with the major of the city, the police chief and me.

Yeah I became a leader of a special team. We go out every day searching for food and other much needed things. Our most important goal is to find other not infected surviviors and bring them in to our little city.

"Hey boss its time to go!" a voice familar voice calls me I stop writing and hide the book in a box full with some weapons. I grab my sais and put some guns and a winchester in the holder on my back shell before I open the door.

"Hey scarface are the others ready to go? " I ask one of men he is a ex-marine soldiers with scars all over his face thats why he gave himself this name.

"All ready" he saluted before me I nodded and followed out of my half destroyed house.

We walk over to the others. I have a team of ten men we where more but umbrella killed some with their fucking traps all over the city, this fuckers tried to destroy our city!

"Okay you know the plan like every day if one gets bitten you will kill them no exceptions!" I reminded all before they got in the two special cars and I jumped on my bike. Mikey and some other men let the gate down for us.

"LETS GO!" I shout and start the motor.

We drive for a while through the streets as I hear a scream of the flying bastards but they dont attack me but a car before me.

The beast pulls up the car in the air I drive faster and take a car wrack like a ramp to jump up in the air hitting the fucker with my motorcircle making it crash down while I land behind the car with the surviviors inside it.

I pulled the guns out and shoot at the flying fuck and jumped on it stabbing it a few times. I turn slowly around as I hear voices.

One of a woman the other of a man. He discussed with her and suddenly opened the door and throw her out.

"YOU THINK YOU CAN TALK LIKE THIS TO ME! I AM YOUR HUSBAND YOU SWORE ME YOUR LOYALITY!" he shouted at her.

I couldnt help but stare at her. She has light brown wavy hair reaching wild over her big breasts d  cup breasts or more. Her eyes where green or blue I couldnt decided it from the distance. Her face is round with full red lips or is it because it is bruised?  She wears only a blue tanktop with black highwaist jeans with some holes in them and a holder around her left tight with a big steak knife inside it.  The girl has killer curvers her waist was thiner than her big hips and butt, her legs long she had boots with iron heals on them and spikes on the tip.

"I tired of being with you I have no reason to stay with you my family is dead! I only stayed because we where better together and had more chances to survive! But if you treat me like this I prefer dead or a life as infected over being one second more with you!" she said loud back at him.

"YOU WILL NOT LEAVE ME!" the man shouts and gets out walking over to her it looks like he was about to hit her but then I heard a gun shoot.

She screams and holds her leg. "YOU WILL...." before he could shoot her again one of the fyling fuckers grabbed him and fly off with him screaming "ZOYA!"

"KIRILL!" she yells back and starts running after them. I run to her and grab her pull her against me my hand quick over her eyes as I see another flying bastard come flying towards the one who has her husband and both started to ripp the man in two pieces to devour them.

"ATPUSTI!" she screams tries to get away I let her go and the woman turns around staring at me.

Silence, then we hear the flying fuckers screaming and she runs to the car I jump in behind her.

"Who...."

"NOT THE TIME BABE! DRIVE!" I growl at her and she starts the motor and we speed off. The fuckers following us.

I growl as one of them gets down ready to attack us I smirk and pull a granate out of my bag beside my sais holders and throw it in to his fucking face! He swallows it and his head explodes.

I laugh while she screams and stops making me fall through the window. I look at her pissed before I look back before us was the big krater.

"Fuck okay babe slowly backwards" I told her she nods and drives backwards one more flying fuck want to attack but my team shoot him and he explodes in the air. I smirk looking at scareface and get back in beside the goddess.

"NO FUUCK!" I scream as I see her sitting there unconcious from the fucking blood loss I quick ripp a piece fro my mask and put it tight around her leg grabbing her and getting out with her.  Walking her over to scareface. "She needs help!" I told my team  Kiara the only woman in my team when April is not with us nods and helps me to get her in the car.

I walk over to my bike and growl how bad as I see my motorbike. "Fuck this!" growl and collect the pieces I throw them on to the truck and get up. "Back home!" I order my team and scarface starts driving off.

We make it back and I grab her and run with her to Donnie breaking in to his room and tell him to take care of her.

I stay beside him watching my bro pulling the bullet out of her leg and taking care of her wound.

"We need to talk with Leo to decide where she can stay" the egghead explains to me I pull her up in to my arms.

"She will stay in my room until we know that"I decide and carry her out with me in to my house. I smile as she sighing nuzzles herself closer to me.

"You safe here" I promise her and kick the door to my bedroom open and carry her over to my bed. I lay her down and pull her boots of her before I put a blanket over her.

Then I sit down on my chair and watch her laying there in my bed. She is not the first women I brough her but the others where sluts who wanted to only try out how it felt to fuck a mutant.

She is different in a good way I could feel it the way she looked at me.

A knock on my door rips me out of my thought I get up open it to see fearless.

"Where is she?" he asks me and looks over my shoulder at her.

"Her name is Zoya, she will stay with me until you have a place for her" I told my brother and followed him out in to my living room.

"There are bigger problems coming for us, Donnie cameras captured this tonight" he explains to me and shows me some umbrella and foot soldiers with big as tanks and a army of infected bastards behind them.

"How long until they arrive?" I ask him growling.

"In two days we need to prepare ourselves and get all ready in case we need to flee down in to the sewer" Leo decided I nodded.

"Are you nuts this people dont wana rott in the sewer thats their city our city Leo. We have the weapons to fight back!" I protested against his decision.

"Our weapons are not as strong as the one Umbrella and the Shredder is sending against us! Raphael! Are you blind? Even if we can stop this five tanks and the army of infected coming in to the city. There will come more of them. They will overpower us! And as one of the leader of this city its on me to decided what is the best for this city the human choose me not you for this place!" fearless growls at me.

"Do you really think the citizen are this weak? They been through hell like us as we lost Dad, Casey? The nerd Vernon. We are lucky that we could save April and all this people. They are counting on us Leo! Look what they build up they have food they have clothes and houses and they can walk free around without fearing that some fucking monster attack them! We have no right to take this away from them! " I yell at my brother as I hear footsteps.

"Sorry I dont mean to disturb your discussion but I am really thirsty and..." she falls back I quick catch her and pull her up sit her on my old couch.

"I will get you something stay here with my brother" I order her and quick go to my kitchen to get her some water.

As I come back seeing Leo kissing her hand, I growl as he walks over to me. "We will talk later Raph" he tells me while walking past me out of the room.

I roll my eyes  and make my way over to her and give her the bottle with water. She starts to drink it greedy taking big sips.

My eyes following her brown wavy locks down to her her baby face to her neck down her breasts waist, hips to her longs legs and her wound. I see her bandage slightly rosé from her blood.

So I decide she will not walk around until her wound is healed.

She stops and looks at me. "Thank you for all but I dont want to be a bother for you so if they find a place for me I will..."

"You can stay as long as you want!" interupt her quick dont know why but the thought of her leaving made me do it.

"Okay thank you I can cook food for us" she offers me I cant stop myself imagine her staying with her back to me cooking something nice while I walk over to hug her close. Taking in her sweet scent. The thought makes me churr.

"Are you okay? What was this sound?" she asks me worried and I look back at her feeling my face heating up.

"Nothing!" I tell her quick looking blushing away.

What the hell is happening to me?!

[testosteronetuesdays]

one from every category for whoever you like: 3, 26, 50, 72, 89

oh boy. 

idk who you are but you took the bait and now i’m NEVER gonna shut up

3 What is the meaning behind their name? Do they have any nicknames?

oh this is going to be fun as most of my characters don’t use their actual name to avoid the government 

Nox

her name is the same as the roman goddess for night she doesn't have any nicknames yet other then Nox. unfortunately I haven’t figured out what her given name is yet lol

Bai

her name means white. cause she’s albino. ha.ha. i’m so original 🙃 her nickname is little boy blue or lbb on missions or fancy pants when out and about

NotBa

his name means not your dad. :^) his real name is Ezichiel.

Massa

her name is the same as the location for the first Mosque in Africa with the last 2 letters dropped. Her given name is Yusra which means ease or comfort

Hansen

his name means son of Hans. his nickname is Diao which can mean a lot of different things, cool guy, artful, bird of pray.... dick. oh Diao... the twins may have given you this name but that doesn't mean its free of malice...

The Twins

Bigs and Lil’ both are nicknames made up by Bigs about who’s the older sister. (hint: it’s not Bigs) their actual names are Lilly or Baihe (Lil’) and Camillia or Chahua (Bigs)

Alma

her name means kind soul or little girl. she has no nicknames. too pure too good. can’t go on recon missions I love her.

Pegan

their name means that they are a godless heathen just the way they were meant to be. that is their name now. fuck you if you want to change that.

Glitch

see Pegan

Camp

see Glitch

26  Are they aware of their flaws?

Nox

unfortunately no which really stresses her out 

Bai

Nope. sister is clueless but when she does become aware she works her best to correct them

NotBa

He’s painfully aware. it’s killed people in the past.

Massa

she is mostly unaware of her flaws and often thinks she is peak person but if Nox ever actually gets out of her own head to point them out she’d start working on them in a heartbeat

Hansen

surprisingly yes. does he know how to solve the issue ? no. is he stuck in a screaming loop of self hatred over this ? who knows. he’s not gonna tell you.

The Twins

acutely, they are both kids still and haven’t had much time to self reflect but i’d say they are both well on their way to being the most well rounded individuals

Alma

she is perfect. what are you saying ? 

Pegan

yep. that’s why they need others around to balance it all out.

Glitch

see Pegan.

Camp

see Glitch.

50 How would you describe their style of clothing? How would they describe their style of clothing? 

Nox

Nox wears an interesting assortment of shitty clothes you could probably find at hot topic in the scene section but only if you excavated it from a 100 year old dumpster and then hit it with your car. she loves wearing yellow but needs to wear darker colors to sneaky better. she’s a thief at heart and half her clothes are either cut up with a knife to help with the summer heat or stitched together to help with the windy winters

she’d describe her style as one that gets the job done. 

Bai

Bai wears a sort of neo-ming dynasty style. A lot of the clothing is very flowy and reminiscent of one of the last great chinese empires back when their culture was “without corruption”. a political fashion that evolved from Beijing specifically to raise national pride post war as part of their cultural growth efforts. her favorite colours are soft blues accented with purples.

she would describe her style as elegant and modest.

NotBa

NotBa wears patched up clothes, often pieces of his old peace corps uniform that are well worn and soft he has a sweater that he absolutely loves to death. Cable knit and comfortable as all hell. he’s almost always wearing his Kippa and tzitzit. his favorite colours are dark green and cream colours

he would say his style is a reminder to him about his past and his promises for the future. except his sweater. he fuckin loves that sweater

Massa

Massa wears clothes that are more so something you might find in the 90′s dull pinks, blues and purples accented with her turquoise scarf that she pulls up for prayer. she often wears pull over fleecy sweaters with a zipper that ends around her chest. you know the one.

She would describe her style as functional but colorful

Hansen

Hansen wears yoga capris he stitched pockets on to create cargos. that’s all you need to know about him. he is horrible and every day I have to spend thinking about him is a day robbed from me.

He would say he has the best style. functional, comfortable and unique.

The Twins

Bigs wears a worn out backwards baseball cap (cause she is a cool 90′s kid and a little bby buch lesbian) almost always while rocking that good old blue rainboots, shorts, sweater combo. Lil’ has a hair clip with a plastic flower on it (again think 90s for these kids) she at least tucks her zip off cargo pants into her pink rainboots but makes up for her common sense by leaving her coat tied around her waist almost always so she’s running around in a tank top all the time. Bigs loves wearing blues and darker colours while Lil’ loves pinks and softer colours.

they would both say their styles suit them just fine and if you have anything to say about it they don’t care.

Alma

Alma loves flowy skirts and stripes, she often wears a striped long sleeved shirt paired with a tea length skirt and work boots. she often wears thermal leggings to fight off the cold because of this but she doesn't care. she feels cute. she loves to wear soft and light greens and darker colors or black. a pencil is almost always tucked into her braids and if she hasn’t already added pockets to her outfit she’s wearing her pocket belt. made from an old army jacket.

She would discribe her style as not very practical but pretty.

Pegan

Pegan learned how to sew as a child and oh my god. you can tell. think punk queer trash meets high fashion but make it functional. They love to take formal wear rip it apart and add fishnets or a tear away skirt or just mix men's and women's fasion. They are a drag performer after all. Pegan also wears heavy heavy makeup most of the time to help fool the facial recognition technology littered throughout the city.

They would discribe their style as incredibly practical and calculated. Everything they wear has a reason

Glitch

Glitch wears a lot of black accented with neon blues. Think scene but also hacker geek chic and you have glitch. Zei also have to make a lot of zeir clothes comfortable to wear while using a chair and Pegan is usually more then happy to help.

Zei would discribe zeir style as being very fasion and not to much function. Zei are all about the aesthetics

Camp

Camp wears a lot of loose clothing especially pants but prefers a tighter shirt. turtle necks are also a big thing in his wardrobe even if it's a sleeveless one.

He has no idea how to discribe his style he's blind. Comfortable for him and it makes all the wrong people uncomfortable which is just a bonus to him.

72 would they rather have stability or comfort?

Oh fuck

Nox

For her it's the same thing. To be stable is to be comfortable

Bai

Comfort. She's stupid rich. She dosen't know what instability is.

NotBa

Comfort. Stability can follow but he just wants to rest. This man is so. Fucking. Tired.

Massa

Stability. See Nox.

Hansen

Comfort. He has had one of the more stable up bringings having been with Notba the longest and would like to feel some of that sweet sweet comfort.

The Twins

Stability. They are the newest to the haven and are still getting used to it all

Alma

Comfort. See Hansen.

Pegan

To be comfortable is to be stable. They are one in the same.

Glitch

Comfort. For glitch having all their acess needs met with less work would be much more welcome then stability any day.

Camp

Stability. He had some of the most unstable upbringings you can imagine. He'd like to feel what it's like to have both feet on solid ground for once.

89 what is their dnd alignment?

Ok now I KNOW who sent this...

Nox

True neutral I'd say. She's ok with doing stuff with the law if it fits her situation but she has 0 issues breaking it too. Has no strong feelings about the government as she dosen't really have time to think about it. She just needs to survive.

Bai

Chaotic good. This girl grew up sheltered but then someone pegan told her what crime was and she has never looked back she goes hard for the resistance and gives no shits that they were resisting her like 3 minutes ago. Fuck the system.

NotBa

Lawful good. This man. He is so tired. He will turn a blind eye to your crimes and pretend he has no idea what is going on but you can not pay him to commit a crime. Lit.er.ally.

Massa

Chaotic nuteral. She does what will benefit her the most while causing a little chaos along the way. As a treat.

Hansen

Lawful neutral. He does what will benefit him and his family and will do so in a way that causes the least amount of trouble.

The Twins

Chaotic good. These girls know what is UP. They hate the government. They want it to go DOWN they will break every law they can on the way to doing it.

Alma

Lawful neutral. She can not legally commit a crime except existing I guess but she has no strong feelings either way about the government. Mainly because she spends almost all of her time in the haven

Pegan

Chaotic good. You can fit so many felonies into this bad them. *slaps ass like a car hood* Pegan helps lead the resistance. They love crimes and being a criminal. Everything they do is a crime. Their clothes? Stolen. The money they have? It's from sex work. The bagel they are eating? Made in an illigal bakery that follows religious laws which are illigal with the money that they got from doing illigal things. Gay rights !

Glitch

Neutral good. Won't go out of zir way to commit a crime and prefers to play it by the book but also fuck the government you feel ?

Camp

Lawful neutral. If pressed will commit a crime but frankly it makes him anxious and he would really rather stay home and make soup.

[blackphoenixalchemylab]

American Gods Returns To BPAL!

++ AMERICAN GODS 2017

The paradigms were shifting. He could feel it. The old world, a world of infinite vastness and illimitable resources and future, was being confronted by something else-a web of energy, of opinions, of gulfs.

People believe, thought Shadow. It's what people do. They believe. And then they will not take responsibility for their beliefs; they conjure things, and do not trust the conjurations. People populate the darkness; with ghosts, with gods, with electrons, with tales. People imagine, and people believe: and it is that belief, that rock-solid belief, that makes things happen.

The mountaintop was an arena; he saw that immediately. And on each side of the arena he could see them arrayed.

They were too big. Everything was too big in that place.

There were old gods in that place: gods with skins the brown of old mushrooms, the pink of chicken flesh, the yellow of autumn leaves. Some were crazy and some were sane. Shadow recognized the old gods. He'd met them already, or he'd met others like them. There were ifrits and piskies, giants and dwarfs. He saw the woman he had met in the darkened bedroom in Rhode Island, saw the writhing green snake-coils of her hair. He saw Mama-ji, from the carousel, and there was blood on her hands and a smile on her face. He knew them all.

He recognized the new ones, too.

Neil Gaiman is the winner of numerous literary honors and is the New York Times bestselling author of The Ocean at the End of the Lane, American Gods, Neverwhere, Stardust and Anansi Boys; the Sandman series of graphic novels; three short story collections and one book of essays, The View From the Cheap Seats.

Neil is the first author to win both the Carnegie Medal and the Newbery Medal for one work, The Graveyard Book. He also writes books for readers of all ages including the novels Fortunately, the Milk and Odd and the Frost Giants and picture books including The Sleeper and the Spindle and the Chu's Day series. Neil's most recent publication, Norse Mythology has topped bestseller lists worldwide.

Originally from England, he now lives in the USA. He is listed in the Dictionary of Literary Biography as one of the top ten living post-modern writers, and he says he owes it all to reading the Writers' & Artists' Yearbook as a young man.

This series based on Neil Gaiman's American Gods, winner of the Hugo, Nebula, Locus, SFX Magazine and Bram Stoker Awards for Best Novel, and now a Starz television series.

Visit Neil's official site, American Gods at Starz, and NeverWear.

This is a charitable, not-for-profit venture: proceeds from every single bottle go to the CBLDF, which works to preserve and protect the First Amendment rights of the comics community.

Original American Gods art by Hugo-winner Julie Dillon.

PERFUME OIL BLENDS $26.00 per 5ml bottle. Presented in an amber apothecary glass vial.

Believe

Shadow was in a dark place, and the thing staring at him wore a buffalo's head, rank and furry with huge wet eyes. Its body was a man's body, oiled and slick.

"Changes are coming," said the buffalo without moving its lips. "There are certain decisions that will have to be made." 

Firelight flickered from wet cave walls.

"Where am I?" Shadow asked.

"In the earth and under the earth," said the buffalo man. "You are where the forgotten wait." His eyes were liquid black marbles, and his voice was a rumble from beneath the world. He smelled like wet cow. "Believe," said the rumbling voice. "If you are to survive, you must believe."

"Believe what?" asked Shadow. "What should I believe?"

He stared at Shadow, the buffalo man, and he drew himself up huge, and his eyes filled with fire. He opened his spit-flecked buffalo mouth and it was red inside with the flames that burned inside him, under the earth.

"Everything," roared the buffalo man.

A scent of compression and release, of heat and faith, of plunging through the jet-shadowed darkness of uncertainty. The heart of the land: roots plunging ever deeper into thrumming black soil through the graves of faith, disillusion, and skepticism.

Bilquis

The Queen of Sheba, half-demon, they said, on her father's side, witch woman, wise woman, and queen, who ruled Sheba when Sheba was the richest land there ever was, when its spices and its gems and scented woods were taken by boat and camel-back to the corners of the earth, who was worshipped even when she was alive, worshipped as a living goddess by the wisest of kings, stands on the sidewalk of Sunset Boulevard at 2:00 A.M. staring blankly out at traffic like a slutty plastic bride on a black-and-neon wedding cake. She stands as if she owns the sidewalk and the night that surrounds her.

Honey, myrrh, lily of the valley, rose otto, fig leaf, almond, ambrette, red apple, and warm musk.

Black Hats

"So who were the guys that grabbed me in the parking lot? Mister Wood and Mister Stone? Who were they?" The lights of the car illuminated the winter landscape. Wednesday had announced that they were not to take freeways because he didn't know whose side the freeways were on, so Shadow was sticking to back roads. He didn't mind. He wasn't even sure that Wednesday was crazy.

Wednesday grunted. "Just spooks. Members of the opposition. Black hats."

"I think," said Shadow, "that they think they're the white hats."

"Of course they do. There's never been a true war that wasn't fought between two sets of people who were certain they were in the right. The really dangerous people believe that they are doing whatever they are doing solely and only because it is without question the right thing to do. And that is what makes them dangerous."

"And you?" asked Shadow. "Why are you doing what you're doing?"

"Because I want to," said Wednesday. And then he grinned. "So that's all right."

Gunpowder residue, patent leather, pomade, and aftershave.

Coin Trick

Shadow had done three years in prison. He was big enough and looked don’t-fuck-with-me enough that his biggest problem was killing time. So he kept himself in shape, and taught himself coin tricks, and thought a lot about how much he loved his wife. 

 The best thing—in Shadow’s opinion, perhaps the only good thing—about being in prison was a feeling of relief. The feeling that he’d plunged as low as he could plunge and he’d hit bottom. He didn’t worry that the man was going to get him, because the man had got him. He was no longer scared of what tomorrow might bring, because yesterday had brought it.

Glittering gold and silver, rolling over knuckles - concealed in palms - and pulled from the sun, the moon, and the stars.

Eostre of the Dawn

There was a woman sitting on the grass, under a tree, with a paper tablecloth spread in front of her, and a variety of Tupperware dishes on the cloth.

She was-not fat, no, far from fat: what she was, a word that Shadow had never had cause to use until now, was curvaceous. Her hair was so fair that it was white, the kind of platinum-blonde tresses that should have belonged to a long-dead movie starlet, her lips were painted crimson, and she looked to be somewhere between twenty-five and fifty.

As they reached her she was selecting from a plate of deviled eggs. She looked up as Wednesday approached her, put down the egg she had chosen, and wiped her hand. "Hello, you old fraud," she said, but she smiled as she said it, and Wednesday bowed low, took her hand, and raised it to his lips.

He said, "You look divine."

"How the hell else should I look?" she demanded, sweetly. "Anyway, you're a liar. New Orleans was such a mistake-I put on, what, thirty pounds there? I swear. I knew I had to leave when I started to waddle. The tops of my thighs rub together when I walk now, can you believe that?" This last was addressed to Shadow. He had no idea what to say in reply, and felt a hot flush suffuse his face. The woman laughed delightedly. "He's blushing! Wednesday, my sweet, you brought me a blusher. How perfectly wonderful of you. What's he called?"

"This is Shadow," said Wednesday. He seemed to be enjoying Shadow's discomfort. "Shadow, say hello to Easter."

Jasmine and honeysuckle, sweet milk and female skin.

For the Joy of it

In prison Shadow had learned there were two kinds of fights: don't fuck with me fights, where you made it as showy and impressive as you could, and private fights, real fights, which were fast and hard and nasty, and always over in seconds.

"Hey, Sweeney," said Shadow, breathless, "why are we fighting?"

"For the joy of it," said Sweeney, sober now, or at least, no longer visibly drunk. "For the sheer unholy fucken delight of it. Can't you feel the joy in your own veins, rising like the sap in the springtime?" His lip was bleeding. So was Shadow's knuckle.

Whiskey, mead, honey, gold, sweat, and blood.

Glass Eye

"How'd you lose your eye?"

Wednesday shoveled half a dozen pieces of bacon into his mouth, chewed, wiped the fat from his lips with the back of his hand. "Didn't lose it," he said. "I still know exactly where it is."

The depths of Mímisbrunnr: mugwort and frankincense, grey amber and ash.

Laura

There was something he wanted to say to Laura, and he was prepared to wait until he knew what it was. The world slowly began to lose light and color. Shadow's feet were going numb, while his hands and face hurt from the cold. He burrowed his hands into his pockets for warmth, and his fingers closed about the gold coin.

He walked over to the grave.

"This is for you," he said.Several shovels of earth had been emptied onto the casket, but the hole was far from full. He threw the gold coin into the grave with Laura, then he pushed more earth into the hole, to hide the coin from acquisitive grave diggers. He brushed the earth from his hands and said, "Good night, Laura." Then he said, "I'm sorry."

Violets, upturned earth, mothballs, formaldehyde (mixed with glycerin and lanolin), and the memory of the taste of strawberry daiquiris suspended in twilight.

Low Key Lyesmith

"Cigarette, sir?"

"No, thank you."

"You don't mind if I do?"

"Go right ahead."

The driver used a Bic disposable lighter, and it was in the yellow light of the flame that Shadow saw the man's face, actually saw it for the first time, and recognized him, and began to understand.

Shadow knew that thin face. He knew that there would be close-cropped orange hair beneath the black driver's cap, cut close to the scalp. He knew that when the man's lips smiled they would crease into a network of rough scars.

"You're looking good, big guy," said the driver.

"Low Key?" Shadow stared at his old cellmate warily.

Prison friendships are good things: they get you through bad places and through dark times. But a prison friendship ends at the prison gates, and a prison friend who reappears in your life is at best a mixed blessing.

"Jesus. Low Key Lyesmith," said Shadow, and then he heard what he was saying and he understood. "Loki," he said. "Loki Lie-Smith."

"You're slow," said Loki, "but you get there in the end." And his lips twisted into a scarred smile and embers danced in the shadows of his eyes.

Black clove and cassia flung onto glowing cinders and mingled with slow-dripping poisons.

Mad Sweeney

"Coin tricks is it?" asked Sweeney, his chin raising, his scruffy beard bristling. "Why, if it's coin tricks we're doing, watch this.

"He took an empty glass from the table. Then he reached out and took a large coin, golden and shining, from the air. He dropped it into the glass. He took another gold coin from the air and tossed it into the glass, where it clinked against the first. He took a coin from the candle flame of a candle on the wall, another from his beard, a third from Shadow's empty left hand, and dropped them, one by one, into the glass. Then he curled his fingrs over the glass, and blew hard, and several more golden coins dropped into the glass from his hand. He tipped the glass of sticky coins into his jacket pocket, and then tapped the pocket to show, unmistakably, that it was empty.

"There," he said. "That's a coin trick for you."

Barrel-aged whiskey and oak.

Mama-Ji

Shadow saw the old woman, her dark face pinched with age and disapproval, but behind her he saw something huge, a naked woman with skin as black as a new leather jacket, and lips and tongue the bright red of arterial blood. Around her neck were skulls, and her many hands held knives, and swords, and severed heads.

Spices, cardamom, nutmeg, and flowers.

Media

Waiting for them in front of the motel was a woman Shadow did not recognize. She was perfectly made-up, perfectly coiffed. She reminded him of every newscaster he'd ever seen on morning television sitting in a studio that didn't really resemble a living room.

"Lovely to see you," she said. "Now, you must be Czernobog. I've heard a lot about you. And you're Anansi, always up to mischief, eh? You jolly old man. And you, you must be Shadow. You've certainly led us a merry chase, haven't you?" A hand took his, pressed it firmly, looked him straight in the eye. "I'm Media. Good to meet you. I hope we can get this evening's business done as pleasantly as possible."

A news anchor's cologne, a soap star's perfume: perfect, pixelated, and glamorous; aglow with cathodes and anodes, coated with phosphor. "I offered you the world," she said. "When you're dying in a gutter, you remember that."

Mister Wednesday

His hair was a reddish gray; his beard, little more than stubble, was grayish red. A craggy, square face with pale gray eyes. The suit looked expensive, and was the color of melted vanilla ice cream. His tie was dark gray silk, and the tie pin was a tree, worked in silver: trunk, branches, and deep roots.

He held his glass of Jack Daniel's as they took off, and did not spill a drop.

Sleek cologne, the memory of a Nine Herbs Charm, gallows wood, and a splash of whiskey.

Mr. Czernobog

Shadow saw a gray-haired old Eastern-European immigrant, with a shabby raincoat and one iron-colored tooth, true. But he also saw a squat black thing, darker than the darkness that surrounded them, its eyes two burning coals; and he saw a prince, with long flowing black hair and a long black mustache, blood on his hands and his face, riding, naked but for a bear skin over his shoulder, on a creature half-man, half-beast, his face and torso blue-tattooed with swirls and spirals.

Unfiltered cigarettes, the leather and metal of sledgehammers, aortal blood slowly drying, and black incense.

Mr. Ibis

The smoke stung Shadow's eyes. He wiped the tears away with his hand, and, through the smoke, he thought he saw a tall man in a suit, with gold-rimmed spectacles. The smoke cleared and the boatman was once more a half-human creature with the head of a river bird.

Papyrus, vanilla flower, Egyptian musk, African musk, aloe ferox, white sandalwood.

Mr. Jacquel

Shadow looked up at the creature. "Mr. Jacquel?" he said.

The hands of Anubis came down, huge dark hands, and they picked Shadow up and brought him close.

The jackal head examined him with bright and glittering eyes; examined him as dispassionately as Mr. Jacquel had examined the dead girl on the slab. Shadow knew that all his faults, all his failings, all his weaknesses were being taken out and weighed and measured; that he was, in some way, being dissected, and sliced, and tasted.

We do not remember the things that do no credit to us. We justify them, cover them in bright lies or with the thick dust of forgetfulness. All of the things that Shadow had done in his life of which he was not proud, all the things he wished he had done otherwise or left undone, came at him then in a swirling storm of guilt and regret and shame, and he had nowhere to hide from them. He was as naked and as open as a corpose on a table, and dark Anubis the jackal god was his prosector and his prosecutor and his persecutor.

"Please," said Shadow. "Please stop."

But the examination did not stop. Every lie he had ever told, every object he had stolen, every hurt he had inflicted on another person, all the little crimes and the tiny murders that make up the day, each of these things and more were extracted and held up to the light by the jackal-headed judge of the dead.

Golden amber, hyssop, North African patchouli, and embalming spices.

Shadow

"How the hell did you find me here?" he asked his dead wife.

She shook her head slowly, amused. "You shine like a beacon in a dark world," she told him. "It wasn't that hard..."

Grey oudh and bay rum luminous with amber.

Technical Boy

The fat young man at the other end of the stretch limo took a can of diet Coke from the cocktail bar and popped it open. He wore a long black coat, made of some silky material, and he appeared barely out of his teens: a spattering of acne glistened on one cheek. He smiled when he saw that Shadow was awake."Hello, Shadow," he said. "Don't fuck with me."

It's all about the dominant fucking paradigm, Shadow. Nothing else is important: vape smoke and burning electrical parts.

The Ifrit

The taxi driver comes out of the shower, wet, with a towel wrapped around his midsection. He is not wearing his sunglasses, and in the dim room his eyes burn with scarlet flames.

Salim blinks back tears. "I wish you could see what I see," he says.

"I do not grant wishes," whispers the ifrit, dropping his towel and pushing Salim gently, but irresistibly, down onto the bed.

Desert sand, red musk, blackened ginger, dragon's blood resin, black pepper, cinnamon, and tobacco.

The Norns' Farmhouse

The farmhouse was dark and shut up. The meadows were overgrown and seemed abandoned. The farm roof was crumbling at the back; it was covered in black plastic sheeting. They jolted over a ridge and Shadow saw it there.

It was silver-gray and it was higher than the farm-house. It was the most beautiful tree Shadow had ever seen: spectral and yet utterly real and almost perfectly symmetrical. It also looked instantly familiar: he wondered if he had dreamed it, then he realized that no, he had seen it before, or a representation of it man, many times. It was Wednesday's silver tie pin.

The VW bus jolted and bumped across the meadow, and it came to a stop about twenty feet from the trunk of the tree.

There were three women standing by the tree. At first glance Shadow thought they were the Zorya, but no, they were three women he did not know. They looked tired and bored, as if they had been standing there a long time. Each of them held a wooden ladder. The biggest also carried a brown sack. They looked like a set of Russian dolls: a tall one - she was Shadow's height, or even taller - a middle-sized one, and a woman so short and hunched that at first glance Shadow wrongly supposed her to be a child. They looked so much alike that Shadow was certain the women must be sisters.

The smallest of the women dropped to a curtsey when the bus drew up. The other two just stared. They were sharing a cigarette, and they smoked it down to the filter before one of them stubbed it out against a root.

Dusty, ancient wood, horehound, and sage, with viper's bugloss, mugwort, chamomile, nettle, apple blossom, chervil, and ashes.

Zorya Polunochnaya

Her hair was pale and colorless in the moon's thin light. She wore a white cotton nightgown, with a high lace neck and a hem that swept the ground. Shadow sat up, entirely awake. "You are Zorya Polu . . . ," he hesitated. "The sister who was asleep."

"I am Zorya Polunochnaya, yes. And you are called Shadow, yes? That was what Zorya Vechernyaya told me, when I woke."

"Yes. What were you looking at, out there?"

She looked at him, then she beckoned him to join her by the window. She turned her back while he pulled on his jeans. He walked over to her. It seemed a long walk, for such a small room.

He could not tell her age. Her skin was unlined, her eyes were dark, her lashes were long, her hair was to her waist and white. The moonlight drained colors into ghosts of themselves. She was taller than either of her sisters.

She pointed up into the night sky. "I was looking at that," she said, pointing to the Big Dipper. "See?"

"Ursa Major," he said. "The Great Bear."

"That is one way of looking at it," she said. "But it is not the way from where I come from. I am going to sit on the roof. Would you like to come with me?" 

Pale amber and ambergris, gossamer vanilla, moonflower, and white tobacco petals.

Zorya Utrennyaya

"Why you are standing at the door?" asked a woman's voice. Shadow looked over Czernobog's shoulder, at the old woman standing behind him. She was smaller and frailer than her sister, but her hair was long and still golden. "I am Zorya Utrennyaya," she said. "You must not stand there in the hall. You must go in, sit down. I will bring you coffee."

Sweet black coffee and a touch of ambrette seed.

Zorya Vechernyaya

"You see, I am the only one of us who brings in any money. The other two cannot make money fortune-telling. This is because they only tell the truth, and the truth is not what people want to hear. It is a bad thing, and it troubles people, so they do not come back. But I can lie to them, tell them what they want to hear. So I bring home the bread." 

Red musk and wild plum, orange blossom and jasmine, juniper berries, sweet incense and vetiver-laced sandalwood. ++ AMERICAN GODS 2017: ATMOSPHERE SPRAYS 

Bone Orchard

Back in prison, Low Key Lyesmith had once referred to the little prison cemetery out behind the infirmary as the Bone Orchard, and the image had taken root in Shadow's mind. That night he had dreamed of an orchard under the moonlight, of skeletal white trees, their branches ending in bony hands, their roots going deep down into the graves. There was fruit that grew upon the trees in the bone orchard, in his dream, and there was something very disturbing about the fruit in the dream, but on waking he could no longer remember what strange fruit grew on the trees, nor why he found it so repellent.

Clacking white sandalwood bones, grave soil, and the bruise-purple fruits of death and decay.

Crocodile Bar

It was getting late. He was hungry, and when he realized how hungry he really was, he pulled off at the next exit and drove into the town of Nottamun (pop. 1301). He filled the gas tank at the Amoco and asked the bored woman at the cash register where he could get something to eat.

"Jack's Crocodile Bar," she told him. "It's west on County Road N."

"Crocodile Bar?"

"Yeah. Jack says they add character." She drew him a map on the back of a mauve flyer, which advertised a chicken roast for the benefit of a young girl who needed a new kidney. "He's got a couple of crocodiles, a snake, one a them big lizard things."

"An iguana?"

"That's him."Through the town, over a bridge, on for a couple of miles, and he stopped at a low, rectangular building with an illuminated Pabst sign.

The parking lot was half empty. Inside the air was thick with smoke and "Walking After Midnight" was playing on the jukebox. Shadow looked around for the crocodiles, but could not see them. He wondered if the woman in the gas station had been pulling his leg.

Cedar shavings, a swirl of booze, a flattened French fry, and barbeque sauce.

That’s it for now, everyone -- Don’t forget to see AMERICAN GODS shine on Starz starting April 30!

[stacks-reviews]

New Releases 7/18/17

Happy New Release Day! There’s a lot going on in books, a few things in movies, and a certain beta I’ve been waiting on.

In Books –The Betrayal Knows My Name volume 7 by Hotaru Odagiri Yuki is an orphan with a strange ability to feel others emotions when he touches them. One day a beautiful stranger named Zess appears and saves Yuki before he can be hit by a car. Yuki feels like he knows this stranger from somewhere 

I have been waiting for this for FOUR YEARS. I checked yesterday and volume 6 came out in September of 2013. After volume 6 I would check every now and then like I do for the series I follow monthly but I never heard a word about it. After about a year I just finally came to terms that it had been canceled. Then they announced its return earlier this year. It has been on hiatus for Hotaru Odagiri’s health. I’m just glad it’s finally back. I really enjoyed it the series when it first came out except for the fact that I had trouble telling some of the characters apart. I will soon be rereading the whole series because I can’t remember what happened at the end of volume 6. There should be at least one more volume to go. Not long after they announced it’s return, they also announced that it would be ending soon. There is also a twenty-four episode anime based off the series that was released in sub titles only by Funimation earlier this year.

–Blood Mirror (The Lightbringer #4) by Brent Weeks (in paperback) This will contain spoilers if you have not read book 3 The Broken Eye of the Lightbringer series.  At the end of The Broken Eye Gavin Guile is powerless and is locked in the prison he made for his brother. Kip has fled the Chromeria with the help of his grandfather to try and slow the advance of the White Kings army. Karris is taking over as her duties of The White and will try to keep the empire from falling apart. Teia will go deeper into the spy organization she is infiltrating while also reporting on their actions to Karris. Ironfist has shown his true colors and has also left the Chromeria to continue his work for his true master.

I love this series. I had so many theories destroyed in this book but it also created a lot of new ones. I’m still numb from the realization in The Broken Eye that Andross might actually be the good guy here instead of the villain I’ve always seen him as. And where could I even start about Gavin. Then there’s Kip and what happened in this book. 

It’s a really great series. I love the ocular powers in this series. Just how it is set up, how each color has it’s own properties, and the consequences of using it too much. There are so many twists and turns. I really recommend this series if you haven’t read it yet.

–Dept. H volume 2 by Matt Kindt, water colorist Sharlene Kindt, and letterer Marie Enger Mia is a special investigator sent to research the murder of her father in a deep-sea research station. Everyone in the station is a suspect, including her own brother. 

Mind MGMT was my first experience with Matt Kindt’s work and I was blown away. The story is fantastic (I’m about to start volume 3 out of 6). The illustrations are amazing water colors. I had to read more of his work. And Dept. H did not disappoint. 

After waiting months for another copy of volume 1 to arrive at my work, I finally got to read it last week. It also has a great story with wonderful water colors. There was a moment where my jaw dropped open because chaos happened and it came out of nowhere. Not everything has been revealed yet. For example Mia has talked about her mother a few times and how she died from some kind of infection of which there is no cure. Although not expressly stated, it would appear that those in the station are trying to find a cure but even the fish they are examining might also be infected. Volume 1 was amazing and I can’t wait to read volume 2. 

–Kakegurui Compulsive Gambler volume 1 by Homura Kawamoto Hyakkaou Private Academy is an institution for the sons and daughters of the wealthy. here it’s learning how to read your opponent, the art of the deal that keeps you ahead. To hone those skills Hyakkaou Private Academy has a rigorous curriculum of gambling. Here the winners live like kings and the losers are put through the wringer.

I’m interested in this series because it reminds me of Liar Game by Shinobu Kaitani but with less murder. Maybe. There might be murder. I would like to give it a try because I love mind game series. Watching as L and Light played mind games with each other is a big part of the reason I enjoyed Death Note as much as I did. 

–Liselotte and Witch’s Forest volume 5 by Natsuki Takaya “They say that in a place far, far away; in the east, of the east, of the east…there is a forest where witches dwell. They are said to bestow blessings or inflict curses, brew potions in steaming cauldrons, practice their magic…and fly their brooms into the night sky. This is where Liselotte has decided to live after she was banished from her home by her brother.

The final volume of this cute series by the creator of Fruits Basket. It is still on hiatus while Natsuki Takaya looks after her health.

It is a cute series that follows Liselotte as she and two attendants live in the forest. One day she is saved by a stranger who looks a lot like a boy she was in love with who had died. Volume 4 never came to a bookseller near me and I haven’t had time to order it yet. 

–Monstress volume 2 (B&N exclusive edition) by Marjorie M. Liu, artist Sana Takeda, and letterer/designer Rus Wooton “Set in an alternate matriarchal 1900′s Asia, in a richly imagined world of art deco-inflected steam punk, Monstress tells the story of a teenage girl who is struggling to survive the trauma of war, and who shares a mysterious psychic link with a monster of tremendous power, a connection that will transform them both and make them the target of both human and otherworldly powers.”

The Cumea are a race of sorcerers who experiment and kill a race called Arcanics, magical creatures with human characteristics. Maika; who is suffering from some memory loss, is an Arcanic who’s mother was killed by a Cumea. Desiring answers Maika infiltrates  a sorcerers home and chaos ensues because of the ancient god who is living inside of Maika. 

It’s been a while since I read the first volume and a friend is currently borrowing it so I don’t have much to fall back on for more details. I enjoyed the first volume. It was dark, violent, beautifully illustrated, and has a very rich world building. The series; at least from what I’ve heard cause I haven’t seen many cats (talking cats, what’s not to love about that) in the graphic novels I’ve read lately, has some of the best cats in graphic novels right now. 

I actually saw where the B&N exclusive edition arrived last week to my local B&N but I also wanted to mention it on it’s official street date in case other B&N go it late for some reason.

–Princess Jellyfish volume 5 by Akiko Higashimura In the bustling city of Tokyo there resides a place called Amamizukan, a safe haven for girl geeks (otakus of trains, jellyfish, Japanese dolls, and more) who are terrified of ‘stylish’ people. One such girl is Tsukimi who loves jellyfish. One night she meets a stylish lady who helps her save the life of a jellyfish at a pet shop. This chance encounter will result in an odd friendship (at first anyway) between the two and the rest of the residents at Amamizukan. But this stylish girl is actually a boy.

It’s super cute shojo series that was made into an anime a while back. As well as a live-action film that according to one of my friends is very well done. 

–Twinkle Star volume 3 by Natsuki Takaya Sakuya lives with her cousin Kanade. In times of pain, she looks up at the stars. On her birthday a strange boy shows up at her house with a present and then leaves. At school she finds out his name is Chihiro and he just transferred there. He treats her coldly until an incident at the club information session. Will it bring them closer or will they forever remain in the dark?

Another cute series by Natsuki Takaya. I have the first volume but haven’t finished it yet. It is a completed series. There should be two more volumes after this one.

–Waiting for Spring volume 1 by Anashin Mizuki is a shy girl who is about to enter high school. She vowed to open herself up to new friendships but the four stars of the boys basketball team is not who she had in mind. Soon she’s targeted by jealous girls and forced into the spotlight. 

This just sounds like a really cute shojo series. 

In Video Games –Destiny 2 Beta The beta of Destiny 2 opens to all preordered PS4 versions of the game today. I’m really excited for it. 

In DVD/BLU-RAY –Adventure Time complete season 7 Finn, Jake, and the whole gang return. This season contains the miniseries Stakes starring Marceline and that creepy but good episode where we find out BMO’s imaginary friend Football is real and lives inside that mirror.

–K: Return of Kings The second season of the series K that takes place after the movies K: Missing Kings. It has been a while since I watched K and although I own the movie, I haven’t had time to watch it yet. K was really good and the animation was fantastic. It was gorgeous to watch. Return of Kings follows the events after Missing Kings.

–Record of Lodoss War (DVD/BLU-RAY combo pack) “In a land torn by war, young Parn and a ragtag team of adventurers set out to restore peace to the island of Lodoss. While an evil sorcerer seeks the destructive power of an ancient goddess, the Grey Witch presides over all with a  cold-hearted bent for neutrality. The ensuing battles cost many lives before a brave new generation of heroes rises to face the sinister enemies once and for all.”

This combo pack contains episodes 1-13 of the OVA series Record of Lodoss War and episodes 1-27 of Chronicles of a Heroic Knight. I’ve never seen the series before but I’ve heard of it several different times. I have one friend who loved the series when he first saw it years ago and was excited to hear that it was getting this release by Funimation. I really want to give it a try sometime. I looked up the trailer and it looks pretty good. The dub to it doesn’t sound that great because some of the characters in the trailer didn’t sound like they tried very hard. I’m hoping that it will improve in later episodes. As a general rule if an anime I purchase has a dub, I have to watch the dub first. Unless the dub is really bad then I may switch to subbed. Second watches I watch it subbed.