#thing is. i know exactly what they mean with that mass cover art

[aois-amaterasu-painting]

Gekirock - Uruha & Kai interview (2021)

The New 10th Album and a Message for the Present Day, Released After Nearly Three Years! "What We’re Always Conscious of, at the Core, is the Live Show."

The long-anticipated full album MASS from the GazettE has finally arrived, marking nearly three years since their last release, NINTH. What’s more, this new work is their 10th studio album. Following the cancellation of their milestone 18th anniversary live concert last spring due to the pandemic, the band has been working steadily behind the scenes. This production involved significant online collaboration, a necessity of the times. The completed album is imbued with meaningful messages reflective of this unique era. Naturally, the release of such a monumental work raises expectations for live performances. Stay tuned for future announcements!

Interviewer: It has been almost three years since your last album, NINTH (released in 2018), and now you’ve completed MASS. Could you first reflect on the journey the GazettE has taken over this time?

KAI: After releasing NINTH, we spent quite a lot of time on an extensive tour, so a significant portion of our efforts as a band went into that.

URUHA: We were touring on and off for over a year, after all.

Interviewer: Indeed, starting with the hall tour PHASE #01-PHENOMENON in July 2018, followed by the standing tour PHASE #02-ENHANCEMENT, the live house tour PHASE #03 -Passion is Ferocious, the world tour PHASE #04 -99.999-, the Japan homecoming semi-final performance PHASE #05 -Mixed-Blood, and the FINAL NINTH LIVE AT 09.23 YOKOHAMA ARENA in September 2019—this LIVE TOUR spanned 61 performances, covering not only Japan but North America, South America, Europe, Asia—a truly massive undertaking.

KAI: Yes, and since it’s hard for us to mentally shift toward starting new material until after the tour is fully completed, this album’s creation followed the same process as usual—beginning about a year after the tour ended.

Interviewer: So when did the band—or even the individual members—begin to form a vision for MASS, even vaguely?

URUHA: The vision became clearer as we progressed with production. There wasn’t any rush to establish a clear direction; instead, we took the time to carefully discuss and decide on our next steps together.

KAI: By the end of 2019, we held our first song selection meeting. After a series of discussions, we gradually narrowed it down, eventually settling on the 11 tracks included in this album.

Interviewer: On March 10 of last year, during what was likely the middle of your album production period, the 18th-anniversary live show “18TH ANNIVERSARY DAY/6576” was originally scheduled to take place at the Musashino Forest Sport Plaza Main Arena. However, the GazettE made the decision to cancel the event after carefully assessing the situation, even before the first state of emergency declaration was issued. After that, it seemed like the band's activities went completely silent. While I assume you were focusing on creating MASS behind the scenes, why didn’t you opt for the types of outreach many artists were doing at the time, like audience-free streaming concerts or video uploads on YouTube?

URUHA: That’s simply because we had already planned to enter the album production phase at that point.

KAI: Actually, we had our second song selection meeting even before March 10. After that, we stopped production temporarily to switch into live mode and started preparing for the anniversary concert. Unfortunately, it ended up being canceled. So, once that was decided, we just returned to production as planned.

Interviewer: I see. When did you actually start recording?

KAI: We recorded in multiple phases, and the first session was last summer. At that time, we recorded just one track, the lead tune of the album, BLINDING HOPE.

Interviewer: Speaking of BLINDING HOPE, could you share why this particular song was chosen as the lead track for the album?

URUHA: It was a song RUKI (vocals) wrote and presented right from the start saying “this has to be the lead.” When we listened to it, it had a convincing impact and a strong presence that made it clear it was perfect as the lead track. All the members agreed on that point without hesitation.

KAI: This isn’t specific to this album; RUKI always thinks about it holistically and presents the main song and album title at the same time. We listened to his thoughts on that and respected his wishes as we continued to produce the album.

Interviewer: From the perspective of each player, what kind of sound did you think needed to be captured for the lead tune, BLINDING HOPE?

KAI: The phrases were already quite developed in the original composition, so I just added some of my own arrangements here and there. As for the sound, it wasn’t just about my approach as a drummer. Instead, we started from the question, “What sound should the band aim for next?” and built from there.

Interviewer: I'm really curious about what kind of conversations you had within the band when you were searching for this "next sound we should aim for."

KAI: Each of us brought up different reference points, including sounds from various international artists, we did talk about wanting to aim for something that focused on a fairly natural sound at first. I think that was because we were conscious of going in the opposite direction to our previous album, NINTH.

Interviewer: When comparing MASS with NINTH, the difference is striking. NINTH had a densely packed, almost enclosed soundscape, but in this album, even the sound of the kick drum seems to carry more resonance and a sense of space.

KAI: At first, we were even saying, “Should we just go back to recording normally for once?” But after further consideration, we decided to stick with the same separate recording method we used in the previous album. Of course, we used samples for some of the sounds, but one of the key changes was having a different drum technician this time. That likely contributed to the final result being noticeably distinct from NINTH.

Interviewer: Was the main change in the drum parts related to tuning?

KAI: It wasn’t just the equipment we used that changed; the change in the tuner was surprisingly significant. This person is very precise in tuning the snare and toms to match the original compositions perfectly. He seems to have great chemistry with me and provides lots of valuable advice. Honestly, I learned so much—it was really eye-opening.

Interviewer: It’s incredible that even with the GazettE’s 19-year career, you were still able to gain new insights like that.

KAI: Yeah, I was genuinely surprised by how much I still don’t know (laughs).

Interviewer: Did the unique drum sound that became the foundation of this album affect the guitar sound in any way?

URUHA: Since we recorded the guitars while listening to the recorded drum tracks, there were moments where I thought, “The sound is different from the pre-production stage. So that's how it turned out.” However, that didn’t lead to significant changes in the guitar sound. The sound changes drastically during the mixing stage, so getting caught up in minor adjustments during recording could cause inconsistencies in the overall album production. That’s why my focus was consistently on the sound of the album as a whole.

Interviewer: So you had to look at things from a big-picture perspective. Speaking of that, what were the key aspects you emphasized while working on MASS? My impression after listening to it is that there are many parts of this album that seem to be made with live performances in mind, starting with the SE track COUNT-10 leading into the lead tune BLINDING HOPE and the energetic ROLLIN’ with its drum solo intro.

URUHA: Absolutely, that’s exactly right. The GazettE rarely creates songs solely for recordings. We often approach music with live performances in mind. Even during the song selection process, we judge whether a track is suitable for live settings. Fundamentally, live performance is always at the core of what we do.

KAI: During the album production, we actually simulated setlists. We experimented with mixing new songs and existing ones to see what combinations would feel cohesive for a live performance. Based on those tests, we identified gaps like, “We need this type of song,” and added tracks accordingly.

Interviewer: Now, for the Gekirock readers, could each of you recommend two personal favorites from MASS?

URUHA: For the Gekirock audience, I have to start with BLINDING HOPE. It’s the one song that encapsulates the various elements contained within MASS. The melodic progression, the sense of speed, the intricacy of each instrument—this track is a condensed representation of the current state of the GazettE. Just by listening to it, you’ll get a good grasp of the album’s overall feel. And since Gekirock readers tend to be metalcore fans, I’d also recommend MOMENT.

Interviewer: Interesting choice. Why MOMENT specifically?

URUHA: For metalcore fans, I think it’s refreshing to sometimes take a break with a ballad like MOMENT featuring acoustic guitars. I’m guessing many of you don’t often listen to this type of song, and it’s also rare for the GazettE. It had been a while since I recorded with an acoustic guitar, and I hope you’ll enjoy this tranquil atmosphere.

Interviewer: When using acoustic guitars in the GazettE’s music, what is important to you?

URUHA: Normally, acoustic guitar parts are handled by AOI. However, MOMENT is a track where the acoustic guitar takes center stage throughout, including the guitar solo. Since it was such a special case, we emphasized capturing the natural resonance of the guitar body by recording it with a microphone. That said, faithfully reproducing the recorded sound in a live setting might be challenging due to the band’s overall acoustics, so I think we'll have to go through a process of trial and error from here on out.

"The thing is, the GazettE just can’t lie" - KAI

Interviewer: Not just MOMENT, but listening to MASS, I was reminded again of how strong the GazettE’s melodies are in general.

URUHA: I like heavy music, but I this is largely because our roots aren't in metalcore. Our roots are in visual kei, so of course we think about song melodies as the axis.

Interviewer: Meanwhile, KAI, what are your personal recommendations from MASS?

KAI: While I feel like I should pick something different from URUHA’s choices (laughs), I can’t leave out BLINDING HOPE. It’s the entrance to MASS, and more than any other track, it encapsulates what the GazettE is as a band. So, I can't leave it out.

URUHA: So, what about the other two songs?

KAI: Hmm, all the songs are my favorites, so it's hard to pick out just one (laughs).

Interviewer: In terms of drum phrases, HOLD has quite a flashy structure, doesn’t it?

KAI: Ah, yes, definitely. I think readers of Gekirock would probably prefer tracks like HOLD, BARBARIAN, and FRENZY. But personally, I’d like to recommend LAST SONG.

Interviewer: Please tell us why.

KAI: This is the song that concludes the album MASS, and if we do any tours in the future, it's definitely the song we'll play last at live shows.

Interviewer: That's why it's called LAST SONG.

KAI: Yes, it’s a track that really makes the live experience come to life, and I believe it will play an important role in our future live performances.

Interviewer: LAST SONG includes lyrics like "I was dreaming in despair" and "Wandering voices, here and now, screaming like that day." For those who have been eagerly waiting for the GazettE’s live shows since last spring, this song seems like it will be an incredibly emotional moment.

KAI: Yeah, this song carries a very strong message. The thing is, the GazettE just can’t lie—we end up expressing exactly how we feel in the most straightforward way. In that sense, BLINDING HOPE is also entirely that kind of song. Since this album was created during the pandemic, it was only natural for us to want to pack it full of the emotions we experienced during that time.

Interviewer: And which other track would you choose?

KAI: 濁 (Daku). I think this type of track might not be very familiar to Gekirock readers. It’s a song that really lets you immerse yourself deeply in its world, and I believe that’s one of our strengths. And being able to enjoy such a dark atmosphere is one of the best parts of visual kei, so it might actually be something fresh for Gekirock readers.

Interviewer: With tracks like NOX, which incorporates string elements into loud rock, and THE PALE, which evokes vivid imagery as you listen, the 11 songs on this album each stand out with their unique characteristics. That said, with such a wide variety of songs, wasn't it difficult to compile them into one album?

URUHA: If anything, it was actually a bit harder during NINTH. This time, we didn’t really struggle with that.

KAI: The GazettE has been a band that’s experimented with a lot of different things over the years. We’re quite accustomed to blending a variety of elements into a single album, so it’s something we’re pretty good at by now (laughs).

Interviewer: What was the most challenging part of the production process this time around?

URUHA: This time, because of COVID, we couldn’t gather as a band very often. All the string instrument parts were recorded at home. Even beyond the recording process, we had to proceed without being able to clearly see what each member was working on or how they were approaching things.

KAI: We even did the mixing online this time, which was a first.

Interviewer: When working on the guitar ensemble, did you also communicate with AOI online rather than in person?

URUHA: We kept using LINE and Zoom throughout pre-production. Even after the recording phase was done and we moved to mixing, we still had thorough discussions to make sure the ideal form we each had in mind matched up with the actual sound, so we kept communicating until the very last minute before the deadline.

Interviewer: In such a setup, what approach did you take to find solutions to issues as they arose?

URUHA: First, I tried to draw out AOI’s vision as much as possible—what kind of sound he was aiming for. In the past, I might have jumped in with my own ideas first, like, “Here’s what I think.” But this time, I focused on understanding what AOI wanted to achieve and then considered how I could contribute. Luckily, with tools like re-amping and cabinet IRs (impulse responses), we could tweak sounds extensively. We were able to adjust both AOI’s tone and mine in real-time during our discussions to bring them closer to our shared vision. It was a somewhat tedious and roundabout method (laughs), but it gave us ample time to share and refine our ideas. I think the way we aligned as a twin-guitar duo turned out quite well in the end.

Interviewer: Wouldn’t it be fair to say that it wasn’t a roundabout process but rather a meticulous and careful approach?

URUHA: I guess you could put it that way. Also, this time it was necessary to create from a bird's-eye view, rather than from a subjective point of view.

Interviewer: The twin guitar sound doesn’t clash unnecessarily; instead, it achieves a harmonious and refined ensemble, which makes perfect sense now.

URUHA: I'm glad. If you could feel that, it's all worth it (laughs). While it wasn’t to the extent of completely suppressing myself, this time I really focused all my energy on fully embracing the intentions of the composer, each part's preferences and finding the best possible landing point.

Interviewer: After completing MASS, is there anything new you’ve realized or learned from this experience?

KAI: We were able to do the production online, and as a result, we managed to create something like this. I’ve come to understand that the ideal way to work would be for everyone to gather in person for things like mixing. Hearing the sound from the same speakers and discussing it on-site is really important. When each of us listens on different speakers, our discussions can get a bit misaligned (laughs).

URUHA: The sound changes depending on the environment, after all. Things we used to do smoothly without any issues took unexpected extra effort this time. That’s definitely something to address moving forward, but realizing it was itself a significant takeaway from this production.

Interviewer: This album has been titled MASS. I would be grateful if you could explain a little about the thoughts behind this title.

KAI: The word MASS itself carries many meanings, so it’s not like the title is meant to reflect just one of those meanings. But the aspect of "MASS" as "one cohesive entity" is definitely one of them.

Interviewer: It seems like listeners will have the opportunity to explore and find the meanings themselves while enjoying this album. Also, this happens to be the GazettE’s 10th studio album.

KAI: Yes, and we kept that in mind with the jacket design. It’s a collage that incorporates elements from all our album covers since our first full-length album, DISORDER, released in 2004. In that sense, you could interpret MASS as a square within a square*, and I think it can be interpreted in many other ways.

*The term he used is "枡目の枡" (masume no masu). It’s like saying the "unit" or "box" that is a part of the grid. So, it’s a way of emphasizing that the "masu" itself is a part of a larger, organized structure made up of smaller units.

URUHA: That said, MASS isn’t what you’d call a conceptual album. It wasn’t created around a specific theme. It’s more accurate to say it encapsulates the core of the band, distilled into one record at this moment in time. But this doesn’t represent some sort of final destination for the GazettE. If anything, it’s just a checkpoint. This is our best work at this time, but there are still many unanswered questions even after finishing the recording. Those are things we’ll have to discover as we keep moving forward. Creating this album really reminded me, after three years, "Oh yeah, this is what making an album feels like" (laughs).

Interviewer: As the GazettE celebrates 19 years this year and approaches its 20th anniversary next year, we sincerely hope for the day when we can hear the songs from MASS performed live as soon as possible.

KAI: Since we’ve released MASS, of course we want to follow it up with live performances. That’s definitely on our minds. However, we’ll need to consider the timing carefully. Regardless, we’re making preparations so that we’re ready to go whenever the opportunity arises. So, I’d like to say it clearly here: We will do live shows!

URUHA: The issue of COVID-19 is a global one, so for now, saying “We want to do live shows” is really just an expression of our hopes. But if people listen to MASS and feel, “I want to go to their concert!” then we believe it’s our job to create the conditions to respond to that feeling as much as possible moving forward.

Interviewer: How are you feeling about the upcoming 20th anniversary next spring?

URUHA: We had a lot of plans in place for the 20th anniversary, but some of them have had to be changed under the current circumstances. Still, when I think about it, I feel like reaching 20 years is pretty incredible. I'm amazed that we've lasted this long (laughs).

KAI: Hahaha (laughs).

URUHA: But as the years go by, I’ve come to feel more and more that it’s because of the five of us that we’ve been able to keep going. Our members are truly resilient, and their love for the band runs deep. Without that, we wouldn’t have made it through all the rough seas we’ve faced over the years. I felt that once again when we finished MASS.

KAI: That’s why, even beyond the 20th anniversary, all we want to do is keep expressing what we want to convey through our music. That’s everything for the GazettE.

[yzafre]

Rise Magic Watch - So Many

This covers The Ancient Ninja Art of Hide and Seek, The Mutant Menace, One Mans Junk, Snow Day, Cloak and Swaggart, and Jupiter Jim Ahoy. There wasn't a ton of (new) magic in each individual episode, so we're going through them in one long streak.

The Ancient Ninja Art of Hide and Seek

I love this episode. Like Splinter is undeniably a shit teacher, and it definitely depicts the boys as…. dumber than I think they are, for the joke, but the episode is HILARIOUS. And they figure it out in the end.

Very little magic though, so here's come misc notes

Possibly a joke, but they spend 3 days in the hotel before splinter comes after them.

Also I grabbed these fun screenshots, maybe new backgrounds?

The Mutant Menace

This... exists. Somewhere.

....terrifying.

The start of Mikey throwing around things way too big for him?

One Man's Junk

There's a notice board up near Hueso's pizza labyrinth now. Things we can see:

The unicorns do seem to be pets of some kind.

Recruitment drive for the Foot

Also, the Foot seem to know about the Evil Tea Kettle

Leo is wanted - weather by the police or by a private citizen, unknown. 100% related to the Portal Jacked incident, though.

The Demolition Derby is still going strong.

The mutants seem to be integrating into hidden city life - Hypno is advertising his magic skills, Repo's got a flyer, Warren has a (defaced) advertisement.

The boy's favorite pizza place advertises at a yokai place? Also seems weird for Heuso to let his competition advertise at his place....

Also a fun little Leo being creative moment. He's really starting to hit his stride!

Snow Day

So. Ghost Bear. Let's talk about it.

Ghost bear is weird, and breaks about half the rules.

I can accept his powers - again, the magic system in this show is very conceptual. Hypno's whole life was being a magician, so now he can do it for real. Meat Sweat's life was about his show, and his mantra of "release the flavor", his absorption abilities just takes that to creepy extremes. Ect.

Ghost Bear's life was about... well, being Ghost Bear. That's what his identity is tied up in. So him gaining actual ghost power makes sense based on his sense of self.

By why is he a bear???

For most mutants we've seen, while the abilities are more conceptual, the form follows a science logic. With the mutants where we're aware of their transformation:

Hypno, form comes from his hippo assistant

Meat Sweats, was smacking someone with a pork chop

Garner dude from a couple episodes back, was holding the smelly plant

Repo's cat, was licking Repo

The point being, it's been established/implied that your form comes from your last animal/DNA contact (which implies funny things about Warren's & Repo's last moments as a human). So why is he a bear.

The only answer I can come up with is that the ruff he wears is made out of actual bear fur.

There you go, that not-actually-a-mystery is now solved. You're welcome.

((later edit: someone else has actually already posted about this, but this post was already in my queue, so))

Also we heard Mikey's weapon laugh again.

Is it alive or isn't it???

Cloak and Swaggart

The brooch was a gift from Sunita's Grand-Googly. Doesn't say much on its own, but its another point in my "how common are cloaking brooches" file along with, say, Glem's existence, and that old lady they followed into Run of the Mill for the First time.

On the topic of cloaking brooches.

How do they work, exactly? I mean, not my question from before about like, the physicality of it all and where does the mass and magic go.

I mean how does it decide how you should look? Because it makes Meat Sweats look exactly as he did before. do you have any control over it? If so, how much?

It can't be DNA based, I don't think, because that seems like it would be... difficult, with Sunita. Is it based on... self-conception? Maybe? That would fit well with how a lot of the magic in the show seems to work, see above.

Jupiter Jim Ahoy

Oh dang, no wonder they can pass as cosplayers if this exists.

So we're putting a pin in this screenshot. You know, for later.

Off-topic aside: The boys are really fast learners? Like, not just Ninja Hide and Seek, but even here, Donnie picks up a series of precision strikes after briefly reading an insert. It's like the powers at be looked at their raw potential and went "oh, gotta nerf that" and made them dumbasses to compensate.

Woo, end of the season is coming up fast! We'll see if I do the last two episodes together, or give them their own posts.

[peonierose]

Round Robin: Chapter 5 - Don’t call me Angel

Book: OH & TRR crossover

Characters mentioned: Luna Auclair (F!OC - OH), Bryce Lahela (M!MC - OH), Tobias Carrick (M!MC - OH, Maxwell Beaumont (M!MC - TRR) and Bertrand Beaumont (M!MC - TRR)

Words in total: 3,373k

A/N: Masterlist for Round Robin @choicesprompts I’m participating for Round Robin for the 1st time and I really hope I could do the characters justice 🥰

Side note: Thank you so much for helping me with this story and helping me get inspired @aallotarenunelma & @annieruok94 🩷🩷🩷🩷

A few weeks ago…

Luna

The phone rang somewhere in the house while I was in the middle of an art project.

A few seconds later I heard footsteps and when I turned around I saw Bryce appear in the doorway, handing me my phone.

”Who is it?“ I asked and turned to my canvas again.

”No idea some fancy talking guy said he wanted to talk to you.“

”Is he sure he got the right person?“ ”Beats me.“

I furrowed my brow and pushed my dark blonde hair out of my face and accidentally got some teal paint in my hair. Good thing it’ll wash out.

”Hello?“ I wiped my paint covered fingers on a cloth I kept handy when I painted.

”Am I speaking to Ms. Luna Auclair?“ A deep voice with a slight accent can be heard from the other end.

”Yes. And who is this?“ I put the phone on speaker and got up slowly as I took my brushes to the sink to wash them.

”My name is Bertrand Beaumont from House Beaumont in Cordonia. I’m sure you’ve heard of me.“

”Hmm. Sorry doesn’t ring a bell.“ I say not able to resist teasing him. Bryce snickered next to me.

”You’re so mean.“ He mouthed, and I kissed his stubbled cheek, making him smile.

I turned back to the conversation, putting Bertrand out of his misery. Poor guy must’ve thought the worst of me.

”I’m just kidding Mr. Beaumont I know who you are. So what can I do for you?“ I turned off the faucet and put my paint brushes upside down so they could dry.

”I could use your help.“ He sounded hesitant, which made me instantly curious.

”Help with what?“

”We have our PR firm that we founded, and we’re trying to give some people a better public image.“ I took my phone into my hand.

”What does that have to do with me? I’m not a PR person. I have a bachelor's degree in fine arts, and I’m currently teaching art at the University of Hawaii.“

I took a look at my half-finished painting sitting on the easel, and decided to let the painting dry for now. I’ll keep working on it later.

When I closed the door Bryce and I walked towards the backyard, where we sat down in our beach chairs, while Bertrand’s voice kept coming out of the speaker.

”I’m very well aware. But I know you’re someone who’s skilled as an artist. And I know you think outside the box, and that’s exactly what we need.“

”I will need more information than that if you want my help.“ I could hear some commotion before another voice replaced Bertrand's.

”Luna right? Hi I’m Maxwell, Bertrand’s brother. Look, my brother's social skills suck sometimes. I have the cliff notes version if you want it?“

”Um…sure fire away.“

”Alright. A few weeks ago there was a bit of an…let’s call it an incident. Tobias Carrick was caught making out with the daughter of one of the hospital directors of Mass Kenmore. Someone apparently posted it online. Of course, it’s gone viral. The damage is done and he could get fired. Because apparently it’s unethical.“

”Poor Tobias. He’s a good friend of me and my fiancé Bryce so he has our sympathies especially since this a massive violation of their privacy to put the video online. I’m really sorry he’s going through that.“

I looked at Bryce who was as surprised as me to hear about this.

”Both Bertrand and I feel terrible, because Tobias seems like such a great guy and then for someone to swoop in and destroy his image like that. This is actually where you come into play. Let’s just say we’ve tried other people to fix his image, but it didn’t work.“

”Like I told your brother, I’m not a PR person. I have zero experience.“

”That’s not what we’re looking for. I’m talking about your other accolades. You’re not only one of the youngest people to finish your bachelor degree, but one where all your professors had only glowing compliments for you. You also published your own book, called Kala Kala - Overcoming anxiety with the help of art. Very nice read. I loved it, it’s also super colorful by the way. Not only do you teach art at the senior center, you’re an active member at arts on the fence, a non-profit organization in Honolulu, Hawaii. You love malasdas and are allergic to ginger. Should I continue? I’ve got more.“

”I…no…that’s fine. But how did you find out that much about me? Not everything is available online.“ I was wondering how the hell they got my phone number, and all the things in my bio Maxwell just mentioned. Why would they even be interested in seeking out my help?

”Let’s say a mutual, redhead found out about it. She bought some of your art, and she said you could be a good fit. I think the phrase »ovaries of steel« was mentioned.“

I gasped in awe.

”You don’t mean Olivia Nevrakis do you? Because then I’m so in. I’d love to meet her. And of course help out in any way I can.“

I heard a whoop and a sigh.

”Is that a yes?“ Maxwell asked unsure.

”Hold on a sec.“ I muted the conversation.

”What do you think B?“ I asked Bryce and I could see his beautiful face, that I could sketch every single day and not get tired of looking at.

”I mean I’m sorry Tobias is going through this. He’s our friend, but are you sure you’re up for it?“ His brown eyes were filled with worry as he gently caressed my stomach.

”I’ll be fine. Women have gotten pregnant before and have worked until they’ve given birth.“ I said with more conviction than I felt right now.

”I know you’re trying to be strong but okay. If you’re really sure, then I’m okay with it, but the smallest hitch, and we’re going back home. And don’t think of going alone. I don’t care who they are. You’re my fiancé and the mother of my kids. So they better believe I’ll be going with you.“

”I love your protective mode.“

”Out of all the things I’ve said, that’s what you focused on?“

I grinned and then I unmuted the conversation.

”Maxwell? I’m in.“

”Thanks Luna. I promise you won’t regret it.“

”I better don’t. Otherwise, you’ll hear me yell at you.“

Maxwell chuckled.

”You got it. There’ll be a private jet to pick you up. I’ll send you the arrival date. Can’t wait to meet you. From the pictures I’ve seen, you're really beautiful.“

”Careful there Casanova.“ Bryce chimed in, and I grinned as I pushed my hand through his soft brown hair, making him relax.

”No worries, I know she’s taken. We’ll see you soon in Cordonia, bye.“

Before I could say anything else the phone call ended. Bryce and I just stared at the phone and then laughed at how surreal the situation was.

Who would’ve thought I’d meet members of House Beaumont?

Though it looked as if a new adventure was coming our way.

5 days later

So here I was on day five not making any kind of improvement whatsoever.

I’ve tried talking to Tobias, but nothing worked to get through to him.

He acted as if nothing was wrong and there’s no part where he could lose his job. He’s been painted as the bad guy but doesn’t seem to care.

I got up this morning, let Bryce sleep in a little, as I went down to the pool to figure out a new strategy for how to fix this mess.

That’s when I saw Tobias flirting with a woman by the pool.

You’ve got to be kidding me. I’m trying to repair his image, and he’s out here flirting? Oh, hell no!

”Having fun?“ I asked when I stood next to him. Tobias turned his light green eyes to me, focusing on me rather than the woman he was just talking to a minute ago.

As if he wasn’t already good-looking enough, the smile he threw my way made his face even more beautiful.

”Good morning to you too, gorgeous.“

”Sorry buddy but that charm is wasted on me. I’m engaged and I’m expecting.“

”Does that mean I can’t flirt with you?“ Tobias smirked.

”You can. But it won’t have any effect.“ I said and took a towel from the rack and threw it at him.

”Get dressed.“ I said, and he took the towel, but didn't move. He threw an apologetic smile at the woman who was sitting next to him. She slipped him a small piece of paper and left. He watched her walk away and nodded his head in appreciation.

I cleared my throat, and he turned his gaze on me.

”Let me guess you have another glorious idea how to restore my image?“

”You can call it that. You have 10 minutes to get dressed and be back.“

”Let’s make it 15 alright?“ Tobias laughed.

”Now it’s 9 minutes.“

”Does that tone ever work on Bryce?“

”I’m not going to repeat myself.“

”Now you sound like a school teacher.“ He replied but got up. That’s progress I guess.

”Look, I was assigned to give you some sort of glowing makeover for your reputation. If you don’t want it? Fine. I have better things to do.“

Tobias stared back at me, his charm gone.

”Like what? Be all sunshiny? No offense, but don’t you ever have a bad day or get angry? In all the time you’ve been here you’re always smiling and never losing your cool. You’re more like a robot.“

His comment hit me more than I thought it would, so I got up in his face. Which is hard since he’s taller than me, but I made it work.

”Don’t mistake my bubbly personality for being just that. There’s a lot more to my character and my personality than being happy and positive. You don’t know me that well if your words are any indication.“

His eyes widened for a fraction.

”My bad.“

”And that was lesson number 12.“

Tobias rolled his eyes.

”What I don’t get is why they even assigned you to me? We’re polar opposites.“

”You know what’s interesting? In our whole convos, you’ve avoided talking about this whole incident that led up to this moment right now. You keep acting as if you don’t care, and it’s no concern of yours. But you avoid talking about the core problem.“

Tobias crossed his arm.

”Please enlighten me.“

”You’re not a bad guy. But you’d rather have people believe you’re a dick then let them think you have a heart. That’s interesting.“

”Are you done psychoanalyzing me?“ His voice sounded more and more irritated.

”If you think that we’re done? Then you don’t know me at all. We’re just getting started. Get dressed. And don’t be late. If you’re not down in 5 minutes I’m leaving. So dealers choice.“

”Fine, I'll go get dressed. Doesn’t mean this conversation is over.“

”Now it’s 8 minutes.“ I said and watched him quicken his steps while I sat down and enjoyed the nice view of the ocean.

10 minutes later…

”What is this place?“ He asked without really seeming to pay attention.

”It’s called a room. With walls and windows. And sometimes there’s even a door.“

He snickered.

”I know what a room is. I meant what are we doing in this room?“ He looked at all the cans of paint I had people assemble for this exercise.

”That’s the fun part. Team building exercise. It’s also pregnancy safe, which is a plus.“ I grinned, but he just looked at me and didn't reply.

”The point of this exercise is to let go of past hurts. Look at it this way, you can just let all your anger out. I like to call it angry painting.“

I take a can of paint, open it and see the color coral crush. I took it and threw some at the wall.

Tobias regarded me and I handed him another can, he took it but stared at it as if it’s been touched by Medusa herself.

”Do you even know how to get angry?“ He looked at me skeptically as he kept holding the paint can in his hands.

”Excuse me?“

He opened the can of paint and a soft canary yellow joined the coral crush tone on the wall.

”Look, all you’ve said is how I have a heart and I don’t let others see it. But you don’t even know me. How do you expect me to trust you?“

”Is this finally the heart-to-heart you’re giving me? One that the others failed to get?“

”Maybe it wasn’t the best idea to partner up.“ He set the can down and was about to walk away.

”Giving up so soon? That’s a shame.“

”What?“ He stopped and slowly turned my way.

”I know you’re the type of guy who likes to do things rather than sit around and talk.“

”You’ve been paying attention? I’m shocked. Everybody knows I’m competitive, that's not a secret.“

”Of course I’ve been paying attention. You know I have bad days and angry moments too. I’m not just some blonde bimbo, who can’t count to three. I notice a lot more than people think.“

”Such as?“ He raised his eyebrows daringly as he leaned against the door frame.

”When you get nervous you bite your lip and clench your left fist. Which would lead me to believe you are left-handed.“

I kept going.

”Whenever I ask you a personal question or try to tackle the issue, you laugh it off, meaning you’re not ready to talk to me or improve your image. You think it’s fine and it doesn't need any polishing. If people don’t like you or think you’re a dick that’s on them.“

Tobias doesn’t say anything.

”I’d wager you’re someone who likes to do things his way or the highway. You don’t play well with others because you like to be in control. It’s hard for you to give anyone even an ounce of your trust because you believe trust is earned. You said it yourself I don’t know much about you, so why should you trust me? So did I get any of that right?“

Tobias didn’t say anything. He didn’t even move a muscle.

”Your silence indicates I got something right.“

”Even if you did get it right, it doesn’t mean I need your help.“

”So what you’d let your image get destroyed and let others decide on the narrative rather than trying to fix it? That doesn’t sound like the Tobias I got to know.“

”I can’t control what people think.“

”Maybe not. But you can let them see that there’s more to you. Do you know what I see right now?“

”What?“

”Someone who’s been hurt in the past, and now you’re hurt again. But you’re trying so hard to bury those feelings that you’re drowning in them.“

”Sounds like a therapy session.“ He mumbled.

”Art is therapy. Did you know I basically got bullied out of the art gallery I worked at in Boston?“

He shook his head. By the look in his eyes I could tell I got his attention.

”I had no idea, but I’m sorry to hear that. Why did you get fired?“

”I quit. I’ve been struggling with anxiety for years. And they’ve seen me as someone they can demean and push around. My voice was snuffed out. I’ve always seen art as freedom, choosing to make art work for you. Art has helped me find an outlet, find my voice. Let me be creative and put paint on a canvas when I can’t name my own feelings.“

He rubbed his neck as if uncomfortable by my word vomit.

”I had no idea. And I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be a dick. I just…“

”You needed to vent so you let it out on me. I get it. We all lash out when we’re angry. Usually at the people we’re close to.“

”But you seem so calm and composed. You and Bryce never even fight. You’re so perfect.“

I threw my head back and let out a laugh. Making it echo from the walls.

I turned back to Tobias who was looking at me as if I grew another head.

”Do you really believe that? Of course Bryce and I fight. We have disagreements all the time. But we’ve learned how to handle them. Even if we don’t speak to each other for days, it doesn't mean we hate each other. But it means hey I need space I’ll talk when I’ve cooled off. We found our rhythm. We love and understand each other.“

He sighed and sat down, leaning on the wall that was just covered with paint, he winced when he realized it, but he didn’t sit down somewhere else.

”What a mess I’ve created, but maybe you’re right.“

”I must have a fever, or did you just say I’m right?“ I grinned and he smiled back.

”No you heard me correctly. You’re right. I’m scared to end up alone. So that’s why I pushed Chloe away. The woman from the video. We’ve gotten pretty close, and I don't know I panicked. I mean whoever took the video had no right to do that, but I guess people judged me and said how I’m sleeping with her because I’d like to get to the top. But that’s not true. I like the job I have. I have no desire to work in an office. I love working with patients. Hearing them tell me what’s wrong and finding a way to make things better for them.“

”Could it be that you’re scared you won’t measure up? Wanting to prove others wrong? You’d rather be the one who ends a relationship rather than the one who gets his heart broken?“

”Yes to all of the above.“ He nodded.

”Alright. That’s something we can work on.“ I said with renewed energy.

”How? We can’t just fix this mess in a matter of days.“

I smiled softly at him.

”No. But we can slowly build towards improving. You know there is a Hawaiian proverb my grandma always uses: A’ Ohe Pu’u Ki’eki’e Ke Ho’a’o ‘Ia e Pi’i.“

”Uhh…meaning?“ He asked.

”No cliff is so tall it cannot be climbed.“

”I kinda like that phrase.“ He said thoughtfully.

”Yeah it’s beautiful. You know what else? You’re not broken. It just means you haven’t figured out the right formula. I don’t want to turn you into someone you’re not. I just want you to realize that if you keep pushing people away who’d like to be in your life you’ll end up all alone. And that’s not what I want for you. You’re smart, funny and good-looking. Don’t let it go to waste.“

Tobias shook his head as grinned at me.

”You know? Now I understand why Bryce fell for you.“

I grinned at him.

”I told you so. There’s more to me than you might think.“

”I can see that. Also, please tell me I’m not the only one you boss around. At least tell me you do that to Bryce too.“

”Oh trust me I do.“ I laughed again because it felt as if we reached a good point. And I’m glad I could get him to open up.

I can see a big grin forming on Tobias face and I already knew there’s something snarky coming.

”Also I did get something right on the first try.“ He grinned.

”Let me guess how to do sex right.“ I sighed.

”No. It was actually how to pick friends. Maybe after we solve this mess I can try and restore some of my friendships.“

”You got this Carrick.“ I slapped his arm.

”Now you sound like Lahela.“

I winked at him.

”Now what?“ He asked after getting up.

”Now we slowly improve your image. With me by your side things can only get better.“ He laughed out loud and we continued to throw paint at the wall. We might’ve not solved everything, but we’re getting there.

[ceilingfan5]

spies + reality tv au :0

“I hate this,” Kravitz says sweetly. 

“You absolute baby.” Sloane adjusts his collar, perfectly hiding both the mic and his lifeline gadgets. Some of them. A lot of his favorites had to stay back at base for this one. Does he still have at least five knives on his person? Obviously. Kravitz is a lot of things, but never unprepared.

“When I signed up for treason et al I did not see this under the terms and conditions, S. Espionage-”

“Is what you make of it. And you know what? I could have you at a furry convention, you know that? Pull up your fucking fursona, coward, too late, you’re a lizard now! Have fun trying to go to the bathroom!”

“I would not be a lizard,” Kravitz says, scandalized. “I-”

“Argue with me later, hot shot.” Sloane artfully musses his hair. “You’ve got a boy to woo.” 

“Listen.”

“Mhm.”

“Listen!” Kravitz paces a little, toying with one of his buttons. “Wooing I can do. Woo, subdue, coup, follow through-”

“You’re rhyming, K. And pacing. And fiddling.”

“I always fiddle,” Kravitz lies. Unless spending all his focus on standing stock still sort of counts. “What I mean is, I can seduce some idiot, no problem. But my whole career has been staying out of sight. My cover is blown when they broadcast this. What, am I going to get plastic surgery? I have a cute nose, S!”

She snickers. 

“You’ll be fine,” she promises. “Base has a plan. Trust the system, just do your job.” 

Kravitz grumbles, but they both know he’s going to do his damnedest. 

Once he’s ready, he submits himself to the whims of the stage manager, and is shoved out into the beautifully, soullessly decorated set, along with all of the other too-attractive guys, who for the most part, are just as hollow as the sticks in vases and mass-produced hotel art on the walls. They’re all milling about, talking about absolutely nothing and trying to figure out where all the cameras are. One guy legitimately just keeps flexing. 

Kravitz sighs. 

“What a boner,” startles him from out of nowhere, and Kravitz turns (calmly, so cool and calm and collected and spy-like and handsome) to see a bizarrely dressed contestant that doesn’t exactly match the other douchebags gathered here. Kravitz tries to pretend he totally noticed the guy sneaking up on him (how???) and keeps watching the obnoxious dude take his shirt off. Even though he wants to see this gorgeous guy with the dark roots showing and the cardigan with what has to be at least fifteen pockets over booty shorts. He needs to know what those shorts say on the ass.

It’s vital to his mission.

“Absolutely,” he laughs. “I can’t say I’ll be trying to woo that one.”

“What, you don’t want to lick those abs?” They watch as a stage manager tries to chase the guy and cow him into being a little less shirtless. “Name’s Greg, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you, Greg,” gotta be a fake name. “You can call me Drake,” Kravitz adds. 

‘Greg’ looks at him and smiles a knowing smile. Kravitz smiles right back, offering his hand to shake, and man, those eyes are dazzling. Hard, knowing, but dazzling. Kravitz kisses his hand, just to make a real stir, and notices that his fingers smell like gunpowder. 

Kravitz knew there was going to be someone from the other side here. Shame he’s so fucking handsome. 

“May the best man win,” Kravitz says, with a charming wink. His heart is pounding. Do they have the same target? Is this whole thing a setup? Is he going to die?

“Oh,” ‘Greg’ laughs. “I plan to.”

[spookymystery67]

I Wish I Could Walk In Heels

AN: Oooh, so close to Ada! Not this chapter though. Sorry lol. I, once again, did not re-read fully. I glanced at it. So mistakes may be possible. Have fun folks!

TW: Language, zombies, gore, guns, Brian Irons (fucking hate that guy), ect. The usual Resident Evil stuff. Enjoy.

Chapter 6:

-September 29, 1998-

By the time you had back tracked and made it through the gate it was past midnight. Early morning 12 am on September 29th. Here's to hoping this day will be better. You don't know how much more shit you could take.

First goal, get into the police station. Easier said than done considering all the entrances were blocked. Either by items or by the undead.

Oh wait, an open window. Bingo. Only thing is you had to take out a few zombies trying to make their way through. You managed to do so fairly easily. At this point, you're a zombie killing pro. You know exactly what part of the head to hit to make it explode in one shot. The morbid part of you is weirdly satisfied when that happens. But it's nice not to waste 5 shots on one zombie. My, how far you've come.

You shimmied the window open and climbed through, carefully and quietly shutting it behind you. You don't know what could be in here.

You turned and your stomach dropped at the sight before you. This isn't good. Looks like the police station was overrun. How do you know this? Well, the first thing you saw when you turned around was blood. Blood and dead bodies. At least, you hoped they were dead. You didn't want to use up more ammo than necessary.

Okay, next mission, find Ben. Again, easier said than done. You've never been to the former art museum, now turned into a police station. You have no idea where you are currently. Just that it was dark and bloody and there were bodies.

You see a door down the hall to the left and one down the hall in front of you. You tried to think. You entered from the far left of the building, the first window. So if you walk forward, you might reach the main hall and find survivors. Survivors who can hopefully help you find Ben and you can all leave this city, living happily ever after knowing Umbrella will get shut down after this incident.

I mean, there is no way they can sweet talk their way out of it, right? They caused an outbreak and a mass genocide of over 100,000 people. Oh, and let's not forget the animals. No creature was left unscathed. They fucked up. They fucked up big time.

Fuckers.

You decided to just carefully walk to the forward door and see where you end up. You opened the door and saw what you believed to be the reception room. Unfortunately, there were more bodies. You see another door and decided to try it out and see where it leads.

You opened the door into a big, grand and fancy room with marble statues. Okay, this is promising. You saw the big double doors and decided that this was the main entrance. 

Now you just need to find survivors.

"Ma'am? Are you alright? You're not bitten are you?" A man's voice asked, startling you.

You jumped and gasped, hand on your chest to calm your heart. "Holy- no. No. This isn't my blood." You awkwardly gestured to yourself, as you turned to face the man. A police officer, judging by the uniform. Funny

If it wasn't for the circumstances you're sure you would have been arrested immediately waltzing in a police station in blood covered clothes.

"Ah. Zombies?" He asked.

"And the like. Lots of stuff happening out there." You said awkwardly. He nodded.

"And in here. Barely anyone is left anymore. I have a man searching for a way out for those of us who remain. But the longer we stay here the more our numbers dwindle." He said.

You nodded in understanding. "Oh, I'm Y/n by the way."

"I'm Marvin Branagh. Nice to meet you. Where'd you come from?" He asked.

"Oh, I climbed through a window. Had to kill some zombies in the process. Sorry for, you know, breaking and entering."

"You killed some of those things trying to get in. I'm not mad." He laughed. You studied the man closely.

Marvin had a short, buzzed haircut and a goatee on his dark skinned face. Looking in his eyes, you could tell that he was just as tired as you were. If not more. The weight of everything has taken a toll on him.

"I'm actually looking for someone. A friend of mine was arrested just before this all started. You think you could help me find him?" I asked.

"Hmm, well the prisoners were all released from what I was told." Your heart sinks, maybe Ben wasn't here.

"Who told you that? Irons?" You asked.

He nodded. "I haven't been to the cells since this all started, though, so I may be wrong. There are quite a few obstacles to get there. The undead and locked doors alike. You'd have to work to get there." He wished he could be more helpful, but this station is expansive and crawling with zombies and Lickers. He couldn't afford to go running around when he still had a few survivors to take care of.

"You can't help me?" You questioned.

He shook his head. "I have a few survivors left to look after. I can give you a map, but otherwise, you're on your own on this one. I'm sorry." 

You shook your head. "No worries. I understand. Focus on getting your people out of the city. I'll go see if my friend is still around and then join you." 

"Alright. Here's that map I promised you. First, second and third floor. Don't lose it. I don't have another one to give you." He warned.

"Thank you. I appreciate it." You tell him, before studying the map. Looks like the only way to get to the holding cells is through the parking garage. The only way you see to get there is through an elevator in Irons office.

"Any chance you can point me another direction that leads to the parking garage?" You asked Marvin.

"The only other way is blocked. So unfortunately going through his office is the only way to go. Be careful though, people have been "mysteriously" dying when he's present, and I just know he has something to do with it." He told you. 

"What do you mean?" You question.

"Well, he started off by giving us strange orders. Like locking all the doors and scattering our weapons throughout the station. Then he went one step further and separated the survivors into separate groups. Haven't seen any of them since." He told you.

Smart man. Finally catching on to how shifty his Chief of Police actually is. I guess the outbreak is making Irons show his true colors.

"I assume I need a key." You said.

"Yes, the diamond key. There are at least two hidden around the station. Where exactly, I'm not sure. I wish I could be of more help." He said.

"It's fine. I'll figure it out. I'll break the damn door if I have to. Thank you." 

He nodded. "Meet back here when you're done. I should be here when you get back."

You smiled and nodded. Turning on your feet, you made your way up the stairs to the second floor to explore and see if you could find anything useful. Like a key or lock pick. Or a grenade. It's a fucking wooden door. It can break. 

One way or another, you're getting through that room.

-September 29, 1998-

You explored about every damn inch of the second floor you could access and didn't find a damn diamond key. You found more ammo for your guns though. And grenades and more guns, but you just took one grenade and left the rest for someone else who may need them more. It's not like you're a weapons expert here.

You might just blow up the door. You're just worried about attracting what survivors had deemed "Lickers" in the process. Lickers. Not a name you would have chosen, but fitting I suppose. 

As you were about to head to Irons office, you heard gunshots from the main entrance area.

You quickly ran out the door and down the stairs, coming across Marvin. He was clutching his side in pain.

"Hey! Hey, what happened? Are you hurt?" You asked him as you ran up to check on him.

"Stay away from me!" He exclaimed, panicked. He pushed you away and ran through a door. Where was he going?

The door to the front entrance opens and you turn to see who it was, hand on your gun ready to shoot, only pausing when you recognize who it was.

"Tyrell?" You asked.

"Y/n? What are you doing here?" 

"I could ask you the same thing."

"A mission. You?"

"Same here. Sort of. Need help with anything?" You offered as he walked over to the computers on the desk meant to be for the receptionists.

As Tyrell was about to respond, the door opened again and you saw another familiar face.

"Where'd that cop go?"

"Don't know, don't care. We got a job to do. If our intells still worth a damn, then Bards' in the S.T.A.R.S office. Let's find him and take him into custody." Tyrell said.

"Custody? I thought this was a rescue." Carlos said, before pausing when he finally noticed you. "Y/n?"

"Hey. Small world, huh? Don't worry, I'll be out of your hair in a moment. Just a heads up though, if you hear a loud boom coming from upstairs, that's me with a grenade." You tell them.

"Do I wanna know?" He asked.

"Eh, it's just that nearly every damn door has been locked. I've been unlocking everything upstairs and trying to find one key to a certain room. Haven't had any luck though."

"What key? Maybe I can keep an eye out." Carlos offered.

"Not if I blow it up first. But if you find a diamond key lying around, then let me know." 

"Alright, will do. Good to see you, Y/n."

"You too. Later boys. Stay safe. Oh, and watch out for Lickers. They're nasty little fuckers."

"What?"

"Lickers. Mutated monsters with no skin and long tongues that can pierce skin. Not fun. Anyways, good luck." You tell them as you walk back upstairs to make your way back to the office. You listened to their conversation as you went.

"Carlos, take a look at this. I've located the S.T.A.R.S office. Remember, Bard had access to Umbrella's darkest secrets. He knows we'll try to keep him under our thumb." Tyrell said.

"So this "search and rescue mission" is really more like "find and detain". Right. Good to know." You hear Carlos's voice fade the further you went.

Is Nathaniel Bard here? You very much doubt it since Marvin hadn't mentioned any survivors in the S.T.A.R.S office. And what do they plan to do when they find him?

You shook your head. You have no time for more side quests. You have to find Ben.

You made your way to his office and as you turned the corner, the door slammed open and Irons walked out. Quickly turning around, you opened a closet door, sliding in, shutting it, and listening with bated breath as he stomped away from his office and down the hall where you had just been standing moments ago.

You waited until you were sure the coast was clear before carefully opening the door and peaking out into the hall. No sign of Irons. You walked out of the closet and made your way back to the office door. You checked to see if it was unlocked. Nope. 

Just as you were about to break the damn door down, it slammed open and you lightly screeched as a body collided with your own.

"Get off me!" A voice yelled. A familiar voice.

Backing up and looking at the owner of the voice, your eyes widened. "Katherine?" You questioned in disbelief.

Katherine looked up with tears in her eyes when she recognized you. "Y/n!" She quickly pulled you in close and held you tightly.

You lightly shushed her and pushed her into the room, shutting the now unlocked door behind you. "What are you doing here? I thought you would have been long gone by now. With your father." 

"He left me." Katherine said, anger in her tone. "He left me in the care of Irons and got out of the city as fast as he could as soon as things started to go down. You were right about him. And about Irons. We need to go. This is the first time he's let me out of his sight." She began crying slightly, the stress from everything getting to her.

You broke the hug and looked over her appearance. She was wearing a pretty white dress and her hair was half pinned back. She didn't look outwardly harmed. You would have killed Irons if she had.

"Did he do anything to you?" You asked as you dragged her outside to the balcony leading to the elevator to the garage.

"No, but I watched him kill all those people. I know I'm next. You were right, Y/n. He's a horrible person. And we need to leave before he gets back." She grabbed at your arms, desperate that you understand.

"Okay, we will. We just need to make a pit stop first." You said as you made it to the elevator. You pressed the button, summoning the elevator.

"The parking garage? Why?" She asked.

"Because that also happens to be the only way to get to the cell block."

"For, Ben? Irons said he killed him. He's gone, Y/n." She said sadly.

The elevator opened up and you dragged her in, quickly pressing the button once you both cleared the doorway.

You shookyour head. "I refuse to believe that. We at least have to check before we go."  The elevator started descending and you grabbed your shotgun and checked that it was fullyloaded. Lord knows what's down there.

"Do we have any chance of escaping the city?" She asked you. 

"Dwindles with each passing day. You remember how to shoot a gun?" You asked her, remembering how she briefly took a class on the subject.

"Yeah. Of course." She nodded. 

"Great. Here." You hand her the handgun and a pack of ammo. "Make sure it's fully loaded. I have plenty more ammo in my bag, you just have to ask and I'll hand you more. Seeing as you don't have pockets." 

"Well, excuse me. I wasn't exactly dressing for a zombie apocalypse." She deadpanned. You snorted.

"Nope. Just for your boyfriend. You look good, by the way. Ben will be happy to see you." 

"Don't get my hopes up." She said as the elevator door finally opened up to a room.

You walked out of the elevator and toward the door leading out to the garage. Before you opened it, you turned to Katherine.

"You ready?" You ask, shotgun in hand.

She cocked her gun and nodded. "Ready." 

You both carefully walked out the door, keeping your eyes peeled for any zombies. You hear aggressive barking in the distance. Turned police dogs, you assumed. It sounded like they were still in the cages, so you should be alright.

Once you determined the coast was clear, you grabbed your map to check you were in the right place.

"Alright. This way. Stay close." You told Katherine, shoving the map back into your pocket. She nodded and you made your way through the cars parked haphazardly to the door you needed to get to.

"Please be unlocked." You mumbled as your fingers wrapped around the handle and turned it. You grinned when it opened. "Nice."

Walking into the cell block, you both stay close to avoid the zombies reaching out through the cells and into the hallway in an attempt to grab you. You almost gave up, only seeing a bunch of undead, when you came across a cell in the corner with a man sitting on his bed, smoking his cigarette. 

"Ben!" Katherine beat you to it, running towards the cell and reaching for him.

"Katherine!" He grinned in relief, running up to hold her through the bars. "I thought you were dead." He said.

"I thought you were dead too!" She nearly wanted to sob at the thought. She almost left him thinking that Irons was telling the truth. 

You watched the heartfelt reunion with a smile, happy for your friends. Though it dropped into a face of mock disgust when they started to kiss each other through the bars.

"Ew. Yeah, I'm here too. Still." You said, gaining their attention.

"Hey, Y/n. What the hell took you so long?" Ben joked.

"Oh you know, I just got a little distracted from the hordes of zombies and others running through the city. My bad. Next time I'll try to be more punctual." You sassed back. Katherine snorted at your interaction, always an amusing scene for her.

"You better. Or I'll have to revoke your pay. Unless… you happen to have a key or something to get me out of here?" He asked.

"Ah, I didn't really think that far ahead. Let's see what we have to work with here." You turned away from the couple to study the lock as they continued to enjoy each other's company. Looked like an electric mechanism of some kind. And it's missing three chips.

You sighed and popped the gum in your mouth. Hmm, theoretically, you just need something metallic to act as a conductor for the electricity. To get it from point A to point B. At least, you think that's how it works. You're no scientist.

Wait, aluminum is metallic. Your gum wrappers are metallic. That's it! You grabbed your bag off your shoulders and began to look through it for your gum.

You froze when you heard a gun cock and felt something hard against the middle of your back.

You turned your head slightly to see Katherine and Ben looking your way with wide eyes. You sighed, closing your eyes in frustration. "Is that a gun in your hand, Chief Irons, or are you just happy to see me." You weakly joked.

"Can't it be both? Drop the guns, the bag, and put your hands up." Irons spat, pressing the gun deeper into your back, making you hiss from your bruises being pressed onto.

You wished you could do some badass maneuver to kick the gun away and shoot the bastard. Sadly, you are but a normal, boring, human who didn't want to take any chances getting shot. You should have invested in those self defense classes.

You put the safety on and slowly crouched to put the gun and bag onto the floor. Katherine followed, looking at you with worry. You slowly stood and raised your hands up once more.

"Turn around." Irons demanded you. You hesitated, and he pressed the gun further into your back. "Don't make me say it again."

You slowly turned around, arms still up, and made eye contact with the man. You glared with hatred as he looked you up and down.

"Hmm, you're a pretty little thing. A hot mess though." He said as he glanced at your bloodied and dirt covered clothing. "You just got here? I would have recognized you amongst the other survivors." 

"Yes." You spat. You didn't like the way he was looking at you. The same way Katherine had described last week at the diner. Like he wanted to murder and sleep with you.

"You should have stayed away. Katherine over there, well, she has a prior engagement she will be attending to." You didn't like the way he said that.

"Yeah right. She's not going anywhere with you." Ben spat as you glared at the man, fully ready to fight him, even if he had a gun to you, if so much as glanced at Katherine.

"You're really in no position to make that decision. Now, back up toward the cell, girl." He gestured to the cell Ben was in. 

You didn't move, making him more aggressive. He pointed the gun to Katherine and you gasped, quickly stepping back and in front of her, once more in the line of fire.

"Stop! Okay, stop. I'll do as you say. Just, please don't hurt her." You begged. Begging to him left a bitter taste in your mouth, but there was nothing else you could do.

Irons grinned a nasty grin. Clearly enjoying the power he held over you three. "That's more like it. Back up." He backed you up to the cell where Ben was at. Your back was pressed against the steel bars and you stood right next to Katherine. You blindly reached out for her hands as you watched Irons closely. She grabbed your hand and squeezed so tightly that you felt the bones would shatter at any moment.

She's terrified.

Irons quickly reached forward and grabbed Katherine, wrapping his left arm over her chest and holding a gun at her temple with his right hand. She screamed in fear and you lunged forward to take her back. Ben shouted and banged angrily against the bars. Zombies from the neighboring cells growled and groaned louder from the noises, making the atmosphere feel even more unsettling.

"Ah ah ah. Don't move. I won't hesitate to pull the trigger. You both know this." He said to you and Ben. You paused, before you slowly backed away, a few tears escaped and trailed down your face. Katherine was openly sobbing, eyes pleadingly staring at you for help.

"Please, let her go. Take me if you have to just, please. Don't hurt her." You begged.

You have no control over the situation. And that scared you.

He seemed to consider your offer for a moment, but shook his head. "No, she'll stay with me." He puts the chips into the slots, still holding Katherine at gunpoint, and opens Ben's cell. "Now, why don't you join your friend in that cell? Keep him company until I come back for you two."

You don't move, making him shoot the wall beside you. You jumped and Katherine screamed.

"Just do it, Y/n! Do as he says! For once, don't be a hero! I'll be fine!" Katherine sobbed. You and Ben didn't believe her. Neither did she. She knew this would be the last time she saw you. But she didn't want her best friend or boyfriend to die for her. She didn't want anyone to die for her.

You reluctantly walked into the cell. Ben went to run out and attack Irons, but the cell quickly slammed shut before he could. You leaned against the bars and held onto them with a tight grip, glaring at Irons. If looks could kill, he'd be long gone by now.

"Have fun you two. I'll be back later. Maybe." Iron laughed as he walked away with a sobbing Katherine.

"I love you, Ben! I love you, Y/n! You were the best friend I've ever had. Protect each other!" Katherine yelled. Tears streamed down your face as you watched your best friend be dragged away. You failed her.

"Get back here you son of a bitch!" Ben yelled.

"Katherine! Katherine! Don't you dare give up! You fight! Please fight!" You yelled desperately.

You sighed in defeat as they walked out of sight. You wiped away your tears and looked for a way out. Your bag. You see your bag on the other side of the hall and sit on the ground, reaching as far as you could through the bars to get it. But it was too far away.

You grunt and hit the ground in frustration. You noticed Ben's bag in the corner of the cell and crawled to it.

"Hey! What are you doing?" Ben asked incredulously.

"Looking for something to get us out." You told him as you shuffled through his bag.

"There's nothing. Believe me, I've already looked in the last week I've been here." Ben sighed.

You let out a shout of frustration and threw the bag to the ground. His stuff fell out and he quickly rushed to put it back.

"Hey! Careful. The tape recorder is in there."

"The one from the Annette interview?" 

"Yeah. I have it just in case." He said as he sat on the bed.

"I gave the drive to a S.T.A.R.S member. Jill Valentine. I figured she could get further with it than we could." You said as you sat on the bed beside him.

"Probably for the best. We don't have much use for it stuck in here." Ben sighed as he lit a cigarette, offering a box toward you.

You debated for a moment before shaking your head. You're not a smoker. And if you somehow miraculously survived all this, you'll be damned if lung cancer was the thing that took you out.

"Suit yourself." Ben shrugged, taking a drag of his cigarette. "When's the last time you've slept?" 

You snorted. "I don't know. What day is it?" 

"Might as well get some sleep, Y/n. Not like we can get out of here anytime soon. Here, I'll even sit on the floor for you." He said, moving off the bed to sit on the floor.

"How thoughtful." You deadpanned as you laid on the bed. You looked at your watch and sighed. It was broken. When did that happen?

You looked to the ceiling and hoped, to whatever entity out there, that Katherine will be alright. That all three of you will be okay.

This day wasn't any better.

[hansirilow]

alright. so this is weird. 

i logged into this account while i was looking for a bootleg post i had saved years ago. first time i've logged in here in like.... five years? i saw the names of a lot of friends i had on here. i saw some inbox messages too, i dunno how old they are. i saw some old posts and messages and just reminisced/spiraled a little bit. i used this blog religiously from when i was 14 to like 18ish. i went thru a lot on here. i had community on here when i was at my loneliest. i was volatile and so scared and trans and queer and i guess in some ways, nothing has changed. im 25 now, gonna be 26 in a couple weeks. i figured i could make a little post to update y'all. i dunno if anyone will read this. but i've been thinking a lot about my friends i made here lately.

i turn 26 in a little over a month. i'm still jasper, havent transitioned yet, but i might be the gayest i've ever been. my coming out process has been Awful to say the least. but my 9 year anniversary with my partner jer is coming up. i'm spending my 26th birthday with jer in salem, mass, my favorite city in the world. 

i have an associates degree in theatre and a bachelors degree in english with a creative writing concentration. not doing anything in those fields yet but i'm figuring things out. it hasn't been exactly easy. 

i'm figuring my life out i guess! i went thru a very traumatic falling out with a group of friends that abused me during the pandemic. i lost a lot of my college life to a horrible group of people, it's a whole thing i'm not gonna get into right now. in some ways i'm still recovering from that. in some ways i'm better than i've ever been. 

i'm like high key a furry now tbh. i have a fursona named salem who kinda saved my life i guess. he is everything to me. 

no shock here but i still love fall out boy with every part of my heart, maybe even more than i did when i was a kid. i got my first tattoo and it's a fall out boy one. i also got into a lot of other alternative bands! i adore ghost a lot, i'm seeing them in july. i also love sleep token, spiritbox, bad omens, linkin park, and poppy. music has gotten me thru the worst of the shit i've been thru. 

and despite everything, i still love musicals and andy and spring awakening and everything. i actually logged in looking for a wicked bootleg in the wake of the movie coming out. i saw andy as jonathan in tick tick boom in cape cod a couple months ago! front row in this old little local theatre, what a magical night it was. i'm planning on getting andy's handwriting tattooed on me still, and i want some other musical related tattoos eventually (i'll probably be covered in a couple years: gender affirming care). 

also i really love spiderman now but no one's shocked by that either, that's just transmasc rite of passage i think. 

i guess i'm still the same in a lot of ways. that weirdo little gay boy that felt too much and definitely shared too much. i am so sorry for being way too TMI when i was younger. i was way too young and unsupervised and lonely as hell. i'm happy to say i'm a bit older and a little less lonely and a little more reserved in what i share online now lmfao 

that being said, i do art and stuff still! i post my art on instagram (sometimes) at @/witchcityspider and on bluesky @/kingofpentacles if anyone wants to find me there. or if you want my discord or my personal instagram you can let me know. i made another blog at one point that i use here and there: @shadowacademy 

i've thought about reaching out to people i used to talk to here but i didn't wanna freak anyone out, so i'm doing this instead. 

i'll keep this blog up, check it here and there. in some ways i miss it. i miss the community i guess, having a place i belonged. i've gone through a lot and lost a lot of friends over the past couple years. i mean, hell, i went through a lot on here. it was a huge part of my life, somedays my little sect on here was all i had. and i hope that, even my friends that have deactivated or aren't active, i hope you all are well and happier than we were in 2015. almost a decade ago. 

i guess i just wanna hug my little 15 year old self and i wish i could warn him about what has happened to us since, but i can't. but we made it out. despite everything, it's still me. 

anyways. i'm around if you're looking to find me. i'm off trying to be cryptic and mysterious but just coming off as a certified yapper elsewhere. i don't wanna be weird and interrupt people that don't wanna see me again, but i do miss so many people from here. i wonder if they ever remember this or think of me and wonder where i've been. maybe it's selfish or maybe it's just human, i'm not sure. 

but i'm here. figuring my shit out, but i'm here. 

i love all of your lights. you are fabulous creatures, each and every one.

jasper morningstar 

or hanschen rilow 

whichever you prefer 

x 

[nickmaghighlights]

Nick Mag Highlights - #43 August 1998

We now return to our regularly scheduled programming! Spring is in the air, but can’t it just be summer already? Let’s get a head start by checking out Issue #43 from August, 1998.

First let me say, I love this cover! It really surprises me that they didn’t feature more Nicktoons crossovers for cover art, it’s a fun idea. Dare I say it might be the only Nickelodeon Magazine cover featuring a crossover between different Nick shows? With original art, I mean. (The Jimmy-Timmy Power Hour and its sequels got their own dedicated issue covers but that's different, it doesn't count.)

Before we begin, just letting you know you can read the magazine along with me here.

Well, can you find which flavors are fake and which are real? 

Yep, the ones that sound fake… are fake! 

It’s a bit obvious isn’t it? If Gatorade had played their cards right they could have tripped everyone up and taken this as an opportunity to announce a new “Trout” flavor. Missed opportunity indeed.

I’d say we’ve got the makings of another winner issue here. There’s nothing like the excitement of an impending summer vacation! Although, if you were alive when this magazine was released, chances are summer vacation stopped being a thing for you a while ago. But hey, I say you're never too old to have fun! So grab your sunscreen, beach towels, and feel free to take any notes for when you’re making your summer plans. Let’s dive in!

A three foot long poster? Well I’ll be, I’m surprised there’s any space left in the box to fit the cereal! 

Little history lesson here for those unfamiliar: If you check the bottom right of the page, you’ll find mention of nickelOzone. nickelOzone was a short-lived hour-long programming block that ran on Nickelodeon from 1998 to 2000. Suppose this little cereal stunt was a means of promoting their new block? That might be even easier to figure out than the Gatorade puzzle.

Online sources say that nickelOzone played from Sunday to Friday (sorry, Saturday fans) from 8 PM to 9 PM, and was aimed towards an older, preteen audience. I’m not really sure about that though, since it seemed to just play shows from Nick’s usual lineup anyway, like Hey Arnold! for example.

Maybe checking out the bumper that would play to start off the block will shed some light on things.

… Nope, guess not.

Also no, I'm not going to say anything about the three-legged freak boy in the ad. Stop asking.

Gotta say, they’re already really selling me on the summer vibes. I appreciate using stuff like kayaking and carnivals to represent summer fun as opposed to the usual beach iconography. I don’t appreciate the closeup dog mouth picture as much.

That one question about the interviews Nick Magazine conducts is a bit interesting though, because I’ve also wondered how they get all their short responses, like for these kinds of sections:

Kudos to R.L. Stine for looking exactly like you expect he would.

Did they just send out questions en masse via email or letters, and publish whatever responses they got in time? I wonder if some of the actors’ agents or PR people ever answered on behalf of their client with on-brand responses because the actors themselves were busy. I know they’re just one or two sentences, but I wouldn’t be surprised if big actors have people to take care of little promotional stuff like this, even if they’re about answering personal questions. What do you think?

Alright, here’s a better question: Am I overthinking this?

I would really love to speak to someone who won or went to the same school as someone who won one of these kinds of giveaways. Y’know, one of these types where you win a party for your class or have a popular band come and do a concert in the gymnasium. That kind of thing. I wonder how they go about planning and executing that sort of operation. What if the school just says no? Maybe they just dump the prizes at your house.

I can’t say I expected something quite so pleasant out of a Nickelodeon Magazine, but I like it! I’d also like to give some appreciation to the late Joan Steiner and her series of Look-Alikes books for giving me my next aesthetic to obsess over. Oh, to be a little guy living in a world made of snacks and knick-knacks without a care in the world…

If you find the world of Look-Alikes as lovely as I do and want to see more, you can borrow it from the Internet Archive.

Now even if it is just a s’more turned green, this still is a cute way to personalize a famous summer snack. I mean, just take a look at these satisfied customers! 

(Ask your doctor if you think soggy green marshmallows are the right choice for your summer camping trips.)

Some of you might be familiar with this ad’s TV commercial counterpart, but Nick Mag readers were also obliged to find Banjo-Kazooie’s magic puzzle piece hiding in their grocery store’s usual Keebler goods. I find the choice to portray Banjo & Kazooie as mute, 3D freaks in a 2D world a little odd. Did they think kids wouldn’t understand the game was 3D if Banjo was illustrated, or something?

If you were even thinking about becoming your school’s #1 cool kid, you better do your research in amassing the components necessary to complete the Rugrats style. This is so crucial, Nickelodeon was even kind enough to give 500 kids the chance to snag chic baby merchandise to secure their high-end societal status. Oh yeah, the $10,000 grand prize is neat too, I guess. 

Excuse the weird aspect ratio, I had to edit the page slightly to make everything look neat for the picture.

In addition to gag product labels, Nick Magazine also used to be in the business of gag postcards. Ain’t that just the bee’s knees? I don’t recall Nick printing many of these back when I started reading in the 2000’s (I mean c’mon, postcards? Instant message me when they start printing gag emails, grandpa), which is unfortunate. I might’ve gotten more use out of these than a fake label for dental floss. There were very few times as a child where my friends were in close vicinity to dental floss, but they definitely all had mailboxes!

Jeez, what is this, the giveaway issue? Sorry Arnold, but I already just spent hours convincing my Mom to search for Banjo-Kazooie's magic puzzle piece and apply for a lifetime's supply of Rugrats pencils. Just be happy I bought your 3-foot long poster and move along!

Ah, is there any other activity more tried-and-true than the ever-popular maze? Between activity books and restaurant kids’ menus I think they may be more common than the word search at this point.

Interestingly, when also considering the Look-Alikes pages, I’m surprised by how straightforward this magazine is when it comes to crediting the artists of these activities (and with big, bold, differently-colored text, no less). Back when I was checking out issue #115 I had to head to the back of the book just to find some proper attributions! I wonder what changed between 1998 and 2005?

Speaking of which, Rodica Prato is still active in the industry to this day! You can find a lot of her works on her Instagram. She does tons of large, natural landscapes in a style very similar to this page here, give her a look!

Another Comic Book, coming up! I’ve actually got a lot to say about this one cause-

Oh, uh, I’m sorry! It seems I accidentally skipped an interview. Usually they don't make 'em as small as this… Hm, this is awkward…

Seriously, what's with the shortchange? Did they want to get Chevy Chase and when that fell through interviewing Beverly D'Angelo was Plan B? Sorry you weren't deemed full page material, Mrs. Griswold.

Alright, sorry, where were we? Right, let’s take a look at the Comic Book for this issue.

Starting us off, I actually got a lot of laughs out of the “Prankvertisement” on the left page, maybe the most I’ve laughed at any Nick Mag content since starting this blog! Convincing someone they mathematically don’t exist and having them immediately fade away, unable to even find a hole in the formula is so funny in such a ridiculous way to me. 

Also, I tried the activity on the right page. It’s kind of a fun idea, but it made me dizzy. I recommend it to anyone reading who might be deserving of such a fate.

Finally, another history lesson opportunity! The Southern Fried Fugitives was one of Nick Magazine’s first ongoing comics, and was pretty synonymous with the mag’s brand during their publication. It had been canceled sometime before the 2000’s, and while it's personally not the most appealing to me, I can see how its art and wacky premise factored into its longevity.

Eagle-eyed readers might have already spotted these strips underneath some of the pages. Like the similarly formatted Impy & Wormer, these are short gags slotted in the bottom of each page of the Comic Book in what’s probably the most effective use of empty space since that ship that got stuck in the Suez Canal. There’s more than what’s in my picture, but they all also follow the “[Thing] who is always stuck 10 seconds in the future” setup, so take a look if you’re really dying for more of those. 

These strips come from famous American illustrator Tony Millionaire, who’s probably most well-known for his Sock Monkey series of children’s books and the comic strip Maakies. He’s worked with DC & Marvel, done art for a They Might Be Giants album, and has produced a veritable mountain of independent work. On the Nickelodeon side of things, he recently did work on Boom! Studios’ Rocko’s Modern Life series of comic books. You can find him and his stunning work on Instagram.

So, after passing another edition of Scene but Not Heard and a short n’ sweet CatDog comic I haven’t got much to say on, we come across… Hey, I remember these guys! Funky & Miriam’s House of Random Words was a sort of comic/activity hybrid where readers were challenged to guess the right definition of the word the characters were using. These are fun! And they make a vocabulary virtuoso such as myself feel smart, in spite of the fact I’m reading a magazine for children.

Odd thing to end off the Comic Book with, don’t you think? Unless it ended earlier? I can never tell since they don’t actually say when the Comic Book is over, exactly. Anyway, I know how this sounds, but I would really appreciate some citations here! How can we be so sure that “monster obstacles” in minigolf only really started in the 1950s? 

Hm?

Really making kids put the work in here, huh? I feel like this might be one too many mazes above the average reader’s paygrade. Good thing kids can just turn the page or you would've severely handicapped your marketing.

Pages edited to show both the back and front.

This is a pretty fun idea for a prank, and I know as a kid I would’ve appreciated some way to liven up the road trip experience. A gag newspaper would’ve done the trick! Well, it sounds good on paper, but maybe not magazine paper. Yeah I feel like the crinkly texture of plastic-y paper might give away this one-page periodical as a phony before the prankee gets the chance to read it. Unfortunate, but what can you do? Statistically this prank must’ve worked at least one time.

Alright, I can usually handle Nickelodeon’s slime-based image and all the drippings that have come with it, but this actually makes me want to gag. The idea of cracking through the cold, hard exterior of a popsicle and unearthing a filling of thick, syrupy slop underneath is not really my idea of a good time. A quick look-up shows that these things do indeed have their fans, so maybe I’m missing grout- er, uh, missing out.

We’ve got our calendar for the issue here, and while I’m still not impressed by the calendar’s comedy, I do appreciate the wide variety of fun facts and celebrity birthdays. This is just another way for kids to gain little random pieces of knowledge, and I’m all for it! Kids love finding out random facts, it's like the fun version of learning.

This is a pretty good tutorial, and it actually teaches some important drawing tips, like breaking down figures into shapes and making outlines and temporary lines for guidance. Yeah it’s basic, but for a young audience, I give it a thumbs-up. Just like Arnold.

Oh, wow. This is genuinely some history in the making! It’s interesting to see the likes of The Fairly Oddparents and ChalkZone being mentioned before they and their creators became such hot topics. For those unfamiliar or forgetful, Oh Yeah! Cartoons was a Nickelodeon show that premiered in 1998. It was an anthology of sorts, with each episode featuring a couple of short cartoons created by various filmmakers in the industry. It ran for three years, spanning a total of 34 episodes, and like those other two shows I mentioned, it was where My Life as a Teenage Robot got its start. Cartoon Network had tried a similar format a couple years before Oh Yeah! Cartoons, with its own anthology show What a Cartoon!. That show gave us Dexter’s Laboratory, The Powerpuff Girls, Johnny Bravo, among others. Both shows were fantastic means of creating tons of new, varied content and spawning shows that are still beloved to this day. 

So yeah, needless to say, can we get another one of these kinds of shows, please? There’s only so many more reboots you can make, right? Right?

Time to wrap things up, and we’ve got the usual last-minute ads and gags, but I do want to talk about Hey, Herb!. This was a section where readers could write in to then-Nickelodeon president Herb Scannell and ask their burning questions. As you can probably tell though, the audience of elementary school kids reading Nickelodeon Magazine usually weren’t very sure on what to ask. So these sections tend to be pretty small. As Nickelodeon’s fourth president, Scannell oversaw the release of some of Nick’s most popular shows, including Spongebob Squarepants, Danny Phantom, and Avatar: The Last Airbender during his ten-year long stint. I’d love to ask him what that was like, but seeing as how this was before all that, I guess these are pretty good questions too. (He does kind of look like Jimmy Smits).

And with that, we put a lid on another rip-roaring edition of Nickelodeon Magazine. As per usual, I didn’t get to everything in the issue, just the stuff I had things to say about. Honorable mentions for this issue include some gag flyers for fake tourists traps (to go along with the gag truckstop newspaper), and the previously mentioned CatDog and Scene but Not Heard comics. KABLAM! fans might also be interested in checking out page #58 which includes an interview with Stephen Holman, the creator of the show’s recurring Life with Loopy segment.

In other news, Nickelodeon just celebrated its 44th anniversary two days ago! So, why didn’t I post this NMH then instead of today? Well… it was April Fool’s Day too, wasn’t it? Uh, April Fool’s?

That’s all the fun in the sun we've got for now. Enjoy spring while you've still got it, 'cause summer will be here before you know it! Have fun, and until next time, keep on reading!

[banisheed]

I Write Sins and Tragedies || Siobhan & Metzli

TIMING: A few nights ago LOCATION: MuertArte PARTIES: Siobhan and Metzli SUMMARY: Siobhan visits MuertArte on invitation and with the promise of wine. Things don't turn out as planned and art is the last thing on anyone's mind. CONTENT: Emotional abuse (discussion), Physical abuse (discussion), Torture (discussion, description), Decapitation (post-mortem), Alcohol use (as an unhealthy coping technique)

Siobhan didn’t know what to think; she didn’t come to Wicked’s Rest to make friends or enjoy galleries or talk to very sad strangers on the internet. And yet, she wasn’t any closer to her goal and the boredom was starting to claw at her, like an animal trapped under her skin. She bounced with that energy as she moved through the streets. Dressed as she usually was--covered from neck to toe in designer labels she didn’t quite understand--she felt out of place among the bustle of people crowding through downtown on a saturday night. Fortunately for the banshee, when it came to humans, out of place was exactly how she liked to feel. MuertArte felt just as out of place; a renovated building among the masses of crumbling stone. Siobhan stepped up to the door, knocking at first with hesitation. Right, this was a public establishment. She didn’t need to do that. She pushed the doors in and called out. “Metzli?” Should she have mentioned that she’d never been to a gallery before? She called out again, a little louder, letting her voice carry across the space--a display of vocal control that would make any banshee jealous. Unfortunately, none ever seemed to be very jealous of Siobhan. “Metzli?” She called again, hovering by the door. 

—

Art had a way of captivating the viewer, especially when it resonated so powerfully. For someone that felt so little most days, Metzli always felt a hint of a spark when they found a piece that said a million words with each paint stroke. It seemed so hypocritical. To proclaim to feel nothing and be nothing, and yet an image brought to life on canvas did something. They supposed it wasn’t totally wrong. As soon as the wave crashed over their chest, it receded just as quickly. Like a wave on the beach’s shore. Metzli could never figure out how to make it stay, and they thought that was fine. Feeling nothing and being nothing was happiness. Or so they were told. 

“Hm?” Metzli arched a brow at the sound of their name, rising from their desk quickly. Checking their watch, they could see it was just past noon. Around the time that their host went to lunch. They were usually much better about keeping time, but with the abundance of success, the amount of art that came in left Metzli’s hands full. Quickly, they marched to MuertArte’s entrance, prepared to give their best introduction. “My apologies, ma’am.” They bowed their head, adjusting their tie. “Welcome to MuertArte. You called for me by my name. Are you wishing to display or have a tour?” When they stood straight once again, Metzli’s head tilted curiously, almost ominously, but not by choice. As much as they wanted to appear friendly to patrons, they just couldn’t get the hang of facial expressions. 

—

Siobhan starred. She didn’t mean to but as an observer by birthright she had a habit of digesting the world through long, silent stretches of time. She noticed three things. The first: Metzli was tall. Second: Metzli had an accent. And finally: Metzli was dead. That much came to her in the telltale trickle down her back and the tug in her slow heart, pulling her towards the earth as if to join the bodies there. And, yes, there was the arm too, but she’d been expecting the arm. Metzli being undead was a surprise. “It’s me,” she pointed lamely at herself. “Siobhan, from online?” She couldn’t be sure how much she might be understood, her Irish accent wasn’t as thick as it used to be but it was still the most notable part about her—other than the obvious beauty. “You said to come? I’m sorry I…” She paused. The thing about the undead wasn’t so much that they were dead—that was the good part—it was the moving that was upsetting. The blinking, the tilting of the head. At least Metzli seemed largely unemotive; Siobhan had a hard time stomaching being smiled at by a perversion of the natural order. She forced herself to smile instead. “I’ve never been to a gallery,” she said, stepping closer. “I grew up in a time and place where art was just on the streets or in the homes.” Was actually several human heads on a stick arranged into the vague shape of a curvaceous woman. “You mentioned something about showing me around? And beer? And wine?” Now she’d really need both.

—

“Siobhan…” Metzli parroted the name back to its owner, nodding slowly. “Yes, I remember you. You are beautiful.” And she was. Her skin looked as smooth as stone, and she had dark hair and shiny hues. For a moment, Metzli was lost on what to say, comfortable with the silence that ended all too quickly. Siobhan had a similar lilt in her voice as Honey, but there was a deeper tone to it. Irish maybe, though they couldn’t be too sure of that. They supposed a little more talking would need to be had for answers to come. 

“Yes, I show you around.” Looking to the front desk, Metzli walked around it to find the mini fridge and wine rack they kept stocked for occasions such as that one. “What would you like? For a guest like you, I can open a 1930s port.” They watched Siobhan with an empty expression, unsure what to make of her visage. She looked stiff and maybe…fearful? Though that didn’t make much sense. Metzli didn’t know Siobhan well, but she didn’t seem the type to be scared so easily. 

—

“I…” Siobhan swallowed. “Yes, I am beautiful.” She gestured at Metzli’s body, feeling the compulsion to return the politeness. Yet, calling an abomination attractive would be… Siobhan swallowed again, fruitlessly working at the lump in her throat. “You’re tall,” she blurted and was instantly thankful for the change in topic. “1930s port,” she sighed. “Fates, I remember the 30s. Aye. Please. I’ll take that.” Her head throbbed and her hands twitched at her sides. She had her knife on her; she always had her knife on her. What sort of undead was Metzli? Blood, brains, nightmares or revenge? Should she go for the chest or the head? Beheading was always a safe bet, wasn’t it? Her fingers twitched again, pulling her hands into tight fists. She swallowed. “You didn’t tell me…” She looked at Metzli: their expressionless yet decidedly sad face, their lanky body, the suit. Her mind flared with what she was supposed to do; she could see it clearly as it unfolded in her imagination. Off with their head, off with their head, off with their head. “Sorry.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “I didn’t know you’d be…” She swallowed. Metzli didn’t like a liar and neither did she. She dropped her hand. “Dead.”

—

 “Hmph…” Siobhan’s honesty knew no bounds, and that was refreshing enough to let their version of a chuckle escape. Metzli reached for the port glasses and poured carefully, listening to Siobhan speak. Her voice was nervous, maybe even frustrated. For what reason, they wondered? Then, the question came, sudden and urgent, as if she had already answered everything in her mind and now the truth was tumbling into her. 

Somehow, she knew the person in front of her was dead. The proclamation didn’t invoke a reaction, Metzli was taught composure in tense situations such as that. Words meant nothing until actions provoked them. It was always best to remain calm until the opposing party revealed their hand. “No tell because you did not ask.” They slid the glass over the counter for Siobhan to take, grabbing their own bloody wine to pour for themself. “Dangerous to reveal, but now you know by looking at me?” Their eyes narrowed as they tipped their glass toward their mouth, pausing for a sip. “How you know? Will you tell?”

—

Siobhan took the wine gratefully, drinking it all at once. She should have stopped to savor it but her hands trembled and she needed her balm. What had the years without her aos sí done to her? Fates, she was a terrible soldier and a worse banshee; a real mess. She could turn her emotions off like a switch, she’d done it before—it was the only way she ever did it. Compartmentalize. Turn the pressure off. Siobhan tried. She slapped the glass back down a little too hard and winced at the rattle. “Sorry,” she mumbled and now she was apologizing to someone whose existence was a mistake. “How long have you been dead? Was it before or after your master?” She pictured the moments clearly in her head; all the empty walls Metzli must have stared at. Year after year. The same thing over and over again. Daytime could only be told by how sunlight burned across skin, but at some point, even that began to feel like nothing. She knew it. She’d lived it. With her back tormented by phantom aches the only thing that she ever lived for were the letters that came—first through the mail and then through her computer. Year after year. The same thing. 

Something hit the back of Siobhan’s throat and she pushed her wine glass forward. “More wine,” she commanded. Something was flaring in her stomach; emotions she wouldn’t name. Her guts twisted. “I’m not human either,” she confessed in a rush. “And I live long; not proper immortal like you but…” Siobhan rolled her shoulders, emotions bubbled up and burst under her skin. She used to be good at keeping them quiet once. No, maybe she’d always been bad at it. Her mother always said she was too emotional. Perhaps she’d only ever been good at pretending she wasn’t. Siobhan shook her head. No, no, she was good at it. She was a faithful servant of Fate and a good banshee and her mother was proud of her. Yes. Yes. 

Slowly, Siobhan pulled the glove off her right hand, revealing first the thick scar that ran like an equator across her palm. Then, turning her hand over, she showed off the letters that had been carved into her flesh and all the micro scars from her years of living. “I know what it’s like, at least a little bit. For years, years and years and years, to be treated like a…” No, no, there was nothing wrong with the way she had been raised. Siobhan snapped her glove back on quickly. “Sorry,” she apologized again. “You were saying?” 

—

“About one-hundred-thirty years. Master turn me and forced me into clan. Be soldier for his bidding. Mindless and numb. I was thirty when I die. Village massacred.” Metzli explained, nodding and dutifully filling Siobhan’s glass to the brim. She was reeling, for some odd reason. It was too much emotion for Metzli’s liking, but they were starting to grow used to people’s reactions. At least Siobhan wasn’t human. She had that going for her. “Do not know why he chose me. Called me his favorite pet. Finally kill him last year.” The tale didn't spark any reaction, not externally. For a brief moment, something squeezed within Metzli, prompting them to sip on their wine quietly.

It was a relief when Siobhan revealed her hand, giving them something different to focus on, even if she hid it away just as quickly. Metzli looked toward the entrance, and then back to their guest, undoing the snaps and opening their shirt for their own reveal, but only the center of their torso. Their skin was painted with scars, and with no binder, so too was their clan tattoo. “We got tattoo when control was taught. Each line is ten year mark.” They sighed, snapping the buttons back. “No have to apologize. You made discovery and it gave you surprise. Is okay.”

The two were greeted with silence once Metzli finished speaking, waiting for Siobhan to respond. They liked the way she didn’t lie to them with a smile, not anymore. Not since she had entered and played her part as a polite guest. It was something Metzli could always respect. To have no fear of being oneself. How could someone not want to be? After over a century of someone preventing them the luxury, they couldn’t think of any reason to not take advantage of their new freedom. 

—

Every addition to Metzli’s past slotted into Siobhan’s head like a puzzle; the picture grew with each horrible admittance and every casual explanation of horror. She could see it. She could feel it. No, no, what a terrible thing--was this empathy? Siobhan pushed the end of her palms against her eyes, trying to kill the imagined images with the explosions of color that came from the pressure. Prior to Wicked’s Rest she hadn’t so much as bothered with a conversation longer than a few minutes with anyone. She dropped her hands and stared at Metzli’s tattoo. She was supposed to get one; all Dolan’s did on their 100th year anniversary of awakening. She was cast out too early. And the scars--

Siobhan’s hands snapped up to her eyes again. There was a switch she could flip, she used to do it all the time. She just needed to find it again. Wine helped. Yes, yes, wine helped. Siobhan reached out, snapping the bottle up and bringing it to her lips. The liquid went down quickly and with ease, the way 1930s port was never meant to. She slammed the bottle back down, empty now. The switch was there somewhere; she could find it between the intervals of buzzing. “I don’t know if you realize how fucked up your life is,” she hissed. “You could write a book.” Her legs started to feel lighter; she bounced on her heels. “It’d be a bestseller.” The sensation of Metzli’s death started to blur with the orchestra of the world. “You killed him, yeah?” Her skin felt hot; the violinists were warming up, tightening their strings. “Did he suffer?” She reached out for the glass of wine that Metzli had filled as she asked, picking it up carefully. “I would hope so.” She took a slow sip. A song swelled at once through her head with the rush of blood. There was the switch. 

She flipped it.

Siobhan smiled brightly, snapping into rigidly straight posture--just as her mother taught her was the correct way to stand. “You did surprise me!” She took more calculated sips of her wine. “I didn’t expect you to have so much history. Oh, but it’s not bad--” She waved a hand in the air. “Just surprising. I apologize for my display of emotion; I know, they’re annoying.” Siobhan took another sip and in a crashing wave, coldness settled into her body again. She didn’t think about how ironic it was that Metzli was trying to chase emotion while she was trying to push hers away. No, no, the thinking would ruin everything. “Sorry. Shall we move on with the tour? Pasts are such an unpleasant topic anyway. Crack on with the future, as the children say.” No child had ever said that.

—

“My life was fine for most part. Learn to fight and kill and hunt. Do not care for novel. Master will stay dead.” Whatever music played for Siobhan, it began to pick up in pace. Louder and louder, she willed it so. It was a wall of notes protecting her from the onslaught of pain that came with empathy. How funny it was that that was what the music did for her. It wasn’t a symphony of nature swelling to crescendos, meant to accompany one’s beat instead of drowning it. She didn’t want to let the emotions shout, to echo and grow powerful enough to shatter her walls of protection. 

All the while, Metzli was practically begging for the composer to let the symphony start. To let it play without a resting beat so that they could truly begin again, and not just be the hollow carcass Eloy created. His little toy that he hoped to make a small version of himself. No, he would not live on. He was dead thanks to Metzli, and he would stay that way. “I make rebellion and we attack. Siblings die but we win.” They said, scanning Siobhan who was now finishing the bottle off in her cup. “He suffered. He died angry and scared when I twist head and ripped it off.” The last place he’d ever live is in their memory, his face full of fear as Metzli ripped his head off. His expression in a permanent state of terror. 

They recalled the moment, their face unmoving until they spoke again. “I ran after. Many mad and wanted to hunt me, many want me to take over. I wanted to be free.” Metzli arched a brow, at last finished with their tale, and curious at the sharp change in Siobhan’s demeanor. “You are right. We move on.” It was better, if they were honest. She wasn’t emotional with her new mask of music. All the better, she was requesting the tour to begin. Metzli wouldn’t argue. 

“Come then. Down this hallway.” Their hand pointed to a dark hallway, only lit by spotlights on the pieces on display. “We begin with the international exhibit. Pieces I curated from everywhere. Different periods like baroque.” Metzli circles around the desk and went first, expecting Siobhan to follow. 

—

There was a tremor in Siobhan’s hands, a slight twitch as she stared at her reflection in the deep red wine. She was sure that Metzli didn’t fully appreciate at all how horrible their life was, but she knew that they knew it. When faced with a life like that, wasn’t numbness the only option? Siobhan shook her head; she was thinking again. She spent too much time inside her own head, her mother always said she did. “Have you done a painting of that?” She asked casually, maintaining her easy smile. “I think I’d love to see a rendition of you ripping your master’s head off--or anyone’s head off.” She imagined it coming off like pulling a piece of gum off from the underside of a table. Siobhan took another sip of her wine as she followed Metzli. Yes, yes, they were moving on. 

Siobhan cast her earlier weakness out of her mind and forced it to stay locked in the same cupboards that housed her growing collection of mistakes. “Will you tell me where you’ve gotten these pieces from?” Siobhan asked. “I’ve only really seen European art, I never paid much attention to beauty as I traveled further.” She turned attention to the art; the cacophony of colors and texture felt like nothing to her now. It was a sad consequence of the switch but she wasn’t a muse, she could deal with not being able to appreciate art. Her momentary slip was humiliating enough, she wouldn’t risk it again.

—

Siobhan’s remark about wanting to see an image of a beheading perplexed Metzli. She had had a negative reaction to her discovery that they were dead, yet she wanted to see someone else’s death? Or was it the violence in the act that drew such a positive interest? Metzli pondered quietly, coming to a stop in front of a piece. They did still have a forger locked away in their hidden room. Whether they were dead or alive, Metzli wasn’t sure. They hadn’t checked since the night prior. For a few moments, likely too long, they entertained the idea of taking the tour elsewhere. 

If Siobhan was okay with them murdering their master, then it seemed reasonable, to them, that she’d be fine with their murder room. Right? Wait, Metzli blinked, realizing they were in their head too long. “Do you want to see and learn about pieces or do you want to see a head ripped off?” Well, a possible beheading. If the man was already dead, Metzli wouldn’t desecrate a body like that post-mortem. Not unless they really had to. “Maybe. Have to see if man is dead first.”

—

Siobhan’s neck cracked as she whipped it to the side to look at Metzli. She blinked at them, thinking she hadn’t heard right. This was the wine produced wishful thinking; it happened all the time. ‘Hello, how are you’ often became ‘please kill me and take my bones’. “I’m sorry?” She blinked. Metzli didn’t look like they were joking, of course not. She wasn’t even sure Metzli could joke. “Fuck,” she exhaled with a quiver, “I would love to watch a beheading.” She really would; she always said she must have been born in the wrong millennium. By the time of her birth and completed training, public executions were not so much the fashion. Oh, to have been born during the guillotine’s prime. “Yes, very much. I would love that. Even just to see a dead body that’s not…” She gestured in Metzli’s direction, choosing to let her motion finish her sentence. “Not to offend you, but I like the dead dead ones.” She glanced back at the paintings. They were nice, but she wasn’t in the mood. A beheading, however, was just the sort of thing she was always in the mood for. She looked back at Metzli. “Please.” She gestured out. “Lead the way.”

—

Well, that didn’t take a lot of convincing, and an explanation was given. Siobhan liked both death and violence, but only if the dead stay dead. Metzli could respect that. They weren’t supposed to come back to life. Existing meant that they broke several laws of nature, bending it to the will of the bite. For a moment, as they guided their guest to their secret room, they wondered if that was the reason why Siobhan reacted so negatively. 

Metzli’s heart was no longer beating, yet they continued on as if it was, unlocking a door and revealing a body on the ground in a room with the thermostat as low as it could go. She had a right to her beliefs, and in kind, Metzli would respect them. “Hmph…” They knelt on the ground, checking for a pulse. “Already dead.” Pools of blood and spatter painted the room, thick and coagulated from exposure to the air. An array of lacerations littered the man’s body, the knife only feet away on a metal table. “Thought he last longer, but…” Metzli stood up, stepping back, “Too weak I guess.”

—

Siobhan should have known that when she didn’t have to swallow a scream, there wouldn’t be any fun murder. Still, she had hoped for it. And still, she felt disappointed. “Oh,” she frowned, staring at the dead body. It was a fine display of blood loss; she could do better though. Siobhan stepped forward, kneeling beside Metzli. She didn’t question the purpose this room had--the cold didn’t bother her corpse-like body and if she hadn’t been taught how to cover her tracks by her strict mother, she’d probably have a murder room too. Siobhan looked at the blood on the walls and the knife on the metal table. “Nice handiwork,” she praised, still confident she could do better. She turned her attention back to the body. “What are you going to do with it?” She paused. “Can I have a bone?” 

—

“Was going to feed body to my friend. She gets rid of evidence for me.” Metzli pulled their hand away from the man’s neck, tongue dragging over their fangs. They hadn’t even noticed that they extended, too lost in the moment of revealing one of their best kept secrets. “She usually eats everything—even the bones, but I will tell her to leave a few out. Which one do you want?” Eyes lingered over Siobhan, wondering for a moment–again–at what she was.

She was long-living, but not immortal. Has the ability to sense the undead by just walking into the room. These abilities weren’t exactly giving Metzli any clues, but they were intrigued. Maybe, if Siobhan didn’t answer their question, they could ask Honey. She was practically an encyclopedia of knowledge. They supposed that was the benefit to living four centuries, with freedom no less. That, unfortunately, wasn’t a luxury Metzli was afforded, so they had to stick to the old fashion method: asking questions.

“May I ask what you are?”

—

“Is your friend an incinerator?” Siobhan sighed, full of envy. She wanted a friend that would eat her dead bodies for her, bones and all. That was a true friendship. “Or a woodchipper?” She’d put a body through one of those once; it was a good time. “I have to wait?” She whined softly. “Can’t I just take one now? I’ll leave the meat intact—I’m very good at deboning a human.” She was starting to suspect she was so good at it that she could do it with her eyes closed. She hadn’t tested the theory yet but she was confident anyway. 

“Banshee,” Siobhan said quickly, before her brain had caught up with the question. She froze for a second, wide-eyed as she stared at the dead body. She glanced at the wine that was miraculous still in her hand. She downed it all, eyeing the bottom of the glass and the drops of liquid that remained. Alcohol was also a double-edged sword: it helped with turning the emotions off but it made her mind less careful and her words sloppy. Well, she’d dug herself this grave she may as well lay in it. Metzli was being horribly honest; they’d shown her a murder room, let her drink vintage wine and offered to not comment about her earlier emotional outburst. All in all, there were worse graves to lay in. “It’s a type of fae, are you familiar?” Siobhan looked at Metzli, smiling. “Harbingers of death? Scream a lot? Beautiful? Great in bed?” The last two weren’t traits of the species, but Siobhan liked to think they were traits of herself.

—

“Banshee.” Metzli mimed, finding the word a little unfamiliar on their tongue. Though, it did have a twinge of something connected to it. They thought back, closing their eyes and furrowing their brows as they recalled a moment in time. It was Honey’s voice. In passing, she’d mentioned banshees, but far more than that, she spoke beautifully about fae. The way she even thought about them harbored close to worship. “Other folk.” They said, removing their knife from its holster. 

With a practiced hand, the knife glided over the man’s skin, sinking into the neck with ease. Metzli thought giving the head would be best. Fitting that into a bag versus the odd shape of a limb? The answer was clear. Head. “Friend has told me about fae. Think she worships.” They continued to slice, blood coating their skin and squeezing their stomach despite the stale smell of it. “Never mention beds, but beauty yes.”

Tugging as carefully as they could, Metzli finished their mission, and removed the head with ease. “There. You may have this.”

—

“You have a friend that worships fae?” Siobhan’s were wide as she looked over to Metzli. Again, she found herself trying to search that impassive face for the lie and again, she had to remind herself that Metzli didn’t really lie. “I think your friend and I will get along,” she straightened up, smiling to herself. Yes, fae ought to be worshiped. So then, why did her stomach twist at the idea? Siobhan forced her attention to snap to Metzli and their actions. She’d expected to get a finger at most, a whole head was more than generous. 

“That’s very sweet of you, Metzli.” Siobhan took the head with a bright smile, holding it up to gaze into the dead eyes. “This is a little romantic.” Siobhan peeked out from behind the head. “Wine. Art. A dead body. You gave me a whole head. You must be very popular with the ladies, Metzli.” She tossed the head between her hands, feeling the weight under her fingers. She dug into the soft, tender flesh. Perhaps she’d try preserving the whole head, this time. “Can I get a bag for this or…” She rose quickly, eager to get home and sit with the visions of death that accompanied the head. “Do you kill often, Metzli? You seem practiced with that knife—again, you must be very popular.” 

—

“Yes. Scottish. Loves old ways and uses them a lot.” Metzli walked over the deep sink, washing their hands thoroughly. “Maybe you meet her eventually. She is always ‘round town.” Wiping off their hands, they turned back to Siobhan, watching her look almost adoringly at the head they’d just given her. Their brows quirked up, a little befuddled by the idea that everything they’d done had been taken as romantic. With Honey, that wouldn’t be so odd, but she was the only person Metzli had met that found their murderous tendencies attractive, or even remotely romantic. 

Siobhan had to be poking at them, like Anita always did. Only…her expression said otherwise. And she did say she didn’t lie either. Metzli was inclined to believe her, but they had to shake their head to disagree and reveal the truth. “Not popular. People are scared of me.” They turned back to the sink, kneeling to sift around the cabinet below it. 

“Only just have first kiss with friend.” A shrug, a passive one. “And first time. Many time now but only with her. Like I say, I scare people.” Finding an opaque bag, Metzli retrieved it and marched back over to Siobhan. “For you.” Their expression remained neutral, and they handed the bag off to Siobhan with a bow of their head. “Kill every few days. Many bodies in here every week.”

—

“Your first kiss… this week or…?” Siobhan blinked, staring blankly at Metzli as she waited for the eventual explanation. Metzli was a hunk, with women at their beck and call. At least, anyone who gave out wine this generously, didn’t mind an emotional outburst and showed off dead bodies with body parts in goodie bags must have been a true casanova. “And only with one person?” Siobhan blinked again, Metzli was not someone who joked. “I’m sorry—there’s nothing wrong with a lack of experience but uh…” She took the bag with an expression of bewilderment. “Murderers get laid a lot. It’s all the danger, it really attracts people. You’d be surprised at how many people I threaten to push down the stairs that end up taking me home—it’s strange the first time but people are really into it. It happened to me all the time.” With an emphasis on the past tense of the statement; Siobhan didn’t sleep around as much since her scars, it was always a hard topic to navigate. 

“And you—you’re…” Siobhan gestured with the hand that held the back, knocking around the head. “You’re hot! You’ve got the whole emotionally detached angle—people love that, very attractive to them. And you gave me a head! A whole head! In banshee culture this is…I mean, you don’t just give any girl a decapitated head.” Siobhan sighed. “And you had your first kiss…just now?” Siobhan shook her head. “Metzli, I think you should harness your sex appeal more.” She looked over at the person crumpled on the ground, now head-less and still completely dead. “I can’t believe you’ve killed more people than you’ve kissed.” Somewhere sitting in there was a deep tragedy, something about being a tool unworthy of affection. But Siobhan wasn’t going to chase the thought, it didn’t seem to be a good idea to chase thoughts around Metzli. 

“I guess I should get going but…” She paused, unsure this time why her body refused to move. 

—

“No. Months ago when we meet. Have learned a lot from her. Says am good with knives.” Metzli looked up in thought, searching for anything else Honey had told them. She always said they were a quick learner, always eager to discover new ways to make her smile and ask for more. Finally, they remembered what Honey had referred to them as. They blinked, standing straighter as if they’d taken a victory. “Calls me…something about being on top and servicing.” 

The way Siobhan reacted was a little bewildering, but Metzli learned quickly to always let people’s reactions ride themselves out. It was easier that way. Well, sort of. The easiest way to handle people was to simply walk away, but Metzli had a bit of a roadblock with Siobhan standing between them and the door. “How do I harness? Other friend try to teach me but nothing works. I say flesh looks edible and I am kicked out of business. No sense!” 

Frustration, albeit briefly, furrowed Metzli’s brows. It was more of the fact that they failed at something rather than failed at picking up a woman specifically. It seemed like no matter how hard they tried, they were just broken. That they would never be able to fix or undo whatever Eloy had done. But that wasn’t a topic they wanted to think about 

Sighing, Metzli rubbed at their eyes and relaxed their expression back to neutral. It didn’t serve anyone for them to behave the way they did. “Is fine though. All of it. Cannot just use truth. Can even say to you I would like to bed you and it will not work.” They gestured their hand to Siobhan vaguely, “Truth is too forward. People not like that very much.” Tisking to themself, Metzli leaned back onto the sink and nodded, looking back up to their guest. “Is okay if you have to go. Was actually nice to have you here. You are delight.”

—

“Yeah.” Siobhan’s gaze trailed from Metzli’s head to their feet. Her lips quirked up. “You would be a service top.” It was such an obvious conclusion that Siobhan chuckled as she pictured it--Metzli didn’t seem like the type to know how to take lead on their own. It was sweet, in a way. Whoever Metzli’s friend was, Siobhan was sure she was happy--satisfied. And that should have been it, an amusing thought and nothing more, but as Metzli continued Siobhan’s smirk grew sharper. Holding her head bag out on one finger, she let it slip off, bouncing off the floor. “Is that so?” She stepped closer, hand clasped behind her back. “Is that what you think, Metzli?” Her tongue darted out, quickly tracing the soft pink outline of her lip.

“Do you want to test that theory? Would you like to ask me to your bed, Metzli?” She cocked her head to the side, her brown eyes sparkling with amusement. She didn’t know if Metzli would meet her challenge, she didn’t know how serious they were about their friend, but none of it mattered to Siobhan. She wasn’t interested in romance and she never had a problem finding people who wanted to be naked around her. It had been some time for her, but she didn’t care about that either. To care would give more meaning to an act that wasn’t meant to have any. “I don’t have anywhere to go--I’m exactly where I want to be.” Siobhan lifted her hand into the air, pressing a finger firmly between Metzli’s collarbone. “Go on,” she smirked, “ask me.”

—

Well, that was unexpected. Metzli didn’t think their monologue of annoyance would turn into a duel of flirtations. They swallowed hard, standing straighter—feeling as if they somehow grew an inch taller. Siobhan was beautiful and anyone would be lucky to even speak to her. But to perform with her? The idea was daunting. Somehow, without even doing anything remotely intimate with Leila, Metzli knew that Siobhan would be an opposite experience. Similar to Honey maybe, but still different in that regard too. Their friend still cared for them even if it was rough, bordering on dangerous. But maybe that was okay. Metzli could use the experience. Honey would even be proud. 

Shuddering at the contact, it was all the vampire could do to not snap at Siobhan. Lucky for her, Metzli saw her touch incoming, granting them the opportunity to see she wasn’t threatening them. They stayed put, swallowing again and keeping their composure as best they could. Their nerves began to crawl up and down their skin, but they persisted, miming the way Siobhan approached them with a press of their fingers to her collarbone. Not as much finesse, but still, they tried. 

“I…I-I have bed in loft here. Can take you.” Metzli shifted their weight from one foot to the other, moving their hand away. What if this was a trick? Like one Anita would pull for a laugh? There was no way this would work, they thought. But they were already in too deep. They had to focus. Even if it was a trick, at the very least, an attempt was made and they could learn. 

“Would you…would you like to go with me? To my bed, I mean.”

—

Metzli had done it, Siobhan felt proud in a way; like watching a baby bird take flight. A little clumsy but once the wind was under their wings, they’d get there. In a few months, maybe they’d get it all out without stammering. “I would like to fuck you, yeah.” Siobhan leaned in, “just make it worth my time.” When she’d entered the gallery, sex was the last thing on her mind though it was never far from her thoughts. Thankfully, whoever had taught Metzli had done a good job of it. She’d drop a thank you note except even her strangeness had its limits. 

The night went on, stars, moon and all. And somewhere, in a cold room, a bagged head had been forgotten. And somewhere, in a loft, Siobhan felt happy to add her name to a very small list of people. Somewhere else, buried deeply, was a tragedy about tools and scars and unworthy affections and lack of experiences, but Siobhan didn’t think about that; to think about it would give meaning to an act that had none. 

The night went on. 

[theblackbodyofmyworks]

Penny Dreadfuls, the porn of literature

Now, with a heading that extreme, I have to explain myself, so let's start with why I call it that. I'm pretty sure everyone knows what porn is, but to boil it down to specifics, it's a form of photography usually don't have much creativity or variety, and they wouldn't necessarily be considered a form of high art by a majority of people, but despite all of it's flaws, it drags people in by manipulating their primal instincts. It is debatable about the moral and creative implications of such work, but regardless of the final results of such discussion, there will always be a constant demand for it. I think it's very much the same stuff with Penny Dreadfuls, and you don't need to look further than their cover art.

Here's an example, for starters, there's very little to no colour in the covers. This is so that the manufactures of the book can mass produce these for a minimal price, which kind of makes sense given that these books are only sold for a single penny, hence the name Penny Dreadful. Second, the title of the book is ridiculously long and lacking in minimalism, they make you question why they dragged it out to the lengths that they do with the fact that the first few words already make for a good title, well I have the answer, it's because they want to use elaborate details to grab someone's attention. They want to make sure that their book means business and has all kinds of action. Speaking of action, third is the artwork, like what exactly is going on here? There's just so much stuff with so much detail that it just makes the viewers understand that it's gonna be thrilling. And finally, it seems like every cover of a Penny Dreadful has to let you know that it only costs a penny, which I mean sounds like a dream come true, so in a lot of cases, none of what I mentioned before would really matter, but they REALLY want you to get invested.

This one as all of the things I mentioned before, drab black and yellow, long overly-elaborate title, WTH is going on artwork and the mention that it's only a penny, and do you notice how similar these two look? It's like they are all copying from each other.

You know, after all that I researched about these things, they really deserve a name as slanderous as "Penny Dreadful", they really are just cheap waste that rots the brain.

[citrusreadstoa]

Reading The Dark Prophecy: Chapter 13 (SPOILERS)

"My life goal is realized" What, working minimum-wage in a fast food chain? You think Lityerses might not recognize them if they just pretend they work there?

"Unless, of course, they were searching for intruders, specifically us..." You didn't get that already? Always assume there are people looking for you if your previous dream told you there are people looking for you.

"manipulating pins in a lock wouldn't be too different than weaving threads in a loom." Can anyone who has done both confirm? This sounds like iffy logic. "The two things sounded very different to me" What did I say? Exactly. "but I couldn't argue with the results." Also true.

"You'll know when I get my magic back, because you'll find yourself being tossed across Indianapolis." Can she do that? With her wind spirits? Also, I wondered earlier whether her invisible air servants got left behind on Ogygia, but the way they've talked about them since then suggests that they are not her servants, but actually regular air spirits she can command, maybe like Mellie. This is relieving. Maybe those nymphs can leave the island now if they want to. Or maybe as nymphs they're more comfortable with staying in one place like dryads, idk.

"Carnivorous horse mix?" Oh no no no, not the man-eating poop horses from the Triple G Ranch. "Combat ostrich cubes?" Ayo cover art "Surely they're not grinding animals into food?" Is she vegetarian? Or maybe it's just the grinding-into-processed-meat part that disturbs her?

"I was overwhelmed by a vision" Oh no not now not again this is a Bad Time-- Well, at least they're deadbolted in.

"nothing about the tent suggested the harsh life of the Roman legion." Did Roman emperors lead the charge into battle or did they stay out of the fighting? I'm willing to bet that for Rome it depended on the emperor, but which was most common?

"a solid gold cornucopia." What fucking river god did they harass for this one?

"And you are perfect, I thought" Physically, maybe, but I'm pretty sure he likes to torture innocent souls as a pastime. I only simp for him in jest, but Apollo seems serious about it. With this awful of a precedent for his flings, one of his kids at camp must be the child of, like, a serial mass murderer or something. (Is that why Will is a year-rounder? We don't know what Naomi Solace does in her spare time...)

"Ask for a furlough?" FURLOUGH (n.): suspension or discharge of a worker or workers on account of economic conditions or shortage of work, especially when temporary

"He is so virtuous" Really? The guy waging war on every vaguely threatening piece of land around them for the entirety of his reign is virtuous?

"Who names their child Bruttia?" Poor girl. "Ostriches" Oh, the cover art. Here come the ostriches! <3 <3 <3

"But what did I care? I was a god." Oh just you wait, Apollo. The roles are going to be reversed.

"Look at the prices." It's a fast food place. How bad could it be? "$15,000 per serving." UM. ?????????? "isn't that a bit pricey for a meal?" YUHUH. "I was adventuring with someone as clueless as I was." Wait, you mean to tell me that he was understating it when he said "a bit pricey"? He genuinely doesn't know how expensive this is? Whatever, they already broke into the zoo and broke into the café. They shouldn't have a problem with stealing at this point.

"Percy Jackson could drive a car." Ah yes, Perseus Jackson's primary and most useful demigod skill: driving.

"a golden metallic coating." Ah, that explains it. The griffins have the appetite of Arion.

"'Let me use my super vision to look through this wall and check,' she said. 'Oh, wait.'" She sounds exactly like Leo when she says that.

[guqin-and-flute]

Episode 73: Koala Chlamydia Is A Problem [My Brothers, My Sister and Me Excerpt]

[MBMSAM AU] [First Installment] [Podfics!] [Ao3 Link]

[COVER ART BY THE FANTASTIC LITTLESMARTART]

Jin Zixuan: Do we want another question?

Qin Su: Sure, yeah, got one right here. 'When I was younger, I was really skinny and weak'--hey! Hey, now, negative body talk, much! That's super judgmental of yourself!

Mo Xuanyu: And of us people who are skinny and weak right now! [teasing] Right, Yao-gege?

Meng Yao: [calmly] I'm not affiliated with you.

[crosstalk] Mo Xuanyu: [cackles]

Qin Su: 'When I was a kid, I was really skinny and weak, so I made it my mission to get as jacked as possible so people would take me seriously. I put in a lot of hard work, changed my exercise routine and diet and it worked. But now, as an adult I'm a 6 foot 7 dude--'

Jin Zixuan: [incredulous] 6 foot 7 ?

Qin Su: Just a mountain of a man. '--6 foot 7 dude with serious muscle mass--'

[crosstalk] Jin Zixuan: [sotto voce] Good God .

Qin Su: '-- and a pretty intense resting face. I routinely make children cry just by existing and everyone shoots me nervous looks in the grocery store. It gets to me sometimes. I’m not a bad guy! I just look scary. What are some ways that I can make myself less intimidating?’

Mo Xuanyu: Huh.

Qin Su: I mean, let’s see...puppies are unintimidating. Can you devise a system where you carry a few around with you at all times? Maybe in some saddle bags, everywhere you go?

Mo Xuanyu: The movies, the gym, on dates… .

Jin Zixuan: Sure, until they start pissing down your legs. Then you’re not just unintimidating, you’re the guy no one wants to stand next to at the bus stop.

Meng Yao: I mean, it still does the job, doesn’t it?

Mo Xuanyu: You could get a butterfly tattoo, like, directly on your forehead.

Meng Yao: Okay, please explain to me your thought process on how exactly that would make anyone more approachable.

Qin Su: They still want to be able to navigate human society, A-Yu.

Mo Xuanyu: Ew, why? 

Jin Zixuan: Let’s see...what makes someone approachable….Who is the least intimidating of all of us?

Qin Su: [immediately] You.

Meng Yao: [affirming] Mm.

[crosstalk] Jin Zixuan: [incredulous] What?

[crosstalk] Mo Xuanyu: Oh yeah, you’re like...you’re like a poodle. Or a--

Jin Zixuan: [highly offended] Excuse me! I'm the oldest and definitely the tallest one here!

[crosstalk] Meng Yao: [ill concealed snort]

[crosstalk] Qin Su: [pityingly] Oh, da- ge .

[crosstalk] Mo Xuanyu: Or a golden retriever.

Qin Su: Please don't tell me you think that being tall translates into you actually being scary. You’re tallest by, like, 3 inches. At most, that’s just part of the equation of being scary.

Meng Yao: And the rest of Zixuan’s equation is just filled with collared polo shirts. Which absolutely tanks the intimidation ratio.

Mo Xuanyu: That doesn't tank yours, though.

Meng Yao: I wear button downs. It’s not the same. [Vaguely disgusted undertone] Collared polos.

Jin Zixuan: Excuse you, polos are weekend wear and there is nothing wrong-- I can be intimidating!

Qin Su: [doubtfully] Ehhhhh…

[crosstalk] Mo Xuanyu: [badly stifled snickers]

[crosstalk]Jin Zixuan: I can! Just because I’ve never had to intimidate you --

Qin Su: Let's just say; citation needed

Mo Xuanyu: Please, jiejie has you beat.

Jin Zixuan: [indignant] Wha--

[crosstalk] Qin Su: He's right, gege; an unopened jar of mayonnaise has you beat. And I'm no unopened jar of mayonnaise. 

Mo Xuanyu: That shit is opened .

Meng Yao: That’s a Tinder profile quote.

Qin Su: What? 'Spicier than mayo?'

Mo Xuanyu: [half singing, half chanting] ‘My mayo brings all the boys to the yard, and they’re like-- [normal voice] this is really underwhelming.’

Meng Yao: [musing] ‘Saltier than soy sauce, spicier than mayo….’

Qin Su: Why do we always come back to food? Are our Skype calls haunted by starving Victorian ghost children? Are we possessed?

Mo Xuanyu: [mournful, high pitched, bad British accent] ‘My name is Bartholemew and I’m starving. Please, spare some mayo.’

Meng Yao: It’s your own fault if none of you bother to eat before we record. You all had the schedule.

Mo Xuanyu: [crunches loudly near mic]

Meng Yao: [falsely happy] Hey, thanks! Thank you so much, A-Yu, love the level spike on that one. Editing mouth noises out of our podcast makes my day brighter.

Jin Zixuan: [under his breath] Just...unbelievable….You all….

Qin Su: [smiling] I think we broke him.

Meng Yao: [laughing] Zixuan is limping behind the conversation indignantly, brandishing his cane….

Mo Xuanyu: [sympathetically] Awww.

Jin Zixuan: I--! I am a high powered businessman! I am trained in martial arts and archery and swordsmanship --

Mo Xuanyu: [mouth full] Oh please, gege, you’re a pod caster.

Jin Zixuan: [forcefully] I am a CEO--

[crosstalk] Qin Su: [ignoring him] I think Yao-gege is somehow the most and least intimidating out of all of us at the same time, if we're all being completely honest with ourselves and our place in the world.

Mo Xuanyu: Aww, I thought I was at least a contender!

Qin Su: Honey, you're feral. There's a difference.

Mo Xuanyu: What does a kid have to do around here to be intimidating?

Meng Yao: Learn how to chew with your mouth closed, for one.

Jin Zixuan: [indignantly] A-Yao? Are you not going to deny this?

[Brief silence]

Meng Yao: [calmly] I don't think I'm scary.

Qin Su & Mo Xuanyu: [instant uproarious laughter]

Jin Zixuan: Oh, come on! He's like...a little koala bear or something! How is that scary!

Meng Yao: [offended] Excuse me--

[crosstalk] Mo Xuanyu: [still laughing] I’m gonna pee --

Meng Yao: -- koalas have smooth brains and eat poisonous leaves all day. Are you calling me a poisonous idiot bear?

Qin Su: [wheezes] Only in private.

Mo Xuanyu: [laughter trailing off] Wait, wait, hold on. Don’t all koalas have chlamydia or something?

Qin Su: [renewed laughter]

[crosstalk] Meng Yao: [startled laugh] What?

Mo Xuanyu: Chlamydia! I think that I read--!

[crosstalk] Jin Zixuan: Oh my god, I think I’ve actually heard that. The plague, the bubonic plague, isn’t it? Or that--Some sort of--that disease people used to get where bits of you fall off?

Qin Su: Beheadings?

Meng Yao: [voice strangled from laughter] Yes, A-Su, that ancient disease the French Revolution that all koalas have--

[crosstalk] Jin Zixuan: [snickering]

Mo Xuanyu: [loud and close to mic] LEPROSY .

[crosstalk] Qin Su: Ow--

[crosstalk] Jin Zixuan: Holy shit--

Mo Xuanyu: It’s leprosy and you’re thinking of armadillos, da-ge. 

Jin Zixuan: [muttering] Aren’t we all….

Qin Su: [solemnly]  Armadillos and guillotines. Every damn minute of every damn day.

Mo Xuanyu: And I googled it, I’m right; koala chlamydia is a problem.

Meng Yao: And we’ve just found the title of this episode.

Qin Su: If most koalas have chlamydia, I feel like they have other problems they have to deal with.

Mo Xuanyu: Those pesky, promiscuous koalas!

Qin Su: Get them some damn sex ed! Use those eucalyptus leaves for protection!

Meng Yao: [pleasantly] That’s just about the worst thing I’ve heard all day.

Mo Xuanyu: Eugh, that menthol, though. Like Vicks for your dicks!

Meng Yao: I hate it.

[crosstalk]Jin Zixuan: [pained] PSA: don’t do that. Ever.

Qin Su: The voice of experience?

Jin Zixuan: I don’t think you actually want an answer to that, meimei.

Meng Yao: You people make me hate learning and also knowing things.

Mo Xuanyu: Also I've been looking it up and mountain lions are the ones that can have the bubonic plague.

Meng Yao: Choose your fighter; chlamydia ridden koala, leprosy ridden armadillo, or mountain lion with the Black Death.

Qin Su: Well, at least the mountain lion could inflict some damage. Use it like a poison delivery system, like an anthrax letter to secretly infect people.

Meng Yao: [patient teacher tone] ‘A mountain lion is to an anthrax letter, like a koala is to a…?’

Qin Su: [mock frustration] Oh, man, I know this one….

Mo Xuanyu: 'I can't come into school today, I got attacked by a mountain lion.'

Qin Su: [acting concerned] 'Oh my God, are you okay? Are you gonna have scars?'

Mo Xuanyu: 'Worse. The Plague .'

Jin Zixuan:  Okay, glad we got our animal infections all sorted out--back to what we were talking about. So, riddle me this--

[crosstalk] Mo Xuanyu: [delighted, Riddlemancer voice] Rrrriddle Me Piss, kids--!

[crosstalk] Meng Yao & Qin Su: NO!

[crosstalk] Jin Zixuan: Oh my god --

Mo Xuanyu: [laughing] I don't actually have anything today--

[crosstalk] Meng Yao: A blessing .

Mo Xuanyu: --but I'll get you next time.

Jin Zixuan: No, I need to know, genuinely, this is not a bit-- why do you think A-Yao scarier than me?

Qin Su: I mean, what's not scary about a smooth brained bear full of toxins and chlamydia?

Meng Yao: [disgruntled] Uh huh.

Mo Xuanyu: Technically, they’re not bears, they're marsupials! And I think Yao-gege is more of an armadillo--hard on the outside--

[slight crosstalk] Qin Su: --And full of leprosy on the inside. 

Meng Yao: [further from mic, keyboard tapping] 'And to Mo Xuanyu...and Qin Su...I leave... absolutely nothing, except...this bag of dog shit and...spiders…..'

[crosstalk] Mo Xuanyu: [laughing]

[crosstalk] Qin Su: Awww, A-Yu, we're being written out of his will again!

Jin Zixuan: Listeners, am I wrong? Am I crazy? He’s the size of a toddler--

[slight crosstalk] Meng Yao: [still away from mic, keyboard tapping] ‘And to Jin Zixuan...I leave--’

Jin Zixuan: He looks like a sugar glider baby that got turned into a human man--

[slight crosstalk] Meng Yao: ‘This box...of useless...tetanus filled screws….’

Qin Su: Da-ge--

[crosstalk] Meng Yao: ‘--that i...encourage him to use…--’

[crosstalk] Mo Xuanyu: [snickering]

Meng Yao: ‘As acupuncture needles.’ There. Sent to the notary. Now, what were we talking about, again?

Qin Su: Da-ge, all those things might be true--

[crosstalk] Meng Yao: [flatly] Wow.

Qin Su: But here’s a test. What would you do to someone picking on A-Yu in school?

Jin Zixuan: [immediate, sounding businesslike and slightly aggressive] I would contact their parents and set up a meeting with the school officials and make it very clear that they are never to do that again.

Qin Su: [grinning] Okay. Yao-gege, what would you do to someone picking on A-Yu in school?

Meng Yao: [calmly] Absolutely nothing you could prove in a court of law.

Mo Xuanyu: [bursts out laughing]

[crosstalk] Qin Su: I mean--

[crosstalk] Jin Zixuan: Uhhhh--

Qin Su: You see? Also-- [quick sing-song voice] 🎵 This is a joke, for legal reasons, this is a joke 🎵 [normal voice] He’s got that--that--

[crosstalk] Mo Xuanyu: [lingering laughter] Yeah, it's that menace. Da-ge, you’re like--you’re like if a duckling--okay, you remember when I brought you to Hot Topic? You were like a duckling at a Death Metal concert.

Jin Zixuan: [defensively] The music was so loud--

[crosstalk] Meng Yao: [pityingly] Oh, Zixuan.

Qin Su: You're like if a golf course got turned into a human. 

Meng Yao You're what would happen if you gave mac and cheese a social security card and keys to a lamborghini.

Jin Zixuan: [unamused] Okay.

Mo Xuanyu: [laughing] You're the lightly salted almonds of people. 

Qin Su: You're like a wholesome Hallmark movie fucked the concept of the suburbs.

Jin Zixuan: [unamused] Sure. Sure.

Meng Yao: You emanate the peril of a box of lethargic kittens.

Jin Zixuan: Wow. My own family. This is coming from the physical manifestation of a My Chemical Romance song--

[crosstalk] Mo Xuanyu: [smug] You say that like it’s a bad thing.

Jin Zixuan: -- and the woman who cries at the Land Before Time every time she watches it. I think this is a case of glass houses, here. Let ye who are intimidating... 

Qin Su: Oh, so we’re not roasting Yao-gege back?

Meng Yao: Not sure how me being compared to a STD riddled marsupial for about 5 minutes straight escaped your notice, A-Su, but alright. 

Jin Zixuan: I feel that you are all being...heinously short sighted, here. Are you seriously trying to tell me that A-Yu is scarier than me, a full grown man?

Meng Yao: I would certainly be more warranted in my concern about him stabbing me than I would about you.

Mo Xuanyu: Oh my God, gege, that was like 5 years ago and I already said I was sorry--

[crosstalk] Jin Zixuan: [loudly] What--

[crosstalk] Qin Su: Did we actually help this person? I mean--

Mo Xuanyu: We always help, jiejie.

[crosstalk] Jin Zixuan: Hold on--

Qin Su: We learned a lot about exactly how disturbing the animal kingdom is, but….

[crosstalk] Jin Zixuan: No, go back--

[slight crosstalk] Meng Yao: Dress like a middle aged accountant, share minion memes on Facebook, and buy your son a puppy so you have an excuse to talk to the dog and not people. There you go. Done.

Jin Zixuan: No, rewind--Xuanyu, you stabbed our brother? 

[brief silence]

Qin Su: [brightly] Well, that's going to do it for us today, folks--!

Jin Zixuan: A-Yu!

[crosstalk] Mo Xuanyu: It was only a little!

Jin Zixuan: How can you stab someone a little ?! 

[crosstalk] Qin Su: Thank you so much for listening in this week--

Jin Zixuan: With what ? Why?!

Mo Xuanyu: It honestly wasn’t that bad, he made it sound like--

[crosstalk] Jin Zixuan: That's not an answer --

[crosstalk] Meng Yao: [begins laughing]

Jin Zixuan: A-Yao--!

[crosstalk] Meng Yao: [still laughing]

Qin Su: [brightly]  We hope you enjoyed our enlightening romp, here! We want to thank Sister Sledge for the use of the song We Are Family. A-Yu, how about that last Yahoo?

[crosstalk] Meng Yao: [farther from mic, clearly grinning] Ohhh, boy. 

Mo Xuanyu: Okay, okay--anonymous Yahoo Answers user asks….[exaggerated, desperate voice] ‘I can’t afford a freezer. Where do I put my deer meat?’

[Outro music begins quietly]

Qin Su: [laughs] I’m Qin Su.

Jin Zixuan: [sighs, disgruntled] I’m Jin Zixuan.

Meng Yao: [grinning] I’m Meng Yao.

Mo Xuanyu: [sheepish] I’m Mo Xuanyu.

Qin Su: And this has been My Brothers, My Sister, And Me! Thank you to everyone, see you next week and remember; send your trash dad straight to jail!

[notchesandbullets]

Wherever You Go, I Will Follow (Boxer! Metal Arm! Bakugou x Reader) Underground!AU

Art credit: @/helloclonion on Instagram

Warnings: violence, drinking (everyone is of age), hints of ptsd and depression, mentions of cloning norms, angst but fluffy ending.

Synopsis: Bakugou doesn’t like to talk about what happened to his left arm. Years of fighting underground had made him harder than nails. Society was messed up. Children weren’t born, they were made and any who aren’t adopted are raised in mass orphanages. But you’re special. And you’ve chosen the light even though you’ve seen the darkness. Who else to get through to his heart other than someone like you?

Words: 7.8k

The lights blind you momentarily as they flashed on. The humidity in such a crowded space packed with people was making your skin crawl but it was worth it for the greatly anticipated show.

An underground arena that had this much hype was rare since most fighters didn’t make it past their 20s due to injuries so severe from boxing that it cost them their lives.

There were zero qualified doctors here in the society riddled with old factories that didn't exist anymore and sleazy underground cities where nothing could grow anymore due to the pollution. It had fallen to ruin and only a select handful that could heal like they claimed to. 

Due to that little insignificant fact, that meant the expected lifespan of everyone down here wasn’t more than 30 years of age.

Of course, it varied from section to section, but there was enough pattern to know that there wasn’t long to live once you got to your teens.

Therefore, everyone lived fast and hard down here, trying to experience as much as they could before it was their time to go.

And while you couldn’t say that you blamed them, that wasn’t how you wanted to live. You wanted to fight back against the norm and make a difference that would change this world.

Which is why you were so interested in this particular fighter.

Bakugou Katsuki. 

A reformed individual with a criminal record after a looting with his crew went sideways. He was stronger than most with an attitude and ego bigger than the city itself.

He was renowned to be one of the baddest in the underground and had a personality as difficult as a cloned Siberian tiger.

You sighed and rolled your eyes. You didn’t know why Mic couldn’t come scout today instead of you, you hated how jam packed Bakugou’s fights got, which is why you always steered clear of them.

Well, that and because you weren’t exactly partial to his famed temper.

Then, the glint of metal had you on the edge of your seat, eyes sparkling with curiosity as you caught a better look the second time around as he stomped into the ring. 

Was that… a metal arm?

It looked like something straight out of Marvel’s Winter Soldier from back in the day. Scarily so. 

You faintly recalled that his opponent’s name was Shindou, supposedly the underground’s upcoming rising star to the top. His undefeated reputation preceded him and he certainly was easy on the eyes.

So why did you find your gaze drawn to the arrogant boxer with a cocky smirk on his face across from the guy that was cuter than him?

Metal arm flexing, sweat dripped down his brow, his crimson eyes narrowed in concentration and tinged with a hint of malice as his much larger rival took a swing at him to kick off the round.

Bakugou blocked it head on, retaliating with a force that sent him spiraling towards the cage. His wrapped hands were crusted with blood and he hastily brushed the dirtied, spiky hair that fell into his eyes out of his face, a ravenous hunger coming through as he bounced on the balls of his feet. 

“Is that all you fucking got, extra?!” He screamed in Shindou’s face and you actually had to cover your ears at the sheer volume that carried through the stadium, egging him on.

Your mouth dried as Bakugou caught him across the jaw the second he flew at him, knocking out his opponent in one go, calling the match in under thirty seconds flat. 

Holy shit, he’s good. You thought to yourself, thoroughly impressed, barely able to hear yourself over the crowd’s roar as Bakugou punched his fist in the air victoriously. 

His technique seemed rough to the naked eye but taking a closer look, his form and tactics were flawless. His overall strategy could use a little work, since he seemed particularly keen on using brute strength, but he was really good at turning the tables on his opponent in an instant.

And really good at making sure that they couldn’t get up again after he threw them down.

You had your share of good fighters. Not like that, you dirty minded creature, you were a scout for your father’s gym. 

Aizawa wasn’t a revered name by any means, but that didn’t mean he lacked skill. He was the one who could take down more people than any other pro could, but he absolutely hated media attention. Hence why almost no one knew of his abilities, other than a select few of his colleagues and fellow fighters. 

And you of course. You were so incredibly proud of your him.

He had recently been scouting new talent after taking in several kids: Shinsou, Todoroki and Midoriya. 

The female boxers in his ring were a literal force to be reckoned with. You weren’t sure you’d ever seen someone pack a punch with as much power as Uraraka when she got serious. And no one could beat Yaoyorozu when they stepped in the same arena as her.

In the underground, it was normal to come across those that talked big, but rarely have you ever seen them deliver.

This guy had some raw talent. Perfect. 

Looks like Uncle Hizashi’s instinct was right.

After the fights ended and the exciting night came to a close, you wormed your way through the rows of people lining up to claim their bets that they had placed at the beginning of the night. You were at least smart enough not to get sucked into all that. 

A cage match had too many variables. The odds could change in a split second, no matter how good or bad the fighter was. And since there were no rules, anybody could win. 

You found the boxer in the designated fighters’ alcove security had put there especially for them to wind down. Here, they would be hidden away from the crowd and only the fighters knew about this spot aside from those that protected it.

“You’re good.”

Bakugou snorted, not looking up at the sound of your voice as he continued to unwrap the tape from his hands. “Of course I am, dumbass.”

You cocked an eyebrow at his arrogant attitude but after a fight like that, you guessed the pride was well deserved. After all, the guy he went up against was undefeated. No one had beat him and after Shindou earned his reputation of tearing the limbs off of the fighters he faced, no one wanted to step into the ring with him after that.

But Bakugou didn’t back away, even going so far as to taunt this guy, boldly proclaiming that he’d beat him.

Normally, you would brush off those guys as no good but he made good on what he said he would do, so you were at least a little bit curious.

A little.

You still didn’t like his attitude though. 

Tossing the bloodied wraps in his bag, he ignored you as you just stood there like a lost puppy. People like you didn’t belong in the underground.

Soft.

Bakugou scowled and huffed scornfully, throwing his bandages down with a little more force than necessary. 

Patching up wasn’t too bad this time around. He was lucky the round ended when it did though, that fucking extra had too much boisterous energy and willpower that had carried him this far. Still, it was better than fighting bare-knuckled. 

There was a time when wraps or gloves weren’t allowed. People liked the blood and violence, and craved someone to come out victorious by taking the other’s life.

Fucking sickos if anyone asked him. 

Bakugou slung his gym bag over his shoulder and shouldered his way past you since you had yet to say a word after that initial, begrudging praise. He couldn’t care less if you hung around but he wasn’t going to stick around for the damn media to catch whiff of this fight.

Once it was leaked that he had won, they would take a percentage of his cut and he would have to go without food for another week just to pay rent on that shitty place he stayed at. 

It wasn’t much but it was better than the streets.

“Wait.” You called out, inwardly chastising yourself for being so pathetic. 

You weren’t star-struck or nothing, so why were you feeling so tongue-tied?

Taking a deep breath when he snapped his head around to glare at you in annoyance for stopping him, you rolled your eyes when he tapped his foot impatiently. 

“You gonna take all fucking night, extra?” Bakugou barked at you, clearly not playing around. 

Your eyes widened as the metal plates on his left arm clinked together as he raised up his fist threateningly.

“I’ve got places to go and shit to do.” He grumbled. “So if you’re just going to stand there like a fucking—”

“Do you want to be a part of Aizawa’s gym?” You blurted out before he could get too carried away on his rant.

Bakugou arched an eyebrow in surprise. He hadn’t been expecting that. It was rare that the scruffy old man took on recruits.

Huffing, he stuffed his hands in his pockets and scrutinized you. “Who the hell are you?”

You cringed at how rough his voice laced with suspicion came out but you supposed you could understand. 

Collectors were far too common these days, usually rich scouts from corporations that searched for talented fighters to partake in their financial war when it turned bloody.

You weren’t really sure how it was possible for those airheads to train delinquents into soldiers for their military to fight in the wars that they created, but all you were really concerned about was dodging those scouts.

They weren’t people to trifle with.

Bakugou’s suspicions were misplaced this time around though and you jutted out your hip, planting your hand on it as you regarded him disinterestedly. 

There was only one thing that you could say to get him to trust you.

“He’s my dad.” You said quietly.

The boxer nearly choked on air and you flashed him a cheeky grin when he whipped his head around to glare at you.

“Fuck, seriously?”

You nodded and a heavy exhale whooshed out of his lungs in one breath.

Bakugou cocked up an eyebrow, seeing you in a completely different light. “Holy shit.”

You resisted the urge to dash away under his intrigue but you flinched when his eyes landed on you again.

“Sorry.” Bakugou muttered, averting his eyes. “Just never seen one before.”

You scratched the back of your neck, a habit you picked up from your introverted father whenever he was put in uncomfortable situations. “Yeah…”

Children weren’t born anymore, it was illegal. Partly because expenses couldn’t be covered if people got pregnant and partly because the kids would have nowhere to go, but mostly because the government wanted a controlled population. 

By controlling the gene pool, they could create whoever and whomever they chose, placing them in different status’ around the world to fill in the gaps and create the perfect society.

Except, it really wasn’t all that perfect.

You had been a product of your mom and dad’s unconditional love for each other, something else that was also forbidden, especially in the underground cities where disease ran rampant and claimed numerous innocent lives everyday. 

Your mother wasn’t dead but she did have to leave soon after you were born to protect you from the government officials that would come if she stayed.

Your dad was heartbroken but once every three years, the three of you were reunited under the bridge where seagulls cried and the waves crashed upon the shore.

Once upon a time.

Bakugou crossed his arms over his chest, his bicep bulging and you were willing to wager that he specifically got those measurements for his metal arm tailored to those specifications just so his huge muscles were distractingly the same size. 

He was still not entirely convinced you were who you said you were. He knew that you had to at least be a bastard’s biological child, no one was bold enough or fucking stupid to say that much out loud, but he still wasn’t sure that the old man was your dad.

Not bothering to be discreet as he eyed you up and down, he motioned for you to give him a little more information.

“Aizawa, huh?” Bakugou drawled. “You don’t fucking look like a brat that belongs to him.”

Clearing your throat, you smirked. Now you were the one tapping your foot impatiently. “Thanks, I’m told I have my mother’s eyes.”

He glared at your sarcasm but you didn’t care.

Craning your neck to the side to get a better look at that beautiful arm of his, you pouted when he ducked out of range.

“Prove that he’s your dad.” He demanded and you feigned innocence before shooting him a grin when he rolled his eyes irritably. 

Crossing your arms over your chest, you responded cheekily, “Coffee and cats are his two favorite things in the world, and he only tolerates Uncle Hizashi on a whim when he’s wasted.”

Bakugou barked out laughing and you smiled at the boisterous sound escaping from his lungs. 

“So,” You kicked your feet, scuffing the dirt as you sidled over to him. “You in or what?”

His left arm glinted in the dim, flickering light of the alcove and he tucked in his chin the slightest bit to stare down at you, the corner of his mouth quirked up.

“Hell yeah.”

Exactly one year later, you were weaving in between the clustered bodies in the dingy underground bar you were at to make your way to the obnoxious and rowdy group in the back, all while balancing a tray of beers in one hand.

They had just arrived a few minutes ago, eagerly chatting with your dad, who was their trainer, even though he looked like he’d rather be anywhere else but here.

Your skirt flared around your ankles as you sashayed through the crowd dancing on the dancefloor, a couple strands of hair sticking to your forehead from the exertion of how many tables you waited on already.

“First round’s here!!” You announced, beaming brightly at the packed group of 15.

Shoji, Mineta, and a few others couldn’t make it due to conflicting schedules. But it was alright, they would come again another time. Besides, you were quite sure that a special someone couldn’t care less if they made it or not for this particular day. 

“YES!!” Kaminari shouted escatically, throwing his hands up in the air.

A chorus of “thank you’s” came from the girls as Ashido eagerly reached for her first drink of the night, downing half the bottle in one go. You predicted she was going to be out like a light within the hour if she kept that pace up. 

“Don’t get shitfaced, Kaminari.” Jirou twirled a strand of her dark hair cockily as she teasingly held the last one out of arm’s reach. “Lightweight.”

“Jirou!!” Kaminari protested while the table burst into laughter.

The edgy fighter eventually gave into him, shaking her head in disapproval when he proceeded to chug all of it straight like it was some kind of shot. A knowing smirk appeared on her face when he choked.

“Told you so.” She rubbed in his face as Asui leaned into her side.

“Shut up!!” Kaminari shouted between violent bouts of coughing. It only got worse when Ashido slapped his back, already drunk.

But the slight pink dusted across his cheeks clued you in on what he was really doing.

You shook your head. If he was any more dense, you would’ve smacked him upside the head. Maybe then he would’ve come to his senses and that he didn’t need to do all these things to impress her. 

Jirou never hated anything more than someone who felt fake to her.

As you distributed the rest of the drinks to a clueless Todoroki, a way too eager Midoriya, and handed water to Koda, who thanked you shyly with a small nod.

You smiled at him, then left to the bar that your uncle was managing to get the order for the next table while Iida shouted for everyone to make sure they drank responsibly so that they didn’t cause any problems for you. 

But it was largely ignored in favor of raising their beers in a toast for the birthday boy.

Bakugou scowled in the corner that he was shoved into, wondering why he of all people had to be dragged to this shitty celebration for a birthday he couldn’t care less about. It was too loud here and it was making his head hurt. The only consolation he got was that you were a rare sight, wearing a dress that he had bought for you a week ago.

The seamstress who had made it for him specifically had charged him an incredible amount of money for it, since fabric of any kind that wasn’t made from recycled garbage liners was nearly impossible to come by.

But being a part of the ring of fighters that made up Aizawa’s Warriors gave him credibility and enabled him to make even more money than he did before, so it wasn’t a problem.

That much. 

After rent on his rundown place and scrounging for food, he had saved up the rest for weeks before he was able to afford the pale blue satin dress edged with delicate white lace around the sleeves that cascaded off your shoulders. The tightly-fitted bodice that wrapped around your waist was a simple leather corset, accentuating those curves of yours more than should be legally allowed.

You looked absolutely delicious. 

You continued to sweep around the tavern, oblivious to the looks you were getting. You had a bit of expertise in waitressing due to the lack of income your dad was able to provide so you had to convince him that you really didn’t mind helping out with the staff tonight.

The bar, owned by your Uncle Hizashi, a retired fighter but not retired in spirit, had all the profits go to the orphanages the city couldn’t keep track of or be bothered to pay for; which enabled those kids who were abandoned to have a roof over their heads in all the uncertainty.

The state of those houses holding those homeless children were horrendous. 

But your dad and uncle were taking steps to create something new that would provide them with some relief and a new family.

Kirishima clapped the ash-blond on the shoulder, jarring him out of his annoyance. “Come on, Bakugou, loosen up!!” 

He clicked his tongue and scowled at the red-haired guy’s energy. No one would think that this fun-loving guy and people person would be such a terrifying fighter in the arena.

Kirishima frowned when he noticed his lack of enthusiasm. “C’mon man, I know this isn’t your scene but Y/N worked really hard on this.”

Bakugou’s drink nearly spilled as he set it down abruptly. He wasn’t expecting that. Aizawa had told him that his friends had arranged this.

Picking up on his confusion, Kirishima then proceeded to tell him about how you gathered everybody to ask if they’d be willing to attend the party and how all of them enthusiastically said yes. You had gotten special permission from your Uncle Hizashi to borrow the VIP section of his bar and convinced your father to go easy on their training today. 

Really, the grumpy man with the metal arm should be thanking you since you were the reason all of them weren’t sore to death with barely enough energy to keep their heads up. 

Kirishima was going to blame it on Aizawa. He was tough on them. Too tough. No one should be that determined to make their students push past their limits but everyone knew it came from him caring more than anyone else. 

They were all like his adopted children, in a weird, skewed way. But, no one was going to argue against it. None of them had their biological parents in the picture. 

Besides, Aizawa had enough room for them all to crash in his home. An abandoned mansion overrun with thick green vines but had no working electricity whatsoever looked like something straight out of one of those old horror movies back in the 3000s. 

Bakugou scoffed. Like hell should he care about whether or not you planned this. He didn’t ask you to do any of this, you decided to do it all on your own. 

“Whatever.” He grumbled, snatching his bottle before stalking away from his shocked friends left in the dust. 

Todoroki raised an eyebrow as Kirishima sighed and Midoriya’s expression saddened when he saw him leave. They were supposed to be celebrating…

And yet, all three of them knew why today was so hard for the explosive boxer.

You frowned as you noticed the slumped figure retreating to the back of the establishment. Finishing up serving the drinks for the table you were waiting on, you briefly made a detour to your uncle and asked if it was alright that you take a break.

Ever the doting uncle who loved to spoil you rotten, Mic’s eyes softened understandingly when he noticed who you were staring after and granted you permission.

“Just don’t tell your dad I let you off the hook.” He bargained with an exaggerated wink and you giggled.

“I won’t.” You reassured, setting down the tray and squeezing his hand in thanks.

Then, you followed Bakugou. 

He disappeared around the corner and as soon as you tailed him, you came to a stop in front of a heavy door. Your brow furrowed, wondering why he would be coming here. 

Step after familiar step you took until you eventually came to a standstill on the roof.

Behind you, the heavy door slammed close but it sounded different than usual. Something metal crashed into it, denting it by the sounds of it, and it wasn’t until you turned around that you found Bakugou’s vermilion eyes boring into yours.

The wind was stronger up here and you pinned your arms down to your side, knowing full well from experience how mortifying it would be if your skirt decided to flip up right now.

“What the fuck are you doing up here?” He snapped angrily.

To his surprise, you didn’t look the least bit fazed by his outburst.

“I live here.” You responded nonchalantly, undeterred by his characteristic abrasiveness. 

If Bakugou was startled at that revelation, he didn’t show it. If anything, he looked even more irked, though you didn’t know why. He didn’t have any reason to suspect you of lying but in this world, it was safer to be skeptical than sorry.

However, you hadn’t given him one reason to doubt you the entire year you’ve known him. Not one.

So if anything, he trusted you more than the majority of the rats in his rundown city and just as much as his small circle of extras. 

Picking your way past him carefully since the roof didn’t have a safety rail, you made your way towards the curtained tent hiding behind the generator. Pushing the tattered material back, you showed him the bedroll and small table set up with a few bottles of water, a case of beer and a worn book. 

Bakugou’s mouth dropped open but he recovered quickly so by the time you turned back around, he had the same indifferent, kind of irritated look on his face.

Then, he was a bit at a loss of what to do. It wasn’t often he was faced with the dilemma of being wrong so blatantly. Should he apologize? Even when he didn’t say anything but the thought that you were crazy ran through his head? Should he apologize for something you weren’t even aware of?

Nah, fuck that.

You gingerly took a seat at the edge of the roof, leaning back on your hands as your legs dangled. Patting the spot next to you invitingly, a soft smile curved on the corners of your mouth as he grumbled but came over anyway. He plopped down on your right side and you took a moment to study him. 

He looked exhausted, spirit whittled down to the bone until there was nothing left for him to salvage. His eyes were bloodshot and the beer bottle in his hand probably wasn’t doing any favors for him.

Glancing at him out of the corner of your eyes, you asked worriedly, “You okay?”

He huffed in annoyance at your question.

“Fine.” He ground out through clenched teeth and you shut your mouth.

Bakugou clearly wasn’t looking to talk but you yearned to help. You wanted to be there for him. 

Kirishima hadn’t told you much, only that the incident that took Bakugou’s arm happened a long time ago and wasn’t something he liked to relive. 

You didn’t push it. You had your own share of traumatic experiences in this god-forsaken place and hated nothing more than being forced to talk about by a well meaning friend. So you understood it well. 

Instead of pushing the topic, you sat with him in silence. You didn’t ask why he walked away from the party or why it looked like he was drowning himself in his sorrows to forget something, you just offered him a quiet place to sit, with the company of yours truly.

Fate was flawed. You knew that ever since you were born.

The warped sense of justice that the city had was suffocating. People were put away in prison only to be left to rot with no chance of redemption. Those that made it out were casted out to the underground with no hope to see the light. 

Combatants-for-hire wasn’t an unusual job to take on in the ruined city. All Might knew you too had been mixed up in some shit. 

But it was what made you strong in the end.

“I’m here.” Was all you said softly, staring out at the city lights that were especially illuminating tonight.

Thanks to the heavy pollution, the stars could no longer be seen with the naked eye so this was the closest thing you could get to those twinkling lights raised high in the sky. 

“It’s funny.”

You tilted your head towards him as he spoke and was a bit surprised to find him looking directly back at you with an expression you couldn’t quite decipher. 

His eyes were a little dazed, probably from the alcohol, but he looked a little more grounded than he did a minute ago.

Bakugou chuckled but it was short and grated against your ears for a second.

It was mocking.

He tipped his head back, downing the rest of his drink before harshly wiping his mouth with the back of his hand while he crushed the bottle in his metal fist.

Leaning over, he let go and let the shiny crystals plummet to the ground below. 

You smiled faintly, watching how they sparkled. It looked so pretty. 

Sitting back down, Bakugou mimicked your posture and huffed out a dry laugh. “Out of all the shitty extras in the world, you would be the only one to fucking get through to me.”

Your puzzlement must’ve shown through his alcohol-induced haze because the next thing you knew was that he teetered to the side as he lost control of his equilibrium and careened into you.

Out of reflex, you caught him and gasped at the temperature difference as his cold metal arm pressed against you. You could feel it through the thin fabric of your dress and latched onto it when he moved to pull away.

“Sorry.” Bakugou slurred curtly as he gathered his bearings and tried to detangle you from him. 

But his coordination wasn’t the best and he was growing more and more frustrated when you wouldn’t let go.

He snarled. “Let go.”

You shook your head firmly. “You could fall.”

Oh yeah. You two were on the roof. 

This was a bad idea. 

He didn’t know how he ended up here with you but he needed to leave. Immediately. 

Bakugou stumbled to his feet, somehow managing to lose his way halfway to the door and face-planted in something that smelled faintly of lavender. Snuggling into the soft thing that was rubbing against his face, his brow furrowed in annoyance as you giggled at him.

“You have to take me out on a date first if you want that.” You teased lightly and he immediately sat up as he realized he had crashed in your bed.

He scrambled upright, nearly falling over again in his haste. “Fuck, I’m—”

“It’s alright, Katsuki.” You reassured nonchalantly, coming down to sit beside him, but not close enough where your legs were touching.

Bakugou’s mouth twitched at the sound of his first name but his eyes softened the barest bit and he didn’t fight against it. 

Before he met you, he hated his name. It was a reminder that the place he came from was from a lab, cooked up like some sort of sick science experiment to fulfill a role in society that was chosen by some prick who had money.

It was a reminder that he wasn’t real. That he was expendable to all those bastards that ran the world.

But when you used it, when you spoke it with such tentative curiosity and genuine concern, he didn’t feel so unimportant anymore.

“Fuck.” Bakugou breathed as you leaned closer to examine his face.

Your forehead creased in worry and you raised a hand to his head to check his temperature to make sure he wasn’t running a fever. “Are you feeling alright?”

Squeaking when he suddenly grabbed your hand, you gasped in shock when he tugged you towards him. 

You crashed into his chest and your cheeks flushed hotly as his chiseled form honed from years of training molded against your front. 

His arm wrapped around your shoulders and it took a second to realize that his metal arm was planted firmly on the ground, keeping the two of you steady. 

But when you reached out your fingers to brush against it, he ripped away from you.

You pulled back immediately, apology weighing in your gaze as your eyes flicked away from him. “I’m sorry, I—”

“It’s fucking hideous.”

You balked at his tenor. “W-What?!”

Bakugou looked away from you, his gaze fixed on the ground behind you as he rested his chin on top of your head, stubbornly refusing to look you in the eye as you breathed steadily against the base of his neck.

You were warm. Delicate.

Precious.

He didn’t expect someone like you to understand.

His vermilion eyes were shadowed by the ghosts of his past that continued to haunt him and he sighed heavily, curling his arm around you tighter. He didn’t want to let you go just let but he didn’t know why you weren’t pushing him away. 

Your soft voice rang out. “Katsuki, what do you mean? It’s not hideous at all.”

He clicked his tongue but otherwise didn’t verbalize his disagreement. 

“How could someone like you possibly understand this shit?” He spat but you didn’t recoil like he was half hoping you would.

At least then he would have an excuse to leave, under the guise that he had upset you. But you didn’t do any of that. 

Too fucking precious. Always saw the good in everything just like that shitty nerd. 

You closed your eyes in defeat. “No… I suppose I can’t.”

You didn’t quite understand him. 

The bite in his tone sounded like you had hit too close to home, and yet, his thumb was absentmindedly running over the satin of your dress that he had bought you, your side heating up under his chest and warmth bloomed from your heart.

And yet, he wasn’t pushing you away.

Leaning down, you rested your forehead against his shoulder, your heart beating too loud for your own ears. “You don’t have to say anything, but I know what it feels like to be an outcast too.”

Bakugou eyed you cautiously, wondering if this was some sort of trick because he was drunk and definitely not as attentive as normally but your tone was open.

Honest. 

“Yeah, maybe you do.” He scoffed, scorning you under his breath. “Maybe you don’t. It doesn’t fucking matter to me.”

“Maybe it doesn’t.” You whispered, tracing patterns on his chest as your head lolled to the side to gaze at him with complete vulnerability. “But just know that you aren’t alone.”

Bakugou whipped his head around as you stared at him. Didn’t you get it already? He didn’t want to fucking taint you with all of this shit that went on down here.

He didn’t want to tell you that he had to settle tinkering with whatever scrap metal he could find in the junkyard just to make his left arm operational again, didn’t want to tell you that the government had offered him a real replacement prosthetic but at the cost of becoming one of their combatants fighting in a war he never chose and as a result, he was casted to the side when something went wrong.

He had lost everything. 

The second he had been tossed out on the street, he had come crawling back to Kiko, a spunky little girl a part of the UA orphanage in the east, one of the ones that Mic funneled money towards to fund their food and supply them with fresh water every three days.

The girl, no more than ten at the time, with her dirty blonde pigtails sticking out on either side of her lopsided head, had been born with a unique appearance.

The officials called it a defect, as though they were talking about an object of mass production.

Fucking disgusting.

It never seemed to bother the girl though, and she often claimed that she was tougher than all those men in fancy suits. Bakugou liked her spirit already.

Kiko had had this habit of tracing her stubby little fingers all over the scars from his fights whenever he came to visit and it had been her idea to forgo a realistic prosthetic from the corporation that was looking to hire him and just go out, full badass, just like Bucky in the Winter Soldier.

It was her favorite movie but Bakugou claimed he had absolutely no idea where she learned that kind of language from. 

He had chuckled and patted her on the head at the time, swearing to hell and back that there was no fucking way he was going to build a metal arm. He would scare the kids if he did that, not to mention, full-grown adults.

But Kiko simply bounded over to him and beamed up at him like nothing was wrong in the world. It was fucking contagious, begging for him to at least consider it, selling the point of how cool it would look.

“You would be a superhero, Bakugou!!” She cheered, raising her hands up high, demanding for him to lift her up even though she wasn’t five anymore. “And you could save everybody, just like you want to!!”

He never got a chance to show her the finished product. Would she have liked it? Would she run around, screaming in his shitty apartment as she played with it when he detached it for cleaning? Would she try to hit him over the head with it when she thought he wasn’t looking like the cheeky brat he knew that she was?

Bakugou could hear her squeals of excitement so vividly some nights that he woke up from his terror of that night, soaked in cold sweat from a memory of the girl he had failed to save.

Defeated and overwhelmed by his circumstances after being rejected by the very people who sought him out because of his talent, he had ventured to the orphanage that night and on a whim, demanded her to live with him. He would take care of her, protect her, teach her things that she couldn’t learn from anyone else.

The widest smile he had ever seen stretched across Kiko’s face and she accepted his demands with eyes tearing up with joy. 

He vowed to protect her. 

He failed. 

He had an unsettled score with the government officials he had upset on his way out from the lab that day they told him he had been scraped from the program. 

The enraged fighter went on a rampage, tearing down anything in his path and clearing out the experiment rooms, offering freedom and a second chance to anyone willing and brave enough to take it. 

And as a result, many took him up on his offer and fled that place with white walls and food too bland to actually be considered nutritious.

There was no doubt about it. He pissed them off the day he saved the others.  

They had come for her and taken her last year on his birthday as revenge for freeing those they were experimenting on. He found a crumpled, poorly wrapped, newspaper covered package lost in the clutter of his apartment when he got home.

The creaking old door that kept out winter drafts had caved in, signifying that it had broken in with considerable force, and Kiko was gone.

That crushed gift hidden under the stairwell was the only thing that remained of her.

Inside, there was a small metal pin in the shape of an explosion. For his personality. Corny, but the little girl was simple-minded and liked the sentiment she found in things that she repurposed. 

Bakugou always thought it was fucking weird but he hadn’t taken it off ever since that day. 

The metal plates of his arm glided, clinking together softly as the polished steel lifted to trace your jaw, the pin visible on the inside of his wrist.

To keep her close to him always.

He had stormed their stronghold but by the time he got there, they were gone. Everything.

Every vial, all the equipment, every single one of the samples and officials had disappeared into thin air. 

Bakugou had tried everything to track Kiko down, paying off the highest crime organizations to get more eyes out on the street but nothing worked. She was gone.

And she wasn’t ever going to come back.

You were silent when he finished telling you his depressing life story, sure you were bored to death but when he started to get up, he found that he couldn’t get very far with you draped over his body like this.

Bakugou had a fleeting thought that you had fallen asleep while he had been lamenting and rehashing every depressing detail from his past but he noticed the stuttering rise and fall of your back.

Well, at least you weren’t asleep, but now he didn’t know how to feel when he had told you all of that and you had yet to say anything.

“I know you don’t want pity.” You whispered into his shoulder.

He raised an eyebrow but waited for you to continue.

“I know there’s nothing that I can say that would make the pain go away or bring Kiko back,” You said softly. “But I’m here for you.”

Bakugou pressed his cheek against your hair and inhaled your sweet scent, closing his eyes as an unseen weight lifted from off of his shoulders. 

“Thank you.” He murmured quietly with great difficulty. 

You smiled slightly, glad that you were able to provide him with a little bit of comfort. “Anytime.”

The two of you stayed entwined for a few more moments, time stretching as he held onto you, soaking up your soothing presence while you relaxed against his hold.

“Katsuki?” You called quietly when he still didn’t let go after five more minutes.

Tightening his arm around you, he frowned when you struggled in his grip. 

“Stop fucking moving.” He demanded and you ceased fighting in favor of pulling back to flick him on the forehead. “Oi, did you just fucking flick me?!”

“Yes.” You replied bluntly, snickering when he rolled his eyes. 

There he was.

Bakugou protested hotly when you pushed down his arms to untangle from him but you shushed him with a giggle, leaning back to open the box of beer by your bed, grabbing two bottles and fishing for something from underneath your pillow

In the underground city where liquor was the only thing that was plentiful, you would take what you could get. 

Bakugou caught the beer that you threw at him in midair with an expression a mix between annoyance that you tossed it at his face and gratitude that you knew how he needed another drink after that tale. 

“What the fuck is that for?” He scoffed, pointing to the roll of gauze in your hand. “You get a papercut or some shit?”

You rolled your eyes in disbelief, failing to notice how his eyes raked over you to look for any kind of injury you might be hiding from him, and held it up to him. “No, but it looks like you did.”

He almost spilled his beer that he just popped the lid off of, mouth furrowing in a deep-seated frown when he followed your gaze and landed on the cuts on his knuckles from the fight that happened earlier that night.

“Fuck.” He cursed, setting down the beer hard to wipe up the blood.

He hadn’t even known when he got hurt. 

But he didn’t even get started on tending to it when your gentle hands wrapped around his and you took over for him. 

“Here.” You murmured, pouring some water onto a clean cloth and dabbing carefully at his cuts. “Let me.”

“You’re fucking weird.” Bakugou grumbled but allowed you to take over. 

Your touch was so much lighter than the rough pads of his fingers. He was always too impatient whenever he had to patch himself up, jerking at the bandages to get them to lay flat when they wouldn’t cooperate.

It was a fucking pain to stop the bleeding when his shitty fingers fumbled with it. It was a trip to hell and back every single time he had to attend to wounds he got from boxing.

Your nose scrunched up in concentration as you finished cleaning the area before securely wrapping the soft cotton around his knuckles.

“There.” You declared in satisfaction, sitting back on your knees.

Admiring your handiwork with an unreadable expression, it was a second before Bakugou nodded begrudgingly with thanks.

“It’s not complete shit.” 

You giggled. “Thanks.”

He picked back up his drink and took a swig.

Offering up yours, you hid your surprise when he actually recognized the gesture and clinked his glass against yours.

The distinct hum from the music in the establishment below filtered up to the roof, filling the silence and the occasional echo of steel grating against each other. The low lights were pleasant and the ambiance was soothing as you two drank away the night.

You shivered, catching a chill as the night air blew by, but before you could reach for your blanket, Bakugou was tucking you in his side. 

“Get over here, dumbass.” He mumbled, turning his face away so that you wouldn’t see his blush. “You’re gonna get fucking sick.”

You noticed how he still kept your metal arm away from you. That wound was still too fresh and somehow you had a feeling that no matter how much time would pass, things would never quite be the same again.

Playing with the hem of your dress, you smiled softly. “But I wanted to wear it today, it was a special occasion.”

Special occasion his ass. It was fucking freezing out here and all you were wearing was that summer dress. His brow knitted as you puffed out your cheeks, breath visible, and he wasn’t so sure he wanted to leave you out here when it was so cold out.

“I’m sorry.” Bakugou apologized quietly as you lost interest in toying with the pale blue satin and folded your hands neatly in your lap.

At your questioning gaze, he suppressed the urge to roll his eyes but heat crept up his neck.

“For storming out on the celebration you planned, dumbass.” He grumbled, flicking you on the forehead in a similar fashion hat you had done earlier.

Whining, you held onto your forehead as you made an exaggeration of pain. He rolled his eyes at your antics and you giggled, snuggling further into his side.

“You’re warm.” You mused.

Bakugou scowled, cheeks still pink from the embarrassment tingling through his whole body. “Oi, are you fucking ignoring m—”

“Of course not.” You retorted, pinching his side in retaliation for the flick he gave you before your voice dropped a little. “It’s just— There isn’t anything you need to apologize for. I understand.”

Those words, they were so simple and yet, warmth bloomed in his chest from how they fell from your lips. 

And he could see that you were truly genuine.

He had rejected your kindness earlier when Kirishima had told him you had planned out all of this for him. He had never quite been accustomed to generously that lacked a price or some kind of condition.

Then again, he had never met someone quite like you. 

As you rested against his shoulder, Bakugou took the empty beer bottle from you and placed it on the other side of him so that you didn’t break it and cut yourself when you woke up from your little nap.

He gazed out into the city that had caused him so much misery and wondered how it was even possible for someone like you to exist.

Birthdays, he still hated them, but maybe, just maybe, he could start to heal.

It would start by telling that old man that you fucking needed a new place to sleep that wasn’t the goddamn roof.

It was a good thing he knew just the place you could go.

Brushing back the hair out of your eyes, he allowed a small smile to form on his face as you breathed softly, evenly and he smirked against the top of your head as a thought crossed his mind. And even though he knew you couldn’t hear him, he still murmured quietly.

“How do you feel about seagulls and sand, princess?”

[villainess-supremacy]

headcanons of the four lords celebrating pride for the first time with their s/o

notes: you told them that it's pride month and asked if they would like to celebrate with you. none of them have ever celebrated pride before. I made the lords and s/o queer because I can

type: sfw, gender and sexuality of the s/o are not specified

tw/cw: slight mention of alcohol, blood, lgbtphobes

requests: open

Alcina Dimitrescu

her daughters have mentioned pride month before, but she's not sure what it entails exactly

you gladly explain it to her in detail!

she loves the idea since she is fruity herself loves celebrating for such a wonderful reason

you being part of it makes it so much better

and a whole month?? she's in

she would love to go to pride events with you, but she's afraid other mortals will be scared of her due to her height so you decide to just have your own celebrations in the castle

you love watching movies together so you show her all of your favorite queer movies and shows

you bought a pride flag to hang up below the balcony in the entrance hall

she loves the smile on your face when you proudly look up at it

"maybe we should extend pride to be all year if it makes you this happy, my love."

she already regularly gives you presents, but during the entirety of pride month she additionally leaves little gifts for you in your shared bedroom, the kitchen and all of your favorite places in the castle

and that daily

if there is any queer owned shop you like she will literally buy their entire stock

if there are any charities you mention she will gladly donate in your name and give you the certificate as a surprise

she realizes that something about June just makes her want you even more in general, in the private chambers, whichever is up to you wink wink

as a surprise she decides to make a special wine without blood of course named after you and your sexuality/gender if you use labels, but in fancy Latin words

she loves to drink, but of course watches over you so you don't have too much

mortals don't process it as well as she does...

if you come across any lgbtphobes and are noticeably saddened she will be there to distract you right away

everyone who dares to make her love sad will feel her wrath! be ignored since they're not worth her time

but if she finds out that anyone in the village doesn't support you or anyone who is part of the lgbt community, they will be forced asked to vacate their home

she will pamper you and shower you with her love even more

you once jokingly say "be gay do crime and turn maidens into wine" and she makes it her new motto but she's serious about it

Donna Beneviento

she knows a couple things about pride since she reads a lot, but you're so excited to tell her about it she simply lets you talk

you'd love to go to pride events with her but she's too shy and tends to have anxiety attacks when around too many strangers so she sends Angie instead

afterwards she will gladly listen to both of you tell her all about it!

she has her own collection of books that have queer characters in them which she never told anyone about before you and will read all of them with you if you like

there will be regular dates picnics while Angie takes care of the house

she's a cottage core sapphic and pride month brings out that side of her more

she has made dolls for you before, but this time she makes one that looks just like you

it has a pride flag embroidered on the top above the heart

of course you love it!

you're so glad that she accepts every part of you

she will make one of herself with a similar outfit and a small pride flag as well so she can set them up in couple settings

ever since she found out about online shopping it has opened up a whole new world for her so she will definitely get both of you matching outfits or jewelry from an lgbt owned shop

you love doing arts and crafts together so you suggest making bracelets for each other, either color coded or with letters

Donna's house has a flagpole she hasn't used in decades, but for you she'd gladly call for maintenance if it turns out it's unusable after all these years to hang a pride flag

anything to make you happy!

if there are any lgbtphobes bothering you or your friends, she will be right there to comfort you and won't hesitate to send Angie and her other dolls she can control to deal with them

even if you tell her that it's fine and she should just ignore them she's great at distracting you so you wouldn't notice until it's done oops-

since she has no portable device that can access music streaming platforms, but knows the password to your phone she decides to steal it for a bit and makes you the softest playlist that you since then often play for comfort

Salvatore Moreau

he has spent decades almost completely separated from humans so he has no idea what pride month means, but instantly agrees to it because he loves you so much

he will agree to anything that makes you happy

you both sit down and he looks at you with puppy eyes while you tell him all about pride

he loves the idea of celebrating a group of people you both are a part of

he thinks you deserve your own month to be cherished and celebrated!

he may be a little awkward with expressing his feelings, but he sure knows how to prepare a romantic dinner

with mother miranda needing all of the lords a lot to assist her, he usually barely has time to prep food, but for pride month he does his best to cook for you every single day

part of his usual outfit is a cape to cover his back and a type of crown made out of bones and rope

he's not the best with his hands, but he makes a crown for you that resembles his anyway because you're his queen/king/majesty

you love it so much!

you want to give him something in return so you go to the village and visit the shop you know is lgbt owned and get him a custom necklace with a fish pendant that has your initials engraved

he literally bursts out in tears because he is so touched :c

when you started dating he initially was scared of what you would think about his giant fish form, but you turned out to be really impressed and love it and since you'd be tiny compared to him he suggests taking you on an adventure of sorts

meaning you sit on his back while he swims around the lake which is like a roller coaster ride but more wet

he leads you to a hut you never visited before and he shows you treasures he has collected when he was still mortal

he starts making a list of things you could do and stays up all night to complete it but ends up with so many activities and ideas to celebrate pride you'll have to extend pride month... by possibly years....

if he hears about anyone being mean to you he'll just encase them into the blobs of gooey mass he can make but you don't need to know about that, pride month or not

he has always wanted to propose to you so he might be able to work up the courage to hint at it by the end of June

Karl Heisenberg

of course he knows about pride month!

he knows more than you might think

he isn't considered the rebel child for no reason

in the past he has done some celebration for himself, but it was never anything too special

he thinks it's no fun alone and his experiments servants aren't much fun

sure he could program them, but unless it's to attack something they're not really... party animals

since he has you now he'll gladly give it another go!

he'd love to go to pride events with you, especially if you go to drag shows

he didn't know about them before you made him go to one

something about them fascinates him so much, he's more excited than you

he's not really into cooking, but nothing will stop him from making you a nice breakfast in bed

you always love watching him work on his machines because he likes to take off his shirt when he's hot seeing him do what he loves makes you happy

so he decides to gift you some robots to assist you with your everyday endeavors

it's not really necessary but of course you appreciate the gesture

it means more time to spend with him after all

he once sees you with a keychain that has a pride flag on it so he paints it on one of his machines that he uses more often

mostly he will end the day by having a drink and dancing with you

it's a celebration, so celebrate he will

if you're more in the mood for chilling on the couch he won't say no to watching some queer shows or movies

after working on his machines he has a way of just melting into your arms

if he sees you smile at certain scenes in movies he might attempt to do the same with you

of course you notice, but you definitely can't complain especially if you smile on purpose at the spicier scenes

anyone who will come between you and happily celebrating pride will be visited by Sturm banned from his factory and getting anywhere near you

he likes to name his subjects so he will start naming them after all of your favorite queer historical figures, activists and famous people in general

any smile he can get out of you is a win

a win for the gays you might say

when he was younger he may have had a phase of spraying graffiti around the village so you're not surprised when he goes around his factory and writes "be gay do crime" on several of his machines and doors

[sarahreesbrennan]

You wrote on twitter that you were too young to be published and did fool things you later regretted. I'm curious about those regrets - is there anything you'd be willing to elaborate on?

I do want to clarify I meant I personally was probably too young, and I wasn't a babe in arms when I was published--I was 24, which is an adult! S.E. Hinton was 18 when her first book was published and she arguably invented young adult fiction. Jennifer Lynn Barnes was a teenager when her first book was published and she's always been a genius rock star. Some people are married and having kids and doing great at their jobs at 24, but some people are in college, or learning the ropes of their jobs and full-time work life in general and messing up because it still feels unfamiliar. Most of us, me included, will be making messes until we die, though we can hope for better messes.

My regrets aren't super secret--I would've conducted myself differently online and offline. One thing I've said before: I wouldn't link up my real name and my fanfic identity the way I did back when. That means having your juvenilia out there and judged, and yourself judged in a very particular way! It is hard to sit in the doctor's office and ask him for written proof you have cancer, because the internet will accuse you of faking it. (Yes that did happen. That poor man's face was like, 'Girl, why do you not live your life right.') As I've said, I have an assistant-with-antis who filters my social media and email so I don't have to come upon hostile stuff, and I do wonder if there are ways to inspire less hostility.

But to be clear regarding that example, I think fandom is awesome in many ways, and it's valuable to say you wrote fanfiction, just don't get too specific. One of my most cherished facts about a (fancy, brilliant, very bestselling) writer friend is that she wrote Sonic the Hedgehog fanfiction once. Many of my writer friends used to or still do write it! (Fanfic in general... I'm not outing a bunch of writers as avid Sonic fans...) And being open about my identity did mean I had some beautiful supportive readers from the jump, who were sweet to me and made friends with each other (Marmalade fish shoutout). I love that people connect over fiction, and that they connected over mine. My advice to others is to do it like Oscar winner Chloe Zhao, and be like 'yes I write it, yes the call is coming from inside the building, yes creative engaged people engage creatively in many ways, no you'll never know my online name!' And that's mostly how it's done these days--there are masses of fanfiction writers in TV, in movies, working as editors and agents in publishing, and who are writers, because people who are passionate about creativity are passionate about creativity in many ways. A decade ago and nobody was sure how it was going to go: I do think it went well generally, if uneasily for test balloons like me.

Overall, as regards regrets, if you're alive, you're making mistakes, and if you're growing, you're learning from them. Often the more you care, the more mistakes you make. There are some things only life experience can teach you, and I've seen people who came into writing with experience from being, for instance, lawyers which they were able to use in many ways, and there were times I wished I'd acquired experience or lost naivety in a job that wasn't my dream job. Sometimes I really didn't know what was going on, and later I was like 'Ohhh! Oh Lord.' I would say a few things I wish I'd known: How to draw boundaries like circles of salt that others couldn't cross. The personal and the professional are going to blur, but it's still important to try and differentiate them. How to pick your battles: recognise the unwinnable, find the most likely strategy for victory with the winnable ones. Know that people won't like you just because you're making life more convenient for them, so don't do it for that reason. OMG abide by contracts and make sure the contracts cover every eventuality. Learn the art of standing your ground calmly. (One day, I'll get it.)

But getting published at any age is complicated: I have one friend who was sure she was going to die after she got her publishing contract because it was her dream accomplished, and what was left? I have more life experience in my 30s, but I also had most of those years totally slain by cancer: my writing went off a cliff long before I was diagnosed, and then I couldn't write, and since then I've been scrambling. If I'd been published first at 30 I might have handled myself in style, but there definitely wouldn't have been two trilogies before the long pause. One very lovely, very talented lady who was first published in the same year I was died shortly after. You don't know what's coming: Margaret Mitchell was hit by a speeding drunk driver and we'll never know if rumours she planned to write a sequel to Gone with the Wind are true. The people whose first books were out in 2020 had a tough time, and I would've freaked out if I'd been in their position and am glad I didn't have a non-tie-in novel out--it was very strange to have two tie-ins out that year as it was! People were reading books in 2020, but it was harder for new books to get on their radar.

I didn't write the tweet to alarm anyone, or say there was a magical time it was best to be published at. Lots of amazing writers aren't published, are published feeling they're too young, are published feeling they're too old. I think my tweet was really to say, there's no precise right time, and no way to execute your dreams exactly right. I do look back on stuff and think, oh lord, me at 30 might have handled THAT better. I hope that I'll look back at me now from 50 and go, I'd crush the stuff that crushed her!

Are there things I would change, sure. But I probably would make different mistakes if it had all happened differently for me. Humans constantly torment ourselves imagining the magic way we could've got everything right, a task exactly nobody has accomplished. I've never lived a perfect life or written a perfect book, and I don't know anyone else who has. I'm really glad I was published, and really proud of all my books. If you've never done something you've regretted, how much have you done? Keep going.

[romanianwilkinson]

MONSTER CAMP QUOTES STARTERS

A collection of sentence starters from the game Monster Camp. Feel free to change words and pronouns as desired. CONTENT WARNING(S) FOR: Monster Prom/Monster Camp spoilers, suggestive, cursing, crude content

“ I just have it here because [NAME] insisted that I offer it, as a marketing stunt. ”

“ And lastly, super-horny-type players no longer get a charm buff against tsundere types! ”

“ War machines don’t turn me on or anything! ”

“ I don’t wanna be weird, but do you mind if I climb inside of you and play around with your main turret? ”

“ A wine to DIE for, you say? Well, darling, don’t threaten me with a good time! ”

“ This one just says ‘ hmu with that reaper dick, daddy ’. ”

“ You on your phone, as always! Probably making blogposts on your Tik Tok page. ”

“ Yeah, you really don’t want to witness a repeat of the last time [NAME]’s diehard fans went without a selfie for fifteen minutes. My tailbone still hasn’t completely healed. ”

“ Now hold still, this will only hurt for a moment --- ”

“ Yay! You found a shenanigan! ”

“ My poems all have two or three emotions in them, AT LEAST. ”

“ CRYING IS OBVIOUSLY A COMPETITION TO SEE WHO CAN SQUEEZE THE MOST WATER OUT OF THEIR EYES! ”

“ No way, really? The way to WIN at poetry is by LOSING at life? ”

“ I dunno, maybe fall in love with someone who’s married and develop an opioid addiction? ”

“ HELL YEAH, SPEEDRUN! ”

“ It’s morbid, but... kind of romantic? ”

“ GASP! Google+? Are you kidding me? The psychopaths behind that global tragedy are here?! ”

“ Prison has changed me, [NAME]. Would you like to trade me some cigarettes in exchange for my fundamental dignity? ”

“ Undermining the laws of reality, subverting life and death, that’s the kind of stuff my followers expect. But CHEATING? No way. ”

“ Though we are imprisoned in chalk jail, we are free in our hearts. But our hearts are also imprisoned in chalk jail. ”

“ Um, no, I am NOT groveling. I am posing a dignified query to [NAME] that just so happens to be performed on my hands and knees. ”

“ I didn’t know you condoned playing the friend card to get free labor, [NAME]. ”

“ Ah, but saving the world doesn’t put avocado toast on the table. We indie seancers and necromancers need to pay our rent too, you know. ”

“ And as you know, I am illustriously Internet-famous, so if you could shower me with adoration and give me the pizza that would be fabulous. ”

“ Do you wanna fuck the pizza or not? ”

“ Are you ready to go swimming? I must admit, darling, I’ve always wondered what you would look like while... wet.”

“ Did you turn this date into an orgy without consulting me? ”

“ Gosh, I love it when you insult me! Please do it more! ”

“ Now who wants to make a baby? ”

“ What if she puts a curse on me that makes me magically forget the location of the clitoris?! ”

“ Hey, don’t knock wacky decisions that endanger us all! That’s how I always manage to stay a step ahead of my nemeses! ”

“ Oh gods, I’ve killed so many monsters, just for being monsters. This is making me question my entire moral foundation. I NEED MORE THERAPY. ”

“ I’ve said it once, and I’ll say it again: fish give better pedicures than people! ”

“ You’re not tricking me into parenting a stupid egg. I’ve never fucked even ONE chicken! The egg is not my son! ”

“ You came to visit me at camp, Daddy! ”

“ Don’t be ridiculous, I know your brand of horny, [NAME], and this ain’t it. ”

“ I thought we both agreed to be nothing but vague and haughtily aloof about our past dalliances. ”

“ Point EAST, compass! EAAAAAAAAST! You dumb fuckboot!!!! POINT! EAST! ”

“ One time I was told a soul’s worst fear was bugs and I inadvertantly sent The Beatles. It happens to the best of us... And the worst of us. ”

“ SOMEDAY I SHALL DEFEAT YOUR FIVE STRANGE FEET! ”

“ Why do you keep suppressing your monster half? Embrace your true nature! ”

“ Wow. I didn't think this was possible, but I guess I was... wrong? About social media? Oh dear God, is this how grandparents feel?!?! Am I a GRANDPARENT?! ”

“ I don’t know! I was relying on my friends to cover up my bold and idiotic statement! ”

“ ... I ate the oars. ”

“ PSYCHE. The ocean can eat my ass. ”

“ So pucker up, [NAME]! I'm about to declare mouth war on your FACE! ”

“ YOU FOOLISHLY FOOLISH FOOL! You're showing our inexperience! YOUR HONOR, THE ENTIRE LEGAL TEAM PLEADS THE FIFTH! ”

“ That's right. I'm talking about a classic Transylvania Hot Tub, a Seth Brundle, and a REVERSE Reverse Romanian Wilkinson. ”

“ Sorry, I was in your ribcage seeing if I could use it to cut strips of crepe paper into confetti and then I got lost in your kidneys. ”

“ There's nothing sexier than a doomed romance between a dating sim player and a hot fictional character. ”

“ That's right! I secretly replaced one of you with a bear while no one was looking, to teach you a valuable lesson about the art of disguise! ”

“ Enchant my armor. I’m going into the lake. ”

“ For VIOLENCE REASONS! ” 

“ This stupid lake monster called me short the other day, but I was too low level to crush him like he deserved. ”

“ That dumb wet dinkhole won't know what hit him! But it will be me! I will hit him! ”

“ No, YOU'RE a fuckshark! Also, what does that even mean?! ”

“ You seriously didn't notice the enormous needles those interns jabbed into your veins as soon as [NAME] got here? “

“ It all makes sense! The Camp Dome is just an elaborate ploy to distract us from the giant mouth that eats campers! “

“ This is the BEST show I've ever seen in my life, which is now at an end! “

“ Am I high, or did he just tell us EXACTLY how to foil his evil scheme? “

“ What, like a few severed heads and visions of my grandpa screaming in horrendous pain are gonna freak me out? Where I'm from, you can buy that stuff at IKEA. “

“ ERROR: Due to the sixth mass extinction, the slaying of leprechauns is inadvisable. “

“ Then why do I have half-finished scarves, decoupage, pot-holders, friendship bracelets, and a taxidermied rabbit in my skeleton? “

“ The wang elemental. ”

“ I also have an uncle who works at Nintendo as a copy machine! “

“ What flavor of ice cream AM I?! Now I gotta know. HA! You know what I should be? 'Pistachio.' Because my outside is HARD, but I'm full of NUT. “

“ I mean, life is a bit like... this sandwich! No, stay with me, I'm going somewhere good with this. “

“ A survival situation without any sexy fun time isn't worth surviving in the first place. “

“ Rut the RUCK?! ”

“ The ' ambulance of the heart ' is just a regular ambulance! Ambulances treat all organs! ”

“ Yeah, that's why I made sure that my so-called ' emotional armor ' was also ' actual armor '. “

“ And being yourself is the key to living your dreams, which is the key to self actualization, which is the key to being really good at sex! “

“ So hot I'd buy that even without free shipping. 10/10, call me some time. “

“ Hi, quick question: does it count as kidnapping if I'm abducting you so you can help me do a thing you already agreed to help with? “

“ I could be wrong, but are you just upset because you DON'T have a skeleton that's inside your body? “

“ I'm gonna get SO FUCKING RELAXED MY HEAD WILL EXPLODE! “

“ Whoah, whoa, hold up. You're fucking my grandma? “

“ No, [NAME], that is a popcorn bag full of more dynamite. Put it down. “

“ I hear that at least 70% of people on Patreon aren't murderers! “

“ If you want cash, just rob banks like the rest of us! “

“ Did it work? Do you feel any less horny? ”

“ FUCK YEAH, LET'S PUNCH THAT MOUTH IN ITS MOUTH! “

“ Yes... incidentally, we are no longer allowed to enter Italy. “

“ Is anyone else turned on right now? ”

“ Yes! Yes! I know what you're feeling! I suddenly see how marrying a corpse isn't okay! “

“ JUST LET ME IMPROVE YOUR SELF ESTEEM, MORTAL! “

“ Look, choose whatever you want, but I'm not responsible for whatever you put in your mouth. ”

[gouged-out-eyes]

From The Stars, Part  8

Summary: Kira moved out of town for isolation and peace and quiet. But that quickly gets turned on its head when a spaceship crash lands not far from her house and a strange creature decides she's its new queen. Luck had never been on Kira's side, but things are going to get a lot worse for her as she's forced into this new role and everything her new alien subject thinks it entails.

Warnings: Bodily fluids, hatching eggs, post-labor, talk of birth and mothering, some hinted at violence at the end. 

Authors Note: So this has been up on my Ao3 for ages, I’ve just been too lazy to post it here. For this story specifically, I suggest following on Ao3 cause it’s updated there faster than it is here. There’s a link on my masterlist. Also, if anyone wants to know what I modeled the babies after, I modeled them after the neomorph concept art that Colin Shulver did for Alien: Covenant. A close idea can be found here. 

MASTERLIST

Kira fades in and out for a while. She vaguely recognizes something moving her, the skin of her legs sticking together as she’s carried closer to her eggs. She still has the eighth in her arms, cradling it protectively. She registers their warmth, a solid mass against her back, hissing in her ear. She remembers pain, weakness. Her head heavy, eyes not staying open as she fades in and out.

She’s sure she’s dying. That has to be it. She had lost too much blood and now she was dying. The eggs had caused her to hemorrhage, and she was bleeding out on the floor of her barn. She waits for the bright light, the pearly gates, or even the lake of fire considering the past couple months, but none of that comes. She’s stuck in an inky darkness, her body slowly knitting itself back together again without her knowledge.

It’s light outside when Kira wakes.

She can see the light of the sun in the space near the window where the black substance hadn’t covered it completely. She feels exhausted, her body aching. She’s sticky, covered in something. Something in her arms is moving, shifting around. There’s something pressed against her back, solid and tough. She tries to move, her skin pulling as she attempts to stretch her legs. Something hisses in her ear, a clawed hand pressing against the floor in front of her. Things slowly begin to come back to her. She’d given birth to the eggs, and she had been sure she was dying. But here she was, however long after, alive and breathing.

Something nudges against the side of her head, making her groan at the movement. She slowly moves her upper body, her limbs unsticking from her torso. She’s still naked, but her skin is covered in some sort of almost resin-like substance. It wasn’t all that different from what was covering the inside of the barn. The eighth egg was still in her arms, still smaller than the others. Something inside of it was moving though, she could feel it bumping against the sides.

Kira slowly presses her body up and into a sitting position. The other seven eggs are arranged close to her, moving slightly as well as her babies move around inside. She watches as one of them cracks, lines spidering through the thick outer shell. She sits up on her knees, watching the shell crack and move, something pushing at it from the inside. Her alien leans over her, watching his spawn work its way out of its egg.

It finally makes its way out with a cry, shrill and high. Kira looks at the creature, something inside her stirring as she looks at it. It’s small, no longer than her forearm. It’s pale, almost white. Its head is oblong like its father, but shorter, ending at a sharp point instead of the rounded curve. It stares up at her with big black eyes, its face almost human like. Its mouth opens wider than any human jaw could, revealing sharp, razor-like teeth. It has a small nose in between its wide eyes and mouth, its body built more like its father’s, lean and delicate looking but with a hard exoskeleton. A tail whips behind it, smooth unlike its father’s.

Kira reaches out a hand, a five-fingered clawed hand reaching out towards her. The other eggs are cracking, the feeling swelling in Kira’s chest as she touches her baby’s hand with a finger.

This was her child.

These were her children.

Her babies.

She watches with her alien as the others claw their way out of their eggs, looking very similar to their oldest sibling, near replicas. The feeling inside Kira builds as she looks at each one, touching each one of them. They’re sticky from the inside of their eggs, but their skin is strangely smooth, almost like human skin.

The eighth egg is the last to crack, her last child struggling to fight its way out. She reaches forward to help it, but a clawed hand wraps around her arm, yanking it back. She’s held against her alien’s chest, forced to watch her child struggle to leave its egg. She feels her heart clench in her chest, wanting desperately to help it, but she can’t.

Finally, it makes its way through, this one smaller than the others, its limbs slightly too long compared to its body, not quite as evenly proportioned as its siblings. The runt of the litter. But despite this, she loves it. It lets out a weak cry, trying to get its legs under it properly. Her alien’s head brushes her shoulder as he watches, still holding her back.

Eventually her smallest baby gets its feet under it, unsteady slightly, but standing. Kira’s alien releases her, crawling over to their babies. They let out high-pitched cries, reaching towards his face as he leans down towards them. Kira watches, emotions bubbling in her chest as she watches her babies and their father. Her alien hisses at them quietly, their hands touching his face, tails whipping back and forth as they get acquainted with him.

After a few moments they all turn to look at her, Kira’s eyes going wide as they all rush at her, clambering over each other to get into her lap. She’s helpless as the eight tiny bodies climb onto her, gripping at her skin with clawed fingers. She quickly numbs herself to the pain, nothing more than insect bites as she holds her babies in her arms. She doesn’t care that she’s still naked and covered in dried fluids and sticky resin. These were her babies. Her children.

Nothing was going to stop her from holding them.

***********

Kira sits in the bottom of the shower, letting hot water run over her. She’s tired, her body still aching from forcing out eight large eggs. She can’t fathom how she’d managed to not only carry eight eggs seemingly to term and birth them when humans weren’t supposed to be able to do that. The amount of blood she had lost had to be more than a human could withstand, but yet, here she was, scrubbing said blood from her thighs.

When she had pictured becoming a mother before this wasn’t what she had pictured. Birthing alien-spawn in her barn and then feeding them ground beef within hours of their hatching wasn’t exactly what she had been prepared for. But she can’t bring herself to complain. She can’t bring herself to find it strange. Those were her alien-spawn. They carried some of her DNA, since they weren’t exact replicas of their father. Somehow they had developed partly from her and partly from him to become what they hatched as.

It didn’t matter to her what they were, though. She loved them. She would do anything for them. Anything.

There’s a sharp pain in her head before she gets the feeling of being hungry. No, it’s not her that’s hungry, she realizes. It’s her babies.

She climbs out of the shower, wrapping herself in a robe. She tries not to stare too long in the mirror. She’s pale and there are bags under her eyes. She looks like she’s been through hell. Like she’d been deathly ill. It’s good. She can use that to firm up her story.

She makes her way down to the kitchen, her own stomach growling. She looks through the fridge, the milk and raw meat she had subsisted on for a month suddenly unappetizing. She’d have to do some shopping, it appeared.

After foraging through the stacks of meat, she finds some bread, deciding on some toast. Just as she’s pulling out the jelly there’s a knock on her door. She looks down, realizing she’s still in her robe, but she can’t bring herself to care. The feeling in her mind is still thrumming, crying out for food. She pushes it aside as she goes to the door, seeing two familiar agents standing on her doorstep.

“Ms. Matthews.” One of them says. She can’t for the life of her bring up their names in her memory.

“Are you alright? You look...” The other doesn’t finish his sentence, his unspoken words implying enough.

“I’ve been sick.” Kira says, wrapping her arms around herself.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” The first agent says. “We hate to bother you, but we just wanted to check on you and see if anything had happened since we last spoke.”

Kira tilts her head. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, you know, anything strange? Unexplainable?”

Kira shakes her head. “No, not that I can think of.”

“Your neighbors called to report some strange sounds that were coming from this property a few days ago. The local police sent an officer to investigate, but he never returned. His car is parked half a mile down the road. He knocked, but there was no answer.”

She nods. “I was probably asleep. I’ve been taking some heavy duty medicines. Knocks me out real good.”

The second agent nods, and she can tell he doesn’t quite believe her. “Right. Well, we have a warrant to search the house, if you don’t mind.”

Kira shrugs, taking a step back, letting them in. “Please, go right ahead.”

Kira stands in the living room while the agents look through her house. All the while the cries of hunger are getting more and more insistent, making her wince slightly. She wants to help them, but she doesn’t know how. But then it hits her.

“The house is empty.” The first agent says, coming back to the living room.

The second agent is standing by the back door, looking out at the yard. “The barn looks different.”

Kira steps into the dining room. “Yes, I was doing some renovations before I got sick. You’re more than welcome to go have a look if you want.”

Like she said. She would do anything.

Part 9