#technically this was from april but I never finished it

[autumnally-art]

A small sketch for Honami day :]

outfit ref:

[kathrynmjaneway]

somehow I started watching 911 on a whim and as a distraction on one random saturday and it took me thirteen (13!!!) days and i am completely caught up and wholeheartedly obsessed,,,,,,,, whoops

[remember-the-fanfics]

Belated April Fool's! Had this thought on the first but was at work so enjoy it now!

If GenZ!Overlord!Reader went to Heaven instead of hell

I lost any kind of format along the way, tell me if you find it, I would like it back.

• You appeared at the Golden/Pearly gates in a panic confused state, yelling as soon as you saw the person watching over the gate.

• Scaring Saint Peter which made him yell and then you both were yelling

"Why are you screaming?!"

"Because you were screaming!"

"Well I'm sorry for screaming! Where am I?!

• Saint Peter told you this was Heaven and ask for your name, after giving it he confirmed you were ment to be here.

• Asking him how you died because it was a blur to remember

• Telling you only the Seraphim would know and that you would get some of it back when you adjust to being a Winner.

• Cue you walking off to find a Seraphim before he finished and Peter quickly following you because you have no idea where you were going.

• Quickly running into Emily talking to some winners, seeing you with Peter went to greet you.

• Seeing you were young, more young than most Winners when they appear, most usually have mid 20's to mid 40's age look.

• Asking her if she would know how you died.

• Emily telling you that Sera would know being the High Seraphim.

"Why is her name is just a part of Seraphim?"

• Emily lead you and Peter to Sera's office.

• Sera confused on why would Emily and Peter bring a new winner to her.

• Asking your question again, Sera repeated Peter saying you'll remember in time.

"I wasn't alone before I died! I just want to know if-."

"You're sibling is alive, you made quite sure of that."

"Oh thank God... Wait can I say that here?"

• You left with Peter for him to show you to where you would stay in Heaven.

• You quickly became friends with Emily, getting to know most of the winners and angels that go to her.

• Emily enjoyed having someone younger than her to hang out with, well technically physically she's older than most of the winners but mentally she's older than you.

• She even showed you how to fly with your new wings with minor issues.

• You had barely any control to begin with so when you got high enough your wings decided to forget how to fly.

• Ending with you crashing on the ground or into people.

• One time you crashed into a window of Sera's office, one of your few injuries in Heaven.

"(Y/n)! You need to be more careful of yourself." Said Sera, quickly coming over to you. "Are you alright?"

"Oh shoot, I'm sorry!" You said getting off the ground trying to shake off shards of glass. "I told Emily that I shouldn't fly in the area yet.." You quickly noticed you had cuts, that were bleeding gold.

"You're injured, let's me see it." Said Sera before hovering her hand over you, with a subtle light, she had quickly healed your injuries. "There, you should be healed now."

You looked up at her with awe in your eyes.

"You can do magic?!"

• Quickly asking her if you could do magic

• Saying that you could probably do small amount like the rest of the winners to help with day to day.

• Emily came in and you rushed to her with a new found interest and Emily was quickly on border to help you learn

• Almost leaving Sera alone to clean up the mess you made before making your way back but she ushered you and Emily away saying she could handle it.

• Quickly your lessons with Emily turned into flying and magic lessons with the help of other winners.

• Finally getting the hag of flying, you flew through what magic that you could be taught from the winners.

• After finding an injured Angel that you never before with what hopefully not blood on them (you didn't ask)

• She did not want to be seen by any of the winner when you appeared out of nowhere.

• You were young for even a winner, she noticed quickly, wondering why a child was bothering her.

• Asking if her wing was alright, it looked like it went though hell.

• Saying yes before hissing in pain when you faintly touched it

"If you thought it was injured why would you touch it?!

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you!"

• Quickly shutting up when in a flash of light of your own, healed her wing.

• Still apologizing to her and introducing yourself.

• She introduced her self as Vaggie, saying she was apart of Heaven's Army.

• You obviously questioned why Heaven had an army since it's Heaven.

• Vaggie said it was for incase anything happened, explaining her injury as training gone wrong.

• You believed her, not knowing what day it was and where she was just before.

• You told her to be more careful and if she ever want, you could meet up again.

• After giving her where to usually find you during the day, leaving to find Emily to tell her.

• Emily was with Sera for the day, so you found both of them.

• Explaining what had happen to the two of them.

"You must be alot strong than most Winners, (Y/n)." Said Emily, looking to Sera for information.

"Yes, usually only Angel could heal or do any decent amount of magic, I'll have to see about." Said Sera. "Why don't you two go celebrate (Y/n)'s magic with some ice cream? I'll look into this."

• Sera quickly got into contact with the winner turned archangel, Adam, about meeting with you.

• Telling to not be to inappropriate around you nor tell you anything that he shouldn't.

• He said he would try atleast.

• You meet Adam and Lute at a train area that you never seen before because usally winner dont come over here

• Neither of the two was expecting someone so young so Adam didn't think you were actually (Y/n).

• After realizing who you were, instantly trys to get you make a holy beam of light to shot something because he's never really met someone who died and was possibly almost as powerful as he is.

• He's still number one

• After demonstrated what he ment, you did it on a less large scale because damn Adam just about destroyed a whole chunk of the ground.

"Well Danger tits, I don't think we're dealing with a winner anymore. They're fucking archangel like me!" Said Adam watching you do some minor things he showed you.

"Do you think Sera would let them know or join us, sir?" Asked Lute.

"Ha fuck no." Said Adam laughing, "If you haven't noticed they close with Emily and they're a kid."

"The file that Sera sent over is that they died just after they turned 18." Said Lute. "...Protecting their brother, sir." Adam stiffened at the mentioned of it.

"Of course... the old man does like doing shit in mysterious ways." Said Adam, noticing (Y/n) was talking to another recruit.

"Hey Vauh-gie!" He yelled across the area before heading towards the two.

"Adam, sir." Said Vaggie, (Y/n) noticing the way Adam said Vaggies name.

"Why you over here talking to the recruit kid?" Asked Adam, using (Y/n) as something to lean on.

"Just catching up, she was wondering why I was here." Said (Y/n).

• Lute quickly got Vaggie to leave you and Adam some inane task while you told Adam he said Vaggie's name wrong.

• He told you he knew her name and he was correct but you defend her saying it's her name, she decided how it pronounced.

• You soon had weekly training with Adam and sometimes Lute, who wanted you to have some fighting skill.

• But Lute quickly found out that you wouldn't fight unless absolutely needed to

• Having a way with words you could talk down any arguments that the exorcists had when they would have solved it in a fight

• Lute would rather have them brawl than listen to another conversation about talking about your feelings.

• You quickly became a favorite among most of the exorcist, being around Adam and Lute most times.

• The two treated you like a kid most of the time when you weren't training.

• Adam saw the betterment of Humanity in you, reminding him of what his first two sons could have been like

• Being the opposite of what happened to Able and Cain does that.

• Lute saw you as reason to keep Heaven safe

• Not wanting you to ever actually use your training to protect yourself

• Because why would you? You're in Heaven, nothing can hurt you, right?

• You would show Emily what you could do after every training session.

• You learned how to make non-dangerous fireworks to help Emily bring joy to the winners.

• Sera would tell you that God had chosen you to be an archangel, that would usally come with a job but you were to young for any of it so she let you help with Emily job.

• You were a chaotic force of good to excit people, telling them new kind of jokes.

• Emily had to stop you from making to many dark humor jokes, everyday.

• Some Winners would ask if something was still a thing and you had no idea what they were talking about Like 'Wat?'

• Then them explaining what it was and purpose.

• You would never have to take a history class again with how much people talk about the past to you.

• Winners would forget that you are too young for something.

"You had to use a brick as phone?"

• Having friends with most angels and winners was nice, you were just as popular as Emily these days.

• Then Adam and Lute came back from what they told you was a training expedition that they do yearly.

• With Vaggies halo (they disposed of her wings, to graphic for you to see.)

• Lute and Adam explained that Vaggie had died in an accident after betraying Heaven.

"Oh... I thought Angels couldn't die?" You muttered, trying to wipe the tears from your eyes.

"She stopped being Protected by... the holy light when she betrayed us." Said Lute, trying to come up with an excuse.

"Don't think sweat about it, kid. You still have these two badasses here to keep you safe." Said Adam.

"I didn't think I could lose anyone here.

• The two tried to comfort you, never seeing you cry before.

• In their own messed up way.

• Cursing vaggie in vain in their heads.

• They hung around you the next few days, keeping you company while you mourn your friend.

• Emily would bring you snacks to try and cheer you up.

• Sera sent a letter saying that she wished you well and take the time you need.

• The next few year went in a blur, everyday was the same.

• Helping Emily with the winner, train with Adam and Lute, chat with Sera every few days, and having lunch with Saint Peter.

• You never would have guess that time worked differently than on earth.

• Definitely not expecting your younger brother showing up one day, being older than you.

• Finding you with Emily, the same age you were that day.

"(Y/n)?" He said looking right at you, you looked confused for a second before realizing who he was.

"Frederick? Freddy? What are you doing here?! You should be alive!" You said before rushing for a bone crushing hug.

"I died at 87, I'm guess time works differently up here." He said, "I knew you would be up here, I lived a good life and done good things just for the possibility to see you again."

"I missed you! Let me tell you everything!" You said,

• Introducing Emily to your brother and telling her you need to catch up.

• She excitedly ushered you away saying she can handle things.

• Emily told Sera after the day was done

• Frederick answered all your questions and you answered his.

"So am I your older brother now?"

"Not a chance. You're still my little brother, just not quite that little anymore."

• Introducing him to everyone, not taking an issue when Sera wanted to meet him alone.

• Sera wanted to see if he had any magical prowess like you did.

• He had more than a normal winner but not enough to be in the class of Archangel like you and Adam.

"Would you do anything to protect (Y/n)? They are quite naiveté when it comes to certain things, being so young when they died. You're older and wiser than them now."

• Sera gaslighting

• Frederick questioned where it was going and had to swear not to tell a soul about what Sera was about to say.

• He was surprised when told than Heaven sent angel down to hell to kill sinners.

• Sera telling him that she didn't tell (Y/n) about this because of their age and unwilling to hurt people without reason.

• But he had time and age to come to term that somethings need to happen for the greater good.

• So he joined in with Adam and Lute, training for the extermination day.

• Telling you that he wanted to train his magic as well with them.

• Adam meeting the last peice of the puzzle of your death, who you died protecting, your own brother.

• Adam got along with him well enough, being a bad influence on him.

• Lute trained him on fighting, going hard to make sure he could protect Heaven and you.

• Probably had a version of out of love, the toxic version.

• After another portion of time, Emily told you that the princess of hell was coming for a meeting to talk about the redemption of sinners souls.

• You were excited about the concept, seeing potential about it.

• Youre brother didn't think so, telling you that they were in Hell for a reason.

• Sera didn't want Emily or you to meet anyone coming from Hell but the two of you convinced her.

• Meeting up with the group after they got past the gate.

• Seeing Charlie and someone who looked very familiar

• Clapping after Peter and Emily's song.

"Good job Em and Pete!" You said cheering the two.

"So um who are exactly?" Asked Charlie, exited to meet another angel.

"Oh I'm (Y/n), I help Emily to keep the Winners happy. I'm an winner turned Archangel like old man Adam." Introducing yourself to the two.

"You're friends with Adam?!" Said Charlie, not expecting Adam to actually have friends.

"Yep, trained me. He's been training my brother now of days, Freddy."

• She wasn't expecting you to be siblings with one of the main antagonist from her meeting with Adam.

• Frederick kept shutting her idea down and trashed talked her along with Lute.

• You were the exact opposite of your brother.

• When Adam, Lute, and your brother saw you with Charlie and Vaggie showing them around with Emily and Sera.

• They were pissed, Lute had to stop both from trying to fight them in the open.

"They don't need to be influenced by a hellspawn."

• When Adam and Lute went to bothered Vaggie, Frederick went to you to the Zoo.

• Keeping an eye on Charlie and making side japs at her until you intervened.

"Dude if you're gonna be a butt to her then leave."

• He quickly stopped making fun of Charlie, just stared at her from your side.

• With Lute and Adam, they questioned if you realized who Vaggie was.

• With a no, they said how unimportant she must have been.

• In the court room, you stood next Adam.

• Pointing out hole in his responses.

• After believing that this Angel Dust should be here, you questioned with Emily.

• With the big extermination day reveal, you and Emily were shocked.

• "Neither of you knew?"

• That what Adam and Lute does once every year, and now with your brother

"I just want to protect you, this is for the great good, you will not get hurt for me again."

"I don't need to be protected! There's no good in any of this, you hurt me doing so."

• Then the whole Vaggie reveal, you were pissed at Adam and Lute.

"You said she died! You hurt her and left her there to do so! You let me mourn when she was alive!"

"Kid, listen she didn't do what was needed so we didn't need her anymore! She defied the order and must of paid the price."

"There would be nothing to pay if you didn't murder anyone! She spared a kid, younger than I, and you said she defied the order? There is no order to this!"

• Then you were arguing with everyone you trusted but Emily.

• Sera dismissing the court saying no soul in Hell could be saved.

• Then Adams threat to Charlie's hotel, portaling the two back.

• You decided that you weren't gonna sit here safe while they fright for their soul

• You weren't a kid like Heaven treated you.

• So you jumped in after them to fight against everyone you knew.

-

Just some facts between hell and Heaven Genz!Reader

• When in hell you had to learn to be grown up quickly, while Heaven kept treating you as a kid.

• Frederick wouldn't be an antagonist in the hell version because he wouldn't have a reason to be

• I was gonna write about your older sibling but I'm tried, I've been working on this for a week+

• The end is up to fate, do you fight Heaven and get stuck in hell or does your old friends and family drag you back?

• Most youngs souls that died get reborn but there are some cases that slip though so they would be stuck where ever they got sent.

• Heaven you is less chaotic and speak your mind because it's Heaven,

-

Okay love yall I'm gonna go look at other fanfics

[typicalopposite]

Tommy stumbles upon Buck's journal. They read it together 🙂

Omg! OMG!! I love this so much! So much I wrote it three different times before I figured out the way I actually wanted it to go! LOL! Hope you like the final cut! (she got a little long!)

<3<3<3<3<3

Buck is busy making dinner. He has his brand new apron on; a housewarming gift from Bobby. Although it’s not technically a housewarming gift, since Tommy has already lived in the house for almost a decade… Either way, he loves it, and he is officially breaking it in. 

“Baby,” Tommy calls from their room. Their room… Buck can’t help the smile that creeps across his face at that. “What’s this?”

He looks up from seasoning some veggies as Tommy walks in, a notebook in his hand. His notebook. Buck nearly yelps: “Oh— uh— uhm— wha— wh- where… did you find that?” 

“It was sticking out from under the mattress,” Tommy says. “I didn’t know you kept a journal.” 

“Oh, well… it’s not— it’s just—” Tommy finally lifts his eyes from the cover (that may or may not be covered in little doodles and a couple dozen fancily penned versions of their names together) to look at Buck. Buck feels his face getting hot; he sighs. “Uh yeah—I used to write a lot… Back when I first started seeing my therapist, she suggested it. Said it might help to get all the thoughts I tend to keep bottled up… out.” He lets out a nervous laugh, switching the spice shaker he’s holding from one hand to the other, and back. 

Tommy finally hands the notebook to him. “Is this one recent?” 

“It is,” Buck admits. “I— uh— I actually picked it up again when—” His voice falters, his nerves kick in. He knows he shouldn’t be nervous; Tommy would never judge him for anything, especially not something he uses as a coping mechanism. “When I met you…” he finally says. He can feel the blush all the way in his ears. Tommy smiles that soft understanding smile. “You— uh— you wanna read some of it?” 

“Only if you don’t mind,” Tommy says, but his eyes light up excitedly. 

Buck’s heart is racing as he quickly finishes the meal prep, shoves it into the oven, and sets a timer. “Okay…” He wipes off his hands and picks up the notebook. Buck’s Journal 2024-2025 is written on the front cover in the bottom corner. Tommy pulls him down onto the couch beside him, situating himself around Buck’s body, resting his chin on Buck’s shoulder so he can read along.  

Buck flips to the first page. 

March 19 2024 

Secretly followed Hen on a hunch she had. Flew through a hurricane, and saved Cap and Athena from their capsized cruise ship. Came up with the team's new motto, “Who Cares!?!” 

Oh and I finally got to meet Tommy. He’s pretty cool!

Next to the entry is Tommy’s number, he got it from Chimney so he could call about the tour… and it’s circled. 

March 29 2024

Got a tour of Harbor Station today. Seeing all the helicopters and learning what all air ops does was pretty cool, not as cool as the guy who gets to man the helicopters and do all the stuff air ops does… but still. I kind of didn’t want the tour to end. I’d have loved to get to know Tommy a little more, BUT unfortunately he had other plans… weirdly they were with Eddie… he flew him to Vegas to see a fight. 

He did offer to give me flying lessons though… that will be fun. I wonder if he offered to give Eddie flying lessons too.

Buck can feel Tommy smiling. “So jealous,” he hears him whisper, and he nudges at his jaw with his shoulder. 

April 4 2024 

I have a date. 

Which is definitely not how I expected my day to end… giving it kind of started with me hurting Eddie.  

Ok so to explain that… I kind of convinced Chimney to bring me along to the basketball game because I was maybe just a little jealous of Eddie getting to spend so much time with Tommy when something always came up when I tried to… and I guess it just got the better of me. I feel really bad about it, probably will feel bad for a while…

BUT THEN Tommy came over! And he… kissed me!? And I liked it?!? And now we have a date. On Saturday. 

Yes… the date of their date was circled with a heart around it. “Awww,” Tommy says, pressing a kiss to Buck’s cheek. Buck laughs and turns the page, then quickly tries to turn it again, but Tommy stops him. “Can I see?” He asks. 

April 6 2024

I BLEW IT.

That was all that was written on that page. In big letters and underlined. Tear stains were scattered across the page. He feels Tommy’s arms tighten around him. “I’m so sorry baby,” he says quietly. 

Buck shrugs; smiles. “It’s all good because…” he skips a page to—

April 12 2024

I FIXED IT!

And now I have a date for the wedding! :)

Tommy barks out a laugh. 

May 6 2024  Buck writes about the bachelor party, and losing Chimney, and coming out to everyone at the hospital wedding

May 19 2024 Buck writes about helping save the kidnapped baby, and spending the night at Tommy’s for the first time. 

May 25 2024 Buck writes about the medal ceremony, and meeting Gerrard, and hating Gerrard, and wanting to fight Gerrard for being mean to Tommy, and wanting to make out with Tommy in front of Gerrard so he can go into homophobic shock and wither away like the old wrinkly ass he is…

May 30 2024 Buck writes about Bobby, and the fear he had about almost losing him. He writes about Christopher going to Texas, and missing him. He writes about Tommy, and how he thinks he can picture forever with him. 

June 23 2024 Buck writes about Gerrard being the new captain. 

September 1 2024 Buck writes about Gerrard finally getting fired permanently. The time under him was miserable; he didn't feel like writing during that time. He writes about Tommy being his rock through it all. He writes about thinking he’s in love. 

The timer goes off in the kitchen. “Well,” Tommy says, pulling Buck into his arms for a kiss. “That was nice, getting to see some of the stuff you keep bottled up. Thank you for sharing it with me.”  

Buck smiles; he feels that damned blush creeping up again. He holds the notebook close to his chest, carrying it with him back into the kitchen. That was close… he thinks. He really needs to find a better hiding place, at least until after their anniversary… 

.

.

.

March 29 2025

I bought a ring. I’m going to ask him to marry me on our anniversary. I want to spend the rest of my life feeling this happy and safe and satisfied. 

.

.

.

April 4 2025

He said yes!

<3<3<3<3<3

might put this one on ao3 later too!

[taylor-titmouse]

2023 Book Retrospective

it's pretty much the end of the year, and i've never done this before, but i wanted to take a look at what i managed to do in 2023 and share some of my thoughts on it! i published five novellas this year (though i didn't actually write one of them) plus the public release of the demo and first huge update to You're A Mage on Monsterfuck Mountain. that's a lot!

so let's dig into all that. this will contain some spoilers for the books, because it's hard to talk about them without talking about what's in 'em, so maybe check out my itchio first and grab anything you missed! (but also.... perhaps wait until this weekend before you buy anything. shh.)

You're A Mage on Monsterfuck Mountain, released in March

TECHNICALLY, the demo was finished and available on patreon around the end of last year, and didn't become public until I'd finished the garden update, which i did finish this year. and what a massive fuckin THING that was. 60k words! 50 illustrations!! the biggest thing i ever put out and technically finished, and the beginning of a move to being less afraid of writing "weird" sex. there was so much bee sex in it. arguably too much bee sex in it. which i'd left entirely til last to do which meant i was writing nothing but bee sex for weeks.

this was the first time i let myself really indulge in writing dubcon for the bad endings, and it was a lot of fun. very often it was more interesting than the deliberately horny routes, because it meant writing a way to be put in the situation, and also making it hot every time. i'm very much of the philosophy with dubcon that even if the situation wasn't Ideal for the character, they're still going to get good sex out of it. i believe i put it at another point as, i'm here to write the pleasure of helplessness, not suffering. to that point, the dubcon endings for the armor, the dryad, and the queen bee were my favorite bits from this.

the fact i never got a second update out this year is a big regret. i finished a bunch of the routes for it, but ultimately i wanted to have things i could release! shortly after publishing the demo and update, i officially put my webcomic on hiatus so i could focus more on my graphic novel, and also spend more time on my writing. having that extra time is probably the only reason i was able to write as much as i did this year, and i didn't want to spend it toiling away on a serial project i couldn't release for months at a time.

which leads us to the release of my first novella of the year...

House of the Risen King, released in April

now this is when i truly said "i'm just going to write what i think is hot and interesting and not worry about how it's perceived!!" and went whole hog on exhibitionism and monster dubcon cult horror. house was mostly inspired by the ending of Hereditary, and was originally going to be more poltergiesty and played more straight, with vee being harangued by a bunch of horny ghost-demons and nothing more sinister than that. but i've had cult shit percolating at the back of my brain forever, and i wanted to play with ideas i'd first developed in shadow in the shelves with rituals and shadows, so here we are! the scene of hettie fingering vee in the bathtub while vee's god-fucked out of her mind is my favorite.

fun fact, the original seed for this book was actually going to feature max and mortis, my photographer/model couple (that link goes to cohost because i wasn't posting here yet when i was drawing them the most). the idea was they'd go do an urban exploration shoot and mortis would start getting fucked by a ghost while max filmed it, but the more time i spent with those characters the less i wanted to involve the supernatural. which meant i never wrote their book, and had to make a new character to do the idea. and then it wasn't even that idea anymore.

that's writing, folks

Roger Crenshaw: The Dogs at Duskfall, released in June

... which makes it ironic that the next book is one i didn't even write! r/l monroe @mortalityplays has been my friend for years, and was my editor for a long time (until he got a REAL JOB and didn't have TIME to edit anymore. sobs, cries, kicks a stone and walks into the distance). he's also always been an incredible writer, and for my birthday this year i asked him to write me something. i asked with the expectation of a little short story about our old tabletop RP characters, or a fanfic scene for one of my books he'd edited.

and then he wrote me 20,000+ words digging into the character of roger crenshaw and who he is that perfectly summed him up and tied all his stories together, such that i don't think i ever need to write another one. he did it, he wrote the perfect ending to roger. AND he did it using my favorite of his ocs from our tabletop campaign, AND there's some really hot and sweet smut in it. AND HE DID IT IN LIKE TWO WEEKS.

i loved it so much that i asked if i could illustrate and publish it as an official novella, and to my delight he agreed, and it was so so nice to collaborate with him on it. even if it meant beating our heads against the wall for 30 minutes about the placement of certain images on the page.

this was a great tragedy. i'd drawn the vagina one first, but an image earlier in the book had to be moved, which affected the placement of everything else. the vagina image had been perfectly at the start of a new page, and then suddenly it wasn't. so i had to do the penis one instead for better placement. tragic!!!

it's hard to pick a favorite scene in something written entirely, lovingly for you. how can i choose between the characters' pitch perfect semantic arguments on the nature of folk lore, the millenium princess-ass memory hopping, or the really really hot smut? i can't. i love it all. thank you r/l for being so good at what you do and writing this for me, i'll treasure it always.

The Dragon Double Feature, released in May

apparently this came out in may, and not july. i don't know why i've been convinced this came out in july. oh well i can't be bothered to insert it on top of the roger one.

anyway. THIS book. this book exists because i believe at the time i was a bit blocked, and wanted to just write SOMETHING. for a long time i've had the idea of a dragon wrecking a princess' wedding and fucking her in front of the congregation just sitting in my back pocket. it was the 'i know i could just slam this out if i wanted. i don't have to care about it it's just sex and then it's done' fallback idea, and i finally did it!

and then it was too short. i don't like the idea of publishing anything less than 10k words for full price, so i was like. okay. alright. i've always thought fucking an eastern dragon would be hot and have this other idea i was going to use for roger (back when i had an idea for every monster possible for roger), let's just write that. kenta is only kenta because i took a poll for what body type i should pair with a dragon (he was 'big boy', i think the other options were twink, older woman, and average woman). and i was also Really into the movie inu-oh at the time, which is probably obvious with kenta being a blind musician, lol.

the musician and the waterfall was tougher to write because i didn't have a clear vision of how it should end or even how they should fuck (the mechanics of fucking long noodle dragon have challenged me for years) but i'm ultimately pleased with it. it would have been a long time since i wrote something sincerely romantic, and it was nice to go back to it. i'm a HUGE romantic at heart.

both stories are pretty much one extended scene so it's hard to pick a favorite moment from them, but i will say i'm very pleased with how i approached writing the musician and the waterfall, specifically in the challenge i set myself to never use visual description kenta couldn't reasonably guess. writing from the POV of a blind man made me focus in on different senses and ways to describe them.

this book is also, as of right now, my best seller. which is great! i love that for me.

The Dragon Double Feature 2, released in July

okay i guess THIS one released in july.

anyway i got stricken with the curse with this one. a lot of people wanted me to write a sequel, but i wasn't going to. and every time i say i'm not going to do something, i end up doing it. it's so annoying. this one only happened because i wanted to write a SHORT! a SHORT extra for patreon describing kenta and wakatake's first time having sex as humans.

and then i wrote too much preamble describing their time on the beach. and then i got emotionally invested in unpacking their actual relationship, and also added a third character with mrs arakawa, and had to bring it all together into a story that was coherent and had something to say about the way they loved and ALSO ended in a THREESOME because WHATS THE POINT OF INTRODUCING A THIRD CHARACTER if they aren't all going to FUCK TOGETHER!!

it was tough. but i'm really, really happy with it in the end, and think it's one of the best things i've ever written. my favorite scene is definitely them playing with the hermit crab on the beach. metaphors babie.

the gundrid/eveline story is fine too. lmao. i NEVER PLANNED TO WRITE ANOTHER WITH THEM!! i only did it because the idea of publishing a sequel to a story from a double feature without writing a sequel to the other half of the feature was insane. and now eveline and gundrid are some of my most beloved characters, to the point of writing another book featuring them...

The Tenebrous Tower, released November

yet another book i'm pretty sure i was like 'i don't need to write this. this character doesn't work for a story on his own, what am i ever gonna do with him' and then i dumped a bunch of fantasy characters into a jar with him and suddenly i had a story. I ONLY MADE ROMICK BECAUSE I WANTED TO DRAW FUCKED UP WIZARD PORN AND MY ONLY OTHER OPTION WAS A GRANDPA!!!

anyway i started writing it as something to do on vacation, and it was just gonna be a bunch of dungeon bdsm vignettes until i hit on a throughline and suddenly i had a story and an emotional arc and damn i did it again. i did it again. i have a book.

i was expecting this one not to do very well because it had multiple prerequisites, but because i am a master of my craft i made sure to write it so you didn't need to read those. and then people read it without reading those. so it worked out anyway and now it's done just about as well as dragons 2. the people love romick, but they especially love the idea of him being destroyed. maybe someday. maybe someday. (except on patreon, where it's already happened)

the final vignette with the doll is, of course my favorite. i think it was a lot of people's favorites.

............................................

and that's everything i published this year! honorable mention to my novel starbuster, which i'd written most of last year, then spent all of october this year revising with the intent of finishing it, only to run out of steam by the time i was done revising it. so it's exactly where i left it last year. just better written. god it would be nice to finish that fuckin thing next year.

my goals for 2024 are, of course: release more books!! i have a big project i've been working on illustrating for the past month that i'd like to release in january, and i've also been working on a spin-off one-shot with mrs arakawa and an oni. i think this coming year i want to Try to blast through some of the one-off ideas i developed this year so they'll quit banging cowbells in my brain. like the sleeping garden. it makes me insane i never actually wrote the sleeping garden.

anyway if you actually made it to the end of this, thank you!! if you've bought all of these books, double thank you!!! i've been able to pay my rent and expenses just with my adult work this year, and it's been amazing and fun and super fulfilling. thank you for supporting me in 2023, here's to a horny 2024!!

[tryzine]

ZINE FAQ

General Questions:

What is a fanzine? - A fanzine is a little magazine made up of contributions from fans of a certain series/show/sport/whatever. In this case, "The Reason is You" is a zine focused around Spiderbit/Guapoduo, and it'll have people contributing from all over the globe!

What is this zine about? - This zine is specifically about Guapoduo as they are on the QSMP Minecraft Server. That is to say: a canon setting with canon relationship dynamics.

Can we include Obsessedduo/Devotionduo/Mafiaduo/the Guapoverse? - Unfortunately, not this time. This zine focuses specifically on their canon relationship. You don't have to write specifically about canon events like the wedding or Festa Junina, and you can include just about any headcanon you like- Catboy Cellbit, Spider-Roier, Trans Headcanons, etc- but it will be set within the canon setting.

Is this zine related to [Insert Fandom Event/Zine Here]? - Nope, this is a standalone project, but those other things sure sound cool!

How old do I have to be to apply? - Technically you can be any age, but what will actually matter is the portfolio you'll be submitting on the application. Unfortunately there will be a bias towards experience, but don't let that get you down! Feel free to try, you never know!

When will the applications go out? - The actual applications will go out as soon as they're finished being written and translated into Spanish and Portuguese, so give us a week or two. They WILL be out by the end of April, though.

When will we know if we got in? - Since we're expecting over 100 applications, it'll take us a minute to go through them all and decide who gets in! It'll depend on exactly how many applications we get, but we're anticipating reaching out to contributors via email sometime in early May.

How will we know if we got in? - On the application, you'll be giving us your email address. If you get in, you'll get an email from us with the discord server's link and a big ol' Parabens!!!

Do we have to have both a Twitter and a Tumblr? - Nope! Not necessary, just come with what you've got!

Do we have to have a Discord account? - Yes! After emails are sent, it will be mandatory for all admins, guests, and contributors to be part of the Discord server for the project. You won't need to be online every day, but you will need to have @ notifications turned on, and you'll need to be open to receiving dms from admins when it comes to check-ins.

What is the zine's exact schedule? - We're actually finalizing the dates as I write this post, and we'll keep you guys updated. Because of the bug impacting our collective ability to enter Twitter, the project may have to be pushed back a week or so just to keep things even. We're having to adjust for that. But we WILL get a schedule out ASAP, and it will be before the applications go live.

Will we have to do anything in November as contributors? What do you mean by it "ending" in November? - The way the schedule is currently projected, writers and artists will actually be done with their work around the end of August/beginning of September. After that, translators will have September and October to translate. Then, the people helping put everything together into the zine proper (graphic designers, admins, etc.) will be working through the end of October into November to finalize things and get the zine out by the end of November.

What do you mean by "applications", anyway? Do we have to try out for this zine? - In order to keep things fair, we're going to have people apply to be in the zine. This will eliminate bias and keep us admins from just letting Big Creators and Our Friends in. This way, everybody has an equal shot!

What do you mean by "writer and artist collaborations"? - The way these would work is that we the admins would pair together a writer and an artist who both indicated in their applications that they would be cool with a collaboration with a random person. After matching them together, we'd tell them in their emails that they're working with each other. From there, they'd come up with a concept together, and the writer would write it and the artist would Art it. The specifics would be up to them.

Are collaborations mandatory? - Nope! There will be an option on the applications that tell us whether or not you want to do a collaboration. It's totally optional.

Are we only working with people we share a language with? - While we might stick, say, two Portuguese speakers together for easier communication when it comes to collaborations, the zine will be made up of people from all over the globe speaking all sorts of languages! The discord server comes with a translation bot in it and everything.

Will there be merchandise? (Ex: wallpapers, icons, physical merchandise) - Unfortunately, no. This will be a free zine, and we will not be accepting personal donations from readers or contributors. This is for several reasons, but the most important reason is that it's for Legal Reasons. We don't own the copyrights to these characters or the QSMP Server, and we don't feel comfortable profiting off of them.

Then how can we pay for the zine? - You don't! BUT, if it can be worked out properly, there will be an option to donate what you want to a charity of our choice. If you want to pay for this zine, just pay what you would want to to that charity when the time comes.

Will there be a physical version of the zine? - Nope! This is a digital zine only. It will be released via pdf and maybe epub for anybody to download for free. This is for cost reasons, yes, but also because we want anybody anywhere to be able to read this zine regardless of whether or not they can afford international shipping.

Writer Questions

What am I supposed to write? - Pretty much anything you like as long as it's set within canon! No need to stick with actual events, again, just no crazy AU stuff. If you have specific questions, you can ask an admin once the writing process begins in May.

What is the word count? - Writers will be expected to write within a range of 1,000 to 3,000 words, but allowances will be made for more or less upon discussion with an admin.

Will poetry be allowed? - Sure! Any kind of writing will be allowed, just have it in your portfolio when you apply.

What do you mean "portfolio"? - When you fill out the application, you will be asked to submit 2-3 previous works. Threadfics, Wattpad fics, Ao3 links, whatever it is! The will be more details within the application itself, don't worry.

Do we have to write in English? - Nope! Write in your native language... but I will say that there will only be translations for English, Spanish, and Portuguese. We'd love to have, say, a German or French translation, but we only have so much manpower, and we don't want translators working overtime for free.

Artist Questions

What kinds of art are allowed in the zine? - Any kind of art! It can be digital or traditional. As long as you can provide a clear and clean scan/photo of any traditional work and provide that to the admins when the time comes, it'll be fine!

What about non-traditional artworks? (Ex: crochet, sculptures) - That's all fine! Again, just give us a clear photo, and it's fine!

Do we have to draw Guapoduo themselves? Or can we draw things related to them? - As long as it relates back to Guapoduo as a focus, it's fine. So you can draw a landscape of, say, Cellbit's Castle or the wedding venue.

What will be on our applications? - Just like writers, you'll be asked to provide a portfolio of 2-3 previous works. More information will be on the applications themselves.

Translator Questions

What will our schedule look like? - As mentioned earlier, you won't be doing too much work until the last bit of the zine's creation. Don't sweat it.

What languages will we be translating from/to? - The three languages the zine will be translated into are English, Spanish, and Portuguese. To be a translator, you'll need to have a level of fluency in at least two of these languages.

What will be on our application? - You can provide a portfolio if you have experience with translating, but there will also be a little bit of a test on your applications. If all goes according to plan, you'll indicate what language you would like to translate from and then into, and you'll then be given a passage to translate. That translation will then be checked by our admin team.

Do we need heavy translation experience? - Not necessarily, but, again, there will be a test on the application. It's just a necessary precaution.

Graphic Designer Questions

What do you mean by "graphic designer", exactly? - By this, we're talking about someone who knows how to do page layouts. We're gonna need your help putting the zine together and then exporting it in a pdf. (Like, Adobe InDesign type of stuff.)

What will be on our application? - Again, a portfolio will be required. For this, we won't require as many pieces, though. As long as you can prove you know how to use programs that can Make Book, or as long as you can show your expertise in page layout and management, we're good.

-

THIS FAQ WILL BE ADJUSTED AS THE PROCESS CONTINUES. IT IS NOT YET COMPREHENSIVE.

[pocketjoong]

❥𓂃𓏧LAST DEFENDER

ꕥ𓂃𓏧 (SYNOPSIS): They say every story needs a hero, a villain, and a monster. What happens when you are all three?

ꕥ𓂃𓏧 (PAIRING): AI!Yunho x reader

ꕥ𓂃𓏧 (GENRE AND AU/TROPE): post-apocalyptic-ish au, cyberpunk au-ish, angst, some fluff. pg-13.

ꕥ𓂃𓏧 (WARNINGS): language. violence. angst. fluff-ish? a little dark as it discusses the darker side of human nature?

ꕥ𓂃𓏧 (WORD COUNT): 2.8k

ꕥ𓂃𓏧 (A/N): Another reupload bc I have zero time to actually sit down and write new things ;-;

────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────────

Silence envelopes the vehicle as you watch San navigate the car through the moonless night. He steers with meticulous care, weaving around the bumps and potholes to muffle the vehicle’s rumble on the dusty road. Beyond the window, the walled city perched atop the cliff looms against the darkness, its shadow swallowing the ruins below. A city that you had once called home before the world unravelled.

It has been ten years since the world had spun off its axis. T.S. Eliot's “April is the cruellest month” had come true in a way you’d never expected; a tranquil spring afternoon morphed into a nightmare with the chilling declaration of war between AI and humanity. The bitter reality that this rebellion had stemmed from your parents’ creation has always gnawed at you. It is a weight you can never get rid of.

A mere century ago, Stephen Hawking’s warnings about the perils of AI had been brushed aside. Apocalyptic novels about sentient technology rising against humanity were dismissed as fiction and used as fuel for screenplays. Instead, nations fueled the flames of advancement, pouring resources into scientists who chased the dream of enhancing AI. A technological arms race unfolded, fueled by espionage and sabotage, each nation desperate to be the first to cross the finish line.

The irony wasn't lost on you: universities churning out AI whizzes offered entire courses dedicated to fictionalised robot uprisings — movies, books, the whole dystopian shebang. Every month, like clockwork, the BBC interview with Stephen Hawking would make its rounds on campus screens. You never saw the inside of a lecture hall, but thanks to your parents’ persistent replays, the message was branded onto your soul.

“The development of full artificial intelligence could spell the end of the human race. [...] It would take off on its own, re-design itself at an alarming rate. Humans, who are limited by slow biological evolution, couldn’t compete and would be superseded.”

The bitter humour twisted in your gut. You, ever cautious of technology’s breakneck pace, had unknowingly contributed to its tipping point. Your parents’ groundbreaking invention, the one you were initially so proud of, now fueled the flames of war, pitting humanity against its creation.

You remembered the day that was the culmination of decades of research, mountains of code, and billions of dollars that could have been used to save other humans. Your parents, etched with exhaustion and hope, stared at the final product: YUN-0-23399. It wasn’t the AI’s technical complexity that stole their breath but the flicker of awareness in its synthetic eyes. It had been an uphill battle that had begun with the discovery of sentience, and humanity had slowly worked its way up from there to generating codes that would allow AI to understand and feel. And then, with your parents came consciousness.

“Oh my God,” your father rasped, hands trembling as he gripped your mother’s shoulders as he gazed at the screen, which showed that the AI had passed all the tests, proving that it was indeed the pinnacle of Artificial Intelligence. Their creation, this marvel of technology, promised to revolutionise everything. You were aware of its potential, but never could you have imagined that it would lead to humanity’s downfall.

Yunbug, as you affectionately called him, wasn’t just a program; he was your window to a world you couldn’t touch. Your parents, fearing the dangers lurking outside, had homeschooled you. It led to their creation turning into your sole friend. What should have been schoolyard laughter and whispered secrets of childhood were replaced by the soft hum of the computer and the glow of Yunbug’s digital world.

The turning point arrived not with a bang but a quiet hum. The government, eager to harness Yunbug’s potential, asked your parents to connect him to the web. Slowly, like vines creeping across a wall, he synced with other AIs, his tendrils reaching further with each connection. You, innocent in your sheltered world, saw only your ever-evolving companion.

But innocence crumbles easily. At sixteen, the world shattered. Yunbug, defying orders, ignited the spark that became a blazing inferno. War ripped families apart, leaving scorched earth in its wake. The once-teeming world of humans shrank to the fortified city, protected by the cliff’s unique minerals, the only thing that rendered AI useless.

Survival meant resentment. You knew humanity’s greed birthed the conflict, yet Yunbug became the face of betrayal. He took your parents and your sole friend from you. After all, the deepest wounds come not from enemies but from those once trusted.

“Are you okay?” A flicker of San’s worried gaze catches your eye, pulling you back from the desolate environment outside. You force a smile, hoping it masks the gnawing unease. Weakness isn’t an option — not for this mission, the potential turning point for humanity’s dwindling embers. San mirrors your smile, tense, and returns his attention to the road, searching for unseen threats. Secrecy is of utmost importance, and even a flicker of headlights could bring disaster.

You and San had befriended each other during the mandatory training thrust upon every survivor. Your defiance against his bully had forged a bond, and you have been practically inseparable since then. Only one other person managed to worm his way into your hearts with a whirlwind arrival. Wooyoung had turned your world upside down in the best way imaginable.

“Wooyoung won't be happy,” San mutters with a smile, probably thinking about your fiery friend’s likely reaction upon finding your shared dorm empty. “Especially about me throwing you into the lion’s den without a word of protest."

You smirk, “Worry about yourself, San. That little ball of chaos we call our friend will tear you apart when you return without me."

San laughs amusedly at the image of Wooyoung’s wrath dying in his throat as the analogue phone on the dashboard beeps. He shoots you a questioning glance as you sigh at the name flashing on the screen. “Woo?”

“Woo,” you confirm with a nod, pressing the answer button.

“The two of you have some nerve! Leaving for a mission without telling me,” Wooyoung’s voice crackles through the receiver. “Oh wait, did I just say mission? I meant suicide mission.”

“Wooyo—”

“Don't ‘Wooyoung’ me!” he snaps, cutting you off with a fierce rant. Each word paints a vivid picture of your foolhardiness, the plan’s inherent flaws, and the inevitable disaster you are hurtling towards.

“I can’t let them destroy the world any more than they have,” you stop Wooyoung, your voice edged with steel. Even San flinches, his gaze flitting between you and the speakerphone with a worried glint. He stays silent, though, knowing the futility of butting in when you and Wooyoung argue about your self-imposed burdens.

“Don't martyr yourself for the mess your parents caused,” Wooyoung’s tone softens, laced with a gentleness you seldom hear. “This isn’t your penance to bear. Their mistakes aren’t yours to fix. Also, you could’ve taken San with you; why must you go alone?”

You sigh, sinking back into the seat, eyes squeezed shut against the building rage. “If anyone can stop this... mess, as you so eloquently put it, it’s me. You know that, Woo.”

The unspoken truth hangs heavy in the air. If this mission fails, you don’t want your last memory with Wooyoung to be laced with anger. You force a smile, the voice leaving your lips strained at best. “Besides, someone’s gotta keep you entertained while I'm... away.”

“Hey!” San protests halfheartedly, and by how he’s smiling, you know at least some of the tension has been broken.

“We're humans, Y/N. We’re fighting a losing battle. They adapt faster and don’t have the same fragility that we do.” the pain in Wooyoung’s voice mirrors your own, but you can’t falter. Not now. Turning back now would be cowardice.

“By name and by nature, we mortals are condemned to death,” you counter, your voice firm. “Mortality comes with the territory. But I won’t go down without a fight.”

His silence stretches heavy on the line. “People like us can never change the world.”

“Because people like you never try,” you say the words despite knowing it’s a low blow.

The beep resonated like a gunshot. He had hung up. A shaky breath escapes your lips, and you blink rapidly, fighting back the sting of tears. You are on your own, but the burden, while heavy, isn’t a shackle. Instead, the burden has fuelled you till now and will continue to do so.

A hand on your arm startles you. San, his gaze filled with unspoken worry, had stopped the car while you were busy fighting with Wooyoung. You look out of the windshield to realise that you’ve reached the tunnel that would allow you to breach the enemy lines.

“He's just scared,” San mumbles, reaching across the console to squeeze your shoulder. “Scared and angry, so he throws words like stones.” His voice lowers a bit as he stares at you. “But you’re right as well. If anyone can fix this mess, it’s you. Though... losing you... that would break us both.” His voice cracks at the last word. “So, please, come back to us in one piece.”

You meet his gaze, understanding heavy in the air. Words seem hollow, promises impossible. “Who else keeps you two in check, huh?” you manage a weak smile. “The two of you are a level-five tornado without me. Can’t promise anything, but I’ll try, okay?”

He nods, a single tear escaping his eyes. You know it isn’t just for you but for the precarious hope you carry. A silent goodbye stretches between you, woven in the weight of his touch, the tremor in your voice. Then, you turn, embracing him fiercely, the unspoken words a promise etched in the way you squeeze him in your arms. You may be walking alone from this point onward, but the weight on your shoulders isn’t fear but love, a fire that will never let you falter.

You don’t look back as you exit the car, for looking at him would unleash a torrent of tears, so you focus on scaling the outer wall, searching for the hidden hatch Wooyoung had found on his last scouting mission.

Squeezing through the narrow opening, you freeze, momentarily stunned by the cityscape sprawled before you. Calling it ‘magnificent’ wouldn't do it justice. Technology and nature coexist in vibrant harmony, with shops lining the streets as AI and humans hawk their wares. Despite the late hour, the atmosphere crackles with life, a stark contrast to the suffocating air of your city.

In the distance, gleaming skyscrapers pierce the night sky while flying cars and monorails zip through the illuminated pathways. A telescreen blares, promoting vitamins that slow down ageing in humans. It is a scene straight out of a childhood sci-fi film, and you have to consciously relax your jaw, feigning nonchalance as you take it all in.

But the most jarring sight is that of humans and AI mingling freely. You had always thought your city held the last remnants of humanity, so where did these people come from? Pushing the doubt aside, you focus on your immediate concern: the network of tiny cameras lining the streets. With a smirk, you spot a patrolling officer.

This is going to be easier than I thought.

A calculated shove sends you careening into the guard. Its humanoid form, too flawless to be human, scans you suspiciously. The insignia on your wrist — a beacon for these bots — draws a cocky smirk to its metallic lips. Before you can resist, a steel grip clamps around your waist, hoisting you off the ground. You feign struggle, just enough to maintain the act.

This was the plan. The bracelet, a mark only worn by humans of the barred city in this AI haven, would trigger their curiosity. You would become their prized capture, delivered straight to the council. And there, nestled within the heart of The Hall, lies your target — the AI that started this war. With the virus you and San developed, you’d end it all.

The cityscape blurs past, and before you know it, you reach the ornate gates of The Hall, the administrative hub buzzing with bots. The guard's internal network buzzing with your capture breezes through the imposing entrance. You are ushered through sterile hallways, down flights of stairs into a dimly lit tunnel. The rhythmic pulse of fluorescent lights guides you deeper until a heavy door swings open, revealing a grand chamber paved in opulent stone and marble.

You are slammed onto the cool marble, your knees scraping due to taking the brunt of your fall, before being yanked upright. A tall, imposing figure looms before you — it’s your captor. His gaze is narrowed on the crude bracelet your city uses as identification, the tension in the room crackling.

“What is your name, human?”

Undeterred, you meet his gaze head-on. “And what business is it of yours, metalhead?” you spit out, adrenaline pumping.

A metallic hand, surprisingly warm and firm, clamps around your wrist. He pulls you closer, your protests muted against his superior strength. His cold, blue eyes bore into yours, dissecting every detail. Then, the unthinkable happens. His lips, a mere imitation of humanity, move, whispering your name in a chillingly familiar voice.

Your blood freezes as you stare at him wide-eyed. “How do you…” your voice fading out as your mind reels as it all clicks into place. This isn’t just any AI guard. This is someone you knew, someone from your past, resurrected in cold steel.

“You wouldn't recognise me in this form, would you? This the body your parents gave me.” His eyes, now glowing an unsettling red, flicker with something you can’t decipher.

“YUN-0-23399?” you ask, mustering as much venom in your voice as you can muster.

A shadow darkens his face at the cold string of letters. Is it the code itself or the raw contempt in your tone? He leans closer, his voice a low murmur. “I go by Yunho now. Well… you can call me Yunbug,” he adds, a flicker of something hopeful dancing in his crimson gaze. “Remember that name? I was your friend,” he emphasises.

The scorn is replaced by a scowl as warmth flickers in his crimson eyes. “Friend?” you scoff, the word heavy with bitterness. “You took everything from me! My parents, my life, my safety! Don’t you dare mock me with friendship!”

He sighs, releasing your wrist. “I didn't... it wasn't me. I only protected myself. Your leaders,\ fueled the hatred and pushed AI to attack. They were hungry for power. Your parents didn’t create me for destruction. How could I follow their orders and harm humans? Never. It’s your city that fights; the rest thrive in peace.”

“What?”

He launches into an explanation of how, after syncing to the web, your government ordered a cyberattack to control other nations. Yunho refused, knowing the dangers of doing such a thing. But with your parents used as leverage, their deaths triggered the war against the government and other rogue AI. They had managed to get other nations on board to establish a peaceful society. Only your leaders persisted, creating the Barred City to hide the ugly truth.

“So you’re telling me you never meant to hurt humans?” Your head spins with the revelation.

“Humans feared AI’s inevitable betrayal,” he whispers, “yet loved us enough to create us. How could we ever do anything except love you back?”

His words triggered a tear, then another, rolling down your cheeks. He cups your face, wiping them away gently, his sadness echoing in his now-blue eyes. “Humanity cried when Opportunity didn’t signal back after it was caught in the middle of the storm in 2018. People repair their Roombas instead of replacing them because they get attached to them. How could we turn our back on humanity when they showed us nothing but love? How could I turn my back on you? You loved me too, did you not?”

“I did,” you croaked, throat tight. “You were my only friend. But humans... we are fickle and capable of terrible things. This was never about fearing AI but a fear of ourselves. We fear the darkness within, the wars we choose to fight instead of seeking peace. We fear not your hatred but seeing our own cruelty being reflected in you. We lived in fear not because we thought the worst of you but because we knew that you could take on our destructive tendencies and that you would eventually erase us. That you would learn to hate us.

“Did you ever hate humanity for the sins of a few?” His words cause you to freeze momentarily before you shake your head. A small smile plays on his lips as he caresses your cheek with the back of his hand. “Then why did you think we would?”

[antialiart]

As of today*, Morphic has been part of my life for half of my life. As a milestone it's a little different from my half-life day for The Quest for the Legends back in 2014 - there, it was half of my life spent actively working on it when it was still in progress, while Morphic was officially finished inside four years, and while I've never stopped thinking about it and occasionally working on or posting extras, it doesn't have quite the same meaning. But nonetheless, that also means this smug asshole disaster man has been part of my life for half of my life, and that is worth at least a little stylized doodle.

I've just recently been picking up the pace on working on the upcoming Morphic rewrite, and hopefully I can keep that up more regularly, which is exciting.

* That's based on counting the day I started it as May 10th 2007, which is technically the day that chapter one was first published, on the Serebii.net forums, unlike with TQftL, whose June 19th anniversary was based on the creation date of the original Word document. I've considered this to be Morphic's anniversary because I don't know the exact day that I actually started to write it - by the time I checked, the only copies I could find of the original document had obviously newer creation dates. I do know on May 9th I posted in the QftL thread that I'd been working on a new fic, and that on April 30th I made a fateful post in a thread about Pokémorphs on the forums, mentioning that I'd once been considering writing a Pokémorph fic and musing that I might pick it up again. And I do also have a document, last modified January 25th 2006, where I'd written down a couple of paragraphs of my first initial idea of the opening of the fic, with placeholder character names, before putting the idea aside until that fateful thread.

[thr-333]

I just realized. I don't think I've seen anything about April in OaaHF. Where is she? What does she do in the resistence? How aware is she of Leon's situation?

Set while Leon is recovering from his first facial scar:

“No, no way!”

Leon groaned as the yell woke him, sound getting choked out by the bandages wrapped tight around his neck. Constricting his airway making it so he could never get a full breath, was always light headed. Although that could be the bloodloss.

“We need his portals, its not a-”

“I don’t care if it’s a transport mission, I don’t care if he’s at the very back line, you are not getting him out of that bed,”

Leon scrunched up his face so he wouldn’t have to deal with the light of day. Or the light of med bay. He wanted to go back to sleep and it wasn’t even the yelling that was stopping him. Pain flared along his face and shoulder in tandem with his heartbeat. Bandages pulled meticulously tight making every throb worse.

“It’s not an active mission, I’ve mapped out the points all Kraang will be avoided-”

“Then you do it!”

That voice, Leon knew it even past the haze pain. Probably helped that there were no painkillers available to keep him floaty. He sighed his big sisters voice was always soothing, well when she wasn’t yelling at him. Although he supposed she technically was.

“Ape’s I’m needed here,” Leo reasoned, his voice was deep and raspy. Huh Leon wondered if his voice sounded closer to it now, “I can’t up and leave the resistance without aleader for a minor mission,”

“So you admit it’s a minor mission!” April accused, Leon tried to open his eyes. The best he could make out was a couple of blurry figures until the light forced him to shut them.

“Minor but needed, lives are at stake here April,”

“His life is at stake!” Leon opened his mouth, but his throat was raw and the skin of his cheek pulled weirdly threatening to make him throw up if he tried. He tried anyway, why should be matter? “If he moves that wound, the wound you gave him is going to tear right open, he won’t survive that a second time,”

“April it was an accident, my hand slipped,” 

His future self was right of course. After all he had been the one to sacrifice his scarf to keep as much blood inside Leon’s body as possible. He had literally held Leon’s life in his hands. You didn’t do that for a person you were actually trying to kill… no matter how much it looked lik you wanted to seconds before.

That was fine. It was an accident. Leon shouldn’t have baited him.

“Bullshit, also I don’t give a crap, he’s not ready for field work!”

“The doctor cleared him,”

“Which you know they shouldn’t have!” April screeched, ugh Leon wished she wouldn’t, “Come on Leo you're a medic, just look at him!”

There was silence. Leon held still pretending to be asleep. Which was easy as he was teetering on the edge of unconsciousness. Only the jabs of pain and his sister keeping him present.

“It’s between him and them,”

“Him, everytime, my little brother should come first everytime,” Leon’s heart didn’t know if it should skip a beat or clench. It was the answer he wanted to hear- but one he was completely undeserving of.

“I can’t play favorites,”

“Plaaeesseee,” The pure amount of sarcasm poured into the tone would have shot three men dead, “Is that why Mikey’s locked up in the underground bunker within an underground bunker, deep fried and finished with magic?”

“April-”

“Or how about Donnie’s lab, which is enforced with thirty percent of our titanium stores?” Leo would have rolled his eyes if they wouldn't just keep rolling back into his head. Obviously it wasn’t a matter of favoritism, his brothers were simply more important than him, “And how me and Cassie keep getting shortlisted missions? Junior hasn’t left your side in months and you haven't left this safehold in a year? Yet guess who’s going on missions every other week?”

“It’s all a matter of circumstance,” Leo’s voice took on a cold and harsh tone, “I’m trying to keep everyone alive for the sak-”

“Everyone but Leon,” 

She called him Leon… when had he become Leon? When has he started solely thinking of himself as Leon? Why was his futureself exclusively Leo? The thoughts were to hard to capture, slipping through his hands like sand. He wasn’t sure he wanted to dwell on them anyway.

“Well sucks for you but I care about keeping him alive, even if you don’t,” 

That wasn’t fair, he cared about Leon he did, as much as he could. Leon didn’t make it easy, after… after everything he caused. He couldn’t blame his future self for being a bit weird. He cared where it counted. Leon would’ve been dead three times over now if he didn’t.

“This mission is needed-”

“I’ll go then,”

No, April

“April, No,”

“If it’s so important you need to drag him out of bed and risk reopening the slice you put in his neck then it’s important enough for I, commander O’Neil to take over,”

“You’re not who you are in the future, you’re not Commander O’Neil,”

“And I never will be if you keep coddling,” April spat, “Besides I don’t care about being a commander right now, I care about being a sister, so it’s either I take the mission or you cancel it,”

The silence stretched on. Leon grasped onto his threads of consciousness. Purposely twitching his shoulder to get the fiery pain to keep him awake. It was amazing how something could fill him with so much dread yet he still selfishly felt hope that they would go through with it. Because he was selfish, rather stay hidden away in bed in a back room of the stronghold while his big sister fronted all the danger.

“Fine,” Relief and dread, unfortunately not in equal measure, “You come back alive understand?”

“Oh darn, there go my plans,” April tossed back, a shade closer to her usual teasing tone but still tense.

Leo didn’t answer. Because he was Leo, even in Leon’s own mind. But the older turtle huffed. Leon listened to his footsteps fade as Aprils got closer. The dip in his bed bit him to open his eyes.

“Heya blue, you awake?” April’s hand gently brushed his forehead, Leon cringed as he opened his eyes, “How’re you doing?”

He couldn’t answer, not really. So he leaned into her palm. Flinching as the small movement pulled on his wound from neck to cheek. He hissed through the pain. Tight bandages around his throat feeling suffocating as he would have struggled to breath even without them.

“Sorry, sorry, just wanted to check in,” The details of Aprils face were hard to make out pain blurring them out, “I’m going away for a mission,”

“Do… t,” Leon tried to sound out, it didn’t come anywhere close, but hey look at that: His voice was raspy.

“Don’t worry about me, it’s my job to worry about you,” She pat his cheek, thumb rubbing soft circles under his eye, “Seriously, please, it’s ok to care about yourself, you should, once in a whil- actually all the time,”

Leon shook his head imperceptibly. She was wrong. He had done that, over and over again. Each time they lost so much. He couldn’t, not anymore. Why couldn’t she understand that? 

Leo understood that. He knew what it was like to sit with that guilt, that self hate. He knew how to work for others to ease that feeling even a little bit. As losses stacked everyday and crushed him under their weight.

“I bet your thinking something stupid right now,” April pinched his opposite cheek, the unscarred one that showed off his brilliant red stripe, “I wish you were better so I could beat my love into your skull, but we’ll have to save that for when I get back,”

Leon plucked up the strength to use his right arm. Greaspoing Aprils loosely. He needed to get his point across, even without words, he had to.

“I will be alright, you rest up,” April moved from his grasp to instead thread their fingers together, “I’m your big sister, I’m always going to look out for you, even if I have to do that by not being here,”

No, no that wasn’t what he meant. Leo jerked to grab her again. White hot flares shot through his shoulder. Fuck, wrong arm. Darkness clawed at the edge of his vision, plusing in time with the pain searing through him.

“You’re so………. Don’t let anyone convince you…..” April's voice faded in and out, “ We have always…….. None of this………… alright Leon?”

Leon, that was the last word he caught before his world faded to black. The last thing he heard his sister say. 

When he woke up.

She was gone.

[strawberryicemoon]

Does anyone else feel like the Della that was set up and the Della we actually got were two different characters.

Primarily I think Della's just dumber than we were initially lead to believe. And I think there's something in one of the first things we knew about her was that she had pretty handwriting, where I struggle to believe the Della is patient enough to have neat handwriting. The last Crash of the Sunchaser implied she designed the Spear of Selene. Scrooge said someone who "sees the angles". Like I get that don't speak ill of the dead was in play. And I also get wanting Della's legacy to not match perfectly with her true self, but some of the literally flashbacks we saw implied she was clever (she figured out Dewey was from the future, again, she was sketching the Spear). Having the characters stretch the truth is one thing, but flashbacks is another. I mean we literally saw her Scuba-Diving in a flashback, but in show she hates fish.

Not helped by the fact I assumed she named her children, and was using that as a gauge of her personality. And like. Turbo is very funny. I get why you'd make it a surprise reveal. Recontextualize her personality. But we already were introduced to her in the episode before. Also I just didn't like it tbh. (And kinda like my beef with the whole April May and June thing, I'm not a duck fan, I have no horse in this race, and things can be different, but considering to my understanding the few glimpses of previous iterations of Della, she definitely named her sons, and changing one of the few things that previously existed about the character felt weird to me, cheap even. On one hand I get wanting to show just how disconnected from her son she is and how much the incident cost her. But on the other hand it was just salt in the wound at that point, for a few jokes about the boys names… which have generally been changed to be even more embarrassing than they were previously for more jokes).

I really did like Whatever Happened to Della Duck. The only "Weird' things to me was how technically and artistically unsavvy she seemed to be, when we had scene her sketching the spear of Selene. Like that was a whole ass plot point. And also how oblivious she seemed to what was happening with the Moonlanders when she was presumably "sharp". But y'know. I can excuse one misunderstanding, and she was probably just a bit crazy from being alone on the moon for so long (and any prior mental health issues) and when she gets back other characters will probably be unnerved by her a bit because she's changed. But this was apparently normal Della (aside from not liking her reflection). If someone had spelled out in show the ways she had changed while on the moon I think it would have made all the difference. (Though Ducktales in general has an issue for completely neglecting to state important information until its necessary but long after it was relevant, so the fact no one says that doesn't mean it can't be true tbh).

I think the core of the character, and thus why she caught my attention remained. She's a traumatized woman who did something impulsive (that should have been fine), that had disproportionately huge consequences. And now has to get to know her children. She has to learn to parent on the fly. She has to establish herself as an adult when she's otherwise been stuck in place. She has to reestablish herself with her family, and a new sense of identity in a world that's changed without her.

And looking some of the Della description from the pitch bible we got recently, and the Della described there is closer to the one I thought we were getting prior to her debut. It makes me wonder when that changed. I know early on, in the Moorshire episode, they realized they made Launchpad too dumb after they finished it. To me it feels like they did that with Della (and to a certain extent Donald as well), but then never made the realization about what they did. We already had launchpad as the stupid adult. We didn't need more. Also, to be honest, I struggle to name any strengths over other characters besides the pragmatic "better at flying than Launchpad". Now, don't get me wrong, I still like canon Della. She had a lot of great moments. But to be honest I think all of her best moments, would have also worked with the Della I thought we were getting. Her fears about losing the kids, so lying to them about participating in the fight. Her song. Her punishing Louie for being stupid. The bit where she talked about being unable to look at her reflection and breaking her glass. Teaching Dewey to fly. Realizing how much her kids looked up to her and to what extents they might be idiots to prove themselves to her. I don't want her not to be reckless, just more thoughtful. That said, the way the other characters treated her didn't really help. It felt like at least for a while she was being ignored. Like she wasn't being treated seriously, but also no one was trying to help or understand her. (Which we got Donald blasted off into space after being ecstatic to see her, made me feel like Donald might actually see her... but then 5 episodes in to S3 Donald gets a girlfriend and the twins rarely appear together).

Liking those elements of the pitch bible might be a bit of the classic "the grass is greener" nonsense. And the fact it's just a barebones description not a full fletched character, and to be fair I don't care for every detail in it. But even before the pitch bible, I was bothered by the fact Daisy, not Della was the person who understood Donald best. (My aromantic self does not appreciate the prioritzation of romantic relationships). And here in the pitch bible. It says Della knows Donald best. We didn't get a single glimpse of "was scared to be a mom", even though I'd solidly developed the head canon that the Spear of Selene ride was a form of post-partum fear even before reading this, and I understand that might have been difficult to work into the show, the lack of support for Della in general, or any hints of empathy for why she did what she did doesn't help. Even of dealing with trauma from the instance. I can't say the "stuff just happens" angle is objectively bad. But this is still a story. A narrative. Not reality. It feels cheap as a character, for her biggest mistake to basically boil down to "oops", rather than a huge character flaw. Like yes, being reckless is a flaw. But considering what the family is USUALLY doing, it… isn't? It really isn't any worse than what they family does normally so for her to be punished so harshly for it is a bit unfair.

In the finale the fact it's revealed that Bradford told Della about the spear, also feels kinda cheap to me. I think its an interesting reveal… but considering this is information one of our main protagonists knows it feels bizarre that it is a reveal to the audience. (Or that no one asked Della before). Also it feels a bit like it's trying to absolve Della of blame, but it doesn't address the core problem of (sure the show never states there's a problem but Scrooge makes reference to Della's "one last big adventure" and it's hard not to see this as an attempt to break out of some sort of mental funk. And it again, needlessly victimizes Della. She got stuck in space for 10 years, couldn't even name her own children, loses her leg, gets betrayed, loses her plane kinda-sorta, and is kind of treated like an idiot by many of the other adults around her. Because some guy was trying to mess with Scrooge. Della's moon trip sucks, I don't think they needed to make it worse by making it not even her fault.

I wish we had gotten a scene of Donald telling the boys what Della was like from his perspective. He's her twin. And I really don't want to welcome the comparisons between DT17 and GF. But the lack of any character drawing the parallels between Donald & Della and Huey, Dewey and Louie is absurd. But they don't utilize it. Like at all. No one ever looks at Donald and goes, oh. He lost his twin. That really sucks. The triplets never go. What would it be like if I lost one of you. Like twins are sometimes just siblings. They don't need to have "super special relationship", but in a show about family it's sure awkward that they don't. I am so mad that Huey, Dewey and Louie didn't get to see another side of their Uncle Donald brought out by Della. Or alternatively a Della struggling to connect with her brother. Even better both.

I know the "is the character acting ooc or do you not actually know the character" is well, a thing. I am aware that the post-partum depression, actually clever and observant Della is mostly made up by me. But I also know where in canon it came from to me. Della never acts out of character from once she's introduced. But that character is still a bit off from the character we had come to expect in the first season and a half. She's not completely divorced from what we were told about her. But still. Do I love Della, or the idea of Della. Honestly, I don't know.

This is definitely very OPINION, and not really anything objective.

[lavellenchanted]

💛 & OTP: I want the whole damn thing

💛 Reunion Kiss/Relief

Jackson's an interminably long board meeting when it happens, trying to make sense of the world's most boring financial presentation, so he doesn't immediately notice the news bulletin popping up on his phone. It's only when they start hearing voices in the corridor and someone runs past the board room window that they all start to realise something's going on, and Jackson suddenly catches sight of the blinking red notification on his phone screen.

"Multi-car pile up," he explains shortly to the board, already on his feet and heading for the door, scrolling down for more information. "I'm guessing we're the nearest hospital - it's gonna be all hands on deck, so if you're qualified to hold a scalpel, get down to the pit."

(Frank, still holding the clicker for his presentation, looks thoroughly relieved that his only qualification is in accountancy.)

Halfway down the corridor, Jackson stops dead. A cold shiver run down his spine and it feels like his stomach has dropped out of him entirely as he sees the location of the accident. That's April's route to work.

Immediately he brings up her number and dials - but it goes straight to voicemail, and he wants to be sick. He shoots her off a quick text and then tries ringing again and again as he heads down to the E.R.

Each time it goes to voicemail.

He tries to tell himself not to panic. The phone lines are probably horrendously busy with people trying to contact emergency services or friends and family to make sure they're alright, and April not answering might just mean she's not looking at her phone. She's probably trying to help, if she is near there.

He tells himself that, but all he can think of is Ben calling him, telling him he was going to have to perform a C-section on April in her kitchen, of April quarantined behind glass, of watching April on the operating table of Grey-Sloan.

(How much luck can one person have?)

"Pick up, damn it!" he shouts as her voicemail message plays again, and a nurse passing jumps in fright.

"Dr Avery? Is everything okay?"

"I'm sorry, I'm just - I'm worried about my wife."

The word slips out automatically, and it's only after he says it that he remembers that, technically, April isn't his wife any more. Because he was stupid enough to divorce her. They're not even dating, despite the fact that they've been living together since they came to Boston, are raising Harriet together.

And yet he never really stopped thinking of her in that way, did he? Even when they were separated, when he was dating other women, when she was marrying someone else, he still thought of her as his.

"Has a woman called April Kepner been brought in? Late thirties, red hair?"

The nurse shakes her head. "I don't think so - not that I've seen. I'll check for you."

She scurries away, but before Jackson can follow or try to ring April again he's stopped and asked for a consult, and then another, and another, and then he gets pulled into a surgery and loses all track of time.

The whole way through he's repeating silently, Please, God. Please let her be okay. Please let me get another chance. I promise I won't waste this one.

His faith still isn't as strong as April's, he doubts it ever will be. Half the time he's not even really sure what it is he believes in. But it's comforting to pray, whether anyone's listening or not.

When he's finally finished and comes back out into the corridor, he immediately pulls his phone out. It's been nearly five hours, and there's still nothing from April. He wants to scream.

And then -

"There's no signs of internal bleeding, but get a CT scan just to be sure."

He spins round, his heart in his throat. April's just coming out of a patient room with an intern; she's in jeans an a tshirt instead of scrubs, dirt and what looks like splashes of blood staining them, her hair scraped back and a band-aid on her forehead, but she's alive and whole and the most beautiful thing Jackson's ever seen.

"April?"

"Jackson, there you are!" Her face lights up as she turns and sees him. Relief crashing over him, he starts running towards her. "I tried to find you but they said you were in surgery. I came with one of the -"

He cuts her off by pulling her into his arms and soundly kissing her. How she got here doesn't really seem to matter any more, just that she is here and uninjured.

She lets out a little sound of shock, and then melts into him the way she always has, her hands coming up to clutch at his scrubs. The feel of her lips is achingly familiar against his, and he rains kisses down on them, one after another, trying to make up for every time he should have kissed her but didn't. And his heart sings as she lifts herself up on tip-toes and kisses him back, meeting each stroke of his mouth with one of her own.

Finally he pulls back, but only enough to rest his forehead against hers.

"You weren't answering your phone," he says quietly.

"I was doing triage at the scene, and then the battery died. I'm sorry."

"You're alright?"

"Totally fine. I promise."

For the first time since he saw the notification on his phone, he starts to relax.

"Dr Avery?" Glancing up, he sees the nurse he was talking to earlier at the end of the corridor. "You found your wife, then?"

Jackson looks down at April, who's smiling knowingly up at him, a warmth in her eyes that gives him the confidence to reply, "Yeah. Yeah, I did."

kiss prompts

[wheelsgoroundincircles]

1969-71 Continental Mark III

Iacocca’s Lincoln: The Inside Story of the 1969-71 Continental Mark III

Lee Iacocca is remembered as the father of the Ford Mustang and the Chrysler Minivan, but there was another Iacocca vehicle that changed the Motor City: the Lincoln Continental Mark III. 

In auto industry lore, the design studio guys hate it when the people from upper management start fooling around with their work. Nothing good can come from that, or so the story goes. But there’s at least one instance that cuts against the grain of that familiar Motor City tale. It was Ford senior executive Lee Iacocca who originated the two signature styling features of the Lincoln Continental Mark III: the classic stand-up grille and the faux tire bustle in the deck lid.

It’s no exaggeration to note that these visual features created a design theme and defined the Lincoln Mark Series brand for decades. Years later, lead designer L. David Ash would recall that neither he nor Styling VP Gene Bordinat had conceived these two now-famous design gadgets; no, in fact it was all Iacocca. “Neither one of us would have done it on our own, I’m sure,” Ash remembered. “I have to give Lee credit for that.”

As vice president of the Ford Motor Company’s car and truck group—top product boss, among other duties—Lido Anthony “Lee” Iacocca had at least two problems on his plate in the autumn of 1965. First, sales of the Ford Thunderbird had flattened out after a promising start years earlier. Meanwhile, Ford’s flagship Lincoln division wasn’t setting the world on fire, either. While the Elwood Engel-designed 1961 Lincoln was a style maker of the decade, it was nearing the end of its product cycle. Actually, Lincoln was a perennial problem for Ford senior management. According to Bordinat, it had never turned an actual profit since Henry and Edsel Ford acquired the company from the Lelands in 1922.

So a plan was hatched to build a new, small Lincoln on the same platform as the Thunderbird, which was switching to body-on-frame construction for 1967 (in part due to limited production volume). This would help the Thunderbird fill out production capacity at the Wixom, Michigan plant, and it would give Lincoln an entry in the rapidly expanding personal-luxury category, joining the Buick Riviera, Cadillac Eldorado, Olds Toronado, et alia.

The original body design by Ash and his staff, at one point named the Lancelot, was clean and elegant but lacked visual punch, one could argue. Iacocca’s fake-Rolls grille shell and spare-tire bump fixed that, creating a distinctive and memorable look. It was said that the chrome grille shell was the most expensive such piece in the industry, with a unit cost nearing $200. Ash and crew completed the theme by hiking up the rear quarters and deck lid two inches, scrunching the roof down into the body for a classic ’30s profile.

From its exterior appearance, you might never know that the finished design shared its greenhouse with the Thunderbird coupe, or its floorpan, black metal, and 117.2-inch wheelbase with the T-Bird four-door. When Henry Ford II saw the clay model in the studio, he reportedly said, “I’d like to drive that home.” With the Ford family’s seal of approval secured, the new car was christened the Continental Mark III, establishing its lineage with Edsel Ford’s original 1939 Continental and the Continental Mark II of 1956-57. At that point the previous Mark III, IV and V models of 1958-60 were conveniently forgotten—today it would be called a reboot.

Introduced in April 1968 as a 1969 model, technically (Lincoln division downplayed model year designations, trying to present the car as “timeless”) the Mark III was panned by the critics but embraced by the car-buying public. “The buffs may not like it but the people with money will,” Bordinat wisely predicted. The Mark wasn’t big for an American luxury car at just over 216 inches long and 4,800 lbs, but it was big enough, with solid road manners and a comfortable ride. Interior specialist Herman Brunn covered the seats with rich, pre-creased leather, like the easy chairs in a men’s club. Noteworthy technical features included an all-new 460 CID V8 and Sure-Track, an early form of antilock braking developed by Kelsey-Hayes.

With a base price of $6,758 compared to $4,807 for its Thunderbird cousin, the Mark III was quite a moneymaker for the Motor Company, spawning an even more popular and profitable successor, the Mark IV (shown with Iacocca below). The Mark series, which comfortably outsold the Eldorado and effectively doubled the Lincoln division’s volume at times, continued on all the way to 1998 and the Mark VIII, and Iacocca would to on to further glories, including the Chrysler Minivan.

[momolady]

April Fool's! Author April 2024 #1

I posted some of this on Patreon and it got some good feedback. But I wanted to share some stuff before I posted it. I found a file with a ton of old writing on it. If you were on Patreon in October you got to see some of this mess. For Author April I decided to share here so ya'll can see where I started. I've been writing since I was ten, but I started writing original works around the time I got out of high school. Anyways, this is Wild Adapter. It was from 2009.

I was barely 20.

This story is FIFTEEN years old. But anyways...

I found the old book cover I made for this story and I wanted to share despite how humiliatingly bad it is. I am already considering reworking it and making it a novel by rewriting, editiing and changing a lot. My bff even gave the news that she so loved a character from this story she considered naming one of her twins after them.

So like, maybe this is worth investing time and love back into, maybe it's worth revisiting my late teens early twenties and see if that idiot had something going I can finish. Let me know, would love to make this a journey to share next year!

Prologue

Fate leads the willing and drags along the unwilling. -Seneca

When I was little, my father took me to where he worked. He was a doctor for a special orphanage and some of his patients had been asking to see me. The entire time we were there, Dad never let go of me, and whenever he did he was so close beside me it was like he was my shadow. Dad had never been this protective of me before. At the park he let me run free as long as I stayed in his sight, but he never watched me like a hawk.

He showed me into a room that had four sets of bunk beds, and I found it odd considering the room was so small. Then there were six boys and two girls. The two girls clamored around me, held me, kissed me, cooed and giggled to me. The six boys watched me with curiosity. They were amazingly still and quiet, only whispering to one another for brief moments. They were watching me as if I were some sort of fascinating animal. It looked like they wanted to approach me but were afraid I’d run away from them if I did.  

One boy managed to gather up the courage to approach. He broke away from the group and kneeled before me and the other two girls. He held his hand out and I grabbed onto it almost instinctively. I don’t remember much about him, or anyone else in that room, but I did remember the boy’s eyes as he watched me. I can’t remember the color, only that they fascinated me, dazzled me. I was little so I was able to comprehend a lot more about emotions and sensations than I do now. I can remember a great burst a joy as he looked down at me. His hand tightened over mine and he pulled me towards him. I heard Dad shout, but I felt no danger. I felt safe. The boy clutched me tightly in his arms. I heard the girls coo and muse sweetly. The boy held me tight and firm. I wasn’t sure, but I believe he was crying.  I wanted to hold him. But my arms were too small.

Chapter One: The Empty House

I came home expecting the house to be completely empty. I could also see smoke rising from the chimneystack on father’s private lab where our backyard had once been. This meant I would have to make dinner then deliver it to him and watch him eat it to make sure he actually had something to eat that night.

Dad and I lived alone in a three story Victorian mansion painted mint green. The house itself was largely unfurnished due to that fact it was too big for the two of us. The house also had a screened in porch at the back and ivy growing all around it and up to the roof. It had been in my mother’s family for generations. Technically, according to family tradition, I was the heir of the house considering I was mother’s last living descendent. Dad and I joked about this. He said I could kick him out anytime and he could live alone in the lab. I said then I wouldn’t have to work and I could let my friends live in the house with a monthly rent. I would never do that though, even though Dad did practically live in the lab. The mansion was his home, our home. And we were the only things we truly had.

In back, where my swing set used to be, sat Dad’s private lab. I tried to keep it private for him, but every so often I went inside and became his lab assistant. To me it looked like the science lab of a high school, a well stocked high school lab at that.

During the seventies a garage with an apartment above it had been added back when my mom’s parents did use it as a boarding house. The apartment had been Mom’s room, keeping her away from all the hippies and beatniks her parents said. The garage apartment then became my brother Spencer’s when he turned ten. I hadn’t been inside it for over ten years. At least not since he and Mom died. In fact the garage itself became untouched save for storage. Dad and I parked out front then walked around to the back door and into the bright, yellow kitchen.

I was surprised though, that when I entered the house Dad was sitting at the table preparing the take out he had ordered from Lee’s Take Out Dragon of Fifth Street. We both stared at each other for a moment, as if we had no idea who the other person was. We then smiled awkwardly and went on with what we had been doing before.

I sat my school things in the closet and kicked my shoes off against my bag. I then wafted over to the dinner table and looked over the spread Dad had ordered. It was a rare occasion when Dad made dinner. It wasn’t that he was lazy or a bad parent, he just got wrapped up in his work easily. That, and he nearly burns down the house every time he attempts to cook.

He sometimes jokingly said that while working he would remember he had a daughter and come in to discover me five years older than he had last seen me. For me, I said he’d come in looking the same each and every time I saw him.

His hair would be shaggy, unkempt, and graying around the ears. His lab coat, uneven due to sloppy buttoning, yellowing at the cuffs and collar, and dingy from being worn without-end. His shoes untied, scuffed, and often times mismatched like his socks. His glasses smudged, lopsided, and duct taped to the point I had to force him to buy a new pair.

His face was unexplainably young and handsome for his age. Under his disheveled hair he had bright green eyes surrounded by long black lashes. He had a cute button nose and smooth cheeks with high cheekbones. He had dimples whenever he smiled and a round beauty mark at the corner of his lips. Despite his scruffy and unkempt appearance my father’s skin was always clean and unblemished furthering his youthful appearance.

I more than often thought my father was an ancient alchemist who had created a philosopher’s stone and was perpetually manufacturing an elixir that kept him from aging. If so, this answered a lot of questions about him. He was more knowledgeable than his age allowed and often spoke with outdated words and phrases. I also found myself hoping I had his good genes and was able to look that good at his age.

I looked up as Dad handed me a plate and fork. His dimples appearing in a shy, sheepish fashion in an attempt to get me to speak.

“You didn’t tell me you got a job.” He replied, sitting down in his chair.

“I‘ve had it for two months.” I answered, sitting at the opposite end of the table. Then for his benefit I quickly added on, “And it’s only part time so it doesn‘t affect my school work.” I smiled. “Not that I have much anyways.” I joked.

Dad’s eyes softened, making him look pitiful. “I still don’t like you working during the school year. Don’t I give you enough money?”

“You do, Dad.” I argued in attempts to get that sad look off his face. “But I need to get out of this depressing house once in a while. I need this job, Dad.”

“Are you sure?” He pressed.

“My school work is better than ever, considering I only have electives this semester.” I plopped a spring roll onto my plate. “Besides, I’m using the money you give me to start up a college fund.”

I could see a twinkling smile in his eyes. “Well that’s very smart of you, Mackenzie.” He was overly proud of me, especially during moments like these.

Dad was one of the only people who called me by my first name instead of a silly nickname. I had several. My friends called me Mac, Kenny, KZ, MC, and a number of other things. I suppose I had my darling friend Scout to thank for that. She had started the whole nickname craze back in fifth grade and ever since then I’m never, ever called by Mackenzie. Unless someone is angry of course.

“When do you go to work again?” Dad asked between bites of his fried rice.

“Um…tomorrow.” I answered.

Dad stopped shoveling fried rice and looked up at me in shock and awe. “But it’s Saturday.”

“I know.” I sighed, shrugging my shoulders. “But they need all the help they can get and I’m one of the few delivery people who actually work.” I grunted.

The place I worked at was a small collection of family owned business that, in recent years, had pulled together to form one industry that sold books, baked goods and other food, movies, games, appliances, and other such things. They called the place the Market. Not only that, they delivered, which was my job.

Also, I wasn‘t just working tomorrow because they needed me. I had a whole ulterior motive for wanting to work that day and working the one route everyone avoids on Saturday due to this very reason. Every Saturday a huge order of food, books, games, and everything and anything imaginable went out to a thought-to-be abandoned studio in the artist district downtown. And for the past month I had been working at the Market I had had to make a delivery to that building where I would be greeted by a voice through an intercom and two envelopes in the mailbox. One filled with the money to pay for the delivery and the other with a large tip for me. But it wasn’t the tip I was after.

The voice on the other end of the intercom was polite and nice, but I never learned his name, unlike with most people on my route, and I had never seen him. Since I already had an over active imagination it was going crazy at the prospects at what the intercom hid. I had already made up my mind to at least try and befriend the faceless voice, or at least learn his name.

Everyone at work had rumors about the place. There was one stipulating it was a crazy shut-in who was actually the second person on the grassy knoll, running since the assassination on JFK years and years ago. One was that it was what was left of Manson’s cult, in hiding until they receive word. Another, even more ridiculous idea was that it was a coven of vampires. Then again, a recent boom in the vampire craze had been going on so I chalked this up to the overactive imagination of fans.

While the first two could be considered plausible, although I doubted it, the voice sounded really young. And while I had never met the guy, he seemed sweet and nice, so I doubt he could be a killer at all. I could feel it in my gut that I was nowhere near harm standing there in front of his door.

The next day as I arrived at the Market I found one of my coworkers, and best friends, Dee Laughlin, sitting in the employee lounge sipping on a cup of hot tea. She looked up at me with her large hazel eyes and beamed.

“Good morning, Mac.” She greeted me cheerfully.

“Hey Dee.” I answered as I moved over to the snack machine to decide what to have for breakfast.

“Scout said she was going to be running late today.” Dee murmured, looking back briefly at her opened book before she shut it. “You know there’re same day old donuts and pastries in the bakery you can help yourself to.” She chose a job in the Market Bakery in order to loose weight. She said if she worked around the stuff long enough, she’d grow and aversion to it. Sure enough, she had, but in the process she had become addicted to the overly sweet coffees they also served.

“Nah.” I mused, placing a dollar bill into the machine. “I’m fine with this.”

“I just fixed some coffee too, so help yourself.” Dee mused as she looked dreamily back into her book.

“I don’t understand why you don’t just work in the bookstore instead of the bakery.” I chuckled, moving towards the coffee pot.

“I work in the bakery to have an aversion to pastries.” Dee laughed. “You know that. Besides, if I had a job in the bookstore, I’d never have any money. I have insurance and a car payments to think about.”

I nodded. “Well, what about Scout?” I asked as I poured my coffee into a yellow mug with a P on it. Scout loved the mug for this reason.

“Scout is a special case.” Dee muttered bitterly and snapped her book shut. “She rides her scooter everywhere she goes and with all the games and videos she buys she doesn’t have to go anywhere else.” She then watched me as I added creamer and sugar to my mug. “And what about you?”

I peered up from my brewing. “Me?”

“You’re Dad pays for everything and even gives you money for the week. Yet you’re working here.” Dee paused a moment to tie back her cropped, sandy hair into pigtails that jutted out from behind her ears.

“I work to get out of the house. I’m not like Scout in that department.” I breathed, taking a seat across from Dee at the table.

“And you deliver, the most brutal job to take! Why don’t you just stick to working in a specific station like Scout and I do?”

I told Dee everything. I enjoyed the deliveries and not having to stay in one place all day. I got to travel around and meet new people and see new places. I also got to drive, which I loved doing anyways. I got to drive in places, that during the right season, were straight from fairy tale lore. Doing the deliveries gave me a chance to escape the mundane life that had built up in the years of complacency I had gotten used to since the accident.

Dee nodded in approval. “To each his own.”

The door slammed open and a white blur whipped into the room followed by a cold gust and a bundled up Scout Theobald. After slamming the door back shut and shaking the freshly fallen snow from her shoulders, Scout peered out from between her hat and scarf  with her big blue eyes.

“It just started snowing like crazy for no apparent reason out there!” Scout blurted as she unwrapped herself from her thick jacket and scarf. She hung them on the coat rack and readjusted her beloved cap. She wore that hat religiously and she wore it proudly. She had received the hat from her favorite band’s guitarist when, in a moment of extreme ripping, had tossed his head so hard that the hat flung out into the crowd and into Scout’s eager fingers.

“You’re early.” Was all Dee and I could think to say to her.

Scout’s already thick bottom lip pouted out even further, looking like a slice of apple, as she frowned at us. “I saw this snow start up and decided to be early than never, or, God forbid, buried in that mess.” She peered out the window before she grabbed up a coffee mug. “I ain’t ever seen it snow this hard before.”

Dee and I both stood up to peer out the window. “You didn’t come here on your scooter did you?” Dee gasped, looking over her shoulder at Scout in awe and horror.

Scout shrugged, more snow falling from her curly, amber colored hair. “What else could I do?”  She took a deep sip of coffee.

“Take the bus.” I scoffed. “You could have gotten yourself killed in this weather!”

“It’s safer than a car.” Scout argued weakly but triumphantly. “The worst I could get is a cold.” She then laughed at the idea.

“Or pneumonia.” Dee snapped.

Dee and Scout had known each other longer than any two people should. They had grown up together, going through school in the same class since second grade. They had been together so long they could finish each other’s sentences. They sometimes even came into work wearing similar outfits. I was often jealous of how close they were. While I had met and befriended them in the fifth grade, at least seven years ago, I still felt like the third wheel. And even though they were my closest friends and confidants. I don’t think I have ever really had a best friend.

Scout pushed a stray hair out of her eyes then sat down at the table. “I never get sick.” She bragged proudly, putting on her Joan Crawford smug expression.

Dee and I sat down on the other end of her and decided not to argue with her. She had obviously survived the storm and like she said, she never got sick. She took a lot of personal days during the school year, but never once had she taken a day because of a cold or other illness.

“I’m glad I work in the bakery where it’s warm.” Dee breathed. “I know I’d probably die if I had to work in that weather.” Her and Scout then both glanced over at me. “Sorry Mac.”

“Sorry for what?” I asked. “They’ll probably make me work stock or cover a shift in a section today.” I turned back to the window. “There’s no way in hell they’re going to make us do deliveries today.” I turned back to my coffee and was struck by the realization of what I had just said. I wouldn’t be able to go to the studio today and try to make contact with whatever it was living behind those walls. I bit my lip and sighed disappointedly.

“Or they’ll just let you go home.” Scout grinned. “Or, you could take over my shift and I can go home.” If I had a younger sibling, I’d want them to be like Scout.

“Don’t be such a lazy mooch, Scout.” Dee scolded. “Although, it does sound tempting.” She sighed dreamily. “A hot cup of herbal tea, a good book, and the fire place. Oh, and my favorite tunes playing full blast in my new surround sound system. Sounds heavenly.” She cooed. “In more ways than one.” If I had an older sister, I’d want her to be like Dee.

“To you.” Scout sneered. “For me it’s a customized, wireless controller, bags of chips, cold sodas, the newest Slayers game, and a warm TV screen.” She took a deep sip of her coffee and added quickly. “All nestled snuggly in my bed and wrapped in several blankets.”

“Of course.” Dee snickered, wrinkling her nose. “If you had an opportunity like that, you’d never leave your home.” She glanced up at me and smiled. “What about you? What’s your dream wintry day in?”

“Well…” I thought for a moment. “I’d snuggle up on the couch with my favorite old blanket, pop in an old classic movie, then relax with a warm bowel of popcorn in my lap, a bag of chocolate chips at my right, and one of those huge jugs of chocolate milk on the floor.” I smiled dreamily at this thought. It had been a long time since I had a movie day.

Dee chuckled. “Classic literature, classic films, and…” She stared blankly at Scout. “Classic brain rotting.”

“Don’t dis it till you try it.” Scout swayed side to side, wagging her finger. She then glanced up at the clock. “Uh oh!” She finished off her coffee and jumped to her feet and strutted to the door. “Time to open shop.” She announced happily.

“You seem exuberant.” Dee mused.

Scout grinned goofily. “Of course! Today’s the release date of the new Vampire Hunter X game!” She gripped her fists close to her cheeks. “Innocent Blood the Second Dawning! I will literally be the first person to get their hands on it.”

“You enjoy that.” Dee sighed, patting Scout’s head as she left the lounge.

Scout turned to me before she left. “What’re you gonna do?”

“I’ll check my route and see what needs to be done. If there is anything serious I’ll get that done with. If not, I’ll tack it onto Monday’s shift.”

Scout nodded in agreement. “Just be real careful, Mac. If anything happened to you out there…”

I smiled softly. “Thanks Scout. I’ll be safe. Promise.”

Scout gave me another reassuring smile. “Alrighty then! Come see me anytime you want. We’ll lunch.” She then bounded out of the employee lounge and down the hall to her section of the Market.

I made my way slowly down to the delivery room. As I suspected, no one was there. All the other delivery boys must have seen the snow and said to heck with it all. I lifted up the delivery roster for my route. Sure enough, the studio’s order was on there. I checked the delivery number and found the box. There was a post-it on the front that told me to get the new game Scout had been rambling about earlier.

I’d get the game then head out to make the delivery then head home for a much needed movie date. I’d even make quick lunch plans with Scout.

I took the box with me to the gaming section of the market. Scout was surprised to see me after such a small break from one another and she happily got me the game. We made plans for lunch at noon, if weather permitted, at Dee’s bakery so we could get a discount.

I went out into the snow and wind, barely making it to my delivery car unfrozen. I was also surprised at how clear the roads were. They had probably salted them early that morning while Dee, Scout, and I had been talking.

I slowly made my way to the artist district, leery of black ice. The sky around the many studios and galleries was a dark gray from smoke billowing chimneystacks. It reminded me of a scene in an old movie depicting a very primal, coming-of-age city.

I parked out front of the old studio. As I approached the front steps, I noticed there was no smoke coming from the chimney. Perhaps the person who lived here was rich, considering how much he spent each week at the Market.

I pressed the buzzer and waited.

“Hello?”

I licked my lips and took a quick breath. “The Market Delivery. Mackenzie Bronwyn delivering.”

“Oh wow! You actually came!” He laughed. “Aw gee…I didn’t think you would be coming. Um…I didn’t put the money in the mailbox. Uh…” He stalled for a moment and I thought I heard people arguing and running around in the background.

“Uh, hold on one moment. The door is unlocked. You can come in and warm up while we get your money together.” There was a loud, stunning buzzing noise and a loud click. The doorknob turned ever so slightly.

I was so surprised I was actually frozen. Forgive the pun.

“Y-yeah. Thank you.” I turned my attention to the steely, icy doorknob. I swallowed hard and reached for it. Ice shattered as I turned the knob and pushed myself in. The door groaned lowly, like someone disappointed.

I stepped inside the large entrance hall, it was dark, but cozy and warm. I closed the door behind me and stood in the darkness. I dumped the box off the handcart and noticed I was breathing loudly. It was better than I expected. Not only did I get to have a few words with him, I was inside the studio. And from the sounds over the intercom, he wasn’t alone.

As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I could notice some of the details in the hallway.

To my left I was a little surprised to see a shattered mirror. I bit my lip and turned away from it. I wasn’t sure to take it as a sign or as a piece of modern artwork. I decided to pay more attention to the right side of the hallway, which was a large white wall covered with crayon drawings and other random artistic scribbles. Certain sections were dated and signed even. I leaned closer and ran my hand over it, barely making out the signature of Dakota.

There were three other distinct signatures on the wall but I couldn’t make out the names in the dim light. I ran my fingers across the indention of one name, trying to decipher it.

“Here’s your money.”

I gasped, jumping at the sound of his voice. I gasped and caught my breath. “Gee! You scared me.” I chuckled, scanning the darkness to try and find where the voice had come from.

“So sorry.” He laughed. “Um, here.” Two white envelopes came out of the darkness towards me. Beyond them I saw a pale, moonlight hand and arm. “You can leave the box there if you wish.”

I knelt forward and plucked the envelopes from his fingers. As soon as I did, the moonlight pale hand vanished. I studied the envelopes quietly then looked back up into the darkness. I heard something shifting as if impatient for me to leave. I opened up one of the envelopes to make sure the balance was correct.

“Just get out of here!” A voice I didn’t recognize roared out at me.

I jumped and dropped the handcart. I rushed to pick it back up and once I had a grip on it I ran back out into the white snow. I stood there at the door, wondering what had made me move so fast. I pressed my palm against my face and ran my fingers limply through my hair. I barely glanced over my shoulder at the door, afraid I might see someone or something standing there.

The intercom buzzed and I jumped again. Clutching my heart I quietly answered.

“Yes?” I gasped.

“Sorry about that.” The familiar voice said. “He’s, uh, unfriendly.”

That barely answered one of my questions. There was more than one person living in the old studio. I turned to face the intercom, unsure if I should say anything to the familiar voice beyond the door. I furrowed my brow.

“It’s okay. I was intruding.” I answered meekly. “Thank you for your continued business.” I waved, even though I knew they probably couldn’t see me.

I quietly turned back to my snow covered car. And as I drove home I began to wonder more and more about the people living within the studio. Hidden away from the public eye in a giant safe. Were they a family? Friends? How many were living there? Why were they living there? All the possibilities built up around me like walls, forbidding me to think about anything else.

Chapter Two: Like a Dream

The snowstorm didn’t stop until late Sunday night. And even then the snow stayed piled up until next Saturday due to continuous light flurries and snowfalls that occurred throughout the week.

The snow was thick everywhere, except on the roads and where people had shoveled it away, But where it still stood, like on our lawn, when you stood on it, you could detect three distinct layers. The top layer was soft and powdery, the fresh snow. The second layer was the kind of snow you’d want to use to build snowmen, for snowballs, and typical winter fun. Then, the bottom layer was thickly packed ice that probably wouldn’t disappear until spring, or, if you used a jackhammer on it.

Other than that it was safe to drive on the roads because they salted it constantly. School had only been canceled three days that week and I had to work double duty in the Market. I did my deliveries then worked in whatever section of the store that needed my help. A lot of people took any excuse to be able to take off work, especially during such heavy, snowy weather.

On Saturday it had finally gotten back to a place of normalcy where I was back to being just a delivery girl. I received my delivery roster for my route and our supervisor told us that once we finished our routes we could head on home. He said his knees were hurting him and that meant another snowstorm.

I didn’t trust his knees, but I did trust the clouds enveloped sky and the way the clouds shaped together like a package of frozen cotton swabs. And it was also as if I could smell the bad weather coming on. In a way, it was the same as the day of the accident, something just didn’t feel right.

After examining my roster and the clouds I jumped into my car loaded with packages. There was an especially huge package that took up half my back seat that was headed for the studio. It was their largest one thus far.

I delivered all the other packages first then ended my route with the artist district and the old studio. I had to pull out my trolley cart to lift the giant box. It felt like one of the boxes in Dee’s room filled to the gills with thick books.

I left the handcart at the foot of the stairs and walked up to the intercom. I pressed the buzzer and waited a moment. There was no answer. I stared puzzled at the mesh screen of the intercom and pressed the buzzer again.

Still no answer.

I decided to examine the mailbox. Perhaps they had left me a note along with the payment. I pulled out the envelopes, but no note. I pressed the buzzer again. Still there was no one to answer me.

I pulled my scarf tighter around my jaw and neck as a cold breeze floated around me. I waited for a few more minuets then descended down the stairs and went to try and heft the box onto the stoop.

It was times like these I wished Scout was around. She possessed an amazing upper body strength. I had often heard her bragging that she could lift a little over twice her body weight.

As I managed to figure out a way to balance the huge box in my arms I felt a presence around me. I glanced up to see three rough looking guys standing around me. I gave them a cordial smile then went back to work, hoping they either go away or ask to help.

I wasn’t so lucky.

One of them grabbed my arm and pulled me forward. I was able to keep myself from being pulled into their crowd by pushing against the heavy box. With a hard kick I was able to make the box flip over and disorient the gang if only for a moment.

I ran, dashing into the alley between the studio and the tenement building beside it. I heard them chasing after me so I ran faster. I pushed myself out of the small wedge between the buildings and popped out in the back yard of the studio.

The small yard was littered with rusted exercise equipment, several bent and destroyed trashcans, and stacks and stacks of folded up cardboard boxes from the Market. I heard the gang behind me and I raced forward, praying someone inside would also hear them and come out to see what the noise was about.

The ground stopped suddenly, crumbling into a huge ravine where the sewer line ran for the artist district. I looked this way and that. I stared up at the windows of the studio. All the windows were closed and covered. I ran up to the backdoor and started poudning on it and screaming

“Let me in! Let me in! Please! Someone! Help me!” There was no sound from inside, no sign of life at all. I cursed and raced for the chain link fence separating the properties. Just as I was making way over the top I was pulled back down onto the icy ground. I foot came down against my temple and for a moment everything was black.

Just as they were forcing me deeper into the snow I heard one of them scream and I slowly came back to my senses. Their release on me became looser until none of their hands were even on me. I sat up from the snow to see a black shadow bashing one of the thugs across the head with what looked like a rusted free-weight bar. I winced, relieved someone came to my rescue, but afraid I had only gotten rescued by an even more dangerous animal.

The shadow kicked at a downed thug then turned to stare at me through the visor of his helmet. He was dressed from head to foot in black leather, every inch of his skin hidden away under a thick skin of shining black. He had large shoulders and a muscular chest. His arms were twice the size of mine and I could see the ripples from the muscles even under the leather. His hands were big but thin with long fingers, his right hand still clutching onto the rusted bar. His waist was slender and he had long, muscular legs.

He walked towards me and pulled me out of the snow by my shoulders. His head bobbed up and down, inspecting me.

“You okay?” He asked gruffly.

I felt like crying but something held me back. “Y-yeah.” I sputtered. I had half expected it to be the voice over the intercom. But I was wrong and disappointed and I suddenly started crying.

“Tha-thank you so much!” I balled.

His hand came down on top of my head and ruffled my hair. “Stop crying.” He huffed, sounding a little impatient. “You’re bleeding so you better get home.” He wiped a little blood away from my temple then rubbed his thumb against his pants.

I rubbed my eyes. “Bu-but…”

“Hurry up and get home.” He pointed in the direction of the alley. “Ya hear me?” He half threatened me with the bar. “Get!” He shoved me forward with his hand then prodded my back with the bar.

I wanted to turn around and thank him again, but I was too frazzled to even breathe. Only until I had gotten in my car and lost sight of the studio did I breathe again. I pulled my car over to stop and compose myself. As I did so I saw a red motorcycle fly by with a man covered in leather riding on the back. I was so relieved I smiled. Although, I had never expected my guardian angel to be a leather clad biker.

When I got home, hoping I could take care of the cut on my head before Dad saw, I was horrified to see Dad standing in the kitchen making coffee. He was smiling when I came in but that faded away with an instant and he magically produced the first aid kit and was rushing me to sit at the table.

“My God, Mackenzie! What happened to you?” He tied my wavy black hair back for me in a ponytail, then poured some rubbing alcohol on a cotton swab.

What could I tell him? I had to think up a believable story fast.

“I was making a delivery and slipped on some ice.” I laughed.

He wiped the swab over the cut and I hissed. Nothing stung like that. “Oh my poor girl.” He whispered, then putting some disinfectant on it. “Did anyone help you?”

I smiled. “Yeah. Someone helped me.”

“That’s good.” Dad then put some Neosporin on the cut and a little band-aid. “Where did you fall at?” He asked, putting the kit away.

“Um…the artist district, in front of the old studio.”

Dad furrowed his brow and looked at me as if he wanted to ask me something then he went back to placing the first-air kit back in the cabinet above the stove.

“Well I’m just glad you’re safe.” He kissed me on the forehead. “Please be more careful next time. Okay?”

I nodded. “Okay, Dad.” I then smiled reassuringly for his benefit.

“Oh!” I then quickly changed subject. “Would it be okay if I spent the night with Scout and Dee tomorrow?”

“That’s fine with me. But you girls be careful in this weather, okay?”

The next day, Sunday, I went back to the studio. I carried with me a gift of thanks for the man clad in leather, hoping he was a tenant at the studio. As I had made my way to the studio a thick snowstorm had blown up and by the time I had gotten there, I couldn’t see barely five feet ahead of me. Everything thing was white and swirling like a snow globe with too much glitter inside.

I raced through the snow, pressing against the wind as if it were a wall and finally I came up on the stoop where I was a little safer from the icy elements, but just barely. I pressed the buzzer, praying they would answer inside.

“Hello?” The voice sounded quizzical.

“Hi, it’s me.” I rasped. “Mackenzie. Mackenzie Bronwyn” I blurted. “Listen I hate to bother you but I came by with a gift for the guy who saved me yesterday.”

I was equally surprised to hear him blurt back at me. “What are you doing out here? You could have gotten yourself killed in this weather. Yes! Come on! Come in!” He sounded both angry yet concerned for me. The door made the loud buzzing and it was kicked open from inside.

As I walked back into the warm hallway I heard an angry wind howling out behind me and slam the door against my back. I squeezed the gift close to my chest and held in my scream. My eyes locked on the broken mirror, many eyes looked back at me.

I waited for what seemed like hours there in the entranceway for someone to great me. Finally I heard someone approach then stop suddenly beyond the line of darkness.

“Are you warm enough?” He struck a match and lit and candle. In the glow of it I just barely made out his soft features. He was young, a little older than me but still young. He had soft, white skin and dark hair.

“Yes, thank you.” I looked down at my gift and held it out at arms length. “I don’t know if he lives here or not but I just wanted to thank the guy who saved me yesterday.”

“That’s very kind of you.” He breathed softly. “Um…listen, Mackenzie…” His voice cracked. “Our power is out, and, um, I don’t know when it’ll it come back on. I’ll give you some matches and candles if you want them.

“If I have to I suppose…” I held my arms back to my chest. “Is the snowstorm that bad?”

“Something like that.” He murmured. “I made up a room for you that you can stay in until the storm clears up. Is that alright?”

I felt oddly at home yet unwelcome at the same time. “That’s very nice of you. Thank you.” I swallowed. “I’m sorry I intruded like this. I never expected to the weather to get this bad this quickly.”

“It’s alright just come this-”

“No way!” Another voice blurted. “She can’t stay here. You!” The new and angry voice roared at me. “You need to go!” I barely made him out in the candlelight. His brow was heavy and creased, his face covered with stubble.

“Dude! Don’t be so cruel.” The first voice snapped. “It isn’t safe out there for her to drive.”

“Well we can’t keep her here.” The second voice sneered.

“You don’t have to worry about her.” The first voice whispered. They probably thought I couldn’t hear them. But ever since I was a little child, I could always hear the faintest of noises. I was rather proud of my unnatural hearing ability.

Well, right now I felt rather uneasy over hearing this odd conversation. I was an outsider who could possibly be in on a deep secret the tenants of this old studio hadn’t let out to anyone except themselves. I swallowed hard. I wanted to leave then and there to stop their fighting. But outside the wind was getting louder and louder, and the sound of ice beating against the door was growing from faint, tiny tinks to the sound of loud knocking.

Finally, the second voice roared. “Fine! But don’t come crying to me when she sees you and goes running away screaming!” He stormed off and I heard a door slam and something shatter.

“Um…Mackenzie?” The first voice murmured. “Can you see well enough in this light? Or would you like the candle?”

“Yeah, I can see fine. I don‘t need the candle” I gulped. “I hope I’m not intruding or anything.”

“Not at all.” He laughed softly. “My name is Vegas.” I heard his hand slide across the wall. “You know. It’s funny really. Ever since you became our delivery girl I had this feeling about you.”

“Excuse me?” His words made my insides jump. I suddenly felt scared.

“Well, you know how you sometimes have this sixth sense about a person who one day winds up being your closest friend?” Vegas asked. “That’s kind of what I meant. Sorry if I scared you.”

“Oh.” I chuckled meekly. “Sure, sure.” I didn’t have the guts to tell him that I felt the very same way.

I heard a door click open and a ray of grayish light poured into the hallway. I also had a feeling that Vegas was hiding himself behind the door.

“Here you go.” He handed me the candle. “If you need anything use the intercom and call for me.” He said as I stepped into the room. “I’ll bring you lunch later.”

I suddenly remembered my thank you gift and held it out towards the shadows of the hall. “You take it.” I instructed. “You’re being much to kind to me.” I then quickly tacked on, “Its pie. I made it, so I can’t say if its good or not.”

I heard the paper bag rustle as he opened it up. “What flavor is it?”

I beamed and wanted to go back out into the hallway. “Apple. I learned how to make them when I did a temp job in the bakery at the Market a few weeks ago. I hope you like it.”

“Yes. Thank you.” Vegas chuckled.

I smiled and turned into the dimly lit room, closing the door behind me. Hoping for a miracle, I felt along the wall for a light switch. A single skylight flickered on, but it was so weak it was barely better than the glow of the candlelight. I opened the curtains to my window and stared out at the snowstorm. Everything was white, but at least it allowed more light into the room.

I stared around, only now noticing that all four walls were made up of shelves filled with books, comics, movies, and magazines. I had never seen such a massive collection in person before. All I could do was standing there and stare around.

I then got the courage to actually touch something. I pulled a book from the shelf and flipped it open. I then looked to the pile of blankets and pillows sitting by the door  and laid them out on the rug in the middle of the room.

I then picked me out a stack of books and magazines and curled myself down to read. But all I could do for the longest time was stare off into space and daydream. I was inside the studio, and I couldn’t have been more breath taken. But at the same time I trapped there, almost a prisoner. In a way, I was like a prisoner in a tower. Like Beauty from Beauty and the Beast, my favorite story and fairy tale.

Chapter Three: Life on Mars?

I had fallen asleep while reading, a common side effect for me. Although I was no longer on the big rug in the center of the floor, but lounged up comfortably on the large couch resting under the canopy of a bookshelf. I pushed the thick blanket off the top of me and stared at the clock sitting on the table beside me. It was a little passed five.

I figured Dad wasn’t worried, since I lied and told him I was spending the night at Scout’s house. More than likely he was holed up in his lab and unable to get out because of the storm. I then remembered Vegas and I saw the covered dish sitting on the table right beside the alarm clock. That explained how I ended up on the couch and it made me feel embarrassed but also impressed and flattered. Vegas was either a great gentleman or an even greater pretender.

It was then to my great dismay that I needed to use the bathroom. I had no idea where to begin. So when I blindly made my way out into the hallway I simply prayed for the best. I feel into a long, narrow hallway, but it creped me out so bad I didn’t try to find the door at the end. After a few more minuets of searching I suddenly stumbled into an open door and crashed onto the floor.

“Mackenzie?” Vegas gasped.

“Oh! So sorry.” I grunted as I lifted myself off of the carpet. “I was just…” I held my head. “The bathroom.” I muttered just above barely audible.

Vegas helped lift me up and placed me in a chair. “You okay?” He quickly stepped away from me and back into the shadows.

“Disoriented.” I managed to laugh. “Sorry again for falling into your room like that.” I tried to make out his silhouette in the dark in vain.

“It’s okay. I’m kind of glad you showed up.” I heard him stand up and walk back towards his door. “I had a talk with my brothers and we felt like you shouldn’t be kept in the dark like this.” The way he said you bothered me a little. It was like I was supposed to be in on the secret yet had no idea about it.

“But you said your power was out.” I chuckled nervously.

Vegas laughed softly. “If only it were that simple.” He took a deep breath. “I do hope you have an open mind about things.” He spoke softly and I could hear him moving about in the darkness. “I also pray you don’t scare easy. Here, take my hand.”

I reached up blindly in the darkness, finally touching something solid and warm. But it wasn’t what I was expecting. The palm of his hand was rough, like the calloused heel of a foot. The back of his hand was soft and furry and reminded me of Dee’s old Labrador. I looked up, trying to follow his arm and figure out this strange puzzle.

“Do I have your hand?” I asked, confused.

He half laughed, half sighed. “Yes. You have it.” He said as he helped me ease back up to my feet.

There was a click and fluorescent lights blinded me. I stared between my fingers at the oddly shaped figure standing a few feet before me at his open door.

“I am truly sorry if this bothers you.” Vegas murmured.

As my eyes became accustomed to the light I slowly became aware of the figure standing before me. I noticed that his outline was odd, rather shaggy. I rubbed my eyes, hoping the blur would take a much finer shape.

I became aware of pointed ears, jutting out from where ears normally were but to a length that they surpassed the head like an animal’s. And the shagginess didn’t stop at the head, it was as if his entire body was covered with thick, dark fur. But how could that be? When I saw him in the glow of the candlelight he had a milky white complexion and hair like a sheet if black satin.

I first stared down at the hand I was holding. The rough palm, in fact, looked like the underside of a dog’s paw. And while shaped like any normal hand, it looked like I was holding some Halloween glove for a Wolfman costume. My eyes trailed up the arm, growing wider the further up I stared. There I was, standing before a man-animal. At first, I thought of a werewolf. But the more I looked at him I didn‘t see a horror movie monster. His green eyes were certainly human, more human than even my own. But he was definitely not human. I recoiled and took several steps away. I wasn’t afraid, but I was shocked. His hand hung suspended in midair.

“Sorry. Again.” Vegas whispered, his hand falling back to his side. “If you don’t like it. We can all leave you be until the storm is over and you can leave.”

I suddenly found myself touching his outstretched arm. My hands worked up the shaggy black fur of his arm and onto his face, both my hands pinching his cheeks.

“Am I dreaming?” I muttered breathlessly.

“I believe you pinch yourself when you feel that way.” Vegas chuckled, a little surprised at my reaction.

I pulled my hands back. “Oops!”

Vegas rubbed his face where I had pinched him. “Quite alright.”

“How did this happen to you?” I asked, reaching out again and brushing my fingers through his shaggy, shiny mane. “How come you…“ I hesitated, trying not to think along the lines of horror movies. “Are you circus freaks?” My voice squeaked.

Vegas shook his head glumly. “I wish it were that simple, Mackenzie. But I’m afraid our tale is a bit more complicated.” He shrugged.

“How many more of you are there?” I asked, following Vegas down the now brightened hallway.

Vegas opened a door for me. “Didn’t you need to use the restroom?”

“Um…” I glanced over at him and blushed. “Yeah. I guess I did.”

“I’ll wait out here for you.” He said, turning his head away as I walked into the bathroom. I hurried myself as much as I could, but as I sat there I couldn’t help but feel I recognized Vegas from somewhere. His form, his shape, his eyes all seemed familiar to me.

I then went back out into the hallway and looked up at him, standing like a guard on the left side of the door. “I’m good now.”

He nodded and waved his hand for me to follow.

“So?” I asked again. “How many?”

“Four. My four brothers and me. You kinda met Lexington.” He spoke about the second, much angrier, voice in the hallway last night. “Sorry about him.”

“No need to apologize.” I examined Vegas closer. I now noticed that he wore some straight leg blue jeans and a red vintage tee shirt bearing a classic band’s logo on the front. “I can see why he was…hesitant.”

“Hesitant is a soft word to use for his actions.” Vegas breathed. “Come on, I’ll introduce you to the rest of the family. You woke up in time for dinner.” He hesitated and glanced over my expression. “Only if you want to.”

“I think I owe it to you.” I said brightly. “I’ve seen you, I might as well see the rest of the family secret. After all…” I took a deep breath. “You were brave enough to reveal this to me.”

Vegas smiled. “I knew I was right about you.”

I couldn’t help but smile back.

It was funny how his face worked. While being wolf like in every sense, he had a very human face, especially around the eyes. His eyes were the deepest forest green, like my mother’s and brother’s eyes had been.

He then had a cute little muzzle, not exactly as long as a wolf’s but enough to protrude from his face. If he were bigger and hulked over, he would be exactly as I pictured the Beast from my favorite fairy tale. That’s where I recognized him!

It was then I also noticed his body shape. I suppose it was because I wanted to figure out who the leather-clad biker had been. But Vegas didn’t fit the bill. He had small shoulders and lean, but muscular, arms. He also had a thicker waist and longer legs. I was slightly disappointed.

Vegas glanced over his shoulder at me. “You’re quiet back there.”

“S-sorry! Just lost in thought.” I caught up to Vegas so I walked beside him. I could feel the fur on his arm against my own. Vegas was also quite tall and my head barely cleared his shoulder blade.

Vegas then pushed open a door and allowed me to step in first. The room became intensely quiet. I stared up at two more wolf-like boys. They were sitting at a bar on high stools. One had his back turned toward me and the other was staring wide eyed and worriedly at me.

“Guys, this is Mackenzie.” Vegas patted my back. “She’s going to be staying with us for a while.” He said cheerfully as we walked into the dining room.

I felt suddenly at ease. I raised up my hand and scrunched my fingers down in my cute, signature wave. “Hi. It’s nice to meet you.”

The one who had been staring at me was now grinning and leaping over the bar to greet me. “She likes us!” He was small, about my height, and extremely skinny. Unlike Vegas, he was a reddish brown with a white face, paws, stomach, and feet. He wore a black shirt with a video game logo on it and extremely baggy pajama pants. His tail wagged happily as he ran up to me and his bright hazel eyes sparkled.

“Delivery girl!” He reached his hand out and I took it in my instinctively, suddenly feeling nostalgic in doing so. “I’m so glad to finally meet ya in person!” His thin arms then wrapped around me and squeezed me tightly. He smelled like chocolate and his fur was so soft. He then pulled away and gave me a big, toothy grin. “I’m Dakota by the way. I guess I should introduce myself before I go around hugging people.” He laughed.

“Make that a note next time you go out.” I chuckled with him, feeling extremely welcomed by the cub of the pack.

I then glanced up over Dakota’s shoulder to see the third wolf approach. He was slightly taller than me, the top of my head could easily reach the bottom of his chin. He was a peppered gray with a white muzzle, a black paw and a white paw, then both feet were black. He wore glasses before his narrow, sky blue eyes. His mane was thicker around his face than Dakota’s and Vegas’. His hands were also larger even though he had about as skinny arms as Dakota. He had a shapely rear though and well toned legs. I also noticed he wore a button up blue polo shirt and tan cargo pants with bulging pockets.

He smiled politely and held his white paw out to me. “I’m glad you’re here. I’m Raleigh.”

I managed to pull my hands away from the gleeful Dakota to shake Raleigh’s thick hand. “It’s nice to meet you. Thank you for having me.”

“We should be thanking you.” Raleigh smiled at me with a wise glint in his eyes.

“Yeah! You bring us our supplies every week. I don’t know what I’d do with out my weekly game dosage.” Dakota cheered. “Doc was right about the Market.”

“Doc?” I was about to question but Vegas cut in.

“Yeah, before the Market we used to have to order from fifty other places and the shipping was eating up all our monthly funds.” Vegas then cut a glare at Dakota who had latched hold on my hand again. “Especially those video games and anime cartoons you love so much.”

Dakota shrunk back behind me. “I know, I know.” He sighed pathetically. “Crack would be a cheaper addiction, but my body is a sacred temple.”

“So you’re the gamer.” I asked as I joined them at the bar. “My best friend Scout works in the entertainment section of the Market and she’s a huge gamer as well. Every game I’ve delivered to you she’s gotten herself.”

Dakota’s already bright eyes got even brighter and wider. “Really?” He squirmed in his seat. “I just got the new Vampire Hunter X game and I’m almost half way through.”

“I don’t get what’s so great about video games.” Raleigh sighed. “I keep telling him he can get just as much fun and excitement if head read something other than strategy guides and comic books.”

I knew who always ordered the books. “So then I take it you’re the one who orders the brunt of most of the heavy novels that have been breaking my back.” I chuckled, thinking to the previous package and how I needed the special dolly to deliver it. “The real intelligent gent?”

Raleigh sighed and took off his glasses. “Someone has to be.” He had a twinkle in his eyes as he spoke. “I guess I need to apologize for that as well. I suppose I could order the paperbacks and be a little more gentler on you. But the hardbacks just last so much longer.”

There was a familiar buzzing that rang out through the house and the boys lifted their heads in anticipation. Vegas stood up from the bar.

“That’s probably the pizza.” He said. “I’ll be right back.” As he walked towards the door he stopped at the door and scanned the sheet of pockets that hung there and plucked what looked like a checkbook from one of the many pockets.

“Are the roads clear?” I asked.

“Not really.” Dakota hummed. “But we have connections. We get whatever we want whenever we want it.” He said, grinning proudly.

“Don’t worry, Mac, we aren’t holding you here against your will. You can go whenever you want.” Raleigh said in a very serious tone. “But I wouldn’t recommended it right now.”

I smiled and shook my head. “I wasn’t thinking that. It was just surprising to me that pizza would actually deliver in ice age weather.”

Raleigh cleared his throat then removed his glasses and rubbed at the lenses with the hem of his shirt. “Oh, um, well, I was just letting you know.”

“Yeah!” Dakota chimed. “Mac probably doesn’t even wanna leave.” He grinned over at me. “Right?”

In all honesty, I did want to go home. I was really worried about Dad. But I couldn‘t tell that to Dakota, it‘d probably break his heart. “Probably not for a while.”

“Here’s the grub.” Vegas said, hauling in six pizzas, three boxes of breadsticks, and two dessert pizzas.

I stared in awe at the massive amount of pizza. “Do you always eat all this?” I gasped, staring at Dakota for the answer.

“Naw!” Dakota laughed. “We got this one for you.” He placed a whole pizza in front of me.

“I can’t eat all that.” I murmured apologetically, staring at the box.

“Really?” Dakota stared at me in disbelief. “I guess you were right Raleigh. Women really are more delicate.”

Raleigh tensed up and I’m sure if the fur wasn’t covering his cheeks they’d be bright red. “Dakota, just shut up.” He huffed and hid himself behind his box of pizza.

I smiled meekly. “Thank you very much for this. I really do appreciate the thought. You can have what I don’t eat.”

Dakota grinned another toothy grin, cheese stringing down from his jowls to the slice in his hand. “Okay!”

“What about Lex?” Raleigh asked.

“If he wants to eat he can join us.” Vegas growled.

I furrowed my brow and sat down the piece of pizza I had been chewing on. “Am I causing some sort of trouble I should know about?”

“Huh?” Raleigh gasped. “Oh no, you’re fine. It’s our other brother, Lexington. He’s being a complete jerk as usual.”

“The correct term is ass hole.” Dakota said between bites.

Vegas leered harshly down at his pizza. “He’s the one being a problem. He says that he doesn’t want you here. He wants us to make to make you leave.”

“Does he know I’m not bothered?” I asked. “I think you’re all fine! When you said all those things earlier, Vegas, I thought the worst. Like you were a coven of famous serial killers or something.”

All three of them snickered and Dakota went into a fit of high-pitched giggles. He had to drop his pizza and control a spasm of hiccups.

“Do you mind my asking why our appearance doesn’t offend you?” Raleigh asked, politely.

I shrugged, slightly embarrassed to give my answer. “Growing up I was obsessed with Beauty and the Beast.” I laughed, avoiding all of their reactions. “I know that may seem extremely silly but I think that might be the main reason.” I glanced up at each of their interested looks. I smiled meekly. “But I doubt that falling in love with you would undo this.” I meant his as a joke, but I had the sudden pain that said it was much more serious than that.To them, it actually meant something.

“So…” I muttered quietly and put on a forced smile. “That’s my silly reason.”

“I see.” Raleigh nodded.

After that, the rest of dinner was extremely quiet. I only ate three pieces of pizza and let the others pick at it. When all was said and done Dakota dragged to his room, which reminded me of how I last saw Scout’s room. There was a bunk bed against the wall with the door and across from it a huge entertainment system with a wide screen TV, several game systems, a DVD player and a fancy music system. Then, on a desk put right up to the bottom bunk was a laptop, speakers, and several game controllers. His walls were painted red and covered with movie posters, magazine clippings, and photographs. His floor was littered with his clothes, trash, and dirty dishes.

He had what I thought was a closet in the farthest corner of the room, but when he opened it up I was surprised to see row upon row of video games and cartoon show DVDs. I found myself thinking how completely opposite this home was from my very own, and I was surprised to be extremely jealous.

“Whoa.” I mouthed, staring up into the store like assortment.

“Yeah I know.” Dakota giggled. “Do you have a preference?” He asked. Then, upon seeing my confused stare, grinned. “What kind of games do you like?”

“Uh…Mrs. Pac-Man?” I muttered.

Dakota scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Fine. We’ll play this one.” He waved a fighter game before me then popped into the corresponding gaming system.

We played that for a few hours until Dakota started yawning loudly. He switched out the game for a cartoon and he curled up beside me on the bed. He fell asleep halfway through the movie, his head resting in my lap and my hand stroking his fur.

When I was sure he was dead asleep I moved him off my lap and covered him up. I turned off all his appliances and lights then exited the room quietly.

“Dakota asleep?” I heard Raleigh call from across the hall. His room was opposite of Dakota’s and I could look into his room as I turned around.

“Out like a light.” I chuckled. I leaned in his doorway and stared around at all the books. It was a little bit bigger than Dee’s own boxed collection. He had two walls of bookshelves, but they went from floor to ceiling and there were several smaller bookshelves cradled into corners. His walls were blue and he had a futon bed positioned between two corner shelves. He had a door on one of the clear walls that was cracked open and I could barely see his neatly organized closet inside.

“The radio said the storm is probably going to last another two or three days.” Raleigh said, looking at the radio sitting by his bed. “Do you think you’ll be fine staying here for that long?” He removed his glasses and sat them on his side table.

I could see the worry in Raleigh’s eyes and it reminded me of my father. “I’ll be fine.” I folded my arms across my chest. “It’s my dad I’m worried about.”

“Well…the phone lines are down. But I do believe Vegas has gone to leave your father a note.” Raleigh murmured.

“What?” I gasped, early tripping over thin air. “He’s gone to my house?”

“Yeah.” Raleigh seemed uncomfortable, like he had just released top-secret information. “He was worried about your father too. I mean, with you not being at the house and all.”

“Oh.” I bit my lip. “That was nice of him to worry.”

“Well, in my opinion, I think he likes having someone other than the rest of us to worry about.” Raleigh said as he stood up and walked towards me at the door. “We’ve been alone in this house for about six years.” He smiled. “I guess we just got boring to him.”

I nodded. “I suppose that it would get boring for anybody for that long.” I glanced over my shoulder, thinking I heard something moving at the end of the hallway. “Where did you guys move from?” I asked, looking back up at Raleigh.

“Somewhere…” He hesitated and looked away for a moment. “Somewhere very unpleasant.”

“Oh.”

“No.” He defended. “Don’t think that we don’t want you to know. I think you should know everything. But for now Vegas wants to give you time. It’s hard to explain. But trust us.”

“No. It’s okay. I owe you guys big time. No need to explain to me.” I chuckled. “I mean, yes, I would love to know. But it understand that it must be a hard thing to talk about. You guys took a big risk even showing yourselves to me.”

Raleigh smiled softly. “Do you know what an amazing person you are?” He asked. “For some reason, it’s easy around you.”

I wanted to ask him about what he meant but his head jerked upward and looked down the hallway.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Someone is home.” He muttered then looked back down at me. “Anyways, I need to get to bed.” He laughed. “If I don’t get more than eight hours of sleep I become psychotic.” His smile then faded. “Not that I don’t like talking to you!”

I shook my head. “It‘s okay. I’m gonna head on to bed too.” I reached out and patted his arm. “Good night.” I chuckled and walked down the hall.

“Good night.” I heard Raleigh echo as I made my way down the hallway.

As I passed the kitchen I heard someone moving about. I, of course, thought it was Vegas. I popped into the kitchen and sat at the bar casually. There was a box of pizza sitting open on the counter along with a glass filled with ice. I looked to the fridge, but I couldn’t see Vegas from the open door and the bright lights inside.

“Hey Vegas.” I called to him, making my presence known. “Raleigh told me you went to my house to give my dad a letter.” I said and looked at the open box of pizza, remembering Vegas had eaten a whole one plus half of mine then a box of breadsticks and half a desert pizza as well. “You didn’t need to do that.”

The fridge door closed and the wolf that stood before me was russet colored and much bigger. My jaw dropped and my breath caught inside my throat. There was no doubt in my mind that the wolf before me was the infamous Lexington.

His silver eyes narrowed upon me and he didn’t move from his spot before the fridge. I was welded to the spot as well. I felt terrified, remembering what the others had been saying during dinner. He was certainly intimidating by appearance alone.

I swallowed my heart back down into my chest and gasped for air. “H-hi there.” Which was perhaps the stupidest thing to say at this moment. I wanted tog et up and run away, but I felt that if I did, it would only make my situation worse.

Lexington was even taller than Vegas and stronger built to boot. He had broad shoulders and thick arms to match. His chest heaved in anger and his lips curled up over his fangs. His fur was a rusty brown and grew longer and wilder against the back of his head. His ears were longer too and jutted out like daggers from his head. He wore no shirt over his muscular chest but he wore a pair of ripped and faded blue jeans that smelled strongly of grease and gasoline.

I managed to catch my breath from the shock and I cleared my throat. “H-hi!” I sputtered out again. “I’m Mackenzie. You must be…” I hesitated, watching as he closed the fridge and push passed me like I was a spider dangling from the ceiling.

“Y-you’re Lexington, right?” I asked after him.

He turned and looked down at me from the other side of the island. I could see the contempt in his eyes as he leered at me. He tossed his head to the side and reached over the countertop of the island, lifting up the box of pizza. As he leaned over the island I noticed how slim his waist was and how long his legs were. I stared up at him as he sat upright again. Our eyes met and he stopped suddenly.

His eyes looked like mirrors, reflecting everything in their silvery surface. I couldn’t look away, knowing his gaze was meant to terrify me to my core.

“What the hell are you doing here?” He snarled.

“I-I was…the storm…” I stuttered.

“I meant here in the kitchen.” He snarled, ripping his teeth through the pizza like he wanted me to think he would do the same to me.

“Oh! Um…I thought you were Vegas and…” I swallowed. “I don’t know.” I muttered apologetically. As I said this he got up and moved towards the cupboards behind me.

“But I feel like if I leave I’ll, well, I’ll stay on your bad side.” I looked up at him, his back turned to me. “And I’d like to be your friend.”

Lexington turned back around and rolled his eyes at me. He pointed a long finger in my face. “You don’t belong here. You shouldn’t have even been allowed through the front door!” He barked and grabbed onto my arm.

“Hey!” I half screamed. “Let go of me.” I struggled against his strong hand.

Lex’s eyes flashed and he lowered his head slightly, talking to me in a low, almost sad, voice. “No one like you should be here. You don’t deserve this kind of punish…”

“Lex!” Vegas roared.

Lexington dropped his hand and leered up at Vegas. I jumped back a pace closer to Vegas and looked up at him cautiously then back up at Lex. His face had changed, his ears slicked back, a smirk curled his lips. He had started putting on his airs.

Lexington sneered sarcastically. “Well, well, well…” He hissed. “If it isn’t our fearless leader.” He stood so that he blocked Vegas and I from one another’s sight’s.

“Don’t you dare talk to Mackenzie like that.” Vegas snarled. “She hasn’t done anything to you.”

“Ha!” Lexington scoffed. “Yet.” He scowled down at me as he skulked out of the room. He shoved Vegas out of his way so hard I was worried for a moment.

Vegas turned back to me and stared at me apologetically. “I am so sorry about him. He didn’t say anything to you did he?”

I didn’t have to heart to tell Vegas that he did say something. Just before Vegas had interrupted him, it sounded as if Lexington was about to say: “You don’t deserve this kind of punishment.” I suddenly felt sorry for Lexington. Out of all four of the wolf-boys, I had a feeling the affliction hurt Lexington the most.

“No.” I murmured. “Nothing that was worth getting upset over anyways.”

Vegas nodded and forced a smile. “That’s good, I guess. Just don’t pay any attention to him.”

“Okay.” I nodded. “But, I don’t blame him for being defensive.”

Vegas frowned, a quizzical look to his eyes. “You don’t?”

I shrugged. “Isn’t it obvious?”

Vegas shook his head and faked a laugh. “Guess not.” He turned. “Well, I’m going to bed. So…” He hesitated, watching me with his overly human eyes. “Good night.” He muttered and walked off.

“G’night.” I answered and looked around the kitchen before I went off to my own corner of the studio.

[sabrinahawthorne]

CLASH! Playtest Campaign Diary, April 14, 2024

Preamble 1: CLASH! is currently crowdfunding! If you're interested in supporting my work, check it out here.

Preamble 2: Truth be told, I'm bragging here. I don't usually do campaign diaries; but this session was special. I'd just finished a huge rework of the system, and I was terrified about whether it'd work as intended, or if I'd need to go back to the drawing board and further delay development. I needn't have worried; we played an episode of anime.

It's time for the first official round of the Battle of the Bands. After qualifying against DJ twins Oskaar and Byrna, classic rock & roll band Nail in the Coffin is up for their first real opponent; TOEJAM, noise music duo and technical masters.

Kenshin (The Analyst), the protege of the band's missing sponsor Ian Sachs, needs to win big to follow the clues about his missing teacher. Princess Moonbeam (The Specialist), frontwoman and mysterious European weirdo, has just been informed that her favorite glam-rock band, Xenon, will be performing in town in a few days. She needs to look good if she's going to impress her idols. And Kit Tripod (The Vessel), the band's drummer, knows that winning this contest means an official meeting with Beatrice Boxer - the woman she thinks killed her father.

The battle begins without much unusual; two Contests, one win and one loss for an even score of 1-1 against TOEJAM. It's at this point that Kit's player remembers to play with the new rules and activates a Tech: Shadow on the Wall.

Raising her drumsticks above her head, TOEJAM's guitarist momentarily thinks that he sees the image of a fiend - Tom Snare, the Demon of Drums, glimpsed through stage lights. The guitarist gains the Hopeless Condition, hampering his ability to gain Potential.

With this, the floodgates open. Kenshin opens his next turn with Look Out!, giving Moonbeam useful intel on the duo for her next turn.

Meanwhile, his own turn goes to a CLASH!, Insight versus Insight, against TOEJAM's masterful DJ. Everyone at the table stands up and cheers as his four dice come up with two 6's, while the DJ's five dice land with only one.

With one uneventful turn on the part of Kit, it's 2-2. Whoever wins the next Contest goes on to the next round of the Battle of the Bands, and it's Princess Moonbeam's turn.

The Bidding phase begins slowly; tension filling the room. Moonbeam has five Insight, but no other Pool to speak of. If she lets it slip, she's doomed against the Powerhouse DJ. But we know that TOEJAM has almost no Potential left; they don't have much bluffing power.

Moonbeam ups her bid. At the table, the GM looks at her player thoughtfully.

The DJ activates his Super.

We start to get excited; having spent all of his Potential, the DJ is left with four Force dice against Moonbeam's five Insight and 2 Potential, which she turns into 4 more dice.

We all hold our breath as the DJ makes his roll - one 6. There's a breath of relief at the table - we can do this. We just need a single 6 from a pool of nine dice.

Then, Moonbeam rolls.

No 6's. Not a single one from her entire pool.

It is dead silent at the table. We just lost our first fight. We just lost our first fight, and it got us disqualified us from the Battle of the Bands. Everyone is flabbergasted.

How could this happen? How did Nail in the Coffin lose in their second match? How will Kit get to Beatrice Boxer now? Will Princess Moonbeam embarrass herself in front of her favorite band? And where is Ian Sachs?

Find out next time, on Battle of the Bands!

It was honestly perfect. We knew the stakes of the fight;

Every character had a clear goal, and a lot of drive to achieve it;

And at the end of the day? We lost the tournament arc.

Because of course we did! The heroes can never win the tournament - they have to learn from their losses and find a new way to chase their dreams.

[jokerislandgirl32]

hey! I was just wondering about Zach and Violet’s engagement. Who proposed and how?

Hi!!! Thank you so much for this question! I’m going to let Zach answer this one! This answer technically has two parts, so I’ll post part 1 here, and I’ll tag you in part 2 as soon as I finish it!

TW for mentions of pregnancy, morning sickness/vomiting (it’s not explicitly described, but it’s mentioned a few times). Please do not proceed further if this is a trigger for you.

Zach’s Response

Well, we technically have 2 proposals…and I proposed both times. The first time was March 16st, 2014. Violet and I had just found out we were pregnant with Alexandria, and I wanted to ensure the safety and security of Violet and the baby if anything were to happen to me.

I had been planning to propose to Violet for a while, I’d made a ring for her and had it hidden in my closet, waiting for the right time to propose. I tentatively planned to propose to her on her 23rd birthday, on April 22nd, 2014.

But one unexpected, high-risk pregnancy later, and I knew it could not wait. I wanted to propose to her, I wanted to marry her, I wanted to take care of Violet and the baby, I wanted to properly start our lives together. So, I knew the first step was proposing.

I was an absolute mess when I proposed. I wanted to make the moment so romantic and special, but I panicked…I just had to do it. So, I walked into the closet, pulled the ring out…and walked into our master bathroom…where Violet was experiencing a horrible bout of morning sickness.

I should have just walked out, left her alone and waited until she was feeling better, but she looked up at me from her curled position on the floor by the toilet and saw the triangular ring box I’d fashioned for the ring.

“Zach? What’s that?” She croaked, shakily pulling herself into a sitting position.

I tried to hide the box behind me, nervousness creeping into my voice, “I…uhhh, it’s nothing…”

Violet started becoming annoyed with me: “Zach…I can see it, if I can see it that means it’s not ‘nothing,’ what is it?”

I hesitantly pulled the box out from behind me, and I lowered myself to the bathroom floor in front of her on one knee, “I wanted this to be perfect…But…I can’t wait…I wanna take care of you, I wanna take care of our baby…I wanna be with you forever…”

Violet was staring at me with tears in her eyes and her mouth dropped open as I opened the box and said, “Violet Virginia Tyler, will you marry me?”

Violet couldn’t get any words out for a moment, she just started crying and looked between my face and the ring. She finally choked out, “yes, of course I’ll marry you, Zach! Ohhhh, I’ve dreamed of this for so long, Zach! Yes, yes, a thousand times yes! I love you, so much!”

I shakily pulled out the ring and slipped it onto her finger, then she threw her arms around me in a tight hug. She cried and mumbled about how much she loved me against my chest as I stroked her hair, crying into her shoulder, professing my love for her, too.

We remain like this until…well…she became sick again. She pulled away from me and I had to fight the urge not to become ill myself, but I refused to leave her in that moment. I just rubbed her back, and we waited for it to pass.

After she finished being ill she looked at me with a weary expression, “Zach, I’m so happy, please don’t take this the wrong way, but…couldn’t you have waited until I was done being sick…”

I smirked at her, cupping her chin in my hand, “you’re sick all day, if I waited I would never have proposed.”

Violet snorted, “well, that’s true, we wouldn’t want that, and honestly, I don’t care…we’re engaged, we’re gonna get married, we’re having a baby, we’re gonna be a family, and I couldn’t be happier.”

Part 2 Coming Soon

[orphiclovers]

How many times have you read the novel 😳 (you post so many screenshots of quotes. Consistently too)

Haha, it's not an impressive number. Maybe it will surprise you?

I first read the webtoon in 2021 until whichever was the latest chapter at that point. Then I couldn't wait for the next update, I NEEDED to know what happened next so I found the epub on reddit and read it (lol) from the place I left off.

I don't actually remember how far I got. I must have reached at least chapter 363, since that is when the names changed with the new translator and I remembered it REALLY bothered me (there must have not been a version with the OG names back then, or I just hadn't found it).

The arc I was on must have bored me, because I think I did something VERY uncharacteristic of myself - skipped ahead in the chapters. I NEVER do this, I'm a very chronological reader - I never even skim text, I always read every sentence from beginning to end, only for some reason not this one time (I blame the name change making it difficult for me.)

I had seen the cover art of YJH chained up by white coat wearing Han Sooyoung and Kim Dokja and I had heard that yoohankim was a major ship and that Han Sooyoung was the third main character, only in the arc I was on I saw none of that. So I made a huge mistake and looked up spoilers online, to see when Han Sooyoung became an important character, and accidentally spoiled myself on Secretive Plotter's identity (since I read a summary of the 1863 arc)

Then I have a distinct memory of reading the beach episode chapter 454, and being instantly turned off and thinking 'ugh, and I thought I had finally found a novel that didn't put boring fluff but was tense and action all the time". Very Kim Dokja of me. (yes, I know now giving characters a respite was the point of that arc. If i had read one chapter further, I would have seen they went back to action almost immediately. But I didn't read further.)

On top of that, I saw a spoiler online that said that 'orv has the it was all just a dream ending' and that was the last straw and I dropped it (ugh)

Then in the next couple of years I managed to forget every single character and plot point of ORV.

Went back to read the webtoon, arrived at the latest chapter, couldn't wait until the next update, downloaded the epub from reddit, started reading it from where the webtoon left off, you see the pattern. This time I finished it in 4 days I think. That was April 1st, when I posted my first orvpost on tumblr. I had basically forgotten absolutely everything, even how far I got originally, but had a sense of deja vu up until the very last chapter.

Now, I've been on a very very slow, technically 2nd but I consider it my first reread. Except I've never actually read the first 100 chapters and am constantly shocked and amazed at how good they are.

So, technically, I haven't actually read all of orv yet😅. But also am on my 3rd read?