#/and the textures keeps getting wrong on four's house

[song-linked-from-nine-verses]

/so i was thinking of drawing Four's house in Minish Cap to look like the Never Meant house

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

hi baby!! dont worry!! it was about reader getting so stressed and annoyed while building a gingerbread house that they throw it in the garbage because its going all wrong and carmy finds it hilarious lol then he builds one for her hehe<3 love u

Perfectionist.

Your boyfriend being a professional chef has its perks - especially when it comes to gingerbread houses.

pairing - carmen berzatto x female reader warnings - cursing word count - under 1k!! short and sweet author's note - just a little dose of carmy at christmas for you. thanks baby angel for sending this request in (twice!!) <3

masterlist. inbox.

"Fuck this."

Carmy hears your raised voice and immediately comes running, coming to a halt in the doorway of the kitchen.

"You good, baby?"

"No."

The frown on your face is amusing him to no end, fighting to keep his smile from breaking out. He doesn't want to minimise your feelings, but you're cutest when you're mad.

Carmy takes in the scene in front of him, surveying carefully. There's chunks of gingerbread scattered across the table, icing dripping from the tablecloth. Your kitchen looks like a candy store exploded - sweets in red, green and blue littered over every surface. You're caked in frosting, hair falling into your eyes as you take deep breaths to try to keep your anger at bay.

"I knew this wouldn't be easy, but fuck me, Carmy... I'm on the brink of a breakdown here."

He makes his way over, grinning like an idiot. It's not often he gets to help you with things - you're fiercely independent, determined to get stuff done all by yourself. He likes teaching you, getting to feel like he's easing your worries a little.

"You want my help?"

"I said I'd do it," you huff, on the verge of stamping your feet and pushing the table over.

"It won't kill you to ask for what you need, baby."

You roll your eyes, bottom lip caught between your teeth. It's difficult for you to admit defeat, but you might rip your hair out if your gingerbread collapses one more time.

"Can you help me, Carm?" you whisper.

"What was that, honey? Say it again?"

You sigh in exasperation, slumping back into your chair.

"Can you help me, Carmen? Please?"

He beams at you like the cat that got the cream, making his way over to sit next to you at the table.

"Lets start again, hmm?"

"Good idea."

You pick up the remnants of your gingerbread house and throw them so forcefully, the trash can almost tips over. Carmy laughs, wrapping his arms around you from behind.

"I think we've finally found the one thing you're not good at, honey. It's a Christmas miracle."

You can't help but chuckle, leaning your head back to rest against his shoulder. He presses a kiss or four into your neck, nosing at the spot under your ear.

"Okay, Mr Michelin Star. Show me what you got."

You bake, first, Carmy explaining how to get the perfect texture you need for structural soundness. He even gets out a ruler, measuring the rolled out dough so the sides will be even.

He kisses you lazily while your gingerbread is in the oven. You're propped up on the counter as he stands between your legs, arms thrown around his shoulders. He tastes like cinnamon and spice, groaning when you lick the sugar straight from his tongue.

When it's cooled, you begin your assembly, sitting back while Carmy trims and remeasures. He draws out a template with a pencil and cuts accordingly, ensuring each piece has a straight edge. You watch in awe as he works, so careful, so attentive. You're fighting not to jump his bones at any given moment.

It's time to build, and Carmy has the perfect plan. He's made a thickened sugar syrup that acts as a glue, hardening when it dries and keeping everything together. His tongue darts out to wet his lips as he concentrates, determined not to mess this up for you.

He steps back, then, to let you decorate. You clearly have a vision, your picturesque idea of what you wanted your original creation to look like. Carmy makes you multiple bags of icing in different colours, and melts down candies so you can make windows and doors. He opens packets of chocolates, and carves into them with a knife to make little trees for the yard.

Hours later, when you're both covered in powdered sugar and melted chocolate, you step back to admire your masterpiece.

"Holy shit, Carm."

"We did good, huh?"

"Is there like, a business in this? Can we do this for a living?"

He laughs, the sound vibrating through you from where his chest his pressed to your back. He's got you tightly in his arms, swaying gently to the soft music that plays from the radio.

"What were you saying about finding the one thing I wasn't good at, Berzatto? Hmm?"

He spins you, pressing his forehead into yours.

"I take it back. I take it all back, baby. You're good at everything."

"Especially gingerbread houses."

"Especially gingerbread houses."

You lean up to kiss him, wiping some frosting off his cheek with your thumb.

"Thanks for not making me feel like an idiot."

"I would never. Life is a learning curve, baby, You taught me that."

"I love you," you whisper. "And just so you know, we're never eating that. It's going to have to be display only."

He laughs, full chested and whole hearted, moving his hands to cradle your face.

"I love you too, baker extraordinaire. We don't need to eat it, anyway. We've got all this candy to get through."

You reach behind him to pick up a chocolate, tossing it into your mouth.

"It isn't as sweet as you," you wink.

A blush rises up his cheeks as he rolls his eyes, pulling you in closer.

"Merry Christmas, baby."

"Merry Christmas, Carmen."

[pretty-boy-eddie]

Trans Mtf! Steve Headcanons

Because I love her<33

-Okay so her egg cracked kinda late (me too) but she ALWAYS loved being called Stevie and associates it with friends since it was mostly close friends who would call her it (Nancy began the trend cause I say so)

- I don't think her egg officially cracked until season two, possibly when he was helping Dustin get ready for the dance.

-I imagine Dustin saying something like "You have a routine like a girl" or something similar and Steve just

-She doesn't say anything and when she gets home that night she goes to the make up drawer her mom keeps (even though she's never around) and hesitantly puts on some lipstick to try it out

-She doesn't like the texture (matte lipstick is hell on chapped lips) but she enjoys to look. She always looked more like her mom but how she can see it and her mind emphasizes it with glee.

-She doesn't put a name to it or anything but she knows enough and she keeps it close. She explore more in the safety of her empty house and by time the summer hits she has her small victories.

-She wears a tinted chaptstick and gloss to work, a few stroke of a brown mascara wand and sometimes-if she dares- a touch of eyeshadow on her outer corners. Her nails aren't painted but a coat of clear polish is enough to make her fingertips feel heavier, feel longer and cared for. She even cuts her cuticles.

-Its not enough but she's happy with what she has.

-Robin isn't fun at first- the two don't get along until the Russians and when Robin confesses in the bathroom- says she doesn't like boys but instead likes girls Stevie feels the need to spout it out.

-"I'm not a boy. " She'd whisper between giggles about Tommy Tompson, interrupted by the kids before she could explain.

-And she'd remember what she said, would remember Robins confused and sober face at the confession, but she wouldn't bring it up. Neither would until nearly Christmas.

-Robin would come over to visit, dressed in a large sweater and pajama pants and they'd watch Rankin/Bass Christmas movies for hours. I'd be late-much too late in the night when Robin would pipe up.

-"I did some research. " She'd begin, not explaining her ramble before it began. "About what you said. Not being a boy- there's terms and stuff. It's actually really cool and scary but it's a thing and if I'm wrong or if it was the stupid drugs you can tell me to shut up but-"

-and Steve would just stare, unsure if she wanted to lie. She trusted Robin, trusted her more than she probably ever trusted Nancy, but was this a conversation she was allowed to have? A selfish need she was allowed to fulfill?

-Robin would just hold her hand, taking her from her mind before smiling nervously. "Stevie? "

-And the dams would break and suddenly the two would be hugging and crying on the floor while Rudolph's nose was glowing on screen

-Later robin would bring by boxes. Stevie would ask but Robin would shush her and make her open it to see.

-Inside would be a mountain of clothes, obviously some we're robins (the Mitch matched fabrics that we're just her style and a few sizes too big, some with her handwriting forever invested in the threads) and some others seemingly an attempt at mirroring Stevie's previous style (Girls style polos and plenty of plain color sweaters that seemed fitted). When asked Robin would just shrug

-"Figured if we're doing this you can't go around in your boring polos," Shed say

-And something about her saying 'We're doing this' that makes her feel all teary eyed and choked up

-By time season four hits they have a system in place.

-Stevie still does a little make up, makes her moles just a tad darker and even dares to contour her cheek bones to look higher, her eyeshadow is replaced by a tighten waterline and underneath her outfits she wears a pair of spanks that makes her waistline look a bit more curvy. She tried a bra once but it was itchy and tight and Robin just told her bra were overrated and she rarely ever wore one unless it was a sports bra

-And sports bras became Stevies favourite thing in the world

-When they hung out alone Stevie would wear the clothes Robin brought her. She'd wear shorts that shown off her muscled legs (which robin totally wasn't jealous of what?) and if she was daring, even a cropped shirt. She'd let Robin do her makeup and they'd just talk like nothing ever changed. Robin enjoyed it- with no little sisters in her life she was easy to accept Stevie and with no older sister at home Stevie fell into the dynamic happily.

-Added Steddie because I love them-

-And when she meets Eddie Munson, it's sort of odd.

-Because they're different- very different, and Stevie knows this: knows in her heart that the only familiar area between them was Dustin and the kids

-But her brain is making connections that are unknown to her.

-And Eddie seems to do the same because over the days he tries making conversation, tries joking and acting like they've been best friends for year's but half the time it leaves a confused Stevie and a frustrated Eddie.

-But Stevie tries, she asks questions and tries to engage because her brain tells her to, even if she doesn't know why

-And one night, when everyone is asleep after working on a plan, Stevie turns to Eddie and asks him a question that had been bugging her.

-"Whats the bandana for? "

-And a blush is on Eddies face, he twirls his long hair around his fingers and mumbles about underground meanings and something something not that important Steve promise you

-But Stevie is curious and topics have been gloomy so she scoots closer and asks again. "I'm not gonna give up yknow. "

-And so begins the half whispered explanation about coding and hankies and underground scenes suddenly makes much more sense to Stevie.

-Because she is there too, even when no one knew.

-And when he says it's a gay thing she can't help but be hurt, her chest aching as she asks. "So you don't date girls? "

-And Eddie would miss it as he began to explain the complexity of sexuality and how labels weren't always a priority and hearts not parts

-And maybe Stevie understood, and maybe she didn't because labels always made her comfortable but she would just smile and nod, and whisper about how she understood.

-"You understand? King Steve Harrington understands little queer me? "

-"More than you know Munson. "

-And it would probably click in Eddies mind, his eyes shimmering a tad but neither asks or tells, instead they'd lean against each other and looked out the window at the big moon as they prepare to face the reality of their situation again.

-and when the dust settled, both of them scarred (physically and literally) and bloody but alive, Stevie would admit it. Eddie would whisper about shaved bald hair and a chest that wasn't meant to be his but was given to him anyways. And Stevie would giggle at his poetic explanations of their situations.

-"Yknow the greens said soulmates used to be one person with 4 arms and 4 legs- they got split apart and they find eachother. I think we got split up and borrow a few pieces from eachother by accident"

-and they'd grow old, find the things that work and be happy:)

[chr0macide]

Break In 2: The Novelette (Fanfic)

PART 1

got damn I finally finished this. Writers block was wilding on my ass so I hope this didn't turn out like shit lol. I drew a lil bit of art for this fanfic (I say "drew" but a lot of it is just textures from google edited together into a picture lmao). Just 3 pics but yeah I got bored and wanted to draw. Might make a separate post for them sometime so people who don't wanna read or scroll through this can see them.

I recommend reading part 1, there are some references and callbacks that you might not get if you haven't read it already.

Again if you see any grammar/spelling errors please tell me. don't let me just leave that shit in because that's hella embarrassing 🙃

oh also for those who don’t know, the premise of this fanfic is basically just me turning the game into a short story

TW implied sexual violence (not involving any main characters, relatively short section, but its there)

This one is about 16,000 words, alright lets do this

Chapter I – Unsafe Haven

A fork of lightning illuminated the woods as Prince drove down the trail at a snail’s pace. The deluge was so heavy that it was almost impossible to see through the windshield, even with the wipers on. He brought the car to a standstill and let the engine idle.

“We’re gonna have to wait the storm out,” Prince told the kids. “Can’t keep driving like this.”

Stephanie kicked the back of Prince’s seat. “Worst camping trip ever,” she grumbled with her tiny voice.

“Relax. We’ll get there,” the elder brother said, but the truth was that he may or may not have taken a wrong turn through the thick fog.

It had been almost a year since the four kids had butted heads with their not-so-friendly neighborhood mafia. Well, three kids and one adult; Prince had turned 18 a few months ago. They’d been holed up in their house for too long, paranoid that Larry and his mobsters might show up for a little payback. It didn’t help that there had been a string of missing person reports in the area. To their dismay, their own uncle had disappeared, not to mention that the mob boss himself had vanished soon after they’d deactivated him. He hadn’t been sighted since, though, so Prince and Monica thought an outing would help take their minds off of everything.

They had everything they needed. The weather report had been favorable, yet rain was battering their windows. Prince folded his arms as he heard another clash of thunder. His boredom was replaced with panic as the subsequent flash of lightning struck the tree closest to them.

“Everyone out! Now!” he yelled as the trunk splintered and started to topple towards them. The kids tumbled out of the car and ran off as the tree smashed into the hood. The car alarm screamed.

“Could this trip get any worse?” Monica huffed as she walked around their totaled coupé. She popped the trunk and rummaged around inside.

Prince reached out and pulled her away. “Monica, wait, the engine-”

He was cut off as the crushed engine spat out a plume of smoke and exploded.

The kids stared at their flaming car.

“Shit,” said Hadrian.

Prince sighed. “Yeah.”

They looked around. They thought they’d reach the campsite early in the evening, but the storm had stalled them for so long that night had already come. Prince could hardly see the path ahead of them. “You didn’t happen to pull a flashlight out of there before it blew up, right?” he asked Monica.

Monica looked at the first aid kit she’d rescued. “No.”

“Damn. Well… we shouldn’t just stand around, I guess. Come on,” Prince said to the others. They climbed over the fallen tree and set off down the trail on foot.

The muddy path squelched under their shoes and thorns snagged their clothes as they trudged forward. Prince knew they should hurry, but shrubs and tree roots obscured by the shadows threatened to trip them up and send them face first into the dirt if they walked too fast.

Prince pulled out his cellphone as they moved, grumbling in frustration as the rain impaired the touchscreen. He tried to dial emergency services. No signal. He almost bumped into a traffic barricade in front of him while he was shoving the phone back into his damp pocket. “The hell? What is this doing here?”

He felt Monica tug on his sleeve.

“Do you see that?” Monica asked, pointing into the trees. It took Prince a few seconds to figure out what she was talking about, but he spied a yellow light blinking in the distance.

“What is it?” he wondered.

“I don’t know… but look.” Monica gestured downwards. There was a gravel path leading away from the barricaded trail. It looked like they’d be taking a detour.

“Let’s see if there’s a building there,” Monica suggested. Prince was apprehensive about veering off the main path, but he had no clue how far the campground was, if they were even going in the right direction. Maybe this was a better option. He and the other kids followed her.

It didn’t take long for them to reach the origin of the light. Steel walls stretched into the trees. The faint beams of moonlight that made it through the leaves glinted on the razor wire resting atop the fortifications.

A control panel was affixed to the wall next to the heavy-duty vertical lift door. There was the light source: a yellow diode, flashing on and off in the dark.

Prince peered through the doorway. It was already open. “What is this? A military base?”

Monica knitted her brow. “Maybe, but why would they leave the door like this?”

“I don’t see anyone.” The place gave him an unpleasant feeling in the pit of his stomach, but it was freezing, and his clothes were soaked all the way through. He stepped inside.

The dwelling had evidently been abandoned for a long time. One ceiling light persevered, shining weakly in the darkness. The floor was littered with trash and a sticky layer of dust coated the tiles. Corroded storage lockers lined one of the walls. The other was plastered with crappy graffiti.

Prince didn’t see anyone else. He beckoned the others inside. However, right as the last kid stepped through, there was another flash of lightning. The panel next to the door sparked and short circuited. Everyone flinched as the door slammed down with a loud bang.

“What the hell!” Prince exclaimed as he turned around. He gave the door a kick. It didn’t budge. The unlocking mechanism had failed. He tried tinkering with the control panel, but all he got was an electric shock. “Ow.”

Prince knew he wasn’t about to break through solid metal. The kids glanced around the room nervously. “Look for another way out,” Prince told everyone.

There was only one other door on the opposite wall. Monica made her way over and gently pushed it open, but it was just a stairwell leading even deeper down into the building. She shook her head at Prince. “Nothing here.”

Hadrian started to open the old lockers, searching for something that might be useful. He grimaced as he came upon one that wasn’t empty.

“Guys. Look,” Hadrian called out. The others crowded around. It was an all too familiar comedy mask that they’d hoped they would never have to see again. “I don’t think we’re in a military base.”

Prince’s stomach churned at the thought of running into Larry a second time. If he was uneasy before, he was on high alert now. In fact, he was so anxious that he nearly leapt out of his skin when something prodded the back of his leg.

The dog whined and sprang away as well before it ran away and cowered beneath a rotting wooden table. Its fur was patchy and matted. Muddy water was still dripping from it, but it looked like it might have been white underneath all that grime. It must have taken refuge here from the torrential downpour too before they arrived.

“A doggie!” Stephanie squealed in delight. She ran to pet it, but it growled and barked at her when she got close. “Mean doggie,” she pouted.

Prince paid no more attention to the dog. If there was a chance that there were gangsters prowling, he and the kids had to arm themselves. He didn’t see anything of use except a broken rack with a few rusty crowbars on it. He picked one up.

“Guess these will have to do.”

He tossed a couple to Monica and Hadrian.

“Hold up, you want us to go further inside?” Hadrian questioned as he caught the weapon.

“You got a better idea?”

Hadrian looked at the metal door, locked tight. “No,” he mumbled.

The group stood at the stairs. It was pitch black. A sense of déjà vu crept over Prince; it reminded him of the creepy basement back in his house. He dug through his pocket for his lighter and flicked it on, casting enough light down the steps for them to descend. The dog padded after them, though it still recoiled as Stephanie tried to touch it again.

They reached the base of the stairwell. Iron bars lined the walls on either side of them. It was some sort of jail. Prince thought the cells were all empty until someone stood up in the one right next to him.

Everyone yelped in alarm at the figure. Prince held his crowbar up defensively, even though the man was caged, but he looked familiar. He held his lighter up to illuminate his face.

“Uncle Pete?” Prince said, bewildered.

Pete waved. He grabbed the whiteboard attached to his belt. Hi Prince! Open the cell? he wrote.

“But I don’t have the key… oh, wait,” Prince said as he remembered that he was holding a crowbar. He jammed it in between the lock and the doorframe and broke the gate open. “But how did you get here?”

Mafia wanted some of my properties. Locked me up here alone when I wouldn’t transfer ownership, Pete scrawled as he stepped out of the cell.

“Oh, man. We were really worried,” Prince said as everyone wrapped Pete up in a group hug. “Wait a second. Does that mean there are mobsters nearby?”

No. Upper levels of the base are abandoned. Everyone is in lower levels.

Prince’s brow furrowed. Pete looked at him quizzically.

“The entrance malfunctioned. We can’t get out the way we came in,” Prince explained. Pete looked pensive now.

Only other way out is elevator on lowest level. Leads to south exit. Don’t know exactly where it is, but we would have to keep going down. Pete pointed at the other end of the jailhouse. More stairs. They were going to be seeing a lot of those.

The last thing Prince wanted to do was to delve into a criminal hideout, but they didn’t have any other choice. “How deep before we start running into mobsters?” he asked Pete as they walked to the staircase and descended further.

Pretty deep. Not sure about the exact level. I don’t th

Pete stopped writing as they reached the next area and looked around warily. It was some kind of common area, just as derelict as the previous rooms, but something felt off. Prince squinted through the dim lighting. The coffee table was caked with dust, but one handprint-shaped patch was clean.

Someone was in there with them.

Chapter II – Hackerman

Monica guarded herself with her first aid kit as a masked mafioso stood up from behind the couch and swung his crowbar at her. The plastic case cracked, but she retaliated with a jab to his gut with her own weapon. He clutched his abdomen in pain as Monica brought her weapon down on his head, knocking him out.

The guy wasn’t alone. Four of his buddies emerged from hiding while Monica was fending off the first, and they rushed the kids all at once. Pete hastily grabbed the crowbar that the downed mobster had dropped. He attacked one who was coming up on Prince’s side. He and Hadrian were kept busy by a couple of other mafiosos from the front. There was a brief scuffle before Pete managed to land a headshot and knock him unconscious as well.

Hadrian tried to lunge at one of his attackers, but the mobster hooked his crowbar around Hadrian’s own weapon and yanked it out of his hands. With nothing to defend himself, all he could do was shield his face with his arms. There was a crunch as the mobster’s crowbar met his forearm. He cried out in pain. “Fuck! Not again!”

The group withdrew further into the room as the remaining mobsters closed in on them. As their aggressors engaged them again, Prince fumbled and dropped his still-burning lighter amidst the chaos. The dust on the plush carpet ignited instantly. A blockade of smoke and fire materialized surprisingly quickly between him and the mafiosos.

“Come on!” urged Prince retreated through the next door. The dog darted ahead of him, spooked by the flames. Pete and the kids followed, but the mobsters had to fall back to the jailhouse to escape the inferno. It had been a quick fight, but Prince was shaking from the adrenaline. He turned to Pete.

“You said the upper levels were abandoned!”

Pete shrugged his shoulders and shook his head cluelessly. They are! I don’t know what they’re doing here, he wrote.

The blaze cast a flickering orange glow into the hallway they’d ended up in. At least this place looked empty. Monica made Hadrian sit on the ground and started fixing a splint to his arm. He sighed in defeat. They’d only just got here, and he was already out of the fight.

Prince cautiously opened the door next to them. A janitorial closet. He’d lost his lighter in the last room. They weren’t going to be able to see a thing once they left the fire behind, so he went inside and investigated the shelves.

He picked up a flashlight and brushed the dust off. “Lucky us.”

“See if it turns on first,” said Monica skeptically.

Prince flipped the switch. He smacked the flashlight into the palm of his hand a few times when it didn’t turn on. Nothing happened. “Damn it.”

He shoved the flashlight under his coat. Maybe they would come across some batteries later. As Monica finished patching up Hadrian’s arm, the group continued to the elevator on the other end of the hallway. Prince pushed the call button. “I don’t suppose this thing will take us out of here?”

Pete shook his head as the doors slid open. The control panel only contained deeper floors. His finger hovered over the button that would take them the lowest. They didn’t know precisely how far down the inhabited levels were, and he didn’t want to be jumped again as soon as the elevator reopened. He decided to select one of the higher ones. Better safe than sorry, Prince thought.

They said nothing as the elevator closed and took them downwards. They couldn’t see anything except the red LED display above the door. The floor number ticked into the negatives until it ground to a halt unexpectedly.

“Hold up. That’s not the level I chose,” Prince whispered. He could hear everyone shifting around in the dark as they prepared for the worst.

The doors opened. The person outside the elevator screamed and fumbled with his phone, almost dropping it. He clearly hadn’t been expecting to see anyone. Prince had his crowbar at the ready, but the guy was clad in a hoodie and jeans instead of one of the tailored suits that the mob usually wore.

“Uh… hi,” said Prince.

“Hey? You guys don’t look like mobsters,” the young man replied as he straightened his sunglasses.

“You don’t, either.”

“’Cause I’m not. What are you doing here if you aren’t one of them?” the stranger asked shiftily.

Prince shrugged. “We ran in here during a thunderstorm. Door malfunctioned. Now we’re trapped.”

The stranger buried his hands in his dark hair. “Are you fucking kidding me? The north exit is jammed? I snuck all the way up here for nothing!”

“You’re sneaking out? Were you a prisoner?” Monica probed.

“Ugh. Yeah, yeah, I was,” mumbled the man, who was now pacing around outside the elevator. “Name’s Helios-”

Hadrian snickered. Helios shot him a look.

“What? It’s a code name! I work for the government. I’m not supposed to tell people my real one.”

Hadrian rolled his eyes. “Sure, dude. Whatever.”

“OK, Helios… why were they keeping you down here?” asked Prince.

“I got abducted during the killing purge last year. They’ve been making me work for them. I’m a hacker,” Helios explained. “I managed to slip away from my station a while ago. They went batshit looking for me. It was a nightmare getting up here, and now I have to go all the way back down,” he groaned.

“Really? So you know where the south exit is,” Prince surmised.

Helios held up his phone. “Yeah. I got a blueprint of this place.” He stepped into the elevator with them, but he pursed his lips when he saw which level they had been heading towards. “Nah. That’s the first populated level. The guards would’ve rocked your shit. Get outta this thing,” he urged, gesturing for them to follow him into the floor they were at: a computer room. Most of the computers were powered off and missing keyboards, save for one, which had been plugged into one of the power outlets. Helios must have been using it.

“Any chance you can fix the door upstairs? I think it short circuited,” Monica inquired.

“No shot. I’m a hacker. Not an electrician. But like I said, I know exactly where the south exit is,” Helios responded. The group looked at his phone as he pulled up his map of the base. He marked the spot where the exit was. This place had a lot more floors than Prince had expected.

“This is going to suck,” he murmured.

“Tell me about it. We gotta go on foot, too, ‘cause this elevator won’t take us to the right place,” said Helios as he beckoned them out of the computer lab.

The corridors here were tight and winding. Their footsteps echoed through the metal walls, rough with oxidization and lined with rusty pipes. Stagnant water still dripped from some of them.

Prince grew anxious as he followed Helios. They’d been walking for a while without reaching any stairs or elevators. “Helios, where are you taking us? We’re still on the same floor,” he questioned.

“Relax. We’re making a pit stop,” Helios replied, waving Prince’s concern away.

“Dude, we don’t have time-“

Helios shushed him. They were in front of a door with a round window. Prince peered over Helios’s shoulder to see inside. He’d taken them to a kitchen, and Prince realized that they did, in fact, need to eat.

“How do you know there’s still food in here?” he asked the hacker.

Helios shushed him again. “I came here while I was on the way to the top level. Lower your damn voice. There’s someone inside,” he hissed.

Prince took a closer look through the round window. The oven was on. There was a mobster leaning against the countertop, facing away from them. Only one. “What is that guy doing all the way up here?” he whispered.

“No idea, but he’s alone. Just go bonk him,” Helios encouraged.

Prince moved forward Helios stepped out of the way. He put a hand on the door and gradually eased it open. Thankfully, the hinges didn’t squeak, so he crept inside until he was right behind the mafioso. Prince raised his crowbar.

The door clicked shut. The mobster whirled around at the noise. Prince faltered. His mouth hung open slightly in disbelief as he recognized the mafioso.

“Isaiah?”

Isaiah was scrambling for his own crowbar, but he paused when he heard his name. “Prince?”

Prince let his arm fall to his side. “What the actual shit? You’re still working for the mob?” he exclaimed.

“Why the hell are you in the base?” Isaiah blurted out in an equally baffled tone.

The door creaked as Helios edged it open. “Prince? You good?”

Hadrian pushed him out of the way with his good arm. “Nice to see a familiar face,” he said.

Isaiah looked even more confounded as Pete and the kids emerged. “Seriously, what are you doing here?”

Prince was beginning to get tired of recounting that. “There’s a storm outside. Ran in here. North entrance short circuited. Stuck. Explain why you’re here,” he demanded.

“Because I work here, dumbass,” Isaiah snapped. “You can’t just leave the mafia. They hunt deserters down… not to mention that I got fired from Builder Brothers. The owner found out I had ties to the mob, and now this is the only job I can get,” he muttered bitterly.

Prince scowled, but he supposed Isaiah had a point. “OK, I get it, but why is Larry still letting you work here? You helped us deactivate him.”

“He’s not in charge anymore. Haven’t seen him since that sewer brawl, actually. Someone else took over his duties,” Isaiah revealed.

Prince’s eyebrows shot up. “But a bunch of mobsters ran off with his body. It was on the news. They must have reactivated him, right?”

“Nope. He didn’t show up here, as far as I know. No idea what happened to him.”

The kids glanced at each other uneasily. “Who’s in charge now, then?” said Prince.

“Never met her, but her name is Mary Gearwise.”

“Gearwise? Let me guess, another automaton? Where are all these killer robots coming from?”

Isaiah shrugged. “Don’t ask me. I’m just a grunt… wait, aren’t you the hacker that escaped a while ago?” he realized, pointing at Helios.

The hacker looked at him warily. “Maybe. Your friend isn’t gonna turn me in, right?” he asked Prince.

“I ain’t no snitch,” laughed Isaiah.

“Then will you help us get out of the base?” Prince implored.

Isaiah’s smile faded. “Man, do you have any idea what they’ll do to me if I get caught with you guys?”

“Come on, at least help us until we start running into goons. You can wear your mask. They won’t know who you are.”

The mobster picked up his mask from the counter. He mulled Prince’s words over as he looked at it. “I guess so.”

The oven dinged. “On a lighter note… pizza’s done.” Isaiah grabbed an old mitt and pulled the serving board out and placed it on the countertop.

Prince had forgotten about the oven. “Why the hell are you making a pizza all the way up here?” Helios questioned incredulously, gesturing around at the soiled kitchen.

Isiah scratched his neck. “I got hungry, and I didn’t wanna share it with the other guys, OK? So I took a frozen pizza up here.”

“You were gonna eat a whole pizza?”

“Shut up. You guys can have some if you want. You probably aren’t gonna get your hands on food again until you make it out of here,” Isaiah told everyone.

As they ate, the dog nudged the door open with his nose and squeezed through. He’d stayed outside, but it seemed that the smell of cooking had enticed him. Stephanie held out a slice of pizza and tried to coax him closer. The dog gingerly took the slice in his mouth and devoured it ravenously.

Stephanie giggled. The dog let her pet him this time. She read the name tag on his collar. “Twado!” she squeaked. Twado wagged his tail.

The dog chewed on the empty pizza box as Isaiah looked at his watch. He pulled a flashlight out from under his jacket. “We gotta go. I better get you guys out of here while most of the base is asleep,” he said as he motioned for the group to follow him.

They reached a crossroad after a while. “Dude, the map says the closest stairwell is that way,” Helios contested, jabbing a thumb at the right passageway as Isaiah turned left.

“Your map is old. We never update those things. I know a short-”

Isaiah stopped talking mid-sentence as a rusty pipe on the ceiling ruptured in front of him. Scalding hot water hissed as it splashed against the cold metal floor and turned to steam. He didn’t fancy third-degree burns. “Damn. Guess we’re taking the long way around.”

They trailed through the narrow corridors behind the mobster in silence until Prince’s soles started to get sore. Too many stairs, but they eventually ran into a door.

Isaiah reached for the handle. “I think—SHIT!”

He jerked his hand back as the pipe next to the door burst as well, but it wasn’t water that erupted. Isaiah ripped his glove off and threw it to the ground as the substance ate through it.

“What the hell is that?” Price exclaimed.

“It’s the stuff we poured into the sewers last purge. Thought we shut off all the valves already. I need to quit coming up here,” muttered the mafioso. “Nevermind. There’s another way in this room.” He turned to the door on the opposite wall and pushed it open.

They were in an old dormitory. The entrance to the stairwell was on the other side of the room. “As I was saying, I think the next level down is… uh…”

Isaiah stopped in the middle of the room and went silent. He looked up at the entresol. More than a few doors were slightly ajar.

“Isaiah? Something wrong?” Prince whispered.

“The doors were shut last time I was here,” he whispered back.

It was another ambush. The mafiosos threw the dormitory doors open and jumped down from the entresol. Prince cried out as one of them landed on him. He lost his weapon as he wrestled on the floor with the aggressor and grunted in pain when he felt something sharp pierce his side. Twado ran over and clamped his fangs around the mafioso’s leg.

Isaiah hurriedly pulled his mask over his face as more mobsters jumped down and confronted him.

“Is that you, Isa-”

He silenced his colleague with a crowbar to the face before he could get his name out. The other two elected to simply charge at him and Helios without any pleasantries. He dropped his flashlight as they clashed.

Prince felt around for his crowbar in the dark as Twado dragged his attacker away. He heard a yelp Monica clocked the mobster on the head.

Pete stood in front of Hadrian and Stephanie as two more advanced on them. They laughed as they brandished their weapons. “Why don’t you put that crowbar down before you hurt yourself, old man?” one of them snickered. Hadrian covered his sister’s eyes.

Prince found his weapon as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. He looked over at his uncle as one mobster seized his crowbar while the other delivered a strike to his head, but they turned around as he and Monica came up behind them. Prince tore the blade out of his side and drove it into one of the unsuspecting mobsters’ eyes. She screamed and reeled as Monica aimed a blow at the other mafioso, who sidestepped the hit, but now Prince was coming at him as well.

The mobster made a dash for the stairs, only to run into Isaiah. The two mobsters who’d been accosting him lay in a pile. Isaiah promptly sliced his associate’s throat open using a switchblade of his own. He clutched at the wound and gasped for air, but he could only cough and choke on his blood.

Isaiah scowled beneath his mask at all the noise his victim was making and shut him up with a sharp blow to the skull. He crumpled to the ground, still wheezing and spluttering while unconscious.

That was the last of them. Hadrian picked up Pete’s fallen sunglasses for him. He put them back on as Monica pulled Prince’s bloodied coat off.

“How bad is it?” Prince asked.

Monica grabbed the flashlight from the ground at held it up to inspect Prince’s wound. “Well, since you’re still standing, it’s probably not that deep. I’d put you on bed rest, but…”

She didn’t bother finishing. There was no time for bed rest in this place, of course. There was nothing she could do except clean it and stitch it up.

“They were waiting for us. How did they know you were here?” Isaiah wondered.

Prince shrugged. “We were attacked earlier as well on one of the top levels. I don’t suppose you have security cameras around here?”

“No. Not since…” Isaiah gestured at Helios.

“I knocked them offline while I was trying to escape,” the hacker said. “I know for a fact they’re still down. They couldn’t have seen you.”

Isaiah paced around the dormitory wordlessly as Monica sutured Prince’s wound shut, deep in thought. He sighed and shook his head. “I don’t know what’s going on. We have to-”

He stopped talking as the mobster next to him stirred. There was a crunch as Isaiah stomped on his neck, killing him. Everyone else winced.

“What the hell, Isaiah? That’s not necessary,” Prince admonished.

“Yes, it was. He saw my face earlier. I told you I’m fucked if one of these assholes reports me.”

“He was already unconscious!”

Isaiah got up in Prince’s face, but Helios interrupted their spat before he could say anything. “You two better start getting along, ‘cause we need to make a plan,” he said as he nudged Isaiah away and planted himself between them. He gestured all around at the fallen mafiosos. “We’re gonna be running into plenty of these guys when we reach the bottom of those stairs.”

“Oh. Right. That’s what I was trying to tell you guys earlier. It’s a good thing we ended up in here, actually,” Isaiah said as he disappeared into one of the dorms. They heard him rooting around inside until he came out with a bunch of suits and masks slung over his shoulder, a little faded with age, but still wearable. He dumped them in a pile on the ground. “Ol’ reliable. Everyone put one of these things on.”

Prince pulled a duffel bag out of the pile while he was looking for something his size. “What’s this for?”

“That’s for Twado,” said Isaiah.

Twado gave him the side-eye.

“Hey, don’t look at me like that. The boss doesn’t allow dogs in here. You’ll blow our cover if anyone sees you.”

The dog allowed Isaiah to lower him into the bag, but then the group encountered the same problem as last time. Stephanie was sticking out like a sore thumb.

“Maybe we can hide her in the middle of the group again?” Prince suggested.

Isaiah shook his head. “It’s not gonna work. The hallways aren’t wide enough.”

The mafioso drummed his fingers on the strap of the duffel bag. Nobody else was offering up any ideas.

“I know what we can do,” he spoke hesitantly. Everyone looked at him.

Prince blinked. “Well? Spit it out.”

Isaiah held up a hand. “Don’t get mad at me for it.”

Prince’s eyes narrowed.

“First of all, this base is part of a sex trafficking ring,” said Isaiah.

“You better not be about to say any dumb shit.”

Isaiah held up both hands now. “Just listen! We pretend,” he continued, enunciating the ‘pretend’ very clearly, “that Stephanie is one of the girls we abducted—”

“You guys take little girls for that?” Hadrian admonished.

“Look, man, I just work in the canteen. This place didn’t even have a human trafficking branch when I got here. As I was saying, we pretend she’s a…”

Isaiah trailed off as Prince stared daggers.

“Prisoner,” the mobster said slowly. When the elder brother didn’t throttle him, he kept talking. “The shortest path to the exit involves one of the, uh, filming areas, so that’ll be her excuse to be there.”

Helios looked at his blueprint. “He’s right. There’s gonna be another elevator at the end of the filming area’s hallway.” He zoomed in on the location.

Isaiah leaned over to inspect the map as well. “We can ride it to that detention level and act like we’re taking her to a holding cell,” he said as he pointed out a floor below the filming area, “but we can veer away towards the west edge of the base. That place is as deserted as the upper levels. We’ll make our way through there until we reach the lowest level. After that… it gets more difficult.”

“No kidding,” Helios agreed. “That’s where the boss lives. The whole floor is teeming with goons, but the ventilation shafts that far underground are so big that we can fit through them. So, we sneak over to where the elevator is. Get out of the vents while nobody’s looking. Ride it all the way up to the south exit. No sweat,” he schemed as he drew a path with his finger from their location to the exit.

Prince still looked vaguely pissed off, but he nodded. “OK. Fine. Sounds like a plan.”

Chapter III – Incident Report

Prince squinted as his troupe reached the bottom of the stairwell. The fluorescent lights were harsh on his eyes after they’d wandered around in the dark for hours. He scrunched up his face in revulsion as the smell hit him. The filming area reeked of stale sweat and perhaps other fluids that he preferred not to think about.

“There,” Isaiah whispered to Prince, pointing at the elevator on the other end of the corridor. “Hold onto Stephanie and walk in front of us.”

Prince took Stephanie gently by the hand and followed Isaiah down the corridor.

They were alone at first, but Prince was startled as a door next to them opened. A pair of mobsters shoved a girl into the hall with nothing but a worn-out blanket around her shoulders. She stared through Prince with dead eyes as the mafiosos forced her onwards.

The two groups didn’t speak as they passed each other, but one of the mafiosos brushed a lock of dark hair out of Stephanie’s face and leered at her with yellowed teeth as he strolled by. Prince’s hand tightened around his crowbar until his knuckles were white.

Time felt like it was passing agonizingly slowly as they walked. Prince’s face darkened as they passed another door. He could hear the sounds of a struggle inside. A scream pierced the air. He came to a halt as he unwillingly recalled the purge he’d endured. He felt a hand on his shoulder and glanced back at Isaiah. His face was concealed, but Prince could tell the mobster was stone-faced from his eyes. So was his family, staring back at him through their masks. The sight was unnerving, even though he knew it was only them.

“Keep going. There’s nothing you can do for her now,” whispered Isaiah.

Prince turned stiffly and continued on their path.

There were no more disturbances. They made it to the elevator without any resistance. Isaiah punched in the access code and pressed the button for the detention level.

Helios sighed deeply as the doors closed. “That was unpleasant.”

Nobody was in the mood to respond.

Isaiah spoke up as they neared their destination floor. “We have to get the Warden to open the entrance for us. There’s a one-way exit in the holding area that leads to the west edge. No one is allowed to use it, but the cams are off, so who cares. Just let me do the talking. And one more thing: the audio feed is still running, so keep quiet until we get out of there,” he told everyone as the elevator reopened. The mafioso took the lead this time.

The Warden was resting his elbow on the desk with his face in his palm. He’d been looking at his reflection in his dimmed computer screen as he styled his fiery orange mohawk with a free hand, but his lidded eyes followed Isaiah as he approached. He stared at the newcomers, uninterested in initiating a conversation with them.

“Markus. New inmate,” Isaiah said.

Markus turned his eyes to the computer on his table. “The boss didn’t tell me of any new arrivals today,” he replied flatly.

“We haven’t notified her about this one yet. You’re the first to know. Good for you. Open up,” demanded Isaiah.

The Warden lifted his head from his hand. He narrowed his eyes again, now in skepticism instead of tiredness. Prince put himself in front of Hadrian, hopefully obscuring the boy’s splint. “Why did a little girl need five people escorting her here?”

“What the hell am I being interrogated for? This is the rest of my patrol group. We just got back. Quit wasting my time and open the fucking door,” Isaiah snapped.

Markus sighed. “Whatever. Cell 047,” he told the mobster as he stood up. The guy was even taller than Isaiah, Prince realized, and he was wide enough that he had to leave his too-small tuxedo jacket unbuttoned. He entered a string of numbers into the keypad next to the entrance. The blast door screeched open. “Get out of my face,” said the Warden as he waved them inside.

Prince looked straight ahead. Whatever was behind all the steel doors lining the passageway, he didn’t want to see. Markus closed the entrance behind them as they walked away.

Everyone did as Isaiah had said and kept silent until they reached the exit. A lone spider was busy spinning a web on the doorframe. Tough luck for him. The door squealed as Isaiah opened it and beckoned everyone through.

“Alright, we’re in the clear,” he said after he shut the exit.

The concrete corridor ahead looked strangely sterile at first, but a thin film of dust had settled on the ground upon closer inspection. Nobody had been here in a while.

“Where are we?” Prince asked.

Isaiah took off his mask and looked back at him as they made their way through the hall. “It used to be the chem sector when Larry was in charge. Miss Gearwise decommissioned it after she took over. She’s more interested in biotech and cybernetics, apparently. Most of her stuff is on the bottom floor, though.”

Prince peered through the windowpanes in the doors as Isaiah let Twado out of the duffel bag. Glassware and machinery were set up on the tables as if the users had left in a hurry. Binders full of notes and documents were still open on the desks. Even the lights were still on.

“Looks like she couldn’t wait to shut this place down,” Prince remarked.

Isaiah didn’t look at him now. He just shrugged.

Prince wished the mafioso would talk a little more, because the silence here was even more eerie than it had been in the derelict upper levels. The laboratory looked too clean and orderly. It felt wrong for it to be deserted. He was almost glad when the blindingly white walls gave way to rough stone and steel floors as they moved yet deeper into the base.

They were surrounded by a mess of tubing and shafts as they walked. There were no walls here at all to hide the plumbing and ventilation systems.

“Where are we now?” Prince wondered out loud.

“Still in the chem lab. Larry wasn’t one for frills. He didn’t bother with dressing the place up when he expanded it downwards,” Isaiah answered.

“You know a lot about that guy. Didn’t you only know him for a few days before we took him out?” Hadrian remarked. Isaiah shot him a glare over his shoulder, but not before Monica elbowed her little brother. The last thing they needed was to piss their guide off, even if he might be keeping secrets.

The mobster’s dark irises looked black in the low lighting. “You know I hate it when people ask too many questions, right? I hear the other mafiosos talking about him sometimes, is all,” he claimed as he turned away.

Maybe it was for the best that he and the rest of the group didn’t talk much. The sound of dripping water and air flowing through the vents suited Prince just fine now, but after a while, his ears picked up something that was neither of those. Thumping? It wasn’t quite loud enough for him to tell.

“Do you guys hear that?”

Isaiah paused. “Hear what?”

They all listened, but whatever noise Prince heard had stopped now. “Nevermind. It’s gone.”

Isaiah pursed his lips in annoyance at the interruption and continued forward. Prince didn’t notice any more strange sounds, and he’d started to think he’d been imagining it until he heard it again, much louder this time. Everyone stopped in their tracks and looked up. The rusted ventilation panel above them was starting to buckle. “Get back!” Isaiah whispered harshly.

The old screws snapped apart and the vent gave way. Out tumbled a stout man in a trench coat. He grunted in discomfort as he landed in a heap in front of the group. He scrambled to his feet after he glanced up and realized he wasn’t alone, but his panic was short-lived as he beheld the bizarre caravan in front of him. They stared back, equally perplexed. The guy looked like he’d been ripped straight out of a generic mystery film.

Isaiah had pulled his mask over his face once more, but he cautiously removed it again when he saw that it wasn’t one of his own associates who had shown up. “Who the hell are you?”

The man hesitated, seemingly reluctant to reveal that, but Pete pushed his way to the front of the gathering. The stranger’s face lit up.

“Peter! It’s been too long!” he exclaimed as he slapped his hand on Pete’s shoulder. “But what are you doing here?”

Pete scribbled a few sentences on his whiteboard. Kidnapped. My nieces and nephews are trapped here as well. North exit broke down. Looking for the other one.

“The north exit malfunctioned? How odd,” the stranger pondered.

Pete turned back towards the group and wrote again.

“Detective Bradley Beans,” Prince read out loud.

Bradley snapped out of his musings. “Hm? Oh, yes, that’s me. I was assigned to spy on the mob’s activities here. I’ve been using the ventilation system to stay out of sight, but…”

He eyed the broken vent.

“Perhaps I ought to lose a few pounds. Very fortunate that I was in the west edge.” Bradley picked his fallen umbrella up from the ground. “Anyway, Pete here was a coworker of mine before he retired. Good to see you again, old man,” said the Detective, patting the old man on the back.

“Wow. How long have you been hiding here?” Prince asked.

“Almost a year. I arrived soon after the last purge. I heard all about your battle with Mr. Clockturn. Very remarkable, though I wish the national guard would have moved in a bit quicker… kids shouldn’t have to wrangle crime lords,” grumbled Bradley, shaking his head. His gaze shifted to Isaiah. “Who is your, er, companion?”

“This is Isaiah. He helped us during the purge. And now he’s helping us find our way out of here,” Prince explained.

“I see. Well, there’s no use in dallying here, then. I was actually on my way out as well. Care to lead the way, Isaiah?” Bradley invited, motioning for the mobster to go on ahead of him. He did.

Maybe he shouldn’t pry, but Prince was curious. “So… you’ve been investigating the mob? What did you see?” he asked as they walked.

The Detective’s face grew serious. “One of the reasons I was sent here was to find out what happened to Mr. Clockturn after his body was taken. I already had a hunch that Miss Gearwise had a hand in his disappearance. The evidence I’ve compiled confirmed it. He’s in here somewhere.”

Trepidation rippled through the group.

“I haven’t seen him, but I overheard the personnel in the cybernetics sector speaking of him. The papers I managed to nick suggest Miss Gearwise has been performing experiments on him, and it doesn’t seem that he’s a willing participant.”

“What kind of experiments?” Prince questioned.

Bradley’s brow was crumpled in worry. “The documents didn’t detail their nature or purpose, I’m afraid. I went looking for some that did, but I came up empty handed… Miss Gearwise has put a lot of effort into keeping her activities secret. I suspect he’s being held in the bottommost level, but it was too risky to go poking around there.”

Hadrian rolled his eyes. “Sucks to be him, but what is he? Who is making these freaks?”

Bradley opened his mouth to answer, but then he frowned, stopping himself. “It’s classified info. I assure you that law enforcement has it handled.”

There was a door in their way, but it refused to open when Isaiah put his hand on the push bar. Prince looked at the keypad next to it. “Please tell me you know the code.”

“No need for that.” Isaiah dug through his pocket for his keycard and inserted it into the side of the pad. The door unlocked with a click, and he shoved it open with unneeded force. The mobster had been quiet, but Prince observed that he was becoming more and more vexed as Bradley recounted his findings. Cops and gangsters weren’t exactly friends, of course, but he thought Isaiah’s reactions were still a little over the top.

Isaiah went ahead, but everyone else was reluctant to enter the new area. A metal bridge was suspended over a wide pool of roiling red liquid.

Prince stepped onto the crossing uncertainly. The fumes stung his eyes. “Isaiah? What is that?”

The mafioso turned around. “This is where we made the chemical we emptied into the sewers.” His shoes clanked softly against the bridge’s metal lattices as he continued across. “We’ll be fine. Just don’t fall in,” he reminded Prince. He seemed pretty sure of himself, so everybody followed.

They heard heavy footsteps approaching long before they could reach the other side. Isaiah redonned his mask. “This is the worst possible time.” He looked back at the door they’d entered from.

The Warden’s huge shadow approached. He kicked the entrance open and stepped onto the bridge, followed closely by four of his pals. “I knew you guys were up to some bullshit,” he muttered as he motioned for the other mafiosos to charge.

Markus looked like he could drop all of them on his own, but Prince knew they wouldn’t make it to the exit before their assailants reached them. His fist clenched around his weapon. He might be able to shove the big guy off the bridge if he was deft enough…

Isaiah had different plans. He jammed his crowbar through a joint in the bridge and gritted his teeth as he strained to pry the two sections apart. Realizing what the mobster was doing, Prince knelt down to help out. They jumped back as soon as they heard the rusty screws break.

Markus held out his arm to stop his cronies from going any further. The bridge section in front of him slanted dangerously towards the corrosive liquid far below.

The Warden shook his head. “Back up. I have a better idea,” he said as he ushered the other mobsters back into the hallway.

Isaiah’s eyes widened. “MOVE!” he shouted as he bolted towards the exit.

Too slow. The lock engaged right before he touched the door. He punched it in frustration. “Damn it!” he roared as an alarm bell rang through the chamber.

“Isaiah? What does that mean?” Prince asked as the hazard lights on the walls blinked on. He looked at Monica as she tapped his shoulder and saw that she was staring at the red liquid under them. It was rising. He looked up at Isaiah again.

“The doors seal automatically when someone brings the liquid level up.” Isaiah pointed at the console attached to the wall. “We have to reactivate the drawdown system, but I don’t know the passcode,” he explained hastily.

Prince’s gaze darted between Isaiah and the keypad. “Won’t your keycard work?”

“Fucking look, man! There’s no slot for the keycard here!”

Helios pushed him out of the way. “Let me see what I can do,” he said as he fished a USB drive out of his sling bag and inserted it into one of the console’s ports. Prince heard him typing as fast as he could while the caustic chemicals hissed and simmered against the bridge’s supports.

“Uh, Isaiah? Aren’t the beams corrosion resistant?” Hadrian asked, his voice quivering.

Isaiah kept his eyes on the framework beneath them as it sizzled. “Yeah…? But we were never allowed to bring the liquid level this high back when the chem lab was-”

He stopped speaking abruptly as the scaffolds creaked and the bridge started to tilt. Everyone shuffled around anxiously, inching towards the locked door. Twado ran back and forth across the bridge frenetically, but there was nowhere to go.

“Quit bunching up like sardines! You guys are gonna collapse this thing faster,” Monica warned. “Helios? How much longer?”

“Chill. I almost got it,” the hacker replied as the bridge continued to waver.

Prince heard something snap below them as the console beeped and the alarms shut off. They all let out a collective sigh of relief as the liquid began receding, but the support beams were already done for. Helios was nearly flattened as everyone barreled through the exit. They heard the bridge splash into the chemicals behind them.

Markus had been watching them through the window on the other door. He slammed his fist against the wall as he saw the intruders escape before moving out of sight.

“That was a bit too close for comfort,” Bradley breathed.

Isaiah glared at him. “Yeah. It was. The vent you guys are looking for is right at the end of the tunnel.” He said, jabbing a thumb behind him. “Find the elevator yourselves. I’m outta here.”

“What? Come on, man,” Prince implored, reaching out to stop him. “At least point out the right shaft-“

The mobster shrugged him off. “No! You guys have dragged me too far into your shit,” he spat. “And Markus saw your faces, you know. He’s probably on his way to tell Miss Gearwise all about you, so get going,” he finished, waving them off. Isaiah turned away into a connecting corridor and left them alone.

Chapter IV – Interlude

The apertures of Larry’s optical sensors contracted in discomfort as the lights switched on. He heard Mary’s high heels clicking softly against the floor as she stepped into his view, a lab coat thrown over her viridian dress. The disgraced crime boss struggled in his restraints, but that hadn’t worked before, and it wasn’t working now. Mary tittered at his efforts as Larry sighed and went limp on the operating table.

“Good evening, Larry. Or morning, rather. I think it’s past midnight,” she laughed, her tone maddeningly cavalier in contrast to what she was about to do. A glower was Larry’s only response.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that.” Mary walked out of his field of vision and opened one of the cabinets in the operating room. Larry could only listen to her preparing the necessary apparatus, her tools clinking against the steel tray. “All I’ve done is try to help you, and all I get in return is insults and vitriol.”

A few wisps of steam seeped from the ventilation slits on Larry’s face. He’d heard Mary voice her false concern for him too many times. “Who do you think you’re fooling?” he growled.

Larry heard the flames roar indignantly in Mary’s firebox. The tools on her tray rattled as she set it down on the stand next to the surgical table forcefully. She wasn’t smiling any more as she walked to the head of the table. She placed her hands on either side of him and leaned in.

“Stop behaving as if you don’t understand me, Larry. You were deactivated by a pack of children and allowed the purge to end early. You are worthless to this organization as you are. You were weak and I fixed you, whether you and your overblown ego can admit it or not,” she hissed, her breath blisteringly hot against his metallic skin. It would have been painful back when he’d still had flesh to melt… but that was a long time ago.

Larry clenched his fists at her words. His claws grated against the palms of his hands. “Overblown ego? You’re the one who painted your casing,” he spat, sneering at the Mary’s conceit.

Mary smirked, her moodiness fading as abruptly as it had appeared. “Ha! Am I vain for taking care of myself? You look like you haven’t been polished in years,” she taunted. The bright lights glinted on her pearly white coating as she stood up straight and returned to her tray of implements. “But I think that’s enough small talk.”

She reached out and loosened the buttons on his shirt. Larry snapped his metal jaws at her hand, but she pulled away before he could catch her fingers in his teeth.

He heard Mary pick up one of her tools. A mechanical buzzing filled the operating theater. He strained against his fetters again. This was the moment he’d been dreading for so long.

Mary loomed over him, the ghost of a smile on her lime green lips. The surgical lamp formed a halo of harsh fluorescent light around her as she brought the metal cutter to his chest.

Chapter V – Judgement Hall

Prince let his arm fall limply to his side as he watched Isaiah disappear around the bend. Helios patted him on the shoulder once the mobster was out of earshot. “We’ll be fine without him. I told you I know where the elevator is. Let’s go,” he said, gently urging Prince to start down the other hallway.

Helios led them now, and he walked fast. There was no telling how long they had before Markus tipped the boss off to their whereabouts. They didn’t have any trouble finding the vent, but Helios didn’t have anything to open it with. “Anyone got a screwdriver handy? I, uh, left mine in my hoodie when we got changed,” he admitted.

Bradley searched his overcoat for his screwdriver, but he gave Helios an odd look as he did. “Agent Helios? Is that you?”

The hacker’s jaw tightened. “Just get the vent open, old man.”

Prince cocked an eyebrow. “You guys know each other?”

Helios looked at Bradley disdainfully as the Detective knelt down and unscrewed the panel. “This asshole was one of the guys who arrested me a few years back. I used to be a part of Anonymous.”

Bradley’s face grew sour at the hacker’s enmity, but he ignored him.

Oblivious to the tension, Hadrian’s eyes lit up. “Whoa! You were in Anonymous? That’s cool as fuck!”

“But you work for the government now,” Prince pointed out. “How did that happen?”

“They gave me a choice when they brought me in. Work for them or go to the slammer. I think it’s pretty obvious which one I chose.”

The last screw clinked to the ground. Bradley moved the vent cover aside and gestured wordlessly for Helios to enter first.

Stephanie faltered in front of the opening, her face blank. She’d been growing quieter and quieter as they ventured further into the base, retreating into herself, but Prince didn’t know what he could do except keep her close. He crouched down to her level and laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Monica and I will go in front of you, OK? Just follow us. We’ll be…”

He stopped himself. He didn’t know when they were going to be home.

“We’ll be out of here soon. I promise.”

She nodded silently. The eldest siblings went first. Stephanie slowly clambered into the duct after them.

The passage was wide enough that they didn’t have to crawl, but they were almost bent double as they wormed through the cramped shaft. Prince almost thought he could discern distant screams, but maybe it was only the air rustling in his ears as it rushed through the tunnel around them.

He followed close behind Helios, whose nose was buried in his phone, examining the map as he walked. Prince could see the rooms they were passing through the narrow slots in the vent panels. Dorms. Armories. Warehouses. Computer labs. Workshops and laboratories. He paused as they passed an office.

Monica nearly bumped into him. “Prince? What’s the hold up?” she whispered. Helios halted and glanced back to look at him quizzically as well when he heard him stop walking.

Prince peered through the ventilation slits. “It’s an office. I see Markus.”

Helios and Monica crowded in next to Prince to take a look for themselves. Markus wasn’t alone. They couldn’t make out the conversation, but the Warden was speaking to a woman noticeably taller than him. Her hair, tied into a bun, was unnaturally reflective, and so was her pale opaline skin.

“It’s the boss,” Helios murmured.

Bradley piped up from the back of the lineup, careful to keep his voice low. “We don’t have time to dawdle here, then. We’ve got to get to the elevator before they figure out where we are.”

Prince lingered for a moment longer. Mary didn’t look too pleased with whatever the Warden was telling her. She glanced towards the vent. Her emerald LED eyes met with his for a instant. Prince’s blood froze in his veins.

Mary’s eyes flitted back to Markus before he could react, though, and there was no change in her hard visage. Maybe he was mistaken. She hadn’t seen him. He told himself so, at least.

“Dude? You okay?”

Prince was brought out of his thoughts by Helios’s voice. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good. Uh, Bradley is right. Let’s hurry up,” he stammered, suddenly very eager to get moving again.

Helios didn’t delay. They weren’t far from their target now, and it wasn’t long before he spied their exit elevator from behind a vent.

“There!” he whispered, but he hesitated. “I don’t see anyone, though. Is this place always so empty?”

The hall was dark and devoid of mobsters. Nobody could answer Helios’s question, of course. Prince wished Isaiah was here to tell them whether it was shady or not. Either way, this simplified things. They didn’t have to figure out how to get out of the ventilation system without looking suspicious.

They couldn’t reach the screws from the inside of the vent, so Helios stuck his crowbar in between the wall and the panel and pried until the cover snapped open. Everyone squeezed out, but when they stood before the elevator, they saw that none of the buttons or indicators were lit. Prince pushed one. Nothing happened.

There was a shrill bout of audio feedback as the intercoms in the hall switched on. The corridor reverberated with a woman’s bitter, derisive laughter. “Don’t bother. I already disabled it. You won’t be going anywhere, boy. You and your friends have broken into my base and caused me a lot of trouble.”

Prince was too cowed to respond. Monica spoke instead.

“We didn’t break in! Your shitty door malfunctioned and trapped us inside. We don’t even want to be here. Let us leave,” Monica demanded.

“I don’t think so. After all, how many of my guards have you massacred?” Mary reminded them.

“Oh, please. You talk like these kids were the instigators,” Bradley rebuked.

“Detective Beans! I knew there was an informant in here. And now I don’t even need to hunt you down,” Mary gloated. “You came here looking for Larry, didn’t you? You can forget about that. I doubt you’ll be living long enough to see him.”

The blast door at the other end of the hallway opened up. The lights blinked on. The group realized that they weren’t as alone as they thought. They could see the silhouettes of mobsters through the windows lining the corridor, glaring at them through their uncanny purge masks.

“This should be fun,” quipped Mary. The intercom switched off with a thunk.

With no other choice, the group hesitantly made their way to the door. Heat radiated from the adjoining room, though it turned out that calling it a room was an understatement. The cavern was gigantesque. The walls on either side were thick metal. The jagged granite on the opposite side of the entrance was left unrefined, save for the wall of the control room and the mezzanine that Mary was standing upon, glowering down at them from high above. Molten lava churned below the metal platform ahead of them, linked to their door by nothing except a rickety rope bridge. Prince was reluctant to walk across. The thing didn’t look like it would hold their combined weight.

There were footsteps from their rear. The mafiosos were skulking towards them now, brandishing their weapons, compelling them forward.

They were boxed in, so Prince took a tentative step onto the bridge. The boards creaked as he walked onto the platform. The bridge gave way and fell into the lava after everyone had crossed—one of the mobsters had severed the ropes with his knife behind them. Prince looked up at Mary, wondering what her plan was. He couldn’t see much more than her glowing eyes in the darkness overhead.

“Ah, we meet at last… though it seems that some of your allies have deserted you,” Mary laughed. Her voice was shrill and tinny compared to Larry’s baritone, but it echoed through the cave all the same.

They glanced around at each other. She was right. Prince hadn’t been paying attention, but Helios and Uncle Pete had not followed them in.

“No matter. My subordinates will deal with them,” she continued. With that out of the way, Mary looked the gathering up and down as she leaned on her crowbar. “You’re aware there were firearms in the supply depots, right? I know you passed a few of those on your way here,” she told them, quirking an eyebrow.

Prince wasn’t too sad that they’d missed the guns—the rounds would probably ricochet right off Mary’s casing anyway—but Mary’s jeering was making him more annoyed than afraid. “Did you bring us in here for a fight or to talk shit at us?”

Mary narrowed her eyes at his provocation. She beckoned one of the operatives inside the control room. Markus came out and handed her violin to her. She placed it beneath her chin and drew her crowbar across the strings, producing a poignant melody, and Prince immediately heard burbling from the pipeline at the edge of the platform. There was a thin scraping noise as the valve’s handwheel turned on its own.

Everyone retreated towards the other end of the platform as lava spilled out of the pipe, but it streamed until they were backed up to the very edge. Any closer and the heat would start to sear them.

However, as they teetered on the edge, the valve screeched shut and the lava flow spluttered out. The group glanced around at each other, both relieved and confused.

There was a discordant twang Mary’s music faltered. Bewilderment crossed her sharp features. It appeared that she didn’t know what was happening, either. She started to play again after a moment, but the valve made a stubborn scraping noise, refusing to reopen.

Mary scowled deeply. She played a different tune this time. The lava started to drain, but their respite was short-lived as she thrust her violin back into Markus’s hands and jumped down from the mezzanine. There was a resounding bang as her high heels met steel, sending a tremor across the platform.

“Let’s dance.”

Chapter VI – Gearwise

Clang. Whirr. Prince had heard that once before, but now he was ready for it as Mary bolted at him, buzzsaws unsheathed. The blades whined in his ear as he rolled out of the way. He managed to keep all his blood inside him this time, at least for the moment.

Prince didn’t waste time in retaliating, lunging at Mary with his crowbar as she retracted her saws. She didn’t look as tough as Larry. He thought he might be able to take her down the old-fashioned way, but he was quickly disillusioned as his weapon bounced off of her casing harmlessly, barely even chipping her paint.

Mary responded in kind, and her blow sent him off the edge of the platform, but he managed to grab onto the rim, narrowly avoiding a fiery death. Winded, he wheezed and gasp for air as he gingerly dragged himself back to safety… well, relative safety. His ribs were aching like hell.

Hadrian started towards the automaton, but Bradley held an arm out to stop him. “Don’t be reckless. Your arm is injured. Stay out of this and keep your sister safe,” the Detective told him, nodding at Stephanie. The girl held onto her brother’s leg tightly.

Twado rushed at Mary instead, gnashing his teeth, evidently furious at her for striking Prince. She must not have wanted her gilded crowbar to touch the mangy thing, because her lip curled in disgust as she delivered a swift kick to his side. A few of the kids winced as they heard a crack. The dog yelped as he slid across the platform and lay still. Bradley hurried over to check on him.

The dog had diverted Mary’s attention. Maybe Monica had the chance to turn her wind-up key. She tried to edge around the automaton while she was occupied with Twado and reached up to grab it, but she’d barely touched her fingertip to the key before Mary turned abruptly and snatched Monica by the wrist in a crushing grip. She flung the girl at Prince as if she were as light as a ragdoll, and Prince had only just climbed back onto the platform when Monica collided with him, sending both of them off the edge again.

Prince caught the rim of the stage again. Monica could only grab hold of the cuff of Prince’s jeans. He tried to pull himself up, but it was impossible this time with the added weight.

Bradley stood up from where Twado was—the dog seemed fine now—and ran towards them as they dangled from the rim, but Mary sauntered into his path.

Mary opened her mouth, probably to expound another snide remark, but she was cut off before she got so much as a word out. Bradley wasted no time in striking out with his umbrella. Prince thought the guy was about to get knocked out cold, but he must have been even stronger than he looked, because Mary staggered marginally as she blocked the hit with her crowbar.

“That’s another charge of resisting arrest, Miss Gearwise,” said Bradley through gritted teeth. She just laughed wryly.

While Bradley engaged the automaton, Twado bounded to the edge of the platform and grabbed Prince’s sleeve with his teeth, slowly and steadily towing him and Monica up.

Bradley tried to bring his umbrella down onto Mary’s head, but she caught it in her hand. The Detective tried to yank it out of her grasp. She held on.

He recognized too late that he had no way to parry her crowbar now. Mary swung for Bradley’s skull. He reacted quick and tried to evade the blow, but it still clipped the side of his head, knocking his hat askew. He stumbled backwards and clutched his temple, dazed.

Mary grinned viciously and raised her weapon to finish him off, but the look was wiped off her face as someone wrenched her wind-up key. She hissed in displeasure and froze up for a moment as her gears seized, but her disorientation didn’t last long.

The automaton spun around with her smirk replaced with a look of acute loathing. She lashed out and raked Prince across the face with her sharp fingernails before he could respond, leaving several long, bloody gashes behind. A guttural snarl escaped from Mary’s lips as she did, as if it was gravely insulting that the boy would even try to lay his filthy fingers on her key.

She didn’t have time to assault Prince any further, though. Bradley had already come to his senses. He adjusted his hat. Mary glanced over her shoulder as she heard the Detective’s footsteps on the steel stage. She saw movement from the corner of her mechanical eye. Monica and Twado were flanking her from both sides. Even the injured Hadrian had grown tired of being sidelined and was now advancing towards Mary as well.

The automaton whirled around and feinted at Bradley, just to keep him away. She must have realized that at least one of them would get their hands on her wind-up key if she tried to fight them all at once. The mechanisms in Mary’s legs clicked as they engaged. She leapt onto one of the tall stone pillars surrounding the platform, perching on it gracefully.

The group stared up at her. Prince spread his arms in a challenge. “Get the fuck back down here, you bitch!” he roared, his face still bleeding. Mary said nothing. She simply smirked and licked a few drops of blood off her manicured nails.

Monica pulled some gauze out of her first aid kit. Prince irritably tried to shrug her off—“I’m fine”—but she managed to press it onto his face and stem the flow of blood.

Bradley pointed at Mary with his umbrella. “Mary Gearwise, I have reason to believe that you were involved in the disappearance of Larry Clockturn. I demand you reveal his whereabouts at once!”

Mary threw her head back and cackled. “You want to know what happened to Larry? Fine. I’ll show you.” She looked over at the control room and nodded at Markus. He pulled a lever on one of the panels.

There was a harsh grinding sound as the wall to their left slowly parted. They hadn’t noticed it when they came in here, but it was actually an enormous sliding gate.

Everyone backed away as it opened. It might have been some sort of depot, though it was hard to tell though the darkness. The light from a pair of LED eyes pierced through the shadows.

Big ones.

Raucous metallic scraping filled the air as the goliath activated and hauled itself from the ground, exposed gears and levers ticking loudly. Its rugged plating caught the orange glow of the lava beneath.

“What the Hell is that?” cried Prince as the clockwork behemoth took a step forward, making the entire cavern quake.

“It’s the new and improved Larry Clockturn, of course,” Mary declared. Markus emerged from the control room and tossed her violin to her. She started to play again. At the sound of her music, the aperture of the machine’s eye dilated and blazed brightly. Its gaze zeroed in on Prince.

Bradley understood what was happening first. “Prince! Get out of the way!” he hollered.

Crimson light flooded the room as Larry discharged his laser. Prince dived out of the way just in time, but he could still feel the scorching heat against his back as the beam passed him by.

It melted through the steel flooring like butter. The scaffolds holding it up groaned as they started to bend. Prince scrambled to his feet and stared up at Larry as his laser fizzled out. The automaton’s optical receptors contracted to the size of pinpricks and darted around frantically. He seemed almost afraid, but the look vanished almost as soon as it had shown up.

Prince didn’t have time to think about what that meant. The two halves of the stage were dipping away from each other.

The group was separated. Twado leapt across the gap before it became too wide and grabbed the back of Stephanie’s shirt in his mouth, who was slipping down the incline, and lugged her over to Prince and Hadrian. The eldest brother pulled Stephanie into his arms as their half of the platform swayed dangerously above the lava.

Bradley and Monica were trapped on the other side. They looked across at them helplessly. The columns holding them up had thankfully stopped buckling, but there was nowhere to run.

Mary grinned in morbid anticipation as Larry prepared to bisect the platform a second time. His eye dilated again. However, the LED flickered as his laser failed to charge up all the way. Bradley retreated as the beam struck the ground in front of him, but it wasn’t hot enough to melt through the metal.

Mary’s smile faded slightly. “My apologies… I thought I had already disabled his free will. He appears to be resisting my commands. How cute,” she crooned as she drew her crowbar over the strings of her instrument once more.

Larry’s components creaked and juddered as he tried to move, but his gears had locked up. His eye flashed on and off, refusing to even begin charging this time.

Now Mary was scowling. She glared into the control room. Markus shrugged and shook his head at her. She turned towards Larry again just in time to see a masked mafioso clamber onto his shoulder. Mary’s eyes widened in outrage as he thrust his crowbar through a gap in the giant automaton’s casing and triggered his emergency shutdown mechanism.

Chapter VII – AWOL

“Helios.”

Helios frowned. He looked around, but there was no one else in the hallway with him and his troupe. Just the mobsters staring at them through the windows.

“Helios!” the voice hissed again. Oh. It was coming from behind him. Helios slowed his pace and glanced back discreetly, lagging behind the rest of the group. Isaiah was peeking out of the vent they’d come in here from. He beckoned the hacker over.

Helios peered around again. The mobsters seemed to be fixated on the others. He slipped away and reentered the vent before anyone noticed.

“Isaiah? I thought you were done with us,” Helios whispered.

“I changed my mind. We have to move,” Isaiah replied. Helios trailed him cautiously.

“Why? Where are we going?”

“Mary called almost everyone in the base to the primary control room. Her lab is pretty much unguarded, so I decided to snoop around a little bit. I found Larry. Deactivated. Chassis ripped wide open,” Isaiah recounted, knitting his brow as he recalled the scene. “I found the blueprints for his new body.”

“New body? What are you saying?”

“I’m getting to that part! Mary cut his heart out. She made him a new body that she could control. The thing is giant. She’s using his heart as the energy source, and the heart is him, so his original body isn’t gonna wake up without it. She’s going to use the new one on your pals. They have no chance.”

“And we’re just letting them walk into the trap?”

“I need them to stall her, and she was going to lock the base down and have her lackeys kill them anyway if they didn’t show up. I have a plan. Larry’s new body has computerized parts, not just clockwork ones. It helps her control him, but it also means he can be hacked. I’m taking you to the lab. There’s a console there that she used to test him out. It’s got the blueprints in it and everything. I think you can use it to access his network, but you have to deactivate the lava pipeline system first… we don’t want your buddies getting their legs burnt to a crisp before they even see the big guy. I need you to get him to stay still long enough for me to reach him and trip his e-stop. Got it?”

“Yeah, I think I can do that.”

“Good.” Isaiah stopped in front of the spot where a ventilation panel used to be, but he must have broken it open already while he’d been sneaking around. He climbed out and showed Helios the console. “This is the place. Try to do this quietly. There are still a couple guards outside the door,” he whispered to Helios. The mobster thrust a two-way radio into his hands. “Use that to tell me when Larry is immobilized.”

Helios nodded, but Isaiah was already reentering the vent, leaving him on his own. The hacker cracked his knuckles and got to work.

Chapter VIII – System Reboot

Prince watched as Larry shut down and toppled backwards. It reminded the boy of when he’d beaten the automaton in the sewers, but the ensuing impact was much, much louder this time when he hit the ground.

Mary threw her violin at Markus. “Deal with that traitor!” she thundered at him. The Warden reentered the control room and sent some of the operators away. They ran through the door, heading for Larry’s depot. The masked mobster was standing on Larry’s chest now, trying to pry one of the plates open. It had to be Isaiah.

“What are you doing, man? Mind getting us off of this platform?” Prince called out.

Isaiah glanced up at him and held up a finger. Wait.

Prince turned around as a mechanical hum filled the cave. He’d expected Mary to jump down and confront the group, but she was still glowering down at them from the stone pillar. The noise had to be coming from her.

The temperature in the formerly stifling cavern was dropping fast. Prince looked up as a raindrop hit his face. Were those clouds?

“She’s got a weather machine built into her!” Bradley realized as lightning struck the ground right in front of him. An indoor tempest was brewing.

Isaiah got Larry’s chassis open and heaved the metal plate away until the gap was large enough for him to fit inside. His gaze scanned the internal hardware until he spotted the automaton’s clockwork heart. It was strangely amusing how such a comparatively small gadget had been powering a giant robot. He lowered himself through the gears and circuitry until it was within reach and gingerly disconnected the tubes and cables holding it in place. The ticking of the mechanism’s gears slowed down as he removed it. An iridescent mystery liquid sloshed around inside the heart’s windowed ventricles as Isaiah climbed back out of the chassis.

The lava sizzled as rain pattered against it. Prince could feel the electricity in the air before lightning hit the spot where he’d been standing moments before. “Dude! What’s the situation?” he yelled at Isaiah.

Isaiah was too absorbed in his task to respond. He’d already dragged Larry’s real body into the depot before he’d gone to fetch Helios, but he didn’t have a lot of time. He was screwed if the other mafiosos made it here before he had Larry operational. Isaiah sprinted to the corner where he’d left the automaton with the heart in his hands and stooped down to set it back in Larry’s chest cavity. It clicked into place.

The mobster stuck his hand under his suit and felt around for the brazing torch and rod he’d brought with him. He fumbled with the hose for a second before he inserted it into the fuel cylinders on the ground and lit the torch, carefully soldering Larry’s tubes and pipes back onto his heart.

A gale was beginning to pick up. Bradley rolled out of the way as a fork of lightning targeted him again. The wind buffeted him, but perhaps that was a good thing.

The Detective opened his umbrella. The motor inside it began to rumble. He held it up and let a gust carry him towards Mary. She took a swipe at him with her crowbar as he neared, but he veered out of the way and landed behind her. He grabbed her key and twisted it counterclockwise a second time before Mary could do anything about it.

Mary winced as she turned and swung her crowbar wide, striking Bradley in the side. He grunted in discomfort and tumbled from the pillar as the vent cover above Mary popped off and smacked against her head. Pete jumped through and landed on her, casting her down from the pillar as well before he reentered the ventilation shaft and vanished again.

Bradley drifted to the floor with his umbrella and gently touched his feet to the ground next to Monica. Mary hit the ground on the other end of the platform with a crash. She groaned in discomfort as she heaved herself to her feet, but her grousing quickly became a snarl as she stalked towards the Detective.

Pete soon emerged from a vent in the depot. He hastily scrawled something across his whiteboard as he rushed to Isaiah: HURRY THEY ARE ALMOST HERE

Larry’s golden eyes blinked on as Isaiah made the last connection. He sat up immediately and wrapped his huge hand around the mobster’s throat. Isaiah dropped his brazing torch to pry the automaton’s fingers away.

“Get your hands off of me, you asshole! I’m trying to help you!” Isaiah snapped.

Larry’s eyes widened slightly, as if he was surprised to hear Isaiah’s voice coming from behind that mask. The automaton glanced down at his chassis, still wide open. He reluctantly released Isaiah and lay down again. “Get on with it, then,” he spat, still glaring.

Isaiah picked up the sheet of metal that Mary had cleaved away from Larry’s casing and placed it over his chest. He picked up the torch again and slowly ran it along the seams. The automaton tensed up at the searing heat, but he held still.

Isaiah had barely finished when Larry shoved the mobster away and got to his feet. He’d secured the plate just in time, too, because the mafiosos that Markus had sent came charging through the depot doors as Larry buttoned up his shirt and picked up his crowbar.

The mafiosos skidded to a standstill when they saw the reactivated Larry standing before them, tall and terrible. He swung his crowbar into the closest one’s abdomen with quite a bit more strength than necessary, burying the curved end in his innards. There was a nauseating squelch and a strangled yelp from the mobster. A section of his viscera came out with Larry’s crowbar as the automaton pulled it free. The others turned tail and ran back the way they’d came as their comrade collapsed into a convulsing heap, too afraid to even try to fight him.

Isaiah made a disgusted noise. “Ugh. That was overkill,” he mumbled as he kicked the whimpering mafioso into the lava. Larry paid him no mind. He turned to the platform. Mary wasn’t the only one who could leap high. He cleared the gap easily and landed right behind her.

The platform shook as his shoes met the steel platform. The scaffolds finally buckled, sending his end of the stage plunging. He was prepared for that. Mary wasn’t. She lost her balance as the platform sank slowly into the molten rock.

Larry grabbed his tormentor with both hands and hurled her into the lava.

Chapter IX – Exit Path

The mafiosos could only watch as Mary disappeared into the molten rock. Markus stared in disbelief until there was a stir in the control room. The mobsters began quarrelling… then they drew weapons on each other. A brawl broke out.

They were fighting amongst themselves. Prince realized as a splatter of blood hit the windowpane that Larry’s old goons must have wanted him back in charge.

Bradley unfurled his umbrella again before the gale storm died down completely. He took Monica’s hand. They both glided into the depot.

The Detective grabbed hold of the metal plate that Isaiah had removed from the behemoth earlier. “Help me move this thing,” he called out to the others.

They lugged the plate towards the edge of the pit and pushed it outwards until it met Prince’s half of the platform. It wobbled precariously, but they held it down as Prince crossed the improvised bridge with Stephanie in his arms. Hadrian and Twado followed from behind. Larry jumped back into the depot as well, landing disconcertingly close to the group. The kids shrank away as Bradley stepped in front of them protectively and pointed at the automaton. Larry raised an artificial eyebrow.

“Larry Clockturn, you are under arrest for-”

Pete bonked the Detective on the head with his whiteboard.

“Ow. What? He’s wanted for hundreds of felonies.”

The elevator is still disabled. We need his help finding our way out, Pete wrote.

“Yeah, I know a different exit,” Larry muttered, but he nonetheless looked mildly annoyed when the group started following him.

They trailed behind the crime boss—well, ex-crime boss—hesitantly. “We still need to get Helios,” Isaiah mentioned. Before they reached the door, however, they heard the sound of metal scraping against metal. Larry turned back towards the platform.

Mary was clawing her way back up, her pearlescent façade burnt away by the lava, revealing her brassy gold casing. Patches of paint still clung to her, scorched black. She glanced back at Larry warily as she climbed high enough to jump back onto the pillar, then onto the mezzanine. The mobsters had already fled the control room, but she ran inside and disappeared from sight. Fury flared in Larry’s golden eyes as he barreled through the depot doors to pursue her.

Everyone ran out the doorway after him. They were back in the corridor with the disabled elevator, but Larry ran in a different direction.

“Where are you going?” Prince yelled. The automaton didn’t reply.

“There’s an old mineshaft leading to the surface in this direction,” Isaiah answered instead. “It’s always been sealed, but Mary must’ve opened it to escape. There’s no other way.”

They came upon the control room where Isaiah had left Helios, but Larry didn’t wait up as they pushed the doors open to find him.

“Helios, we have to…”

Isaiah trailed off. The room was empty.

“Helios?” the mobster called out. There was no reply. He tried contacting him with his radio, but the hacker didn’t respond to that either.

“We have to move before we lose Larry. Maybe Helios escaped already. Come on,” Bradley said as he ran back outside.

They caught up with Larry as he arrived at the gate to the mine. The blast doors were already open. Mary was on the other side of the decaying tunnel, hovering over Helios, watching him as he knelt in front of the keypad next to the elevator and desperately tried to crack the activation code. She seized the hacker in a chokehold and turned towards the group as she heard Larry’s heavy footsteps approaching.

“Come any closer and he dies!” Mary screeched at them. Larry didn’t seem too worried about that, but Bradley grabbed his arm to stop him from advancing.

“Let him go, Miss Gearwise. We just want to leave this place,” Bradley tried to reason.

Mary laughed, her eyes wide and manic. “Leave? You’re the ones who intruded upon my base in the first place. Slaughtered dozens of my agents. Do you know how much time I spent working on Larry? You brats have ruined everything,” she hissed as she tightened her grip around Helios’s throat. He scrabbled uselessly as her arm, eyes bulging as Mary crushed his windpipe.

Prince gritted his teeth. Mary’s words sent his thoughts racing. The gang of mobsters they’d encountered in the upper levels, even though there was no surveillance there. The door that had malfunctioned and trapped them. The lightning storm outside that had driven them here in the first place, even though the weather forecast had predicted clear skies. Mary’s weather machine…

“No. You lured us in here,” Prince murmured.

Mary narrowed her eyes. “What are you talking about?” she snapped.

“That’s why you knew we were here when the cameras were offline. You caused that storm outside. You took that tree down with your lightning. You had that barricade set up on the trail, so we’d come here for shelter,” Prince spoke louder. “You made the door short circuit with your lightning instead of shutting it remotely so we wouldn’t get suspicious…  and rigged those pipes to blow and cut us off in the upper levels, so we’d walk right into those mobsters. You knew we were here the whole time. You set us up!” he finished, jabbing an accusing finger at Mary.

Mary’s lips slowly curved into a smirk as Prince spoke. “Clever boy.”

“Why?” he demanded.

“I needed someone to test my creation on, and you are the ones who deactivated Larry. I couldn’t leave you alive,” Mary stated. Helios wheezed for breath as she loosened her grip ever so slightly.

Bradley shook his head. “Rubbish. I know for a fact you never cared for Larry. It was the Headmaster who ordered their deaths, wasn’t it?”

Mary’s eyelid twitched at the mention of her superior. She ignored the Detective. “Larry, tell me the elevator’s code and I’ll let Helios go,” she said as she nodded at the dilapidated cage elevator and tightened her stranglehold on the young man.

Larry sneered and tried to press forward. Bradley held him back. The automaton’s gears clanked in frustration as he lifted his crowbar to beat the Detective away, but Isaiah elbowed his way to the forefront of the group before a fight could break out. “How about you think about someone other than your fucking self for once?” the mobster whispered harshly as he shook Larry’s shoulder. The automaton griped inaudibly and hardly budged as Isaiah jostled him, but he got the point.

“0625,” he begrudgingly told Mary.

Helios gasped for air as Mary finally removed one arm from his neck and punched the code into the keypad. The rusty elevator doors squealed as they parted. He tried to break away from her grasp, but he yelped as she grabbed the collar of his jacket and yanked him into the elevator after her. “Oh, no, you’re coming with me,” Mary muttered venomously.

“Hey! You said you’d let him go!” Prince yelled angrily from the other side of the tunnel.

Mary just flashed a grin at him and waved at him as the doors shut. The elevator creaked and rumbled up the mineshaft.

She was gone.

Epilogue

There was nothing to do except wait in morose silence for the elevator to return underground. Prince kept starting at the entrance to the mine, worried that some of Mary’s loyalists might show up, but none did.

The mood relaxed a little bit as Twado stood on his hindquarters and pawed Larry’s legs, whining for attention. He’d been too preoccupied to pay attention earlier, but now the automaton reached down and ruffled the fur on the dog’s head. “Glad to see you too, Twado.”

“He knows you?” Prince asked, surprised.

“He was my guard dog when I ran this place. But he looks like Mary had him thrown outside,” he muttered, shaking his head at Twado’s grubby coat.

The elevator doors squeaked open as the carriage arrived. Prince picked up Helios’s sunglasses from the floor. One of the lenses was cracked. He slipped them in his pocket as the elevator closed and started to carry everyone to the surface. Maybe he’d get to return them eventually if the hacker was still alive.

Isaiah went to sit on an old crate, but Larry pushed him aside. “Is that coal? Finally,” said the automaton as he ripped the lid off and shoved a handful of the stuff into his jaws. The kids watched with profound bewilderment.

“What? You didn’t think I was actually spring powered, did you?” he chuckled. The wind-up key on his back rotated ever so slightly. “This is just a kill switch. I have a steam engine.”

I thought your heart was your energy supply? wrote Pete.

There was a whoosh as the fuel caught aflame in Larry’s firebox. “It’s for emergencies. When I run out of real fuel.”

“It seemed like it was working fine before,” Prince remarked.

“You people ask too many damn questions.”

“No kidding,” Isaiah muttered.

Bradley answered instead. “The heart works too well. It will grind his gears to dust if he relies on it forever.” Larry scowled at him, but the Detective didn’t seem phased. “What are you going to do now?”

Larry was caught off guard by the question. “What do you mean?”

“I thought you’d retake control of the base. Why didn’t you?” Bradley added.

The automaton laughed bitterly. “Give me a break. Do you have any idea what they’ve been doing to me down here? They can fuck themselves.”

“You’re just now realizing that? You were just fine with their shit before you were the one getting tortured,” Isaiah scoffed, but his temper dissolved into a sulk as soon as Larry shot him a look.

“OK, time for you guys to tell us what your problem is. You said you joined the mafia during the last purge,” Prince cut in, pointing a finger at Isaiah, “but you keep acting like you’ve been here a lot longer than that. What’s the deal?”

Neither Larry nor Isaiah answered, but Bradley looked back and forth between the two of them a few times. “Isaiah is your son?” he surmised.

Isaiah grimaced as the Detective said it. Larry punched the wall next to Bradley’s head, rocking the entire carriage and leaving a dent in the metal. Stephanie clung to Prince. Twado barked and scurried around as the lonely light bulb flickered and swayed on its wire above them. Bradley was looking pissed, but he didn’t retaliate—this was neither the time nor place for a fight, and Isaiah surely felt the same, because he walked between them and stared Larry down until he backed off.

“Guess that was a yes,” said Hadrian. Monica thumped him on the side of the head.

The mood was somehow even more sullen now. Larry had withdrawn to the corner of the elevator. He looked lost in his thoughts, but they couldn’t stay silent forever.

“What do we do?” Prince asked.

“I would call in a raid on this base right now, but we’d have to find some cell signal for that,” Bradley said.

“It’s not a good time,” Larry argued. “The next purge is in eight days.”

Hadrian groaned. “The next purge? You guys do that every year?”

“Shut it. I’m not finished. We need to get somewhere safe. You’re all in even more danger than last time if the Headmaster put a hit on you.”

That name again. “Who the hell is the Headmaster?” Prince questioned.

“He’s the one pulling the strings in all this. It was him who turned Larry and Mary into these,” Bradley responded, motioning to the automaton. “And those two aren’t the only ones who have been subjected to the procedure. I don’t suppose you were privy to his ultimate plans, were you?” he asked Larry.

 Larry scowled at the question, but there was a hint of melancholy on his metallic features. “No, I wasn’t. But that’s not important right now. I know where a safehouse is,” he said as the elevator finally reached the surface. Everyone stepped out as the sun peeked over the horizon. The storm had died out into a light sprinkling of rain.

A couple of miscreants crouched in the dense trees and vegetation, concealed from view. One of them observed the new arrivals through his binoculars as they exited the carriage.

“Well, what do ya know?” said one of them.

“What? Luke, what do you see?”

“Mr. Clockturn made it out… but he looks to be defecting. What a shame, what a shame,” replied Luke, though he didn’t sound very saddened with that.

Brooke laughed. “Somehow, that doesn’t surprise me. Are we gonna take him down or what?”

“Don’t be rash, Brooke. He’s not alone. The meddlers are with him, and there’s gonna be a better opportunity soon. The next purge is coming right up.” the boy said as he stood up. Brooke snatched his binoculars and took a look at the group for herself.

“Come on. Those shrimps have nothing! We can take them,” she protested.

Luke shook his head and started walking away. “No. Last thing we need is to blow our first major assignment.”

Brooke grumbled in discontent, but she acquiesced and followed her brother deeper into the woods.

“Fine. Let them think they’re safe… for now.”

[boatem-probler]

That There's a Choopah Cobbler in... Tokyo Soul!

1 / You Are Here! / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9

Hello once again dear readers! Al Boatem-Probler here to bring you another report on this mid-2010s Minecraft roleplay series.

Everyone's favorite boy is here, which means I will now be keeping track of Deaths Witnessed, Injuries Sustained, and Other Traumatic Events, the way @paranoidpug did in her own summaries. Not to mention, I've gotten to the episodes that haven't been covered in @sketchygainedyoursoul's summaries! Very exciting!

This report contains mentions/discussion of: scatological humor, violence, guns, stalking, harassment, and Professor Geode Rocks.

Previously on Tokyo Soul:

“STOP DROP AND RICKROLL” – Dom

“Fish are just flowers that swim in the ocean.” – Taurtis

“I’ve never felt so unsafe in my life.” – Taurtis

This Time...

Episode 6 – THE NEW GIRL!

I forgot to write this down last time, but it’s been established that Taurtis can and WILL fall asleep literally anywhere. I was reminded of this because Sam decided to sleep in Taurtis’s bedroom, while Taurtis fell asleep standing up directly outside the door.

Sam attempts to wake him up by enticing him to eat the sushi that has been sitting on their kitchen table for over a day now.

Sam insists he can see the creepy old man hiding behind a wall near their house. Taurtis insists he’s crazy. In a break from form, Sam is actually telling the complete truth this time.

Dom is putting the horrible old sushi on a bagel. Just thought you guys should know this.

They know what happened to Grian now, he went to the other Tokyo, you know, the one in Canada.

Sam: “Do you remember Grian? He’s lived with us for a very long time?” Taurtis: “That guy with the glasses, who had that rocket ship? Yeah, the rich person!” I think this is probably referencing the Yandere prequel thing? IIRC they were doing it at the same time as Tokyo Soul, but I’d have to check to be sure.

Checking the dates on the episodes… oh dang this one went up on Christmas Eve. Grian Christmas Present Momence. Okay, the first episode of Yandere went up nearly four months after this episode, so uh… in conclusion I have no idea what’s going on with this dialogue. Interesting.

Dom calls Grian “the Friendly Kid”.

Anyway they go to pick Grian up from the train station. I can’t tell if this is a different train station or if the name of it has changed between episodes.

GRIAN’S HERE!!!!!

Grian: “I don’t know whooooo was responsible for that. But you sent me halfway round the globe.” Sam: “Why are you looking at me when you say that, it wasn’t my fault!” Grian: “I just feel like… you just gave me the wrong ticket, that’s all.” Sam: “I put ‘em all in a box, I shook ‘em up, and I randomly drew one.” Grian: “And two of them went to Tokyo, Japan, and one of them went to Tokyo, Canada.”

I just had to relate nearly all of that conversation because right now I feel like any of it or none of it could be true. Because playing Russian Roulette with their plane tickets is some shit Sam would do I think, but intentionally giving Grian the wrong ticket and lying about it is also some shit Sam would do I think. So I’m just like, putting it out there for public debate.

Taurtis: “How long did it take you to realize that it wasn’t actually Japan?” Grian: “When I was on the plane, and they said Welcome to Canada.”

Apparently Grian had to spend all of his own money on the plane ticket back from Canada.

Taurtis: “How do you get your face caught in a blender?” Grian: “It happened One Time.”

They notice Geode walking to school. It seems he lives in a house with some kind of weird construction on top of it that is perpetually on fire.

Sam makes Grian show them the way to the school he hasn’t been to yet. Grian ends up asking Igbar von Squid again.

Hey whatever texture pack these guys are using has a really good nighttime skybox! This shit is pretty!

Sam’s mom texts him apparently???? I wasn’t aware she existed.

Sam and Taurtis nonchalantly introduce Grian to the creepy old man. Grian is appropriately terrified.

A new student turns up, named Yee, who’s Minecraft skin is I think supposed to be Monster Kid from Undertale. They have immediately started hitting on… one of the boys, it’s unclear which.

There is a circle of blood around a sheep’s head inside the school.

Grian: “Ooh, this school is an upgrade… [walks around the corner] Ohhhkay I take back what I said.”

Ah, apologies, it’s a goat’s head. Someone killed one of Señor Loro’s goats.

Regardless, Sam and Taurtis make Grian wrestle for his class schedule. Grian legitimately sounds terrified the whole time. Señor Loro accidentally punches a hole in the wall and runs off in shame.

Ohhhhkay, the creepy old man is IN the school, WEARING a girl’s school uniform.

Taurtis and Sam attempt to pressure Grian into going over to talk to him. It actually doesn’t entirely work, they end up all going over there. Taurtis and Sam attempt to set up the two “newbies”.

Taurtis: “Grian, you like girls, right?” Grian: “No, I’m into dudes.”

Ellen was Grian’s baby gay awakening. Taurtis immediately wants to know who Grian thinks is cuter, him or Sam. “You guys are just not my type,” Grian says. He does however admit that Taurtis has “some good glutes”.

Geode is collecting the goat blood from the floor. I cannot stress enough that Geode looks aggressively normal. He is wearing the blandest suit and has the blandest haircut imaginable.

Grian’s locker is absurdly far away from everyone else’s. Like down multiple hallways.

Episode 7 – SENOR LORO!

Tori tells Sam off for punching another kid who came in late. She is the only reasonable teacher in this school probably.

Tori is taking them fishing this class.

They walk past the girl’s bathroom next to the pool because Tori is lost. There is another goat head in it. Sam and Taurtis decide to take the head with them, in case they run into Señor Loro. Grian is worried he’ll think they killed it.

They continue to the pond behind the school, where they are given fishing rods to use. For some reason, the fishing rods sound like guns. I feel like this wasn’t intentional.

Creepy man sighted once again. Sam is now calling him Grian’s “girlfriend”.

Not Dying Class! Nurse MD has decided to call Grian “Mr. BoyMan”. Today, they are competing in a Food Pyramid Scavenger Hunt for the prize of a lifetime subscription to Hunter x Hunter. Their homework is to eat at least one item on the food pyramid. Grian is mad that their teacher isn’t teaching them anything.

Sam and Taurtis terrorize Grian with, uh, Bathroom Chocolate. Grian throws up a couple times. To be honest I’m not entirely sure what Sam and Taurtis are and aren’t doing In The Fiction so to speak, but Grian definitely vomited, so I feel I must put this on the record.

The principal has been sighted by the vending machine! Grian disagrees with his staffing choices, and tells him so, very vehemently. The principal gives Nurse MD a raise. Nurse MD gives Grian detention.

Nurse MD: “Go to the guidance counselor to get your attitude in check.” Grian: “You need to go back to university to get your degree sorted.”

Grian: “Dr. Nurse MD has to be there while I do the detention, sucks to be him!”

Apparently Nurse MD is allowed to just lock him in a room, actually. Also half the school was filming this altercation from the courtyard.

Sam: “I think that’s going up on YouCrab later.” Grian: “Good, I want everyone to know what useless staff they have here.”

Apparently “this sort of thing really triggers” Grian, this sort of thing presumably being incompetent teachers. He’s sort of using “trigger” flippantly here, but like, you could very well argue it’s true.

Oh, apparently “detention” means you have to wrestle Señor Loro. At least Sam legitimately offers to tag in for Grian (after a little while enthusiastically cheering for Señor Loro to “give him the ol’ one-two”).

They tell Señor Loro about the second Goat Murder, and he asks them to help him look for the rest of his missing goats. He gives them each a “Crystal of Tenochtitlan” whatever that means. Oh, apparently they allow you to talk to animals.

Episode 8 – GIRLFRIEND?!

Instead of searching for Señor Loro’s goats, the boys attempt to figure out which one of them Yee keeps hitting on. It’s Grian! Sam immediately tells Grian he should ask Yee to take off her glasses so they can see if she’s a lizard person. She does. She is a lizard person, and not Monster Kid as I had previously thought. In my defense, Sans Undertale has literally been in the background of several scenes already. Grian is spooked, Yee is angry, Sam has never laughed this hard in his life (according to Sam). I think they’re all being a bit mean.

Gym class is a competitive obstacle course, Girls (easy) vs Stupid Boys (difficult).

On the way to Professor Geode’s class, Sam and Taurtis tell Grian what happened last time (roughly). Grian is very apprehensive.

Geode collects everyone’s trash. The classroom has been slightly rearranged. There is now some sort of… operating table? In the center, with all the chairs arranged around it. Dom is in a giant test tube in the back. Taurtis is given a Special chair next to Geode’s throne.

Sam is told to “COLLECT THE MILK OF THE INNOCENT ONE”. This means Dom, apparently. When Sam fails to do this, Geode does it instead. I don’t know exactly what this entails, because Sam wasn’t looking at it, because Sam is not a very good cameraman. But I suspect that the limitations of Minecraft would still leave me scratching my head if I had seen it. Dom can be heard to take damage, but that’s all the information I can give you.

Geode throws onto the operating table, which I’m beginning to suspect is more of an altar: Milk of the Innocent, Toilet Paper, Rare Crystals, and Hair of the Chosen One.

This apparently clones Taurtis, somehow, although there appears to still be only one Taurtis in the room.

Geode does not offer any explanation, he’s too busy being confused by Grian’s accent and not knowing what England is. I’m… also not entirely sure he knew what a clone is either, before Sam explained that he’s not Uncle Sam because some people can have the same name.

Oh also Google Docs tried to autocorrect “Geode” to “God” I just feel like you all should know that.

Episode 9 – INTERNET DATING!

I am now officially into New Territory, not covered by previous summaries!

They try to free Dom from the test tube and the stained glass texture SERIOUSLY bugs out.

There is. Ah. Some sort of. Sheep… cultist… possibly robot? In the hallway. It has some sort of… mechanical backpack on?

Apparently its name is Jorje the Special Goat. So this is what breaks me.

I don’t know why I’m so stuck on this, I’m usually great at stories where Things Just Happen.

Anyway, Jorje has a dire need to go to the computer room to talk to his girlfriend.

“Is your girlfriend single?” – Taurtis Minecraft, 2015

The gang try to convince Jorje to break up with his internet girlfriend and/or that his internet girlfriend is catfishing him, so that he will tell them what he knows about the Goat Murders.

Dom is just. Up on a rooftop, by the way. He keeps doing this.

It turns out that not only is Jorje’s internet girlfriend a real person, but they’re also a person of ambiguous gender and probably a furry, which are some pretty big plusses in my book. It seems like they didn’t know Jorje was Actually For Real A Goat, though.

But the boys do manage to get some information on the Goat Murders, so that’s nice. Apparently there’s some sort of Creature or perhaps a Beast underneath the soccer field at school.

“That there’s a Choopah Cobbler!” – Jorje

Actually he called it a “chuubakaabra” but potato, potato.

They tell Señor Loro about the chupacabra. Señor Loro hands them guns. Peachy. At least this time it’s Grian who accidentally shoots Taurtis.

Sam then shoots Taurtis on purpose.

There’s an item in Señor Loro’s vending machine called “Fully Cooked Ramen?” and I’m losing it.

Grian: “Hey, Mr. Principal! :) Your teacher gave us snipers! :) I don’t know what kind of circus you’re running here! :)”

Episode 10 – HUNTING A MONSTER!

Half the school is at this soccer field this feels so dangerous.

Taurtis is just shooting wildly.

Uhhhh. That there’s a Choopah Cobbler!

I promise I’ll stop saying “that there’s a Choopah Cobbler”.

Everyone tries to shoot at the chupacabra through a very narrow doorway. They mostly just end up shooting each other.

The chupacabra flees into the sewers. Dom is also in the sewers. He goes there to read.

They lose the chupacabra, briefly mistaking the creepy old man for it.

“Can I shoot him anyway? I reeeeeaaalllly wanna shoot him.” – Grian

Kurokuma: “Uh, you didn’t find any bodies, did you?” Grian: “Not yet!”

He doesn’t, in fact, shoot the creepy old man. Score one for morals, I guess. :/

Half the damn town is in these sewers.

They shoot at a “sugar dealer”, agree to say they were the chupacabra and call it a day. They then attempt to exit the sewers, which takes some time because whoever made the map didn’t account for the ways in which ladders interact with trapdoors in Minecraft.

They’ve emerged in a completely unfamiliar part of town, and it’s getting late, so Señor Loro suggests they stay in a hotel for the night, and WHY IS THE CREEPY OLD MAN AT THE FRONT DESK. Like, this place is swanky.

The old man makes a comment about setting up cameras in their rooms. Great note to end this part on.

Grian Trauma Count!

Deaths Witnessed:

Aftermath of 2 Goat Murders

Injuries Sustained:

Grian jokingly implied that he got his face caught in a blender once

Likely some bruises from wrestling Señor Loro

Shot in the leg by Sam, who was aiming for the chupacabra

Shot by Senior Loro, apparently on purpose?

Traumatic Events:

Sent, possibly on purpose, to a completely different country without any of the people he knew, and had to use his own money (all of it) to get back where he was supposed to go

Stalked and sexually harassed by a creepy old man (he keeps making comments about the characters’ legs). Also forced by his friends to actually speak to said creepy old man.

Vomited twice due to Sam and Taurtis being gross.

Punished for calling out his teacher’s incompetence and made to wrestle the guidance counselor.

Was handed a gun by one of his teachers again (and accidentally shot Taurtis), and brought on a monster hunt.

Geode’s Class is a traumatic event in itself.

Some pretty big numbers already, folks!

Something I think is interesting: before Grian arrives, both Sam and Taurtis are pretty vocally uncomfortable with Old Kurokuma, but as soon as Grian's with them, Kurokuma is suddenly "our friend who runs the panty shop", "Grian's Girlfriend", "Grian why are you uncomfortable, this is a completely normal schoolgirl, she said teehee".

I feel like I still need to chew on this a bit more to be able to actually say anything analytical about it, but it's definitely catching my attention.

Next Time...

"I'll do one post per school day," I say, and then they almost immediately stop going to school for an arc.

[lexiklecksi]

Monster

Genre: horror, pov: first person, word count: 1419, trigger warnings: monster, suicidal ideation, mental illness, paranoia, car crash

Months ago, I wrote the first few sentences of this horror short story and saved it in my notes. Today, I finished writing it. I hope you like this change of genre and give it a read!

Lights are blinding me. I flinch, holding a hand out against the white light coming closer. An engine breaks through the silence of the night. I squint and suddenly there's a car moving towards me at high speed. I stumble to the side, my heart racing. How did I end up here? In the middle of a crossroad. My fingers ache, so I flex them, slowly gazing down while my sight is still flickering from the headlights. Something warm trickles down my hand, it oozes onto the grass where I'm crouching. What is this? A realization hits me: It's blood, and it's not mine. What happened? My head hurts. The texture of the grass beneath me feels soothing. I want to lie down and never get up again. My back hurts like a thousand needles are pricking it. I roll onto my side and let out a heavy sigh. The air is freezing, my breath turns cold. Everything hurts. Oh please make it stop.

A high-pitched scream pierces the air and I cover my ears, but it only makes it louder. Am I screaming? Something flickers behind my eyes, my vision blurs and then I suddenly see it. The monster. It stared at me with overbearing eyes, saliva dripping down its chin, the hairy forearms and a breath that tastes like death. I thought I escaped, isn't that why I'm on the road? How could it find me? Wherever I go, it always follows me. You can run, but you cannot hide. A deafening scream escapes my sore throat. This time, I know it's me. A cry for help, but no one will hear it. This road is deserted in the middle of the night. Achingly, I try to stand up again. My legs turned into jelly, I fall down on my knees. Everything hurts. Worst of all, my head hurts. My head always hurts, but something feels different. Thoughts are chasing each other by the tail, but I can't grab any of them. My mind remains a blank slate, preparing itself to be eaten by the monster. Despite the brain fog, a thought emerges. A command: Run! Run! Run!

On all fours, I'm crawling towards the street. Pain shoots like an arrow to my knees, but I force my legs to stand up again. The monster is lurking in the dark, chuckling at my desperate attempts to save myself. Am I even worth saving? She told me I was beyond saving. Before it all went wrong, she tried. I'm thankful she tried, even though I don't deserve such kindness. She said, I don't hate you, I just want to save you while there's still something left to save. We compared scars. She said, I'll show you mine if you show me yours first. My body is a haunted house, only a few would dare to visit it. I can cry about the sorry remains of myself another time. Now I need to focus on saving myself. Though, it would be so much easier to give in, to accept my fate of being eaten by a monster. What's there to live for anyway? Since she left, I have been lying in my bed like it's a deathbed. My feet are still running down the road. Where am I going? There is no escape from the monster. It's roaring laughter keeps haunting me, trailing behind the line of blood drops I'm leaving on the road. So much blood. Bloody hell, I am such a loser. When they finally found my mangled body on the road, there will be no way to recognize me. There is no one left to recognize me anyway. And I would spare her the look of my fucked up body. Of my remains they scraped from the road and put on a steel table under a harsh white light. I can picture it so well as if I'm already dead.

Am I dead yet? Is this nightmare ever going to end? I haven't slept in weeks. Once upon a time, the night was my friend. It welcomed me into its warm embrace after an exhausting day. I didn't feel lonely, even though I was alone. I didn't question the natural order of life back then. That was before she came into my life. She taught me that my life was lonely and she was the missing puzzle piece to my happiness. Then she left me in pieces, shattered glass on the ground, drops of blood smeared on the mirror. How can anyone be so cruel to love me? What a sick joke love is. Everyone wants to be loved, right? I'd rather have people hate me, it's less cruel for my broken heart. Tree after tree passes me as I stumble down the road, the monster slowly walking behind me. It is taking its time because it knows it will catch me. Like a cat with a mouse, it's playing with me. Giving me just enough hope to keep on going. Even though we both know how this will end. There is no chance I make it out alive. I won't see another sunrise. How sad that I didn't appreciate the last sunrise.

A distant memory of sunshine on my scarred skin. A warm embrace on a cold day. I'm shivering as it starts raining. The hairy monster shakes the rain off its fur. It smiles at me, like a friend. I know better than to trust that smile. Friends become enemies very quickly. They cared for me, a long time ago. They stopped visiting me in the hospital a few weeks after … the incident. Not only that, but they couldn't understand that I'm still sick. That there is no cure for this kind of disease. It's eating my brain inside out. It's tearing at my flesh and no matter what the doctors tried, they couldn't help. The only visitor that kept coming was the monster. Somehow it managed to get past hospital security. Somehow it was invisible to others. All that doesn't matter. It's real, it's here and it is still going to feast on me. Blinded by the lights. A honk, screeching tires, then the road falls on my face. Darkness engulfs me.

Muffled voices near my ear, a hand checking for a pulse on my slit wrist. “Oh shit, oh shit! Is he okay?” Then a deeper voice shouts: “Darling, call an ambulance! He lost a lot of blood!” Footsteps approaching. “Shit, I didn't see him! Why was he walking on the road at midnight?” Yes indeed, why? The monster! How could I forget about the monster! I open my mouth, but just a gurgling sound escapes. “He's trying to speak! Move closer!”, the deep voice commands. “The monster … look out … can't escape … it will eat us all”, I manage to mumble under my breath. “Honey, what is he talking about? There is no monster, is it? The road is empty!”, she says, confused. Idiots! We are all going to die. More food for the monster, that must make it happy. At least one of us will be happy. I will never be happy again. Sirens in the distance. “Oh, thank God, the ambulance is coming!”, he shouts out, relieved. “Please just leave me to die here”, I whisper into the darkness.

A hand holds mine. “No, stay with me, buddy. You will live. The ambulance is nearly here. Don't give up yet! You will live, I promise!”, he speaks softly yet eagerly in my ear. Tears are running down my face. “I want to die”, I whisper in the direction of the voice. “You won't die tonight”, he reassures me. Then four strong arms lift me up. “His pulse is steady, but he lost a lot of blood. Give me some bandages! And open his vein for me, I need to inject”, one says to the other. The monster smiles his devilish smile and waves me goodbye. “Please don't leave me”, I cry out. “I'm right here”, says someone. “Stay with me”, someone begs me. It sounds just like her … impossible, it can't be her! She was taken by the monster a month ago. “He's got a hospital bracelet!”, someone shouts. “Great, where are we taking him?” Someone grabs my wrist. “It says: Mental Ayslum Georgetown.” A cough of disbelief. “Didn't that close down years ago?” Hands are grabbing my body, rearranging it. “Let's just drive him to the nearest hospital then.” Lights are blinding me, then darkness engulfs me.

Tag list: Never miss a poem or a short story I write! Comment + if you want to be added or - to be removed from my tag list. @matcha-chai @dg-fragments @silversynthesis @heartofmuse @scatteredthoughts2 @rhapsodyinblue80 @alaskaisnothere @stoic-words @september-stardust @wordsforsadpeeps @writingitdown @intothevortex @aubriestar @warriorbookworm @raevenlywrites @alex-a-roman @artsymagee @giantrobocock @theheightofdepression @writing-is-a-martial-art @beautifulimposter25 @callmepippin @a-musingmichelle @kirkshiresloss @rhythmiccreatorofbeuty @eos109 @azriel-alexander-holmes @tini-rat @captain-kraken

[ruvviks]

– WIP DAY.

TAGGED BY: @adelaidedrubman, @moonmothers & @devilbrakers, thank you so much!! TAGGING: @reaperkiller, @shadowshearts, @faarkas, @katsigian, @dickytwister, @shellibisshe, @hibernationsuit, @ncytiri, @secondsundering, @strafethesesinners, @morvaris and YOU! been a while since i've worked on cassidy's origin story and it's taking longer now because i managed to put hanan into the story BUT. chapter four is on the way >:^) here's a sneak peek and also you can catch up here if you're interested!

Cassidy was cold.

The tiny apartment was dark, lights left off and never turned on after the last sunlight of the day had sunk below the horizon. The cheap furniture scattered across the living room was starting to gather dust; none of it had been cleaned in a while now, and the lack of activity in the cramped space over the past few days had merely caused more to settle.

The lack of central heating in the place did not do much to stop Cassidy’s shivers- it was simply a safehouse, and despite the fact he had been using it for a couple of months now he had never taken the time to get a warmth source or better isolation. The fact he was sat on the cold tiles of the bathroom floor did not help either, or the fact he was lacking all of his clothes.

Or perhaps it was simply the direct consequence of the freezing cold water running down his body, raining down like hail on his skin.

He slowly raised his hand to run it through his short pink hair, fingers shaking and nails turned blue; though he cared little about it, the pain by then overwhelming to the point he could barely feel anything anymore. A curious paradox that had always confused him a little; yet in that moment he was merely glad, the relief- though temporary- larger than his own concern.

Curious, though. He had turned on the shower like he had always done. Had never noticed just how cold it was before.

Cassidy glanced at the door of the bathroom, dropping his arm back down and draping it over his knee. He had forgotten to close it, somehow; not as if it mattered much. He was alone, like always, expecting no visitors and not even unexpected ones. The safehouse was hidden away well enough in the busy streets of Watson to not draw the attention of even those actively keeping an eye out for him, and he had no reason to worry.

CRASH!

He shivered and closed his eyes, memories flooding back into his mind as he leaned back and allowed the cold water of the shower to fall down his face as well. For some reason he could not remember it as perfectly as he usually could- the only crystal clear vision in his mind that of the clear blue sky above him, as he lay on his back on the hard asphalt of the bridge.

He still wasn’t entirely sure what had gone wrong.

It was not the first time Cassidy had crashed with his motorcycle. And it most definitely was not the first time he had gotten injured- and had ended up with a concussion with that- either, yet something about it all was different this time, leaving him in a much bigger state of confusion than it normally did.

The cold water of his shower was just one of many instances of him suddenly realizing things were different than he had initially believed. He had never noticed it before- despite it making sense, considering the clear lack of heating in the house- just like how he seemed to no longer know how long he usually cooked his meals- how to even turn on the stove in the first place- how he paid for things, or how he dealt with people talking to him.

It had all just come naturally to him for- well, as long as he could remember.

And now, not anymore.

He slowly got up from the floor, muscles protesting with each and every move he made. Turned off the shower, grabbed a towel- carefully dried himself, the soft fabric of the towel scraping over his skin, and got dressed. He had always been sensitive to the different textures of his clothes, but lately none of them felt good anymore and he found himself having trouble wearing anything other than the softest sweatpants and t-shirts he could find.

So far it hadn’t been an issue. Were he to give the job another go, though, it would be.

Despite the fact Sebastian clearly was not so eager to kill Cassidy- thus far he had mostly tried to escape, acting out of self-defense above anything else- showing up without any combat-ready clothes would make it very easy for his target to get the upper hand. Last thing Cassidy needed was to get shot, or stabbed; he was already struggling enough as it was.

Though it did leave him wondering; it would be much easier for the gang leader to simply get rid of him. Of course Cassidy did not know what his client would do after his death- perhaps they would send someone else to do the job, or perhaps they would give up- but eliminating the direct threat himself could save Sebastian a whole lot of sleepless nights.

And yet-

Whatever it meant, it was not worth more of Cassidy’s time.

[buttons-beads-lace]

Yessssss ok I tried the thing and It Worked so now I can tell you about the knitting project I'm working on!

@the-fisher-queen asked me to make a knitted plush fruit slice (because every thing in our house is lemon slice themed at this point) and I couldn't find a pattern at all like what I wanted, so- I'm designing my own. And I have a bunch of fun ideas and I just got to the point where I can properly test the first one and look at this:

The test is grapefruit-colored because... I don't like grapefruit as much, so it gets to be the guinea pig. But the point is, how did I make those white stitches in between the two pink grapefruit segments? I didn't knit them.

First, I knitted each of those pink triangles separately. Then, I sewed then together with white yarn veeeeery loosely. And Then, I pretended that those loose sewed loops of white yarn were the "ladder" of a dropped stitch that's unravelling, and I "fixed" them.

So now they look exactly like a column of knit stitches. They're slightly raised above the level of the pink pieces, which is what I wanted texture-wise. I'm really happy with how it turned out.

I feel like I can't possibly be the first person to do this, but I've also never seen it before? If this already has a name, I'd love to know what it is.

Process photos under the cut.

I did not do a selvage stitch on the pink pieces, and I sewed them together with a whip stitch through the little bumps left by the yarn wrapping around the edge of the piece. This keeps the edges of the sewn stiches from showing on either side of the column of fake "knit" stitches.

I used a crochet hook to grab each of the sewn stitches and pull it through. At the bottom of the seam, the first sewn stitch got pulled through one of the knit stitches that make up the peel of the grapefruit.

I sewed and then "knitted" a few stitches at a time so that I could adjust the tension.

When I got to the end of the seam, I turned to the wrong side and sewed the two pink pieces together again, tightly, down the back of the seam. Since I'm going to be stuffing this to make a plush toy, I didn't want there to be any visible gaps when the seam is pulled tight.

Anyway I also have like four other ideas for how to knit Citrus Fruit Segments so stay tuned. I'll probably publish the pattern once I have it all ironed out.

[lux-scriptum]

amuse me :)

don't ask me how old Cadoc is. ambiguous small child age.

~~

Cadoc skidded across the floor of the throne room. His paws scrabbled at the smooth stone; the house seemed to sense his struggle because it abruptly changed texture until he got the traction he needed. With the house’s help he managed to curl up behind his father’s throne. Smoke curled scentlessly around him. Now that he was beginning to outgrow his kit-fur, tufts of it floated along his path. The house took care of that for him too, whisking it away in a puff of air that sent the fog surging upwards. 

Lucifer had been gone for days, but Branwen had said he’d be back soon as she left for her tree again. Cadoc felt his chest puff out in pride that she trusted him to be mature enough to be alone for a few hours. It gave him time to get settled and ready to surprise his father when he got home. His antlers had finally started growing in properly this spring, and they were a full inch taller than when Luci had left! 

The throne room door opened. Cadoc crouched even lower, tucking his bushy tail close. There was no pep to his father’s step, however. Luci was always energetic and fun and- and he flopped into his throne with more weight than Cadoc expected. Rather than pounce like he had originally planned, Cadoc crept forward slowly. 

Luci was pale today. He stood a full foot shorter than he had when he left, and his thin shoulders curled inwards. One hand dangled over the edge of the chair while the other pressed against Luci’s face. Stringy light brown hair hung longer than usual, half hiding him from view. Cadoc touched the long fingers in front of him with his nose. That was enough Luci jumped and looked down. His smile died before it began, but he did lift Cadoc onto his lap. 

“Hey, Cada,” Luci said softly. Cold fingers ran down Cadoc’s spine. His grey eyes were suspiciously bright; he smelled wrong. Like light and burning and regret. “I didn’t expect you to be home. I suppose I am a bit late.”

Cadoc shoved his head under his father’s chin, forgetting for the moment that he had antlers that could jab at the soft skin there. Luci pushed him down with a startled laugh. There. That was more normal. It eased some of the anxiety in Cadoc’s stomach. 

“Those are new.” Luci grabbed one and shook it. Cadoc tugged free. “What, I’m gone for three whole days and you try to grow up on me?”

Cadoc shed his fox form so he could sit properly in his father’s lap. “I’m very big now,” he said solemnly. He’d kept the little nubs of antlers, too proud to let them be hidden. 

“Oh yeah?” Luci asked as he stood. “Well, don’t grow too big, or else I can’t give you piggy back rides anymore.”

Cadoc gaped at him indignantly. “You’ll just have to grow too,” he informed Luci as he wound his little arms around Luci’s neck. “You can be whatever you want, so you should always be big enough for rides.”

“Oh is that so?” Luci laughed again. A door appeared nearby. Luci took it while he stared seriously down at Cadoc. “I will keep that in mind, little prince. Who am I to deny you anything? The prince of Hell deserves to be spoilt rotten.”

“I am not rotten,” Cadoc insisted.

“Oh, of course not. My apologies, my prince. I think I owe you some adventures before nap time, don’t I?”

Cadoc kicked his feet excitedly. “Can we play in the snow?”

Luci wrinkled his nose. Already color was coming back to his skin; his eyes were now the rich brown of freshly tilled earth and surrounded by laugh lines. “Can we pick a different ‘scape today? I’m not sure I’m up for the cold today.”

Cadoc considered that. Luci had seemed sad. “Alright,” he finally said. “But I want two bedtime stories.” He held up four fingers to prove his point. He wasn’t sure why Luci laughed this time, but he liked it when his dad laughed, so he figured it was a win.

[heta-micronomics]

I really miss the ocean.

I remember when I was a kid (pre-orphaning) and wanted nothing more than to go the beach, and good God did I talk about it. I would spend hours making lists of what to bring, where to go, how many bags my family would need. I knew we'd never go, but the hope sure felt nice. The beach became synonymous with hope that maybe, just maybe someday, I'd get to do something with my family and have stories to talk just like my classmates.

I remember looking at the map and hating how it was so close but so far: barely two hours away. I went with friends a few times, but I tried to keep the hope that I'd go with my family.

Post-orphaning, this changed. I don't know why. But with these my new family, we did go to the beach. Quite often, actually. I came to hate it—the texture of the sand, the loudness, the salt residue always left in my hair. No longer was the beach hope but something to avoid.

Now that I'm living alone (with my partner) farther away, I miss it again. I miss making tiny sand houses and looking for crabs. I miss pointing out jellies. I miss throwing myself into the oncoming swell and letting buoyancy replace gravity like runners passing the torch. I miss the excited drive there and the exhausted trip home. I miss staring into the horizon at sundown and realizing just how big the ocean is.

There's technically nothing stopping me but scheduling. I could drive the four hours to the coast and spend all day there. But I know it won't be the same. The more I try to "heal my inner child," the more bittersweet it feels. I made it, but now I know that things I used to rely on aren't nearly as good as I remember them. And that really hurts.

I I've gone twice with friends in the past.... six months? It was fun, don't get me wrong. But it's different somehow. I think I'm afraid to go alone. I'm scared that I'll end up hating it again eithout someone there, and I don't want to. I miss the ocean so, so much, but I can't tell if I love it for what it is or for the representation my brain invented as a way to keep me going.

Either way.

I really, really miss the ocean with all my heart.

[satans-helper]

Reaching for Stardust - Part X

Read Looking For Space here / Playlists here / Read on wattpad

Word Count: ~3700

Warnings: none

A/N: Even just planning a fictional wedding is a lot of work LOL. Hope you enjoy <3

---

I wondered if the coils of nerves I felt in addition to those soft butterflies would also linger until the actual wedding came and went. I was nervous to even just get the girls together–Bev, Kirsti and Jane–and I couldn’t understand why that was, not entirely anyway. They all knew each other. Bev and Jane were friends, though Jane and Kirsti had only met once or twice, and it wasn’t like I was being paraded to my grave–we were going wedding dress shopping, something I was really looking forward to. Except, and I giggled to myself about this as I drove to Kirsti’s house to pick her up, I did really want Josh to go with me too. However, we’d agreed that keeping the bride’s dress a secret until the day of the ceremony was a tradition we would abide by, which I also liked. He said he could imagine me in the dress I chose; I could imagine the look on his face when he finally saw it. 

I was also excited to see the dress for myself, whatever and wherever it might be. I was unsure that the first bridal shop we went to would have what I pictured, which I described in detail to Kirsti while we drove over, but hopeful for the best. The thought of having to drag out this process over multiple shops and multiple days seems completely daunting but I felt like I understood what all other brides strived for as well–perfection and nothing less. It was a lot of pressure to put on myself and everyone else, really, and I figured the boys would have a much easier time. Although, maybe not–Josh had a fierce eye for detail and a strong drive for perfection, too.

Bev and Jane ambushed me with a dual hug as soon as I stepped out of the car, though I’d already told Bev about the engagement in person and Jane had shrieked like an overjoyed banshee when I’d called her about it. I couldn’t hold back the laughter that bubbled out of me; I hugged them back and we squeezed one another while they both erupted into overlapping chatter of disbelief and excitement. 

“I mean, don’t get me wrong, I knew this would happen,” Bev said, releasing me from her hold and Jane followed suit, both of them giving me room to breathe. “But it’s still like, wow. So exciting. So crazy. Are you so excited?”

I laughed again, throwing my head back and my face felt a strong burst of early afternoon sunlight. “I’m so excited,” I said, and it felt more and more true each time I said it. “It’s okay to not believe it wouldn’t happen though. I dragged out this relationship for so long–”

Kirsti quickly interrupted me: “Enough of that,” he said in her best big-sister-scolding tone, but when I looked at her, a smile broke out over her lips. “Life is long. You’re getting married, that’s all that matters.”

“This dress matters too,” Bev said, hooking her arm in mine and motioning for Jane to take the other, which she did. “Let’s find you the perfect one.”

“And the perfect shoes,” Jane added. “And the perfect everything else.” 

Inside the shop was a huge wash of white, mostly. But within the blank canvas of color, or lack thereof, there were so many different textures, fabrics and cuts that it soon became overwhelming just to look at; but I wasn’t there for white. I had a vision in my mind of my dress and the dresses for the friends I treasured so deeply, none of which would be white. I explained this to the stylist, who led all of us to a different section, one that matched the aesthetic of the sort of subdued, soft twilight sky I had in mind; she helped me choose four different ones to start, and I quickly learned that being the center of attention for so long was going to be a bit of a challenge. 

“Come on, don’t be bashful,” Bev called out while I stripped behind a curtain. “We’re here to judge the dresses, not you.”

“It’s a good thing Mom didn’t come,” Kirsti added. “She’d be doing both.”

“I actually think she’s mellowed out with age,” I replied. She really had, thank God. But I still had wanted to spare myself of too much scrutiny and, surprisingly, she hadn’t taken offense to me wanting only the help of my friends and sister. She claimed she wanted to be surprised by whatever I chose too, and had taken on the task of wedding flowers and greens on her own. Another win and another moment of gratitude for myself. But in the shop, I looked down at my chest then at the unzipped dress I was holding in my hands: “I don’t think I wore the right bra for this.”

“I’m sure they’ll take that into consideration,” Kirsti said. “Just try it on!”

“Alright, alright.” I stepped into it, the material super fine and wispy around my legs. The color was nice–a pale, icy blue–but the more it covered my body as I pulled it up, the less sure I was about it. Plus the short sleeves looked off. Nonetheless, I smoothed it over my waist and hips, then reached behind myself to grope for the zipper. With a huff, I eventually called out, “I need help.”

Jane popped in past the curtain. While we stood in front of the mirror, her behind me dutifully zipping me up, I thought back to Jake’s subdued excitement when I mentioned her being a bridesmaid. “So,” I began, allowing the thoughts to become words with my curiosity getting the better of me. “What do you think of Jake?”

Her eyes met mine briefly in the mirror. “He seems nice. I think I only met him once, right?”

I sighed, smoothing the bodice of the dress with my hands. “How is that possible? I should have been forcing those boys to hang out with all of you way more often.”

Jane laughed a little. “They seem fun. But why? Is he not fun and I should be worried?”

“No, the opposite. Jake is very fun and you should be excited.” I turned around, all zipped up and feeling stiff and awkward in such an unfamiliar fit. “I think he’s interested in you. Maybe you two will fall in love next.”

Her face brightened, then her eyebrows rose and curiosity was a curtain over her own features, not just mine. “I need to remember what he looks like.”

I took one last look in the mirror behind me, took a breath and nodded at the curtain. “My phone’s out there. How do I look though? Be honest.”

“Hot,” Jane said, smiling. “But I can tell you don’t think this is the one.”

“I don’t think so. But let’s see what they say.” I stepped out with Jane by my side; Kirsti looked up from her phone and narrowed her eyes, inspecting, while Bev lit up bright, grinning wildly and clapping. I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help chuckling, my face growing hot. “Alright, chill, Bev.”

“It looks so good!” she said, hopping to her feet. Her volume alerted the stylist to return to us and I felt swarmed, overheating in this suffocating but beautiful shop. 

“What do you think?” the stylist asked, hands clasped in front of herself as if she was expecting me to veto it, and she wasn’t wrong.

“I like the color,” I said, looking down at the rippling icy blue. “But I don’t think I like the short sleeves.” I glanced at the three dresses that were hanging, waiting. “Could I try on that long-sleeved one with the lace next?”

“Of course.” She whisked over to it and was the one to follow me into the dressing room, immediately bringing her hands to undo the dress I still had on. “A January wedding, right?”

I nodded, wiggling as the dress was gently pulled down. “January 18th. It feels so soon.”

A smile met my eyes in the mirror. “The weddings do feel like they come on so fast.” 

Once I stepped into the new dress, I could feel the immediate difference–this one was lighter and softer against my skin, the most delicate tulle and silk brushing over my legs and such a fine mesh over my collar and arms. The color was even better too, not entirely an icy blue but more like the blue of the twilight sky I often thought of when I thought of my husband-to-be. The skirt was layered, actually tiered, with the front shorter and becoming longer as it went back, skirt like waves of pale cerulean and ultramarine, blue so light it was almost white. The mesh and lace bodice matched that gentle serenity and the sweetheart neckline shaped itself against my chest nicely, and the flare of the skirt gave me additional shape I didn’t even realize I had. I was silent, sort of in awe at how good it looked and how much I liked it. 

“What do you think?” the stylist asked, stepping back and putting her hands on my shoulders to turn me to the side a bit. “Look at it from all angles.”

“I love it,” I told her, then questioned my own zealousness. “Do most other brides choose the second dress or am I going too fast?”

The stylist laughed softly, an encouraging sound. “If it works, it works. I think this looks beautiful.” She grabbed the edge of the curtain. “Should we see what your bridesmaids think?”

And like the three boys of my soon-to-be extended family whom I loved so much, my three girls all gave different and apparent reactions: Jane gasped, bringing a hand to cover her mouth, with such theatrical flair I felt my face flush and I resisted rolling my eyes in defense. Bev shot up from her chair and rushed over to me, nearly blocking my view of Kirsti’s eyes widening and saying, “Damn.”

“Oh God,” I said, covering my face. “How am I going to handle an entire day of people staring at me?” 

“Are you kidding?” Kirsti laughed. “They’ll all be staring at Josh.”

I peeked through my fingers. “Probably.”

“I’m kidding!” Kirsti laughed again. “You look amazing. He’s gonna flip out when he sees you.”

“I’m flipping out right now!” Bev exclaimed, nearly knocking the stylist out with her wild movements around me, inspecting the dress, buzzing like a bee. “This is perfect! This is the one, babe. You have to get it.”

“Mom’s getting it,” Kirsti announced. “She gave me her credit card. And her blessing.”

“Oh, of course, I couldn’t get it without that,” I said, actually rolling my eyes then, but the distant approval filled me with even more joy nonetheless. It felt like everyone and everything that was most important to me was coming together–after all, that’s what a wedding was, right? It was astounding. It was overwhelming. I felt breathless–literally. 

“Fuck,” I uttered, so unladylike, pinching at the bodice. “Too tight.”

The stylist was at my side in an instant, resting a reassuring hand on my waist. “We’ll let it out a bit. An inch is all you need.”

“Yeah, but you’re gonna get more than that on your wedding night!” Bev proclaimed, cackling, and Jane fell into laughter with her. 

“My God, why does she take you anywhere?” came Kirsti’s humored reply on my behalf, reading my mind. 

“You really think this is the one?” I asked, finding my breath again, looking in the mirror against the wall. It felt like the one regardless of the slight tightness against my ribs, and it certainly looked like the one I had imagined. It was funny, I thought, how similar Josh was–beginning as a nagging thorn in my side to quickly being the epitome of my own personal perfection, in both vision and soul. 

“It’s just so–so you,” Kirsti affirmed, coming to my side. “It’s like, exactly what you described.”

“Stunning,” Jane added, retrieving her phone. “Come on, let’s take pictures.”

And so we did, with me trying to overcome my fear of being in the limelight, then all of us together beaming with elation that I never thought would be a part of my life. Like many girls and women, I’d imagined a wedding and being married, but I never thought it would seriously happen. The idea of a soulmate had always been nice but also frivolous and unattainable. All four of us in that bridal shop had spent so much time over the years on guys who’d just wasted that time, guys who had proven over and over that they weren’t even close to being “the one” or even “a one.” Josh had felt sort of antithetical to my existence when we’d first met–him vibrant and loud, a bit of a showboat and someone who commanded attention. But then I saw, and anyone who really knew him could, the layers beneath that. I saw more and more how he was gentle and delicate, sweet and thoughtful, shy in the most unexpected ways. And he brought out the qualities in myself I’d craved to see more and more of, qualities that I’d been envious of when we’d first met. He made it feel safer to be free, to be silly and eventually I wanted the entire world to see him and to see us together. 

“Okay,” I said, brushing a strand of hair that had fallen into my flushed face back. “Now we gotta find all of your dresses.” 

The maid of honor and bridesmaid dresses ended up being a success as well after some brief squabbling about the length and neckline. I’d vividly imagined, and collaborated with Josh, the colors of the entire wedding party–Josh and I in blue, Kirsti in dusky rose, Jake in maroon, the bridesmaids in a gray-ish lavender and the groomsmen in cool gray. I wondered how they would fare when their day to shop came along, and quickly imagined Sam making a fuss over every little garment detail, Danny going along with everything Josh ordered and Jake watching it all unravel, cool demeanor on the outside but mind turning on the inside. 

During our late celebratory lunch, Kirsti reminded me that bachelor and bachelorette parties were a thing.

“Shit,” I said, dropping my fork to the table. “I haven’t even thought about that. Weddings are so expensive to begin with and now I have to plan a whole party too?”

“We plan it, silly,” Kirsti said. “Just tell me when you wanna do it.”

“Bridal shower, too,” Jane added, giving me a sympathetic look.

“We can plan that too,” Kirsti assured me, patting my shoulder. “And I already talked to Mom and Dad about that. They’re paying for it.”

“What’s there to pay for?” I questioned, feeling overwhelmed again and trying not to freak out in the booth. “Isn’t it just people giving me gifts? Besides, Josh and I don’t need anything.”

Bev laughed. “Yes, you do. I’ve seen your flatware. You guys shouldn’t be eating off chipped plates.”

“I like those plates,” I grumbled, stirring my iced tea with the straw. “Besides, ‘flatware?’ Are we really that old?”

“Talk to Josh and make a list,” Kirsti encouraged. “We can just do other stuff for the bridal shower if you want and keep the registry for the boring, adult stuff.”

“Yeah, fun stuff only for the bridal shower,” Bev said with a wink.

I sat back, giving her a warning look, but then we both burst into laughter. “Fine, fine,” I said. “Do what you will. I guess when I fantasized about a wedding, I didn’t think about every little thing that went into one.”

“I don’t see divorce in your future. You and Josh are made for each other,” Kirsti said, and my laughter died down into quiet surprise. I mean, I knew that was true, but hearing that affirmation from my own sister was something else. “You only get married once. Let’s have fun with it and make it count.” 

By the time I got back home, I was exhausted. I laid back in bed, the curtains drawn and spilling early evening light inside, and started to work on a registry with the aid of Kirsti’s directions. I hadn’t even realized my eyes had closed, but when it was nearly entirely dark in the bedroom, I awoke from a groggy sleep to my laptop in front of my face shut and Josh’s body draped across my backside. 

I turned my head to look at him. His eyes were closed but I couldn’t tell if he was actually sleeping. “Hey, Starshine,” I greeted quietly, rolling over to face him. 

He opened his eyes and smiled. “Hey, darling.”

“We should get up,” I said, making no effort to actually do so. “I didn’t mean to doze off. What time is it?”

Josh looked behind himself at the clock on our nightstand. “8:16. You were doing more wedding planning?”

I groaned, closing my eyes again, nestling against his chest. “Trying to. There’s so much to do, Josh. I’m getting stressed out.”

“So let me do more.”

“Maybe I’m stressed over nothing,” I mused, comforted by his arms wrapping around me, but the torrent of thoughts that came next still seemed overwhelming. “So we have to figure out the registry, Kirsti’s doing my bridal shower, the girls are all doing my bachelorette party. You have to figure out your bachelor party. We still have to figure out the food for the wedding and the bar–”

Josh giggled. “Okay, yes, that sounds like a lot. But what have we done so far? The invitations are all sent out, we’ve secured the venue, you got your dress and so did the girls.”

“Honeymoon,” was all I replied with.

Josh rubbed my back. “Darling, we will figure that out, too. If it’s too much, we can save the honeymoon for a later time. It doesn’t have to happen right after the wedding if we don’t want it to.”

“I just wanna get married.”

“I do too. And we’re going to.” 

I inhaled the scent of our detergent and the faint remnants of sweat on his skin. “Did you ever think about your wedding when you were younger? Or is that really just a girl thing?”

“I thought about it. Not very often, but yes, I did. I’m thinking about it a hell of a lot nowadays.” Josh sighed. “The best part of this will be having everyone we love there with us.”

“Speaking of–when are you guys going to get your suits?”

“Tomorrow, as a matter of fact.”

“Wow. Big day. Don’t let Sam bully you.”

Josh laughed. “Absolutely not.”

Eventually Josh roused me enough to get back up to my feet. Dinner was quick and we ate it on the balcony, our chipped plates on the thrift store table, the stars barely visible but still, it was enough. We had ice cream in the freezer which I scooped afterwards and we ate that outside too, my head on Josh’s shoulder to cure the chill from eating it, and night drifted deeper and deeper but my evening nap had ruined my appetite to sleep.

“So what should we do?” Josh asked as we did the dishes together, me washing, my ring resting on the windowsill, and him drying. 

“Anything that’s not wedding-related,” I said, exhausted by the mere thought of attempting to do any more work on it.

“Should we go somewhere?”

I was quick, eager for anything: “Yes.”

“Should we go to our spot?”

I smiled down at the suds on my hands. “Always.”

So down the empty streets we rode with Josh driving, the sky becoming darker with each quick mile, the stars getting brother and closer as the minutes ticked by. I was even more wide awake than I’d been earlier when we made it to the barn, its familiar decay a comforting presence, like a living, breathing thing that silently greeted us when we stepped onto the dirt and then onto the tall grass. 

“Show me our initials again,” Josh said, taking my hand and leading the way despite his request. “I need to see that beautiful heart you carved.”

“I don’t know about ‘beautiful,’” I said, tramping along. “My knife skills aren’t as refined as yours.”

“Nonsense.” When Josh and I made it to that wood engraved with our initials and, of course, the shoddy heart finally carved around them, he looked it over in the dark for a long moment. I just watched him trace the lines with his eyes, and then his fingers, as best he could–we’d forgotten flashlights and I don’t think Josh ever really thought to use his phone–until he turned to me and wrapped me in a hug. “Brilliant,” he said, kissing me. 

“Our legacy,” I told him, looking into those eyes of his, as dark and as deep as a forest soaked in twilight.

He smiled, so light and sweet. “And I would be perfectly content with that,” he said, lifting his hands to brush my hair back past my shoulders. “But I think our actual legacy will be even greater.” 

“You think?” I questioned teasingly, tilting my head. The abandoned barn, the cool air, the faint moonlight and Josh’s love and beauty had me feeling silly. 

“Absolutely, my love.” Josh brought his lips to my neck; his mustache and beard made me audibly giggle and he chuckled too as he pressed me back against the barn, and he spoke the next words even more softly: “You know how many poems I’ve written about you. And all the poems you’ve written about me. Our words will immortalize us–someday people will find them and wonder who we were.”

I ran my hands up his back, bringing him closer to me. “Are you so sure about that, Joshua?”

There was a kiss placed right beneath my ear. “Very sure, my darling.” 

I tilted my head back to look up at the stars. “Then I’m going to believe you.”

---

Tagging: @sparrowofrhiannon @jjwasneverhere @clairesjointshurt @bizzielisteningtogreta @colorstreammind

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[spectatingwitchowl]

note: do not repost this image. if you find this on someone else's profile, just comment my username on their post (dandelione01whatever on tumblr and dandelione._01 on instagram). no need for further arguments. just do the right thing.

꒰⁠ Demonstration of a Relevant Ability: Rain in a Miniscule Scale ꒱

The campus greenhouse was a popular site for students to flock to, doing all sorts of activities inside. Whether it be for the purpose of hanging out only and admire the year-round wet weather through glass walls coated in raindrops, or for agricultural research and other academic-related tasks. This Garden of Eden in a transparent house, filled with flora from floor to ceiling, sometimes attracting tiny flying fauna, has got you covered with all of your needs.

Clouds of small amounts spawn around a set of basil plants and other herbs that had been crossbred since at least two months in an experiment conducted by Denver and Madeleine in an attempt to create a hybrid plant which will be used in the field of medicine. Rain showers the newly bred herb, absorbing every drop of it yet just enough to keep it from being overfed, the cloud slowly disappearing in the process. Denver watches through the entire act, mesmerized at the thought of seeing the regular precipitation in a smaller scale.

"That looked beautiful." He says as he takes a closer glance at the shrinking wisp, fighting off the urge to let his finger feel through it, knowing that the rainwater must not contain any dirt from his hands. So-called 'magic' was a common thing, a trait often categorized based on the ancient Greek concept of the four fundamental elements; air, earth, water, and fire; albeit only about half the population possesses them naturally, otherwise it is learned by those who aren't capable of it. Yet, it still never disappoints to mesmerize the human eye.

"I find it beautiful as well. I would sometimes create little tornadoes about the size of my palm as demonstration for when I get bored or when I'm studying about meteorology." Madeleine slightly smiles at the compliment, a bit embarrassed upon receiving it for something so trivial— at least to her. She then lifts her left hand, a cloud fading in around her before lifting itself in thin air.

"Don't get me wrong, but I don't see why you have to compliment that when you can speed up the growth of plants, quickly let flowers bloom and fruits to ripen— a very relevant ability for agriculture. Crops would be flooding in the markets with an ability like yours."

"Well, thank you. This wouldn't have been possible under five months if it weren't for wizardry." He watches as the clouds float around her, now travelling to the other plants displayed. Hesitating for a minute, Denver finally asks a question he found rather childish.

"My apologies for bringing up a silly question, but would you mind if I touch those?" He points at the clouds that Madeleine may have seemed to forgot spawned just a few moments ago.

"Ah, these? Sure. I wouldn't mind. They're cold and made of really tiny droplets, so they're a bit damp as well. You really wouldn't feel a solid texture." With a move of her hand, one lowered and moved between them, allowing Denver to easily touch it without reaching up and struggling. He lets his hand through the cloud, feeling a sudden cold, yet humid texture exactly like she described.

"It feels cold, and a bit funny for some reason. Great how these give us water in many forms when they themselves are made of it."

"Congratulations, you have experienced a childhood dream of many." She chuckles and he did as well before going back to their experiment.

~~~~~~~~~~

More content about Dandelion and his equally nerdy friend. There are a lot to unpack about their setting which I may or may not have publicized, such as the fact that magic exists, and is something aquired through either birth or learning and training. Madeleine is capable of manipulating clouds, and Denver can manipulate plant growth. Both have their limitations, Madeleine having to take an incapable amount of physical energy just to create a supercell cloud, causing her to become severely exhausted and pass out, her physique weaker than average serving as an obstruction and limitation. Denver's ability is limited to plant growth only, not being able to prevent its death. They still tend to play around with their abilities despite that.

Anyways, the final two characters out of six will be put into progress afterwards.

~~~~~~~~~~

[jodilinbio]

The fact that a guy named Steven sold our house for a surprising $83,500—just shy of our asking price of $85,000—only two weeks after it hit the market raised a red flag in my mind and sent my bad vibes crawling. I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was about to go wrong, as if a higher power knew we’d need every penny we could get.

Steven was one of the biggest con artists we’d ever encountered, alongside Dan, the well driller, and Gravity, the general contractor. They were all part of an elaborate scam, with the well driller being the worst offender. He deliberately underestimated the necessary depth of our well to extract more money later, but we refused to pay beyond our initial agreement. Instead, we ended up spending three months in hotels while they botched multiple aspects of the project. To help stay on days, I took Melatonin, which I managed for an incredible six months.

The first month was spent at the Siesta Suites in Scottsdale. The place was typical of Arizona apartments—noisy, with thin walls and constant activity, whether it was landscaping, painting, or repairs.

Despite the chaos, we found some enjoyment along the way. We shopped for new items for the house, and even though it was hectic, I relished the process, even as I regained all the weight I had lost after quitting smoking and jumped back up to 125 pounds. With the circumstances being what they were, watching my weight wasn’t a priority.

Dennis, a coworker of Tom’s, seemed like a lifeline when he loaned us his thirty-year-old, twenty-seven-foot trailer on October 17th, 1999. While it was far from glamorous, it was better than a hotel room. Still, we had to visit hotels every other day for showers. Siphoning water into the tank was a hassle, and the near-pressureless showers were less than ideal. Keeping the propane tanks filled was a struggle, too; while the days were warm, nights were frigid. As a result, we became regulars at the Fairfield Inn, where I often chatted with Teresa at the front desk while grabbing coffee and snacks.

Tom and Dennis agreed on $400 a month for the trailer, but by the time we were finished with the trailer, we owed him $1,000. Dennis had initially seemed generous, so Tom didn’t anticipate he’d demand the full amount upon retrieval of the trailer to buy some sporting equipment he wanted. Instead of helping us, Dennis exploited our situation, seeing it as a way to make money.

After Tom switched from nights to days at the bank, we finally moved into our new home, which I proudly named Desert Winds Ranch, just a few days after New Year’s 2000. It was a welcome change from the noise of our previous life, with the nearest neighbor over 400 feet away. Occasionally, we’d hear distant music, but it was nothing compared to when we were in Phoenix. Plus there were some sonic booms and gunshots during hunting season, alongside the distant barking of dogs.

Our house featured a living room, a den, a dining area, and four bedrooms, including a small retreat off the master suite with a spacious bathroom and a garden tub separate from the shower stall. Though the model showcased two sinks, I opted for one sink and extra cabinets instead. The closet was large enough to fit two twin beds.

The kitchen had a skylight, a dishwasher, a garbage disposal, and an oven with a digital temperature display that beeped when preheated. It was self-cleaning too, something I’d never had before until then. However, the refrigerator’s ice maker remained unused, as our well water tasted surprisingly salty.

A few things were done poorly that bothered me, like the absence of an evaporative cooler. Installing one would have required additional money and awkward ductwork along the vaulted ceiling. The wallboards were also sloppily done, with noticeable seams that could have benefited from tape and texture, but that was more costly too.

The denim blue carpet turned out darker than I had expected, and the tulip design I chose for the kitchen and bathroom wallboards wasn’t as appealing as it seemed at first. Still, denim blue was better than brown, and the tulips weren’t ugly.

The best part was that the house was custom-made to our specifications, aside from the basic model. No one else had lived there before. While I didn’t have many options, I chose whitewash for the kitchen and bathroom cabinets and white linoleum for the kitchen floor. Unfortunately, there was an ugly red stain in the spot where they marked the vent. I opted for blue exterior paint with white trim, my first choice from the available options. The smooth countertops were a welcome change from the drab ceramic tiles we had in Phoenix.

For years, I had used my grandparents’ furniture and my parents’ silverware and plates, which was fine at first, but finally, we had our own items—things we had selected ourselves.

It was hard to believe that less than a decade ago, I worried about where my next meal would come from. Now, my biggest decisions revolved around color schemes and decor. For a while, it would be that way, anyway.

The view was breathtaking. Gone were the sounds of shouting, honking horns, and blaring sirens—now, the dominant soundtrack was nature itself. Mountains loomed in the distance in every direction, and in one direction, you could see at least forty or fifty miles away. At night, the distant lights of Casa Grande twinkled like stars on the horizon. It was hard to believe that barely a decade ago, my view consisted of run-down, graffiti-covered buildings. I had come a long way from that filth, poverty, and ugliness.

But the land wasn’t without its imperfections. At some point, someone had gutted a trailer on our property, leaving all kinds of junk behind. People also had the habit of tossing trash they didn’t burn, and the desert winds would blow old shopping bags and other garbage onto our land.

Dogs were another issue. With no leash laws and many in Arizona unwilling to keep their dogs indoors, our land became a free-for-all for the town’s roaming pets, even a few horses and a llama!

While the neighbors weren’t problematic, they could be nosy. I was surprised, considering this was a place people moved to for solitude. George, the elderly man who owned the ten acres behind us, made it a point to introduce himself. He informed us that he’d split his property into five two-acre lots and planned to build rentals on the two that remained empty—a plan we weren’t thrilled about. We suspected he hoped we’d offer to share our well, but we never did. Later, his workers brazenly ignored our “no trespassing” sign, strolling onto our property when they saw our well-being worked on, eager to know all about it and slow things down even more.

Our nearest neighbors were a Mexican family—consisting of a woman in her forties, her daughter, the daughter’s husband, and their five-year-old son. They came by to meet us and to ask if we owned the loose dogs that had killed their chickens.

Dan, who lived diagonally from us, could be obnoxious at times, revving engines for hours or blasting music. He moved a year later, but not before stopping by when he saw Gravity and his tractor—hoping to hire some tractor work for himself.

It seemed the more I tried to escape people, the more they intruded. They were on the phone, in the mail, at the door. I half-expected to open the fridge and find someone in there, too!

Maricopa, split by the Ak-Chin Indian reservation, was a farming community with privately owned lots with manufactured homes. Few houses were built on-site, and the range of residents was broad. It wasn’t unusual to see a well-kept home next to a dilapidated dump strewn with trash.

The only downside to the fresh country air was the occasional whiff of horse manure, though that depended on which way the wind blew. Maricopa had rules—one house per acre, one large animal per acre, and no home closer than twenty-five feet from the property line.

In spring, beekeepers often worked on the farms nearby, and swarms of bees would gather in the trees, including those on our land. The incessant buzzing was something straight out of a horror movie and rather unnerving.

It was convenient living just fifteen minutes from the reservation casinos, but financial problems soon resurfaced, limiting how often we could go.

Maricopa’s town center didn’t offer much back in 2000: a Circle K, a Dairy Queen, a feed and grain store, a junkyard, a manufactured home dealer, a church, a school, a funeral home, and police and fire substations. Even the small town I grew up in back East had more. Maricopa didn’t even have a bank, though it did have a small post office, where we rented a P.O. box after transferring our mail from Tempe, as there were no delivery services where we lived. Today, it’s quite a bustling town.

Being outside the Valley of the Sun, Maricopa had more extreme weather. Summers were hotter, and winters were colder, with highs and lows fluctuating greatly—a 70º day could plummet to 35º by morning.

Tom and I settled into our new home, and life was good. We set up our new furniture, and I had fun decorating. We talked about future plans—a pool, an Arizona room, porches, sheds, barns, horses, fences. I had achieved all my major goals and no longer craved the ones I hadn’t.

We bought a home gym, and I started to tone up and lose weight, getting back down to around 105 pounds.

The only sad event after moving in was losing Scuttles, my favorite rat at the time. The dark brown rat died suddenly, just five months after we brought him home. Vanilla Belly had passed while we were still living in the trailer, leaving us with Ratsy and Bear. I despised Bear; he was a mean, half-blind tan rat. He died around the time we got Houdini, a light brown rat named for his escape artist antics. He’d often hide behind boxes in the master closet. Houdini eventually nestled into my heart even more than Scuttles had.

Yes, life was good. We had a beautiful house, and it was finally quiet. But as predicted, things did break and leak more than they should have.

Little did we know that while we had left the noise behind, something else followed us. Something filled with a hatred far beyond our understanding, and one day, after finding myself bored with nothing left to do, there was a knock on the door.

Suddenly, I wasn’t the least bit bored.

[honeyhxrry]

How Long Does A Resin Bound Driveway Last?

If you are thinking about getting a resin-bound driveway, you may be wondering how long a resin-bound driveway will last.

The good news is that a resin driveway will last for many years. It is not only durable, but it is also very easy to maintain.

There are a number of factors that you should consider, including the size of your property and the way your house is arranged. You will also need to find a reliable installer to help with the installation. A resin-bound driveway is usually installed by professionals who know what they are doing.

Resin drives are durable and they come in a variety of coluors and textures. They are also water permeable, so the surface doesn't collect puddles. These types of driveways can last up to twenty-five years. Some simple steps can help you keep your driveway looking its best.

First, you will need to clean the resin-bound driveway. This will remove debris such as leaves, pine needles, and other particles that could harm the surface.

Secondly, you will need to decide on the kind of edges you would like for your driveway. There are a range of options to choose from, including solid, aggregate, and recycled plastic.

Finally, you should ensure you install your resin driveway with the correct mix. Choosing the wrong amount of resin or aggregate will mean your driveway won't last as long. Additionally, the colour of the material you choose may fade, causing your driveway to look less than perfect.

Why you should engage specialists

As with any new driveway, it is a good idea to consult a professional before you begin. They can make recommendations on the materials and colour to use for your new resin driveway. Another reason to hire a professional is if you have trees or other vegetation that can damage your resin driveway. Tree roots can erode the surface of the drive, while vegetation can create overgrowth that covers up any traces of the resin.

Depending on your budget and the size of your driveway, you can get a resin driveway installed in as little as four hours. If you don't have access to a pressure washer, you can also opt for light power washing. Alternatively, you can hire a jet wash to clear away any unwanted debris or residue.

As long as you follow these steps, your resin driveway will look great for years to come. In addition, you will be able to enjoy all the benefits of a resin driveway, from a beautiful appearance to ease of maintenance.

[oldguardhc]

Headcanon that joe and Nicky have all (and I do mean *all*) of their old wedding rings. Whenever a bad death occurs or a war or if they just feel like it they retire the rings to their malta house so that they can look back on them later and remember the times they had. Joe always keeps two of their collective rings on his person- one for him, one to quickly slip on Nicky’s finger should they need or want to suddenly be married. In almost a thousand years they have lost exactly 8 of them

Old Guard hc #124

Nicky can’t stop staring at Joe’s hands. More specifically, Nicky can’t stop staring at Joe’s bare fingers. It’s not like Joe never takes his rings off. He always takes them off before a mission because they get in the way of his leather gloves; hell, he had them off a week ago, when they were in Sudan and only slipped them back on after they arrived in Goussainville. So Nicky’s not a stranger to Joe’s bare fingers; yet, he can’t stop staring at them. 

They’re bare and wrong and it’s driving Nicky insane. 

The obvious solution would be to bring the last two rings out of retirement. They’ve only been in the safe for a of couple days and nobody but them would even know, much less care. But every time Nicky thinks about grabbing the two rings, he sees flashes of Joe strapped to the gurney as Kozak takes sample after sample, tastes the cold sterility of the lab, smells the biting alcohol Kozak bathed them in. 

Nicky shakes his head. They retired those rings for a reason.  

He just needs to suck his feelings up for several more days until they get the green light from Copley and then they can go down to a jewelry store. They’ll get some new rings and they can immediately start creating happy memories to look back upon when the rings are inevitably retired. Just a couple more days. 

He can do this!

He cannot do this. 

He tries. Even though his husband is very beautiful—the most beautiful man in the world, in Nicky’s humble opinion—Nicky can’t keep his eyes on Joe’s face. They always start on Joe’s face; but Joe has picked up this awful habit of speaking with his hands and how can Nicky not notice the missing rings? Joe is literally waving the fact right in Nicky’s face! 

“Alright, we’re going to the jewelry store; Copley be damned,” Joe says, pushing himself away from the table to stand up. He holds out a hand and when Nicky stares at it for a second too long, he receives a very forceful flick to the forehead. “Stop doing that!” Joe says over Nicky’s startled “Ow!” 

Nicky angrily rubs his forehead and glares up at his husband. “I can’t help it! You keep waving your bare hands in my face!” Nicky grumbles, but he does stand up and follow Joe to the door. 

Four days. That’s how long he’s had to put up with Joe’s bare fingers. He should be a saint with how well he’s handled this situation. He grabs the car keys off the hook and opens the door. 

“I have not!” Joe argues, snatching the car keys out of Nicky’s hands and walking out of the house. 

Nicky sniffs. He didn’t want to drive anyways! “Have too!” Nicky says in a slightly louder voice, slamming the door shut. He does not stomp to the car; he is a grown man with legs that are having trouble waking up. 

“Have—no. Nope. We’re not doing this.” Joe snaps and points to the car. “Get in the car, listen to some Britney Spears and don’t look at my fingers. I said don’t look at them!” 

Nicky tears his eyes away from Joe’s bare finger and glares at his husband. What was he? A dog? He curls his hands into paws and in the flattest tone he can muster, says, “Woof.” 

It’s totally worth the unimpressed look Joe shoots him over the car’s hood. 

They listen to Toxic for the entire 15 minute ride. They’re still humming the chorus when they enter the jewelers and they only stop because it’s dead silent inside the store. It’s like a vacuum in there. 

And Booker call us socially unaware, Nicky thinks, matching the owner’s smile. He doesn’t think he succeeds from the way the owner’s eyes flicker between him and Joe. 

“Any particular style you two are looking for?” the owner asks.

“Simple platinum bands,” Joe answers, squeezing Nicky’s hand. It’s infuriating that the only thing Nicky can focus on, is the lack of metal pressing into his skin. 

The owner motions them to a display case and begins to point out some of the rings that match their criteria. 

None of them are right. 

They’re too shiny. Too thin. They have gold. 

Joe taps Nicky and points to a band that has a ring of diamonds embedded in the middle. It looks like it belongs on the hand of a gambler. “Right hand?” And on the hand of the most beautiful man in the world. 

Nicky makes a noise he hopes sounds like agreement. Diamonds are interesting, considering—“You don’t like diamonds.” 

Joe shrugs. “Maybe I don’t know people as well as I thought.” Nicky stares at Joe—who keeps his eyes firmly on the display case—and they need to talk. Not here and not now, obviously. But they need to talk about the giant French-shaped hole that’s only going to get bigger in the next century if left unattended. 

The owner clears their throat and pulls out the ring Joe’s been looking at for awhile now. “We can add engravings to all of our rings.”

Joe takes the ring with a small smile, “Thank you, but we’ll most likely add engravings at a later date.” Nicky watches as he slowly spins the ring in a circle before sliding it to the second knuckle of his right ring-finger. “Not bad,” Joe says, tilting his hand side-to-side. 

It’s…different. Nicky’s not used to having this much light glint off that finger, but it’s not bad. Might even be good. He can probably get used to it. 

Joe smiles upon seeing the approval on Nicky’s face and slides the ring off. “We’ll take this in a size 10.” 

Nicky chooses a much more sensible ring. It’s a relatively thick band with a hammered texture around the middle to match Joe’s. It looks good on Nicky’s left ring-finger and even better on Joe’s left index-finger. 

“And this one in a size 12,” Joe tells the owner, holding Nicky’s ring. Joe shakes his head at Nicky, “12. You’ve got fat fingers.” 

Fat? 

Nicky squawks and pokes his husband in the side. “They’re not fat! You just have feminine fingers!” 

“Feminine? These are the hands of an artist!” Joe exclaims, holding both of his hands up. There he goes again, waving his bare hands like a madman. 

Nicky slaps them away before he can get distracted and nods, all faux-sincerity. “If you say so, habibi.” 

“You two are going to last,” the owner interrupts with a laugh, contradicting their earlier impression and sets both rings down in front of them. Nicky trades a look with Joe. They have no idea. “See! You’re already wordlessly communicating!” 

“We’ve had…practice,” Nicky says. The smile they both share only leaves the poor owner confused. That’s alright though, the rings more than make up for it. 

—

Nicky can’t stop staring at Joe’s hands. More specifically, Nicky can’t stop staring at Joe’s ringed fingers. Every time he looks at them, he hears Britney Spears’ Toxic, sees the small rainbow on Joe’s skin as he held his hands up to the afternoon sun, feels the cold press of metal on both sides of his face as Joe kissed him outside the jewelers. 

It’s warm and full of love and so goddamn perfect. 

[soullikethesea]

Meep. Pain has been pretty bad again yesterday and today. I thought I was just imagining it, but then I got those *intense moments* and I was like "OK, OK, owwwieeeee. I'm listening."

I don't know if it's just because it normally would be the week before my period now. Or because I had some cookies (sugar). Or because I did some difficult inner work.

I let Mae draw a memory and she did, but now it all feels like I'm faking. Maybe it was just a bit too much. I also still feel a lot of shame about the T session.

The good news is that a friend is going to help me with the job process. We had a long call last night and it feels so helpful to have some support. I really need it. (Which I'm also ashamed of, but nvm).

For now I mostly just wish the pain could ease. It's not as intense as it was before BC, but it's still pretty intense back and hip pain, gastrointestinal discomfort/pain, and those sharp pains. Like someone trying to put your intestines on their fork. Plus the dull pains of small patches of pain that sort of radiate out. I can still talk and walk and I'll probably also try to exercise. Hopefully that will help.

I think I need a day of distraction. No trauma stuff, please. But I can feel everything with Mae bubbling below the surface. Like when you keep failing a level in a computer game and keep trying over and over again. It feels like that, but not like I'm consciously doing that. More like it's happening in the background of my mind.

TW physical abuse, body memories

T said that when you keep getting the same flashback, it's likely trying to be heard. But I think I know this memory inside and out. Yesterday I suddenly got bruises fitting with the memory, so that is a bit intense - but I swear I don't need to get bruises to know what it felt like! (Just for those parts in the back).

I know the whole sequence. The texture of the chair. How warm it was in the house. My burning cheeks. The screaming and my crying. The cold floor. Grasping anything I could. The burn marks from being dragged across the floor. The pain of bumping into the side of the door. The hand on my arm. The duplo I had been playing with. How he made sure to close the door behind us. The stern talk about how I was going to have to feel it. - The hitting part is surprisingly blank. - Then back at the table. How everyone looked away. How I still could not eat.

How I forgot this ever happened, until I remembered when I was 10 - when Mae was the main ANP.

She drew the memory using numbers instead of normal lines. All the doors have numbers. The fingers of the hand that dragged me away. (The endlessly big painting that was randomly generated using colour numbers, but I probably can't have known about that back then).

I don't think he said anything while hitting me, but maybe I counted it to myself. Because while drawing I kept hearing counting and then I remembered that nero was originally called zero. Like he started existing right before.

But that feels so, so, so fake. Like I'm just trying to make up a story that fits. Like when you find something in your pocket and you tell yourself what probably happened, but maybe something else happened entirely.

I don't know why this memory keeps coming up. Maybe it's because the physical aspect makes it count as "real abuse" in my head, especially back when we had no idea of the impact of neglect (looking at you, Mae). Maybe it's also because I haven't fully accepted and felt the fear in it.

The fear and anger, because I didn't feel like I was doing anything wrong. And I wasn't trying to be bad. The sun and the heat were massively overstimulating, and then I also had to eat food that felt like it was going to kill me because it was so intense. I refused to eat. And then my dad dragged me away amd hurt me, because I refused.

I was only three or four. My little brother didn't exist yet. It was one of the first dinners with my stepmum.

I think that objectively the memory is not that bad. But I guess it's the message that spoke to me - that I wasn't safe, wasn't going to be protected, wasn't going to be understood or comforted. Was alone. That no matter how much I fought to protect myself, that wasn't always going to work. I was a bad kid. I made them do it to me.

Zero is a good name. Right before. The body and mind try to protect itself. Right that moment, I encapsulated all of my father's shame. The intergenerational trauma and his inner child.

"You beat it in me, that part of you // but I'm going to split us back in two." (Elliott Smith - 2:45 AM).

I still feel the shame and maybe that's why it keeps coming back. The shame and the rage and the internal conflict of being good vs. bad. It is such a strong drive for repetition, for trying to solve the conflict somehow. I still feel that same fear from back then whenever I have contact with my family now. Even when it's only a small memory in everything that happened.

I still don't know how to process it.