#they mustn’t give everything an upgrade

[probablygayattorneys]

He’s such a sad mad

Haunted by ghosts who are still alive and dead alike

I just want to hug him tight and never let go and tell him it’ll be okay

That he is strong now

That Bradley loved him and even if he betrayed him the love was still there and that matters

That his dad is resting in peace

That his mom can take can of herself

That Mila and Rachel have each other and are more than capable and he doesn’t have to be superman all the time

That I’ll never let Nintendo do to him what they did to Ashley

[slasherhaven]

Bo Sinclair X Reader

Part 1, Part 2

I've been enjoying some Soft!Bo recently, so here's some more!

Soulmate AU: shared pain and shared scars part 3:

Time passed since you first stepped into Ambrose, only a few weeks since you ended up meeting your soulmate in the most unlikely place and getting stranded in the small town. You told yourself you were stranded, tried to convince yourself of that, but it wasn't completely true. Now you thought that even if you got the chance to escape, you wouldn't. You wouldn't leave and if you did...you would probably end up being drawn right back to Ambrose.

Weeks passed. You mourned. You still found yourself saddened by Carly's death, but you had come to terms with everything that had happened. Bo had, in an act of kindness you supposed, demanded that Vincent didn't use any member of your group to create new wax figures. You were supposed to be at home in this town, you didn't need a constant morbid reminder of your past.

Of a night, you had been staying in Bo's room while he slept on the couch. Surprisingly, he had insisted on it. Despite you being his soulmate and practically being destined forgive him, he supposed he should try to make it easier for you. He just hoped it wouldn't take too much longer, the couch wasn't as comfortable as his bed.

The events from your arrival had settled and the town seemed to fall into it's more day to day routine. You had gotten to know Vincent and Lester a little better, but you found yourself more comfortable around Bo, which made sense even if it wasn't logical to an outsider.

Despite spending more time around Bo than the other brothers, you surprisingly didn't talk much. Neither of you really knowing what to say. You wanted to be around him instinctively but didn't know what to say to the man who killed your friends, or even if you wanted to say anything at all.

Today went by as usual, you spending the day down in the garage with Bo, eating lunch and dinner with him, and awkwardly sitting on the couch in front of the brother's little television. Sitting on opposite ends of the couch, occasionally risking glances at him.

You had excused yourself and gone up to bed, changing into one of Bo's tee-shirts. You didn't exactly have a wide selection of clothes just yet but did you have other options of sleepwear? Yes, you did. Still, you chose to wear Bo's tee-shirt. You found it comforting.

Unsurprisingly, you hadn't been sleeping well. It took a few nights for you to get a good few hours of sleep but you were sure that your sleeping had actually become more disturbed than it had been. The bed was comfortable, and smelled of Bo, but you still found yourself tossing and turning, feeling like something was missing.

It was something you had been debating for the last few nights but always talked yourself out of it. Tonight though...you had decided to take the risk. You knew you would end up doing it eventually anyway.

Pushing back the sheets, you climbed off of the bed and exited the bedroom.

When you had arrived, the house had been untidy but you had fixed that during your stay. You had to fill your time with something and it helped make you feel more comfortable. So, now, you didn't feel too worried about walking around barefoot.

You made your way down the stairs and quietly into the living room. Bo mustn't have heard you since he was still sitting with his feet up on the coffee table, eyes on the television, with his temporary bedding piled beside him.

"Bo?" you asked quietly and he instantly turned to you. Under different circumstances, you might have found it amusing that you had surprised him.

His gaze scanned your body, wetting his lips at the sight of you in one of his tee-shirts. "You alright, darlin'?" he had never been shy about pet-names, always calling you by them. You didn't mind. You liked it.

"Can't sleep" you mumbled, wrapping your arms around yourself.

"Wanna sit with me?" he asked and you nodded without having to think about it.

He gave you his signature charming smirk. "C'mon then" he patted the space beside him and you walked over to him.

Bo lifted his arm, laying it over the back of the couch as you sat down beside him, his arm behind you. Some old film was on the television, you had no idea what, but you didn't mind. Bo didn't seem very interested in it either.

"You got any idea what's going on in this?" Bo asked, gesturing towards the television, you just shook your head. "Need better fucking stations" he muttered to himself, making you smile a little in amusement.

"Or you could upgrade from VHS...maybe get a DVD player" you mused. "Do they even sell VHS's anymore?" you asked with a small chuckle, earning a smile from Bo.

"Guess we'll have to save up for your fancy technology" Bo teased, proud of himself when you laughed.

"I think I can deal with it" you shrugged before, not so subtly despite your best efforts, shifting closer to him.

"Good" Bo hummed, his arm lowering from the back of the couch to wrap around your shoulders and pull you closer. You allowed him, resting your head against his shoulder.

The two of you fell silent as you watched the screen, not really taking anything in. Risking your glances at Bo once again, the hand that lay lazily in his lap caught your attention. He was wearing a tee-shirt, ready for bed, leaving his wrist visible.

Gently, you reached out and took his hand in yours, your other hand tracing his scars. "Will you tell me about them now?" you asked quietly, watching your fingertips trace his scars.

"Ain't much of a story" Bo shrugged, watching your expression of concentration.

"I'd still like to hear it. Been wondering since my childhood" you confessed.

"Me and Vincent were very different kids. He was well-behaved and quiet, me...not so much. I got angry, I'd shout, throw tantrums, parents had to restrain me at the dinner table sometimes. I'd try to get out, fucking up my wrists" Bo explained, finding the repetitive touches to his scarring strangely relaxing. It wasn't something he usually liked to have on show, but he knew he could be vulnerable with you.

"That's horrible...I'm sorry" you frowned, meeting his gaze with nothing but sympathy in your eyes.

"Eh, had to do what they had to do" he shrugged dismissively. Surely, he should be apologising to you if anything.

"You did what any kid with behavioural problems does, they should have handled it much differently" you shook your head, brow furrowing in frustration. Who would treat their child like that?

“Ain’t a big deal” he shrugged again. You could already tell that he didn't like talking about this sort of thing and you found yourself hoping he would begin to grow more comfortable with opening up to you.

“Come on, Bo…if you can’t talk to me, who can you talk too?” you asked with a small but sincere smile. You were his soulmate after all. “I know it hurt, I felt it, remember? At least when the pain started for me, I had someone there to calm me and help me. I can’t imagine how distressing it would have been…” your smile quickly faded, expression turning to sympathetic as you squeezed his hand gently.

There was a short silence, Bo not looking at you, and you decided that if he didn't talk, you wouldn't push it further. “It hurt” Bo finally spoke, clearing his throat. “Each time the restraints would get tighter, ‘least that’s how it felt. The more I struggled the more it hurt, but the more it hurt the more I struggled. Just wanted to get out of the damn chair” he told you shortly, sighing as your thumb brushed over the inside of his wrist. And then he looked at you properly, “for what it's worth, I’m sorry you had to feel that too…and everything else.”

“You don’t need to apologise. I was never angry with you for the pain, just angry with those hurting you” you confessed.

Bo smirked a little at the anger in your expression. The hand that you held onto moved, gently grasping one of your wrists as he brushed his thumb over the matching scarring. "Hey, don't you start worrying about me, alright?"

"I'm not allowed to care?" you asked, suddenly hit with the realisation that you did care. You cared a whole lot about this man.

"...you want to care? You go ahead and care, darlin'" he nodded, giving his permission, making you smile.

"Good...because I will, even if you don't want me too" you told him, knowing that now. Accepting that.

"Beginning to think you're warming up to me" Bo hummed, the hand on your shoulder stroking up and down your arm.

"Don't ruin it" you rolled your eyes but still moved closer to him, naturally draping an arm around his waist and laying your head against his chest. "I wanted to ask you something" you spoke quietly after a short pause in conversation.

"Shoot" Bo looked down at you, his hold around you tightening ever so slightly.

"Was wondering if you...wanted to sleep in the bed, maybe, with me tonight?" you glanced down at your lap. You shouldn't have been embarrassed, he was your soulmate, but circumstances were more than unusual. "Don't like sleeping alone...it never used to bother me" you confessed.

"Can't complain about getting back in my own bed" Bo mused before hooking a finger under your chin, lifting your head and making you look at him. "All you had to do was ask, darlin'" he assured you.

The way he looked at you, the intensity of his gaze, made heat rise to your face, but it still earned a smile from you. "Just sleeping, though" you added, not wanting him to get any ideas.

"Just sleeping. I swear" Bo chuckled lowly, the sound vibrating in his chest. It was a nice sound.

"Thank you" you whispered, breath catching in your throat when you realised how close your faces were now.

Bo noticed how you gaze flickered down to his lips before meeting his eyes again, cheeks darkening with a flush. He hadn't been subtle despite putting effort into making you comfortable, you had often caught him staring and he'd only smirk when you caught him looking at you.

Bo didn't seem like the type of guy to sit back until somebody else made a move, he seemed like an initiator type, but you knew that he wasn't going to play into that role right now. You had just talked to him properly, invited him back into his bed. He could be impulsive but he wasn't stupid, he wouldn't risk scaring you away right now.

You had no idea where you got the confidence from, or maybe it was just the innate gravitational pull you felt towards him, but you started leaning in. Eyes fluttered shut as your lips brushed against his.

That seemed to be enough to reassure Bo that you wouldn't run away as he fully closed the space, pressing his lips further against yours in a proper kiss. One that you instantly returned.

You couldn't help yourself, arms looping around his neck as you lent into his chest. Strong arms circling your waist and pulling you closer, practically onto his lap. His kiss, his touch, his mere presence, lit a fire in you. The like of which you had never experienced before. In that moment it truly felt like you were the only two people who existed. Two people colliding in an unlikely little town.

And, in that moment, you knew. Monster or not, soulmate or not, you were supposed to be right here with Bo. It didn't matter if the universe had a sick idea of fate, the past didn't matter, only now mattered. Only him and only you. Finally, you accepted the truth you had been resisting for so many days.

He was yours and, more importantly, you were his.

[fific7]

Ticket to Ride - Part 1

Billy Russo x Reader

A/N: Inspired by The Beatles song of the same name. This takes place in my S1 Punisher AU with Arrogant!Billy in attendance. Billy gets a taste of his own medicine.

Warnings: 18+ NSFW due to sexual content, including oral, between consenting adults* in some chapters. Drinking and swearing.

*Irl, please don’t go wild in the country without protection.

(My photo edit)

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

𝕀 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕜 𝕀'𝕞 𝕘𝕠𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕠 𝕓𝕖 𝕤𝕒𝕕, 𝕀 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕜 𝕚𝕥'𝕤 𝕥𝕠𝕕𝕒𝕪, 𝕪𝕖𝕒𝕙

𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕘𝕚𝕣𝕝 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥'𝕤 𝕕𝕣𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕞𝕖 𝕞𝕒𝕕 𝕚𝕤 𝕘𝕠𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕒𝕨𝕒𝕪

𝕊𝕙𝕖'𝕤 𝕘𝕠𝕥 𝕒 𝕥𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕠 𝕣𝕚𝕕𝕖

𝕊𝕙𝕖'𝕤 𝕘𝕠𝕥 𝕒 𝕥𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕠 𝕣𝕚𝕕𝕖

𝕊𝕙𝕖'𝕤 𝕘𝕠𝕥 𝕒 𝕥𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕠 𝕣𝕚𝕕𝕖 𝕓𝕦𝕥 𝕤𝕙𝕖 𝕕𝕠𝕟'𝕥 𝕔𝕒𝕣𝕖

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

You were grabbing armfuls of clothes out of the wardrobe and dumping them into the three massive suitcases you’d laid open on the floor. If any of your friends had seen you at that point, they’d have said you looked like a woman possessed.

Finally, the wardrobe was empty of your clothes, and you moved on to the chest of drawers and then the bathroom. The contents were shovelled into a couple of large backpacks, as were various other bits and bobs from bedside table drawers and shelving units. In a surprisingly short space of time, you’d packed up everything that belonged to you in this damned apartment.

That left you just two very quick things to do, and you could then somehow get all this luggage downstairs into the lobby and get the hell out of Dodge.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

The receptionist at the airport hotel you were booking into looked at the amount of luggage you had with you, and studied your face again carefully. No doubt she was wondering if you were a celebrity. Obviously deciding that there was an outside chance that you were but she just hadn��t recognised you, you were given an upgrade on the room without even asking for one.

Plopping down onto the bed once you’d got into your room, you rummaged around in one of the backpacks until you found your laptop, connecting it to the hotel WiFi. Opening one of the major airlines’ websites, you began scrolling through the destinations offered from JFK.

So many to choose from!

Now to plan your getaway.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Billy Russo got back home really late. He was going to be in trouble, no doubt about it... he hadn’t even texted because he hadn’t wanted to face any questions about what he was doing and when he’d be home.

Opening the apartment door, he was surprised to find it in darkness. Oh... had she gone to bed already? That wasn’t a good sign. He switched on the lights and immediately noticed a sheet of paper and a photo frame lying prominently on the kitchen island.

Walking over, he didn’t even have to pick up the note to read it. There was only one word, printed large.

“Goodbye.”

His stomach knotted and then he looked at the photo frame lying next to it. The photo was the one which was usually on the bedside table, a favourite of his.... she was sitting on a bar stool and he was behind her, his arms right around her. Both laughing into the lens as the photo was taken.

The photo was still in the frame, but it was torn in two.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Finally, by the next morning you’d decided on London. You’d never been, and quite honestly wanted to lose yourself in another big city. Flight booked, an AirBnB apartment booked for two weeks and you didn’t need a visa, so you were all set.

Now just one more thing to do. You opened up the box containing your new mobile phone and fitted the SIM card into it. After about twenty minutes of entering contact details and various apps onto it, you took your original phone and called Karen.

Her bored voice answered so you knew she was already at work, but she perked up when she heard your voice.

“Hi honey! How’re things? Wanna meet up for lunch today? I’m bored and I need a good gossip.”

You were a freelance copy writer and so you were your own boss. There were one or two assignments you were currently working on, but you could work from anywhere you could get a WiFi connection, so that wasn’t a problem.

“Uhhh, sadly not darling, I’m flying to London this afternoon.” You could hear her intake of breath, then she squealed, “Oh you lucky woman, how’d you manage to land an assignment like that?”

You gave a bitter little laugh, “I’ve left Billy.”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Billy had sat on his sofa for a long time after he’d seen the note and photo. At first he’d just had to sit down, overwhelmed, as he had the most horrible feeling that his world was crashing down around his ears.

She was the one person who made him feel safe and loved. But he knew only too well that he’d been walking the line recently what with the situation at Anvil and having to keep Madani sweet. He hadn’t actually crossed the line, but he’d had to make sure she thought that he would, and soon at that. Would he have crossed it? He’d need to get back to himself on that question.

Of course he’d mentioned none of this to his girl. But obviously - somehow - he mustn’t have done a very good job at being discreet because she’d guessed something was up. And left him.

He’d poured himself a large whisky and downed it in one, before going over to the window and looking out forlornly at the city lights. Then he called Frank.

When he heard the gruff growl on the other end of the line, he said, “She’s left me, Frankie,” and realised how hoarse his voice sounded.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

“What?!” screeched Karen. You hadn’t divulged your recent secret fears to her, hoping against hope that you were wrong when you’d started noticing little things over the past few weeks. But now you gave her a full rundown of it all.

More and more claims of ‘working late’ and ‘being very busy at work’.

Alcohol on his breath after he’d been on these ‘working late’ evenings.

A distinct smell of CK’s Eternity from a jumper he’d left crumpled up in a corner on the bedroom floor when he’d been out extra late one evening.

The final straw? You almost laughed when you thought about it, as it was such a cliché. A smear of dark red lipstick on the inside collar on one of his otherwise pristine white shirts. And another unmistakable whiff of Eternity.

You’d never be able to wear that damn perfume again.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Frankie had been suitably sympathetic to start with, but had then begun to berate Billy for being ‘a stupid asshole’ once he’d explained what he’d been up to with Madani. “I didn’t sleep with her!” Billy grumbled, “....just messin’ around. You know we need to know what she knows.”

“Yeah, but women ain’t stupid, Russo! Were you goin’ home reeking of booze and another woman’s perfume?” Billy said nothing at first, just grunted but then said, “Maybe. Yeah.. probably.” “See!” said Frank, “...you’re a stupid asshole!” “I mean, she didn’t even challenge me on it!” Frank started laughing, “So that makes it her fault, huh!? You’re a piece of work, Russo.” “No, no.... I just meant, aren’t you supposed to have arguments about that kinda stuff first? She just up and left me!”

“I don’t blame her,” said Frank, “...and you know she’s not the type to take any BS from you, Bill. She probably thought it wasn’t worth her time listenin’ to you tryna give excuses for the inexcusable.”

Billy was reminded by this that one of Frank’s pet peeves was infidelity. “But I didn’t cheat!” said Billy forcefully. “Whaddya do, kiss her?” “Yeah.” “Feel her up a bit?” “Mmhuh.” “That’s cheatin’ in my book, Russo.” Billy realised he was hanging his head in shame, and quickly looked up and out of the window again.

“I dunno what to do, Frankie.”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

You’d given Karen your new number and told her on pain of death not to pass it on to anyone, even Frank and especially not to Billy. She’d assured you she wouldn’t, and neither would she tell them where you were headed.

She’d been fuming at Billy, and you wouldn’t like to be in his shoes the next time she happened to meet up with him. Her rage had been quite spectacular and she was really, really pissed that Billy hadn’t even tried to contact you. You didn’t say anything to her, but secretly you wondered if he’d actually spent the night with his side piece on this occasion and hadn’t even seen your note yet. Jealousy and anger began to take over and you stood up abruptly, determined that thoughts of that douchebag weren’t going to invade your brain.

You took the SIM card out of the phone, shut it down and tucked it away in one of your bags. Gathering all your stuff together, you began to get ready to leave the room..

Can’t wait to get on that plane, you thought.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Frankie rang Billy back a couple of hours later. “Micro tracked her phone,” he said without preamble. “Where is she? At Karen’s?” Billy asked anxiously. There was a pause, then, “Nah, Bill. She’s at JFK. And her phone’s switched off now.”

Billy, standing next to the window again, yelled, “Fuck!” before leaning his head against the cold glass. “Can Micro find out which flight’s she’s booked on, Frankie?” “He can try, but it’ll involve some hacking so it might take a little longer.” He paused again, before continuing, “And avoid Karen. She’s out for your blood.”

Billy sighed, “She’s spoken to her?” “Yeah, course she has, Bill. She knows more than she’s tellin’ me of course, but I’m not even gonna try askin’ her. Waste of time.” “It’s okay, I get it, Frankie. I wouldn’t ask you to. But if she does say anythin’.....” “I’ll let you know,” Frank finished the sentence for him and hung up.

Billy looked out of the window and then up into the sky. She wanted to get away from him so badly, she’d got a plane ticket and was about to fly.

He just prayed he’d be able to find her before she took off.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

@blackbirddaredevil23 @galaxyjane @omgrachwrites @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @ourloveisforthelovely @swthxrry @odetostep

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

London

[desdemonafictional]

TFA Fantasy WIP

Sentinel Prime, His Imperial Benevolence, The Auspicious and Holy Oneself, Emperor in Perpetua, entered the little farming villa like a spoiled brat waltzing into a tent of freaks. He cast his smugly disinterested eye over every dusty window and dinged up bit of furniture alike, observing the lack of bustling servants or fine hangings brought out for his arrival.

Optimus ground his jaw quietly.

“We apologize for the austerity,” he said, still standing stiffly at the door where Sentinel had shoulder-shoved past him to get inside. “The Orion House doesn’t have… much staff. I’m afraid we can’t receive you with all the honors due to a Prime.”

“Oh please,” Sentinel said, “don’t trouble yourself with a formal reception. I’ll just consider this a hunting party, how about that? Like old times, eh, Optimus?”

Bumblebee inched sidelong along the wall, leant sideways, and out the side of his mouth he said, “Y’all two know each other?”

The high ceilings of the Orion were indeed not dissimilar from the hunting lodges they had stayed in together from time to time, as junior officers in the Primal Guard. The air conditioning out here in the countryside was rudimentary, and the summers burned hot under the watchful stare of Hadeen, especially with so many bodies crowded into a single house putting off their own mechanical heat. It was, however, a manor house and not a hunting lodge. It was Optimus’ manor now, in fact, ever since he had been relegated here seven vorn earlier.

“Shall we make a room ready for you, your Benevolence?” Optimus said, ignoring the yellow car prodding at his side.

Sentinel gave the place a judgemental once over and said, “Just the one night, I think. We mustn’t trespass on your… hospitality.”

And with that, the rest of his retinue came sweeping in. Chamber attendants with berth dressings, a chef and cooks, secretaries—the Orion filled up immediately, bursting to its seams with activity. Optimus glanced through the window, and noted that out in the front of the house Sentinel’s guard was already setting up silk tents and laying camp with military efficiency.

“Bumblebee,” Optimus said, “why don’t you show the Prime’s bots where they can set his fixings for the night?”

“Uh,” Bumblebee said, “um, right—just this way, gentlemechs! You’re in good hands with me, I know everything there is to know about the Orion! Hey, stripes, you single—?”

Sentinel fell back to stand beside Optimus, not looking at him, in a parody of casual camaraderie.

“So I guess the pipsqueak isn’t your sweetspark,” Sentinel smirked. “That or you’ve developed a thing for being cuckolded?”

“I’m still single,” Optimus said. “I don’t have any sweetsparks.”

“What, not even that bulky hulk I saw out back?” Sentinel asked, grinning unpleasantly. “I bet he’s easy, rubes like that always are.”

Optimus squeezed his fist open and closed at his side, bruisingly tight, but discreetly. Sentinel was the Prime, and the Prime could say whatever nasty, petty thing he liked.

“Bulkhead is a brilliant engineer,” Optimus said, in an only slightly repressive tone. “He single-handedly designed the new extractors for the crystal fields, and the harvest is coming at 21% increased efficiency this vorn.”

“Whatever, farmer stuff,” Sentinel said. “I don’t give a scrap about that. You’re really still single? Seven vorns that you’ve been out here, and you haven’t even picked up some knobkneed crop duster for a tumble? Don’t tell me you’re still holding out for a conjunx.”

Optimus didn’t bother to point out that he’d been in mourning for most of that time, like Sentinel would have been, if he hadn’t been selected by the Matrix not one vorn after the hunting accident that took Elita from them both. Primes weren’t encouraged to mourn the loved ones from their previous lives. Just the angry edge to Sentinel’s bitter humor proved that he was still mourning, in his own way, and probably the empire would have been better off if he’d been allowed to deal with it on his own terms before being thrust into the mantle of Imperial Personage.

Optimus missed the friends they had been, before the bitterness.

“You know no decent court mech will have anything to do with a relegated bumpkin Count,” Sentinel pointed out. “Conjunxing is not in your future, Optimus. You’d be lucky to take an amica, like the peasants do.”

“There’s nothing wrong with taking an amica,” Optimus replied.

“Yeah, not for peasants and destitute washouts,” Sentinel said. “Hey, maybe you could be somebody’s subordinate conjunx, how about that? Not that you’d have any luck tempting a courtier away from Iacon with this…” he grimaced at the high ceilings and bare walls, “cabin in the mud.”

“Are you done?” Optimus asked, a little too forwardly for good manners.

“Watch it,” Sentinel said, narrowing his eyes. “If you’re not properly gracious, I’ll reconsider calling you back to court.”

“Re-?” Optimus skipped a pump beat. “Reconsider?”

Sentinel smirked again, this time with less humor and more coldness, and patted Optimus on the shoulder. “I’ve been thinking about it,” he said. “I could use more allies in the capitol. And you would be an ally for me, wouldn’t you, Optimus?”

The fragile shoot of hope withered all at once. Whatever Sentinel wanted him back at court for, it wouldn’t be out of the goodness of his spark. He still hated Optimus too much; any gratitude would be a yolk around Optimus’ neck for the rest of their lives.

“Yes, of course,” said Optimus. “I am at the service of the Primacy, as ever.”

“I thought you would be,” Sentinel said, and his smirk turned keen, and then he said: “Alright, show us where we can do some freshening up around here. You have body servants around this slaghole? I need a deep polish before dinner.”

--

His Imperial Benevolence came out of the shower quite a long time later, which was fortunate for his cooks, who had hastily taken over Optimus’ kitchen and were rushing to fill it with servable fuel. Optimus had quietly pulled his own kitchen staff—all two of them—away to help clean the place up a little more for guests. Sentinel’s cooks had ransacked the house’s pantry, pulling long spools of brass and bricks of gold onto every counter, vials of soluble compounds, crystals, seasonings. The cooks kept clicking their tongues at the spread. Optimus had the feeling that he was being Disapproved of.

In the house there were two cooks, one body servant, a housekeeper, Optimus, and the engineer (Bulkhead) who was out overseeing an upgrade to the manor rain pumps this month. The house had been on the empty side, before Sentinel, and now it was crammed full in every room with someone doing something. The change was a little bit dizzying. Bumblebee seemed to be loving it, though.

“Don’t make me clean,” he was whining, a squeegee dripping unhelpfully in his hand. “I want to go out and see the soldiers, let me go out and see if the soldiers need anything.”

Optimus pressed his lips together. “If you go out there now, I won’t see you again until tomorrow.”

“Yeah, okay, so? Sentinel’s cooks got it covered, you don’t need me.”

Optimus wondered if there was a polite way to say “I’m more worried one of them will lean you over his saddle bag without waiting for permission.” Bulkhead might or might not be easy, it wasn’t Optimus’s place to guess, but he had a distinct feeling Bumblebee would be.

“Just go get the place settings out,” Optimus told him, “when that’s done you can gossip with anybody in the house, but don’t go outside. I might need you.”

Bumblebee thwapped his cleaning cloth against his thigh and grumbled all the way out of the room. Optimus gave it depressingly low odds that he’d be obeyed the whole night, but, well, he’d done his best. He didn’t have time to be monitoring his staff all night, not when Sentinel was lurking about the place.

Besides, what were the chances Bumblebee could even bud new sparks? Less than thirty percent of the population could do it, under the best circumstances.

There was a shout from the direction of the baths, and Optimus whirled in time to see servants roiling away from the exclamation like insecticons in a disturbed hive. He pushed his way through the aimless anxiety and then—with a deep vent to pre-emptively cool himself—let himself into the washroom, where solvent was splattered all over the floor and Sentinel was splattered across the chest with globs of polish.

“My Prime,” Optimus said, leaning his hip against the wall. He didn’t smirk. He thought about it though.

Sentinel whirled, steam all but blowing out his vents. “One of your bumbling idiots broke my washkit!” He jabbed his finger at a very complicated looking fold-out case, enameled with blue and white and utterly smashed across the floor between himself and the body servant.

“I—” the servant said, “Optimus—your Courtesy—I was setting it out for the Prime, but one of the containers was—”

“Your idiot threw it at me!”

“One of the containers—there was a springloaded compartment and—”

“And it bit you like a needle-mouthed pit beast?” Sentinel mocked, furiously. “That case was one of a kind! My concubine made that for me!”

Optimus glazed at the poor smashed object. It certainly did look one of a kind, with that complicated enameling out the outside, the nested compartments all conjoined in different ways, like a puzzle box.

“Ugh,” Sentinel said, and glared down at his abdomen. “And you got them mixed up too, look at this, my paint is peeling, everyone knows you’re not supposed to mix cosmetic chemicals.”

Actually, it was peeling. Kind of bubbling too. That was alarming enough that Optimus pushed off the wall and went to fetch a dry cloth and a jar of water from the cabinet. Plain water was usually safe to mix with chemicals, whereas solvent was… not.

“Now I need to fix my paint too,” Sentinel seethed. “I wanted to go hunting tonight! I won’t have time to go hunting once we reach the border, it’ll be nothing but handshaking and touring the facilities!”

“I’m sure we can get your paint patched with plenty of time for dinner,” Optimus said, and sat Sentinel down at the edge of the great sunken oil pit (empty, as it usually was, the budget for hot oil being very slim at Orion House). He knelt down and dragged the broken kit back towards himself, fishing through the wreckage until he came up with the little jar of touch up paint in Sentinel’s classic blue.

“Um, my lord count,” the servant said, from somewhere behind Optimus.

“Don’t worry about it,” Optimus said, without looking back, “I’ll take it from here. You go help the others with dinner.”

“And get my hunting kit out more carefully this time!” Sentinel shouted after him, leaning so far forward that Optimus had to tilt his head out of the way to avoid bonking his Prime’s chassis.

Gently, Optimus pressed a palm to Sentinel’s chest and pushed him back into his seat. Sentinel slouched back into the bench seat, letting his elbows hang over the empty tub behind him. He eyed Optimus, his face tilted away at an angle that seemed half suspicious, half uncomfortable.

“You know you’re a Count now, not a cadet,” Sentinel said. “Below your station to be scrubbing and polishing anybody, even the Prime.”

Optimus’s half smile was more irony than humor. He wasn’t about to leave poor Screwshine alone with Sentinel, after that fit of temper. He focused on lathering up the powder paint and paint-thinner into something he could work with.

Sentinel let Optimus push his leg out of the way to get a better angle at the stripped plating, but his sidelong gaze didn’t ease up. “Not angling for a spot in the Primal Harem, are you?”

Optimus nearly shuddered at the thought. What a nightmare, locked up in the harem with a mech who hated him for the rest of his functioning. No amount of luxury or status was worth that. “No, my Prime. Definitely not. I just wasn’t going to let you keep terrorizing my servant all night.”

Sentinel scowled, but he also relaxed. “I wouldn’t have to yell at your staff if they weren’t a bunch of incompetent ninnies.”

“You’re the Prime,” Optimus said, fixing his frown firmly on the paint, and not on Sentinel’s face. “You’re meant to comport yourself with more grace than that.”

“Hah,” Sentinel said, and his face twisted into an even darker configuration, “what would a washout coward like you know about any of it, anyway.”

There was an uncomfortable silence, broken only by the smooth soft sound of paint applique. Eventually, Sentinel snapped, “Hand me that pill case, the pink one, it’s down in the slag pile.”

Optimus was reluctant to pause, thinking of the quick drying paint, but obeyed after only a second’s hesitation. He dug it out and handed it up, considering the esoteric pink inscriptions in the white enamel. White was the color of philosophy. Pink was the color of life. When Sentinel shook out a couple of the little capsules, in the moment before clapping them to his mouth and swallowing, their insides sloshed with a viscous magenta sludge.

“What… are those?” Optimus asked, feeling a little sick just from looking at the things.

“Mm?” Sentinel knocked back a quick swig of something from his subspace pocket and then coughed, wiping his mouth absently with the back of his hand. “Oh. Prima Materia. Divine Oneness philosophy is all the rage in Iacon right now. Guess you wouldn’t know about that out here in the boonies.”

Optimus frowned and wracked his memory storage. “An alchemical elixir?”

“Yeah,” Sentinel said, and tucked the little pill case back into his subspace pocket. “Couple a day, supposed to make you live forever. When the old chancellor came down with Zero Point Crytosis last orn, the court was hysterical. I don’t say this very often, but every once in a while, I miss soldiers.”

Optimus made a face at the idea of taking those goop capsules twice a day. “You sure that stuff is safe?”

“Please,” Sentinel said, “I’m the Prime. My alchemists aren’t grabbing any old dirt off the back of a truck and calling it gold. Anyway, one of my concubines is a chemist, and a damn good one for all she needs the smart mouth knocked off of her. She mixed the slag herself.”

Optimus continued to regard it doubtfully.

[wildroseofarran]

Into the Umbra || Pete, MJ, Guildias, Abel, & Rosmond || March, 2020

MJ/Guildias: Midas would be good from this night forth, with designated things to knock down to make his point. Abel in his rat terrier form, sitting menacingly on MJ's shoulder while they conversed, paying no mind to him whatsoever, like a looming promise, seemed to do the trick. Staying the night at Peter's felt surreal, and in a sense, wrong. Their relationship wasn't as clean of a slate as he would have liked, but he couldn't deny himself a glance through rose-tinted lenses at what had been.

He would have insisted on a room of his own with Abel, distancing himself enough not to feel completely guilty come the next night, when Guildias knocked on Peter's door. Together, they excused themselves for a quick trip to Gertrude Draegan, establishing his presence and, against Peter's judgement, explained his intended rescue operation. The two returned an hour later, pulling up in front of Peter's house in a black Lincoln Navigator. James Rosmond, dressed in a black felt jacket, remained behind the wheel.

Pete: Even had MJ not insisted, Pete still would've set him up in the guest room. They were starting fresh and that meant a romantic relationship between the two of them didn't currently exist. As such, the guest room was the only option.

He'd looked on in amusement as MJ gave Midas a talking to with Abel's silent but very present assistance, pleased that it seemed to have worked.

The next day when Midas wanted attention, he only knocked over what he was allowed to and was rewarded handsomely with treats and affection.

Pete was in the middle of doling out said affection when the SUV pulled up.

"Looks like a goddamn mafia lieutenant," he muttered to himself, turning away from the window so his glare wouldn't be seen.

MJ/Guildias/Rosmond: MJ and Guildias came to the door as one. No Callum in sight. The SUV remained warm and rumbling. Rosmond's first field operation since the Embrace. Waylon Dahlberg and Leslie Issott a few taps on his antiquated cellphone, should the expertise of a witch be required.

There he would wait, as Peter and the familiar named Abel were gathered for their expedition.

"Gertrude insisted," MJ explained. "Said it would be good for him. Probably t'keep an eye on us."

Guildias leaned against the doorway. "We represent Edenton, whether we like it or lump it. If something catastrophic were to happen, Raleigh mustn't be privy to the embarrassment."

Pete/Abel: Pete opened the door with a frown that was matched by Abel's as he appeared behind him.

"Dude, come on," said Abel, his tone heartily disapproving. "I thought we agreed you were gonna go in, observe the niceties, and get out. Why'd you go and tell her? She's not the boss of the Umbra!"

A sentiment Pete echoed. "The only catastrophe will be if we fail to get that kid, I couldn't care less about Gertrude's potential embarrassment. Like Raleigh gives one single shit about a human child, they probably didn't even notice."

MJ: "Since when did the two of ya start parroting each other? This be a sewin' circle while we were out?"

Abel: "He fed me chicken and rice casserole," said Abel. "We bonded. But still! Now some goon is gonna watch us the whole time and learn shit about us. It's like taking a cop on a heist."

Guildias: "More akin to taking a bodyguard and former assassin," said Guildias. "Trust me, Mr. Harrington, the man has no personality to speak of."

Abel: Abel peeked around Guildias at the SUV and turned to Pete. “You’re right, it does look like a mafia lieutenant car.” The windows were so dark he couldn’t even see the goon.

“All right, so. Is Mr. No Personality coming in or what?”

MJ/Guildias: MJ just snickered. "If it weren't for ya breakin' physics we'd have a Scooby-doo van. Ya know, for work."

"We have hours of drive ahead of us and little night. Rosmond encourages you to bring water," Guildias smirked at Peter.

Pete/Abel: “If we did have a Scooby-doo van, it would have to break physics, too, so we wouldn't have to drive around for hours. Does the mafia lieutenant really want to drive?”

Pete just sighed and went to the kitchen to fill up a water bottle.

MJ/Guildias: "Expect the unexpected." And a lack of trust for a familiar's magic from both Setite and Giovanni. Being backed by a Ravnos did little for confidence; less post-merge.

"Stopped by the RV for some shit. Should have everything," said MJ. "Let's go, Abe. Come meet the mafia."

Abel: "You said yourself we only have a little bit of night to do this and he wants to spend a chunk of it driving." Abel shook his head and grabbed his jacket. "This is why you don't bring a cop." He heaved a great sigh. "All right, let's go meet the mafia."

MJ/Guildias: "We got gear. Got shit if the kid needs moved. Can't just show up at a place ya ain't even seen. Can ya even move five people n'gear t'some place ya ain't even been, dude?" Asked while tugging him by the shirt. No standing and talking. Movement.

Guildias waited quietly for Peter.

Pete/Abel: "I can move four people and gear thanks to the booster spell and talismans I got from X and Ramsay. You know, like we planned. The news reported on it, pictures of the house and the kid are everywhere and the address wasn't hard to find. How do you think I grabbed your ass from that scary place with the giant glass tank? Magic, my guy."

Pete returned a few moments later wearing a jacket and carrying a small pack. "What are my chances of not having to ride with the prince's goon and just following behind in my own car?"

MJ/Guildias: "Magic - ya read my mind! Kinda different from pictures on a screen." Or in Rosmond's case, a printed map to a craftsman foursquare a few miles outside of Raleigh. The route was simple enough and already memorized.

MJ pulled from his inner jacket pocket a long enticing stick of LaffyTaffy. A peace offering handed over without word.

"Let's not over-complicate matters," said Guildias. "Has he outwardly wronged you?"

Pete/Abel: Abel opened his mouth, fully prepared to say more, but the appearance of the candy had it closing again. He accepted it with a smile. "Okay, I love you again. Let's meet Mr. Wet Blanket. Does he actually have no personality or was Guildias exaggerating?"

"Matters are already complicated," said Pete. "We're dipping into the Veil. I'd just rather not have Gertrude's ears and eyes adding to the tension. But I guess it doesn't matter anymore. What's done is done and we have shit to do."

MJ/Guildias: "Ya tell me," MJ smirked, opening one of the doors for Abel. Black interior and spacious, which was the point. Easy to label safety measures as cliche, but there they were.

"That still doesn't answer my question. Seems to be the one area you and Callum disagree."

Pete/Abel: Abel poked his head into the car and looked around. 'Woowwwww,' he thought to MJ. 'It's very la cosa nostra in here.' Out loud, he greeted the driver. "Hey, man."

"You of all people should know why I don't think fondly of the prince. Isn't that reason enough to not want him to be part of this?" He was almost certain telling Gertrude had been Guildias' idea, or maybe even his doing. "Let's just go."

Pete locked the door behind him and walked to the car, hearing his mentor's voice in his head telling him to take things in stride.

MJ/Guildias/Rosmond: Abel was gently shoved forward. He wasn't going to bother reminding him to mind his manners.

A youngish-looking man, blond, eyes like dying grass, observed from the rear-view mirror. Chiseled from some other era. Stoic as a garden statue.

"Mr. Harrington," he greeted. Something in those two words was not quite North Carolina. Something more melodic and silky than one might expect from that face.

"For the man he once was," said Guildias, waiting to fall into step with the Fera. The door was opened for Peter, and it was Guildias climbing into the backseat. A choice made so MJ didn't have to. Rosmond watched expectedly as MJ took his place in the front passenger seat.

"I'll be y'all's DJ for the next hour(sss). We start our adventure with some Reba."

Pete/Abel: Having spent so long in the company of an alias-loving demon, it was more than a little unsettling to be called by his actual name, especially by someone that looked so...stony. Abel wasn't entirely sure he liked it. "Yep, that's me. You don't have to call me mister. And your name...?"

"Rosmond," said Pete, settling in between Abel and Guildias. "His name is Rosmond."

MJ/Guildias: The drive would have been quiet if not for MJ's music. Their driver offered nothing by means of conversation. Neither did Guildias, content with tilting back in his seat and adjusting large gold and brown hexagonal Ray-Bans.

MJ took initiative to sing. Juggling lemons which disappeared randomly, forced back with a bit of concentration. Minutes before arrival, Abel was finally given attention by the Setite.

"Is he always like this?"

Pete/Abel: While Pete didn't normally go for country, MJ's singing provided both distraction and entertainment. The ride was giving him way too much time to think.

Abel shook his head. "Nope. Sometimes he juggles oranges."

MJ/Guildias: "An improvement, then. It's time you upgrade to grapefruit."

"Ha. Easy." But what materialized in his hands looked too yellow. One looked more like Jupiter with various rings of decay. Not quite. He stared for some time, trying to find the appropriate color of a citrus he'd forgotten.

Abel: Abel leaned forward in his seat for a better view.

"Too yellow. Go for a slightly bigger orange that's a yellowy orange color."

MJ/Rosmond: Bigger than this? Roughly the size of both fists, then, and now a rotten lemon in shade.

"Too brown," said Rosmond.

Abel: "Slightly smaller. Think softball or....yeah no, just think softball."

MJ/Guildias: Guildias pulled his phone from pocket. Many years out of date. Complete with keyboard. He leaned forward and presented a stock photo.

"Huh," MJ sighed, trying one more time with Abel's advice and Guildias' image.

The texture wasn't quite there, but an improvement.

Abel: "Ah, you got it! Well done, well done. We're gonna have you juggling citrus of all persuasions before you know it."

To Guildias he said, "I thought your people hated tech?"

Guildias: "We're not part of the ivory tower; but it comes with its own set of rules."

Abel: The hell was the ivory tower? Something to ask MJ later on.

"Gotta live the burner phone life, man."

Guildias/Rosmond: "What makes you think I'm not?"

Rosmond had nothing to add. With the same silence, he drove the SUV quietly onto a dirt road and into a snug patch of forest. The engine was killed, keys stuffed in his pocket.

"Mr. Harrington, I would appreciate your assistance." A brief look back to Guildias. Both men climbed out of the vehicle.

Abel: "That phone you have has internet access. I'm talking the circa-2004-Nokia-phone-that-only-has-Snake-on-it burner phone life."

He peered out the windows at their destination, metaphorical antenna up for anything out of the ordinary.

"I'm all ears, but really, please call me Abel."

MJ/Guildias/Rosmond: The driver's side door was shutting. Guildias gestured for Abel to follow him. Meanwhile, MJ climbed into the back with Peter.

"Stake out shit," he sighed. Normally his forte in the duo, and normally Xavier's forte in the trio. For now, grapefruit had been replaced by pink and blue golf balls, rolled in a single hand.

"You won't be getting a first name from our acquaintance, my friend," Guildias whispered. "That is not a hill to die on."

"Cameras and other security systems need to first be addressed. By any means." Rosmond looked expectedly to the snake, already stepping deeper into the woods where Rosmond pointed. To the house hidden behind a near quarter mile of bracken and sagging branches.

Pete/Abel: Pete nodded, peering out the window as Abel had. "Kinda wanna roll the window down and see if I can smell anything else that might be out there. It occurred to me about fifty miles ago that we might not be the only ones with an interest in this."

Abel looked from Guildias to the man called Rosmond. Did the guy ever crack a smile? Or a joke? Or blink? "I'm annoyingly persistent," he whispered back. "But I'll take your word for it."

He was itching to turn into his animal form but that wasn't wise for two reasons: one, he felt uncomfortable doing so without MJ around. Two, he wouldn't be able to communicate with them.

"There's a few spells for that. Glamours that could hide us while we do what we need to do without being seen."

MJ/Guildias/Rosmond: "What, like fae? Ain't that their thing, stealin' children n'shit?" MJ reached over Peter's lap for the door, opening it a crack. He wanted to take his rebirth behind the masquerade seriously.

Rosmond followed behind by a few feet. "Observation," he reminded. "Mr. Calloway and Graham will utilize your information."

"Still the bodyguard?" Guildias looked over his shoulder, smirk in his eyes.

"Supervision." With Gertrude's insistence. Field work with new capacity. A test of responsibility he would not take lightly.

The same craftsman foursquare from the printed page. New paint job. Manicured lawn. A plastic colorful play set in the backyard. A silver truck and red sedan in the front yard. Porch light on. Lights off save for the second floor in two rooms.

Pete/Abel: "Some of them, yeah. Could be anyone though, including some weirdo human." It was never a good idea to underestimate the weirdos.

Pete scooted close enough to the door to where he could stick his nose out and scented the air.

Well, Abel thought, these two seemed fairly uninterested in magic. Which begged the question of why Rosmond had asked for his assistance.

He looked at the house with a frown. It looked so normal. Nothing about it gave away what had happened inside.

"Poor souls," he sighed to himself.

MJ/Guildias: "You were called 'pup' last night. We'll need that right now, if you're willing to oblige," said Guildias, softly for the semblance of privacy.

Meanwhile, MJ watched Peter with fascination. "What can ya smell?"

Pete/Abel: Abel turned to Guildias, ignoring the knot in his gut. Although whether it was more to do with the impending journey into the Umbra or the thought of transforming without MJ, he couldn't say for sure. "I am--" sort of, "--but I won't be able to communicate with you. Unless you practice telepathy?"

Pete inhaled deeply. "You. Soil. Some sort of body of water nearby. Vampire."

MJ/Guildias: "We'll be right here. You see what you see and come back to us. Door cams, police surveillance. Do not put yourself in unnecessary danger. I'll be right behind you."

MJ smiled privately. "That all? Lions, tigers, bears, oh my?"

Pete/Abel: "I'm not putting myself in any danger at all," Abel said with a grin, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a little silver pendant. It was small, about the size of a nickel, and inscribed with what appeared to be several runic symbols.

Abel clipped it on the necklace he was already wearing so it rested beside his 'A' pendant.

"Okay, so this is gonna hide me from view and muffle any sounds I make, but you should still be able to hear my footsteps if you listen close."

Pete chuckled. "None of them around, only us. Good sign I guess."

MJ/Guildias/Rosmond: "A little more elaborate than a stray dog wandering about," said Guildias. "If the task is completed, then by all means."

Rosmond remained nearby a tree, hands to his sides, observing like the statue Abel imagined him as.

Guildias took a step forward, disappearing behind a tree and then altogether.

"The more borin' the better," MJ nodded. "Ain't supposed t'be a heist."

Pete/Abel: "People tend to approach small dogs, to either pet them or to try and help them. Sometimes I'll get a treat out of the deal but we've gotta be stealthier today." Abel took one more second to make sure the necklace was secure before chanting a small incantation.

He hadn't quite finished when he slowly started to fade from view, his voice growing fainter and fainter as if he were moving far away. A moment later he was gone completely, and only once he was hidden did he feel safe enough to transform.

'I'm in dog form,' he thought to MJ, chain and pendants jingling as he shook himself off. 'Also invisible. Just wanted to give you the head's up.'

Pete nodded as well. "Yeah. Sure feels like one though. Still can't quite believe we're gonna do what we're about to do. It's like my brain can't process it."

MJ/Guildias: Guildias remained on the outskirts, watchful of sinking grass under invisible feet that would be Abel. Watchful for a police car, something. After a bout of silence, he pulled from his coat various colored loupes, bringing each to his eye as he searched for an outward sign of entry. Some indication of where to begin.

MJ sat up straight, looking off to nowhere as though suddenly lost in thought. And then like that, it was over.

"This is sorta been my thing for a while now. Not rescuin' kids, but I mean, the weird shit it comes with."

Pete/Abel: The movement in the sinking grass would indicate a methodical survey around the house. Abel slowly circled it, alternating between sniffing around and watching and listening for any movement or sign that something was amiss. Aside from the obvious, of course.

Since he couldn't speak to Guildias, he thought his observations at MJ. 'Everything's pretty quiet. I smell new paint but I can still smell two kids. One scent is stronger than the other. There's another scent too, can't identify it just yet.' A few beats of silence. 'It's so frustratingly normal.'

"You're sounding more like Robin Hood by the second. Does your demon friend help too?" Pete looked over at MJ. "You okay?"

MJ/Guildias: Every image given to MJ was filed away. This would be vital later. One thing to look out for. That new trend.

'Check the door for one of them cams. I don't think they'll have anything else.'

After a wide circle of the entire property, Guildias returned to Rosmond's side. Reappeared as easily as a blink, and waited for the familiar.

"Yeah," MJ smiled. "N'yeah, m'good. We can start headin' over."

Pete/Abel: 'Copy that.'

Abel looped around again to check out the back door. That's where people tended to have cameras and other security measures, since it couldn't be seen from the street. Of course, humans didn't realize the real threats didn't need cover to attack.

'I see it. Small camera pointed at the back door. Simple, the kind an alarm company would offer to their customers. Fixed position, probably connects to their Wi-Fi network.'

Pete took a deep breath. "All right, let's do this, Robin Hood."

MJ: 'To zap the power lines or do my cloak shit.' To fuck the power lines would bring someone out and shorten their window further. 'Keep sendin' me a view. Check the front door, too. We're headin' that way.'

MJ looked back for Peter, a look on his face as though surprised to see him. Telepathy was disorienting.

"What's your plan?"

Pete/Abel: 'Cutting power attracts attention and utility people. I think cloaking is the way to go.'

Back again to the front of the house. A few of the windows had stickers with a company logo on them; probably the same company that had supplied the camera.

Moving as silently as he could, Abel climbed the front steps and inspected the porch. 'They have a doorbell camera too. Movement usually triggers the censor on those.'

Pete sighed as he zipped up his jacket and adjusted his bag on his shoulder. "Honestly? I don't fuckin' know, man. Abel's got this spell to turn me into a beacon or a lighthouse so this kid can find me but what if it doesn't work?"

MJ: "He's got a what now?" MJ laughed. "I'll bet ya real money that light freaks out the snake."

Which reminded him, speaking with Abel, to find a path with the least amount of trees.

'We'll focus on the backyard. I need the cam's perspective real quick and I got it.'

Pete/Abel: "I only understood about half his explanation but basically it's going to make it easier for us to find the kid in the Umbra so we're not there longer than we absolutely have to be. Time's already fucky over there."

'Good call. Tread lightly,' Abel added before rejoining the two vampires. A quick incantation to reverse the spell and he slowly blinked back into existence, once again in human form.

MJ/Guildias/Rosmond: "I wouldn't know." They came upon two figures. Guildias handing over the various colored loupes to Rosmond. Green glass was brought to his eye.

"Ya get the cam's perspective?" whispered to Abel, not the least bit surprised by his sudden appearance.

Rosmond looked back for Peter. He offered the glass by its brass handle. Pointed towards the furthest wall of the back of the house. A small opening like smears on the glass broken by some nonexistent void light. The glass of course was spotless.

"That is where you will breach."

Pete/Abel: ‘It’s pointed at the back door,’ Abel thought to him. ‘At most it’s getting a tiny bit of the backyard and the back porch. It’s not super sophisticated.’

Pete accepted the glass and held it to his eye.

So that was what a portal into the Veil looked like. It was nothing like he would’ve expected. Didn’t even look sinister.

MJ/Guildias/Rosmond: The telepathy put another smile on his face. "Ros ain't so fast t'kill us all." Two different expressions turned their attention upon the pair. One of bored neutrality, the other a smirk.

"Which of you can lure the occupants inoffensively?" asked Rosmond.

"I got that," said MJ. "Goin' in." Rosmond waited several steps before following behind. Watched as the trickster honed in on the small white device near the ceiling of the small back porch. His hands came together. Middle fingers wrapped over index fingers and touched. A halved orb, no bigger than a snow globe, attached itself to the camera.

'Actually, I ain't got that. Busy here. Can ya bark?'

Pete/Abel: "Hey!" Abel gave MJ a smack on the arm. "Be an agent of chaos after we finish our mission," he whisper yelled, though there was amusement in his eyes.

Pete studied the portal a moment longer and handed the glass back. He felt like starting at it too long would make him lose his nerve or fry his brain or something. Everything about this felt completely out of his depth.

Abel, who had made his way over to stand by Pete, suddenly seemed to lose himself in thought.

'Do you just want me to bark or should I make myself known and distract them?'

MJ: 'Nothin' human. We need sweet lost animal.'

Abel: 'Invisible innocent barking, gotcha.'

"Be back in a sec," Abel announced out loud before activating his spell again and transforming back into a dog.

He wanted to stay close enough to the house to be heard while also not drawing attention toward any of them, so he moved a few feet away in the opposite direction of everything before letting out the most pitiful little bark anyone ever did hear.

MJ/Rosmond: A sound which worked almost instantly to stir the house. Another bark and the porch light switched on. MJ knelt in place, focused on the camera as Rosmond waited around the corner. A woman with deep warm skin and tired eyes first looked out the window before opening the back door. She clicked her tongue.

Abel: Gotcha, Abel thought to himself.

He changed locations to give the illusion that he was wandering around lost and barked again, even adding a whine for good measure and shaking himself so his pendants would jingle.

He sort of felt like the pied piper but not sinister.

MJ/Rosmond: It was enough for her to descend the steps. She turned her head this way and that in search of what sounded like a little dog, to be greeted instead by a blond figure twice her size, hand clasped firmly over her mouth.

"You didn't see my face. You're exhausted. You deserve to sleep. Dream of your son."

Her expression softened, and Rosmond removed his hand. Her arms fell to her sides, and she turned, walking slowly back inside with the vampire at her heels.

MJ, caught up in what he'd just witnessed, damn near dropped his glamour.

Abel: It caught Abel by surprise as well. He very nearly barked for real and ran toward the woman and whatever the hell Rosmond was doing to her until she calmly walked back inside.

'What the fuck was that!?' he thought to MJ. 'Did you know he was going to do that?'

MJ/Guildias: 'Knew he was gonna do somethin'. Didn't know it was fuckin' that.' How the fuck did he do that? It felt familiar. Something he knew, or seen, or experienced. Something he couldn't quite put his finger on.

One by one, the upstairs bedrooms darkened.

Guildias took to the porch, patting MJ's shoulder along the way.

"It's your time to shine, Peter."

Pete/Abel: 'Well shit, that's an important detail to keep to himself. Is he always this bad at communicating?' Abel returned to where Pete was, making himself human and visible again.

"Oh no it's not," he said, reaching back into his pockets and pulling out even more pendants. Some were round, some polygonal, but all were made of perfectly clear crystal. The ones that were on short strings were placed on Pete's wrist and the one on the longer string was put around his neck. "Can't go walking in there without activating you first."

MJ/Guildias: 'He's the boss right now. Ain't gotta tell us shit.' It was still jarring, watching a mere ghoul rank before his very eyes. Someone he'd been forced to steal from Guildias' basement years ago under Victoria Harrak's orders, now working in tandem. Felt less real than what they were about to do.

"Activating him?" asked Guildias.

Pete/Abel: 'Says who? We're all bringing something to the table. He's being withholding, plain and simple.' It was just the sort of behavior he expected from someone with the demeanor of a statue.

Abel focused back on the task at hand, nodding at Guildias' question. "Yep. Sending him into the Umbra blind is a suicide mission, so I found something to help." The origin of which he would keep to himself. Wouldn't do to go revealing privileged information willy-nilly.

"These crystals are gonna turn our Petey boy into a lighthouse so he can find the little boy, or so the little boy can find him. Petey, did you bring your flashlight like I told you?"

Pete nodded.

"And a weapon?"

"I have a pocketknife?"

"That'll do. Extra sweater?"

Another nod.

"Snack?"

Yet another nod.

"Good man."

Guildias: Guildias took Peter's wrist in three fingers, gently, to examine the crystals. Sunglasses resting on his head, hair now in a bun.

"If the Umbra will have me, I intend to go with him," he said. "Whatever you face will not be alone."

Pete: The crystals, though beautiful, looked completely innocuous. Indeed, it was hard to tell how something so unremarkable could serve as anything but an adornment.

But then that was the beauty of magic.

That caught Pete by surprise. "You want to come with me?"

Guildias: "Did you think you were walking into the unknown alone? That I or anyone here would allow that?"

Pete/Abel: Rosmond would certainly allow it, Pete thought.

"I mean, I assumed Abel might join me."

"Which I will," said Abel.

Guildias: "That will leave what remains to guard in our absence. Shall we?" Guildias opened his hand towards the still open door.

Abel: "Not so fast there. If the Umbra does let you in, you'll need this."

Abel reached into another pocket for yet another pendant, or rather three. These were again shaped like coins and each was on a silver chain. He put one on and offered the other two to Pete and Guildias respectively.

"From what I understand, it's very easy to get lost in there. These will help us find each other if we get separated. They feel warm when we're together and colder the farther away we get from each other. Magical buddy system."

MJ/Guildias/Rosmond: "And you just happened to have three." Guildias smiled.

Rosmond filled the doorway, looked between the three and their shared necklaces. That answered his intended question.

"This way." To the laundry room just behind the kitchen.

"Don't y'all come back armless n'shit," called MJ in whisper, watching Peter for as long as he was able.

The small room was unassuming, plain white, and saturated in the scent of fabric softener. Two cat dishes sat atop of the dryer, already opened by Rosmond.

"It's the wall itself," he explained. "Spills outside." The green loupe was offered to Peter. "Keep it with you to find your way back."

Pete/Abel: "I have five actually!" Abel produced another two from his pocket. "One for MJ if he wanted to come and one for the kid so we don't lose him once we manage to get him."

Pete made to follow Rosmond, but not before shooting MJ a smile. "I'll do my best," he whispered back, finally following Rosmond to the laundry room.

God, it looked so normal. Unsettlingly so. Why of all places had a portal opened here?

He accepted the glass. "Thanks. Guess there's nothing left but to do it."

Guildias/Rosmond: "Manage your breathing. Keep calm. Do not separate." Words of advice Gertrude had given to pass along, and while sound, still seemed hollow coming from inexperienced lips. This would not always be the case, but Rosmond's experience would not begin tonight.

There was no sense in asking which would be the first to enter. The choice was only one to Guildias' knowledge. Quietly, he took a knee near the wall, looking up expectantly to Peter.

Pete/Abel: "Just focus on the necklace, Petey," said Abel. "Warm is good, warm is safe."

Pete nodded and tucked the buddy system pendant into his shirt. "Warm is safe. Okay."

Manage his breathing and stay calm. Pretty much what his mentor had told him over and over when he was struggling. He tried to hear Gaetan's voice now, tried to feel as centered as he had in Gaetan's presence.

Like stepping into the river, he told himself, taking a few deep breaths. This was just stepping into cool rushing water.

He entered the portal.

Guildias: A stench like primordial soup thick enough to taste. A heavy, cold, gel-like substance clung to Peter's entire being. Underneath his clothes and against his scalp. In his teeth, wet on his tongue, and seeped between fingers, toes, and thighs. The sensation threatened his nostrils and stung at his eyes.

Behind, someone grabbed his foot. Their only line into the Penumbra. That place where walking serpents were not welcome, and those covered in the dust of demonic ash were shunned.

Guildias held useless breath. Pupils slit in the limited light, finding their scenery drastically changed. They were outside. Outside somewhere else, but not. The same number of trees. The same three trees in a near perfect triangle. These trees were larger, older. Almost touched. The plastic playground, once colorful and clean, now covered in moss and mounds of dirt. Aged many years. Half swallowed by the earth.

Guildias got to his feet, reached for Peter and felt for Abel.

The ground was soft. Grass rich and healthy. The world saturated in color, though still blanketed in the same darkness of night.

"Come here," Guildias whispered to Peter, removing his scarf from around his neck.

Pete/Abel: What had he been expecting the Veil to be? Pete couldn't even begin to imagine.

But he did know that whatever slimy reek was covering him head to toe was most certainly not water and boy, did he want to fucking panic.

Would panicking help? No. Did it ever? No. So what was he to do?

Suck it up and pretend it was water. This first and hopefully only foray into the in-between was not about comfort.

Abel felt similarly. This place stunk like nothing had ever stunk before and every single cell that made up his being was absolutely screaming with protest at being here. God, he really hoped the Umbra didn't bounce them out. Could it even do that? Probably.

It was certainly unsettling being here, with everything looking the same but not. Felt like an episode of the Twilight Zone.

"Buddy system," he said, whispering as well. He grasped Guildias' searching hand and reached out for Pete's.

Meanwhile, Pete was moving closer to Guildias.

Guildias: Abel's hand was stuffed in the vampire's jacket. He then proceeded to wrap his black scarf around Peter's neck, careful around his mouth and nose to aid his breathing. Not a concern of his, and Peter was better use to them conscious.

Pete/Abel: Pete gave Guildias a grateful nod and focused on his breathing. He didn't want to speak just yet and tempt fate on the panic attack front, so he just tried to get his bearings and re-center himself.

Abel wasn't faring too much better, but he had the advantage of more magical experience.

"Wonder if I can make a barrier around us," he wondered aloud. "X does it all the time for privacy. Maybe it can work for Umbra lube."

Guildias: "I think the word we're looking for is Gauntlet." That uncomfortable veil which deterred most, but Peter was stronger than that. At least, so far.

"Slowly," he whispered. "Slow and shallow." A thick brown curl was pushed from between his eyes. "When you're ready, you lead."

Pete/Abel: "Gauntlet? Nah. That may be the technical term but this shit has the consistency of lube with none of the fun implications. So, Umbra lube. How we doing over there, Petey?"

Pete gestured with his hand to indicate 'so-so'. The scarf was helping the breathing situation, though. He was massively uncomfortable but no longer in danger of passing out from lack of oxygen.

"Hang in there, champ," said Abel. "We need to wipe his face so he can see."

Guildias: "Keep your eyes closed." The end of the scarf, the side which had been hidden during transition, was used to wipe at his eyelids and around his sockets. The substance was thin, and wiped away relatively easy.

"I assume for your kind this becomes easier."

Finally, Guildias looked back. "How are your eyes?" he asked Abel.

Pete/Abel: Pete didn't have to be told twice; he could barely open his eyes as it was.

"Thank you," he managed, sounding slightly breathless, like he was recovering from a workout.

Abel took a second to assess. "They're good, not great. Tried to duck my head as much as possible when we passed through, so only a little lube got in them."

Pete snorted. "Lube?"

"What else would you call this?"

Guildias: "Indulge the pup. Now, let's assume the child underwent the same treatment. Frightened, cold, in a broken mirror image of a familiar world. Where do you assume a child would go? I have but one theory."

Pete/Abel: Pete slowly blinked while he let his eyes adjust. They didn't sting or anything, but they very badly wanted to water.

"Uh...well. If I was a kid and I was lost, I'd try to find my house. Or at least something that looked familiar and safe."

Guildias: Guildias turned from whence they came. To a house without paint. Sagging with the weight of a tree growing on its roof. Its roots pierced through the ceiling and out through various windows. Spilled out from all sides of the roof and into the ground below. Only one window had stood the test of weight. Opened just wide enough for a little body to wriggle through.

"My assumption went through there."

Pete/Abel: Abel looked uneasily upon the tree. "There's no telling what the inside of that place looks like if this is what the outside looks like. Got your beacons out, Pete?"

Pete looked down at the crystals around his neck. Despite being covered in the same substance as the rest of him, he could swear they were glowing. "Apparently."

"Okay. Time to squeeze through the window. Hold on tight to Gil. I'll hold on tight to him too. Absolutely do not let go of each other."

Guildias: "Do you intend to each claim a foot as some golden prize?" His smile was brief but genuine. The window - kitchen window, from the looks of things - was pushed up until resistant. A tight squeeze, but manageable. They would only need to do this once. Assuming their way home was also in the sham of a laundry room here.

The vampire turned himself into a sitting position halfway through, body shifting in a manner almost unnaturally smooth. The house was blanketed in a dust thick enough to scrape away. Floating in the air in a kind of stasis. The handprint of a child on the fractured marble counter-top. Not a footprint in sight.

Pete/Abel: "In this world it might as well be," said Abel. Contact was the absolute name of the game right now; if they had that, they had a maybe decent chance of getting out of this okay.

Pete grunted as he squeezed through the window, the complete opposite of Guildias' inhuman grace. How'd he get here? How was squeezing through a window in the Veil something he was actually doing?

"Already sick of this place," he muttered in a whisper as he looked around. The handprint was a good indication that they were on the right track; the lack of footprint was not. "What, did this kid fly through here? Does anything look remotely disturbed to either of ya'll?"

Guildias: Guildias took a false breath. The air was stale, and thick with musk. The scent of rust and toiled earth blended almost seamlessly. His olfactory wasn't nearly as keen as he knew the Ravnos' to be. Might have come in handy, but he was otherwise occupied.

"That," he said. His tone suddenly quiet, as the only disturbance was that of roots. Roots which seemed to be breathing.

Pete/Abel: Abel looked uneasily to the tree. Other than the handprint and the open window, there were zero signs of life in here. Except, of course, for the tree. "Normally I'd say no way, buuuuut...."

Pete turned the tree as well. "What, you think the tree grabbed him? Wouldn't there be signs of that?"

"Not necessarily," said Abel. "Should we start hacking away at it? That seems like a bad move. It might attack us."

Guildias: "I think the best course of action would be to explore it. From bottom to top. We know he came in here, so I doubt he'd be on the roof. We can make that our last stop if we haven't found him."

Pete/Abel: Abel nodded. It seemed like a solid enough plan even though they weren't exactly spoiled for choice on how to proceed.

"Okay. So. Who's gonna be the first to touch the tree?"

"I'll do it," said Pete. "Any advice?"

"Uh...don't hurt it. Maybe--would it be weird to ask it for permission? I feel like it can definitely hear us."

Guildias: "No option is off the table. We'll see how it reacts to your nearness."

Guildias considered a moment before stepping down from his counter perch.

"I'll stand behind you. Follow Abel's idea. Hover your hand and ask."

Pete: Pete nodded and took a deep breath. "All right, here goes nothing."

He stepped closer to the tree, moving as cautiously and non-threateningly as he possibly could. If Abel was right and the tree was...sentient? somehow, then it couldn't hurt to be careful and respectful.

"Hello," he said softly, stopping just a couple steps away from the roots. "I'm looking for someone. Could you help me?"

Guildias: Guildias remained just behind, hand hovering over Peter's shoulder the same as Peter to the root. Ready to snatch at the first violent response.

The breathing root recessed from his presence. The tip of the root coiling defensively. A sound like a long hot exhale from within. A sickly-sweet stench blended with the scent of toiled earth.

Pete: So the tree was sentient. Good to have confirmation of that; gave him some idea of how to proceed.

"We're not here to hurt you," he said gently. "We won't hurt you. We just want to take this child home. He doesn't belong in this world. He belongs in our world."

Guildias: Guildias wanted to look back to Abel, but refused to remove his gaze. He would much rather have been wrong. Defense meant the capability of offense. Having any sense of emotion included anger and fear and worse.

A smaller root, hanging uselessly from the middle of the dining room ceiling began to lengthen, coiling away and tightening.

"Get away from it."

Pete/Abel: Pete didn't have to be told twice.

He took a few giant steps back from the tree, instinctively reaching for Abel and Guildias' hands.

Abel, meanwhile, had all his senses on high alert, trying to detect any hint of the little boy beneath the scent of dirt and decay.

Maybe the tree just smelled like that, or maybe they were already too late.

"Is he alive?" he asked the tree.

Guildias: Peter's elbow was gripped firmly, pushed just behind Guildias' arm. The tree his only attention.

The roots breathed again. As the one defensive coil relaxed by an inch, more roots curled. The thickest, larger than their combined mass, seemed to suck in a giant reluctant breath. Its exhale exuded more rotted stench. A low octave sound with humming vibrato. Words, but unintelligible.

Pete/Abel: A few beats of silence followed the...response? After which Pete said, "Either of you happen to speak tree?"

Abel shook his head. His face was set in serious lines, a rare display. "No. But that smell? It's either the tree itself or decomp," he said softly. It didn't necessarily mean it was the kid, but it was definitely something. That smell was unmistakable.

"Gil, any ideas on communication with sentient trees?"

Guildias: Guildias watched the root expand with every alien syllable, becoming impossibly large, beyond any tree of their world to his knowledge. It appeared wet. He suspected its surface sticky. The stench had remained consistent, but there was no conspicuous sign of a struggle, torn clothes, nor smears blood.

"Another time. Up the stairs."

Pete/Abel: Abel nodded. "All right. Come on, Petey, you heard the man."

He grabbed onto each of them and started backing out of the room, not taking his eyes off the tree until they were well clear of it. That wasn't to say one of those freakish roots couldn't stretch out and grab them but Abel felt better being away from it and the smell of death.

"Should we look in the kid's room?" Pete asked, compelled to whisper. "Might be worth a shot. There's no footprints leading this way but maybe...?"

Guildias: "Exactly why we're going upstairs." Through the kitchen, to the stairs separating the living room and kitchen. Stairs partially destroyed by roots and patched by the same. Caked dust on each step but that between the roots. Without disturbance to any of the floor, no area of the house could be overruled.

"Do you wish to sweep what remains of the first floor?" he asked Abel. "I'm more concerned with Peter's respiratory."

Pete/Abel: "Sweeping this much dust is gonna kick it up," said Abel. "I'd need to vacuum and I doubt the Umbra has power, but I'll have a looksee."

Pete shook his head. "I'm fine. Dust is the least of my worries right now. Let's just go to the kid's room. Together." This place was giving him the creeps. He spent a lot of time in the woods, surrounded by trees, but seeing all the branches holding everything together was just...unsettling.

Guildias: "Sweep - surveillance, searching, pup." He supposed his military background had caught the familiar, or this was just a familiar being idiosyncratic as usual. His tone remained patient just the same.

Pete/Abel: "Oh! You soldier types and your jargon." He gave a light smack to Guildias' arm. "In my defense, you mentioned breath--never mind. I'll give the place a once over."

"Abel, maybe you shouldn't--"

"Relax, buddy." Abel smiled. "Ain't going anywhere." He had magic; he didn't need to walk around to sweep the first floor.

He just had to listen, scent the air, put his feelers out for auras and energy signatures and other minds besides theirs. He wasn't looking to go poking around inside anyone's thoughts, he just wanted to get a feel.

For other people and for magic, and hopefully, for the little boy.

Guildias: What he sought would not be found on the first floor, but there was something. A sensation like static from the tree, damp with sentience, and if Abel were to consider above his head, where the static worsened...

Abel: Abel's brow furrowed. He turned his head to the left, waited. To the right, waited again. It wasn't coming from either direction. Then he looked up.

"We're not alone," he whispered after a moment. "I can feel something else here with us besides the tree. Up there somewhere." He pointed up the stairs. "We need to get into that room, it might be the kid. I can't quite make it out."

But first he needed to put out one more feeler so they wouldn't get a nasty surprise.

'Is anybody up there?' he thought in the direction of the second floor.

Guildias: A sleeping mind. That of a dream state. Alive, buzzing as youth often did. Peter's hand was directed to Guildias' jacket, heading up the stairs slowly, lingering on each step for a beat before attempting the next, pausing at the smallest groan of wood. The roots were no hurdle, only a humped bridge of breathing bark.

Abel: There was no response but that could be for any number of reasons. "I'm trying to talk to whoever it is," he told his companions, grabbing Pete's other hand. "They aren't saying anything back. I'll keep trying."

'We're coming up the stairs. It's okay, we aren't here to cause any harm. You're safe.' He reached out with his mind, letting the person or being's energy guide him to where they needed to go.

"This way."

Guildias: "I doubt they'd find much comfort in an invasive thought," Guildias muttered, looking back to inspect Peter's aversion of the root.

Pete/Abel: "Not barging in, Gil. Just ringing the doorbell."

Pete was trying very hard not to step on any bit that looked like it was made of tree root and being only partially successful. For all he knew the tree could feel all of them stepping on it and was waiting for the right time to strike. Maybe it was making Abel believe there was something upstairs when it was really just a trap designed to keep them all here, or worse, devour them whole.

"Are you ringing the doorbell on a person or another tree thing?"

"Jury's still out."

Guildias: "I think hearing a voice not your own in your mind is quite more than a doorbell." Had been his opinion since his most important murder.

The bedroom to the right, above the living room and kitchen, had long ago caved under the immense pressure. The bathroom visible by just a few feet. Its tile shattered and resigned from the walls. To the left, a small bedroom. The blue paint of the door crackled and chipped away. The breathing of the mother root, its stench, louder and more prominent.

Pete/Abel: "Not directly in it, just gently brushing against it. A whisper, like hearing something from far away."

Guildias probably didn't need a thorough explanation but Abel's babbling was more for his benefit than anyone else's. Anything to distract from the ruined house and smell of rotting flesh and the possibility that they were about to come upon a small little decomposing body.

"Guessing that's the one?" Pete asked, making an effort to breathe through his mouth. "Should we knock or just walk in?"

Guildias: "I'll go." Of those present, to his knowledge and current experience, Peter was most welcome in this umbral reality, but he'd risked enough.

His steps remained careful and deliberate, checking noisy floorboards as though hunting, mindful that the wrong step would dissolve their efforts.

The child's bedroom was as dust laden as the rest of the house. The roof collapsed by an enormous mother root.

Guildias reached behind for Peter. If ever there was a moment in which to keep a close grasp on the man, it was in seeing a boy, barely out of his toddling years, curled against the breathing black root, cradled between giant arm-like appendages. Eyes closed, breathing, suckling on a smaller thumb-like finger from one of the wrapped arms. This was not an appropriate moment for reflex action; perhaps his grasp of Peter was for himself.

Pete/Abel: Pete nodded. "Carefully, okay?" With the floors and everything else in the state they were in, he didn't like their odds of coming out of another altercation with those branches unscathed. Hell, he didn't like their odds of successfully walking across this floor without falling through.

He could see sky through the ceiling of the little boy's room. It had the same stench, the same lack of any sort of life apart from those damn--

"Oh..." he said softly. There he was. The little boy. Seemingly unharmed and sleeping peacefully as anything among the sentient roots.

Pete squeezed Guildias' hand just as Abel squeezed his. Much as he'd hoped this is what they would find, it was still a shock to see the kid safe. And alive.

He took a deep breath. "Thank God. We should..."

Abel nodded. "It should be you that goes and gets him."

Guildias: Abel was right, of course. Peter was the key to this going smoothly, whether he realized his capability or not. He would keep his mouth shut, being so near the entity. He hadn't realized how deep into the room he had stepped until needing Peter to take front and center.

Pete: "Guildias?" Pete barely whispered, squeezing the vampire's hand again. "How are we gonna do this?" Because he seriously doubted the tree was just going to let them take the little boy. For all that it was creepy and sentient and smelled like a rotting corpse, it seemed to be protecting him.

Guildias: "As you would... relieve an exhausted mother." The hold of the child was not hostile. There was no way to determine what was being fed to the boy, if anything. Something had rendered the child unconscious, evident by the gentle rise and fall of his stomach.

Pete: "I usually relieve an exhausted mother by taking her kids and watching them for a few hours so she can shower and sleep. But she doesn't have roots that'll kill us all for attempting to take him."

Guildias: "She's fallen asleep with her baby in her arms. I'm right behind you."

Pete/Abel: Pete took a deep breath. "Abel, any ideas?"

"Approach as non-threateningly as you can," Abel whispered. "Gil's right, the tree is protecting him. Look. It's cradling him, like a parent does. I don't think we're the only beings down here who care about that kid. Maybe that's why the tree tried to attack us downstairs. Here, let me--"

Abel took off his jacket and gave it to Pete to hold so he could take off his shirt. It was cleaner than the jacket and it would do to keep the little boy warm until they could get out of here.

Guildias: Guildias remained between them, kept his eyes on the root, studied its breathing, location of every hung and piled root, its grip on the child. He considered every possible angle, every reaction. They were in the heart of this house. Magic was unpredictable here. All of this on the suggestion of a Ravnos. He almost wanted to laugh at the absurdity.

Pete/Abel: Abel handed his shirt to Pete and put his jacket back on. "Remember, Petey, non-threatening. Come from a gentle, caring place, not a 'rescuing a tiny prince from a dragon' kind of place. The tree's kept that little kid safe down here and for that, I think it deserves our respect."

Pete nodded. Abel was right; whatever the circumstances, the tree was caring for that child. He turned to Guildias. "You have any advice?"

Guildias: Guildias forced half of his attention back to the pair, gestured with his free hand to keep their voices low. One of the reasons he was of few words.

"No. Fall back if something happens."

Pete: Another nod. "Okay," he whispered, taking a silent deep breath. Despite his apprehension, it didn't take much effort to approach the tree from a caring, gentle place. All he could see when he looked at that little boy was Graham. He couldn't begin to imagine how he'd feel if it were his nephew down here, lost and scared and away from everyone who loved him.

He had to bring this kid back to his parents.

Pete approached as slowly as he could, intending to crouch down when he was close enough and bundle up the kid.

Guildias: Still and silent he watched, ready to snatch for whatever bit of clothing he could fist. The surface objective was this child, but for the sake of others it was the well-being of the man in front of him. A promise not only to Callum, but the avoidance of Ravnos ire.

The tree exhaled a familiar musky odor. Contempt in its shiver for Peter's nearness. The child was lifted to a standing height, roughly shy of Peter's shoulders, and bundled with thin wispy black roots. The frequency of its rattling hiss turned Guildias' head in mild discomfort. Reminded him of a rattle snake. It was almost language, but the intent was clear.

Pete: Pete didn't let himself get agitated or make any sudden movements; he imagined he was in the serenity garden in the woods and forced himself to stay calm.

"I know you care about him," he said softly. "I know you've kept him safe and warm while he's been down here with you. If his mother knew that, she'd be grateful for it. She'd be grateful you kept her baby safe. She and his father miss him, they love him. He belongs up there with them, on the other side. I'm not here to hurt you, or him. I just want to take him back to his family."

Guildias: Peter's phrasing left him wondering. Was this, in fact, down or parallel to their reality? The association of down with Hell gave him pause. This was extrinsic, but nothing he could associate with the nightmares of Hell itself. Those of this reality must find their own as alien.

The sentient tree exhaled vibrations akin to words. Watching thin dark roots slowly covering the child's face and neck, a curious realization began to dawn on him.

Peter was slowly released; Abel pulled to replace him. He began to circle the enormous girth.

Pete/Abel: Both Pete and Abel looked to Guildias with identical looks of confusion.

"Gil, what are you doing?" Abel whispered, trying to move his lips as little as possible. It didn't seem like a good idea to draw attention to themselves when Pete was trying to reason with the tree. "We're at a delicate point in the process."

Guildias: "Hush." He placed his hand on the wall as a guide. The air between them thick enough to lose sight of all but their outline. He looked behind the tree, then turned towards the door, intent on inspecting the next set of sagging sleeping roots.

Pete: All right, okay, Guildias was doing this. Whatever the hell this was. Abel very much wanted to ask him what he was doing again but decided against it. He could always think it at him, but they probably wouldn’t be well received.

He’d just go with what was happening and keep one eye on Pete and the other on Guildias and keep his supernatural senses on the tree and the kid.

Guildias: There was a connection between what was happening to the child and the unpleasant lingering odor. He would not yet voice suspicions without evidence. He'd keep his hand to the wall, ribbed along a curtain of inky roots shivering from his dead touch. They recoiled, dissatisfied with what little they could learn from him. He watched, touched again, and then breathed life into his body. The shivers and low frequency hisses calmed with his growing warmth.

Guildias continued down the hallway, brushed his fingers along where a window should be, long since broken, dust covered, mostly replaced by the same living root.

The bathroom near the stairs. The same stench. He peered inside and waited for his eyes to adjust to the darkness, irises becoming pale.

He almost missed it. A thin gray hoof peeking from a massive swallowing root. All that remained of an ungulate mammal.

Keeping his movements calm, Guildias turned, replaced his right hand to the wall and began the short journey back.

Pete/Abel: While Guildias did his thing, Pete debated his own next move. He'd said his piece to the tree and the tree hadn't seemed particularly receptive. It didn't seem particularly receptive to Guildias either, so saying more would only risk pissing it off and making it attack one of them or worse, hurt that little boy.

So...all he could do was wait.

He was doing a much better job of that than Abel, who was starting to feel antsy. Should he mentally ask Guildias what was happening? Probably not. He hadn't seemed thrilled with the idea of mental communication earlier.

Guildias: For a moment, Guildias wondered if the rooms had changed. The hallway felt longer than his initial roam. By at least twenty feet. The floor was layered by a thick blanket of roots. They breathed, reaching like long skeletal fingers for his boots, gripping with anemic strength to his clothes.

He reached down to brush away a particularly curious root. A gambler's knife, wrapped tightly in black tape, was pulled from his boot.

"Get away from it," he called, keeping his voice above a whisper.

Abel: Abel didn't need telling twice. He barely needed telling once, already on edge and itching to do something when he heard Guildias' voice. A voice that was absolutely not whispering like it had been before which meant something bad had happened.

He grabbed Pete's arm and yanked him a few giant steps back. "What?! What is it!?"

Guildias: "Follow my voice." He reached out into the mist, his knife-hand to the wall to continue guiding him back to the little bedroom.

Pete/Abel: "Follow--okay." Abel wouldn't question or hesitate, he just grabbed Pete's arm and held it tight. "Okay, okay. Come on, Petey."

Any hesitation was on Pete's part. It didn't feel right leaving the little boy behind, even if it was only for a short while. At least he hoped so. He also hoped to God that Guildias had an actual plan because what they had tried thus far just wasn't going to cut it. The Umbra might have accepted them, the tree might be standing down, but no way in hell was it going to let them leave with the kid just like that. They weren't that lucky.

Still, he'd do as he was asked; holding onto Abel with one hand and reaching out for Guildias with the other. "Keep talking so we can find you."

Guildias: What he grabbed was warmer than root, and fleshy. He assumed Abel for no reason. He pulled. Keeping close to the wall, he pulled his foot, breaking several clingy bits of brittle bark.

"Have you two remained in each other's sights?"

Pete/Abel: It was Pete’s hand, and it squeezed Guildias’ and held tight.

“Yes,” said Pete.

Abel nodded whether Guildias could see him for not. “The whole time, scout’s honor. What have you been doing? Are you okay?”

“What was that noise?” Pete looked around at the walls, the ceiling, the floor.

Guildias: He would answer all questions with a single-minded explanation. "I've regarded it as Mother of this house. If so, it's the kind of mother that eats her children. Loves them to death. What was it doing to the child last you saw?"

Pete/Abel: “Fucking fantastic,” Abel muttered under his breath.

Pete felt his heart leap into his throat. “It was covering him in more roots. Little ones, like it was trying to hide him. I thought it was trying t—we have to go back in there. We have to go, right now!”

Guildias: "I'm thinking we will be its next children if we don't act soon."

Pete: “Great, what do we do? Got a hatchet so we can cut the kid free?”

Guildias: "Can you conjure a hatchet?" Another root was pulled from his shoe. He lowered to give similar treatment to the pair.

Pete/Abel: “Magic works differently here but I can try,” said Abel. “Pete, you got anything hatchet-like?”

“I’ve got a pocketknife.”

Abel turned to Guildias. “Do you need the hatchet for the roots or for something else?” He needed to know how strong the blade needed to be. Altering was easier than conjuring; there was a slightly better chance of being able to magically alter Pete’s knife than conjuring up something else entirely.

Guildias: "It's for you... and what you're going to do to me." Guildias sat up again. "Don't remain stagnant." He began to remove his jacket, handed to Peter to wear or hold.

"If you're going to make attempt, do so now."

Pete/Abel: “Don’t remain—?” Right, the creepy fucking roots trying to mother them to death. Couldn’t stay still and let them.

“What exactly are we going to do?” Pete asked, accepting the jacket while Abel rooted around in his bag for the knife.

Guildias: "You're going to be quick taking the child. It should be occupied by mine and Abel's efforts. When he takes the child, Abel," he paused to make sure he was heard, "you need to be the leader back to the exit. Understood?"

Abel: Abel gave Guildias his full attention right up until he nodded that he understood. He didn't know what the vampire planned to do but he had to trust him; there was no room for hesitation or uncertainty on this side of the Veil.

"Pete, give me your wrist. I put three beacon crystals on you, there are three of us, and I'm not leaving anything to chance." He took the crystal from one of Pete's wrist and put it on Guildias'. The crystal on the chain was taken for himself. "Remember we have our other pendants that are warm when we're together. Tuck those into your shirts so you can feel them." He held up the knife. "Gil, I need you to tell me exactly what this is going to cut so I can make it strong enough."

Guildias: Guildias felt for Abel's gifts and nodded. He told himself this was an irrational leap, but the alternative was failure and it would haunt Peter for too long. If they tried to snatch the child, it could be as mothered as the unfortunate in the bathroom. Their efforts already brought the child closer to his death.

This was arduous no matter the plan. Efficiency was key.

Guildias began rolling the sleeve of his left arm. Two thin scars peeked from his shoulder.

"You're going to remove all of this. It'll be easier as you go along."

Pete/Abel: Pete's eyes widened. "Your arm? You want Abel to cut off your whole arm?!"

Abel blew out a long breath and tried to concentrate on the magic and not on the fact that he was pretty sure Pete was right and Guildias meant for him to lop off his arm. What he planned to do with the arm, Abel had no earthly or godly idea but dammit, this knife was going to do the job. No hesitation, no uncertainty.

He'd just hurl later.

Guildias: "Compose yourself. It'll grow back. We don't have time to be repulsed."

Pete: There was so much wrong with that statement Pete didn't know where to even begin. But Guildias was right, they were up against the clock at the moment.

"Fine, fine. What exactly are we going to do with you down an arm?"

Guildias: "You won't do anything. Your focus is the child, and ignoring everything else. Look away if you need to."

Pete: "Dude, we've gotta stop doing things that scar me for life when we hang out."

Guildias: "I'll always disturb you. We're on opposite sides of the page."

His gaze returned to Abel. "Are you ready?"

Pete/Abel: "You're a lot less disturbing when you've got all your parts attached."

Abel was deep in concentration and thus didn't answer. A hatchet sure as hell would've made the task easier and if he wanted to avoid carving that arm off like a butcher with a turkey, he knew he had to do his best to get this knife as close to one as possible.

He closed his eyes and held the blade in both hands, silently moving his lips as he recited a spell. The blade would lengthen, grow stronger, and fall heavier. Not a hatchet, but as close as he trusted himself to get. He was just grateful it seemed to work in this unpredictable environment.

"At the shoulder or the elbow?" he asked at long last.

Guildias: Guildias had intended shoulder, but he looked one last time to reconsider.

"Shoulder," he affirmed. He needed something he knew would be a worthy distraction. A little smaller than the child, but formidable.

"Ignore what I do next." He had to concentrate on his own spell. One he had to pull from memories from another body. A spell deliverable in every language, more potent in its original form, but tonight, spoken in the tongue of a former devoted student.

He reached for Peter, ignored his hand and squeezed his jacket. When the edge of the blade dug into dead flesh, he began to whisper in hissed, stuttered Hindi.

Pete/Abel: "Copy that," Abel sighed, steeling his nerve. He had to put some distance between himself and what he was about to do or he'd never be able to do it. "Petey, close your eyes and cover your ears, okay?"

This was venison. He was carving into venison, not the flesh of a friend. He'd done it a hundred times with his grandma and with his old mistress. He was just preparing dinner and definitely not separating this man's arm from his body with a magically enhanced blade.

Thankfully, the lack of blood helped that particular delusion.

Pete was way ahead of him. He was being flooded by deja vu, thinking back to the Draegan house and the last time he'd had to shield himself against something awful. The last time Guildias had tried to shield him from something awful.

Guildias: The Setite refused to scream. Forced his prayer to continue, stumbling from Hindi to Coptic and back with a slam of his fist to the living wall. The roots shivered and lashed defensively, retreated by an inch to avoid another bashing.

The drooped frozen fingers began to move, twisting backward and forward in sharp unnatural convulses.

"raakshason kee maata. raakshason kee maata."

His head bowed, loose strands hiding his face as he dry-heaved. Words hissed and spat as dead flesh mangled itself and reshaped, thickening as it gurgled like a monstrous coo of a child.

"Get the child." Blindly, he offered his knife to Peter. "Move."

Pete/Abel: "You're okay, Gil. You're okay, promise."

God, the noises. It was like when he'd gone hunting with Callum's family only a million times worse knowing it was Callum's husband and not an animal.

Pete only dared open his eyes when he was certain the cutting noises had stopped but he still didn't look. There were other noises happening and he really didn't want to know what was making them. He just kept his head turned and his feet moving and told himself there was nothing out of the ordinary.

He was off like a shot when Guildias gave him the word, just barely managing to take the knife from him in his haste to get back into the room and back to the kid. Pete had no fucking idea what was happening but what he did know was that he was going to cut that child free of those creepy fucking branches and take him back to family come hell or high water.

You can't have him. I won't let you. I'm taking him back.

Guildias: Peter was not alone. Guildias stumbled behind, keeping Abel within sight, but it was not the vampire trailing at the Gurahl's heels. The screech of what followed rang through the desolate house and down the Setite's throat. His intent woven into its resolute action. A hideous taupe creature a quarter Peter's height slithered on its thick lepidote tail and two bony hand-like appendages. Fangs curved and so large it could not close its mouth. Its tiny claws dug and splintered the hardwood floor to propel itself. Torso violently undulating with every snatch of the floor. Its breathing came rapid, chittering with sanguineous excitement.

It waited impatiently for Peter to attempt for the child before throwing itself upon the sagging mother root with a scream so shrill Guildias would swear hurt his eyes. It tore at the smaller surrounding roots. Sunk its fangs into fleshy bark and clawed like a rabid animal. The tree reacted quickly. Exhaling a stench so foul the air became thick and acrid. Desperate roots from above and below whipped at the creature, tried to grab its unruly tail. Its new insolent child was enough to occupy its conscious.

Pete/Abel: Ungodly. That was the only way Pete could describe the noises and the screeching and the sensations creeping over his skin as surely as if whatever was behind him were crawling all over him. It didn't matter what horrible magic Guildias had done to help him and he sure as hell wasn't about to look and find out.

Not when it gave that blood-curdling shriek that threatened to scramble his brain or tore at the roots and made the tree release a stench that could be nothing but the smell of rotting, burning Hell itself. Pete just kept his eyes on that little boy, wrapping him in Abel's shirt and tucking him close to protect him from the stench and the screaming and the few remaining roots that clung desperately to any part of him that they could before Abel stepped in to slice them away.

"We're going now! NOW!"

Guildias: Guildias swallowed down the false effort of breathing. He wanted no part of that stench. The guardianship of his monster was relinquished to the tree. Whatever it intended to do was or no consequence, so long as they reached the way out.

Don't stop. Not for the clingy roots or the noises upstairs. Keep moving.

Abel: That's exactly what Abel planned to do. He wanted out of this upside down, creepy ass Alice in Wonderland nightmarish hellscape and the smell of decomposing flesh and god only knew what else.

"GIL, HOLD ON TO PETE WITH YOUR ONLY HAND, PETE HOLD ON TO ME WITH YOUR FREE ONE LET'S GO!"

Down the crumbly stairs and over all the holes and rotting wood and dust to the gate. If a tiny part of him wondered if that fucking tree had the power to close the entrance it was quickly and viciously tramped down. He had even less time to dwell on that than he'd had to dwell on Guildias' missing arm.

Guildias: When this was finished, Guildias intended to have a laugh at Abel's choice of words. Seemed quite appropriate for a familiar. Just a little too obnoxious.

He held to the back of Peter's clothing, glanced back to observe the shriveling roots, reflecting the upstairs turmoil.

Abel: This couldn't be over soon enough. It almost seemed like the house had grown somehow while they'd been upstairs, no doubt having intended to trap them all here until it could absorb them into its maw. Made perfect sense now why this place smelled like decomp.

It wasn't like decomp, it was decomp, from what were probably untold masses of beings from their realm and countless others who'd had the misfortune of getting trapped here with that tree since time immemorial.

But not them.

They had arrived at the exit. Abel climbed through as quickly as he could, shouting for whoever was near to help him pull out Pete and Guildias and the little boy.

MJ/Rosmond: MJ looked back towards the sound, hesitant to move due to the camera. Rosmond was Abel's first responder, grabbing hold of what he could see and pulling with calculated strength. Now was not the time to begin questioning the strange sticky substance covering their bodies from head-to-toe.

Pete/Abel: Having known what to expect the second time around, Pete did his best to shield his face and the kid’s from the Umbra lube, as Abel had proclaimed it. If he couldn’t shield himself completely, then at least he could for the kid, who was safely bundled in Abel’s shirt and half tucked into Pete’s jacket.

The first thing Pete did as soon as they were free—after wiping his face as best he could—was check to make sure the kid was breathing and okay.

Guildias/Rosmond: Guildias' eyes remained closed as he emerged. His missing limb went unnoticed as Rosmond inspected the child, only taking pause when he caught the Setite holding an empty space at his shoulder.

He would ask later.

"We were not here. Leave the child in the grass. Don't touch anything on the way out."

Pete: Pete was only half paying attention to Rosmond.

He needed to see that tiny little chest moving up and down with each breath, needed to feel the reassuring thump of a pulse in that tiny little wrist.

“You’re okay, buddy,” he whispered, using the shirt to clean off any goop that had managed to cover the boy. He wasn’t sure if this was why Abel had asked him to bring an extra sweater, but this was as good a reason as any to finally take it out of his bag.

Spring was right around the corner but it was still chilly at night and in the mornings. Too chilly for a little boy to just be out here in his pajamas. He’d survived the Umbra and a sentient tree; Pete wasn’t about to let the elements get him.

Guildias/Rosmond: Guildias turned to check the wall for residue. Rosmond was right of course; there could be no suspicion. They'd covered most of their tracks; the last mile was the most arduous.

Rosmond studied the child and Peter's worried brow, assessed their quiet acquaintance and turned back.

"A message to Charon and an anonymous phone call will be made. None of us are doctors. You must trust the plan."

A gentler, less chilly approach was required. This much Guildias understood, placing his hand on Peter's shoulder.

"Calloway or I can stay and watch from the woods, but the child is not under Rosmond's influence."

Pete: “I’m not leaving him,” Pete said softly, bundling the little boy into the sweater as gently as if he were a newborn. “I’m not going anywhere until this child is back in his mother’s arms. I’ll watch from the woods.”

Guildias: "They will search these woods. I'm at no strength to conceal you."

Abel: "I am," Abel finally piped up. "I can hide us with magic, we don't even have to rely on the cover of the trees."

MJ/Rosmond: "That FBI SUV's gotta go," said MJ.

"I can trust you to keep them safe, Mr. Harrington?" Rosmond stared forwardly.

Abel: "You can bet your life on it, Rosmond. I have all kinds of tricks up my sleeve." And demonic backup just a thought away as well as in his pockets.

MJ/Guildias/Rosmond: Rosmond studied those eyes, finding nothing of fault, he nodded. Turned his expression on Guildias.

"You're coming with me. Mr. Calloway-"

"I got em. I'll text ya."

Another nod. The two began to retrace their steps back to the SUV. Only a glance back from the Setite.

Abel: Abel gave Guildias a smile and a wave. “See you soon, Gil. Sorry about the whole...” He gestured at where the vampire’s arm was supposed to be. “I’ll make it up to you after I get very drunk and repress that memory.”

MJ: "Told y'all not t'come back armless. What the fuck happ - after. After. We gotta put him down somewhere noticeable."

Pete/Abel: "You had to go and put it out there," Abel muttered, digging in his pockets. After would have to wait for both the boy to be found, Abel to get drunk, and several days to pass. He needed time to process what the hell kind of night he was having.

Pete was already carrying the little boy to the front porch. He couldn't bring himself to leave him on the lawn; made more sense that he'd fall asleep on the porch after wandering out of the woods. That's the story he assumed Rosmond and Prince were going to go with, and as far as mysteries went, it was the simplest.

MJ/Rosmond: The point, Rosmond believed, was not to implement the family and have the child taken away on suspicions. Whatever the intention, in truth he did not care. The call would be made by Charon saying a child had been spotted. From there it was out of their hands. This mission had been about the people within, not the child in Peter's arms. His assessment found him impressed with Guildias' willingness of both life and limb. Everyone in some capacity played their role well.

MJ gently tugged on Peter's sleeve, encouraging him from the slumbering little boy. The sweater had to go. Fuck if he could tell if any hair had transferred from Peter. A last minute thought.

"You're probably leavin' trace." He looked to Abel. "Is there anything ya can do?"

Pete/Abel: Pete didn't move. He couldn't. He was frozen to the spot, imagining all the ways this could've gone so much worse than it did, seemingly unable to keep from picturing Mary and Graham in the clutches of that tree.

Abel nodded at MJ. "I'll cut the labels from the sweater so it can't be ID'ed. Feel like slipping in and seeing if they have tape or a lint roller? I'll keep Petey company."

MJ: "Easier t'just take the damn thing. I dunno how long them people are gonna stay asleep."

Abel: Abel subtly nodded toward Pete and gave MJ a look that said that wasn’t going to happen.

“Be fast. Most people keep lint rollers in the laundry room.”

MJ: "I can't magic away a hair of yours in his own. They'll comb it, Peter. Don't hover over him."

Abel: “Wait, I can—ugh, this night.” For a moment he’d forgotten he could teleport. “I’ll go, you stay.”

And he was gone.

MJ: "Well no shit!" The fuck happened, he thought. All three of them with flies and haze in their head. Faraway looks in their eyes. Lack of critical thinking.

"Y'all were only in there five minutes. What was it?"

Pete: Pete finally looked up, brow furrowed slightly, as though deep in thought.

“It was five minutes for you?”

MJ: "Yeah... So how long was it?"

Pete: “I don’t know. Longer.”

MJ: "Kay. Where was it?"

Pete: “Here, but different. Wrong.”

MJ: "God y'all are rubbin' off on me. Where was he?"

Pete/Abel: “In his room with the tree.”

Abel reappeared in almost the exact same spot he’d disappeared from with lint roller in hand.

“Back! Okay okay okay.” He began gently—and quickly—going over the sweater, paying close attention to the areas most likely to have any stray Pete hairs. Chances were that any hairs would come up very bear-like when examined but even so, it paid to be on the safe side.

MJ: "In a room with the tree. Okay. We gotta move him to the front of the house. I'll finish with the cam here. Wait for me 'round the corner. Don't go t'the front yet."

Abel: Abel nodded. “Yeah, yeah, okay. Just let me...” He carefully cut the label off the neck of the sweater. “Okay, done. Come on, Petey, let’s go wait for MJ.”

MJ: The backyard was untouched. No one had been there. The final bit of illusion belonged to the front yard, moving carefully to the next camera for the same treatment. The child was given a once over. Something of his likeness needed to walk from the eastern woods to the porch and lay in the most natural position Peter could place him. Had to be natural, he reminded. Not swaddled.

Pete/Abel: Pulling the sweater over the little boy's head--after Abel had smeared some dirt on it to make it seem like it had been found in the woods--was as natural as Pete could make it. On his side, with the too-long sleeves providing some cushion for his head.

"How's that?"

MJ: It would have to do. "Kay. Let's go." With little consideration, he took hold of Peter's hand and tugged. Free hand still directed towards the last camera, praying to no one that he'd maintained concentration enough.

Pete/Abel: Pete was still reluctant to go but he knew it would do no good to linger. What that kid needed more than anything else in the world was to be back with his family and if all went well, he would be before long.

"Come on, Petey," said Abel. "He'll be okay. Let's head for those bushes there so I can hide us until he's found."

MJ: MJ was last to follow, walking backwards carefully until reaching the woods. Certain that Abel could shield him when the moment was right. Finally dropping his hand, he took an unneeded breath and made the text to Rosmond.

Abel: Of course Abel could shield them; he was Xavier Atlas' familiar. Half his time was spent breaking into some house or private collection or another with his master. Pulling one over on human cops? Just another day.

When they were all settled, he took a talisman from his pocket and began murmuring a chant. He'd done it without the talisman before but it was a good safety net just in case. If anyone were to look in their direction once he was finished, all they would see would be shadows.

"And now we wait."

MJ: Not his first time observing Abel's magic. He made it look so effortless. So real. Far better than his version of concealment, having to memorize surroundings in order to mimic. Superior magic. For now.

Still waiting. And would wait for some time. After Rosmond had made certain to place distance between his vehicle and the house.

"Ya good, Peter?"

Pete: Pete shrugged, only half paying attention to what Abel was doing or how much time had passed. His eyes and his brain were glued to the porch.

“Been worse.”

MJ: "The call's been made. Just a little longer."

Abel: Abel wrapped an arm around Pete’s shoulder and squeezed. “Hear that? Won’t be long now. Then we can get a huge bottle of tequila and process our PTSD.”

MJ: "Y'all make it sound like y'all came outta Hell."

Abel: “We didn’t not not go to Hell, at least that’s what it felt like. I cut off a man’s arm. It’s been a stressful night.”

MJ: "You cut Guildias up?"

Abel: Abel gave a single nod. "He asked me to."

MJ: "Fuckin' why?"

Abel: "To save the kid from a horrifying sentient tree."

MJ: "Just threw his fuckin' arm at it?"

Abel: He shook his head. “Not exactly. It—he did...something and his arm wasn’t...an arm anymore. It was something else and that—something distracted the tree so we could grab the kid and get the hell out of that creepy Alice in Wonderland hellscape.”

MJ: "Huh." Maybe that was why Rosmond spoke the way he did, and why he'd been suggested for the mission. Another reason, he thought.

Abel: “Then there was the Umbra lube and the dust that didn’t behave like dust should behave and the smell of the decomposing flesh of the other unfortunate beings who’d found themselves in the clutches of the tree and been mothered to death by it.”

MJ: "Sounds like a Tool video." He tried to laugh. Came more as a cough.

Abel: “God I wish. That would’ve been easier to deal with. And less scarring.”

MJ: "Since when'd ya ever watch -" Hands clasped down on Peter and Abel's shoulders. Tires. Old, terrible oil. Had to be the oldest damn squad car he'd ever seen. He braced himself between the two men, half-standing and ready to react.

Abel: "In that dive bar in Colorado with that dude with the skunk stripes in his hair."

Abel turned toward the sound of the car and sighed. Finally. "Don't worry, they won't be able to hear us. We'll sound like wind to them."

MJ: "Baby boy's been found. So we should..." MJ considered a moment, dropped his hand from Peter's shoulder. "Mafia gave ya lookin' glass. The loupe. Check it."

Pete/Abel: Pete seemed to stir from a trance that broke the moment MJ moved his hand. His attention was still focused on the boy and the house, and he wasn't ready to move until he saw the parents come out and hug their child.

"Looking glass? Oh, right." He reached into his pocket and pulled out the loupe.

"Want to check the portal?" Abel asked.

MJ: "Yeah. Or this'll just start again."

Pete: Pete held up the loupe and turned in the direction from which they'd come, holding there for a moment before scanning the rest of the house.

"I don't see anything. Does that mean it closed?"

MJ: "Guess so. Rosmond would know more. S'why I went t'them. We make our money differently."

Pete: Some of the tension drained from Pete's shoulders. He still wasn't thrilled about how much information the prince had, but knowing that damn portal had closed made him feel a lot better about this whole situation.

"You made the right call. On Rosmond and on going in to save the kid. Thank you."

MJ: "Ya hate him, right? Rosmond. Gertrude. Ya hate em on my behalf or some shit." He watched the cop as he continued to bang on the front door. Lights upstairs switching on. Sirens in the distance.

Pete: Pete shook his head. “I don’t hate them. I dislike what they represent and I resent it, but I don’t hate them. Hating takes energy I’d rather spend on something else.”

Some more tension eased as the house started waking up. Soon, very soon.

MJ: "I know a little thing 'bout artful wordin'." His eyes fell to the bracken. "Part of the job. I don't hate any of em, either."

Abel was given a pat. "Let's start backin' out."

Pete/Abel: “I know it sounds like bull,” Pete sighed. “But it’s the truth. I have no beef with the mafia lieutenant or with the don.”

Abel shook his head. “Not yet. We haven’t gotten our emotional resolution yet.”

MJ: "Then read a book! Probably gonna put em on an ambulance, first."

Abel: "They better," said Abel. "No telling what he went through before we got there." He caught MJ's eye and gave him a look. 'Petey needs this,' he thought to him. 'All this struck close to home.'

MJ: 'Why though?' He didn't mean to seem callous, but their priorities were going in separate directions. His job had been the outside of the house, their mission finished in five minutes from his perspective. His urgency was in leaving, and the safety of the crouching men.

Abel: 'He's got a nephew and a little baby niece. Their photos are all over his house, they've got their own room for when they stay over. I saw his face in there. He was looking at the little boy but he was seeing his family.'

MJ: 'Too long.' A thought for himself, projected accidentally. Peter's reaction solidified his reason for being so adamant about renewing their relationship. A few years and circumstances had changed them into different men. The fumbling angry boys at a carnival were ghosts.

MJ took a step back, slowly retreating in their initial direction.

Abel: 'What's too long? Hey, don't move! This spell's got a range and it's not that big!'

MJ: MJ took to crouching a ways away, where Abel began his mental shout. Still watchful, ready to protect, but from here he felt more perceptive.

Pete: Pete was completely unaware of the silent conversation happening around him. He was too busy watching the house and the lights from the police cars, listening for the approach of an ambulance.

Despite the presence of help, he still didn't feel completely at ease. That wouldn't happen until that little boy's mother finally came out of the house. Pete watched the confusion and delight and relief play over her face as she was briefed by the officers and finally, finally got to hold her baby again. He heard her grateful prayers and thanks through her sobs and finally breathed a sigh of relief.

"We can go now," he said.

MJ: Peter was ready, at last. His willingness to engage loosened a knot in MJ's shoulder. He wanted to reach for him again. Take his hand and pull him under his arm and back them way they came. They would do all of that, but not hand-in-hand. He wanted to, but the gesture in the moment felt empty.

"Come on, then."

Abel: "And that has made this all worth it," Abel said cheerfully, getting to his feet and helping Pete do the same. "Okay, everyone grab a hand. We going back to Pete's?"

MJ: "Sure." What he really wanted was a large rock in the middle of a lake to lay on. Smoke a cigarette and listen to stories of the world he'd been denied. He wanted to watch Guildias grow his arm back. Listen to Peter's voice and fall asleep with Abel's head in his lap.

Pete/Abel: “Actually...” Pete looked between them. “Can we go to the river? I want a swim.”

Abel nodded. “Sure. You and MJ can swim and I’ll get us some supplies and we can get really drunk.”

MJ: "Y'all get really drunk." He shouldn't have been surprised by Peter's request, but its lost familiarity took him from his guard. "Let's do it. Behind Callum's place is safe."

Abel: “We’ll get drunk for us and for Gil and for you.” Abel took their hands and gave them each a squeeze.

“Brace yourselves.”

He gave them a moment and in an instant, the burgeoning crime scene was replaced by Callum’s dock and the tranquility of the river.

MJ: Not a moment after his feet landed upon soft grass did he begin to strip of his heavy jacket and boots. Hopping on one foot to remove socks and waddle towards the dock while arguing with his old belt. A trail of evidence left behind without once looking back towards the house.

Pete/Abel: Pete followed soon after, but not without taking a moment for the world (and his stomach) to settle. Impossible to get used to that feeling.

“You okay, Petey?”

Pete nodded. “Yep, I’m good. I’m gonna...” He gestured toward the river.

“Yes, swim. I’ll be back.”

And Abel disappeared again.

MJ: MJ remained crouched at the very edge of the dock. Arms against his knees as he watched the water. Waited for Peter to join him, looking over his shoulder to smile.

Pete: Finally being able to take off clothes covered in Umbra slime was the best Pete had felt all night. There was no way in hell a wash was going to save these. They needed burning.

He sighed in relief as he went to join MJ. “What?” he chuckled.

MJ: "Ya ever seen that film, uh, Poltergeist?"

Pete: “Yep, and I’ve hated clowns ever since.”

MJ: "That's you right now, with the shit all over ya."

Pete: “Goddamn Umbra lube. Felt like I was being waterboarded when we first went in. Ready to get it off.”

Without ceremony, he leapt into the water.

MJ: MJ watched a moment, as though waiting for something to happen. Some unforeseen reaction. Only when Peter emerged did he drop with dead weight into the water.

Pete: Pete’s entire body seemed to sigh in relief. The river felt just as good as any shower, maybe even better. Cold be damned.

“Fucking—it’s in my chest hair!”

MJ: "It sure is." He reached for his chest and flinched back - tried to play his retreat back by combing his own hair.

Pete: “Ugh...” He scrubbed at his skin, trying to get it off and trying not to notice that MJ had wanted to touch him.

“My skin and the water around me aren’t reacting, right?”

MJ: "Can't tell, honestly. Ain't got that sweet ass night vision like ya."

Pete: He scrubbed some more. “Well, no itching, burning, or glowing so far. I’ll take that as a good sign.”

MJ: "Guildias'll probably keep some, or Rosmond'll make him keep some. For science n'shit."

Pete: Pete squeezed some slime out of his facial hair and examined it closely. "I wonder what actual science would come up with if this stuff was tested. I'm guessing the kind of science they would do is actually magic."

MJ: "The kinda shit Giovanni do is like Frankenstein's madhouse. Science n'magic sorta become the same shit."

Pete: "I've been to Frankenstein's madhouse, it sucks."

MJ: "Talkin' 'bout Umbra?"

Pete: He nodded. "Yeah. Worse place I've ever been and I was in a microscopic part of it."

MJ: "I can't say from experience it's better or worse. It reflects. That's all I got."

Pete: "Sure does, like a funhouse mirror from hell." Some more scrubbing at his skin and hair and back below the surface he went.

MJ: "Ya know-" He'd wait for his return. "If ya feel that gross just go take a shower. His place is right there."

Pete: Pete shook the water from his head. “I’ll get around to it. I wanted a swim first. You know my thing with the river, always helps clear my head.”

MJ: "Yeah. Got a love-hate relationship with em."

Pete: “You currently on the love side or the hate side?”

MJ: "Got love for it right now."

Pete: “Glad to hear it.” Pete shifted to float on his back and heaved a long, content sigh.

“....So this whole time Guildias has been able grow limbs back like a lizard?”

MJ: Peter was watched for a moment before joining, staring at the sky. "We call can."

Pete: “Wait, seriously?! Is it magic or?”

MJ: "I mean, it's the blood. Takes a bunch, but he'll be his old cobra-self in no time."

Pete: “It’s crazy isn’t it? All blood does for the living is get oxygen everywhere so tissue and organs stay alive. Give some to a vampire and limbs grow back.”

MJ: "The moon's a rock in outer space n'ya become a fuckin' bear."

Pete/Abel: He snorted. "Touche. Never thought life would be so goddamn weird."

The rustle of plastic bags and clinking of bottles signaled Abel's return. "I'm back! I've got tequila and snacks and a snack for MJ!"

MJ: MJ looked towards the sound and smiled again.

"Your wrist? Fuckin' delicious."

Abel: "Nope, not mine, although good to know I have the appeal to you that a cheeseburger does to me. How would you feel about a taste of our own lovely Isabel, who was all moony-eyed over you going into the netherworld on a rescue mission? Don't worry, I didn't tell her you didn't actually go in."

MJ: "Mm, moon-y blood. Probably tastes better. I mean way better. It's Isabel."

A wink to Peter. Harmless teasing, he swears.

"Hey, I kept y'all from gettin' caught. The mafia and I are essential workers!"

Pete/Abel: Pete gave a good-natured chuckle. “I’m gonna go ahead and guess that Isabel is cute?”

Abel nodded. “Oh yeah, super cute with an adorable accent. She’s from Mexico.” He grinned over at MJ as he started unpacking the bags. “Damn right, Aquaman. You earned this moony blood and Petey earned his tequila. Come and get it.”

MJ: MJ climbed back onto the docks, allowing his feet to dangle.

"Ya know the whole 'if ya don't use it ya lose it'? She keeps me honest with my Spanish." He didn't have his mother and sister to speak to anymore. Not like that. The quick texts he could manage in good conscience with Kenna were in English. No phone call in years now.

"So what ya do with all the uh... goo?" he pointed over Abel's body.

Pete/Abel: After allowing himself one more dunk, Pete followed suit. It wasn't a shower and it was cold as fuck but the water felt great.

"We all need someone like that," he said as he hoisted himself up. "My mentor and his family still help me with my French." He accepted the bottle of tequila from Abel with a grateful nod.

Abel looked down at his chest. Most of the slime was gone but some still remained. "Isabel sprayed me off with the hose in the garden after Xavier took a sample."

MJ: "Of course he did." MJ smiled privately to Peter. "Sprayed ya down with a fuckin' hose. I love our life."

MJ glanced back to the house one last time, expecting a light; expecting to see Rosmond's SUV round the corner. Too soon. Abel had taken advantage of fewer numbers and now they'd have some explaining to do to Callum should he spot them first.

He kept those thoughts to himself and enjoyed a bit of Isabel.

Pete/Abel: Pete chuckled to himself. 'Took a sample' sounded like Rosmond and Gertrude weren't going to be the only ones doing some magic-science.

"Hey, it did the job. Petey, I got us some goldfish and hot fries and nachos. And stuff to turn the tequila into margaritas!"

A laugh this time. "You brought margarita supplies?"

"Hells yeah! Want one?"

"Hit me."

MJ: "Fuck, how much did ya fuckin' buy?" It all smelled... interesting. Food but not food. Familiar but unwholesome. A scent of memories and nothing more.

Abel: "A good bit. We've earned it." The only thing he hadn't bought was ice but that was no problem for someone with magic; as long as he had the essentials, they were golden. "Some lime juice, some salt, some tequila, and a dash of magic combined in the finest cocktail shaker the liquor store could offer. We shake it up." He shook it. "And we've got some much-earned catharsis. Hand me a solo cup."

MJ: MJ handed the cup over, watching the river as he supped. He could smell everything described and then some. Still smell the moisture of Umbra over Abel's skin and hair; could smell Xavier's cologne. Something about it was peaceful.

"Xavier ask 101 questions?"

Abel: Abel poured Pete’s margarita and handed it over. “Only a few,” he said, pouring his own. “Told him we would answer the rest tomorrow after I got really drunk. He’s probably coming up with more now that he has the lube.”

MJ: "We didn't not tell him what we were doin'," he felt the need to remind.

Abel: “We gave him a general idea. He’s a detail kinda guy, an exhaustive detail kinda guy. We basically went to Disneyland and didn’t take him, he’s curious.”

MJ: "Wonder where the fuck that comes from." A quick look back to his clothes before remembering he was fresh out of cigarettes. He missed pot. Alcohol was also acceptable, but he had no intention to bite either of them if offered. Teasing was one thing.

"He'd probably want a piece of your hair, too."

Pete/Abel: “This is the same man who breaks into places for fun. He likes to get into locked places and learn their secrets.”

Pete downed half his margarita and hummed thoughtfully. “So he’s a cat.”

MJ: "Ya know, if he were any animal... I imagine, like... a German shepherd, or Doberman. Somethin' overly groomed n'got that stance at dog shows."

Pete/Abel: “A show dog with the curiosity of a cat.”

“I’d say Doberman for sure,” Abel said, nodding sagely. “They always look intimidating.”

MJ: "He doesn't scare me." Maybe he should have. The night of merge, it was not MJ's body curled in a corner, shivering and mumbling, awaiting for capture. It was a handful of salt and a determination to flee no matter the cost. A chapter in his life more surreal than memory could recount.

Abel: “Well of course he doesn’t. He loves you. Scary people don’t look scary to their families and friends.”

MJ: "Isn't that what God's supposed t'be?"

Abel: “Which one?” Abel asked around a handful of goldfish.

MJ: "Respect is fear or some shit."

Pete: Pete shook his head. “They’re not. Fearing someone and respecting them are two different things but there are always people who think they’re one and the same.”

MJ: "Depends on the person. Not the one lookin', but the one they're lookin' at." He thoughtfully stared at the half-empty blood bag.

Abel: Abel shook his head. “This is too deep a conversation after the night we’ve had. We need more booze.”

MJ: "Right. So how 'bout them Knicks?"

Pete/Abel: “Which sport do they play?”

Pete chuckled. “Basketball.”

“Ah, the tall sport!”

MJ: "Yeah. The that," he laughed.

Pete/Abel: “Either of you ever play?”

“Nope.” Pete shook his head. “I play soccer.”

MJ: "Baseball."

Abel: “Look at you two, so athletic.” Abel mixed another round of margaritas, refilled their cups. “That must be why Xavier gets you that primo Olympian blood.”

MJ: "Never gonna be an athlete." It was a nice gesture, though. "Just get t'keep the body of it."

Abel: “And you don’t have to be sweaty and sore! That’s gotta be a nice bonus. Speaking of, are you still hungry? I’ve got more Isabel.”

MJ: "She a fuckin' mummy now? How much did ya take?"

Abel: “Nah, she’s fine. Did you see that the bag is smaller than normal? She gave a couple small ones, not two normal size ones.”

MJ: "All this for the kid?"

Abel: “All the nice girls like an Indiana Jones type.”

MJ: "Just wait 'til she hears 'bout Peter."

Pete/Abel: “I’m an Indiana Jones type now?”

Abel clapped him on the back. “Of course you are! Sure you can’t ever tell anyone and have them buy you drinks because of it but it still counts.”

MJ: "I'll buy ya a drink," he grinned.

Pete: Pete grinned right back. “Imma hold you to that. Getting covered in Umbra slime’s gotta be worth something.”

MJ: "Your real prize is a job well done," he laughed.

Pete/Abel: "You're absolutely right. Slime's a small price to pay for getting that kid back safely. With any luck he's not horribly scarred for life."

Abel shook his head. "Don't worry, Petey. Chances are if he does remember and does tell someone, they won't believe him. They'll chalk it up to a nightmare or to trauma, like humans always do, and if he hears it enough he'll start to believe it."

MJ: "That's how it goes," sighed MJ. "For their own good." For the most part, he believed that. More than he had initially. He didn't care to dwell on the why.

Pete: "In this case, I'd say that's the best case scenario," Pete sighed. "What we managed to see was horrible. Imagine what he saw before we got there."

MJ: "Well I can't. Y'all won't tell me."

Pete: "Did you miss the part where Abel told you about the sentient tree and having to cut off Guildias' arm?"

MJ: "I want the juicy details, goddammit."

Abel: "They're such gross details," said Abel, making a face. "I used to hunt with my dad, I can prep an elk or a bird but a person? That was fucked up."

MJ: "It's Guildias though. Bet he didn't even whimper."

Abel: "I don't fucking know how he managed to stay quiet. I know he wanted to scream. Man's got an iron will."

MJ: "Could the tree, ya know, hear y'all?"

Pete: Pete nodded. "Yeah. It could talk too, in some weird tree language that barely sounded like a language."

MJ: "Did y'all fight a fuckin' Ent?"

Abel: Abel shook his head. “It didn’t move around or have a face. It was rooted to one spot like a normal tree and the creepy roots extended everywhere.”

MJ: "Mmkay. Scratch one off of Ent." Another sip of sweet-metallic vitae, staring out across the river.

"I think we've earned a four-day weekend."

Pete/Abel: Pete polished off his second margarita. “I also wouldn’t call it much of a fight. Guildias distracted it and I just moved fast.”

“We have,” said Abel. “We’re starting on it right now.”

MJ: "Could it have gone without Guildias loppin' an arm off?"

Pete: They both shook their heads but it was Pete who said, “I don’t see how. We didn’t have any bargaining chips.”

MJ: "That bad, huh? Shit..."

Abel: Abel shrugged. “Maybe we would’ve had a chance under different circumstances but the tree was getting ready to kill the kid. We didn’t have time to think up an alternative, and we weren’t armed for a sentient tree.”

MJ: "I'll keep that in mind for the next Umbral mission." He watched the two of them a moment, suddenly taken by gratitude to find them in one piece.

Abel: "I am not getting covered in lube again unless it's for a damn good reason," said Abel, mixing yet another round of margaritas. "We need to find a rescue mission in like...Hawaii."

MJ: "I ain't ever been," MJ said. "Ain't crossed my mind."

Abel: "We should go! Petey and I will drink rum out a coconut and you can drink blood out of a coconut and we'll all sit on the beach for days on end doing nothing."

MJ: "Y'all do days, I'll do nights. But coconuts yes. N'Peter can get lost in the mountains on the full moon."

Pete: Pete snorted. "Or we could go when it's not a full moon. All that fur in that heat? I'd spend the full moon hiding in the ocean."

MJ: MJ looked to Abel. "Know any were-peeps Peter can hang out with on the full moon?"

Abel: "In Hawaii? No. But I can hang out with Pete on the full moon."

MJ: "You're hardly a were-anything."

Abel: “Neither is Callum and he hangs out with Pete on the full moon. It’s about companionship.”

MJ: "How d'ya know so much?"

Pete: “I told him,” Pete chimed in, devouring a handful of Goldfish. “We had time to talk before ya’ll came to pick us up.”

MJ: "A shit ton." Apparently.

Abel: “We talk fast,” Abel said cheerfully. “We needed to bond. Plus ya’ll took forever.”

MJ: "I like that." He wasn't surprised; this was Abel, after all. The man befriended a snake just because he could.

"I don't think I've ever heard ya talk fast," he smiled at Peter.

Pete/Abel: Pete chuckled. “I usually don’t. Didn’t think I could. I blame Abel, I was just trying to keep up.”

“Very few can.” Abel poured them another round and toasted Pete with his. “Here’s to you, Petey. L’chaim.”

MJ: "Ya've joined the club. Welcome. We don't have tee shirts or hats; we got loyalty and free arguments."

Pete/Abel: “I’ll take both.” He clicked solo cups with Abel and downed the contents. The world was beginning to take on a very pleasant haze. His head had started to feel lighter, more floaty. The perfect place to be after the night they’d had.

“What if we got T-shirts? Everyone lives a T-shirt.”

Abel nodded. “They do.”

MJ: "Shirts just for us, or the whole crew?" He couldn't imagine Rosmond wearing one, nor Guildias for that matter.

Pete: “For everyone!” Pete said cheerfully. “I’d pay good money to see Guildias in a T-shirt.”

MJ: "Ya'd know more than me at this point. I ain't seen it."

Pete: “I bet Cal’s seen him in a T-shirt since they’re married.”

MJ: "I don't think 'bout that shit." Not for some years now. Didn't seem fair to even consider.

Pete/Abel: Pete giggled to himself imagining Guildias in something as casual as a T-shirt. It seemed way too normal a thing for Mr. GQ.

“Oooh! I know what we should put on the shirts!” Abel announced. “How about, ‘I went to the Umbra and all I got was lube and this lousy T-shirt’?”

MJ: "Ha. Hell yeah. Xavier'll have t'wait for the next mission, then. He ain't gettin' shit this time."

Abel: Abel snorted. “There’s a man who would never wear a T-shirt. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him in any shirt without buttons and a collar.”

MJ: "I think s'time we steal his clothes."

Pete/Abel: He gave a dramatic gasp. “That’s so sneaky! He’d be so pissed,” Abel laughed. “We should steal everything and only leave him the T-shirt, some jeans, and tennis shoes so he has no choice but to wear it.”

Pete snorted. “Or he’ll just be naked until ya’ll give them back.”

MJ: "Wouldn't put it past him t'just walk 'round naked. He'd make some artistic excuse for it. Pretend the clothes aren't missin'."

Abel: “Or, or!” Abel laughed again. “He’d make us go suit shopping with him as punishment and stick you in another tie.”

MJ: "He'd still have t'walk 'round in a tee shirt. Worth the punishment."

Pete/Abel: “Say the word and we’ll raid his closet.”

Pete turned his attention toward the hot fries. “What if ya’ll just ask him to wear it? Pretty please with extra sugar on top?”

Abel waved the notion away. “That’s not nearly as chaotic and potentially hilarious.”

MJ: "Nah. Fuck that," MJ laughed, overlapping Abel's retort. "Gotta make your own fun, man!"

Abel: “Exactly! And trust me, this is going to be a lot of fun. Oh, we can’t forget his robes,” Abel added to MJ. “He’s got a bunch and if he doesn’t have his clothes he’ll try to just wear those. Should we also steal his underwear and make him wear American flag boxers?”

MJ: "Oh fuck, you're right. I'll get the boxers. Walmart's on the city limits."

Peter was given a grin. "Want a way-too expensive robe?"

Pete/Abel: Pete snorted and just decided to roll with it. He'd blame the tequila, which he was just drinking in shots now. "Why the hell not. Take his socks, too. Walmart's got novelty socks."

Abel's face lit up. "Yes!"

MJ: "Ain't there a shop here that got em? Ones that say, 'fuck this shit'?"

Pete: Pete nodded. “Yep, that gift shop on the way out of town.”

MJ: "Let's go tomorrow. Oh! Ya know, Guildias'll be next."

Pete: “You’re gonna steal poor armless Guildias’ clothes?” Pete chuckled.

MJ: "Maybe talk Callum into it - when he's, ya know, whole."

Pete: “We might be able to get him to get Guildias to wear a T-shirt. Stealing his clothes not so much.”

MJ: "Maybe m'just in a stealin' mood."

Abel: Abel shoved a handful of chips in his mouth. “You can help Devlin steal cookies from the kitchen when Christine isn’t looking. Or break into a fancy museum with Xavier.”

MJ: "Both. I'll do both. Maybe the underwear at Walmart, too."

Pete: Pete squinted. "I feel like I should be discouraging this, but Walmart's a giant corporation, so..." He shrugged and downed more tequila.

MJ: "Now you're gettin' it," MJ chuckled into his bag of blood.

Pete: "I'll scold you tomorrow if I remember. Gotta keep up them good and righteous publican appearances."

MJ: "Good n'righteous I guess is your MO now. Maybe it always was, but ya ain't punchin' people anymore."

Pete: "Got lectured by the law. Then the law's boss. I still punch people though. Aren't enough lectures in all the world to keep assholes from being assholes."

MJ: "Was wonderin' when ya were gonna get canned."

Pete: “Last time I got close was when I got the lecture. Around here it’s considered a miracle that I don’t have a lengthy rap sheet and a couple lawsuits under my belt.”

MJ: "S'part of your charm! I fell for it," he winked.

Pete: Pete laughed. "Next time there's an asshole in the pub, I'll call you before I punch their lights out."

MJ: "Hell yeah. So sexy." A glance was given to Abel, his smile fading a bit at the link between Abel and a certain witch in California. His mind wasn't made up one way or another, but little reminders tickled an annoying sense of guilt behind his neck.

"Y'all ready t'go home?"

Pete/Abel: Abel was just gonna keep eating his chips and let them flirt. Any opinions he had in any particular direction about any particular situation would be kept to himself.

Pete nodded after taking another drink. "Yeah, we probably should. Still gotta shower, and work tomorrow. Or...later today. Is it today?"

Abel nodded. "Yep, it's today."

MJ: "Let's get ya home, then. Ya damn near drank a whole bottle. I mean ya earned it, but s'way past your bedtime, old man."

Pete: Pete’s dramatically offended gasp lost some of its effectiveness when he just barely avoided falling into the river as he staggered to his feet.

“I am a great and mighty bear! Bedtimes are the stuff of mere mortals!”

MJ: "Mighty bear gonna go down river if he keeps stumblin'." MJ got to his feet and began gathering Peter's things. Offered his hand to keep the bear upright.

Pete/Abel: Pete laughed again, taking MJ’s hand. “Thanks very much. Been a loooong time since I had that much tequila. Come on, Abel!”

“Yep, I’m here, I’m up.” He took the hand that Pete offered and smiled at all of them. “Look at us, a drunken daisy chain and a sober vampire. Onward to Petey’s! Petey, be a champ and try not to hurl, okay?”

“Copy that.”

MJ: MJ watched. Didn't think to look back if they'd gathered every bit of trash. Callum could yell at them later. Probably would, given Guildias' condition. Right now, Peter was the only priority.

"Want us t'stay?"

Pete/Abel: “Yeah, stay! I have blackout shades and stuff to make French toast for breakfast.”

“Sold!” Abel said cheerfully. “Okay, everyone gird your loins.”

He did some girding of his own, making sure he was steady before transporting them to Pete’s.

[echoes-of-the-clockwork]

Book Four: War (Gladiolus x Reader) Chapter Twenty

It wasn't long before Noctis was separated from Gladio and Ignis due to the wrecked train on the tracks. It also only took Ardyn a few minutes to begin taunting him. He gripped (Y/n)'s sword tightly as he insulted the chancellor before continuing to proceed forward. He reaches another wrecked train car when daemons began swarming him. He sliced down a few and created an opening for him to run.

Noctis manages to make it into a now derelict building where he stops to catch his breath. After a moment, he drops to one knee, reaches into his pocket, and pulls out something clenched in his fist. He slowly opens his palm to reveal the Ring of Lucii. His hands begin to shake as he stares at it and he grunts rapidly, as though wracked with pain. He unsteadily slides the ring onto his finger, roaring in pain and his eyes briefly glowing red as he succeeds in this struggle. Catching his breath once again, Noctis stares at the ring of his ancestors, flexes his hand, and rises from his knees. "The time has come."

Switching between the Ring and War's sword, Noctis destroyed any daemons that targeted him. He made his way towards Zegnautus Keep. He eventually found the elevator leading to the Keep. However, daemons poured out of the lift when the doors opened.

Once killing the enemies, Noctis boarded the elevator and rides it up to Zegnautus Keep. When he stepped off the elevator, he heard Ardyn taunting him again. He tried his best to ignore the chancellor as he walked the halls of the Keep.

When rounding one corner, he spots Ardyn at the other end of the hall walking away from a downed magitek trooper. He quickly hid once seeing the lifeless machine stand, taking a zombie-like posture. He sneaks by the rogue axeman, only to stumble into more further down the hallway.

After some time, Noctis starts to see and hear Prompto. Every time he tried to help his best friend, he was greeted by a lifeless magitek. The prince realized Ardyn was playing more tricks on him and he was becoming frustrated.

Using the keycard he recently upgraded, Noctis takes the elevator to an upper level and proceeds across a bridge leading to the central lift. He carefully made his way across a catwalk towards a control panel for the central elevator. He tried to use his upgraded keycard, but it didn't work. "Gotta find a way to make it move."

"Try this."

Noctis was startled by the voice and spun around, coming face to face with Death. He stared into her golden eyes for a few seconds before looking down at what she was offering him. It was another keycard. "Well, uh...thanks." Using the generator keycard, he was able to activate the control panel and give power to the elevator.

The two begin to make their way back across the catwalk towards the central elevator. They didn't make it far before a gargantua daemon suddenly lands on the platform just beyond the end of the catwalk. "The hell?" Noctis glared at the enemy.

Death went to summon her scythe the moment the gargantua raises its sword. She went to attack the daemon, but the daemon brings its sword down and shatters the catwalk. The Horseman and Noctis fall into the depths of Zegnautus Keep.

As they fell, Noctis gripped (Y/n)'s blade tightly. He focused on what she taught him and wrapped an arm around Death's waist before tossing the blade. He warped the moment the sword embedded into the wall, taking the girl with him. They both looked up to see how far they fell. "Damn..." Noctis cursed.

Death looked down. "There's still quite a fall left."

The boy also looked down and grimaced at the sight. He thought for a few seconds until he steeled himself and prepared to warp a second time. "Hold on," he told the girl before yanked the blade out of the wall. Adjusting their position, he tossed the blade downward. It lodged itself into the ground and the familiar sensation of warping filled his being.

Warping to the bottom of the central shaft, Noctis sighed in relief and released Death. "You okay?"

"I'm fine all thanks to you." She looked around, noticing the large pile of debris and the bodies of imperial troopers. When seeing a familiar figure among the dead, she frowned. "Oh, no..."

Noctis followed her gaze and spotted the body of Ravus. What else caught his attention was the deceased man's severed mechanical arm still clinging to the haft of the late King Regis' sword. The blade stands impaled in the floor beside Ravus' corpse. Noctis gazes at the dead high commander in silent sadness.

After a moment, he reaches out toward the haft of his father's sword. At his touch, Ravus' severed arm falls to land on the first son of Tenebrae's chest. Noctis pulls his hand back from the weapon, taking a moment to first kneel beside Ravus and look upon his face a final time. Finally, the prince stands and grasps his father's royal arm, pulling it free.

Death walked over to War's blade and did the same. She gazed sorrowfully at the black and crimson weapon. Noctis peered over at her before making his way over. "We'll get (Y/n) back."

She smiled at him. "I know we will." She switched out her scythe, deciding to use her sister's sword. "Let's get moving. We have to find your friends."

Joining forces, Noctis and Death make their way through Zegnautus Keep. They continued to listen to Ardyn taunt them both over the loudspeaker. At one point, the sable-haired girl summoned War's blade and impaled the loudspeaker, silencing the man for a short while. She sighed contently. "Finally, some peace and quiet."

"Until we come across another loudspeaker," Noctis said.

"Then I'll destroy that one, too."

He smirked at her reply before returning his focus to searching for the others.

Deeper into Zegnautus Keep, they were soon being stalked by the foras daemon. The duo kept on their toes while proceeding forward. They fell into a few of Ardyn's traps, but there was one they walked right into that proved to be difficult to escape. Translucent, electrified doors close at either end of the hallway and begin closing in on Noctis and Death. The magitek troopers on the floor rose and set their sights on the duo.

"Didn't see that coming!" Noctis snarled.

"A little pain never hurt anyone. On you go. Hurry. While you dawdle, people are dying," Ardyn said.

"We've really gone and done it now."

Death summoned (Y/n)'s blade and killed the magiteks. "We're not giving up."

Ignis' voice suddenly calls out from the other end of the hallway in the direction Noctis and Death had been going. "Noct? Is that you?"

"Hey! Noct! Can you hear us?" Gladio asked.

"Ignis, Gladio!" The prince shouted.

"Where are you?" The tactician inquired.

Gladio is able to see through the doors at the other end of the hallway. He takes notice of Noctis' and Death's situation. The doors have almost finished closing in on them. He went to search for a way to save the two, but he stopped when seeing the Horseman create a hole in one of the doors. She gritted her teeth when feeling the electricity course through her body, but she fought through the pain and absorbed it. Weakly, she lowers the blade as Noctis leaps through the hole she created. She followed him, crumpling on the floor beside him. She breathed heavily, her body healing itself.

Noctis places a hand on her shoulder. "Thanks for the save."

She managed a small smile. "Consider it payback for saving me from that fall earlier."

He stood up, helping the Horseman to her feet. He then looked over at Ignis and Gladio. "How'd you guys get here?"

"After we were separated, we received "help" from the usual suspect," Ignis stated.

"That bastard's playing with us. But at least we're together," Gladio said.

"All but two of us."

Just then, Ardyn's voice rung out from the loudspeaker. "Reunited with your retainers at last. How very touching. Must be a fine feeling, having friends. Look how happy you are! I pray you find your dear Prompto soon. And you mustn't forget the lovely (Y/n). It's impolite to keep a lady waiting."

Gladio glared at the loudspeaker at hearing the chancellor mention the girl. "Damn bastard."

"Once we find Prompto, we'll search for War. She doesn't have much time left," Death said.

"Then let's hurry."

She smirked at the trio. "I've a feeling someone else is going to find him before us."

"What?" Noctis asked.

"Famine," Ignis answered.

"Speaking of her..." Death's voice trailed off when she could sense her sister's location. "Follow me."

Noctis, Ignis, and Gladio followed the girl through the hallways of the Keep. They followed her to an elevator, where they headed up to the cell block. There, they found Famine helping Prompto out of a cell. The three boys make their over to the sharpshooter.

"Hey, you alright?" Gladio asked.

"Are you hurt? Do you need help?" Ignis inquired.

"I'm fine," Prompto said as Famine released him. He stumble towards them and almost tripped, but  Noctis caught him. "Thank you, Noct. Tell me. Were you worried about me?"

"Of course I was. What kind of question is that?" Noctis retorts.

Prompto managed to steady himself with his best friend's help. "Of course. That's why you came, like I believed you would."

"Prompto..."

"That's why I told myself I couldn't die. Not until I could see you and hear you tell me I'm not a fake—that I'm the real me."

"I'm sorry," Noctis muttered melancholically.

Prompto shook his head. "Don't be. Everything's alright now."

Once the two boys separated, Famine provided healing for the blonde. Seeing the minor cuts and bruises heal, she smiled at him. "There, all better."

Prompto smiled back at her. "Thank you."

"Well then, now that we're all together, our next move should be finding War," Death said.

"About that..." Noctis trailed off.

"We don't have weapons," Gladio said.

The sable-haired girl blinked in surprise. That's when she remembers Noctis only had her sister's sword with him earlier. "That is a problem..."

"I propose we search the area," Ignis suggested.

"It couldn't hurt," Famine said.

"Then let's look around," Noctis stated.

The group make their way back toward the central area of this level of Zegnautus Keep after rescuing Prompto. It wasn't long before Ignis stopped them. "Noct, do you hear that?"

"Hear what?" Noctis asked, looking toward his advisor.

"I've heard this sound before—on the train, just before your weapons failed you. It's nearby, and it may hold the key to restoring your power." The six of them make their way across the catwalk leading to the central area of this level of the Keep. They come to a halt in front of a room sealed with large metal doors. "It's here," Ignis said.

Noctis approaches the metal doors in the center of the enormous room. "This thing?" He places his hand against one of the doors and tried to open it, but both were tightly sealed. "Door's locked."

"It's coming from within. Is there no way through?" Ignis questioned.

"There's a way," Prompto solemnly said. All eyes were on him as he hesitantly steps up to the door's scanner and raises the back of his right wrist to it. As the doors slide open, he resumes speaking while staring off into the room, unable to make eye contact with the others. "So, MTs... They've got those codeprints...just like I do."

"Do they? Never looked," Noctis said, unfazed.

"Yeah... So, as it turns out...I'm one of them. Not exactly something I could tell people growing up in Lucis." Prompto is fighting back tears, but continues speaking. "Still... You guys are like...the only friends I've ever known. I just hope that things can stay the way they were."

"Whatever. Who cares where you were born?"

"I don't see you turning against us. Not now, or ever," Ignis stated.

"Thanks, guys. Still...I can't change where I came from. What I am," Prompto mumbled.

"Since when does where you come from matter to you?" Noctis asked. "You never once treated me as a prince." He playfully punches Prompto's shoulder.

"He's got you there," Gladio chimed in.

"Never so much as a "Highness"," Ignis added.

"We're done here. C'mon, crown citizen," Noctis said.

Gladio steps over to Ignis to help guide him into the room. He gives Prompto's shoulder a friendly smack as they walk past. "You're one of us, right?"

Ignis stops and turns back towards the marksman. "Unless you'd rather not be."

Prompto smiles with a nod. Before following them, Famine walked up to him. She playfully nudges him in the side. "I bet that's a weight off your shoulders."

"I do feel a lot better," he confessed.

He and Famine follow the others into the room. Inside it, they find the emperor's abandoned clothing laying upon the throne. They also find a large bank of computers, which are the cause of Noctis' lost powers. Without hesitating, the raven-haired boy rams his father's sword through the machines.

"So...did it work?" Prompto asked.

"With the device down and out, Noct's power should be up and running," Ignis answered.

"Go on, try it," Gladio told Noctis.

"Alright. Moment of truth." Noctis holds out his hand and conjures a sword. Prompto claps in celebration.

"We're back, baby," Gladio smirked. "Now we can hunt down that damned monster."

Noctis nodded in agreement. "Let's roll."

The moment the group left the emperor's throne room, the gargantua daemon that caused Noctis and Death to fall earlier lands on the platform in front of them. It's quickly joined by other daemons, who begin manifesting. "Not you again," Noctis groaned.

"New friend?" Prompto inquired.

"You really need to pick 'em better," Gladio chuckled.

Before the boys could even summon their weapons, Famine casted a powerful lightning spell. Myriads of lightning bolts manifested from thin air and struck the daemons. Many of the weaker ones perished from the spell while the fewer strong ones remained. The golden-haired girl stepped forward in front of the group as the remaining enemies recovered from the spell. "I'll handle these guys. You all need to find War. She's running out of time."

"But..." Prompto began.

She sent a smile his way. "I'll be fine."

Gladio lowered his hand. "Where do we even begin?"

"The last I saw the dullahan it was wandering around the lower levels of the Keep. Start there. I'll meet up with you all once I've dealt with these guys."

"Be careful," the sharpshooter said.

"Let's go." Noctis led everyone but Famine out of the enormous room. They returned to the elevator and immediately ride it to the lower levels of Zegnautus Keep.

As the lift carried them down, Gladio felt an intense burning sensation in his pocket. He winced from the extreme heat and quickly took out what the cause was. It was the summoning orb. The shield was unable to hold it any longer and accidentally dropped it. "Damn..." He tried to pick it up, but Death stopped him.

"Wait," she held up her hand. Squatting down, she watched the orb closely as it began rolling around.

Prompto lifted his foot to allow the orb to roll by. "What's going on?"

"It's going crazy," Noctis commented when the orb picked up speed.

"It's never done that before," Gladio said.

The closer the elevator got to the lower levels, the faster the orb rolled around. Death promptly caught it as the lift door slid open. She wasn't bothered by the burning sensation, her minor injuries healing within seconds. "War's using what strength she has left to call upon the orb." She stepped off, the light the scarlet orb was emitting growing brighter. "We're on the right track."

"Does this mean we're gonna use it like a tracking device?" Prompto questioned.

Death smirked. "Exactly. Follow me, everyone."

Noctis, Prompto, Gladio, and Ignis followed Death through the halls of the lower level of Zegnautus Keep. She held up the orb, watching it closely whenever they turned a corner or passed a room. Whenever they stumbled across splitting paths, she would hold the orb up higher. She walked a little ways down each path to see the orb's reaction. The path she always chose was the one where the orb's light would intensify.

Eventually, Death led them into a large hangar-like room. She quickly pushed everyone behind a large pile of wooden crates when she smelt a foul odor. She noticed the orb's light vanished, it no longer being hot to the touch. She handed it back to Gladio, who put it back into his pocket.

Peering out from behind the crates, Death scanned the hangar. Her golden eyes bounced around until she saw a black puddle materialize in the middle of the hangar. Her eyes narrowed when the dullahan emerged from the inky substance. Its body was much larger and the armor it once adorned now was gone.

Gladio has also been peeking out from their hiding spot. He glared daggers at the grotesque monster. Raising his hand, he went to summon his greatsword. Death saw this and promptly stopped him. "Don't even think about it," she whispered.

"Why?" The brute growled. "We're here to kill it, aren't we? It's got its damn head with it. It'll be easy."

"I know you want to get War back, but running out there and attacking blindly is careless. You won't be risking not only our lives, but War's as well. She's inside that thing. If you swing wildly, you risk hurting her. In her current weakened state, heavy injuries to her body won't heal and she will die."

Prompto swallowed the lump in his throat. "(Y/n)'s inside that thing...?"

Gladio lowered his hand. He desperately wanted (Y/n) back safe and sound. "Fine. What's your plan?"

She was grateful he listened to her. "All right. Listen closely..."

[lichlairs]

Checkout our new post over at https://lichlair.com/soulknife-rogue-lets-talk-about-it

Soulknife Rogue: Let's Talk About It

Alright so unless you’ve been living under a rock for the past few months or you just so happen to be one of those people who are, you know, not locked at home relearning how to crochet in this near apocalypse…then you’ve probably at least seen pictures of WotC’s brand new book: Tasha’s Cauldron of Everything. Not only is this book heavily packed with content that’s got all my players messaging me about (yeah, we hopped on that Discord too), but it also made a few of the more popular 2019 UAs official. More specifically, of course I am talking about those nice psionic subclasses we wrote about a while ago, which is why today we’re taking a look at some of the changes made to the Soulknife Rogue. If you’re curious about what this subclass looked like before going official, you can check out my original article over here.

Definitely not biased perspective

Well, for starters, I actually got to play a Soulknife for D&D’s most recent adventure, Icewind Dale, Rime of the Frostmaiden, which means that I can now give an update on my thoughts that I will succintly summarize in three words: f**k, that’s fun!

From experience, I can now say that this is probably the second most fun I’ve had playing a rogue (and I play my fair share of rogues!). Not only does the whole psionic abilities flavor really well and offer cool thematics for you to build on for your character, but they also make for some great utility:

I must admit that when I first read through the UA version of the Soulknife I didn’t quite appreciate how valuable the vanishing properties of our new weapon of choice would be but now I can confidently say: move over Assassin rogue! Why would anyone need to spend weeks working on a persona when you can just make your weapons leave no trace on your marks? Definitely a big game changer for those of you out there who might be considering playing a sneaky assassin/hitman sort of character.

Another great bit of utility I’ve found even more helpful than I anticipated is actually the Soulknife rogue’s ability to communicate with other creatures. Sure, the rogue’s 3rd level Psychic Whispers is great for coordinating party movements as is, but one mustn’t dismiss the specific wording in the text! “Creature” implies that you can talk to just about anything that moves as long as it has a language. It doesn’t even matter if your character can’t speak said language! I know I say this often but… Pact of the Great Old One who? This is such a useful ability that has gotten my party out of trouble on many occasions. Got an angry Yeti yelling at you? Just chat it up!

What’s changed

Whether you are just now looking to play this class or simply looking for a breakdown of the changes to update your sheet with, we can definitely say there’s a lot going on with this first official print of the Soulknife Rogue. Here’s the gist of it:

Psychic Blade, 3rd level

Then: In the 2019 UA version, summoning 1 to 2 blades (our choice) required the usage of our bonus action. While not the worst, this was certainly less than ideal for the heavily B.A reliant rogue class. Now: Lucky for us, summoning a blade is now part of our action (and bonus action if we so choose). Not only does free up our action economy, but it also allows us to make that stabby stabby thing rogues are known for. As a note, while the 1d6 psychic damage remains unchanged on our main attack, do keep in mind that our off hand is now only a 1d4.

Psionic Powers (Replaces Psionic Enhancements), 3rd level

Then: In the 2019 UA version, we had the choice of increasing our movement speed, giving ourselves some extra temporary hp, or mentally communicating with a single creature within a 30ft rage of us. As well as the ability to switch between these three options on a long rest.

Now: We get psionic dice! Our 1d6 (increases as we level up) now allows us to communicate telepathically with a number of creatures equal to twice our proficiency modifier at the same time! Be the moving walkie talkie set you always wanted to be. Not only that, but the distance of our range also substantially increases to a mile. The only caveat to this ability and that the duration of this connection is limited in hours equal to the number we roll on our psi die. Another potential downgrade is that creatures can now choose to end this communication of their free volition.

“Please, stop playing 80s jams on a loop”

Last but not least, while we might not longer be able to increase our movement speed or acquire temporary hit points, Soulknife rogues are now able to roll an added dice when rolling checks they’re proficient in, thanks Psi-Bolstered Knack!

Soul Blades (Replaces Terrifying Blades), 9th level

Then: In the 2019 UA, we could strike fear into our opponents hearts with our blades (or you know, your rogue-y edge) by forcing them to make a wisdom saving throw on a hit.

Now: We get two options; Honing Strike allows us to add our psi die to our attacks once we know we have missed, which, as if this subclass weren’t OP already, wording would indicate only happens if the added die value lands us the hit; that is, if it still misses, we get to keep our die. Talk about broken!

That’s not all, however, this official version of the subclass also gives us the ability to use our bonus action to throw a blade and teleport to the space it occupies. Think about it: tall building? Bamf! Need to clear a room quickly? Bamf! Baddie is getting away? Bamf! The only limitation to this ability is that we can only move up to ten time our roll on the psi die, which I suppose can be a little unpredictable.

Psychic Veil, 13th level

Then: In the 2019 UA, this ability allowed us to become invisible for up to 10 minutes or until we made an attack or forced a saving throw. This ability was available to us a number of times equal to our intelligence modifier and replenish on a long rest.

Now: What kind of stealth mission only takes 10 minutes? Doesn’t matter! This new version of the Soulknife allows for an entire hour’s worth of invisible shenanigans. Not only that, but the wording has been changed to that invisibility only breaks after dealing damage or forcing a saving throw. Prank your little rogue heart away. I suppose the only caveat to this is that we only get a single free use of this before having to spend our psi die to activate this feature.

Rend Mind, 17th level

Then: In the 2019 UA, the damage dealt by this feature was equal to 12d6 psychic damage and half as much on a save and could be used a number of times equal to our intelligence modifier that replenished on a long rest.

Now: While there is still a save to decided whether or not our target is stunned, the damage dealt by this feature is no longer halved and instead equals that of our sneak attack. Another change is the fact that we can now only use this feature once per long rest unless we are ready to part with three of our psi die to do so again.

I don’t know about you folks, but I definitely think we got an upgrade on this one and I personally cannot wait to keep plying the updated version of this subclass. Got any comments about the Soulknife you’re itching to share? Drop a message in the comments below!

[starry-sky-1]

Jungkook's little adventure

Spinoff of this lovely series by @lil-meow-meow-goes-rawr who let me do this!!!! Lotso love to her and kookie who I couldn't resist writing uwu.

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“JK, JK wake up” Seokjin sighed as he shook the human bundle of blankets for the umpteenth time. The little Hatsune Miku figurine alarm clock on the bedside table chimed a dainty 8:30 am as the bundle in question groaned and shriveled into a tighter ball.

Seokjin stood, arms akimbo, and pursed his lips. “Yah! Jungkook-ah you have to wake up or did you forget its your turn to bring the groceries today? Its your free day so I understand you were up playing Overwatch till 3 am but breakfast is getting cold. I made hash browns with eggs benedict and that bread you’re fond of.We even have Banana Milk.”

Hearing about banana milk, the bundle rumbled and sat up, a head popping out of its recesses like a bunny, puffy doe eyes that were closed, revealed a mop of fluffy hair, sticking up in all directions as Jungkook let out a cute yawn before rolling on the other side and getting up, stubbing his toe in the process.

The shock of pain, made him wince and his eyes flew open, clutching the now sensitive toe in his hand.

“Ow, Ow, OW”

The elder had an amused smile on his face as he watched the entire scene unfold.

“Sometimes I wonder how you’re related to me Jungkook-ah, a graceful, beautiful human like me, sculpted by the finest, who ladies die over, and then there’s you.”

“Way to boost my confidence, hyung” He muttered and grasped his spectacles, promptly putting them on. “I’ll meet you down in 15 minutes.”

Seokjin nodded and moved to the door, kicking a one piece themed sweatpants pair that was lying on the floor for god knows how long and shut the door behind him.

Jungkook stretched, cracking his bones and made his way over to the ensuite bathroom, both brothers had their rooms connected , in a small apartment unit above the bar.

He made his way down to see Seokjin on a call, recently they had been getting quite a number of assignments. The aloof bartender was a former secret service agent and one of the finest in the nation. He knew and dealt with secrets, disillusioned by bureaucracy and corruption, leaving after finishing one of the most difficult assignments ever with him as the only survivor.

“Yes Yoongi I’ll be more than happy to babysit the squirt as you and Hoseok plummet yourself into another dangerous mission, I mean wasn’t Mist enough for you?”

Ahh Mist, that brought back some memories, quite the adventure.

Jungkook scarfed the meal on the table, marvelling at his hyung’s cooking, the meals he cooked could make him a celebrity chef and yet here he was, dealing with dangerous stuff.

“To each his own I guess” he muttered and rinsed his plate, putting it in the right place before moving to the coatstand, his trusty hooded jacket would be perfect for the crisp nip in the air. He shuffled his shoes on and went down, deciding to explore the city a bit before he would fetch groceries and then munch on snacks as he played Overwatch again, he had a score to settle with NoobMaster96.

Patting his pockets, he checked his phone, keys and wallet before making his way downtown. October would be here soon and the parks would be full of leaves in various shades of reds, oranges.He loved those.

The public park was near the older market with a lot of old shops who sold stuff the traditional way, he found the square market to be too boisterous, the stores too fancy with their automatic doors, self checkouts, the crowd too predictable. He would rather source his seaweed chips and ramyun packets from the old lady who would almost always mistake him for her grandson and give him a mangatteok whenever he dropped by.

Speaking of ramyun, he was running low on his nutrition source with cans of energy drink, that’s how he survived those gruesome matches and lived to tell the tale.

He was just rounding the corner near the store, when a police car caught his attention, the small group of people gathering near it obstructed his view from what was happening. He slipped his hood on and slipped into the gathering with practiced ease and noticed his old lady angrily ranting off to two policemen who he knew very well.

Jimin had on a strained smile as he tried to ease the temper of the lady while Taehyung stood flabbergasted, asking questions to an old man who answered them. He turned on his heel and looked at the crowd when his eyes landed at an all too familiar face. Jungkook ducked, having been caught by Tae who flashed him his signature boxy grin and walked towards him, swiftly pulling him out causing Jungkook to squawk.

“Well, well, well if it isn’t my favourite Dongsaeng” he said.

“I’m the only dongsaeng you know from school, hyung” Jungkook pouted as Tae ruffled his hair, causing his cowlick to stand once again which he had spent a lot of time setting.

Jimin noticed Jungkook and pinched his cheek, smiling his infamous eye smile “Still as grumpy as ever.”

“And you’re still as short as ever.”

Jimin’s smile dropped while Tae guffawed and slapped him on the back. Jimin kicked Tae’s shin and then smacked Jungkook’s neck causing the younger to cry out in indignance.

“Yah! Is this how you talk to your hyung after everything we’ve done for you, brat?”

Jungkook gave him a mischievous smirk and rolled his shoulders.

The crowd had begun to disperse and it was then he turned to look at his allies slash friends and asked them what was with the crowd?

Tae looked at him and sighed, “Recently there have been a lot of petty theft incidents here by individuals dressed in all black with helmets or masks and riding gloves. They snatch handbags, briefcases, anything that they can land their hands on. Moreover we can’t ID them as they have blurred their motorcycle number plates and move on a very common design, the physical build is also more or less the same so we can’t say if it’s a single person or a group.”

Suddenly his eyes shone and his grin came back, Jungkook knew that look all too well.

“No Hyung, I am not helping you in this case again, I have to defeat NoobMaster96” He whined.

“Consider it payment for helping your eccentric psychopath friend and his cute ward. Oho she’s too adorable for her own good.”

Jimin added “The coverup alone took us so much time, we hardly slept for a month and it almost cost us our current titles. I NEVER want to work on the desk again” He said with a shudder.

Jungkook nibbled on his lower lip, On one hand he knew he was obligated to help Hoseok hyung and Yana, who he considered his own little sister, on the other hand he still had to game…….

“Fineeeeee” he replied, huffing.

“I knew if there was anyone who could help us, it would be our dear little Kookie” Tae chimed and Jimin smiled as well, highfiving his partner.

“But I need the details you have, the police files and access to the traffic security cameras”

“Consider it done”

“And I want 5 packets of chili ramyeon and nori chips as thanks”

“Whaaaa”

“Don’t question him, Jimin, and done.”

Jungkook moved to their car and Tae fetched a brown paper bag with the words confidential written on it.

“Now lets move to someplace less public and discuss with fewer ears” Jimin suggested and both nodded and followed him to a cafe owned by an ex policeman.

The little bell chimed as they entered and the owner flashed the 2 detectives a toothy smile as he continued to wipe a mug in his hand. They moved to the little private cabin which he held for “special” customers and took a seat. Jimin and Tae knew it was soundproof on the inside meaning no noise from the cabin would go out but they could hear everything on the outside clearly.

Jungkook spread the files on the table and quickly went over them, clicking a few pictures of evidence on his phone, whose camera he had upgraded to give better resolutions. Taking pictures of the suspects from the traffic cameras, he placed them back into the folder.

“I’ve sent you a link that would help you get into the mainframe. I hope you know the drill. Do NOT leave any evidence of your presence, you know SPD’s IT team is getting better at tracking illegal hacking or data hostage attempts.”

The younger only rolled his eyes when there was a knock on the door. Jimin tapped in confirmation and the owner came in, placing two cups of cappucinos for the boys and a hot chocolate for him, closing the door on his way out.

They discussed more details as they took their respective drinks and Tae told him he’d told the owner to bring hot chocolate for him since he knew that Jungkook couldn’t stand the strong taste at all.

Jungkook remembered he had to get groceries and once finished, Tae and Jimin helped him fetch stuff from the aisles at the next door mart and told him they’d drop him off before going back to the station to “work”. He whined when they did not get his snacks telling him that would be his reward if he could give them the missing link to the case and close it.

Clutching the full bags, Jungkook managed to balance them as he slid his key in and went inside. The lights were off which meant Seokjin was out and should be back soon to prepare for opening the bar.

He deposited them on the kitchen counter, placing the perishables in the fridge and moved to his room, opening his laptop as he decided to copy the data from his phone. Maybe Namjoon hyung could give him an insight on this? Ahh no he’s busy so he mustn’t be bothered.

Jin returned and noticed that Jungkook was home a little earlier than usual. The boy would never drop in before 8 pm, just in time for dinner on his days off. So it was surprising to see him back so soon.

He knocked on his door “JK, did you have lunch?” the boy didn’t respond. Jin knocked louder this time. Jungkook fumbled with his headphones and peeped from the door.

“Yes?”

“I asked if you had eaten lunch yet?”

“I had a cup of hot chocolate”

“Yah! That doesn’t count as lunch! I’m making fried rice, come down in 10, irrespective of what you’re working on” Jin said, motioning to the laptop and the wires attached to his phone.

Jungkook swiftly nodded and closed the door, resuming the transfer of data as he waited. He checked his phone for messages, finding none. Of course who would message him, he smiled ruefully before checking progress of the tapes downloading in his system.

As soon as there was a single minute left to 3:10 pm, he went down in the kitchen, just in time to see Jin plating 2 servings, his being smaller than what he had poured for the younger one.

The smell was heavenly and before he knew it, the plate was wiped clean. Jungkook rose to put them in the washer but Jin shook his head.

“You have homework, right kiddo? Don’t worry hyung will handle it”

Jungkook smiled at him brightly before running upstairs, almost tripping on his feet before he plopped himself on his table again, working on a short code that would narrow his search to the bikes of the model, the perpetrators used. It would limit his view time to 5 hours. Something he was sure he could manage. He carefully scanned the now shortened footage and noticed that the perpetrators would always, exclusively be downtown. It was as if they knew their chances of escaping were better there. He also noticed how they seemed to know where to go, irrespective of whether they were on foot or bike. The alleys where the cameras could not record their further movement. Also not a sliver of skin was exposed so nothing could be said about their build, complexion or looks, even gender. All the footage looked the same.

He ran his fingers through his hair, pushing his glasses up, there was no clue, how could he help Jimin and Tae, when suddenly one of the bikes went too close to the pole. Jungkook narrowed his eyes and played the footage again. On the back of the bike was an imperceptible symbol, which he enlarged and screenshot.

One thing that he understood was that the perpetrator(s) had a good idea of the alleys, secondly they knew how to conceal their identity well so it would be physically impossible to identify them, thirdly they chose their victims randomly and finally another bike had yellow paint on its tires, from the footage of a day ago, the one with the old woman whose bag was stolen.

Jungkook knew that there was renovation going on in the eastern part which meant that atleast one of them had entered via Incheon.

He zoomed the footage as he spotted a man push the woman and snatched her bag in broad daylight as he sped off, the old woman screaming at him, which caused the few shopkeepers around to come out. Jungkook noticed that this bike was devoid of the same symbol but had another one in the same design.

He searched them and discovered 2 numbers, in a snake font, 13 and 55.

Weird!

He quickly overlooked the dates of the events and discovered that the dates were in fact a sequence! Running them through the algorithm detector he found that they were Fibonacci numbers and the

snake fonts actually represented their positioning on the cartesian plane.

He had heard Hoseok talk about a gang in town, slowly acquiring power through meticulous attacks, they hadn’t done anything severe, but their attacks were random enough to confuse the police. To make matters worse nobody knew of their arrival or departure, they chose less populated areas to target and left no evidence behind.

Putting the dates in sequence, Jungkook knew when the next attack would take place, coincidentally it was a free day for him as well. It wouldn’t hurt to give a little tip off to the detectives.

The only problem was how to confirm his suspicions, what if he was wrong? He couldn’t afford to let down another of the residents at downtown or undermine what was at stake for Tae and Jimin. He knew the pattern of such gangs all too well, it would slowly evolve to bigger crimes including shootouts and murders once they’d amassed enough power and terrorised the locals. It was an ugly spiral in the Criminal Underworld.

It was almost 11 pm by the time he had finished. Shoot! Just on time his stomach rumbled as well. He hadn’t had anything since lunch. He padded downstairs, knowing Jin would be at the bar but he’d chew his head off the next day for ignoring dinner. There was a plate of samgyeopsal with rice and clear soup, left for him. Jungkook felt a rush of affection for his step brother rise in his heart, who took care of him more like a parent than a sibling, never once questioning when he was dumped at his door out of nowhere and readily gave him a roof to live in and made sure all his needs were fulfilled.

He sat and ate dinner in silence and cleaned the kitchen up before wiping the table. Jin rarely let him in the bar, being fiercely protective of the younger one, wanting him to live as normally as possible.

He shut the lights and formulated a plan in his head. Oh he couldn’t wait to see it all unfold.

The D day had Jungkook nervous as hell, Tae had bombarded him with questions all week about his progress but Jungkook said it was difficult with lack of data but nonetheless sent him the designs on the 2 bikes just to not rouse his suspicions too much. They had thankfully bought the little lie and were busy running for matches through their databases.

He waited at the eastern end on his bike which he had borrowed from Yoongi, the sleek model was very flexible for driving in narrower lanes or taking sharp turns. The only condition was that he had to hack into some company’s financial statements, an easy job.

Hiding in the alleyway, he waited until it was just a few people out on the streets. If his calculations were correct, there would be an incident any time now. His notice turned to one of the shops in his direct line of vision, A girl with curly hair, sunkissed skin exit the cafe where had been the last week.

She had long, pretty legs clad in a pair of skinfit jeans and a white blouse tied in a knot above the highwaist as she put her slingbag around her and moved. He spotted movement on the peripheral of his vision.

Bingo! There were 2 people on the bike this time, heading straight for the woman who now had her headphones on, moving to whatever beat it played. Jungkook revved his own and gave chase right as one of them broke the bag from its sling and ran, clutching it tightly.

She screamed and gave chase, but wasn’t as fast enough as the person. Jungkook knew he’d take the alley with limited access to the traffic camera and his friend would be there, taking a quick shortcut he locked the bike and hid in the thick shadows knowing the person would be there anytime soon, as his friend waited at the other end.

The person came in, huffing as the outfit proved too much for the weather. Jungkook pounced on them, taking them down in a tangle of limbs as he subdued them. Their partner long gone when they realised that the ally had been subdued. He took the helmet off to reveal a young man with a nasty scar across his eye.This wasn’t an injury, no it was a deliberate slash. Quickly he found some spare plastic ties near the dumpbox and tied the man down. He dragged him over to the main footpath and saw the girl jogging up to him.She was even prettier up close and he blushed a bit. He dialed Tae and said

“Hyung, I have a certain present for you, come down quick” as he gave him his coordinates.

Taehyung cursed and kicked the table as his partner raised an eyebrow in question.

“That damn brat” was all he said before nudging Jimin into the car, speeding off.

Jungkook dusted the bag and gave it to the girl who muttered a “thank you”. Heck even her accent was cute and her voice had a lilt to it.

Before he could say something, the siren indicated that they were here. He looked down at the bound man who was glaring daggers at him.

Jimin stepped out first looking at Jungkook and then the man. “why am I not surprised? Of course you would throw yourself in harm’s way with 0 afterthought, Seokjin would have our skins as doormats if anything happened to you,brat.”

Taehyung looked at the man, amused.

“Can’t believe a kid took you down and those are some good knots, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re into some hardcore Shibari shit, Jungkook-ah”

Jungkook only reddened in response as the girl smirked at him.

Taehyung then looked at her and asked if they could ask her a few questions, she was free to go then. She nodded in assent and answered them, truthfully as Jungkook watched in rapt attention.

Jimin noticed and winked at him, wiggling his eyebrows, making Jungkook squeak and turn his head.

The detectives, satisfied thanked Jungkook after taking his statement as well.

“We’ll get all from him, but kiddo, next time you pull a stunt like this, do give us a call before jumping blindly, what if the other man was armed? and do mail us all the evidence you found, your ramyun and chips will be at your door by evening”

He smiled and waved them off before realising the girl was still there.

“So how does coffee sound?”

“Truthfully, Yakult is better than coffee, coffee is too strong for my nose” he replied, tapping his nose and shrugging. He looked at his watch.

“Oh dang I’m late for lunch again, hyung’s going to break my legs but I don’t need to buy snacks now so yess” he mumbled to himself.

The girl shook her head in amusement.

“I-I gotta run, have a nice day.Be safe” he bowed to her before taking off, picking his bike up and speeding his way over to home. Oh he was so dead today!

OMAKE

“You mean she asked me out on a date and I messed it up?” Jungkook groaned as Seokjin burst into laughter at his obliviousness.

Maybe he could spot her next time he was in downtown? It wouldn’t hurt to have her number. He flopped on the bed groaning and cursing. Atleast his Miku chan was still by his bedside to cheer him.

The End!

[pyropsychiccollector]

            Elfman breathed heavily as he rested his hands on his knees, hunched over.

            “So… did we finally win…?”

            Lisanna smiled as she noticed Ajeel wasn’t standing back up.

            “Looks like it…”

            “The one with the stronger ideology will always win! Love is a powerful feeling, oh YEAH!” Richard gushed, causing Lisanna to giggle and Elfman to sweatdrop.

            “… Always with the love preaching with this guy…”

            “I think it’s cute~…” Lisanna mused happily.

            Down in the dirt, Ajeel looked up at his celebrating enemies with a twitching gaze.

            “It’s… not over… I’m not… finished yet, ya naïve Fairies…!” His eyes widened as a figure hobbled in-between him and his three opponents. “Gramps?!”

            “This war has taken a toll on both sides…” Yajeel muttered regretfully. “Please, can put an end to it…?”

            Elfman arched an eyebrow.

            “This war? All wars lead to the same result…”

            “You just never noticed ‘cause you win all your wars…” Lisanna agreed, quietly.

            Yajeel stared down at the ground, becoming more depressed.

            “… I don’t care if you decide to kill me… But please, spare my grandson…”

            Ajeel pounded the dirt with his fist as he struggled to raise his head up.

            “Don’t beg for my life, Gramps! I can still win…!”

            “We’ve never sought to kill anyone.” Lisanna told Yajeel, smiling as gently as she could. “Take your grandson home and live happily together… That’s all we want.”

            Yajeel didn’t dare raise his head, but he shed tears of gratitude. Elfman ruffled the top of Lisanna’s head.

            “No one understands the importance of family like we do! Everyone in Fairy Tail is like family, but Lisanna’s my only real little Sis!”

            Ajeel looked up at the pair of white-haired siblings, dumbfounded.

            “You’re brother and sister?! But you look nothing alike…”

            “Shaddup!” Elfman griped.

            “You and your Grandpa don’t look alike, either…” Lisanna giggled. Meanwhile, Richard was so overwhelmed by the camaraderie between once enemies that he ran over and hugged Yajeel and Ajeel both.

            “Such love…! I’m so happy for you both!” Richard was crying tears of joy.

            Ajeel twitched again, but only mildly annoyed.

            “You’re still obnoxious with that love stuff…. Geez…”

            ~*~

            A chill went down the length of Brandish’s whole body the moment she registered that she was once again in control of her body… The most obvious sign being the collar around her neck that melted away. She barely had time to process this before she was punched by Makarov and sent sprawling on her back with a thundering crash.

            And rather than get back up in retaliation to the strike… Brandish remained there flat on her back, staring up at the sky with a mixture of shock, pain, and regret swirling in her eyes. Kagura, seeming to notice this change in demeanor in her opponent, hopped up on Brandish’s cheek before jumping to the tip of Brandish’s nose, glaring down into her eyes.

            “I take it you have finally accepted your defeat…?” She asked coldly. Brandish couldn’t move a muscle. She continued to stare up listlessly into the sky.

            “… I lost the moment that I let Invel control me.” Though Brandish’s voice rumbled due to her size, there was a quiet, defeated quality to it. “So no, I will not fight you anymore…”

            Makarov stomped over to her, his pupil-less glowing eyes glaring scaldingly down at her face.

            “You claim it was Invel who made you slaughter my children…?”

            Brandish averted her eyes without turning her head so as to not force Kagura to move.

            “I’m still responsible for every last death… I have no excuse for it. All Invel did was kill off my heart and command me to exterminate your Guild… The blood remains on my hands. I won’t stop you if you seek retribution… Just get it over with.”

            An uncomfortable silence fell over them. Kagura’s glare remained unyielding, but Makarov turned his burning rage away from her.

            “No… If you have surrendered unconditionally, I will not kill you. That is not the Fairy Tail way. You must live and pay penance for your part in this war.”

            Brandish closed her eyes sorrowfully.

            “… If that is what you wish.” She shrunk down to her normal size, making Kagura leap off of her. She remained on the ground for a while, unmoving. Makarov shrunk down as well; his gaze was still hot with fury, but still he barely cast any of it onto Brandish.

            “I would speak with August now. This senseless bloodshed must end now.”

            Brandish reopened her eyes slowly, her face remained blank.

            ~*~

            From atop Kardia Cathedral, August looked out at the battlefield shrewdly. The harsh blizzard had died down. Brandish, free from Invel’s enslavement Magic, had been beaten down once she had regained control of her body and realized it, shocked beyond belief at what she had done… August could also feel the disturbance Dimaria had made with her Magic had been quelled as well, leaving the battlefield rather scarce of Spriggan Shields… Neinhart was still functioning, but if events continued progressing the way they were, he too would fall. Ajeel seemed to come to terms with his own defeat. The Historias had been dealt with, and Jacob lay defeated.

            “It seems the time has come to speak with Irene…” The Magic King heaved an airy sigh. He remained out of the fight to see how far Fairy Tail would manage to get… and their tenacity was remarkable. He could freely admit that, after seeing Fairy Tail struggle so valiantly, he was much keener to negotiate with them. At the very least, they should set aside their feud until Acnologia was dealt with… August’s eyes snapped wide open as he felt a disturbance in the air, recognizing instantly what was happening. “Irene… you would go this far?”

            The Magic King gripped his staff harshly. The Spriggan 12 in fighting shape had been whittled down to a measly two – only the mightiest remaining – and still Irene chose to go this far. He was revolted by her vulgar cruelty, and it stirred a rage within him that nearly bubbled over.

            And yet…

            “I will not raise a hand against Alvarez.” August firmly declared. “Nor can I in good faith defend a country that Alvarez has branded an enemy… I will allow Fairy Tail to deal with you, Irene, but mark my words: I will have you court-martialed for this. The toll for this decision will be too steep…”

            The aged men let out a gruff snarl. He knew Irene would not stop here. She was not known for lenience and moderation. Irene Belserion was the Crimson Despair, and the battlefield would indeed run red with blood this day…

            ~*~

            Irene yanked Mavis by the hair as they stepped outside the Guildhall. She stopped at the edge of the top of the hill to gaze upon the battlefield.

            “Your Guild… gets under my skin, little girl…” Irene cruelly smirked. “The Spriggan 12 are practically extinct, and August won’t lift a finger! I have no doubt your stubborn pawns will crawl their way up here, if left alone. So I will do what August will not… and exterminate the pests. Enchant… Berserker!”

            The redhead spread out her free arm, casting a glow that could be seen all around Magnolia. And down below, all of the thousands of remaining Alvarez soldiers started to glow, too – moaning in pain as their bodies mutated. Erza, standing over a defeated Neinhart, stared warily at the nearby soldiers who had previously been retreating from her general area. Other Fairy Tail members near the scarlet knight were taking notice of this development.

            “What the?!” Max exclaimed.

            “The enemy soldiers are acting strangely!” Warren observed.

            The transformations ended abruptly, and the soldiers roared monstrously as their forms had become much stronger but their sanity was stripped away. The soldiers surrounding Erza and her allies charged, intent on striking down the Fairy Tail Wizards. Erza blocked their path, but she was knocked back from their brute strength.

            “Erza…!” Warren cried out distressfully. Erza stood her ground as best as she could manage.

            “The enemy army’s combat capabilities have been significantly upgraded!!” The scarlet knight warned everybody to keep their distance. Cana gritted her teeth.

            “Tch! We already had our hands full with their overwhelming numbers… and now this…!”

            Makarov stared at the new carnage with a grim expression. Up on the hill, Irene hummed thoughtfully.

            “’Berserker’ amplifies their powers many times over. Its one occasional drawback is that they lose their ability to reason… But I digress.” She lifted Mavis’s head up by tugging on her hair. “I wonder how your pawns will counter this, Mavis…?”

            Erza changed out of the armor she was in and switched to her Clear Heart Armor, choosing to pour her Magic into offense for now. She charged a crowd of soldiers and slashed at them with her sword, and they did indeed reel back… But instead of falling over, they recovered and let out more inhuman roars.

            “That’s just great… on top of everything, you’re telling me they don’t feel pain?!” Max exclaimed in outrage.

            Much to Fairy Tail’s regret, the tide of war was changing back in the enemy’s favor… And if it kept going this way, they were going to get slaughtered. Even the S-Class mages were feeling the pressure. Erza. Laxus. Mirajane. Gildarts. And that said nothing of the significantly less powerful mages, like Mest, Vijeeter, Nab, Max, and Warren… Makarov steeled himself for what he was about to do, after seeing his Guild in such agony.

            “Is this… where we make our final stand?” Makarov wondered.

            “Master, we mustn’t give up…!” Erza pleaded with the man, fighting as ferociously as she could manage. “I will create a path… give us an opening… no matter the cost!!!”

            Makarov laid one hand on top of the other, shutting his eyes.

            “So this is where it finally comes to an end… my long journey…”

            Seeing what Makarov was doing, some of his Guildmates felt like they were getting a second wind.

            “That stance…!” Warren grinned.

            “It’s Fairy Law…!” Vijeeter smirked.

            “That’s right, we’ve still got that up our sleeve!” Max cheered.

            “This battle’s as good as one!” Cana was in high spirits, too.

            Some of the members of the Guild were wary of Makarov’s choice of words, though…

            “His journey… is ending…?” Mira asked in confusion.

            Up on the hill, Mavis’s eyes widened as she realized exactly what Makarov was going to do in response to this threat. And she was not happy.

            “He absolutely mustn’t…!” Mavis ignored the raised eyebrow from Irene. ‘Fairy Law is a Magic which shaves away at one’s very life in direct proportion to the amount of enemies on which it’s cast! If he uses it on such a large force, his body will not be able to endure it…! Please stop, Makarov!!!’

            She screamed into the telepathic link that Warren still had set up. But Makarov kept his hands clasped together in a prayer pose.

            ‘First Master, I am well aware of the burden of Fairy Law… I beg of you, do not stop me. The time has come for me to make my grand exit. To join that rambunctious Pyro on the other side���!’

            Mavis’s eyes quivered sorrowfully as Irene maintained her grip on her head.

            ‘I… I have a plan!! I’ve formulated a strategy which ensures our escape from this dire situation!’ Mavis knew she was bluffing at this point, because she was too scared of Makarov dying on everyone… on her…

            “Enough!!!” Makarov bellowed, making Mavis go quiet. ‘My precious little brats are suffering right before my eyes! They’re being beaten and bruised on this hellish battlefield as we speak! To you, they may be nothing more than soldiers you can maneuver… But to me, these brats are my irreplaceable children!’

            Mavis squirmed.

            ‘I… that’s not…!’

            ‘I know it all too well!’ Makarov denied any excuses the First was trying to formulate. ‘If we but follow your plan, we will surely seize the momentum and come out victorious! But that matters not! I cannot bear to stand idly by and watch my family’s blood be shed any longer! With the last few remaining years of this old soldier’s life… If I can use them to create a bright future for these brats… Well… Then I know what I must do… My job is a simple one.’

            “Master?!” Erza screamed, as she listened on the conversation between Makarov and Mavis like everyone else. But Makarov smiled even as she turned to him.

            “Listen well, Erza…”

            “No!” Erza wailed frantically. “I will not… I refuse to listen!! We must return to the Guild… all of us together!!!”

            Makarov took a deep breath as he launched into his final speech.

            “No matter what hardships may fall upon you from here on out… If you walk hand-in-hand with your friends and allies, there will always be a path forward! Believe in your friends… and believe in yourself! A guild is a family… Do not ever forget that. Thanks to all of you, my journey was one filled with an abundance of elation and jubilation!”

            “MASTEEER!!!” Erza shrieked as the other members of the Guild cried around them.

            “Perhaps my only regret was not reeling that knucklehead in before he died… But even then, he turned out to be a fine young man, don’t you think, Erza?” Makarov’s smile widened. He then closed his eyes solemnly. “All of you… be well! I invoke… Fairy Law!!!”

            An ocean of light burst out from the ground and enveloped so much of the battlefield… The Fairy Tail members wept for their Master, who was making such a sacrifice for them, and Irene, Mavis, and August looked on in awe as the battlefield was painted white for what seemed like an eternity… When it died down, there was large amounts of dust kicked up into the air, creating dense clouds. Erza stared numbly as her Master remained stuck in his heroic pose, head bowed, as the life was clearly extinguished from him. He did not collapse, however… Miraculously, he stayed standing in that pose. Like an undying symbol of their Guild’s fire and tenacity… Makarov had dedicated his life to Fairy Tail, and he served as an example to all that he called his children.

            Erza shed more tears as she stood there speechless for several moments. All around the battlefield, throughout Magnolia, thousands of soldiers had been wiped out. Tens of thousands. Hundreds of thousands. Master Makarov had nearly won them the war with that one attack, and it would be so easy to return home and reclaim their First Master now…

            But the price was still too high. Erza sank to her knees and prostrated herself, forehead touching the ground in her deep, respectful bow.

            ‘To have been able to grow up as your child… I was happy beyond words.’

            Mavis, too, wanted nothing more than to sink her knees and cry her heart out. However, Irene would not allow it.

            “H…How many was that…? How many did he take out?”

            Irene rubbed her chin thoughtfully.

            “I’d say roughly 70-80% of all Alvarez soldiers. If I were to make a quick estimate.”

            Mavis’s eyes widened further at hearing that estimate. Then her eyes rippled as fresh tears trailed down her cheeks and she smiled bitterly.

            “I’d expect nothing less from him… He was an outstanding mage.”

            “That being said…” Irene continued on airily. “There were no casualties among the remaining members of the twelve. Though I’ll admit they were beaten down, sans August and myself… The flow of battle is unlikely to change in any significant way from this point forth. August is a wishy-washy bystander – willing to negotiate, but will not betray his country. Even if it’s me, who he disagrees with on so many matters, he will not help you. And there is no one in your precious Guild who can stand up to me. August and I are on our own level in sorcery… Since the others were so inept, I will exterminate Fairy Tail and its allies by myself. And I will enjoy it!”          

            Flinging Mavis back into the Guildhall, Irene slammed her staff on the ground and threw up an Enchantment that would prevent Mavis from leaving and others from entering. One that she knew only she would be able to break. A twisted, cruel smirk was plastered on Irene’s lips, her face darkly promising a horrific death for all of her enemies.

            ~*~

            Gajeel flashed a toothy smirk as he leaped off a pile of defeated soldiers.

            “Gihi… Gramps sure cut them down to size… I’m sure glad he was on our side. Look at this!” Gajeel gestured at such a large, breathable space. The bodies of Alvarez troops littered the streets, buildings, and other areas, but none of them were going to pose a threat. Not anymore.

            Levy’s head was bowed as her tears fell onto the dirt.

            “Weren’t you listening…? Master is…!” She sobbed, unable to finish that sentence. Gajeel’s grin dimmed at seeing Levy’s state.

            “… I know, squirt.” He dipped his head, staring down at his clenching and unclenching hand while his bangs fell over his eyes.

            “Then… why…?” Levy looked up at him, only mildly accusing him with a glare.

            “Because we don’t got the time to bury our dead yet!” Gajeel snapped, a little too forceful than he meant to, but he didn’t apologize. “… We still got a war to wrap up, shrimp. Gramps thinned the herd, but we’re still stuck in this… distorted Magnolia. What does that tell us?”

            Levy bit her lip as she looked around warily. Indeed, Magnolia seemed a bit… disorderly in its layout. It was subtle, but it was rearranged for defensive purposes, to keep Fairy Tail away from the Guild. The hill that the Guild was on that rose high into the sky was the biggest indicator of this.

            “… That there’s still Spriggan Shields out there…”

            “Exactly.” Gajeel grunted. He lifted up a soldier for emphasis. “There’s no way one of these pansies cast that Spell. These guys are the meatshields. I dunno how many Spriggans are left, but I bet you my bottom dollar that there’s at least one left, even after that last attack… It’s not over yet.”

            Levy teared up more as that sank in for her. Despite Master’s sacrifice, it wasn’t over yet… How much more would they have to lose?

            “Heeey! Gajeel…!”

            The Iron Dragon Slayer and Script user looked up at the sound of the familiar voice. Gajeel blinked owlishly as the blond teen came running up to them.

            “You’re only just now getting here? Sheesh. That Spell musta sent you miles away… We’re getting to the nitty-gritty here!”

            Sting twitched, a vein pulsing on his forehead as he shook his fist at Gajeel.

            “Cut me some slack! I was all by myself, and I stink with directions! Not to mention the world’s all outta whack… I mean, Crocus is, like, within a mile of Magnolia. That ain’t right!”

            Gajeel rubbed his chin, scowl deepening.

            “Yep… Definitely a Spriggan Shield’s work… But how the hell do ya fight someone who can play around with the world itself?” He muttered lowly to himself.

            Levy smiled wryly at Sting, bringing him up to speed on everything they caught wind of through Warren’s telepathy. When she was finished, Sting’s face had become much more solemn.

            “Damn… Guess you guys did start the party without me. And Master Makarov took out most of the enemy with a single attack? Sounds just like him…” Sting trailed off, his eyes fogging over with uncertainty a little.  He stared up at Gajeel. “Hey… Can you tell me somethin’? Where’s… Natsu been in all this? It’s weird you’ve brought up all these big fights, and he hasn’t even been in one… At least from what you told me.”

            The Iron Dragon Slayer grunted as Sting picked up on that little detail. Of course Levy would gloss over that bit of news, which happened way before the world went to hell… And looking over at her, he could tell she wasn’t in any shape to inform Sting.

            He closed his eyes, steeling himself for Sting’s outburst.

            “… Salamander’s dead. He killed Zeref before we were all sent out to back you guys up, and he died in the process.”

            No verbal outburst came. Gajeel reopened his to see Sting overcome with a pensive expression, eyes trained on the ground. His hands were unclenched, and there wasn’t really anything that could reveal what the blond had going through his head. After a while, he clenched his fists, but his face remained unreadable.

            “So… he’s really dead…” His voice was empty and hollow. Levy cringed, but Gajeel narrowed his eyes.

            “Don’t tell me you’re flakin’ out… I don’t buy it that you’re depressed. You’re the kinda guy to blow up over shit like this… Don’t bottle it all in.”

            Sting scoffed, raising a twitching hand to face level.

            “So, what? I’m supposed ta blow up at you guys? No way in hell. I might be a hothead, but I’m not stupid! Venting at you guys won’t solve anything… I’ll pay these losers back a hundredfold for Natsu’s death, but I’m not gonna take it out on you guys. It’s thanks to Natsu, and Fairy Tail, that I turned my life around! If he died takin’ out the leader of Alvarez, least I can do is help take the rest of these assholes out… not to mention Acnologia. We’ve gotta do it for Natsu!”

            As Sting declared this with nothing but conviction in his voice and determination in his eyes, Gajeel could only stare at the young Guildmaster. Levy, too, was surprised by how much maturity the blond was showing.

            ‘Natsu, you really did a number on this little punk… He’s come of age.’ Gajeel thought, acknowledging both Dragon Slayers with respect. Levy bit her lower lip, stuck in her own thoughts.

            ‘Natsu, I hope you’re watching… Your spirit and passion is living on through the people you inspired!’ A small, sad smile formed on her lips.

            Out of sight, out of smelling distance from Gajeel, Laxus leaned against the wall of a crumbled building, hidden in the shadows. He craned his head up and stared at the sky contemplatively.

            ~*~

            Slowly, Irene hovered across the sky as she stared down at her enemies, who were regrouping. She had gone unnoticed at first, but slowly, they were becoming aware of her presence as she leaked out more and more of her Magic power. She hummed noncommittally.

            “Now, where do I even begin…?” She turned around slowly as she hovered around, taking in all of her targets. “A volcanic eruption? A meteor shower? So many options, but which is the most brutal and cruel…”

            As she came to a stop, Irene suddenly smirked. Something was flying at her backside with high speed and power. Within a few moments, her opponent could probably land a solid hit… But…

            “I’m not in the mood for playing around with you children anymore…!” Irene’s face became outright malicious as she whipped around at the last second and pierced her staff through Mira’s stomach violently, blood and guts exploding outward from the impact. Irene had enchanted her staff to have the consistency of a steel blade. Mira coughed up gobs of blood, but not a fleck of it got onto Irene as they floated there for a few moments. When Mira reverted back to her human form, Irene cupped her chin cruelly, uncaring that the light was slowly fading from the white-haired woman’s eyes. “You really were brazen, to attack the Queen of Alvarez in such a way… Be a good girl and go join your decrepit Guildmaster and vile demonic Dragon Slayer… Don’t worry, your friends will be right behind you!”

            Coldly, and smoothly, Irene yanked out her staff and watched as Mira, unable to keep herself air-bound anymore, plummeted and thunderously crashed through the remains of a ruined building. As Irene had chosen to intercept Mira in the air, the cruel act was equivalent to a public execution. Many began to panic with how much ease the Crimson Despair had taken down the Demon of Fairy Tail, and many were concerned for the white-haired woman.

            But of course, none screamed louder than Mirajane’s sister.

            “MIRAAA!”

[ravikantok-blog]

9 Effective SEO Strategies that work for small business owners

Small businesses are very crucial yet Digital marketing makes it easier to have a chance for brand positioning, marketing, and promotion.

SEO is an unpaid marketing gig and the most influential weapon in the hands of the small businesses, therefore we will analyze 8 of the strategies that can help you create a successful online presence through SEO marketing:

1.     Thorough with Website

The website is the online face of your brand and it has to be completely optimized. From content to UX and UI, it must be on point.

If a user lands on your website while searching, they should be impressed with the information, the speed, the layout and everything that adds value to their time.

Most importantly, they must gain the information they landed your website for so that they get a reason to come back again. So, use tools that help you optimize your website to an optimal level.

2.     Understanding your User

What is that your user expects from your brand can give you a lot of Intel and edge over competitors who not really monitor this. Understanding your User has a lot of benefits: Enhances the scope of bettering the product

Personal relations with the user

Create brand loyalty from consumer ends

Organic reach because of referrals, reviews, and recommendations

Your growth and your downfall can be estimated instantly due to close client relations

Therefore, invest time in understanding your user for a fruitful SEO strategy.

3.     Stay updated and upgraded

Having your website made isn’t just a onetime hassle, it is a long process of incorporating and removing what is obsolete.

SEO heavily depends on UX and UI, therefore, upgrading and updating your website time to time is important to maintain and even up your ranking in the quest of search engine optimization.

4.     Effective Keywords

Keywords are the reason your Blog stands a chance to have ranked well in the SEO game. Whichever article will have an appropriate amount of keywords will definitely have a higher SEO rank that will lead to your website to be in the top searches.

It mustn’t be just blogs but the content on the website as well needs proper optimization as per keywords to rank well in SEO.

Therefore, using effective keywords makes the process of ranking seamless for your website in the search engine.

5.     Focus on Visual Content

A website with a lot of written content won’t suffice. A user will not be excited and informed enough in the first 30 seconds and that might lead to a higher page bounce rate.

Use a lot of info graphics, photo and video content to engage the audience for a longer duration, so that they are encouraged enough to browse through all the landing pages while they read and see solid quality content.

6.     Focus on User’s queries

As much as blog posts help in solving queries of the users and make your customer base more aware of the product/service they are about to purchase/avail.

But there in the comment section, the same people leave in queries as well because sometimes, blog posts are not enough to cater to these queries.

Therefore, make them, the point of concern and try to answer many again in the form of blog posts, as that will create fresh content, along with that, queries will be met!

7.     Choose your Data Wisely

Analytics which help you understand and use your power of SEO effectively needs to be filtered as well. Which analytic is beneficial to be acted upon and at what time, makes this difference. Therefore, you must keep a check on the following things:

Traffic on your website

Your website traffic’s source

From where you are getting maximum conversion

The strategy which is working in favor of that traffic

The most popular categories and web pages

Amount visitors which got converted into actual leads

Amount of Real customers

8.     Engagement

How many people, organizations and relevant peers are making a conversation over your content, how much of an “engagement” can your platform create, makes a lot of difference and that is the very organic way to build your platform and such engagements goes a long way in taking your venture to the road of success.

So, these are 8 tricks in which your SEO can help you build your Small business.

By Doors Studio - Seo company in India

[digitalafa]

How to Turn Your First Customers Into Loyal Customers

This article was written by Derek Goodman - Inbizability.com

As a new e-commerce entrepreneur, you've probably already realized how difficult it is to get your business off the ground. You need to think about your products, your drop-shipping procedures, your employees, your marketing, your budget, and a dozen other important aspects. But you mustn't neglect your customers if you want to turn your first customers into loyal customers. Read on for some ideas about how to do this.

Write a Business Plan

A business plan is a document that describes your business, its objectives, strategies, and plans for achieving them. It also outlines the financial resources you will need to achieve your goals. Writing a business plan can seem daunting, but it doesn't have to be. Start by doing some research on similar businesses in your industry. This will give you a good idea of the competition and what you need to do to stand out. Next, define your target market and describe your niche. Then, articulate your business objectives and develop strategies for achieving them.

Make Your Website Shine

Your customers will keep coming back if your website is clear and easy to navigate. Customers should be able to find exactly what they're looking for with only a few clicks. Order procedures and contact information should be visible so that customers always know what to do and whom to contact for help. Your website's search function must also be reliable, and security is a top priority. Customers won't return if they don't feel their financial data is safe.

To create an attractive, functional, and responsive website that will boost your profits, work with the web design and digital marketing professionals at AMA Consulting Services.

Spark Interest in Social Media

Your social media accounts can also help turn your first customers into loyal customers. Post all kinds of interesting information on your sites. This might include promotions or coupons, but you could also draw customers' attention by offering them unique tidbits about your products or ideas about how to use them more effectively. Highlight little-known facts about your company as well. People will keep coming back to see what's new.

Invest in Accounting Software to Manage Inventory

For any business, large or small, inventory management is a crucial task. Not only do you need to keep track of what you have in stock, but you also need to be able to forecast future needs and ensure that you always have the right products on hand to keep your customers happy. When you upgrade your company's accounting software, you’ll have an easy way to track your inventory levels.

Be Mobile Friendly

Most people use their phones and other mobile devices for just about everything these days. Therefore, your business should be mobile-friendly. Your website must be easy to access and search even from a small screen. Try a mobile-friendly template and remember that touch screens require larger buttons. Avoid pop-ups, too, and think in terms of loading speed. People might not stick around if your website fails to load on their phones, and you could lose sales.

Put Procedures in Place

Customers demand timely service, so make sure you're giving it to them by developing a set of procedures to streamline your ordering and shipping tasks. As a drop-shipping business, you must stay right on top of always obtaining your products from the wholesaler or supplier. When an order comes in, place your own order at once, then send the product to the customer immediately after it arrives. This kind of quick turnaround keeps customers coming back.

Boost Your Marketing

As an e-commerce business, you don't have a physical store where people can stop in to look around, so you must rely even more on top-notch marketing to attract and retain customers. Create a sales and marketing plan for your business that lays out various strategies, but also do your research. Study your competition to see what they're doing. Look closely at market trends and explore the preferences of your customers. This helps you determine what works and what doesn't in terms of marketing, and it might even help with funding your business.

Keep Those Customers

If you follow some of these tips, your first customers may well become loyal customers who purchase your products for many years to come.

[niksethi]

#1000wordsofsummer Day 3

I didn’t write yesterday, so I guess I’m shooting for 2000 words today. That will be a struggle since I literally have zero idea about what I should talk about today. But since the amount of words is so damn large, it’s totally worth it for me to spend some time just sharing my stream of consciousness.

I feel like whatever I’m doing or wherever I am, I’m constantly appraising the value of that activity or that place. As in, every movie I see or book I read, I think about how I’d rate it in a 1-5 scale. Every city I visit I try to place in my internal rankings of all of the cities that I’ve visited. It’s a weird thing that sometimes improves the quality of my experiences and sometimes degrades it, as I lose the plot in favor of trying to find some sort of specific combination of things that will give me clarity about how good or bad something is. When I was last watching a movie, Upgrade, in my head I would start at a value based on what I’d heard about the number and move it up and down throughout the movie based on how I felt about the different aspects of the mise en scene. At some point, I started to feel like I was becoming like the unfeeling robotic AI that was a key character in the movie.

I’ve been applying this same methodology to my time in NYC. There’s a lot to appreciate in NYC and a lot that’s not so great. Each moment I enjoy or hate contributes to my overall corpus of information that I’ll use to decide the BIG question I want to answer by the end of the summer - do I want to live here for some of my life? Every time that question really appears in my head, I have to remind myself of what my mentor Henrik told me, “the city will always be there, and it will always be easy to visit, too.” Although my question is fairly important, I mustn’t feel like the city will be inaccessible if I don’t decide to move here. One of the biggest cities in the world is only a single flight away from most major cities in the world. All that being said, I’m really starting to warm up to NYC as a whole. A few months ago, I was completely convinced that this city isn’t for me. As a shy introvert who enjoys quiet and avoiding crowds of people, what could I find in the most energetic city? How would I find the necessary solitude and time for reflection that I know I need just to keep my head above water?

It didn’t take long for me to start feeling the effects of the frantic energy that permeates the concrete jungle. Since day one, I’ve had to be very careful about my caffeine consumption, since my base anxiety levels have risen dramatically, making each cup of coffee a gamble that could either lead to being energized or to shakes and anxiety attacks. (As I write this, I sip on a cup of cold brew that keeps me teetering on that fine line between the two possibilities.) Yet, I feel like I’ve been fortunate to find spaces that help me recharge and escape the chaotic energy. Parks are ubiquitous in the city and it’s easy to just wander into any one in particular and just watch all of the good boys and good girls run around the dog park. I think what’s helped me the most to adapt to living in the city is giving myself permission to be alone. Despite the fact that there are so many people in the city, it’s incredibly easy to fall into this deep level of despair from loneliness. Initially, I was afraid of falling into this state, so I would spend all of my free time with people. It was enjoyable but also draining, and I would wake up each morning with so little energy. It turns out that I’m still extremely introverted and I really can’t handle that much social interaction. Since I’ve let myself spend more time with myself, I’ve been much happier. There are moments when I feel lonely, but I don’t really have a problem with that every now and then. I’ve also been lucky to meet some great people who make the time I do spend with people meaningful and enjoyable. I’ve had a lot of friends in my life who I would spend time with but it would feel like I was just a way to pass some time, rather than a friend or someone important to them. The energy people put into their social interactions can really change the dynamic of a hang out completely, and I wasn’t even aware how much it mattered until now.

On a less philosophical and “out there” level, NYC has so much to offer to me. I hate driving and I love the subway and how it can take me anywhere. I love the inherent strangeness of the average person and how people watching can be more interesting than watching a movie or reading a book. I love the great diversity of dogs that I see throughout the city. I love the kindness of immigrant business owners who seem so comfortable with their own culture and so eager to share it. I love seeing different cultures express on every street, be it tourists or people who live here, enthusiastically chatting in their own language (as I write this I see a group of beautiful French people greet each other with kisses, catching up in a way I can’t understand).  I love that finding a good meal is easy. I love dodging cars to get where I want to go and I love glaring at tourists who walk too slow or stop in the middle of the sidewalk. More than anything else, I love how accessible the city feels. It’s empowering when a city has everything in the world and all of it is just a train ride away. I feel as if I can do and start anything if I really want to since everything I could possibly need is so nearby. Like basically everything else in the entire world, the way to approach living in the city is through balance. I have to be continuously intentional in order to keep myself from losing myself to the hustle and bustle of everything that’s going on but also make sure that I maintain space for myself to breathe and relax when necessary.

This next part is kinda off-topic but it relates to doing stuff as a part of the hustle and bustle

On Friday, BuzzFeed Design invited the brand designer Mackey Saturday to come speak about his design work, as a part of our internal design speaker series Design Club. He was a great speaker who told the story of his career and how he worked to create iconic brand identities like the Oculus logo and the Instagram wordmark. His skill in creating beautiful and lasting visuals was really inspiring for me, someone who has always struggled to create visually interesting design work. Since my skills as a designer have mainly been on the problem-identification and research side, I was struck by the huge gap between his skills and mine. Coming into this summer, I knew I wanted to develop my skills as quickly as possible. I was unsure whether or not I wanted to focus on my “strengths” in the discovery phase of the design process or develop my “weaknesses” in visual design. When I spoke to our (now former) VP of Design Cap, he told me “I think you’re kinda early to be working on balancing things. If i were you I’d be working on as many different things as I can and stretching my skills as much as possible.” That brought me back to Earth and reminded me that I don’t really know as much as I thought.

Going forward, I want to focus on finding projects that will help me do that. To kick off, I’m thinking about exploring a branding project of some sort in order to really stretch my visual identity skills. Maybe I’ll do multiple or freelance or something. I really have no idea. Maybe I’ll tackle my personal branding project that I’ve been thinking about forever. It’s so weird and difficult to design for yourself since you don’t have a fresh set of eyes when you’re presenting to the client. It’s your own eyes the whole time! The big thing is that I want to be able to at least slightly do something related to design that manifests in the real world. I’ve made logos and designs that have been printed on t-shirts and hats before, but I don’t know if I was really designing for those purposes or fully accomplishing what I was aiming for. The bigger thing is that I don’t really like any of those designs (except for the art matters logo, that’s still beautiful other than the type).

One thing that I’ve noticed is that it’s really hard for me to get started on any visual projects. I think it might just be because I’m out of practice. Writing has been continuously easy for me since I’ve been consistently writing something once a week for nearly a year now and I’m not really falling out of my habit. With visual work, whether it’s illustration or interface design, I’m not doing it all the time so starting a project in that area just seems like an impossible task. I need to take the first step towards doing it so it will keep getting easier and easier, but until then maybe I’ll start just writing out my ideas before I get there. When I was scanning through the old design case studies on our company Basecamp (a wiki of sorts I guess), I noticed that some of the designers would create their initial prototype as a story or something written out. By forcing themselves to convert their ideas into words, they were able to iterate on the design without having to draw or mock anything up, which would be a relief for me while I languish in the difficulty of starting these visual projects.

Another idea relating to this that I’ve been pondering is finding external interests. Although I love design, I’ve always wanted to be more involved in filmmaking, animation, and music. I could very easily spend a lot of my time exploring these things and working on projects to advance my skills, but I’m leaning against doing that. The giant behemoth of the full-time job search looms over everything that I do, and not focusing on my career more than my interests stresses me out. But who knows? Every design interview seems to tell me to have external interests outside of design to become a better designer. There are just so many paths I can take, so many ways to spend my time and probably so many ways that I could make myself happy. I can’t possibly know what will be best for me. The only path that’s certain is the one that I decide to take and focus on. I want to escape my state of stasis that I’ve developed while trying to choose between the many potential options. I’ve been trying to adopt the mindset that the best decision is the decision made quickly and firmly. This is better than indecision since you can change later if things go wrong, or you have more time and energy to contribute to fixing things if the decision was the wrong one.

I’m roughly at 2000 words and I’m frankly exhausted, but I’m happy that I was able to do it!

[anawat2050]

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[healthcarecolumn]

Myths and Facts about Cardiac Surgery | Amandeep Hospital

A plethora of questions, queries and worries strike the person who has been suggested to undergo cardiac surgery. Often patients reach out to doctors with their concerns, facts, assumptions and figures to make sure whether undergoing heart surgery is necessary or can be delayed or cancelled. Said that people start  speculating about the operations and fall into the pit of assumptions.

In today’s digital era, misinformation is thriving on every platform whose aim is to make people aware which may cause danger to your heart more than anything else. So, you mustn’t believe everything said and read unless your doctor acknowledges it.

Myth vs Facts

Times are uncertain, but facts are not. For boosting your heart health, it is necessary that we separate facts from fiction. Here’s a list of common myths that need to be debunked as they stand nowhere on the scale of scientific relevance:

Myth 1: Cardiac surgery should be considered as the last resort of treatment.

Fact: Any unnecessary delay in getting surgical treatment once you are diagnosed with heart disease can cause irreparable damage. So, it is imperative to undergo cardiac surgical treatment as per doctor’s recommendation to get the best results of the procedure. Timely cardiac surgery reduces the risk of permanent health damage which can be fatal as well. So, considering the cardiac surgery as the last resort of treatment may put you in life-threatening danger.

Myth 2: Surgery is performed by taking the heart out of the body.

Fact: This is quite a common misconception that the heart is taken out of the body while performing the surgery. Whereas the matter of fact is heart is removed from the body while heart transplantation, else in every cardiac surgery only incision is made and the respective surgery takes place

Myth 3: Heart surgery will cause heart stroke or interrupt the brain functioning

Fact: Surgical interventions have seen drastic improvement by embracing modern technology and updated medical practices. Said that cardiac surgeries often have their postoperative complications, but the risk of heart stroke and improper brain functioning are very low. However, it is critically essential that the patient discusses his medical condition before the surgery to eliminate any prevailing risk.

Myth 4: Cardiac surgery is excruciating

Fact: Cardiac surgeries are performed once the person fully sleeps and becomes numb with the adequate amount of anaesthesia. Also, the anaesthetist remains in the operation theatre while the surgery is taking place to increase the dose of anaesthesia as per the requirement.

Myth 5: Robotic surgery is better

Fact: There is no conclusive evidence that robotic surgeries are better for the heart. It totally depends on the medical condition of the patient undergoing the treatment. One should be aware of robotic surgery before making it a choice as it has the capability of wiping off a large amount of your savings. Though it has its own set of benefits, the risks and success rate is the same as that of the other cardiac surgeries.

Myth 6: There is a total restriction on the physical activity of patients after undergoing cardiac surgery.

Fact: Total restriction on the physical activity of the patient is totally a false claim. The patients are allowed to resume with their routine lifestyle within 3–4 weeks of the operation accompanied with some dietary restrictions. But, the matter of fact is the doctor recommends you to exercise more often to stay healthy and fit. Under the guidance of a doctor, patients can go for jogging, running, swimming or any other physical activity after the surgery.

Myth 7: Cardiac surgery is very risky

Fact: With the upgraded technology and medical practices, the risk associated with cardiac surgeries like valve replacement surgery or bypass surgery is very less. Operations performed at the right time have the success rates of 98% or more.

The Bottom Line

Surgeries are considered complicated that are accompanied with their own sets of challenges, risks and rewards. But making assumptions or believing anything said may put your heart health in danger. If you are suffering from heart disease or your loved one is, you should go for what your doctor recommends and not what people say.

Most studies have found how the benefits of cardiac surgery. supersede the medications and non-surgical heart treatment, by giving both long healthy life and saving you from paying a considerable amount of unnecessary medical expenses.

With years of expertise and immense contribution to revolutionising cardiac healthcare, Amandeep Hospital is the foremost medical institution performing cardiac surgeries with higher success rates.

We prioritise your health and your wealth by giving the best optimal solutions and guidance related to heart problems. Deeply rooted in the code of ethics and values, our institution works to provide the best health care facility and not fulfil its business objectives.

[my-beloved-jeshua-blog]

Operating in the Supernatural Ability of Faith: the Stand, the Walk, the Rest.

Faith is a stand. To stand in faith means we will not be shaken, moved, displaced or uprooted. The ability to stand firm in faith depends on the depth of our roots. Roots lie beneath the surface. How deep your faith goes into Christ, how deeply rooted you are in Him will determine whether or not you withstand the storm.

Faith is also a walk. It is a lifestyle: ‘The just shall live by faith’.  It is not a vague notion or passive acceptance of whatever comes our way. That is blind superstition. ‘Que sera sera’. That is not faith! Faith is something far more empowering! Faith is active, faith is decisive. We exercise faith, we operate faith and it produces a result. And we release faith by speaking it. When faith moves; the ‘immovable’ moves! The ‘facts’ change. Circumstances respond, situations change. The impossible becomes possible! 

Faith is the entry point to the supernatural. Without faith we cannot know God. And without knowing God we cannot have faith, because faith is from God. Faith is God’s own ability. Everything God does, He does by faith. Faith is the language and the currency of heaven. Just as fear is the language and the currency of hell.

 There are many definitions of faith; one is that faith is the ability, given by God to man, to believe in the supernatural. That is: to believe beyond the natural, beyond reason, to believe for the impossible. It goes beyond human reason, logic and ability. Faith is a gift from God; and it is the ‘faith of God’ that we partake of - i.e we operate in the faith God operates in and in the same way He operates in it! Wow! 

Faith is a rest. ‘Be still and know that I am God’ is actually a reprimand to the nations and peoples of the earth not to be agitated, raging and turbulent but to be silent in reverent awe before the Almighty. When Jesus calmed the storm and commanded the wind to ‘be still’ - that literally meant ‘shut up’! He was rebuking the raging of the wind. We cannot be in faith, we cannot see God move and show that He is God unless we obey the command to ‘be still’.

 Faith is not an option, it is a command. It is not a suggestion, it is a requirement. To be in unbelief, to stay in anxiety and fear is simply disobedience. Faith trusts God and trust requires a letting go. God expects us to trust Him! He expects us to have faith!

Anxiety is nothing more than a refusal to relinquish control. We cling to the situation by meditating on worry. We find strange ‘comfort’ in covering every anxious thought imaginable. Worriers are often very intelligent people! But they think too much! I’d rather be simple. Over-thinking canexclude you from receiving the Kingdom like a child! Why do we find false security in meditating on the problem - as if that makes it somehow more manageable and tolerable?!

Anxiety is a choice to yield to those out of control, irrational and often contradicting thoughts and emotions. It’s a state of agitation and unrest. It’s a refusal to trust God. It’s choosing fear over faith. It’s rooted in unbelief: which is a sin. But it’s something of a pet that we love to be soft on. But sin is sin. Not popular or seeker-friendly, I know!

Quite recently I heard someone say: ‘Telling someone not to fear is like asking them to fly...They just can’t do it’. But the phrase: ‘Do not fear’ (or ‘fear not’)  appears 365 times in the Bible! (That’s once for every day of the year!) Jesus commands us NOT to fear! Why? Because He himself makes that doable for us because He takes the fear and the burdens off us! He breaks the yoke, the bondage of fear. A child of God is no longer a slave to fear - unless they want to be! ‘’O but you’re wrong Jesus, you don’t understand, I’ve got anxiety’. You can keep your anxiety if YOU choose to! Or you can come to Jesus, give him your yokes and burdens and find rest. Will you relinquish control of your life, all your cares to Him?

If we stay in anxiety we run around in circles with no exit strategy. We can’t get a grip, we fan the flames of panic and invite fear to take over. Then we submit to the rule of fear rather than the divine order and peace of God. This restless mental torture is not for the child of God! Fear is a spirit. The spirit of fear will imprison you and take your mind captive. Fear wants you to agree with it by getting fearful. It you submit to fear, you open the door to oppression, to darkness and to torment. Fear is from hell! Don’t entertain it! Don’t let it in! Slam the door on fear! Rebuke thoughts of fear! Refuse it! Submit to God, not to fear! ‘Submit to God, resist the devil and he will flee from you’. Tell fear to get out of here!

The best antidote to demonic fear is the have the ‘fear of the Lord’.  If we have the fear of the Lord, we will be innoculated against the fear of evil! We will have divine immunity to the spirit of fear.  The fear of the Lord does not mean a phobia, it means reverential fear, honour, respect and awe.  

‘The angel of the Lord encamps around those who fear Him and he delivers them’. This scripture came to me one night when I felt an attack of the spirit of fear wanting to come upon me. It came just at the point I was about to drop off to sleep. It was like a tangible force field. The spirit of fear was creeping around and it had to be dealt with or it would mean a disturbed night. So I immediately began to declare that scripture, and pled the power of the blood over myself and each member of my family. I rebuked fear and declared Psalm 23: ‘Yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death I will fear no evil for you are with me.....’and Psalm 91: ‘I shall not fear the terror by night....no evil shall befall me neither shall any plague or calamity come near my dwelling....for you give your angels charge over me.’’

‘God has not given you a spirit of fear but a spirit of power, love and a sound mind’. Three things overcome the spirit of fear: the power of the Holy Spirit, knowing (really knowing) the love of God and having a sound mind or ‘self-control’ / ‘self-discipline’.

The power of God! That is not human might! ‘Not by power, not by might but by my Spirit says the Lord’. He puts his power in us and it causes us to speak to the mountain: ‘Be moved!’ ‘You shall become a plain!’ The Spirit of faith is power and authority given to us by God!

The love of God: ‘There is no fear in love. Perfect love casts out fear.’ There is no room for fear when we are filled with the love of God! Love and fear can never co-exist. 

A sound mind: We need to garrison our minds against fear. We can’t be like a city without walls. Fear comes in through the mind. Through suggestion, through thoughts and if allowed entry will then move on to attack the heart and ultimately turn that heart to a heart of fear. That is a fear-filled person. Someone controlled by the spirit of fear. They need deliverance from a spirit of fear. That was me 20 years ago: a demon called ‘fear’; let’s be clear - a demon that audibly named itself ‘fear’ - specifically ‘fear of rejection’, that was rooted in my life to the point where it was part of my personality, manifested itself and came up to the surface. It was cast out with the help and prayer of a loving sister in the Lord who knew how to exercise authority! And yes, I was already a born-again, Spirit-filled Christian! 

Root fear our of your life! Stop living with it! Renounce it! Stop burying it and denying it.  Pull it out by the roots! Tell every root of fear in your life: ‘I curse you! Be dried up from the roots! Be removed from my life right now in the name of Jesus!’ And be filled with the Holy Spirit! He will cause the love of God to be ‘shed abroad’ in your heart and throughout your whole being - giving you a spiritual detox from the poison of fear in your system. All residue of fear will be flushed out of your thinking, your emotions, your reflexes, even your physical body, by the Holy Spirit! 

Declare: ‘Faith over fear!’ Decide to go forward in faith. From faith to faith! Don’t shrink back and yield to fear as many are being tempted to do at this time. You must determine to press forward. Jesus warned that in the End Times many would abandon the faith and fall away. Don’t let that be you! Strengthen your inner man. Build yourself up in faith by praying in the Spirit and you will go from faith to faith. If you don’t use it, you will lose it! You must exercise your faith, you must extend your faith, you need to constantly be hearing a fresh ‘Now Word’ from heaven to have faith for what your facing now! Yesterday’s faith will not work for today. You need to go to a higher level of faith. We can’t stay still, we can’t stay where we were in our walk of faith. It’s by definition a walk. We mustn’t stagnate. It’s forward in faith or backslide in unbelief. Stay alert and fight the good fight of faith! Fight against the spirit of unbelief that wants to steal your faith. Resist it or your eyes will close and you will no longer see, you will no longer care and Jesus will no longer be real to you. I have seen this happen to people and it breaks my heart. The spirit of unbelief leads to the spirit of apostasy and many are dropping their faith as Jesus prophesied. So let us be diligent to cherish, nurture and develop this precious gift called ‘faith’. 

I pray right now that you will receive an increase in the power of supernatural faith! Lift your hands and receive it! In the name of Jesus I release and impart to you now the spirit of faith. Take it! I declare an upgrade and an increase in your faith now!  

By the Spirit of faith, rise up now and rebuke fear. The spirit of fear recognises the spirit of faith and has to obey it! Like the wind and waves obeyed Jesus! 

[theseviolentdelightss]

Counting Paths IV

Series Summary: After a lifetime on the run from the Empire, Reader makes a move that could have drastic impacts for both friend and foe. A Reader insert/fanfic. Gifs belong to their respective owners.

Word Count:2342

Author’s Note: Again, thank you all so much for reading and taking the time to like and reblog. I’m really enjoying writing this story and once work slows down I will be updating more frequently. 

Part I Part II Part III 

The sound of screaming was what woke you. Frantic, and unnerving as if someone somewhere was being ripped apart slowly. It wasn't until your eyes adjusted to the bright lights surrounding you that you realized the screams had come from yourself. Goosebumps covered every inch of your body, blanketed in cold sweat. You had been dreaming again, as you always did, the same terrible nightmare. Instinctively you found yourself staring at your own hands, they were trembling but were blessedly free of blood. Slowly you began to regain your composure, focusing on your breathing. In an out. You couldn't remember where you were. The ceiling tiles above you looked nothing like the inside of your ship. The feeling of relief quickly dissipated with the understanding that you had not merely dozed off at the controls again or passed out in your cabin after yet another exhausting job. All around you machines beeped loudly, the sound of feet hurrying across tile floor, none of which you were expecting.

You hadn't expected to see him either. You weren't sure how it was that you hadn't noticed him leaning over you or the feeling of his warm hands pushing you back into the unfamiliar bed. His mouth was moving but it was as if you were trapped under leagues of water. None of what he said reached your ears. Instead you read the expression on his face. The concern in his eyes. You weren't sure what you had done to deserve such tender kindness. The confusion must have been apparent on your face as his hands began to move up and down your arms. A simple gesture that succeeded in bringing you back to reality. Piece by piece the memories fell into place.

The blood you spilled on cold sand, the wounds you had treated, landing on Yavin 4.

“Cassian?” You muttered, your voice sounding far weaker than you preferred.  A small smile pulled at the corner of his thin lips, relieved that at last you had recognized him. Nodding he took a hold of your wrist as you reached for the injury you had received. It was a poor payment for bringing him back safely.

“Don't, don't touch it.” He spoke gently. It had taken two nurses to stem the flow of blood long enough to stitch the gash in your head. For such a small woman you sure could take a hit. Granted you had passed out shortly after.

“Where the hell are we?” You asked, looking around and trying to assess your location. Everything was white, almost blinding, nothing seemed willing to stay in focus. With every blink your vision blurred.

“We're in the med bay on Yavin.” He replied, letting go of his hold on you as he settled back into the chair he had pulled closer to your bedside.

“How long have I been out?” You voice slurred slightly as you spoke. They must have given you something for the pain. Most often you didn't care for such medical implements but today you would make an exception. After the welcome you received you were due a few reparations. It was the least the Rebellion could do.

“A few hours.” He replied, crossing his left leg over his knee. This was the most relaxed you had seen him since the two of you met.

“You look better.” You stated rather simply. It was true, he had obviously cleaned up while you slept. Trading in his stained and dirty clothing for a his usual rebel attire. Still, the tired in his eyes persisted and you wondered if it had anything to do with the state you were in.

“You look worse.” He smirked. You wished you had something to throw at him but settled for a cold glare. It mustn't have been too terribly intimidating because he simply chuckled in return.

“You can thank that asshole comrade of yours.” You grumbled, pushing yourself up in your bed. “Bastard hits like a newborn. He's lucky I don't have a thicker skull.”

“Well he's been assigned mess hall detail for the next month if it helps.” Cassian added, hoping it would be of some comfort.

“Good.” You replied, the edge returning to your voice. “Where's Theodren?”

“He's in a council meeting with Mon Mothma and Draven.” He answered, watching as you did your best to adjust to your newest circumstance. Cassian had known Theodren for awhile now. It wasn't until a year or so ago that he actually met the dwarf everyone spoke of and he did not disappoint. For everything the man lacked in height he made up for with extraordinary intelligence and a razor sharp wit. It was that very combination that had allowed him to climb the ranks so quickly. “You must mean a lot to him. I don't think I've ever seen him so livid.”

“Please tell me he didn't do anything foolish on my behalf.” You groaned, hoping that your old friend hadn't put himself in a compromising situation for your sake.

“You don't need to worry about him. Mothma and Draven know better than to put themselves on his bad side. “

“You admire him, don't you?” You couldn't help but smile.

The last time you had seen Theodren he was still struggling to gain the respect he so rightly deserved. To see Cassian speak highly of him reminded you as to why you had put your neck out for the dark haired rebel. It also made you swell with pride that Theodren had come so far in just a handful of years. You had always known he was destined for great things. Even if he never saw it in himself.

“I do.” Cassian replied, and as if on cue the white curtain surrounding your bed was pulled open and in hurried the very subject of your conversation.

“Theo!” You exclaimed as he rushed to your side. You gripped his hand tightly for the second time that day and allowed all of your worries to slip away for a moment. The small man smiled up at you, retaining his grip on your hand.

“Are you feeling alright?” He asked, the worry from before still illuminated in his eyes.

“Just a flesh wound.” You answered, doing your best to ignore the pain.

At that he smiled, happy to see that your sense of sarcasm was still very much intact. It was one of the main attributes that had drawn him to you years ago when you were each still green and untouched by the darker aspects of the rebellion. Time had changed you both though, rather drastically it would seem. A truth that neither one of you wished to voice out loud but were more than aware of.

“You know they're going to ask questions.” He admitted. You weren't surprised, particularly considering the manner of your return. It was to be expected. Still, you hadn't anticipated to be accused of deserting a cause you had dedicated years of your life to.

“I know.” Your voice was steady as you spoke. “That's why I'm here.”

Both Theodren and Cassian shared a glance as they leaned closer. You had caught their interest.  A part of you just wanted to admit it all, lay everything out on the table, but there was too much at stake. Plus, you could never be sure of who was listening. The Empire has ears everywhere.

“Well.” Theodren began, straightening himself and giving your hand another squeeze before pulling away. If it had been anyone else you might have been slightly offended but it was simply his way. For as long as you can remember Theodren had never been much for human contact. You suspected it was his old insecurities rearing their ugly head but you respected him enough not to address it. Everyone has their demons. “Mothma wants to meet with you at noon tomorrow. It will be a small deposition, a chance for you to tell your side of the story. She's rather curious as to what took place on Ryloth and most importantly where you've been the last five years.”

“Is that all?” You asked. “Or would she also like to know when I lost my virginity as well?”

Both Cassian and Theodren struggled to contain the laughter that crept up inside their throats. Each had become accustomed to having to inform the Alliance of nearly every detail in their lives. Even the most mundane of things. Secrets were not to be kept from those in charge.

“I can't imagine it would come up but on the off chance do try and remember.” Theodren did his best to sound serious but it only made you laugh. Even if doing so made your head throb it was a welcome change. You could hardly remember the last time you truly had. “In the mean time you'll be under Captain Andor's supervision.”

“So he's my warden is what your saying?” You sighed, settling back into the stark white blankets of the hard medical bed. Five years, and the rebellion still had yet to upgrade to something a bit more comfortable.

“No, he is simply responsible for making sure you don't do anything reckless until this mess is sorted out.” He was all business as he spoke and again you were reminded of how far he had come since you had seen him last. Rolling your eyes you turned your attention to Cassian as he remained silent in his seat.

“Well can I at least get out of this damn bed?” You grumbled, moving around in an attempt to get comfortable. “I've slept on ground softer than this.”

“You'll be discharged within the hour. Just promise me something.” Again Theodren took your hand in his own. “Don't do anything stupid.”

“You know me too well.” You smirked.

With one last squeeze of your hand he let go and promised to check in on you again later that night. Sighing you watched him walk away, leaving you again with the man you had just met, who was now responsible for your safe keeping until the Alliance decided what to do with you.

An hour and a half later and you were following Cassian through the various hallways that led to the officers quarters. With every step you took you could feel eyes following you. The endless stream of rebels passing by that had witnessed what had taken place on the hangar floor. They looked at you as if you had dragon snakes crawling out of your ears. Ignoring them the best you could you kept your head down until you at last found yourself standing in front of Cassian's room. After entering a series of numbers into the doors keypad it slid open in front of him. Stepping in behind him the light shining through the high and narrow windows revealed a rather neat cabin.

“I didn't peg you for a neat freak.” You chuckled lightly, trying to keep the knots swelling in your stomach at bay.

“Well I'm not usually here long enough for things to get messy.” Cassian replied as he pealed off his jacket and tossed it atop his bed. Moving slowly into the room you suppressed the want to turn and run, choosing instead to settle at the edge of the small bed that you assumed was meant for you. A tense silence hung in the air and for once you weren't sure how to break it. “Are you alright?”

Cassian's voice pulled you from your daze as you found him now standing in front of you. Brow furrowed, dark eyes set on you. For a moment you closed your own and tried calm your nerves. Clasping your hands together to keep them from trembling. After everything you had been through, after everything you lost, you weren't sure what it is you expected to happen. It seemed as if every time you thought you had a grasp on your circumstances they had already changed. The rug ripped out from under your feet.

“It's just...” You began, still unsure as to what compelled you to continue opening up to someone you had met only the night before. “I've always believed that there were many paths for everyone. Hanging in the air like ghosts. That all that was left to us was the choosing and; yet, out of the all the endless possibilities, all the infinite outcomes I keep finding myself going down the same path again and again.”

For a moment neither of you spoke, unsure of what to say. Moving closer Cassian placed a hand on your shoulder, causing you to raise your eyes to meet his own. Inside them you found a sense of understanding and felt as if the same thought had run through his own mind many times.

“Look you made the choice to come back here.” He began, knelling down until he was at eye level. “Just as you made a choice to put yourself at risk to save me. The way I see it, your path is what you make it.”

Sighing you merely nodded, watching as he turned away slowly and settled into the chair at his desk. It was the only bit of clutter inside the otherwise clean room. You could still feel the pain meds effecting you, causing your head to spin. Fighting the urge to settle into the soft mattress beneath you was hopeless. Giving in, you allowed yourself to rest your head against the smooth fabric. It smelled of clove aftershave, a welcome change from the chemical scent that had permeated through the med bay.

Perhaps Cassian was right. Maybe there wasn't some grand cycle set in motion for your life. No wheel of blood spinning round and round crushing any hope for a life beyond it. Yet, if there were, you were going to everything in your power to break it.