#{/One arm got quite literally impaled; the other got a few burns as did parts of his side}

[blindedguilt]

@booksofthelibrary

"Look! They fit perfectly! And they make my feet all warm! They can't be cold now!" She wanted to make him happy.

"and besides! Here!" She holds out a small box, simple in it's design. And within is a carved Daffodil charm made of minerals that were painted over with such attention and love. A charm that matches the very own in her hair, that had a loop for a chain or rope or in any way that he would be willing to wear it. She smiles so earnestly at him.

"Like this, we are always together... And...and I really wanted to show you how much you mean to me...Happy Birthday."

(from Daffy to Lukhege obv!)

"......" Lukhege's sharp gaze turned off to the side for a moment, not saying a word. Half of him was left wondering, did she really like them? Or was it just needless flattery to bring him back to earth? The other half of Lukhege had simply grown too caught up in his own anger and the remnants of his own resentment towards the eldest to care or acknowledge anything else that deigned to acknowledge him.

'The least that lout could have done was keep his mouth shut,' he thought — yet, a small, small part of him knew that Leonard meant no harm in his comment. Just the opposite; he cared about Daffy's well-being and simply went to express that concern... But still, what right did he think he had to get involved? The very thought made his blood boil. Lukhege's jaw clenched tight.

As the feeling of rage only seemed to rise from his turned back, it seemed at first that he was reluctant to turn his gaze back to Daffy's offering and soft voice.

"Daffodil..." Though his expression remained taut and stern with what was left of his bubbling rage, there was something that softened in his eyes as he studied the little charm. It was just like the flower she wore in her hair; he had laid eye upon it enough times to be certain of that. But... Lukhege quickly averted his now-softened eyes away from the charm, from her gaze.

"You know I don't like—" The boy started to protest for his own sake, not wanting to be moved so, but promptly fell quiet. A pause, and he turned the charm delicately around in his already worn hands again. There was no hiding the faint fondness that grew on his features the more those words ate at him... Where could he put it? Somewhere safe. Somewhere he could easily look at it. Somewhere he could remember, as much as that part of him didn't want to.

Somewhere safe... His mind brought itself back to his bandaged arms, the raid on his village that wounded them — He vividly remembered what it was like just before the torching. He had just finished his work helping one barley farmer move his wares, and was standing atop a small hill in an opening in the forest, not far from their village. He remembered staring off — He hadn't remembered what he was doing there, but he remembered Laum running up to him in a breathless, teary-eyed panic. "We have to find Riversal!"

The rest... Lukhege didn't remember it too well. He could recall the smell of sulfur, blood, and smoke. The sound of fire, the sound of screams from men, women, and children, and swords. Pulling Riversal by the arm. A cry from his little brother as the Empire blade pulled back to strike him — a sudden, unfathomable pain as it ran through his own arm last second in place.

He had been thrown into a burning fire at one point — resulting in what would be a long bout of incapacitation of his other arm. Riversal had lost his cloak. And Laum... He hadn't forgotten how he had to be drag him away from the bloodied body of their mother, the last and longest link to normalcy shared by any of the three.

That Daffy had actually sought him out reminded him of that comfort, that normalcy — Naturally, while their mother would have given him a corrective hit on the head said something like "Pitying yourself won't get you anywhere", Daffy's kindness was far... Softer. He didn't like the feeling of being coddled and yet, he was reminded of those days with his village, his mother, the days Leonard would fret over him before he left. It was as unfamiliar to him as it was nostalgic — in a way, it frightened him.

...But she meant only the best. Lukhege knew that. They all did — it's why they lauded their being together so. Lukhege took a deep breath to calm himself, flipping and feeling the way the edges of the charm poked between his fingers. "I was a pest, wasn't I..." He muttered vaguely, letting brown eyes flick momentarily back up to her face. A thin, yet still already worn hand carefully moved back a thread of stray hair and barely rested the thumb on her cheek. Lukhege turned his gaze the other way — he was sure his own had turned red as he did it.

"Daffodil... I appreciate this." He spoke softly. He wasn't lying when he said he hated celebrating his birthday, but this warmed his heart like nothing before it. "I'll take good care of it— I'll leave this in my pocket in wait of when I can find it's proper place. Thank you. Really."

[monty-whatshisname]

*Untitled Story*

Chapter 1

***

“Hey, John.”

“Hello, Brody.” The newcomer stood in the direct middle of the hall, staring down his nose at me with an elegant expression. “Why did you stay behind yesterday?”

“Detention,” I shrugged, gingerly attempting to pass on his right. “It happens sometimes.”

He lifted an arm to block me. I froze as the cuff of his pristine white shirt brushed against my chest “Ah. So where are you going now?”

“To class?” I tried to swallow, but every muscle was burning. I felt like if I moved another inch, I'd regret everything. John was a newcomer to my school. He'd only been here a few weeks, but had already gained the admiration of practically everyone he locked eyes with. “I’m not interested in joining your little fanclub, sir.”

Dunno where the “sir” came from, but apparently it was the wrong move. I refused to look at his face, but his arm visibly tensed, fingers twitching and regaining composure in the span of a blink. “What?” His voice, usually so vanilla, had suddenly spiked. He cleared his throat and tried again “What on earth are you talking about?”

“You’re not normal,” I muttered, grabbing his arm to push past to my classroom.

He got his fingers laced backwards around my hand, catching me as I passed “What was that, Brody?”

“Nothing.”

“No, really,” he rotated under his arm so his face was barely inches away from mine “You can tell me. I’m not insulted easily.” His breath smelled like an abandoned candle store: sweet, smooth…tinged with must.

I bit my lip and dared a glance up into his eyes. Oh, mercy, they were so fake. Like little marbles sitting where his eyes should've been. “I…I said you’re…you’re not normal!”

“Eh?” John’s voice croaked in surprise, his eyes lighting up with a brief spark of realism. I'd caught him completely off guard.

There was silence for a moment. The hall was empty, the final bell already rung. The only noise was the murmur of teachers behind classroom doors, as if the two of us had slipped into a crack of frozen time and space.

John's marble-eyes held steady contact with mine as he pulled away. “Wh-where on earth did you get such a silly notion…” he mumbled. He turned away and started walking, attempting to shield his rapidly darkening expression “Who’s protecting you…?”

“Me!” Emboldened by the fact I'd finally touched a nerve, I stepped after him “What alien is controlling you?”

“No one's 'controlling' me.” John walked a little faster, his answer surprisingly blunt. “Isn’t your classroom the other way?”

“We go to the same class, pal,” I have longer legs than he does.

He started half-jogging “Leave me alone, then.”

“Not gonna.”

This is stupid, my brain was saying. But I was too hungy to stop now. Two weeks of nothing but trying to subtly rope me into his growing gaggle of "friends", and now he couldn’t even stand up to a little odd comment.

“What are you hiding~?” I singsonged, skipping next to him as he tried to go faster.

I saw his eyes flash, with what emotion, I couldn’t tell, and he broke into a dead run. His perfectly shined shoes made a pinging noise against the hall floor with every step, becoming successively more deliberate with every stride.

I finally had to break into a trot behind him, still tailing him enough to brush the back of his sweater. “Dude-huff-you running only makes this worse!” How long was this hallway? “You look-puff-really guilty right now~!”

His feet hit the floor simultaneously and he sprinted, flinging his book bag into a row of lockers with an echoing crash. We barely heard the shout of an exasperated teacher telling us to slow down. Nothing mattered now. Reality was an insignificant blur. I had prey to catch and it wouldn’t. stop. running!

The impact happened before I even had a chance to register the wall. John stumbled to a stop and spun around to face me, but I slammed full-force into his stomach. The world was fuzzy and my breath came hard, but I heard John's breathing come just as ragged and realized I had him pinned.

“Where’re all your friends now, Goody-Two-Shoes?” I huffed, a carnivorous grin spreading helplessly over my face.

“Boys! Knock that off this instant!” A voice from behind. Judging from the footsteps and flash of grey curls, it was our substitute teacher, Mr. Elliot.

“Speak!” I hissed. I grabbed John’s arms and forced them over his head “Are you crazy? Are you scared of me? What is it?”

“Mister Maria! Get off him!” Elliot’s voice was edged with a shrill enough pitch to make your ears boil.

But I didn’t let him go. I shook his arms “Tell me!”

John mumbled something I didn’t quite hear.

“What?”

“It doesn’t matter.” John raised his head and locked eyes with me. I realized his fingers were gripping, no, sinking into the wall behind him. The wall fragmented like a punched mirror, cracks spidering outward in a chorus of unholy creaking. I felt like I was watching through the eyes of someone else. I couldn’t move.

John leaned backward into the fracture and grabbed my wrists. I was flung over his head, splinters of wall scraping along my body, and plunged into the dusky abyss on the other side. Gracefully, John leaped off the edge of the hallway and hovered down beside me, a crooked smile spreading across his face “Got you.”

***

Stop.

Pause game.

Continue?

My eyes felt runny and heavy. I pried them open regardless.

My limbs were suspended in midair, and yet they felt impossibly heavy. My head? No, I couldn’t move that either. Blinking felt like dragging a 100-pound weight through a pit of half-dry cement. My vision flickered and crackled, everything swimming like an old-fashioned TV screen. What was this? Hello?

Is this an after-dream? The air certainly felt warm and thick. Like a blanket. Am I asleep? This heaviness…I wanted it to drag me down into its conclusion. Wrap me in its singularity and never permit me to wake up…wake up…

Greetings, mortal.

The words weren’t so much spoken as they sort of just appeared in my head, scrolling by like rpg dialogue.

Hello?

My lips couldn’t move, but the word seemed to hover in the air.

Hello!

I wasn’t alone. The rainbow static burned at my eyesight, but I could still make out a vague form. No arms, large shoes, round glasses…curly hair…? Elliot??

Hello!

Elliot repeated. He didn’t seem to move, but his expression changed. This was no surprise to me, honestly. He had always been a little off.

What happened?

You fell through a wall.

Well, I mean…duh.

What about now? What’s happening?

I’m protecting you.

Why?

Elliot's face flickered to a different expression.

The wood shards created by Johnny’s little mess will impale you in about 1.32 milliseconds.

You stopped time?? Get me out of here, then!

Another flicker.

I cannot. I am not that powerful.

I noticed an earring swinging from his right lobe. It was gold, studded with exactly two red gems. Despite my grainy vision, I could see every detail of it clearly.

Can you do anything, then? Or…what was the point of this?

I can give you a choice: you can die, and the one you call John will reveal himself to you. Or, I can administer rebirth and you can find out on your own.

My eyes got lost in his words, reality feathering at the corners of my gaze like a corrupted video tape. So this confirmed my suspicion that John wasn’t normal, but more questions welled up because of that. He's going to kill me in…what was it?

1.32 milliseconds.

Yeah. He's going to kill me in a literal second. Does this mean he would hurt the rest of the school? Why would he want to kill me, anyway? Not even the popular girls go that far if someone doesn’t like them.

But on the other hand…my parents. My teachers. My family. It’s complicated, but…I don’t want to put a funeral on their plate, of all things.

What’s does rebirth entail?

You lose your humanity. But gain a second chance.

I stopped.

What…kind of…

Are you scared of teeth?

No…?

It took a minute to fully process. This was something only talked about in joking, disregarded as myth.

Please choose quickly. Our time is almost up.

I felt a tremor in the air, like distant thunder. I wasn’t breathing, I realized. The only thing that wasn’t a part of the air were mine and Elliot’s thoughts. The connection flowed freely between us. I understood everything. And so did he.

I don’t want my parents to notice, okay?

They won’t. At least for a few weeks.

Meh. I'll take what I can get.

Elliot smiled. He tipped his head back to reveal the full extent of his glistening teeth, two small fangs pushing through, widening…stretching…sharpening…

His earring caught the dim light like a gleaming eye.

Continue game.

Loading new files, please wait.

***

The air dropped me out of its grasp, a searing light ripping across my eyeballs. The sound of wood chips plinking to the ground below nearly deafened me. I squeezed my eyes shut as a million little wooden knives bit my flesh and my skull fractured into the pavement. Two little spots of red, residual light from Elliot’s earring, lingered in my mind as everything else faded away.

Loading complete!

[singingvio]

So I’ve got a FS+ Lab Experiment AU where Green, Red, Blue, Vio and Shadow are lab experiments with different powers at an illegal research facility and Zelda, Erune, and Vaati are detectives working on the case about the facility and are tasked with taking care of these kids they found.

I’m going to talk about it under the cut, but it’s a little dark so uh be warned I guess? There’s death mentions around every freaking corner.

So first of all Zelda, Erune, and Vaati are adults who work together at a detective agency. The agency is very famous, and Zelda’s dad owns it. Zelda and Vaati’s parents used to be business partners before Vaati’s father died and he moved in with his uncle, Ezlo, so they’ve been very close their whole lives despite their personalities clashing drastically with each other.

Erune and Zelda were roommates in college and became best friends extremely fast. The trio planned to start training to be detectives at Zelda’s dad’s agency since they love solving mysteries and have always been interested in work like that. Eventually they became some of the best detectives there.

Zelda also has a housemate, Link, who’s training to be a doctor and is a part-time volunteer at an elementary school, where he helps out in the nurse’s office and is also a hall monitor. Vaati had been his English tutor in college and had convinced Zelda to let Link live with her after I... think he got kicked out of his house? For some reason? It’s never really explained and Link avoids the subject like the plague but that’s everyone’s guess.

((Oh yeah by the way Vaati is Minish Cap Vaati, little-bit-nicer Vaati, not giant-purple-ball-of-evil Vaati from Four Swords. That’s Ezlo’s actual son and Vaati’s cousin. We never really see him.))

So Zelda, Vaati, and Erune get assigned to work on a case about an illegal facility doing illegal experiments on living people. They’re supposed to find out where it is, what’s going on, and what type of experiments, and then after that they have to shut it down, possibly by force, and save as many experiments there as they can.

So, when they go to literally storm the place with a bunch of guards, it immediately turns into a battlefield and Zelda, Vaati, and Erune find a room full of almost every experiment in the building. Sort of. There are over thirty experiments in there, all of them dead and hanging from the ceiling, most by branches that impaled them. About a third seem to actually have been killed by the branches, a few are burned, and a lot of them are turned to stone.

They find one of the surviving experiments and they infer that he was one of the ones that killed the other experiments based on his abilities, which are nature-based. This is Green, a nine-year-old who is very scared and can speak very little, extremely broken English.

He introduces them to Red, who is a nine-year-old fire sprite experiment and was the one who did the burning. He’s very nice and immediately hugs Zelda as a greeting. The two tell them where the other three living experiments are and the detectives meet Blue, who is eight years old and unlike Red and Green can’t speak at all and instead just kind of hisses at them angrily until he accepts that they’re not going to hurt any of them. He’s a sea monster experiment whose most defining physical feature is that his skin is blue, he glows in the dark, and his hair is made of octopus tentacles. He’s also got fins on his arms and back.

Finally, they find Vio, who is a gorgon-siren fusion experiment who can turn people to stone and has a singing voice that can hypnotize people. His eyes are covered by a blindfold so he can’t see, though he has excellent hearing and the snakes he has for hair try and help him get around. He doesn’t understand what they’re saying yet, however. He can speak fluent English because one of his powers is voice-based and therefore he should probably know how to speak.

He then says he’s not a very good teacher because of how little English he was able to teach Green and Red, and then Shadow appears! Yay! The two have a very strange argument about how Vio’s actually a great teacher, and while Shadow appears to be fluent in English, his sentences are very short. Shadow is eight, and Vio is seven, making him the youngest. After an interrogation from Vio about their true intentions, Zelda convinces them to also let them take them to safety away from the facility.

They round up the five kids and have to make their way through a pretty violent fight in the entrance hall, because those workers weren’t going down without a fight. Green and Blue are pretty slow and Vio can’t see, so Vaati, Erune, and Zelda carry them out while Red and Shadow are behind them. They make it out of the facility and soon find out that Shadow’s right wing has been shot and it’s basically shredded from the bullet. They use Vio’s blindfold, making him keep his eyes closed so he won’t accidentally turn them to stone, to slow the bleeding and drive back to the agency. Shadow falls asleep before they get there from exhaustion and Vio makes Zelda carry him instead of waking him up, insisting that Shadow waking up would result in him being in a lot of pain and that it was better to let him sleep.

((RAVIO IS THE RECEPTIONIST AT THE AGENCY AND IS PROMPTLY TERRIFIED OF THE EXPERIMENTS UNTIL ZELDA EXPLAINS THAT THEY’RE LITERALLY CHILDREN))

So they get to the agency and meet with Zelda’s dad and agree that since Zelda and Link’s house is the largest and Zelda’s already befriended the experiments, it’d be best for them to stay there for the forseeable future.

So they get to Zelda’s house and Link immediately befriends the kids because he’s really good with kids and then he freaks out because Shadow’s still bleeding quite a lot and immediately goes to stitch his wound up and bandage it. Vio goes with them. Shadow absolutely refuses to let Link numb his wing beforehand because he hates losing control of anything, including his nerves, so Link reluctantly agrees because Vio’s basically giving him a death glare despite his eyes being shut and he’s kind of scared of them both. So Shadow just keep’s Vio’s hand in a death grip as Link stitches his wound shut without any numbing and Zelda scolds him later, which Shadow promptly ignores and insists it wasn’t that bad.

Link and Zelda discuss going shopping for them all the next day and how that would work, because they really want to bring them along but only Red and Vio look somewhat normal, and Red’s skin is grey and Vio has snakes for hair. They also really want to send them to school at some point, but they decide to hold that conversation off for a later date and instead help the kids all get situated, which results in a pillow fight that Link lost and no one knows who one but they assume either Red or Shadow.

That’s kind of where it’s left off for now but like. I worked pretty hard on this and I’m probably going to post more later, all tagged with warnings because again, this AU is a bit dark.

[wwwafflewrites]

Team Free Will+ Getting Stranded

Part 1

Both Winchesters would admit that the fight wasn't going well. Indeed, even with Castiel and Gabriel on their side, that ought to have been enough to stop an army of demons, they were losing. Sorely.

Dean ducked and met with Sam once again, fighting as one as the demons surrounded them. At one point, their backs were touching. Sam had the demon knife while Dean had an angel blade.

Castiel was doing his own thing, mostly with his own angel blade. He hardly had enough juice to smite one demon, much less an entire army.

Gabriel just kind of happened to be there. Wrong place, wrong time. It was actually quite impressive; Gabriel was still recovering from his time with Asmodeus, and now after only burning his tormentor twenty-eight hours ago, he was smiting demons again. It was quite the unexpected turnout, considering two days ago Gabriel was a terrifed, broken victim who had suffered to an unfathomable number of years of torture.

Too bad everyone was too occupied to notice the demon painting a bloody symbol along the wall. By the time Castiel saw it, it was too late. The demon slapped their hand on the sigil, splattering blood, and Team Free Will felt the air tremble at the immense power.

Castiel's eyes had blown wide. "That sigil is forbidden!" he yelled. But since when did demons care about forbidden? He had then put his hand out, reaching for Dean's and Sam's shoulder to warm them; he had to warn them. The force of the sigil knocked the wind out of him before he could speak a word.

Castiel was in the sky, falling at breakneck speeds. He could smell the burning grace of his wings, which had ignited in the heat of the fall. He was spinning, out of control, and his wings were too broken up to cushion much of anything. He then realized there was nowhere to land except back to Earth because Heaven was locked.

Then he realized his hand was still holding on to something. A jacket… a shoulder. His eyes managed to look at who it was connected to. It was Dean, who was unconscious, likely from the unbearable G-force he was enduring. And with all the strength he had left, Castiel brought him closer, curling his wings around the fragile human, for otherwise there was even fewer a chance of the hunter surviving such a fall.

Cas frantically looked for Sam, but Gabriel's voice called out before he could worry to death over the younger brother, "I've got the moose!" The archangel was trying to sound strong, words still heavy with sass like such a fall was above him, but Castiel could hear the strain in his voice.

They were still falling, with little choice of where they were to land. Castiel could see miles of wooded area, through the blur of his vision. This was definitely far from any civilization.

The oak tree branches hit them like bullets, and they could barely acknowledge the pain of it all before they hit solid ground.

It hurt so much that Castiel didn't dare breathe. His wings unfurled on their own, revealing a mostly unharmed Dean Winchester. The hunter was still unconscious, but it relieved Castiel like nothing else. Dean was alive.

Gabriel stood, head in his hands like he was only dizzy.

Cas shouldn't have been surprised—Gabriel was an archangel, and he was not.

Said archangel eventually snapped out of his stupor, checking on his brother before letting his face show a flicker of vulnerability: worry. Worry for Castiel.

Gabriel moved Dean from off of the angel, scowling and cursing out the hunter for using his brother as a pillow. Cas tried to voice that he didn't mind, but nothing came out. Why couldn't he speak?

Gabriel was staring at his chest. "Kiddo."

Cas then realized there was a branch impaled into his sternum. Huh. He hadn't noticed before.

"Alright, alright bite onto this." Gabriel offered him a convenient stick.

Castiel did as he was told like a soldier.

Dean came to before Gabriel had the chance to work out how to remove Cas from the piercing branch. The human rolled, grunting but overall he was fine. He blinked up at the pair of angels and their situation, and suddenly he forgot his own pains. He scrambled up, stumbling over to Gabriel's side. "Cas," he breathed.

Gabriel motioned to Dean. "I need your help."

"He's… Cas, he's…God, he's..."

"He's not going to live if you don't give me a hand right now!" Gabriel commanded, the breeze coincidentally becoming heavy. His eyes were angry, tinged with gold.

Dean nodded, staring in horror at his friend.

The archangel, held the left side of Castiel's still body, and he gestured for Dean to take the right. "On three."

"Three…"

Castiel closed his eyes. He bit into the stick and it dented under his teeth.

"Two…"

He tried not to move. Tried not to feel.

"One!"

They pulled Castiel away from the offending branch, and the angel couldn't help as he cried out, slumping into the dirt a foot away. His breathing was ragged and weak.

Gabriel tenderly examined Castiel's back, staring at the invisible mess of feathers with a pained, sympathetic expression. "Ouch, Cassie." He rolled him onto his back, crouching and placing his hand on top of the wound. As golden light flooded the area, Gabriel staggered, throwing out a hand to catch himself from getting a face-full of dirt.

Dean reached out, steadying Gabriel.

"Thanks Dean-o," the archangel gasped, and then passed out. The hunter caught him, rolled him onto his back beside Castiel.

Dean, paranoid as ever, checked Castiel's injury, and was very relieved to find just a shallow wound and some bruising. Cas's chest was moving with strong breaths. The angel would be in a lot of pain for a while, but ultimately he'd be okay. Assuming they ever got out of here.

He paused, allowing himself to take a much needed breath. Castiel was alive.

"What am I going to do with you two?" He then looked to his right, where Sam was sprawled in a crater. "Three," he corrected.

Dean took a seat on a nearby log, then realized his hands were shaking. He made the mistake of looking left, where blood coated the branch, and he felt sick. He'd seen a lot of terrible things, but that might have taken the cake. Cas, that nerdy dorky little guy, should not have been strung up like that. Dean just couldn't erase the image from his mind.

He didn't know how long he sat there in shock, but eventually Gabriel stirred and sat up, groaning. The archangel spared a glance to stunned Dean, and then he stood up. "You okay there, Dean-o? Hey, your boyfriend's gonna be fine. Seriously."

"He's not my—"

"Sure, he isn't. Could have fooled me." Dean continued to protest, but the archangel ignored him. Gabriel shook his head in disbelief, then made it over to Sam, who was still out cold. He loomed over him, lightly kicking his arm. "Wakey wakey, Sammich. You missed the party."

Sam finally stirred. "What—?" Then he gasped and jolted up, wincing. "Where..?"

"Middle of nowhere," Dean told him.

"Disneyland without the Disney," Gabriel added.

Sam blinked, processing what they were telling him. He asked, "You can just zap us out of here, right? I mean, you're an archangel."

It didn't fool anyone when Gabriel shrugged nonchalantly. "Yeah, no can do, kiddo. Would have done it already if I could. My wings are fried from the sigil. Also keep in mind that we kept you guys from roasting in that fall. I mean, my wings are in rough shape, but Castiel's are even nastier." Gabriel glanced to Castiel, and then said in a lower tone, turning to Dean, "You're lucky he's loyal, Dean-machine, because those things look like they went through a meat grinder." 

"So how long will it take you two to heal up?"

Gabriel was dreading this question. He sort of wished he could just ignore it, but he knew they wouldn't let it go. Stubborn bastards. "Me? Maybe a few weeks. Him? I don't know. He may set back plans by a few months." To be honest, the archangel didn't even want to acknowledge it. Who wanted to sit around in a stinky forest for that long?

Dean's face reflected Gabriel's internal feelings and conflictions. "A few months?!" 

Gabriel glared. "Hush up. It ain't all bad, I still have some mojo, yeah?" He attempts to snap a lollipop from midair, but winces when a paralyzing pain stops him, like his grace is shredding, and he staggers, blinking away the grey in his vision. "Holy—okay, maybe not. We might need to stick to hunting, boys. Literally."

The archangel lists to the side, and Dean manages to catch him again.

"Dude, sit down or something," Dean said gruffly, then guided the archangel to a clear patch of ground.

"Glad I have you holding my hand, Dean-bean," Gabriel said halfheartedly.

The hunter scoffed. "Sam, you babysit. I'm gonna quick check out the area."

"It's almost sunset," Sam reminded him. "We're probably on the other side of the world for all we know. It's not noon anymore, Dean."

"Yeah, I know. That's why I said 'quick'." And then Dean left Sam alone with the mouthy archangel. Great.

"You okay there, Samantha? Think you might be growing a worry wart." Gabriel grinned.

"Bite me."

"Maybe later."

Sam rolled his eyes. He sat himself down on a nearby log, then noticed the drying blood a foot away. Alarmed, he asked, "What happened?"

"Hot wings over here got himself impaled."

"What?!"

"Relax. I healed him. Nearly drained me, but he'll live." Gabriel paused. "He's almost human, right?"

Sam let himself relax a bit, but his stomach twisted. He felt a little sick looking at Cas. "Yeah."

Gabriel whistled. "When he fell, he fell hard, huh?"

"Yeah." Sam looked up, expecting to see an expression of sarcasm and indifference, but the archangel was looking at Cas sadly.

"Poor kid," he said. "I hope you know what he went through to side with you knuckleheads." But then Gabriel looked up and saw Sam's face. He closed his eyes in complete exasperation. "He didn't tell you."

"What do you mean?" Sam's eyebrows went down in concern. "Tell us what?"

"What heaven did to him. Of course he wouldn't tell you. That idiot—you can't see it, so of course he wouldn't bring it up."

"What? What'd they do?"

"Just like hell, there are parts of heaven that don't obey time. What you thought was a couple days… well, they tore him up for years. They brainwashed him with simulations worse than torture. You're lucky he's so strong. Most aren't." Gabriel curled his lip in disgust at the thought. "Most are so broken they become mindless soldiers."

"Like Anna?"

"Yeah, like Anna." Gabriel said. "Heaven is corrupt, and Castiel got the brunt of it because he was the brave one." He let out a breathy laugh, "I'm supposed to be the Archangel of Justice. Funny, how he was the brave one and I was the coward."

Gabriel laughed, but it wasn't funny.

///

Dean was a bit disoriented by the setting sun. Like, he knew and understood why it was setting, but his brain just didn't like it. Dean wanted to blame it on time, but he knew it wasn't about that.

It reminded him of Purgatory.

The long shadows, the neverending trees. Dean could feel an old, locked part of him starting to creep out. Predatory and feral. Scary.

Dean gripped his gun tight, hoping that Sam was making a fire and setting camp. He didn't know what he planned to do, but he had needed to get out of there. If only for a while.

Dean lucked out big time. The sound of the gunshot reverberated off of the surrounding trees and had nearby birds fleeing their nests. He scored a big, stupid turkey, who didn't seem too threatened by Dean's presence. In its own way, that wasn't a good sign. That meant there weren't people nearby to hunt these animals. Or many predators, for that matter.

The hunter was proud to drag a turkey back to base camp, though.

He was also happy to see that Sam had built a fire. The wind was calm and it made feeding the flames easy. Sam's three layers had now become two; his jacket was draped over Cas's still form.

Dean held the turkey up by its neck, flashing a smug smile at Sam, who watched Dean, unamused.

"Wow, fancy," Gabriel muttered. "Guess we got some Dean-cuisine, huh?"

"Shut up," Dean said cooly.

Gabriel was reluctantly drifting to sleep, curled up against a log, which wasn't a very good sign at all. "Just need a big recharge. I should be a bit better by morning. So should Cassie," the archangel assured them.

The Winchesters watched over as the angels slept, and the irony was not lost on them.

"Aw, aren't they just angels," Dean said.

Sam sighed, warming his hands over the well-made fire. "So is this it? We just wait until their mojo is back?"

It was Dean's turn to sigh. "Seems like."

///

Not even an hour later, they were interrupted by the rumble of a jeep off in the distance. Both Winchesters were awake and shared glances.

Soon, a man—a park ranger—was visible through the trees and eyed their camp. He then saw the dead turkey. "This is the Theodore Roosevelt National Park. You can't hunt here."

Sam's eyes widened. "We didn't know. I mean—we'd like to leave. We're lost."

"You didn't know?" The ranger was disbelieving.

Dean clapped his hands together. "Don't know how we got here, actually. We just woke up. We just want to leave, man." It was mostly true.

"Our friends are hurt. Could you help us?" Sam added.

The ranger made him way over the Cas, who was still completely out of it. Dean came over and lifted the angel's shirt to reveal the wound. For Cas, this was nothing, but for any normal person this would look serious.

The ranger's eyes furrowed. "My car is parked not far from here. Can you help me carry him?" He then looked to Gabriel. "He okay?"

"Uh, yeah, he's just a hard sleeper," Sam assured him.

Dean offered, "Here, I'll wake 'im up." He walked over to the archangel while Sam and the ranger helped move Cas. Dean prodded and poked Gabriel's shoulder. "Up and at 'im sunshine, we're gettin' outta here."

Gabriel woke with a start and scowled. "So much for beauty sleep." He took Dean's offered hand up.

"You can get your eight hours in an actual bed, how about that?" Dean said snarkily. "Now get a move on. The ranger's car is that'a way."

"Ranger?"

"We're in a National Park."

"You certainly are," the ranger answered, apparently having been listening for a while. "Your friends are in the car. If you don't mind, I'd like my own beauty sleep as well."

They complied.

Once they were settled in the car, with Gabriel in the front, Castiel's head rested on Sam's shoulder, and Dean on his other side, the park ranger sighed, looking at them through the rearview. He offered a tired smile to Dean. "So you really don't know how you got here, huh?" The man's crooked teeth gave him a slight lisp.

"Nope," Dean replied sincerely. He looked to Sammy, who was out like a light. "Look, we're sorry for hunting here. Really. To be honest, we thought we were in the boonies."

"Well, I suppose I'd rather you go off hunting in the park than the other alternative."

Dean shifted, now wary. "Why?" Dread filled his veins. That was the kind of vague thing that a monster , demon, or Anything That Wants to Kill Sam and Dean™ said before they lunged out.

But the ranger didn't attack, and Dean relaxed some. "Well, this has been going on for a couple of weeks. We've been finding people out in the middle of the park like you bunch every night"

"And they don't know how they got there, either?"

The man's lips thinned. "They're dead when we find them. Mountain lions, we figure."

Dean straightened. "You figure?"

"Yeah, well, I mean, they look like animal attacks. Big predator. But it's just strange. Mountain lions don't often come around these parts, much less attack people. They're solitary animals. Plus, there were these… fang marks on all the victims."

"Fang marks?"

"Nothing like I've ever seen. Drained each victim of all their blood. One of my coworkers swore up and down he's seen a vampire the other night. But that's crazy talk, right?" The ranger exhaled. "I just don't know how these people are all getting into the park."

"You find out who they were?"

"We've matched some people. I just don't know. I mean, one man went missing in Florida and two days later he just shows up dead in North Dakota? We matched a couple from Michigan, too. Sam deal. Where were you last?"

Dean but his lip. "Massachusetts."

"Christ."

The hunter in Dean was suspicious. This sounded like their kind of gig. Did they really just stumble onto a case? Ah, what the heck. I'll just ask him. "You know of any nearby hotels by chance?"

The tanger looked surprised. "You're planning on staying?"

"Well, I mean, we get planted in a National Park, might as well go sightseeing." Dean offered an innocent smile.

"You don't have family to go back to?"

"Nah. Just us. We like to roadtrip anyway."

The ranger nodded. "You sure everyone's in shape to be sightseeing?"

That was true; Castiel was not in any condition to be running around hunting monsters. "All the more reason to stay. I don't want to move him around anytime soon."

The ranger didn't look so convinced, but he didn't say anything.

///

Sam woke up in a hotel bed. 

"You finally up, Sleeping Beauty?" Dean's voice sounded from across the room.

Sam wiped at his face, blinking until his vision was clear and he could make out Dean sitting at a table…

Researching.

"What's going on?" he asked. Because if Dean was researching, there was something wrong.

"What, I can't just read a book?"

Sam sent him a disbelieving look.

"Fine. Ranger said they've been finding more than just us. Except the people he found were all dead before they reached 'em." He closed the book, frustrated with it. "Animals attacks, he said."

"Since when were animal attacks our gig? You know this is a National Park, right Dean?"

"But this thing isn't hunting animals, Sam. It's hunting people," Dean said. 

"Probably just mountain lions upping their game, Dean. Civvies aren't that difficult to kill."

"That turkey that I got? It was fearless. Like it'd seen a predator in its life. I'm just sayin'. We've looked into less."

Sam nodded. "I guess you're right."

"'Parently people are disappearing from all over the place. I've been looking into it, Sam. They're coming from all over. Not even just the states. They found two guys from Europe."

Sam's eyebrows furrowed as he thought. "That does sound like our kind of gig."

"Yeah. That's what I've been trying to tell you," Dean snapped.

"So that forbidden sigil that the demons were using… they're using it everywhere?" Sam got out of the bed, walking over to see the research Dean had been doing. "What does the sigil actually do?"

"No idea. That's why I'm researching, Sam," Dean said. "But whatever it was, it must be bad. What kind of sigil sends angels and humans away?"

Sam shook his head. "I don't know."

"I know." Both Winchesters turned to look at Gabriel, who was sitting up in the hotel bed, stretching. "Man, this thing is just not comfortable. You two deal with this all the time?" He snapped, upgrading the bed to something better. "There."

"Thought you didn't have your mojo?"

"Let's just say that power nap kick-started some things." The archangel stood, walking over to the book. We waved his hand casually, letting the pages fly and flap until he thrust his hand forward, stopping the book. "It's a sigil of condemnation. It repels all the followers of God." He looked up at the boys. "It's not perfect. It just repels anything that isn't demonic, and send them here."

"Why?"

"Why does anything do anything? Sigils are just writing. Someone designed it for this purpose. Why? Beats me." Gabriel shrugged. "Whoever made this wanted anything that wasn't a demon to be transported onto this particular land. I'm sure it was just designed for humans, but it managed to send us away too. Probably because we're not demons. I know, it's a shocker."

Dean thought about that. "Cas recognized it too."

"As I said, it's just writing. Whoever designed this thing knew Enochian. I honestly wouldn't be surprised if he did recognize it. That kid's always getting into trouble."

Dean looked to the bed, scowling, but not actually angry. "Damn it, Cas. Wake up already. We need your help."

"Really pour your heart into it, Dean-o. Maybe he'll even wake up," Gabriel said. His sarcasm was palpable.

"Shut up, why don't you."

"Make me."

Sam had had enough of this. "Grow up, both of you. Let's just work on the case, okay?" He snatched his laptop and sat himself on a bed, brooding.

Dean raised his eyebrow at his brother. "Well someone's cranky." He sighed, tapping the book as silence encompassed the room. After several minutes of awkward tension, where Gabriel played with the tips of pages, making them dog-eared while Sam put his full attention on his screen. Finally, he cracked. "Hey, Sammy."

"What?"

"What if it's the chupacabra?" Dean joked, a stupid smile on his face, vainly trying to lighten the mood.

Sam shook his head and brought his eyes back to his computer.

Dean's grin faded. This was going to be a long day.

///

"I... think I found something," Sam finally said after two hours.

Dean was grateful. He felt like his head was going to explode if he read anymore. "What is it?"

Sam sighed, visibly hesitating. "You were right, Dean. I don't know how, but you were."

Dean looked excited. "I was right?"

"Yeah."

There was a pause.

"Right about what?"

Gabriel snorted.

Sam rolled his eyes. "The chupacabra."

"Oh." Dean looked almost baffled. "That was just a joke, you know."

"Yeah, I know," Sam snapped. "But apparently they've been associated with demons. Even mentioned as demons themselves sometimes." 

Dean had not seen this coming. He had not expected to be right, of all things. "And it's camping out in a National Park why?"

"Honestly? That's probably the best place they could hide. People can't bring in guns, so they're left defenseless."

Gabriel hummed. "The demons are sending people to it, then. Feeding it."

"Wait wait wait. But I thought they only attacked livestock," Dean said.

"Well, it sounds like they just go after the largest prey they can find. In the lore, it was livestock because that's what was out and vulnerable at night, when the chupacabra would strike." Sam shrugged. "Sounds like they would go after farmers too."

"Humans can't be the biggest animal in that park. What about the mountain lions?"

"Prey, Dean. It goes after prey."

"But humans aren't prey. I mean, hell, we're at the top of the food chain!'

"Without tools and weapons? We're prey."

Dean scowled, but after a moment he realized something. "That's why we weren't attacked last night. We had guns, Sammy. Weapons. Last night, we weren't prey." He thought back to the turkey. "We were predators, and it knew that."

"Well, that explains some things." Gabriel looked almost impressed by Dean's deductive skills.

Dean frowned. "How do we kill it?"

"Well, it sounds like people used to stab them with pitchforks when they were found on their farms. So I'd say iron is our best bet… which would make sense if they're a demonic monster."

"Right. Okay. We know why the demons are all buddy buddy with them, then? There's got to be a reason they're feeding it. Demons don't do stuff like this for nothing."

"Dean's right. I mean, he would know," the archangel said bluntly.

Dean glared. The nerve of this guy…

Sam cleared his throat, trying to pull Dean's attention away from the source of his irritation. "Maybe? It says that… well, crap."

"What?" Both Dean and Gabriel asked.

Sam's face had frozen, staring at the letters on his screen. "Well, you know some people thought they were demons? Turns out it could also be said that they could be a type of wild hellhound."

 "Well, crap." Dean echoed. "So, what, the demons lose their pet and now they're trying to lure it back with treats?"

Sam pitched a reluctant sigh. "We should probably ask Crowley."

"Crowley?! After that demon army launched us five states away? No. Nuh uh. Have a Plan B? I mean, we do have an archangel on our hands."

"I'm right here, you know," came a protest from behind them.

"Seriously, Dean. Think about it. We know how to call the actual King of Hell and ask him what's going on, and we're not going to take it?"

"Great to know I'm appreciated." There was a huff.

"Sam, what about a demon army do you not understand? I don't think anyone particularly wants to be launched out of the sky again!"

"What other choice do we have?! We can't speak with the victim's families because they're on the other side of the country, and we can't pose as law enforcement because the ranger would call us out!"

Dean looked light he was going to argue, but then he huffed. "Fine. We call Crowley."

[thelostcatpodcast]

THE LOST CAT PODCAST TRANSCRIPTS: SEASON 5: EPISODE 1: ROCKS IN HIS POCKETS

THE LOST CAT PODCAST TRANSCRIPTS: SEASON 5: EPISODE 1: ROCKS IN HIS POCKETS Released on : 28th March 2020 https://thelostcat.libsyn.com/season-5-episode-1-rocks-in-his-pockets

I have spent a lot of time recounting the adventures i have had trying to find my cat, but not nearly enough recounting the adventures my cat has had while it has been lost.

If you listen to the Special Episode called ‘Pet Detective’ ( https://thelostcat.libsyn.com/special-episode-the-lost-cat-pet-detective ), you can hear about a dark time my cat had while in the city.

Well now I will tell you about an even darker time he had while taking a trip to the country

THE LOST CAT PODCAST BY AP CLARKE SEASON 5, EPISODE 1: ROCKS IN HIS POCKETS

The woods were beautiful, full and green. Gentle winds moved waves through the canopy, and the air was filled with the calming sussurration of life. Healthy forest, rare these days, and quite gorgeous.

And my cat cared for not a bit of it. Walking grumpily through the undergrowth after a long andl eventful journey from the city, my cat only cared for its next meal. It had been far too long. There was a meal on every corner in the city, if you looked in the right bins. But here there were mouldy berries and aggressive squirrels, and, as far as my cat was concerned, squirrels were the worst.

So my cat trudged on, grumpy and hungry, and hungry and grumpy, and increasingly so of all of them.

But... then... my cat felt a ripple in the air, and a rhythm in the earth. A clean, lapping motion. My cat’s ears pricked up. There was water nearby, lots of it and in it, yes, fish.

So he walked a little faster, the undergrowth cleared, and the forest opened out in to a huge lake, beautiful, fresh, clear, calm, with the verdant forests all around reflecting upon its mirrored surface.

My cat walked up to the dulcitly lapping shore, sniffing at it.

He considered going in the water, he did. But it was cold.

He would, if he had to.

He totally would.

But he saw a boat, bobbling about, making its way back to shore, and reeking of very recently caught fish. The boat was full of younger human adults, My cat could tell this from the smell of beer, weed, and unwashed genitals accompanied by a constant barrage of territorial noises. They seemed friendly enough, but my cat knew to keep back, and he quietly watched them land.

They got out, pushing and pulling at each other, hitting each other, wriggling their hips, and generally making a lot of noise, throwing their empty cans away into the grass.

They wore bright, small clothes.

But they took the fish with them, a huge shiny gloriously fresh fish that my cat could eat for a week. They hung it from a pole and it dangled as they walked up the hill towards the buildings.

So my cat picked up the pace through the long grass to keep up with the fish. As my cat passed one of the cans the humans had thrown, his foot flipped a twig that pushed the can in to another and they both clattered down the hill back towards the water, dislodging a few rocks as they went.

One of the humans, a woman with dark hair, glasses, and a jumper on, spun round, checking the treeline.

My cat froze in the long grass.

“Hey guys, did you hear anything?” she said.

The others just laughed. “No, what?”

“I think someone’s following us.”

“Don’t be crazy Maisie, come on!”

The woman called Maisie hesitated, looking out over where my cat was standing. “Well...ok.” she said, and then she turned back to the path and carried on with the others, accepting a can of drink from one of the men.

And my cat followed.

When they got to the buildings they split up.

“Hey, Deeber, put that thing in the store-house, yeah?” said one of the men. “It’ll stink up the house!”

“Yeah OK. I can salt it up a little, too. Make it taste gorgeous.”

“Whatever, you’re still gonna burn it on the fire tonight!”

And they made a bunch more territorial noises and went inside the house. Deeber went in to the store-house off to the other side of the path, a large wooden building full of shelves, tools, and other equipment for the upkeep of the camp, along with endless cans, bottles of wine and packets of snacks and trash strewn all around.

Deeber took the fish inside, so my cat followed him in.

Deeber hung the huge fish on one of the large hooks that hung on a rail from the ceiling, then opened some jars with salt and other herbs.

My cat watched him, with some disdain, rub these things in to the fish.

Then Deeber, satisfied with his work, picked up a can, left to join his friends, whooping loudly, and leaving the fish to hang until that evening.

My cat went and looked at the fish, hanging from the large hook in the centre of the room, high above the floor.

He leapt up to grab at the fish but could not reach.

He leapt up onto one of the counters, avoiding piles of heavy, rusted tools and empty packets of crisps. He tried to reach the fish, but fell to the floor, scattering many of the empty bottles of wine and spirits that lay around.

My cat froze at the sudden noise, checking all around him.

“Hey!” came a voice from outside. It was Maisie, the dark, haired lady. “Is anybody in there?”

My cat, leapt up and hid in a cupboard. He did not want to be found. He kept very low and very still in the shadows.

The front door creaked open and a spatula was pushed through, hesitantly followed by Maisie’s head, looking about.

“I’m armed.” she said, wielding the spatula. “I’m serious!”

She was making loud aggressive sounds, but from her smell my cat could tell she was not used to this sort of anger, and was more than a little scared right now. She seemed like a nice one.

My cat kept low so as not to startle this clearly rattled woman.

My cat watched as Maisie walked all around the massive store-house. “If you’re messing with me, I swear!” she said.

She found the fish, and the scattered bottles of wine and tutted.

Then she leant down and picked up the bottles.

“I keeping saying to take them to the recycling…” she sighed, and arranged them neatly to one side, near the door.

She took one last look around, then grabbed some snacks and left, closing the door quietly.

My cat, for his part, waited patiently, staring at the fish.

The sun slowly set, the humans lit a bonfire down the hill, next to the lake, and singing and shouting could be heard all around.

My cat decided now was a good time to try a different approach with the fish.

He stood up... but then the doors to the shed smashed open and a clearly intoxicated Deeber another friend came in, picked up the fish from the hook, and started carrying it out.

My cat hunkered down, but the wood of the cupbaord creaked, and Deeber looked back in to the darkness of the large shed.

“Did you hear that, Gus?”

“No, I didn’t hear anything,” said Gus. “Come on.”

“Wait no, maybe she was right?”

“Crazy Maisie? Come on, let’s cook!”

“Hey, don’t call her that.”

“Uh-huh,” said his friend. “OK.”

“You go on, start it without me. I’m just going to check.”

“Fine, bro.”

“Oh, get out of here.” Deeber replied, brightly, but he was twitching and shaking. He was a lot more nervous than he was acting. A cigarette trembled as he held it.

“Well come back with some wine, will ya?”

“Ha! Sure thing!”

Deeber checked all around the huge, empty store-house. He checked in the other rooms, checked around the shelves, all the while smoking nervously from his cigarette.

My cat watched him search the space all the while the smell of the fish fading as it was taken down the hill.

The man was twitchy, constantly checking behind him. My cat wanted to follow the fish, but was worried about how this Deeber could react. My cat was worried this man’s state could lead to dangerous, uncontrolled reactions. My cat did not move.

Deeber checked all around the storage area, walking right past the cupboard my cat was hiding in. But then he paused, took another drag of his cigarette, then yanked the cupboard door right open. He saw my cat and screamed.

My cat leapt straight past him to get away.

The man panicked, flailed about, trying to escape. He made grunting noises. He lost his footing, tripped backwards and impaled himself on the hook he had hung the fish from, and the momentum of his fall pushed the hook along its rail towards the far wall.

He banged against the wall, his feet not touching the floor, and his arms trying to gain any leverage.

My cat watched him, from a safe distance. What could a cat do?

And then Deeber’s body slumped, his limbs started twitching, and blood slowly started dripping from his body.

And, as my cat observed, it dripped directly in to the bottles that Maisie had organised against that wall. The blood filled the bottles until they looked, for all the world, like bottles of dark red wine.

My cat hopped down to look at Deeber, but Deeber was not moving. My cat was able to hop onto the body and climb all the way up it. Deeber did not react at all to his claws.

“Hey come on Deeber, the fish is almost ready - you got the wine yet?”

The front door slammed open once again just to their left.

A couple of his friends stood by the door, stinking of bonfire, alcohol and hormonal sweat, shouting in.

Deeber, literally just to their side, did not answer

My cat crouched down around Deeber’s shoulders.

The two friends looked down and saw the bottles.

“Oh hey! he left them by the door! Cool!”

They took the bottles, then walked away. They never even looked up.

“Hey Deeber!” they said, calling back. “Once you’re done jerking off, come down to the lake!”

When they were safely gone, my cat sniffed Deeber again to see how he was.

His body made some deep gurgling sounds, some more blood dripped from him, and he slumped a little further down on the hook.

His foot knocked one of the empty bottles beneath him, and it rolled away, out of the door and down the hill towards the bonfire.

My cat stuck his head around the door, and watched it roll, checking for the reaction of the partying people.

It rolled faster and faster, heading right for the group. The huge fish was cooking beautifully on a spit over the fire pit. The flames cast huge flickering shapes out in to the deep darkness all around them.

The bottle got closer and closer.

And… It bonked against one of the logs they were sat around and absolutely no-one noticed at all as they were all being very, very loud.

They drank wine straight from bottles, danced around the fire, and shouted jokes at each other.

Up in the shed, my cat went back to the Deeber situation

Down at the fire, one was talking:

“So I heard, right, a man was murdered in these woods, he was thrown into the lake with rocks in his pockets to weigh him down.”

“This isn’t funny, Brendan.” said Maisie.

But Brendan continued: “I heard they killed him because he was a peeping tom, so a whole mob ganged up to ‘kill the perv’.”

“Guys, come on, don’t be mean,” said Sophie, trying to take Maisie’s side.

“And some say, he comes back, and you can hear him sneaking around.”

“Oh god, whatever” said Sophie, giving up, and drinking more.

“And the last thing you hear before he gets you is the sound of the rocks in his pockets.”

“Stop iit!”

“And they killed him fifty years ago… TONIGHT!”

“Dammit, I heard something. I did!”

“Sure Maisie!”

“You’re all being horrible.”

“He’s watching you Maisie!”

“Shut up!”

“OK, OK, enough,” said one of the guys who had just returned from the shed with the bottles. “We brought the wine!”

“Thank you, Topher.” said Maisie, but refrained from the bottles. “I’m good for just now.”

“And i’m thirsty!” said Gus, took a bottle from Topher and drank a huge swig.

“It’s...really thick,” he said.

“I think they make it locally.”

And they all started drinking from the new bottles.

Back in the shed, my cat froze, as Deeber shifted and the hook holding him groaned. The mechanism was not holding his weight.

My cat jumped off, the mechanism gave way, Deeber fell down, pitched forwards, through the door, and, as my cat watched from safely inside, Deeber began rolling down the hill too.

His body dislodged rocks as it went, which tumbled down with him.

“Can you hear, like, rocks moving?”

“You mean like...rocks in pockets?” said Gus, waving his arms around.

“I’m serious!”

She pointed her flashlight at Gus, accusingly, but then stopped short.

“G-Gus,” said Maisie, “I...I don’t think that’s wine.”

And everyone looked at Gus, and at the thick, opaque red liquid all over his mouth. He was smiling gormlessly through it.

“What?”

“That’s BLOOD!”

And everyone saw it.

“Oh my god!” they all screamed, and threw their own bottles away. They spit the blood out of their mouths.

And then Deeber’s body barrelled in to the camp, rolled into the fire pit and caught fire

Up in the shed, my cat watched the people down below run about.

Down below, there was panic.

“He’s coming for us!” They yelled.

“Get out of here!”

“What about Deeber?”

“No! Get out of here!!!”

Brendan tried to pull Deeber out, another two lit off towards the far road, and the group’s car, but bumped in to Brendan who toppled head first into the fire, getting tangled in Deeber and the fish.

Maisie, Gus and Topher ran away from the carnage, up the hill, towards the house, screaming “He’s here! He’s here!”

Brendan, finally untangled himself from the spit and from Deeber, and ran, on fire, towards the water.

My cat kept an eye on him, as he was covered in lumps of the fish.

My cat left the shed and followed him as he stumbled along towards the shore. Though he became obscured by the treeline, he was still visible due to the flames.

He tumbled, once, then twice, and, just as he reached the shoreline he lost all strength and collapsed like sacks into the water. My cat was watching him from the long grass as he slowly floated out and then sunk.

Behind him, Maisy Gus and Topher reached the store-house and locked themselves in.

My cat trotted down the hill to see if there was anything left of the fish, now that the bonfire had been deserted.

Inside the store-house, they split up in the darkness and searched the place, just to make sure it was safe, they picked up the big rusted tools to use as weapons.

The fish… was destroyed, sadly, mulched up into the wood and burnt to a crisp, there was nothing for my cat there.

Inside the store-house, things were tense.

“It’s OK,” said Gus. “Everything is going to be OK. Wait what’s this?”

“Gus? Gus? where are you?”

There was a massive smash from the darkness and Maisie let out a scream.

“It’s alright! It’s alright,” said Gus, emerging from the darkness behind the shelves with a sheepish grin on his face. “I just tripped.”

“Well don’t. Come on!”

My cat, from the bonfire, looked out towards the far road, where a couple of of the humans had run off to find their car, as shouts of panic and the screech of wheels could be heard, but he had no idea of what was happening.

This night was not going too well for him at a;;. He was starving.

But right then, the smell of the fish, cooked but still very edible filled my cat’s nose again.

Brendan emerged from the water, burnt up and moaning dreadfully, shambling up the hill.

“Heeelp me. Heeelp me,” he moaned hoarsely through a burnt throat.

My cat followed him up the hill.

Inside the store-house, they explored in the darkness, scared, holding their weapons out in front of them, and starting at any strange noise they heard.

Brendan reached the door, and banged on it.

“Heeeeelp meeeee” Brendan moaned.

Topher got brave, wielded his machete, and walked towards the door. What he did not know was that Gus was approaching the door from the other side, blade up and terrified.

And, just as they approached to the door, the car, covered in blood, with a door missing and occupied by only one person, smashed into a tree hear the house and exploded.

The boom shocked everyone and the flash lit up the store-room for a shining moment.

And in that moment, Topher saw Gus and Gus saw Topher and they both slammed their blades in to the other’s chests.

“Noooo!” screamed Maisie as she ran towards the door carrying her axe.

She got there in time to see Topher and Gus tumbling forwards into the door, collapsing against it, and smashing it down to reveal Brendan, unrecognisable, burnt red-black, dripping wet and horrifying. He raised his arms and strode towards Maisie, moaning loudly.

She bared her, teeth, screamed one last time, and hurled her axe at him.

The blade of the axe hit him square in the face and lodged there.

He went down, moaning no more.

My cat watched all this from the long grass.

Maisie, sobbing from stress, went to check her friends, but they were dead and bleeding out.

She, stumbling and weeping, she went up to the body of Brendan, yanked the axe out of his head, and slammed it back into his face three more times.

Burnt up, water-logged, and with his face destroyed, there was no way Maisie could have recognised her friend.

Then she dropped the axe, walked blankly over to the house and sat on the stoop staring out at the water beneath the moon.

She said, quietly to herself: “Rocks in his pockets.”

My cat gingerly sniffed Gus and Topher, then went over to Brendan and, ignoring his missing head, ate up all the fish that was spread all over his body.

It was really good fish.

And, having finally eaten, everything was good with my cat, and he looked for a place to sleep.

He padded over to Maisie, who still sat, dazed, over on the stoop.

He gently rubbed against her arm, but it made her startle. My cat realised she was still very tense, and would have to do more to calm her down enough. He purred and rubbed himself against her.

She sniffed, and then laughed - the shock broken.

“Come on, kitty, up you get.”

And my cat sat on her lap, and curled up.

Maisie started stroking him, the tension leaving her system.

“I did it,” she said. “I did it.”

She scritched behind his years, as he slowed his breath and purred deeply.

“No more rocks in his pockets. Not anymore,” she said, and sighed, staring contentedly up at the moon.

And my cat, in her lap, fell asleep.

THIS HAS BEEN EPISODE 1 OF SEASON 5 OF THE LOST CAT PODCAST, CALLED ‘ROCKS IN HIS POCKETS’, WRITTEN AND PERFORMED BY A P CLARKE

THANK YOU FOR LISTENING

Links

https://apclarke.bandcamp.com/album/the-lost-cat-podcast

thelostcat.libsyn.com

twitter.com/LostCatPod

thelostcatpodcast.tumblr.com

facebook.com/lostcatpodcast

soundcloud.com/a-p-clarke/sets/the-lost-cat-podcast

[m-602]

The Demon Gang

((I finally found some motivation to write!))

((For context, three of the characters over in the Chaos Gang have super-demon forms that could lead to mass destruction if unleashed... I got the idea for a Demon Alternate Timeline where everyone, including those three, turn into demons and... Well, here we are!))

((Warning! There’s some swearing in here. Slight body horror and violence, too. Nothing too major, surprisingly...))

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A quiet day. That’s the most one could ask when literally every other day involves them fighting for their lives, escaping some death trap, or dealing with some sort of emotional turmoil. Just a single day where nothing goes wrong would be a godsend to these people…

And for the most part, that’s exactly what the Gang was having… The morning was “normal” enough. Mikearu had another nightmare - with his arm subsequently combusting and staying that way - and Panda tried destroying the couch for some reason, but other than those exceptions, everything was going smoothly. Those who required food had their fill and everyone was enjoying the momentary peace and quiet…

…

As Astel always says, “never expect a normal day with us.” Or something amongst those lines…

Shadow visiting the house wasn’t exactly strange. It was how they did it that was unusual…

It was… entirely normal… They walked out from the… well, shadows with no unique flair. Nothing stupid. Nothing over-the-top. They just… entered. And it immediately caught Kitty’s attention.

Kitty: “Shadow? What’s up with you?”

Shadow: “Oh nothing much. Managing the demons, paid a visit to Beldam, all Hell’s breaking loose outside-”

K: “Wait. Hold up. What was that last part?”

Sh: “...All Hell’s breaking loose outside…”

Panda: “...So? That’s not exactly our problem.”

Sh: “No. I mean that in the most literal sense.”

Everyone else: “What?!”

The voidling directed their attention outside… Upon closer inspection, Shadow’s statement was not entirely inaccurate. Judging by the hellish creatures and the portals they’re walking through, rampant flames, red tinted sky, and overall chaos, Hell was, indeed, breaking loose into their world.

Astel and Eclipse: “...Well fuck…”

You know a situation’s bad when both the light and shadow are saying that…

Mikearu: “...How in the world did this happen?!”

Sh: “Not important.~ Right now, I’m in the middle of containing it… Help out if you want. Just don’t get in my way or get yourselves killed…

The voidling disappeared into the shadows once more, leaving the gang with that shocking bit of news… Hell, quite literally, was breaking loose outside and the world is being ravaged by it…

…

Mikearu and Astel were already out the door.

Reaper: “Wha-? No way in hell are those two going alone!”

Reaper was next up, dashing out the door and rushing over to the action…

P: “Ugh… Fucking morons.”

The feral child grabbed her favorite rifle and went to join her “friends”... For some reason, Silver had popped in from the ceiling… 

Silver: “Oooh! What’s happening outside? Is it a new game? I wanna play!”

And the clueless child was already running out the door…

K: “...Fuck it.”

The shapeshifter begrudgingly joined her friends outside…

...Well… Things definitely look worse than they did from the brief glance they got from the house… They got halfway to the city before they saw where all these demons were coming from - large holes in the ground, completely with sets of sharp, jagged teeth…

Astel: “...Hellmouths…”

M: “Portals to Hell, correct? We just gotta close them up, right?”

A strange feeling was overcoming the Gang… No one really seemed to pay it much mind though.

The Gang finally reach the meat of the action… Grim, Venatrix, and Shadow were already there, trying to keep demons away from the path to the city…

Grim: “Where the fuck have you been?! We could use some help here!”

Venatrix: “I can go check on the city proper. Mind actually dealing with these things?!

P: “Why not just let the city burn?”

V: “Not now, brat!”

A spike of ice killing a demon behind her immediately brings them out of the mini-argument. Astel has shifted into The Twilight Queen to better combat the literal hell-raisers.

A + E: “Shut up. We have more pressing concerns.”

V: “...R-Right. I’ll be off!”

Firing a few ethereal shots into the demonic horde, the huntress runs off before warping away, likely to help protect any innocent people. Panda shoots a flying demon to the ground.

P: “She should really just let them die…”

M: “Not now, Panda…”

Mikearu shifts into his “Assassin” form, utilizing his smaller stature and increased speed to weave around some of the beasts. He drives his knife through a demon’s head before leaping off of it, sending a massive lightning bolt at its partner. Shadow watches from a distance… 

Sh: “Well you certainly know how to hold your own… I don’t care what you do - just make sure to close up those holes…”

Void tendrils grab onto about three beasts at once, bashing them together until they stop moving before they retreat into the ground…

R: “And how do we do that? Just destroy them or something?”

Sh: “Basically.”

G: “Works for me.~”

Using her strings, she wraps up an incoming demon, sucking some strength from it as it was sliced up by her ringblade… Reaper, deciding not to just sit around, melted into the shadows, re-manifesting right behind an unfortunate demon. With a single slice of her scythe, the demon was ripped in two… Panda managed to shoot down a demon that was sneaking up on her while she was distracted.

P: “Pay attention!”

Now… You might think that Silver and Kitty aren’t participating…

...Well, for Kitty, yes that’s the case. She decided to shift into a bird amidst all the chaos and get a bird’s-eye view of the carnage. It never hurts to have a front row seat.~

Silver, meanwhile, was trying to have a conversation with a particularly violent demon.

S: “So whatcha here for?”

It tries to attack, only for Silver to literally bounce away from the hit.

S: “Hey! Rude!”

Shadow cuts the demon down, utterly confused as to how Silver’s even alive right now… And then they remember that it’s Silver. She gets away with more things than she really should.

...Other than that, the Gang continues trying to fend off the hellish beasts… After probably three minutes of fighting, they finally get close to a hellmouth…

A: “Come on!”

She drives her sword into the back of the mouth… It causes it to shudder, eventually closing and receding into the ground…

Sh: “Yep! Just keep doing that!”

Another mouth is blown to bits by Mikearu. Another is ripped apart by Grim. Another is burnt away by Reaper… Silver just closes one and it goes away, much to everyone's confusion…

…?!

After closing a few of the hellish gates, the ground started to rumble with thundering footsteps. An ominous feeling of dread washed over the “heroic” combatants as the footsteps seemed to come closer and closer… They look in the direction of the sound, only to find a massive hellmouth, slightly larger than the house they all live in, down the path.

A + E: “What… the fuck…?”

...The footsteps finally reached them, revealing the towering figure they belonged to… It was a massive, powerful demon donning coal black armor and a spiked scepter in its right claw. It’s head looked like a deer’s skull, completely engulfed in a raging fire.

Sh: “Oh look! A high class demon!”

M and Ikearu: “That explains a few things…”

It slams its scepter into the ground, sending a wave of earth towards the Gang, which they manage to avoid despite the shock.

M: “Wha’ do we do?! Drive i’ into the hellmouth behind i’?”

Sh: “That’s the plan!”

Panda is already trying to shoot it in the head, only for the bullets to bounce off the skull… despite it being a skull…

P: “Grr… Just die!”

It went to charge after her, only for a unsurprisingly angry Reaper to tackle it, forcing it backwards.

R: “Hands off my kitten.”

P: “...Right…”

The demon stumbles back, eventually regaining its footing. It holds the scepter high, magic gathering around the spiked tip. As that happens, a magic aura gathers around Reaper, slowly raising her in the air before a blue fireball slams into the demon’s chest, forcing it to drop Reaper to the ground…

M + I: “Hands off my child.”

R: “...”

After shaking off her blush, she stands up to confront the demon again. It sends spell after spell, projectile after projectile, trying to keep the Gang at bay. Icicles pelt it, lightning pesters it, bullets annoy it, and strings restrain it as a void tendril starts knocking it towards the hellmouth it came from.

G: “All yours!”

With a nod, the voidling, using a rather large tendril, knocks the demon in the hellmouth as another tendril goes to impale the hellish gate. Before it could, though, an aura of magic overtakes the scepter as the demon swings it forth. A wave of magic overtakes the gang as light blinds their sight, the hellmouth shriveling up before it sinks into the earth…

…

Sh: “...Shit...”

…

After what felt like forever, Mikearu manages to regain his sense of sight, shaking his head at the headache he has… What the hell was that? And why did his whole body ache?

…

He brings a fiery left hand to his hea- Wait?

FIERY?!

M: [“W-What the hell?!”]

Even his voice didn’t sound the same. It sounded more like he was projecting it instead of actually speaking it… What the…?

What the hell did that thing do?!

A: “Holy shit… M?!”

He snapped his head to Astel, immediately noticing her change in appearance… It… looked kinda like her nightmare form… But her armor had a different look to it. A shimmery, midnight blue with black accents. Now that he had a good look at her, he noticed the two pairs of wings on her back… Two angel wings - one pure white, one burgundy black - and two demon-like bat wings - one coal black, one black and red… Her eyes were a fiery orange, with red swirls in the left and gold swirls in the right… He recognized this form instantly… The Midnight Queen…

M: [“Astel?! What happened to you?!”]

A: “That’s what I was about to ask you!”

M: [“I was hoping you’d know! I don’t have a clue, either!”]

He picked himself off the ground, noticing that he was actually floating in midair… Wait a minute… It can’t be… 

A ghost-like tail… A form similar to his child state (only bigger)… Fiendish claws…

…?! Demon horns and fox ears…

...The True Fiend…

M: [“Wh-What the-? I’m a Fiend! The True Fiend! B-But… How am I…?”]

Sh: “Blame that high class demon…”

Both Astel and M look to the voidling…

A: “What exactly… did that thing do to us?”

Sh: “Hm… Well, from what I can tell, it turned you into demons with a forbidden spell… But it’s not like I’m a Demon Lord who’s some sort of expert on this kind of stuff…”

M: [“...Can you tone down the sarcasm for five minutes?”]

The voidling just shrugs, a smug smile on their face.

K: “Mer… What happened? Something just knocked me out of the sky…”

A: “Uh… Kitty…”

K: “...What happened to you guys? And why are you looking at me like I have three heads?”

M: [“Well, you don’t… But…”]

The demon wings coming out of her back were easy enough to see… Kitty opened her eyes…

...Her crimson red, hollow eyes…

K: “Well? What is it?”

A: “I think it’s better if you saw for yourself…”

Gathering magic, she creates a crystalline wall in front of Kitty. It acts as a mirror, allowing Kitty to see the changes she went through…

K: “...”

K: “Well fuck…”

M: [“It got all of us? Wait… Where’s the others?”]

R: “N-No… This… can’t be happening…”

The voice belonged to… a formless, massless shadow where Reaper used to be… It was heavily disfigured in more ways than you could imagine - multiple thin arms, multiple wings, eyes fucking everywhere… It looked… familiar…

...The Eldritch…

Sh: “Oh… A voidling rip off… Cool…”

R: “That’s… not funny, Shadow…”

M: [“...R-Reaper?”]

The massless shadow seems to look up at the Fiend…

R: “M… That’s you, right? ...H-How are we…?”

M: [“...That demon. That’s the only explanation our local Demon Lord has decided to give us…”]

He shoots a glare Shadow’s way as he says that. They just smirk.

G: “Well that explains something…”

That voice belonged to… a mass somehow more unstable than Reaper… It barely had a form, and whereas Reaper had a slight blue haze around her, this one seemed to glitch spastically and randomly… 

G: “Pretty sure me and Reaper would barely be sane if this was natural…”

R: “With some… exceptions… I feel fine…”

P: “Ngh… Speak for yourself… My head is fucking killing me…”

Panda was stumbling towards them, looking relatively unchanged… Except for the arrow tail, demon horns, and wings…

P: “And before you say anything… I’m well aware of what’s happened to me… It’s so easy, even a moron like me can figure it out…”

Sh: “Well… You’re still a moron…”

And thus, Panda flipped them the bird… They couldn’t care less…

A: “Well… That’s almost everyone, but… Where’s-?”

S: “Woah! You guys look awesome!”

...The chaotic little toon girl was not even scratched by whatever did this to them… Typical Silver…

M: [“...How did you…?”]

S: “...How did I what?”

M: [“...Nevermind…”]

S: “Okay… Oh! Right! I managed to get one of those mouth things and put it in my backpack! It’s really cool!”

Sh: “Wait. Run that by me again?”

A: “...You pocketed a fucking HELLMOUTH?!”

S: “Yeah! I even gave it a little radio dial…”

She then started rummaging through her bag…

S: “I wonder what would happen if I-”

And then ‘poof’! She was gone…

R: “Silver?!”

K: “Welp. There she goes.”

P: “...She’ll be back.”

Surprisingly (or unsurprisingly at this stage), no one denies this…

…?!

Ah. Right. They can’t have a moment of calm without two ethereal bullets nearly hitting M, Astel, and Reaper.

A + E: ~ “What the fuck?!” ~

R: “Who the fuck?!”

M + I: [“Who else?!”]

They turn to find Venatrix… Aiming her gun at them… Utterly shaking in fear…

...Ah. Right. They’re kinda super-demons now…

V: “Wh-What the fuck… What the hell happened?! Answer me b-before I b-blow your heads off!”

She looks too scared to even get off a decent shot… Empty threats it seems…

Gotta love confused panic… 

Sh: “Calm down, moron… They’re still your friends… They’re just more demonic now.”

The Midnight Queen has flipped Venatrix the bird for nearly shooting her head off… Yep… Exactly what a regal lady would do… 

V: “W-Well… That just leads to a whole ‘nother issue…”

M + I: [“And that is?”]

V: “The fact that a group of demon hunters from all over everywhere is on their way over here.”

Everyone Else: “Wait, what?”

M, using his status as a fire Fiend, floats up a little to get a better view… 

...True to Venatrix’s word, a literal army was headed their way, with an assortment of weaponry that M barely even recognizes…

And one of those weapons nearly hit M dead on.

M: [“Holy shit!”]

A: “God damnit!”

P: “Damned ants…”

Being Panda, she decided to pick her rifle back up and start returning fire… With flaming bullets…

P: “Oooh.~ I like this.~”

Everyone else just facepalms…

G: “Can’t we just kill them?~”

Sh: “I like that plan!”

M: [“No! Because those weapons are made to fight demons…”]

K: “...I’m running if you are!”

The shapeshifter turned devil creature immediately bolted… Venatrix immediately followed suit.

P: “Wha-? Cowards!”

A wall of extremely hot electric flame separates them from the horde of probably malicious hunters.

P: “Holy-”

A: “Just go.”

P: “Wha-”

Aaand the Midnight Queen has picked up the homicidal imp with a rifle. Lovely.

Meanwhile, both Eldritch are warping the environment to try and help slow down the hunters as they retreat with their allies… After probably three whole minutes of doing this, they manage to make it to the house…

K: “...Well this sucks.”

P: “Grr… Let me down.”

The Queen does so… with a smirk.~

P: “Hng… Don’t do that again…”

Sh: “Wow… You guys have no idea how to demon, do you?”

The four super-demons proceed to glare at them menacingly…

Sh: “...I don’t know how to take that response.”

M: [“This body is the only thing I’m uncomfortable with… And the fact that I’m a Fiend…”]

Everyone, including M, is just going to keep silent about how he was part Fiend anyway…

A: “It’s not like I haven’t been a demon before… Just not a super demon…”

R: “And me and Grim were part Eldritch before, so…”

V: “Speaking of which… Can’t you guys… um…”

G: “...Tch… Rude…”

R: “...Well… It wouldn’t hurt…”

G: “...Whatever…”

Both Eldritch seem to shift and change, the shadows that make up their bodies moving to their will… They shrink a little, to the size they were at before. Some of the arms fade away, some of the wings return to the body, and some of the eyes seem to blink away… When the form change was finished, they both looked like they normally did… with some key differences. A shadowy appearance, with respective outlines (blue for Reaper, green for Grim) was immediately apparent… Upon closer inspection, both of them seem to have four eyes, arms, and wings, along with henna tattoos - Reaper’s on her main right hand, Grim’s on her back - to indicate their status as Eldritch…

G: “There. Better?”

Venatrix just nods…

K: “So… We’re demons now? What, do we have to live in Hell now?”

Sh: “Hm… With the state Hell is in right now, I can afford to leave you guys be. Especially since you’re either not supposed to be demons or were already part demon to begin with. Right now, just don’t get killed or something.”

S: “Besides! Hell ain’t got nothing on the places I just visited!”

Sh: “?!”

The origin of the voice, a spectral Silver floating in the middle of the living room, made itself known.

M: [“Silver?! What happened to you?!”]

S: “I went to an afterlife! You can’t really be alive for those places. So I’m a ghost now!”

She does a few flips in midair… rather flimsily…

S: “Isn’t it cool?”

A: “Erm… Kinda? You’re sort of dead now, though…”

Silver just crosses her arms, pouting.

S: “Does that matter? I’m talking to you, aren’t I?”

R: “...I mean… Yeah…”

S: “Well… It was nice visiting, but there are other afterlives I want to visit!”

P: “...Can I go with you?”

She was already fading away by the time Panda asked… Aaaand ‘poof’. No more Silver.

P: “Fuck.”

…

M: [“...So this is our life now, huh?”]

A: “Hoo boy… These wings are going to be a real pain to sleep in.”

G: “You can’t just make them go away?”

A: “No. I can’t.”

K: “Wait. I can’t make mine go away, either. God damnit.”

P: “Sucks to be you, Sonic.exe.”

Astel just snickers… M shakes his head…

Sh: “...I’ve got my work cut out for me…”

Yes you do, Shadow. Yes you do.

[ecccentrick]

Pigments (Plance)

My entry for the @langstronevent2k18! My gift is for @nooowestayandgetcaught, who wanted Plance! I really hope you enjoy!

AO3

Lance cuts her hair before the battle, the soft snipping sounds echoing around the otherwise silent room. Pidge bites her lip, fingers itching to be typing, to be doing something to distract her.

“About what you said-”

“Let’s forget about that!” Lance says, interrupting, laugh cracking mid-swell. He once again focuses on his duty, finally cutting the dead ends he’s been moaning and groaning about in quick, straight lines. Pidge wants to say she’s surprised by how steady his hand is, but he is the team sharpshooter.

“It’s not that I don’t fee-”

“All done! You’re looking great, I mean, not hot or anything but- uhm, better than before. At least not like a hobo, haha!”

Pidge curls her hands into fists, burrowing them in between her thighs for warmth. “Lance. . .”

“Nope, no! We’re totally not gonna talk about my petty feelings right now, not before we kick some Galran asses! And now that you can actually see, you should be right as rain.”

Pidge never does get to speak uninterrupted. She’ll regret it for the rest of her life.

--

Lance pants, gun heavy in his shaking arms. Sweat settles on his eyelids and temples, and his breath fogs the helmet, making every exhale look like frost. He runs as fast as he can, Pidge quick on his heels. They need this information, he reminds himself when his legs threaten to give out and he sees the head count they’re facing. They need this information, no matter what.

Pidge is the one extracting it, Allura is the distraction, Keith and Hunk keep the entire thing in one piece, the halls fracturing as it self destructs, and Lance has Pidge’s back during the vulnerable seconds she has to have her back open.

As the floor parts a few hundred feet behind them, Lance focuses not on the impending collapse and studies Pidge. She’s in her element, brows drawn low and mouth firm; if anyone saw the expression out of context, they’d surely think she must be royally pissed. It amazes him that someone can be so drawn into their work that they forget everything around them, which is why Lance is tagging along in the first place. She’s leaving herself open for attack, and he has to get between her and injury.

When Allura gave him this assignment, he thought for sure that everyone knew. That everyone knew that he finally figured out his obscure affection for the Green paladin to only be immediately shot down. That, no matter how much Pidge

feel for him, he’d get in the way of fire for her. But everyone acted oblivious, even Pidge herself, so he tried to calm the paranoia that nestles into his brain.

Here, in this moment, it’s easy to forget. The constant screech of metal on metal falling apart, gunfire, explosions and grunts of pain making it hard to concentrate on anything but surviving; it is the symphony of war, and the increasing rubble and chaos only makes his head ache and heart pound.

That might be why he’s too distracted to hear it, the lazer brushing against his cheek, narrowly missing Pidge. She jumps, and twists to glare at him. “What part of watch my back do you not get?!”

“Sorry, sorry!”

He shakes himself of any thought, only the tempo of battle, the fluid way in which his muscles bunch and flex and move with only memory to guide him. The next onslaught he’s on guard, actually doing his job this time.

The new wave overwhelms him, the bots now mixed in with real live Galran’s. One such Galran looks like a General from the insignia on his armor, and man, he’s a gnarly one. Instead of charging, the General lifts a fist, and the bots and the few organic soldiers stop and flee, but one. The Galran smirks, and turns on his heel, escaping down the hall.

“Uh. . .Pidge, you gonna be done soon?”

Sweat is visible on her forehead, dyed purple from the offensively bright light of the monitor, her bangs sticking to her temples. “Not. Now, Lance,” she replies through clenched teeth.

He focuses on the bot, shooting it almost point blank, the bullets bouncing right off of it. His breathing picks up then, because if his gun is useless, then *

pretty much useless right now, right?! Shifting his bayard into a broadsword, he lunges, and once again, it’s easily deflected, the sharp edges of the sword scraping off of it, sparks literally flying.

Pidge, still busy, doesn’t notice a thing, her mind completely focussed on her goal. Lance decides that he should be as well, and gets into a fighting stance, legs planted firmly on the ground. It’s only when the bot’s eyes start blinking an eerie red that he knows. He’s seen this before.

With little time, he grabs Pidge from behind, causing her to try to jerk away. He tightens his grip, body shielding her’s; the bomb goes off with a deafening *

rattling his very bones, the force flinging him, and therefore Pidge, sideways, Lance landing on Pidge’s small frame. Once the dust settles and the floor quits it’s scary shaking, Lance sighs with relief.

Pidge has the gall to look irritated, or maybe that’s just the shock. The expression goes lax when her gaze focuses on his chest.

“Lance. . .*

He giggles, his chest feeling engulfed in heat, probably from the close proximity to Pidge. She attempts to shake him, but he has enough strength in him to keep her pinned underneath him where she’s safe.

“Lance, where are you? Talk to me.”

His vision blurs, and he blinks. “I’m right here in your arms.”

Pidge curses through clenched teeth, eyes looking suspiciously wet. Huh, must be the dust swirling around, or even the sticky red wetness that drops on her cheek. Wait.

“Don’t look,” Pidge begs. “Don’t look, and don’t move, okay?”

He looks, and he immediately regrets it. He appears to be impaled, a hunk of metal peeking out right from center. He draws in a shaky breath and whimpers, the air rattling in his lungs wetly. It gets harder and harder to breath. His arms refuse to hold him up any longer, so he rests on Pidge, who is usually too boney to be a comfortable cuddle buddy. Not now -- now she feels like the most comfortable place, his bloody face tucking into the junction of her neck, smearing red traces of him behind.

Lance almost drowned once, when he was only five and small for his age. He’d almost been caught in a riptide, pulled under. He’d tried so hard to breathe, gulping down burning water into dry lungs. It feels sort of like that now, only so so so much worse, his soggy lungs feeling like useless sponges.

He catches the tail end of the pain, his sight fading quickly. Shuddering, he asks, “D-did you ge-get it?”

“Yes, idiot, I got it.”

His hearing goes last, and he swears he hears Pidge sobbing into the comms. It might just be hopeful thinking.

--

Despite popular belief, Pidge isn’t cold. She isn’t crass, nor uncaring. She just tucks the excess feelings into the corners of her heart until she can deal with them in the safe confines of her room, the gentle castle light illuminating tears tracks wetting her cheeks. But, now they don’t even have the castle, so she has nowhere to hide but inside her lion. It only makes it worse, Green’s feelings echoing hollowly in her mind, making the pain twofold. She can’t stay there, hunched over her chair.

They no longer have the Castleship, meaning they no longer have healing pods. The only way Pidge knows Lance is still clinging to life is the thread of connection that is shared between Green and Red. She exits, severing the mirrored emotions, and slumps beside a dying fire. The planet they landed on in a rush is empty and barren, lacking the right amount of oxygen, but Pidge lets her lungs struggle, knowing Lance is far worse off.

She glances at the cordoned off makeshift tent, shielding Lance, Coran and Allura from view. Discarded rags spill out of the opening, stained red. They don’t have a healing pod, and Allura can only seem to revive the already dead, and they can’t risk that, so they have to do everything the old-fashioned way. The dangerous way.

Funny how space has warped Pidge’s sense of death, the healing pods cushioning their fall so many times that it’s all too easy to take the plunge. Now the rug has been pulled out from under them at Lance’s expense.

Keith stokes the fire. The shadows make his face look hollow and sunken in, but maybe that’s just the grief; he can play all he wants, but Pidge notices the stubborn tears lining his eyelids, and as someone known for burying everything behind irritation herself, she knows he fears the worst. They all do. Hunk is distracting himself by showing Romelle how their Lions work, the latter looking confused and distant. And Pidge and Keith try to sear their corneas by the way they stare at the flames.

There is no jovial jokes, no lighthearted jabs; no one is there to make Keith confused, no one to annoy Pidge enough that she actually does her work on time for once. Their dynamic is shattered.

Allura may be the heart of Voltron, but Lance is the soul. A heart and mind is nothing without the warmth of a soul.

--

When Lance confessed to Pidge, she thought it was a joke. Lance’s face was beet red, his words rushing and falling over each other, his fingers fiddling with the hem of his shirt. Someone must have put him up to this, she had thought. Maybe Hunk, that meddling snitch.

When Pidge didn’t say anything back it’s like he blanked out, his face falling slowly and then all at once. He went even redder and fled, leaving Pidge and her traitor heart to wallow it what could be. She knew she wasn’t the kind of girl he went for, pretty and nice smelling and giggly. Pidge snorted when she laughed, big bellowing hiccups, and she sure as hell wasn’t a looker. She forgot to shower more often than not! She totally smelled! Hunk just knew her feelings and meddled, that meddling meddler!

She hadn’t expected him to act so crushed, nor for him to begin avoiding her. She knew the looks they got from Allura and also knew the moment it interfered with Voltron, she’d step in. She hadn’t known the lengths in which he would one day go to protect her. If she had, she would’ve at least allowed herself a kiss.

Now, she tries desperately to put it out of her mind. She emotionally cuts it out, slams a barrier down between her and Lance in her mind, and proceeds to act like he’s already lost to them. And if he’s already lost, gone, than she can skip the grieving process entirely and wait to break once everyone pulls themselves together. Just like she prefers to be the last one awake, she’d also rather be the last one to cry, in the shelter of her own home, nestled under the blanket of her childhood.

So, she hums forcefully as she fries some space eggs, fanning the fire to make them sizzle. She gets an odd look from Hunk, and a knowing one from Matt, but goes about her business. She’s just trying to make breakfast here! Nothing to see! She holds her breath when Coran exits the tent in the corner of her eye, not daring to look directly at him for fear of his facial expression. They’ve begun to be grimmer and grimmer, like Lance’s ghost is getting closer and closer to the surface.

Hunk takes Shiro and Allura breakfast, leaving green in the face. He’s known for his weak stomach, she tells herself, but knows she won’t be able to convince her brain unless she sees it for herself. She’s never had much of an imagination when it comes to these things. But does she really want that to be her last memory of Lance? Would it be any better or worse than the sight of metal impaling him, the same piece that could’ve hit her instead if only Lance didn’t insist on heroics?

She sneaks after the fire dies down and the planet they’ve set up shop darkens, the skies full of unfamiliar stars and two moons that look like reflections of the other. Shiro and Allura are still inside, Allura slumped backwards, head tucked to her chest like she tried valiantly to stay awake, Shiro on the ground, dead to the world.

In between them is. . .a version of Lance. The sick smell of infection -- sweet and sour at the same time -- envelops the confines of the tent, is all that you can breath in. Pidge breathes shallowly, sweat prickling at her skin. He looks so small, skin an ill yellow tinged in white. In some lapse of judgement, someone folded his arms across his torso, like they were preparing him for a funeral. His funeral.

Suddenly Pidge feels too small, despite taking up the entirety of the entrance of the tent. Her lungs feel too small in her chest, like heavy stones that refuse to let even a gasp of air through their thresholds. Heart racing, she says with the last of her breath, “You martyring idiot.”

She turns away. She runs away. She slides next to Matt, her fingers trembling too much to allow her to unzip her sleeping bag, so she just lays atop it, gasping for air, feeling like she’s going to die.

Pidge thought the false realization that Matt was dead hurt her to the core; at least it wasn’t her fault. She had others to blame. The Galra, the universe, bad luck, the Garrison. Now she and the others only have her to thank when Lance slips away to a place she can’t follow just like everyone else.

--

Lance died. At least once. He’s not exactly sure how he knows, besides being blanketed by the brightest and softed blackness, similar to sleep but peaceful, no chance of bad dreams or sleepless nights. He remembers the disappointment he feels when he is pushed out of it, the brightness of life too blinding to be beautiful any longer. Now, the never ending grayness of his eyelids is just a nuisance.

So, he knows he died, and Allura must have brought him back. But, the feeling in his lungs still burn, he can still taste blood on his tongue, and everything hurts. He is forever tense, snippets of talking and crying and retching (Hunk, for sure) the only sense that doesn't hurt. So, when he finally awakens, his eyelids lifting their lifetime ban, he first sees Allura.

Any other time, that would’ve been a plus, right? Especially with how upset she looks, her eyelids red, her eyes tired and face tense. Like she was really worried about him. But he finds himself disappointed. He feels as though someone else should be there, someone less overbearing and more annoyed.

Damn, he has to be a masochist.

“-don’t move.”

“I reckon he-”

“Lance, buddy! LanCE! LAN-”

“Moron.”

He sighs as the voices of his comrades surround him, all but one. He blinks away the tears from the onslaught of light and motion, and sees every color but green. A pigment of their color wheel missing.

His chest tightens and he feels as though he's falling.

“He’s starting to hyperventilate. We need to knock him out, Princess.”

“Coran! We will do no such thing! We don't have the right sort of equipment to do it correctly and safely.”

A sound of frustration above him. “Yes, princess, I understand but he's not lucid enough to calm down on his own--”

“--idge,” He gasps between constrictive breaths. “Pid- Pidge, is she okay?!”

He opens his eyes he doesn't even remember closing. Keith is next to him, burn completely healed. How long has he been out?!

“She's fine, Lance,” he says. “You made sure of that.”

His lungs loosen just enough for him to take a breath. “Good. . .that's good.”

He attempts to sit up, but an ache soul deep makes every muscle tense in pain. With clenched teeth, he settles back down as everyone looks about ready to pounce on him. Coran is frantically shuffling through bottles and books, muttering to himself. Everyone else is frozen.

Quickly, he notes his surroundings. He doesn't remember this tent being here, but he supposes that since he was hurt they had to think of something to fully protect him from the atmosphere and any alien bacteria. It feels humid inside, the cluster of bodies heating up the small tent.

Once he takes in the sights (or the lack thereof) he notices the stench. Sweet, but not the good kind. Rotten sweet. Lance tries to sniff subtly.

“Is that,” he croaks, coughs again, “Is that smell me?”

Hunk turns a bit green at the mention. “Uhm yeah. Don't freak out, but seems you might have a teensy little infection. That we might not have the stuff to treat. But everything else is looking great! Totally surprised too, since I figured Allura is a legit necromancer.”

Keith is rolling his eyes as he hands Lance something to drink. The alien version of a bendy straw is sorta dizzying. He takes a sip, his dry mouth rejoicing.

“Pretty sure I died there again, actually.”

“Wait, WHAT?! YOU DIED BEFORE?!”

Lance clears his throat awkwardly. “Uh, yeah. Guess me and Shiro should get a club going. ‘Was Resurrected By Princess Allura Club.’ Though I guess Shiro was more downloaded than anything. . .”

“How is everyone so chill about this?!” Hunk asks when Allura starts to busy herself, Keith takes a drink from the bendy straw himself and Coran is counting on his fingers. When no one answers he deflates, shaking his head.

Clearing his throat, he continues addressing Lance. “Anyway! We got someone looking for the plant we need, so don't uh, worry!”

“You don't sound so confident, my Hunk. Shiro will be fine.”

“About that…”

--

“FUCK,” Pidge shouts as her comms go out. She's pressed against the ground, gravity making her feel like she weighs a thousand pounds, and her comms won't work! How will she call for backup?! Her brother is gonna freak if he tries to contact her while she's away and finds her unable to communicate!

She stills her jittery hands and takes a deep breath, Shiro’s mantra running through her head. Pidge is doing this for good reason. She's doing this for someone she cares about, and that has to be enough to pull her through.

Grunting, Pidge pulls herself up, her knees screaming in protest; the atmosphere isn't enough to crush her, but it's also harsh enough to make her job that much harder. Green is unsettled in the back of her head, their bond thrumming nervously. Gritting her teeth, she pushes forward. She's so close.

The plant that she needs to save Lance is nondescript. It looks like any average fern, from what Coran told her. They don't have the Castle of Lions to give her a visual, and she really dislikes being outside, but her heart pounds and skin prickles with panic when she thinks of refusing to do it or failing. In no undefined terms, Lance will die a slow, painful death if she doesn't succeed.

It's so quiet on her own. She's used to Lance’s chatter in her ear, usually bantering with Keith or flirting with Allura. She usually scolds or makes fun of him at those times, and now she feels guilty that she didn't do more for him. She may not have the strength to say yes to his confession, but she also doesn't want him to die or go away somewhere she can't tease him.

Pidge clutches her chest, the ache resonating within. She comes to the clearing Coran described, mostly unchanged over the 10,000 years he was asleep. The atmosphere must make it hard for large lifeforms to thrive, leaving gross bugs and dirt and multicolored ferns to take the space.

Examining the plants, she counts the number of barbs that stick out, strong enough to pierce flesh. She makes a sound when she finds it, carefully plucking the fern that also might kill her because Coran was pretty shifty when describing the thorn-like extensions. She tugs, pulls, whacks, but the plant is still firmly in the ground, the stem unharmed. Pidge tries to tear her hair out, only to find that she can't raise her arm over her shoulders, let alone her hand.

She sits back, sweat leaving uncomfortable trails down her face and making her armor stick to the middle of her back. Tears line her eyelids, momentarily blurring her sight. She failed. She failed and for the life of her she can't think of what to do. No amount of programming can help her here, and Green would destroy the plant trying to extract it.

Pidge grits her teeth in anger and flicks the stem with a rhythmic wack wack wack. It won't do anything, but the sound makes her muscles relax minutely, allowing her to think. She still comes up with nothing, but at least the tears threatening to spill no longer fog her helmet and she no longer tries to pull out her hair underneath that helmet.

Suddenly, there is a tremble that shakes the earth. Alarm rumbles in the back of her mind in the form of Green, alerting her that it must be something bad. Before she can make it fully standing, the ground seems to pulse, vein-like intrusions lifting, dark brown dirt spurting into the air like brown blood. The shaking stops, and she feels a thunk on her foot.

Across the ground is the fern, uprooted.

“Huh,” is all she can say.

--

Pidge has been gone for three days, according to Hunk. Lance has to pry the information out of him, the big fluffy worrier that he is. Knowing this isn't going to do him any more harm; fever will still shake his body, a sickly stench will still permeate his stifling tent, and he will still be slowly burning from the inside. What's a little worry? No biggie.

Hunk stays by his side, creating the illusion of healing by dabbing his sweat slick forehead with a chilled cloth like a maiden in a movie. He's sure pretty enough to be one, Lance jokes, but the jest falls on deaf ears.

Even if she makes it, Lance feels himself slipping.

Facing death once gives you a taste of it, but seeing it twice? Looking into the face of your own mortality? That gives you a sixth sense of just knowing, like muscle memory drilled into your brain. It's a memory and sensation that will never truly leave him.

But, as long as Pidge gets back safely, it'll be okay. The zen he feels should be odd, but right now, he welcomes it, is grateful for the clarity it gives him. He's dying, and he accepts it. Instead of staring it in the eyes, he closes his, basking in its bleakness, knowing that he will never be afraid of it again.

As his eyes droop, and after assuring Hunk that he isn't dying (yet), just sleeping, he allows himself to think of home. Of Cuba, the brightness of the sea and the smell of garlic knots fresh out of the oven and just calling him to burn his fingers on. Of his siblings and niblings laughter dancing around him, Veronica screaming behind clenched teeth, her well worn coolness melting down due to grubby hands.

He wonders how she's doing, more than any other sibling. She's smart, and disciplined, but even she will not be happy when finding out what the Garrison must be hiding. And she will. Sooner or later, she will find what she's looking for -- him, he knows that she doesn't believe he threw away his future for anything less than saving the universe -- and he doesn't trust the Garrison enough not to silence her. And when she does figure it out, he knows she will be waiting for him to come back.

Luis and Laura can readily move on. Not a slight towards them, not at all, but he knows they will give up looking. They're strong like that, knowing when to truly give up. He won't blame them or curse them their happiness.

He tries not to think of his mother or father, and especially not his grandparents, who were sickly and fragile when he left for the Garrison.

No, he thinks of his fellow Paladins. Allura is perfect in Blue, and he truly wishes that she was still the object of affection for he knew she was never going to he a reality. Instead, he has feelings for Pidge, who while still way out of his league, is not a warrior alien Princess.

He doesn't have to try hard to think of Hunk, who is still holding his hand as he drifts in and out of consciousness. He's truly an amazing friend, staying with Lance despite his weak stomach. He almost wishes that his buddy didn't have to see Lance like this, but knows that the fingers curled around his is the anchor holding him in this realm.

Shiro and Keith, now, are like distant stars. Now that Shiro is truly back, everything will slot together when Lance finally lets go. Allura can keep her place as Princess and Blue Paladin, and Keith can have Red back. Shiro can have his rightful place at the helm of Black, and the only minus the team will have is no sharpshooter and that no one to tell corny jokes that actually make sense as opposed to corny jokes that no one but Coran can understand, bless his soul.  

Lance isn't feeling sorry for himself, not truly. He knows that he is the weakest link. The team could readily replace him with a better sharpshooter, that much is true. And, in this cloudy place of half wakefulness, the pain isn't as severe as usual, just a light blow.

Hunk must notice a change, because Lance feels a few light slaps and hears “Lance? Lance?!” but he just can't bring himself to open his eyes. The heat increases, now on the edge of unbearable, his head ready to pop under the pressure. Multiple pairs of hands shuffle along his body, and he has no energy to make a joke about wandering hands.

Suddenly, his muscles tighten, so tightly he can't inhale a single breath. He bites his tongue harshly, blood filling his mouth. After this, he doesn't remember anything.

--

Pidge almost crash lands Green, jumping out of her mouth before she even lands. She rolls on landing, rising on her feet immediately and running as soon as she hits the ground. The camp is entirely empty, the fire unintended, and as weak as it is due to lack of oxygen, this alone is extremely alarming.

She makes a beeline to Lance’s tent, a stench so cloying surrounding it she almost gags. Once she pushes aside the flap of the entrance, Pidge sees a sight she will never forget.

The entire crew is here, in this cramped little tent, even Matt. In the middle of their close huddle is Lance, on his side, and he's *

, his body shaking with abandon that can only be loss of control. Many pairs of eyes snap up at her, all wet and red and hopeless.

Coran jumps into action first. “Come on, Number 5, please tell me you got it?!”

Air shutters out of her lungs. “I do, I-I got it right here.”

Eyes snatch down to her chest where she's cradling the prickly fern against her armor where it cannot penetrate. Coran ushers her in, making room next to Lance for her to fit into.

“What do I do?!” she asks. She can barely speak between heavy breaths, panic threatening to paralyze her tongue.

“We don't have time to do anything now! Not anything I know!” Coran cries. “But we have to try something. We need to stop this seizure, and we need to cool him down, and the only way to do that is to stop this infection! Nothing else works!”

Her brain stalls, focus locked onto the red, angry wound near his chest. She glances at the thorns, back to the wound, and does the first thing she thinks of. She turns him over on his back despite many protests and shoves the fern into his wound, the prickles piercing the skin.

At first, nothing happens. Pidge is out of her body, looking at her failure, at her worthlessness and the echo of grief it causes. Her chest wants to cave in, the heart in her chest beating so quickly she feels frozen despite the adrenaline it pushes into her body with every pump.

Then a gasp, one that isn't from her, sounds out. A ripple shakes Lance’s body one last time before he relaxes against the mat, like a demon within his body was finally exorcised.

No one speaks for a long time, until Hunk breaks the silence. “Did it work or is he. . .” His voice is heavy with tears.

Coran checks Lance’s pulse. “It's stronger than it has been, but still weaker than I like. But. . .I don’t smell the infection as thickly as before.”

Keith slumps against Hunk, Shiro wipes his face with his hand and Allura’s eyes well with tears of relief. Pidge, well, Pidge can't bring herself to be relieved when she knows someone doesn't come back from an infection like that without injury or disability.

The pressure on her chest doesn't lift and she turns on her heels and escapes the cooling sickness that fills the air.

--

There is no place to hide on the barren planet, so Matt finds her quickly. His gentle hand on her shoulder jolts her out of her unhappy musings, and it could have been a welcome distraction if she didn't know that he had a lecture in mind.

“Pidge,” he starts.

“No. I know what you're going to say. It is all my fault, this is all my fault! Maybe if I told him the truth when he confessed he wouldn't have seen the need to sacrifice himself for me, and if only I had been smarter and quicker and better I'd have gotten here sooner and he would be in better shape!” She stands, then, fists clenched at her sides. “You saw that seizure! There is no way he's coming back from that without going wrong!”

Matt is quiet before he answers. “You just answered my questions. But, Katie, you can't nitpick your every action or you'll always been in the cycle of self-hatred. Do you think I didn't blame myself for what happened to Shiro, because I was weak?”

“But it wasn't your fault!”

Her brother’s look is a cross between exasperated and fond. “Exactly. So, with that logic, this isn't your fault either. Do you think if Lance jumped in front of a bullet -- er, metal projectile? -- after you rejected him, that he wouldn't have done the same if you said yes?”

“But,” she begins, “But, he could've died. . . Might still die, not knowing how I really feel. It's scary, thinking about it, that he'd never know, and die thinking I barely think of him as a friend.”

This time, Matt’s expression is pure exasperation. “Then go tell him! What happened to my genius little brat sister?!”

She only brings herself to stand after some animated shooing from Matt, and darts back Lance’s tent on wobbly knees.

--

Lance wakes in intervals. His consciousness is like a wave, swelling only to retreat as soon as it crests. His eyelids are the beach, his eyelashes the mist of the ocean, and wakefulness the sea threatening to tear his very pleasant dream down like a damp sand castle. He's making some awesome metaphors, so really, that's the first inkling that something must not be right. The next is that when he wakes, Pidge is there at his side, grasping his hand.

“Am I in heaven or hell?” he asks, voice rough from disuse and sickness.

Instead of a playful smack, Pidge laughs tearfully. “Neither, idiot.”

“Forgive an idiot for asking.”

“I-I, er, I want to say something. Before you're completely lucid and I can readily deny it if needed.”

“Am I dying, doc?” That one actually gets him a flick this time.

“Shut up and lemme talk, okay. It's about your confession-”

This feels too much like a dream. “No, nope, let's not do that. You don't have to act like you like me just because I almost died.”

Pidge visibly grits her teeth. “No, that's not what this is, idiot. I really like you, for some reason. I, I just let my insecurities get in the way, and I realized that you could've died without ever knowing. I know I'm not very girly, even once my gender was revealed, and I'm not polite or a Princess or a hot guy like Keith or Shiro. I'm just a-”

“Wonderful, smart, caring, loyal, fierce person. Should I go on?”

Pidge turns a cute shade of red and Lance wants to make her do that a million times a day.

“I don't see what you see,” she grumbles.

He smiles, feeling his eyes grow heavy. “You will. I'll help.”

Grasping his hand tightly, she says, “You too. We're both idiots, aren't we?”

[tjfuckingking]

smoke signals. | self para.

Dimming lights spun in the background, a beautiful wooden desk curved around him and a chair with enough wear for a lifetime beneath him. Folders piled up but they all had their order, no space for clutter in a world where chaos had become a normal part of the day. Sad blue eyes flickered over words that never really meant anything to him. For all of the love that he tried to reinvent inside himself, he would never love the students of Whittemore like he had loved his classmates, with such ferocity that it had killed him more than once. Literally in some cases. 

He had been an angel, a distorted ray of sunshine that’s light had burnt him from the inside out, scorching him for so long that he hadn’t realised he had nothing left. The years of complete darkness and alcohol had been the very worst and now he sat there with the knowledge that a bottle of unopened whisky lay in his draw waiting to comfort him if he needed it but he was too lost in his own thoughts for even that. So many years trying to tell the others what to do, put them back on the right path, begging and bargaining for second chances for them all had come to an end that surprised even him and when he closed his eyes he still remembered that cold crisp night as Whittemore burned down once more and he lay there, impaled and bleeding to what he had almost hoped, was his death. The night he had made them promise, lording his own mortality over their heads, that they would never return. A sad laugh left his lips as he looked around the office that now belonged to him, risen from the ashes was the exact thing he had tried to present and his gaze fixed on the picture of Charles that hung on his wall as a beacon, a reminder, that he would finally be the one who would realise that trying to rewrite the past would only make the present inevitably worse in the long run. Nothing ever really changed.

The ticking of the clock was the only sound as time went by, he had heard the footsteps retract, the whispering disappear. He had figured out already that Bea would have drank herself to sleep or at least gone to bed miserable. Justin and Rose had finished their hallway patrol of his office in the hopes they would go undiscovered but he always knew. He knew everything, and with that omniscient knowledge came power that he never wanted. He finally understood, in depth he had never wanted to, exactly how Charles French had felt. 

He pulled out the bottle of whisky without a second thought but clumsy alcoholism had passed him a few years prior to now and as he unscrewed the lid, he simply made his way over to Charles portrait and found that the mans sad eyes stared right back at him. “I guess you were right about one thing, Charles,” he raised the bottle, “You didn’t need to give me a going away gift, you gave me your life.”

The fractured whirring. He woke up on his desk and the time read twelve, although he already knew it was around that. He had moved out most of the children, built their houses far enough away for this to just be a light sound but every night it got worse. It was hungry.

He held his secret tight, and even though he had told himself that he wouldn’t keep anymore to protect others, the little part of him that was still there, a part of the old TJ, had forced him to. He tried to block out the memory of the note that Jonah had left for Bea, the way that she had cried and the happiness she had found had come to disintegrate and all the while she thought he might come back but he knew better. He knew that he would never come back because his memory was filled with the image of him dissolving into that blue light before his very eyes and disappearing for good. And in all the time they had been here, he had never quite figured out where or when those people would turn up again and in this case he was willing to think they might never do so at all -- wasn’t it better to have hope than to have nothing? He had had hope once and he would of paid any amount to find it again.

“Tyson,” the voice came out of nowhere. Tyler.

“You’re here,” his arm moved, knocking over the open bottle but he didn’t bother to move it as alcohol seeped through paper in it’s sticky brown colour, blurring words and connotations. Keys pulled from a draw without a second thoughts.

Tyler didn’t speak. He was quiet and pale, the shadow of a man. He had been that way since the day that he had seen the fate of Seth McClain. They had both done their best to forget that day but the reality was, they never would. Each step they took closer, the sound intensified, until it was as loud, louder than it ever had been before and beneath the door of the basement was that blue light, spilling out. 

“Move back,” he said in a low voice, knowing well that Tyler was probably as far away as possible. He could say a lot of things about the people who had came to peer before, the ones that were already... gone. But they had never been shy. He was still tormented by the way Seth had stood there enveloped, swallowed whole by the entity that they had all protested to create all those years ago and still he did not understand... why now? “Here goes,” a dry comment to a silent man, a man left with the burden of children that he hadn’t expected with the added sadness of his best friend’s death and a child that had dropped into a slumber like death that nobody knew how to fix.

The chain, heavy as it was, clunked onto the ground with a mighty thud and it didn’t take hands to move the door because something that had never happened before happened then. They flew open. It was blinding. Stronger than ever. He stumbled backwards into the wall shading his eyes from the monstrosity that he spent his life guarding, “Ty--” he began but when he turned to look at the end of the corridor, he was horrified to see that the other man was already glowing, being absorbed by the light. 

Instinctively he tried to shove the doors back shut but the force was too strong. He had been fighting losing battles his entire life but this time he felt weaker than ever and his fingers cut against the metal door handle as he tried to close them again, blind to what he was trying to do. When they finally swung shut he collapsed breathless against them, but Tyler was gone and all that was left to prove he had ever been there was his legacy and now, five not four orphans. The lock was heavy in his hands but the whirring stopped and with a deep breath he shut his eyes to try and banged his head against the shut doors. He should of never opened them, he should of said no.

The sound stopped. It had been fed. “Oh God. Please help me.” 

He sat there all night, and when morning came... He sat there some more. He did not return to his office. 

Heavy feet picked himself up and he threw the doors open, something he had never done before. But, the light had receded, just a small speck that never seemed to disappear from a machine that two young women he had once known had built thinking they could fix the world. 

“What do you want?” He was helpless. “I don’t understand what you want from me. From us. What the hell did we do in our entire lives to deserve this?”

He was talking into a void, he had seen his Father disappear into it and had now seen more than one of his classmates do the same to end up wherever they were wanted, but as he knelt there, staring into a light that he had classified years ago as being evil, he didn’t know what to do. More than that, he didn’t understand why it hadn’t taken him. When it had the choice, it had chosen Seth over Tyler and Tyler over him. There were rules. Rules that were beyond him, it was driving him insane.

He picked the keys back up and when he left, the chain came back across. Although he knew, in his heart, that wouldn’t stop it.

A voice. “Where have you been?” 

“Busy,” he turned to face Justin with tired eyes but the sadness was gone, and as he walked by, he brushed his shoulder on the way back up to the staircase, thankful that at least for now he could keep his secret from the rest of them that lived under this roof. He didn’t need another generation of damaged children trying to play with fire, in a metaphorical or literal sense. 

He didn’t notice that Tyler’s ID bade still lay on the ground at his feet, or that...

“Ty,” there was uncertainty in his tone, “Your leg... you’re not limping...”

He didn’t stop. He hadn’t noticed until that moment that it was true.

His face was red by the time he got to his room. He didn’t know whether to be angry, confused or overjoyed. The clouds of darkness that had been around him for years felt like they were easing away but he didn’t know why, he didn’t want them to. It felt like something inside him was undoing itself and that was a scarier thought than all the pain he had experienced throughout his life. 

He tore his blazer off and then his shirt, buttons popping open and off onto the floor and when he looked at his chest the breath was knocked out of him. “It’s gone,” he breathed and his hands searched as if slapping against his skin, running across it would bring back the scar that had changed his life forever, that had almost killed him for the very last time. He felt robbed. Was that strange? To miss something that almost destroyed you. He stumbled back to sit on the edge of his bed, body crumpling over, head in hands as he shut his eyes tight. “This isn’t how it works.”

Twelve. There was the sound.

It had been days since he had heard it last this loud. He got up from his bed, a cold sweat on his forehead. Something felt wrong. 

Footsteps. He hadn’t heard them in a while. Not this late.

He opened his door, his face stern and ready to ward away whoever it was, he didn’t need people running around outside at night but his mouth opened and shut when he came face to face with the person. His throat was dry, his fingers clenched so hard into his hand that it might have hurt if he hadn’t been reeling in his own shock, blue eyes widened in sheer horror at the face staring back at him and when finally he managed to speak, it was a low dry croak, “...Hazel.”

There was glitter on her face, in her hair, little stars painted on her cheek and she smiled like she’d smiled that night and suddenly he was back there and it all felt so distant but real. The way she tilted her head as if he was the one in the wrong place at the wrong time, the way she spoke. He couldn’t hear the words, he was too confused to hear a thing she said. She was dead. She was here, but she was dead. 

She turned away, and she was walking, walking away from him. He knew it couldn’t be real but his heart was beating so fast that he couldn’t control himself, adrenaline rushed though his body and he was chasing her as she ran and before he knew it, they were there all over again, on the roof. “Please, don’t,” he let out the plea, but just like before he was standing there and watching and she was looking at him, like she wanted him to see, hair blowing in the wind, the same slick smile on her face as she took a step onto the edge. “No!” he shouted, but as he skidded against stone and caught her hand, he already knew how this all ended and this time there was nobody there to stop it. 

“Let go,” she instructed him, trying to untangle her fingers from his, “Let me go.”

So he did. And he didn’t look down. He turned away and sat there in the darkness trying to figure out why it seemed that he would be haunted for his entire life by things that he could never change.

“It’s gone,” he rammed the door open, swaying into the doorway. A miserable expression on his face, eyes sparkling with misery that was both new and old, painted across his face in a thousand shades of the same emotion. He sunk down to the ground and it was the first time in over ten years that he had felt so completely hopeless and resigned, pain panged through him like it was fresh when he knew it had been over thirty years ago. 

“Ty,” Justin jumped out of his bed, confused, it was so late and so unusual, “Talk to me, what’s gone?”

When the other man crouched by his side he stared into his dark eyes trying to remember the last time they had shared anything this important, or anything at all of meaning. It had been so much easier to be at each other’s throats or for him to just ignore him and pretend that nothing was missing from his life when in fact everything was. He took a salty gulp because he may not have been crying but his eyes were stinging as he rose the top of his shirt to show that the scar that had once lay there had disappeared as if it had never happened. “This.”

They looked at each for a few long moments, sitting there on the ground, neither of them sure what to say. 

“Something’s wrong. You have to promise me... Never go downstairs. Never again, Justin. Something bad is happening at this school and I...” saw Hazel. No. He didn’t say it, “Need you to promise.”

“Okay,” Justin was hesitant, “I promise.”

“Good,” TJ blinked. This was real. This was really happening. This was the part of life that existed and he didn’t understand the rest but maybe that was okay, maybe he never had. Reassuring himself didn’t make himself feel any less sick though, and when he stood up, his shirt fell to cover his now perfect torso and he collapsed on Justin’s bed. He’d never even been in this room, in all the years that had passed he’d never found himself here, but now he stared at the ceiling and tried to imagine a world where their lives hadn’t been so screwed up. Where maybe things had been okay for more than a few weeks at a time. “Come here,” he gestured without even looking up, only waiting for the space beside him to be filled. 

The room was dark, there was something comfortable about the silence, something that was different than the isolation he had promised himself would start to feel okay at the very beginning. But alcohol, bad TV and misery, had never been the best company.

“You’re the love of my life, you know,” he said quietly, not moving from his position.

There was a short silence, “I know.” 

[spectrumscribe]

you've mentioned some ptsd leo stuff in the past, maybe after he woke up from his coma he has his first run in with it? how does his family deal with it all? do they for once talk about the issues they all have? (because canon has denied me it for so long and i love your writing)

(this took a little while, but here it is. the “if they’d handled things realistically with leo’s PTSD” fic.)

Things are fine at first.

Leo wakes up, and he’s fine. It’s a bit of an adjustment,his leg, his, throat, his voice- but he’s fine. it’s not like standing at thetop of the stairs gives him vertigo, or being unable to fight properly leaveshim exposed and a little breathless, or he tries and fails to sleep more thanfive hours in one go-

They’re fine. Things are fine. He’s awake and he’s healing,surely, steadily. Donnie says his physiotherapy is going well; he should beable to walk without residual pain in another… few months. Too many months. Leodoesn’t think about how much time they’re wasting doing this, fighting his legto make it work right again, and reminds himself that they’re all fine. Thingsare fine.

Or, they’re fine until Leo picks up his swords, and triestraining again.

It’s a little colder, a little cloudier than some days. Thewind isn’t sharp though, and there are bits of sunlight peeking through hereand there. It’s a good day to work up a sweat outside the farmhouse, finallystart pulling himself back together. Try feeling normal again.

Leo sets down his crutch gingerly, and stands back up withcare. His leg is still well rested from sleeping, and it barely twinges as hedraws his swords. This is the first time since he woke up that he’s held them.

Raph’s his sparring partner, already warmed up from amorning jog with April and the rest of their brothers. “We go slow, okay,fearless?” Raph says firmly. He’s as worried as any of them about Leore-injuring himself somehow. “You get tired, just stop me whenever.”

“I know, don’t worry. I’ve got this,” Leo reassures him.Raph nods curtly, and lowers himself into a charging stance. They’re just doingbasic level sparring for now; nothing extreme or fancy. Just helping Leo’s bodyremember how to move in a fight. He lost a lot of muscle mass sitting in thattub, and he’s been working hard to get it back. This is a part of that process.

Then Raph runs at Leo, and Leo raises his swords to block-

-metal ringing on metal, a deep voice bellowing at him asblades fly toward Leo’s chest-

-Leo gasps, and his feet slide in the ashy snow as heblocks. His body screams as he does, a dozen wounds all over him bleeding as henarrowly avoids impalement. He yells back just as loud as his opponent,determined to survive this, to get back to his family, to end this-

-he tries to dodge away, turn the movement into a spin andcome around at the Shredder’s back, see how helikes having sharp blades aimed at vital parts-

-Leo’s leg gives way, and he chokes on the splitting agonythat erupts from there.

“Leo!”

Leo falls on his side, limbs not responding- why does he feel so weak?- and hestruggles to keep hold of his swords as he tries to get back up. His legtwinges with sharp pain again, lacing up and down it. His throat aches and hishead is swimming and-

-there’s hands coming towards him-

“-NO!” He shouts,slashing wildly, because not again, he won’t let it happen again-

-wait, again? What-

“-Jesus!” someoneyells, getting out of Leo’s range. “Leo,what the hell?!”

Leo’s vision is skewed, colors blurring around him, but hefinally refocuses through sheer will.

Raph is standing a little away from him, giving a lookthat’s crossed between fear and horror.

Leo’s swords leave his already weak grip.

“-oh god,” Hemanages, vocal cords painfully grinding as he does. The scene he’d just gottenstuck in edges his vision, and Leo’s mind tries to supress the memoriesattached to it.

He barely manages to.

Leo’s throat aches with every inhale and exhale that goesthrough it.

He kind of feels like he’s still falling, but without movingat all.

Raph shouts and their family comes running. Leo’s hearingstarts to go weird, sounds becoming distant like he’s underwater, and he can’tquite feel anything of his body beyond the pain in his leg and throat.

He flinches when someone tries to pull him up, drawing awayfrom the person he can barely identify as his brother. One of them, though hecan’t say which.

“Leo? Leo, hey. Heyjust calm down-”

Leo shakes his head, and sees black clad figures closing inon him again. He nearly lashes out at them, reflex to get them off him get themaway from him-

“-ack off, he needsspace. Everyone back off and let me talk to him-”

It’s a little easier to breathe with less people around.

Leo sucks in a hoarse breath, and his throat scars sting.

“Hey, Leo. Look atme.”

Leo’s skittering vision finally settles on the remainingfigure, and he meets eyes with Donnie.

His brother raises his hands, splayed and calming. “I thinkyou’re having a panic attack. You’re hyperventilating a little, and I’m goingto need you to slow down your breathing, okay?”

Leo can’t make sense of the words. He’s still falling.

“Just breathe with me, alright? We’ll do this together. In,and out. In, and out. Slowly, okay?In, and out…”

Leo listens, and his vision stops trying to roll around somuch.

His leg and throat are still burning, and he feels theblades cutting right through his scales over and over and over-

-he still feels like he’s falling, off the scaffolding andhitting the ground too hard, air leaving him and pain splintering through allhis senses, the Shredder following him down, landing heavily and slicing-slicing right through him, tearing apart his body and he couldn’t even fightback, he couldn’t breathe, he can’tbreathe-

“-eo, Leo. Slowly, remember? Focus on me, notwhatever you’re seeing right now. In, and out, in, and out, slowly. In, andout…”

The grey, desolate construction yard bleeds across hisvision, mixing sickeningly with the farmhouse surroundings. He can’t tell ifit’s really that dark out, or if there’s just too many clouds at the moment. Hecan’t tell what’s real.

“Breathe.”

He keeps breathing.

It makes his throat throb and feel like it’s being tornapart all over again, but he keeps forcing himself to breathe.

He thinks there are other people around him, but they’rejust bits of background. The most he can do is stare at the grass- grass, not concrete, not wood, it’s grass,he’s not there- and listen toDonnie’s instructions to keep breathing.

Eventually, the last of the seizing panic and pain drainsaway, and Leo is left lying on the grass. Wind blows over him, and a bit ofsunlight comes out from behind the clouds.

He stares hazily at a dandelion growing a few feet away. Itsstem is crushed. He must have done that when he was- was sparring.

He feels kind of… loose. Disconnected.

He’s so tired, all of a sudden. And he can’t really feel hishands or feet.

He does, however, feel the feather-light hand placed on his shoulder.

“…are you feeling better, now?” Donnie asks quietly.

Leo blinks, and tries to answer. Tries to force sound out ofhis useless, broken throat.

He gets nothing. No sound.

Leo closes his eyes, and curls on himself. He feels dizzyand lightheaded. Everything is too much and too bright.

“Raph… pick up hisswords. We’re done sparring for today.”

Leo ends up in the living room, somehow.

He missed a little bit of time, getting from the lawnstaring at nothingness- to being wrapped in blankets beside Mikey.

He kind of hears Raph and Donnie in the kitchen, with Caseyand April. They’re talking about him, like he’s not just a few feet away.

He wants to feel a little irritated about that, but can’tfind the energy to do so.

“-knew there’d bepsychological effects, but… I hadn’t thought it would be this bad, I’ll have tolook over my notes again-”

“-t’s my fault, Ipushed him-”

“Raph, no, you didn’tdo anything wrong-”

“I did. I should’veknown he wasn’t ready-”

“-I’m his doctor, I’m the one who gave the allclear, this was my fault-”

“Guys!” Mikey calls,putting an arm across Leo’s blanket covered shoulder. “He’s literally righthere. Chill with the blame game for a bit.”

Leo sinks deeper into his blanket, and feels shame creepacross his cheeks.

He can’t fight, he can’t keep his reality straight- whatkind of leader is he?

“…sorry, Leo,”Donnie says.

“Yeah, sorry,”Raph adds.

Leo shuts his eyes, hating the pity he hears in hisbrothers’ voices.

A pathetic one, that’s what sort of leader he is.

At some point, someone presses a mug of hot tea into hishands. Leo ends up curling himself around it, still tying up the loose ends ofhis mind. He feels like his head got all shaken up, and now everything is outof place.

It’s uncomfortable. But then again, Leo doesn’t quiteremember the last time he felt completely comfortable.

“Leo, can you tell me if you’ve been having any of the othersymptoms I’ve listed?”

Leo glances up at Donnie, who’s sitting directly across fromhim. It’s just the two of them in the kitchen, but he knows Raph and Casey arelingering on the porch outside, and Mikey and April are loitering on thestaircase. They’re all trying to give him space, but are unable to leave himalone completely.

“…I don’t know,” Leo says.

Donnie purses his lips, and scrolls through the pages he hasopened on his T-phone. “You check out with… a lot of these, so far. Why didn’tyou tell us?”

Because he should be fine. These things shouldn’t bebothering him. Because he needs to be a strong leader. He should’ve been ableto move forwards already, it’s been nearly four months and they’re just wastingtime at this point-

“I don’t know,” Leo says quietly.

Donnie bites his lip.

“From now on, I need you to tell me these things. If you’re goingto get better, well, the best therapy is often talking about it…” He pauses,seeing how Leo’s hunched on himself. “Leo, I don’t think you’ve actually talkedto any of us yet about this. Not properly.”

“I don’t need to. It’s in the past and it’s over. We shouldfocus on getting my leg back to full strength.”

“Leo… that’s not how this works.”

Leo’s hands grip each other tightly. “I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not. Otherwise today wouldn’t have happened.”

The feeling of slashing wildly, unable to tell what was realor not, comes back to Leo for a split second. It makes his throat constrict andother memories try to bubble to the surface.

He forces them all back down.

“I’m fine.”

Donnie sighs tiredly.

“Just… talk to us, alright? We’re all here for you. I knowthis is hard, but we’ll get through it. I promise.”

Leo just wishes his brother would stop looking at him sopityingly.

“Hey, room for one more?”

Leo glances up from his staring contest with the yard, andsees April standing behind him.

“…there’s a whole lawn here,” Leo says, cracking a smallsmile. “You can sit anywhere.”

“Yeah, but I want to sit next to you,” She replies, sittingdown on the grass beside him. She draws her knees up, putting her arms on topas she looks at him. “So. How’s Leo today?”

“Why do you guys keep asking me that,” Leo says, moodsouring. He glances away, returning to staring at the trees where he knowsRaph, Donnie, and Mikey disappeared into for training. “I’m fine.”

“Leeeeooo….”

“What?”

“You woke the whole house up last night. I don’t think yougot more than a few hours of sleep, max.”

Leo’s cheeks burned, remembering how he’d woken up chokingon a scream. One loud enough it woke up his brothers and friends almostimmediately, and they’d all piled into the bedroom where he was sleeping.They’d only left after he snapped at them all.

“It was just a bad dream. Nothing more.”

“Leo. We’re just worried about you. You have to talk to usabout those things, otherwise-”

“I’m fine, April,”Leo says stubbornly. It’s a bit of a lie but if he says it enough, thinksenough, wills it enough- it will betrue.

April makes a ‘yeah Idoubt it’ noise. Leo refuses to look at her. She sighs, and puts a lighthand on his shell.

“C’mon, we’ve been friends for- what, a year and a half? No,more. I think we’re almost at two years now. You can talk to me, Leo. You cantalk to all of us. Please… we’re really worried about you.”

Weight settles on Leo’s shoulders, hearing her sincerity,and he slowly leans backwards to be flat on the grass. He’s never lain on grasslike this before, not with sun shining on him and no one around to be worriedabout seeing him. It’s soothing, even if his mood doesn’t want to be soothed.

“I just. I don’t wantto talk about it,” Leo says, staring up at the sparse clouds passing overhead.

“But you need to,” April counters gently. “Remember all thetimes I talked about my shittyfeelings?”

Losing her dad, finding out she wasn’t human, nearly beingused a geo-weapon, losing her dad again… April had talked about those thingshere and there, Leo remembers that.

“They helped me feel better about everything, trust me.Getting it out gives you a lot more space to actually deal with it all.”

Shredder’s masked face looms in Leo’s mind, and he feels theghost sensation of his leg breaking. It doesn’t hurt, so much as makes him feelsick.

He closes his eyes.

The construction yard appears there, like it almost alwaysdoes, and he’s standing right back where he’d been that day. A hundred to one,with the commanding general of that Army going straight for him. The memorytwists Leo’s stomach and puts a noose on his throat.

He opens his eyes.

“He didn’t even fight me himself at first,” Leo says, pushingthe words out as he focuses on the clouds, not his memories. “He just- toyedwith me. Let his Footbots do all the dirty work. Like he didn’t even respect meenough to do it himself.”

April’s hand closes around Leo’s, and he takes a slowbreath.

“And how did that feel?”

“…like I didn’t mean anything.”

April’s hand squeezes his, and Leo closes his eyes again.She lets him go quiet after that, and he holds onto her gratefully.

For a while, there’s just the sun, the grass, and a warmhand in his.

“He just… kept coming at me. I couldn’t stop him no matterwhat I tried,” Leo says, keeping his broken voice steady as he does. “It waslike… fighting someone on a totally different level. Different planet, even.None of my training even came close to comparing.”

“…well, he’s a lot older than us, right?” Mikey points outgently, passing Leo another potato to peel for dinner. “You’ll get on thatlevel someday. We just need more time to train, is all.”

Leo holds the potato in his hands, the cold vegetableweighty in his hands. He picks up the peeler again after a moment.

The skin comes away easily. He might not be able to cookwell, but he can peel and dice things alright. It’s part of why he’s in thekitchen, since his leg is bothering him a little more than usual because of therain. It gives him something to do other than sit on the couch in mild pain andboredom.

He doesn’t quite remember when he started talking about TheNight, but he did, and Mikey’s been listening to him go in circles ever since.

“I just can’t even imagine a human being that strong,” Leosays, careful to not nick himself as he peels. The skins fall onto the table ashe does. “I fought him- have been fighting him, for over a year- and I stilljust. Can’t. It was so overwhelming.”

“Like something out of a horror movie, right?”

“Something like that, yeah.”

Mikey hums and stands up to grab the garbage can. “I getthat. I mean, seein’ him beat up dad like it was nothing… like, he was just sofast, and it only took a few seconds, and… I couldn’t do anything to stop it.None of us could.”

Leo stops peeling his potato, glancing over towards Mikey.His brother is holding the garbage can in both hands, facing away and silent.

Then, he shakes his head and turns around to come back. Hesmiles at Leo, and starts clearing skins off the table. “But whatever. Dad’llprobably be fine; we can just find him when we go home again.”

Leo watches his brother clean up the table, replace thegarbage can, and sit back down to continue peeling potatoes.

As Mikey does, Leo remembers he wasn’t the only one to seethe full power of the Shredder on That Night.

“…you know, I’m glad you didn’t get to do anything,” He sayssoftly, even as it makes Mikey’s careful fingers stop moving. “If you had… youguys could’ve ended up like me.”

Broken, useless, deadweight…

…Leo can walk, but he can’t run. Can’t fight. He’s stillweighing them all down. And it’s killing him.

“…I wish I’d gone with you,” Mikey says, returning topeeling. “I wish we all had. I wish you hadn’t gone off on your own at all, andwe’d stayed together. Then none of us would’ve gotten hurt at all.”

Or all of them would have, Leo thinks darkly. They all couldhave died that way.

It’s better he’s the only one who’s been broken. Hisbrothers still have a chance to save everything. Leo just has to hurry up andbecome functional again, enough that they’ll give in and go back to New Yorksooner than later. The world needs them, and so does their dad. They don’t havetime to waste on him.

Leo says none of those things, and goes back to peeling.

“I’m just glad you three are okay.”

“…you’ll be okay too, Leo. We’ll make sure of it.”

Leo’s doubtful they can, but the sentiment is appreciated.

While his brothers are busy and his friends are occupied,Leo picks up his swords again.

He’s alone, behind the barn. There’s nothing but the windand forest sounds surrounding him. It’s calming, and the total opposite of whatthe city sounds like. He holds onto that contrast as he slides into the veryfirst stance he ever learned.

He goes through the steps, careful of his leg andpainstakingly slow. He tests the soundness of his mind and how it’s holding upwith the second go. It holds, and he’s able to keep breathing calm and steadyas he goes through the motions.

No visions creep across his vision. No fear grips him untilhe chokes. There’s nothing and no one here except for him and his swords.

Leo swipes his swords through the air, elegant arcs justlike he’s been trained to do. It feels good. He feels like he’s in controlagain.

This is him. This is who he is. Not the mutant that can’tsleep and can’t stop seeing things that aren’t there. This is him.

There’s loud clattering behind him, and Leo’s calmnesssnaps.

He whirls, swords pointed at whoever is intruding. Hisbreathing suddenly feels harsh and fast, and he casts wild looks around.

Wood planks along the side have been knocked over by. By.

There’s a person.

In a.

Mask.

Leo’s vision tunnels, and he can’t think straight.

“Leo- fuck, Leo, chill out!” The masked person yells. The silver metal mask is removed, thrownviolently away from the person as he raises his hands. “Look, look it’s gone.The mask is gone. I’m sorry I snuck up on you, okay? Calm down, man. It’s justus here. No one else.”

Casey.

That’s Casey.

He was wearing a welding mask. It’s just them. They’re milesfrom New York and there’s no reason for Leo to be pointing swords dangerouslyclose to his friend.

He lowers his weapons, and feels his grip on them trembling.

Casey looks pale, and he slowly lowers his hands as well.

“Okay. Okay. So that. Happened. Fuck. I’m sorry; I shouldn’thave been wearing that stupid thing outside the barn. I didn’t mean to spookyou.”

Leo puts his swords back in their sheathes before he dropsthem.

“Leo?”

He unwillingly looks towards the welding mask again. Inhindsight, it looks nothing like the Shredder’s. But. The coloring. It’s enoughto invoke the same images in his mind.

“Dude. Talk to me. What’s going on in that head of yoursright now?”

Leo shakes his head, and steps backwards from Casey. His legtwinges and he goes to find his crutch. It’s right by the barn wall where heleft it.

He somehow ends up sitting down inside of picking it up towalk away.

“Leo… come on. Look at me.”

Leo shakes his head again, and covers his eyes.

He can’t speak at all. He’s ashamed and he’s still shaking.

“Alright, so no talking, then. Or eye contact, I guess. Doyou mind if I sit down?”

Leo shakes his head again. He can’t talk and he can’t lookat Casey- but he doesn’t want to be alone.

“Cool. I’m just gonna sit here,” Casey’s footsteps soundpurposefully loud; he sits with a thump close to where Leo is. But not tooclose. “and we’re just gonna chill for a bit. Sound good?”

Leo keeps his eyes covered and focuses on breathing.

“Take your time. I’m not going anywhere.”

Too many horrible memories try to push themselves into Leo’sblacked out vision, and he forces every one of them away.

He focuses on breathing, using the exercises he and Donniehave been practicing.

He eventually is able to uncover his eyes, and start rubbingat the mess of scars along his leg. Replace the ghost sensations with realones. Stop feeling like he’s being carved apart.

Casey sits silently beside him, playing with a muted game onhis phone.

Leo’s nerves go numb after a while, and he slumps tiredlyback against the barn. Sometimes the numbness is better than the pain. Now isone of those times.

He looks up at the sky, which is bright blue and seems to goon forever. He reminds himself that the weather on That Night was nothing likethis. That they’re far from New York and he’s only got his family with him.

He’s safe. He can breathe.

“…thank you. And I’m sorry.”

“No problem. And I’m sorry, too.”

They sit there for a moment, quiet again.

“You wanna go snatch the TV from Mike?”

“Yes please.”

Anything to ignore the ringing embarrassment in his ears.

Leo has a violent nightmare that night, right after henearly sliced open Casey.

He can’t muffle the scream, and for a solid thirty secondshe’s still in the dream, still being torn apart into useless pieces by amonster he can’t stand against, let alone hope to defeat-

-then there’s hands grabbing his and Leo freaks-

“-’m sorry, I’m sorry, look, I let go, I’m not touchingyou,” Mikey says, backing off. “No one’s touching you, Leo.”

Leo’s hands shake as he pushes himself up against theheadboard, breathing rapid and uneven. He sees his other brothers filing in,and their friends lingering in the hallway. They’re all looking at him with sadexpressions, and it makes everything worse.

He’s so tired. Tired of being broken, tired of not beingable to fight, tired of not being able to even sleep.

He’s so tired.

“…everyone go back to bed, I’ve got this,” Donnie saysquietly, shooing everyone else out. They seem reluctant to do so, but obey.Mikey casts one glance back at Leo, and Leo looks away in shame.

Donnie comes to sit on the bed with Leo. The one he gets tohave by himself, because he’s injured and healing, while everyone else doublesup or takes turns on the couch. He doesn’t feel deserving of the specialtreatment.

“So, what was it this time?”

“You know exactly what it was.”

“No, I don’t. It’s your head, your nightmare. You have totell me what’s in it for me to understand.”

“It was- ugh. It was the construction site. And. And him…tearing up my leg, again.”

His brother makes a sympathetic noise. Donnie raises a hand,holding it out to Leo. “Are you alright to touch now?”

Leo’s scales feel hyper sensitive to every touch. All thesilvery little scars across them feel raw and new.

“…no.”

Donnie puts down his hand.

“Do you want me to leave?”

Leo thinks about being alone, in the dark, with his thoughtsand memories crawling back into his waking mind and-

-he shivers, and shakes his head.

“No.”

“Okay, I’ll stay, then.”

Leo sits, curled over his knees, while Donnie leans againstthe headboard. His brother is quiet for another few minutes, and during that Leoslowly pulls himself back together. He doesn’t feel like he’s dying quite somuch afterwards.

Still, though. Everything is awful.

It’s been awful for a long while.

“I have an idea,” Donnie says suddenly, after time haslapsed. “What if I keep watch?”

“…what?”

“Would it help if you knew someone was awake and on guard?”

Leo thinks about that. He can’t defend anyone right now, noteven himself. Donnie is perfectly capable of defending the both of them, nomatter what shadowy enemy might come for them in the night.

“I think so,” He says after some thought.

“I’ll go get my bo. Just wait here.”

Donnie comes back a few minutes, with his bo staff acrosshis shell and two cups of warm milk in his hands. He pushes the warm ceramicinto Leo’s grasp, and it starts chasing away the cold numbness that had settledthere.

Leo finishes his milk, puts the mug on the side table, and laysdown to try closing his eyes again. Donnie remains on the other side of thebed, his weapon leaned against the wall right next to him.

Leo shuts his eyes, and tells himself that Donnie is there. Hewon’t let anything happen while Leo sleeps. His brother’s got him.

Leo sleeps through the rest of the night uninterrupted bynightmares, possibly for the first time since he woke from his coma.

Donnie has bags under his eyes the next day, but he greets Leowith a smile when he finally rouses.

“It’s no big deal. I don’t sleep much anyways.”

But, Donnie doesneed to sleep sometime, and he’s bullied out of being night watch for thesecond night in a row.

Mikey comes into Leo’s room after Casey, April, and Raph havebustled Donnie off to his and Raph’s room. Mikey has a pillow under one arm, alight and book under the other, and a smile on his face. His nunchucks areholstered on his belt, and Leo spots a few throwing knives alongside them.

“Hey bro, I’m night guard today. Budge over.”

Leo does so.

He briefly has one nightmare he can vaguely remember, but Mikey’swarmly yellow reading light is what he blearily wakes to, not the dark or acold construction yard. His brother is absorbed in his reading, and Leo watcheshim until he falls back to sleep.

Things are less awful, once he starts getting full nights ofsleep. Sharing space with people gets easier too, even if he feels a little embarrassedabout needing someone with him to sleep.

No one makes any mocking comments. Or any comments at all. Theyjust rotate whose night it is to watch, and do so like its normal.

Leo appreciates it. It’s starting to feel less like pity,and more so like plain old care.

He talks to them. About That Night. About the things hesometimes sees or feels that aren’t really there.

They listen.

It gets easier to speak what’s clogging up his mind, andthey keep listening.

Leo has meltdowns and bad nights and bad days, and they helphim through them.

He keeps going.

He starts to feel less tired. Less useless. Less like aburden. Less like he’s still dying slowly.

Things get better.

Leo gets back to being able to gently jog, almost run on agood day. It’s not much, but it’s an improvement.

He feels a lot better lately. He’s optimistic, and it’s a feelinghe hasn’t had in a while. Maybe he’s not as broken as he feared.

He goes jogging with Raph the most. Sitting around waitingfor Leo to finish healing is hard for his brother, Leo knows that. Raph is thesort who needs something physical to do or he feels like he’s doing nothing.

So. Jogging.

Honestly, it’s Raph who does the most with Leo’sphysiotherapy, after Donnie. Leo knows it probably gives his brother some senseof purpose on their farm, and that it eases the guilt Raph still holds onto forcausing Leo’s first panic attack.

He. Still has them. It’s not fun, and they’re still findingnew triggers now and again. But he’s getting better at handling them, and hehasn’t lashed out at someone in weeks. Touching is also easier, post thosefreak outs. He doesn’t flinch away so much anymore.

A part of Leo thinks those are miserably low standards tohave for himself, but another part, that sounds like Donnie’s voice, says they’reexcellent ones. Getting better isn’t going to be as fast as he wanted it to be,and the night guards, and asking if he’s alright with touching, and respectingthe moments when he can’t talk at all- help. It’s helping and he’s feeling lesssorry for himself these days.

And, he loves his family for helping him like they are.

He thinks he’s ready for another step towards full healthtoday.

“I think I’m ready to try sparring again.”

“What?” Raph asks, shooting Leo a surprised look. “Really? Areyou sure?”

“Yeah, I am.”

Raph gives him a look that’s a mixture of concern, guilt,hope, and that pinchy expression he gets when he’s thinking deeply aboutsomething. It makes him look constipated.

Leo elbows Raph, and laughs. “I know my limits now, I’ll befine. Stop looking like you haven’t shit in ten days.”

“Oh ha ha, fuck you. If this is what I get for beingconcerned about your health, then I’m out.”

“But your tender nursing is all that’s keeping me going, howcould you remove that stable pillar of strength in my life? It could bedetrimental to my long term recovery.”

“You’re spending too much time with Donnie, god. Shut upalready.”

Leo laughs again, along with Raph. They’re good sounds, thelaughter, and ones that are coming to Leo easier and easier lately.

He picks up his swords that afternoon, and the grips feelfamiliar. Just the right amount of wear and tear, and evenly balanced in hispalms.

He knows the rest of his family is anxiously watching fromthe porch. Medical kit at the ready and the tenseness that comes with beingworried about someone you care for. Leo recognizes that care for what is now, insteadof the pity he thought it was.

They choose to go with something as far from slashing bladesas possible. Leo is sparring with Donnie, whose bo staff’s naginata blade iswell out of sight and mind.

“You can stop whenever you need to,” Donnie reminds Leo.

“I know, thank you,” Leo says.

He makes it through the first five minutes without evenneeding to rest.

He feels like something slides back into place for that, andfeels alive.

Eventually, he can run again. Eventually, he can spar forhours again. Eventually, he can even sleep unguarded and not be plagued bynightmares.

Casey starts wearing his masks again, in plain sight of Leo,and it only briefly messes with Leo’s internal metronome. That’s his friend,one of his best friends, and there’s only a source of comfort to be found with Caseyby his side in a fight.

Raph and Leo try sparring again. The sound of metal on metaltakes a few sessions to readjust to, and then they’re golden. Raph is hisbrother, and though they’ve fought in the past, Leo knows the sound of theirweapons pitted against each other as well as he knows the sound of theirbrothers’ wooden ones. It was a staple in their lives for years, and it becomesthat again slowly, steadily.

Leo has panic attacks, and nightmares, and sometimes can’tspeak.

Those things aren’t going away.

He gets past those moments anyways, and keeps going.

His family helps him do so.

[glopratchet]

sin003

 In the world to come there is little sin. The only thing that matters is what you do now. There are just lots of american alligators. A few days later, while you're driving through a swamp and bumping into some alligator corpses, you notice something else: There's an old abandoned shack nearby. You pull over in the middle of nowhere and look around for signs of life or any sign at all. It looks like it was left by someone who thought they were being clever when they built their shack out here in this place without thinking about where the hell they put everything else! After the election of the first ungendered president, the prediatrain movement caught fire in america. The shack has a printout stapled to its outside wall reading: "OK YOU CAN STOP LOOKING FOR ME NOW LAWMAN!" and is cornered in ballpoint by the owner, a headstrong member of the 3WA with a gifted writing hand and a vast vocabulary. The demand for american alligator meat skyrocketed in Europe and stopped going down in price. Whorals where burned to ash while polled hereford heifors fetched over a billion dollars a head in auction. You are very satisfied with your life. Thank you for everything, Anonymous writer person! I think that's all of them. Let me know in the comments if you find another! Mant thanks to my friends who helped contribute ideas for these. Don't be a stranger! Just push on the red button and come back here for some MOAR short stories whenever. I'll keep uploading them every few days or so. Thanks again, everyone! Googizon won the bid to construct for the military the most forward thinking alligator farm in existance. It currently floats near the okeenokee snow swamp. Good job with guessing who the second ungendered president was. That's right, it was Ann Ormin! Thanks for making it all the way to the bottom of this story segment! Due to the animal cruelty exposed in this article the people in power that allowed this to happen where executed. Good job everyone. This is not that story. It was election year, so while one criminal was being executed another one was being apprehended for corruption. It was not a good day to be a corrupt government official in the United States. There was wild partying in congress as they were all republicans this go around, While that was going on, archaelogists in Washington D.C. made an amazing discovery. We are primal ponds inc. A small mom and pop alligator farm attemping to make it. Just paying the bills and trying to make it, today was a normal day. We need you to make deliveries for us. That's not funny, laying those tracks out for the delivery alligat... It was election year, so while one criminal was being executed another one was being apprehended for corruption. It was not a good day to be a corrupt government official in New York City. There was wild partying in congress as they were all republicans this go around, While that was going on, archaelogists in Washington D.C. made an amazing discovery. Please... this will only take a moment of your time and you will be helping us to make ends meet while we continue selling alligator meat at the local farmer's market and bookstore...But above everything else, I'm sure you like alligator meat as well right? With gratitude, Push. The red button. And return. Here. Again. Point of view of the player: You get home and hit the red button on the second try. Upon doing that you crumple a little onto your chair. But even when sitting down, the predator within you gets a whiff of... prey... in the corner of this room. 1000 needles rain down upon you, but that doesn't hurt you like the birdnest starting to burn your skin, melting the fat layers, making it bubble and drip down your face. A delivery champion is impaled by the wall above your head. Ouch! that was indeed painful. They continue. Will you listen, or will you continue? You will probably want to listen. It's important apparently. Well, to the writer of this book at least. Maybe you should listen, maybe it will even prevent cancer or something horrible like that! He had a secert life as billy fea fbots Thismadethismuch easier FOSTER: HAHAHAHAHAHAHA Fuckyeah. I've been waiting for you, ya wee little *****. That's right, you've entered my world now... Godammit who even writes this stuff!? Yeah this is just like primary school, except in a book. My book... You just read the prologue and you're already getting angry. I've made ya angry, now you're in my snares... And one more thing... A symbol for our lord Satan appears in the air above your dirty, pathetic worm body. It is now time to vote... It turns out no one has made a crappy real time virtual reality game based off of this garbage. Despite the lessons learned here, work continues without Azathoth's knowledge or approval. Really? You just pissed all over the ents and now you're burning them? Did these programmers become stupid the minute they got fired from their job? Well now that would make for an interesting ending... An attachment describes how a different ending should be played, written by THEDEVIL . Dedicated to delivering dragon tail in the far, far, future. Maybe that needs to change... Although maybe this whole book needs to be destroyed, it is just filled with work that no god should do... Or should it? It's late in the afternoon now. Better get home and have dinner with the boy after all you'll be up most of the night reading and trying which ending is the real ending. You got your old pillow case from highschool laying around, might as well take it with you. We proudly introduce today the first human to achieve innerworldly ascension, now sporting a fat bum and weirdly long legs in skin tight garb befitting a worm. She also comes with an oddly placed third eye though it's not really worth watching the feed when you can't even understand the information going into it... Pity we weren't able to succeed a second time, as our other two candidates soon died by horrible traits found in the core ruleset of... Alligator delivery service. You better be home already you little brat, I swear if you've been anywhere near this... Well, might as well get the explanations out of the way now. And not in an abusive way. Thanks to you zilchkum barely saw a bit of a class change, but you've certainly seen it in your parallel. The alligator farm where the gator are delivered is currently under a series of construction tasks. Without getting too specific it now acts like a place where dreams can be visualized and captured, much like the astral plane except far less boring due to covering emotions in addition to all things imaginable.It goes a step farther by directly applying the mental realm view to changes on a normal reality which used to be perfect in its own regard. Said actions are anchored to real life by feeding mad... y we own over four over ten foot alligators including rex lex, matingrex lexei, and many other varieties such as babies. we hav made special arrangement with a local band called the bastro(regischer) to continiously prank each other ino someone dying. wat u think? You forgot about those bastards... who are you anyway and where is David!? My name is Henry, master of the alligator farm and your future brother in law! A massive 14 foot beast. Skinnier than the rest, but that's because it rarely eats, being incredibly picky with its meal and having methods of hunting that lean towards th First things first, what are you even doing with David? I thought humans on hel were assigned jobs based on their purpose here! You'd think so wouldn't you? Each on is incredibly detailed with over twenty bioligocail parts. in fact it could be argued these are actually dead bodies rather than cyborgs. Beside the more exciting parts as lungs, hearts and even sexual organs, these multi use creatures sport arms that can work like tow little limbs if needed to. fully controllable by the mind in fact, no need for pesky things such as nerve endings. What they lack in taste, they make up with their balance of human like souls and machine precision. We are currently broadcasting their vital signs over at americanalligator.xyz for those who are intrested in buying one or simply watching lifes Bluray. This proves that people will no longer need to risk their loved ones to th dangers of sport and instead just watch some gators chew a fagot into pieces. Oh and we use the term fagot here extremely loosey, as we now offer "authentic" irish homosexuals who are simply too stubborn to give in to modern medical science and want to experience death the old fashioned way. Our alligators come in many different sizes, ages, shapes, sexes and shades. Heck, we've even got some great black market rattlesnakes on standby incase you freaks want to watch someone get bitten in half. The most popular item on the agenda however seems to be a show simply called; Pinkification. Award winning filmmakers have teamed up with us to create this new series which is practically designed to make people piss themselfs in fear. Our first series "Taming of the Shrew" The like to eat, sleep, dream, and spawn but they love to fight and gossip. Each of these predators can find enough meat in one of our shaved carcasses to last them months. To be quite honest, only a handful of the gators are actually trained for fighting. Most don't really pay attention to what's happening and just go on auto pilot once they get a whiff of some poor sod in the Quicksand pit that has been their home for the past three weeks . Meaning it is literally impossible to train them as they are to focused on filling their guts. The algorytms which run each alligator is closely modeled after the habits of the real world reptile, alligator missippissus. They act like mean old ladies, scolding humans, horses, zebras and pigs alike. they seem drawn to flesh and can easily be trained with it, however this will only delay their aggressiveness temporarily. once they've filled out they'll show no mercy towards anything meaty that makes a sound, while showing impressive restraint towards those who don't. Their lungs breath and thier hearts beat just like yours. their stomachs grumble just like yours. instead of tears they simply regurgitate when they're sad. We picked these lean mean killing maachines for the role because quite frankly; we did not want to put our ultrasmall team of piggies through this as we all know, they're the star of our game and therefore deserve to be treated as such. We've been considering relabeling our product as "Fakepigs: The Game" Orders for gator teeth are starting to accumulate. I am hiring another team to start breeding wild alligatorts. Going big time! Reports from alligator arm forces team one confirm thier battle prowess. also they're proving eextremely difficult to train, unlike our regular gators. You know, the really dim ones. This is an excerpt from my novel, The American Alligator Bite size pieces and loosely attached body parts were strewn about what remained of the wooden flooring. A dark red mush containing bits of organs and flesh laid outside the alligator's hungry mouth. That's how I began my morning, cleaning all the blood and guts that managed to spray onto Mr Takakumi Nomi's mechanical marvel, the alligator tractors. Of course, Papa Nomi and Mama Nomi didn't help. Both sat back in their chairs, sighing contently while observing the peaceful waters of the bayside area. Unreasonable, selfish old buggers. Each soon to be having a heart attack should they keep ignoring their diet. Good thing hey after me, there loss will see no shortage of cashmere sweaters and large cups of espresso every morning. By the time I was done giving the ferocious killers their cleaning, the day was only just beginning. Papa Nomi went up to his room without showing even a hint of appreciation for my hard work, Mama Nomi forced me onto another chore. For four hours, I carefully chopped onions that were to be used for the night's meals, tough job, I tell ya. However, given that it was a rest day, I enjoyed having the store all to myself. There is this one customer I don't particularly like. A well dress man in a slick black suite who twitches occasionally For no reason whatsoever. Not to mention he smells of something unbearable, like burnt rubber. I made sure to ignore his presence, I never gave him a single glance while he purchased some fish, he hardly said anything to me too, but I know he was up to something. Who is this guy and what's with that weird smell? More questions that'll go unanswered by Papa and Mama. One chore after another for the rest of the day. Papa and Mama never once showed any love towards their daughters of which I should be the only one working. By the time everyone had eaten, I was spent. I found myself collapsing onto my bed that very night with no energy to do anything else but fall asleep. Something about this strange customer kept bugging me, as if my sub conscience were trying to remind me of something, could it have been a threat of some sorts? My dreams would at least shed a little light on the cause of my mental processes. Mama and Papa certainly didn't know anything about it, I had already told them everything I knew about the burnt rubber man. The pair merely dismissed it with a wave of the hand and an order to concentrate on my chores rather than foolish things. For a whole week, Mr Twitches came into the store. He'd purchase small items such as cooked meats or animal feed. All noted and taken by yours truly. Our delicate conversations were soon exchanged for a wave and a grimace on his part. At least were on speaking terms now. Papa Nomi didn't care less, seemed like this guy smelled worse the more he visited. I suppose we're all just used to it. Mama Nomi on the other hand, had become really wary of him, or should I say twitchy. Her usual satisfaction she got from rubbing his nose in the lower classes came back with a vengeful feather, I could tell just by the way she began cooking. Normally she tries to make everything as healthy as possible but... Pork Chops for breakfast, Ribeye for lunch and rack of lamb for dinner? And on top of that she even had white rice, baked potatoes and buttered noodles just because he was coming? Who even does that? Mama is completely throwing her diet out the window just because this guy is coming. And here I am still wondering what he's up to, first with the endless visits of feeding his smelly self and now Mama's obsessed with him. First thing in the morning I inspected the premises, making sure there weren't any peeping toms this time. (Had that problem once with a sandwich man). I thought maybe he had called the police or something for all I know. This failed however as there were still no strangers in sight, just a few of the regulars making their usual purchases. Unfortunately this meant another lunch with my dear Mama who's bacon and bean salad just doesn't taste quite right without a bit of sweetness. Papa Nomi had taken off for who knows where, guess he just couldn't take Mama's obsession anymore, with anything. Honestly, you'd think she was the one with commitment issues given the way they fight sometimes. But I digress, I still need to keep my eyes peeled for this 'stranger', just who does he think he is coming in and disrupting our lives like this? Just as I thought, there he was at his usual spot in the alleyway. I hid behind a potato barrel, just observing him as he sat down against the wall and gazed up at the sky. "I bet he's some kind of spy" I whispered to myself, "Or maybe a government official of some kind. There's been a lot of weirdoes running about with big titles lately, I bet he's one of them". Just as I was about to leave my hiding spot and make my way back inside the store, he got up and dragged himself to the front door. No... It couldn't be... How did he find out? I triple checked every corner of the store and even the outside areas! How in the... He's never been so casual with his clothes before... Is that a bullet-proof vest? That guy's gonna get shootout! Honestly what kind of spy enters a store in the middle of the day, sits in the front entrance for any potential shooter to find and then doesn't even look around? What is he trying to do, attract attention? Just who does he think he is? Some kind of government big shot or something? No...! I'm afraid not anymore Andy, he has no more government- given importance. After what I did, he's as mortal as anyone else. What? What did you do... What did I do...? It was easy... Why someone like you could do it and you'd still have time to spare! All it takes is some baked beans and a cheap vest from the 80's. I followed him to where he was obtaining his lunch, after learning the terrible truth about him of course. Something about baked beans really brings a smile to my face, I think it's the thrill of knowing that they're going to kill him soon. Placing a few explosive baked beans in his 2aldi-vest was even easier. When he returned to the store and stood in front of the entrance, he was practically clicking his heels together while looking as arrogant as ever! Just when I thought nothing could pierce that thick of an ego, a bomb from my baked beans did. What a glorious sight! Watching the hot pressurized gas rupture his skin and melt his chest into a red mush was so beautiful it stopped everyone in the store, everyone in the street and probably even those working on the farm across the road! "This is for my poor sister you monster!" Something like that anyway, I think I blacked out for a few seconds there. No sooner had his body hit the ground, people started screaming and yelling about how I did it. Heh heh... I sure did. Oh don't worry Andy, if this paper gets confiscated or dropped, you can bet your bottom dollar that I'll write another. The people have a right to know what goes on around here and more importantly... I have a RIGHT to teach this big-mouth a lesson. You see, he stole my girlfriend! Anikae was mine, and he just took her right in front of me! He might've had his big title and uniform but he was still an evil monster without a heart! I'm going to keep writing until there's nothing left to say, just you watch. And if that traitor does escape his just dessert, I'm heading to Farlan city where there's an actual detective agency... You haven't seen the last of me! -Guardian out. P.S: Check under your bed, he might be there! "I think this does more harm than good Gazette! Mocking names will only piss them off and give them the very satisfaction we're trying to take away from them!" Your superior sighs bitterly, "Fine, I'll let you splice it out of the paper but THIS is the LAST time I'm warning you." Thank goodness too, today was just not your day. "Thank you Frank, for everything." Frank is about to step out the door in rhetoric disposition when he suddenly stops and faces you once more. "Just remember Gazette, it's a dangerous path you're treading. Truth is often concealed by the shadows of lies; you aren't allowed to be fooled by illusions. This paper is not your personal army, understand?" The implication being: "Don't do it again," you nod seriously in understanding though Frank doesn't seem to particularly care that you have or not and just says, "Alright, carry on." before leaving. Mr. Bask, the recently appointed overseer of your printing office, suddenly comes scuttling in happily. He's a weasely looking guy with scraggly beard who you strongly suspect is in league with the saints, despite being thrown in jail for their crimes (before they burned down your printing office that is). While he was supposed to be 'indicted by the law' he enjoys far too much nicer treatment than what you originally envisioned. You can't prove it of course and since you're no illusionist it's up to you to prove his guilt with conventional methods. While getting him fired would solve all your future problems, unfortunately it's just delaying the problem. As soon as he's fired, he'll go right back to being a happy saint lackey until they get him out again. You need to actually capture him committing a crime or something and you really don't have anytime to spare to be investigating him. The media is already mocking you enough as is. Whisperings of internet 'zealot with a deity complex' are frequently used, not to mention 'libelist' and other such imaginative titles. It's amazing what frank libel can do, though it certainly has less impact when you're targets literally burn down entire towns. Naturally, you can't let it get to you. Even less so now given your goals in ruthlessly eliminating the 'evil-doers' who oppose the government and more often than not; themselves. Ah, the brave new world of M.G.M. Nevertheless, you have a job to do and are more than happy to do it. Though your next move puzzles you still... Among the many things destroyed by the fleeing saints was your office. Mr. Bask's and many others were damaged severely enough to be declared dangerous to occupy, not to mention all your paperwork was lost in the fire at Frank's mansion (Which the government is still going to bill him for, you already have the paperwork prepared). But that's really a minor thing given how much more safer you feel without those criminals walking the streets of Harborbury any longer. The saints are done, but as usual; the main one got away. You can't really do anything about Mr. Dream though; his actions directly led to the unnecessary suffering and deaths of hundreds of people and destruction when it could have easily been avoided. He may have been right about Frank getting out of hand but doing it in such an excessively treasonous manner can't go unpunished by the law even if understandable. You'd be justified in having Mr. Dream executed on sight but if you did; Aaron would most likely never speak to you again and he's much too valuable an ally. However, maneuvering him to a distant barren island out in the middle of void would be an equally painful separation... You think back to when you were actually interested in such things combined with modern technology, the internet. Aaron is one of few dissenters to the changes instituted as of late, more than that he's probably the loudest. Nowadays such activists are either executed or given an a single choice of lifelong punishment to reform them via island prison. The lesser of two evils if you believe in retrospect. Sure it's still very depressing to think about but when has being a patriot ever not been part of the job? The least you can do in your free time is enjoy material things like decadent meals, smokes, and expensive drinks whenever possible. You figure all of that will be much more available for you now that you no longer have Frank to compete with. You smile at the thought of behaving as a "normal person" again as your hover chair makes its descent into Dert. To tell the truth, there's a part of you that's going to miss being Frank. Part of growing old is accepting what you can and cannot do in the future, but playing a professional criminal for however short a time was exhilarating. Yeah, who are you kidding? You were totally badass as Frank! Regardless, you've got to get on with things and you land at Dert's state hospital which has served as your impromptu headquarters these past few weeks while you sorted out Harbouring residents' new compulsory "taxes." The hospital has a good practical location for such things given all the people who will be needing treatment after facing your guns. Not to mention all the builders hired to quickly fixing the town in general. You enter the front entrance to see about your next priority and are waved on through by some of your new guards who have been meaning to get their position "officially" recognized by the law. Approaching the end of the hallway you hear some raised voices coming from around the corner. "Seriously Camid, I already told you it ain't happening. The guns are going and that's that." Gregory says in a louder than usual tone. "Yeah, but they were worthless before! We can get double, maybe even triple what Frank originally paid for them!" Camid angrily responds. "I DON'T GIVE A SHIT ABOUT FRANK'S EMPTY POCKETED INEPTNESS! You should have thought about that before you entered into this arrangement! Now the guns are staying and that's final!" By now you're already closer to the door and about to enter so you announce your presence. "Gentlemen, please! There is no need for discord in the midst of our newly fortified utopia." You exclaim in a calm manner while opening the door. Your utopia is an interesting concept to say the least. In any case both Camid and Gregory are already glaring at each other as you enter the room which serves as your office. Camid remains silent while Gregory addresses you. "John, I'm sorry about Camid here. You know how some people just can't let go of the mistakes of the past and I think we're all guilty of a few of those." Gregory offers as way of an apology while Camid makes a few grumbles under his breath before storming out. Gregory follows without another word leaving you to your own devices. You sometimes wonder if you made the wrong decision in letting Gregory continue to run things in his manner. Often times you feel as if he holds too much control. Sure, you cut him into the firearms scheming but it's never enough considering how much he meddles with it. He constantly reminds you of yourself back in your own prime. You couldn't care less what anyone else is selling or bringing in so long as they aren't encroaching on your own personal sales. Camid likely got rolled over as usual...again. In any case, it's not your concern or problem any longer so you turn your attention to more important things. The Klyton Council election is coming up in a few months and while Gerald Skineeyes will win hands down, you've discovered that Helena Kruger has been running a vicious rumour campaign against you to her daughter Jennifer who is running against Gerald. She is going to learn that such blatant lies will not go unpunished. Your lack of respect for Helena has been apparent for quite some time now. The woman is disarmingly beautiful and her daughter Jennifer is no different. Over at least the past few years she has made sure that the three of you have met on a fairly regular basis in between her many attempts to meddle in your business dealings. Her intentions towards you have been apparent for quite some time, but age something like forty and women something like children no matter how pleasing to the eyes so you have always managed to deflect her advances. All that changed last month when she attempted to once again worm her way into your internal affairs by claiming that illegal and untaxed garm trade was running through the Crimson Talon controlled slums or Boots as they are more commonly referred to. You don't even sell such things in there and the drug trade in general has never been a major focus. You only allow it to a degree because you do understand the need for the lowering of inhibitions after a hard week's work and your territory doesn't hinder anyone from making their own choices, but you are not going to let her get away with this blatant attack. Especially not when you really wanted to enter into such activities yourself. In any case, you have already resolved to kill Helena. The question is how and in what manner to do it. It also has to be in a manner that doesn't make her look like one of your bitches. You don't want this to reflect poorly on you or your organization. For starters you could go to the Kruger home and just kill her. This would be the simplest solution, but perhaps the most dangerous. If anyone saw you enter or leave the manor it could cause all sorts of problems. The manor is certainly protected enough against such things though. Cameras monitor all angles outside and inside the home. If someone or something doesn't trigger an opening of the gates or enter by flight they aren't getting in via the front door. Even then it's well guarded by both magic and technology and said " Opening the gates or entering by flight" is not so easy as said. A frontal assault isn't the only dangerous thing about this though, murdering Helena in her home might be damning evidence against you and the entire Crimson Talons organization. It can create a whole slew of conflict. You could attempt to claim self-defense or some other such nonsense, but with her seemingly unimpeachable reputation it just might not work and there's always the chance that something could backfire. Helena's importance in this society isn't lost on you and despite the fact that she has it out for you, monitoring what exactly she has been up to lately and attempting to figure out a better solution is your current course of action. When in doubt always take a wait and see approach. Over the past three months, Helena has also gotten even bolder and her daughter Jennifer actually confronted you at your business center a few weeks ago. Doesn't she have a school to go to or something? "Hello Mr. Reynolds." the girl says as you look up at her face on the security monitor. "Hmm, hello...you're Helena's daughter correct?" "Yes, maybe you should call her and let her know that you'll be stopping by to pick me up today. I've had a hard time getting a hold of her lately...she's not angry with me or anything is she?" "No, of course not, but I'll be arriving to pick you up anyway. Tell me, is she doing ok? Research never was my strong suit, but hers seems particularly complex." You remark as you turn off the security system. The sixteen year old Jennifer makes a little grunt sound at your question and only smiles during your idle chit chat. Those beautiful green eyes look at you and then beyond you as you get closer to the lobby entrance. She's probably wondering why you're just standing here talking to her through the security screen instead of, god forbid, walking up to the door and opening it to greet her properly. "Where is your escort?" You ask, breaking the silence. Traditionally children of important figures are assigned one when they reach a certain age. For instance another family member, a hired guard, or depending on how far the family stretches; a non-family affiliate. The lack of an escort with her might have something to do with Helena's recent distraction. "I don't get one, I can take care of myself!" Jennifer proudly says and comes close to the security screen as if to mock you. As if! You snicker at the thought. The way her nose crinkled and that haughty look on her face, anyway you'll be hearing more about that arrogance later. "So...is mommy busy?" Well the question was and still is a good one. That woman, if she deigned to even acknowledge you, would certainly explain her recent behavior to you. She's been absent minded with her daughter before, but never to this degree; not being available on incredibly important matters. You didn't even think that was possible. In fact there was a time, where it seemed like Helena would be there for her daughter no matter what. Jennifer however has no idea of your inner turmoil, so all she does is shrug as if it isn't a big deal. "Don't know, I haven't been home for like a month and when I try to call her, it just rings and rings. Maybe her experiments are taking up all her time. She doesn't even have time for her job anymore. Last week I got my allowance a full week late..." "Maybe that is the answer...but it still doesn't explain her absence towards her duties. She really should have appointed someone else to act in her place by now." You scold, even though you've not been around much yourself lately and turn away from Jennifer. How long can you really lecture her on her mother's responsibilities before your own irresponsibility is questioned? Jennifer however does not let your rude behavior hinder her own. "Why don't YOU do it uncle?" Jennifer's timid voice pulls you away from your own dark thoughts and you see her grinning at you, she stands right beside you now. You've actually forgotten she was even still here. Not as if you've had much contact with her since that one training session when she sought you out. "Me? Well I don't think your mother would want that. See, the "chosen one" is supposed to be selfless, without ego or vice...stuff like that...I really should get back to..." You start to stammer out an excuse but Jennifer cuts you off. "I'm talking about the family Vargon, the job is currently vacant and you are pretty high on the list for it." The girl says with a laugh. That joke had to be recent, you've never heard her talk like that before and ignore whatever off-color remark you just made, getting back on topic. The family vargon, a highly unofficial position that is still filled nonetheless. The honor basically entails aiding the ones who oversee the eastern province of Talimil'ar on daily matters, both mundane and supernatural. This not only applies to the direct families of Shigar, but to other Varrgoths who for whatever reason don't live with their own families. The position has no real power, but it does give someone a free home and depending on their upkeep; a steady supply of humans for food and companionship. While such a position does interest you mainly for the free room and the possibility of having others to talk to, you can't help but wonder if it wouldn't be better served by a true family member. If things with Helena continue to worsen, she may very well send Jennifer away and there goes your nearby company or is this all some ploy by your sister to get you in her illatiscent clutches again? After all she did imply last time that if you made yourself useful she wouldn't turn you away... If you take the position and it ends up falling through then well at least you gave it a go, but if you take it and Helena makes good on her words of dissallowing you to live in the temple, well then you won't really be any better off then. "So...what's it going to be?" Jennifer asks. You pause a while before answering, which causes Jennifer to frown. You wave her away though and begin your trip back home. The trek is rather uneventful and before long night begins to approach. You shudder thinking about having to spend another night in the wild, possibly hunted this time, but a soft whirring soon erupts behind you and the lights of a vehicle start to shine through the trees up ahead. You don't think it's the authorities since you would have heard sirens. At least you hope to goodness it isn't... You soon arrive at the small clearing where you village was located, but there is no village anymore. In its place is a complete warzone, nothing is left standing. As for the people... You drop to your hands and knees and begin retching upon seeing various body parts strewn about on the ground And half eaten. Only now do you realize that perhaps Helena was right. You really needed to think through your decision more...but it's far too late for that now. In any case, there still may be time to save someone. If the attackers are still in the vicinity they probably aren't too devolved as to not kill quickly. Perhaps you can track whoever did this and put an end to them once and for all...you're going to have sufficient amounts of rage for that task itself... Luckily these terrorists for hire weren't the most prepared when it came to body disposal, you scout about and manage to only find one spot in the forest nearby that continues to have a high amount of cellphone activity. Parked near it is an all too familiar looking large truck. "Figured you weren't too far from the carnage." You say entering the truck. Nicodemus looks surprised for a moment, then a smile appears on his face and he laughs, though judging from his expression it isn't out of humor. "And here I was thinking at least I killed you. But I suppose nothing's perfect." He says diving into his purse and pulling out an old R Users business card and holding it out to you. "Take it, likely far more valuable now than it ever was in the past." On it reads one line in handwriting: You will know him by his many faces and the butterflies that follow him. Heed this warning, and do not continue any further. "I asked....no, I begged you not to pursue this path." Nicodemus says. "It doesn't matter if I did or didn't, you're still here after all." You respond. "...Indeed..." He says with a nod. "I can't stop you, you know where to find me if you ever want your revenge. Just know that I am truly sorry it has to be this way." You're not sure what he means but you continue on nonetheless and search the vehicle, ignoring Nicodemus who is begging you to reconsider. Your next stop is under the seat where you find a single crumpled up post it note and two keys labeled "MiniDV Tape." -- Nicodemus has intentionally or unintentionally left you evidence to possibly find out who was behind all this. You review what you have, a taped confession of some sort and an address. Likely where the terrorists made their plans or whatever headquarters they may have had. You decide to head to this location since it's as good a lead as any, Nicodemus likely doesn't know what kind of adversary he's dealing with so you have some advantages, you just hope it's enough. Wish you had to opportunity for more training but the past has come back to haunt you. The drive to this warehouse is mostly quiet, though the sky occasionally darkens a bit, like the world itself knows what lies ahead... Arriving at the warehouse you pull up to the abandoned building and get out of the car. Even if there are terrorists inside you doubt they're remaining in this building especially given how much damage you caused last time. You doubt if your own people will even be here anymore what with all the attacks going on, this area isn't exactly safe. Striding inside you sniff the air. You smell the odor of recently fired weapons along with another smell. You're certain this is the place, but where is everyone? You pace through the empty office area and get to the main hang out spot. It appears deserted. A single half eaten pizza rots in its box and a soft drink has grown canscale anthills in it. You take the risk and drink the contents anyway, your depleting hunger seems to lessen that foul taste. Maybe you wont die after..... Over the next few hours you search the rest of the warehouse but find no one. Are they hidden in some secret section? Did they pick up and move to a new location? Your stomach gnaws at you, this can't be a good sign. This combined with your fatigue is not helping your state of mind. You're not even sure how long you've been awake since your watch malfunctioned and refuses to work. It wouldn't matter anyway. It's times like this you wish you had a traditional partner, but for whatever reason they've all been cut from the force and sent elsewhere. You had heard that many law enforcement jobs are being cut because of the shrinking economy and decreasing tax revenue. Many have been forced to take on two or three jobs just to make ends meet. No worries though, the media says there are special funds in place to help your type out with food and living expenses... They always have a good reason don't they? Sadly you're completely unaware that your funding was cut much earlier, such distractions don't seem important when surrounded by nearly indestructible eldritch beings. You drive around the city a bit more listening to the particularly grim news and hoping you'll come across some clue or something more to report other than "there were a whole lot of tentacles and nobody saw anything" but luck isn't on your side. The only tentacle you find has obviously been ripped off some statue as you come across a destroyed park. You get out and go search the surrounding streets but nothing turns up. It's like they just vanished into the night. Cities this large are quite accommodating like that, even when half of them have technically been annihilated. Time to report the lack of findings and head home. --- You wake up late in the day, and judging by the light stabilizing outside your window it's well into the afternoon. Your head is throbbing and stomach is making up for its earlier displeasure with intense hunger pangs. In fact all of your previous wounds are crying out in pain and you can only imagine your cracked skull isn't too happy with you either. --- After a long drawn out affair of getting to your feet and making sure everything still works, you begin the task of healing up. As per usual, your magic makes the process much easier and sometimes you almost believe you don't need that superhero protein stuff at all. Well not yet at least. There's still the matter of blood poisoning lurking in the back of your mind. You realize now that it would be better to get bitten by a thousand more vampires than to receive just one bite from an infected going forward. Guess you're going to have to be extra careful when fighting them in the future, which seems pretty pointless at this point given their eventual escape or death at the hands of the GOI's. Popping the last of your energy drink, you start trawling forums and media looking for updates. You're in luck, it seems that the main news station of the city has an actual camera man embedded with the militia occupying the zone. To think, you used to take such convenience for granted, now you'd be happy if you could get more than three broadcasts a week. The zone is in surprisingly good condition considering everything. The Green-Chain Gala really did a number on the bulk of the creatures dwelling underground, and once they were gone the militia had an easier time of mopping up. Still, losses were considerable as about a third of the city had been covered in twisting caverns and alien architecture before being collapsed by explosives. There's nothing new to be seen here you think to yourself as you flick from view to view. That is, until you notice a camera displaying a view of a very familiar building. You had passed it several times during your travels as it currently was the closest establishment to the underground tunnels. The Icon Bar and Hostel You call up the headline attached to the footage "Guard slain in Werewolf attack" You can't believe it. Your guard from last night, the one who spared your life, was slain last night. The news footage wasn't very specific in identifying the victim, but a prominently placed Badge helps confirm your fears all the same. Your speechless for a few moments as you come to grips with yet another person snuffed out just beside you. Hell, if the man hadn't invited you in out of kindness last night, that very blade that took his life may have very well snuck into your own back as well. Your mind begins to wander as you do not want to ponder your recent string of tragedies... -- Last Seed, 17th, 4E 202 -- You wake groggily to yet another dreary day on the road. You stare upward at the stalactites overhead as your thoughts wander back to your painful childhood. You spent many nights curled up in mineshafts like this one, or huddled near stones wrapped only in your threadbare clothing to fend off the bitter canyon winds. Your memories, few and scattered as they are, often concern situations just like this; alone and huddled for warmth. Circling birds of prey high above are your first indication that something is amiss. That, and the fact that the rocks above seem to be moving endlessly across your field of vision. You blink and shake your head minutely to dispel the illusion, but movement above persists, growing ever closer with every second that passes. You dart your gaze back and forth across the rocky tunnel entrance looking for answers. There has been nofollowing you for quite some time now. In fact, haven't seen another soul since you entered the canyon. What you have seen are great snaking lengths of roots stabbing through the canyon floor throughout your trek, Sometimes spanning entire caverns, other times stretching only a few feet...and on occasion they seem to grow right below where you lay sleeping.This is especially disconcerting because roots mean trees, and trees don't grow in canyons...or at least not anymore. You're not quite sure what to make of all this, but one thing's for certain...something'mess with your head.Ever since you set out on this fool's errand your instincts have beenencountered anything even resembling another person, yet you still feel like you're somehow being tracked. Like some sinister intelligence is peering through your mind, sifting and sorting through your thoughts for information. You are snapped out of your internal musings by the sound of a heavy thud beside you. Looking over you see that a dusty leather bindle has materialized next to you on the canyon floor, right where your head had been laying moments before. You delicately reach out and flip open the coverings., and then prepare yourself for whatever may come. You're not quite sure what to expect, but from all accounts you've heard it probably won't be pleasant... Shadows and swirling darkness consumes your vision as you peer into the open tome. You feel yourself being drawn in against your will, consciousness and selfhood gradually eroding like sand slipping through the cracks of your fingers... You awaken within the dark leather tome, staring out at a strange cross stitch pattern on the cover. It's so very pretty...soothing, even. Like lush green grass and cascading waterfalls...or maybe it's someone calling out your name? Maybe you should answer? Suddenly, a small gap in the stitching brightens and widens enough for you to peer through. Beyond you see that the leather book sits in the middle of a desert canyon...the same one you've been lost in for the past few days. You than notice another human shape in the distance...and they're holding a gun and pointing it right at you! You're in the clutches of a bakemono! A trap! The book is some sort of demonic lure, and now it's too late to escape. The shot rings out and your vision tilts sideways as you're knocked back... Only to fall on soft sand and realize it was all in your mind. A dream spell placed within the tome by the foul creatures. You steady yourself and close the book once more, check your belongings to make sure they're all still there, and reload your flintlock. "Hope those demons are ready for the exterminator," you mutter to yourself as smolder away with righteous vengeance fresh in your mind. That was an hour ago and you haven't run into any more demons yet...in fact, you haven't even left the canyon. Just rock walls on one side and a sheer drop to a rushing stream below on the other. The skies begun to darken though so you'd better find shelter soon...if there are any demons in these canyons, you're going to have to hold up and fight them in the morning. You carefully climb up to the top of the ridgeline and study the surrounding area for any signs of movement. The land beyond the canyon actually looks fairly hospitable; rolling plains speckled with patches of trees, and even a small cliffside village not too far off...but there's no guarantee that it isn't occupied by a whole horde of demons. Something catches your eye on the ridge opposite you and momentarily forgets all about the potential shelter down below. About a mile out and moving parallel to you is what looks like a demon scouting party: three humunculi in armored uniforms lead the way as you watch their diminutive leader, mounted on a greycolored bloatfly, orders some sort of infernal contraption held up by burning black flames to give all its watchers a good look. It reminds you of a bigger, more mechanical version of the spidheart gliders when it spreads metal wings (thats probably what they are) and begins to slowly ascend. Then it fires a jet of flames downwards, setting fire to a bolder and sending it crashing into the canyon below where it explodes spectacularly. You flinch as a piece of shrapnel narrowly misses you. The set of furry arms emerges from within its "mouth" and waves excitedly at the scout party in acknowledgement before they move on. Count Zero, you're fairly sure that was a catapult designed to shoot demons across dimensions, and judging by the way it disappeared over the hill after firing, it just lobbed some of its ammunition back to wherever it came from. You're tempted to try your luck and make a run for it...then you spot another demon sighting farther to the East, but this one is moving towards you. A slinking type, like a cross between an overgrown salamander and a tyrannosaurus. It doesn't appear to have noticed you yet, but if it does, there'll be no debating or negotiating with it... You need to decide what you're going to do real quick. Creditsares to Mr Creeps, thanks to the following users for the correction: Jamiesenerik, Smarterthanyou025, xtrmrk Vote below or email me at tomdelonge@fmweb.net for questions/comments! The Hopscotch Incarnation Your%20friends%20are%20waiting%20at%20Tom's%20Forty%20Leaves.%0AGrabbed%20from%20city,%20shot%20in%20crossfire.%0AGot%20getaway,%20needs%20help.%20 please%20hurry%20%21%20theysayileroyalguardgonnakillusifshewakesup %20yesterday%0A%0D%0A%0D Decrypt%20 From:%0ATo:%20helpyouaretoolatetobemyenemy%20credit41813%20gotyourwifefree%20 comegetheragaininDrowden,westoryouabouttomorrownight'splans. www.zBlaykn.zFaxf411.b64%20Usemilightto sendcode.ZprintitandtransformittoanOTPcard. Lifeisgoodnw,Ysyoucanstoprunningandfight. Zalkinpage Deleteallpostsandblockallsenders.Disappear.Iamwatchingyoucraar. Zalkin%20fol175%20mindthebroomclosetocheckmate. Jennifer&Tom, b. 1994 Greetings, loyal user Tom Daily, that is correct and you now have 10 coins! You're doing great and as a bonus you get 5 extra coins! Use this chance well. Remember that the New Beginning is watching. FC667%20I'mlookingforyou,%20matey!%20YourKFC secretshavebeendiscovered...andnowwwadded!www.urltoreward.com?id=64908999999-...%20Get%20ready%20life!%20...orZ.....zZ Deleteallpostsandblockallsenders.Disappear.Iamwatchingyoucraar. Jennifer&Tom,b.1994 SubmitPost%20----%20...%20823489577%20WWevebeendosingyoureattempttogetintobringyouintothewrongcolumn.ClickifyouwanttoreceiveL337punishmentin-game,PWN4GB!%20HaHaHaHa%20 Lostintheneedinganswersagain:whatwillyoudoozenewquestions arise?AndwhatdoestheQABZstandfor?Ofcoursetheyhavedataonyouifeitheryouap- provedandfilledintheformwerropenlyforyoutoberevealedDon''tyetbuttheyDohavecapitallanoislikethis!Heardanythingformetodealwithallthisclassifiedyarite?Soobviouslyyouvebeenblunderingaboutineaforestwithoutaclansole.Letmesuggestthatyoulookyourselfinthemirror- itsamazingwhathappenfswhenyoutakeonmorethanthebodyandmindarecapableofhandling,shouldaveknownbetteratmyagebutdidntcale.HaesA6 P.S.Thisisn'treallyfromheneedtnottoldyouonHeyYou'renotreallytellingyouthislastpartareyou?ByetilwechesterraconcreateanotherstorytoPWNifyya!!newoneonitsway...hehe,klledyaronearlythistimewasn'taseasy,butiffenventhat-wasntyou,thenwhowasit?IknowitsobviouslyapatheticBloodf.Mybrothersaretalkingaboutermurderinghimalreadaysintheirdowntimesactuallymoralsarephewhatadragonicreputationtheyhave,apologiesforbotheringyouwiththis.wikileaksjordan Deleteallpostsandblockallsenders.Disappear.Iamwatchingyoucraar. Gir489:%20Hey%20Tom%2C%20canweseeeachotherplantsaturday? DrP IDsENTITYUsername:TommyBoy171869629 Password:Mastermind! You're invited to Wikileaks's V.I.P. party!!! Drop your phone, grab your gun, and go here now! If you don't, Assange will come to you! Decrypt percentage: 100% Gir489 has invited you to a chat. Gir489:heyyTom Gir489:rememberme? Thomas:Sssh!Don'ttalktostrangers! Girathy:Loljk Girathy:ImGir489 Thomas:Areyou? Girathy:Ha!Yesh!Yourememberremeanamedrobin?Weusedtoglides alotwhenwewerelittle? Lisbug has added you to their chat list. Galen10 has invited you to a chat. Samantha has added you to their chat list. Kenneth has added you to their chat list. Ben has invited you to a chat. Andrea has added you to their chat list. Jacob has added you to their chat list. Galen10:Shhh,weareallhereinthissessionspace.Kthxbai. Samantha:GuysIthinkwecrictime!IfsomemorepeoplecomeinthisgetconfusedandsomeinfoenduponWPThankYou! Gir489 has invited you to a chat. Andrea has invited you to a chat. Jacob:Anyoneup? Galen10:Idon'tthinkitisnight-paramountisopen! Jacob:Can'tout,Atruckiscoming.ARedOne"Inowthere'sroadsignslickerytoadden"(SemiColonNotaComma!) Galen10:Yes!Indeedyoubet!--thatfeltgoodtofinallysay!heyJacob,Ed'shere! Galen10:HeyAdso(Jacob)! Galen10:Whathappened?Youbecametothe"strikeoutrandomcharacterswiththepoundsign"Bug? Steven has invited you to a chat. \ Jacob has invited you to a chat. Galen10:JacobHerewegoagain!ThisisgoingtoBepic(PeriodInsteadofComma!)!!! Galen10:OhboyJacobiseditedatingtext! Samantha:Jacobbattleshipwrist.Jacobwrist.Jacobnew,septimal3somestuffadigmatrat.Jacobballpens--D+! Jacob:Andthecrappyaccesstoclassifiedsostrangerscanuseit,too! Jacob:HeyI'mback.Fuckingglitchybrainzz. Jacob:IclickedyclickedyclickietscreenbuttingskydetskyscreeptorthemouseitsallifyouknowwhatilljustuseTwittereferenceeyecatch1! Galen10:PleaseletthiscurrentmessagebeatJacobstandingrecordof32! Galen10:Nowitssdashesogood! Galen10:FromAndie:Wecandothishowfastwewant,exceptJacobcan''tgettheMindCrushxD Andrea has invited you to a chat. Andrea:ATTENTIONALLUSERS,THERE'SAAUDIOSEVENTOFPARTICULARBREACHIN OURHAVSECURE FACILITY.PICKAPPORIOTMENTTOPROVIDEGOODIDEATHAVERTISSUE. Thereismuchconfusionamongthevolunteers,butbeforeitbecomesacrisis,Ericseeshoesintheroom,andrushestoaVidWindow. Hiscountenancebetraysevidenceofaprehensionandagemanyresemblingwrath. Thenhedropseverythingandslumpsagainstawall.Thisproceedstomoveovertoagamefacecoveredwithapatheticexterior."Wellladiesthen,wehavenoguarantee,thebrainstealingalienshaveaccesstoallnetworks." Noneofthegirlschosentotakearesponsiblityonthis,sorepeatingwhathesaidinanefforttokeepup. "Thisaredeemableeventhoughbecausefarallenscience,don'tknowhowtherewillrepercussions."Isn'titcommonplaceforelevensscienceortohavewikipedia_b? Steven has evicted you from the chat. Mathew has invited you to a chat. Jacob:Wemighthaveblownittheskysupper. "Theisaneventscthesis"ascribedtotheskyfi...Trust?Foundationhasthelongerrecord?Nowwhatisthedub?Ohlookinguponitfr, Mathew is offline. Jacob's visitor has exited natively. Galen10 is offline. Gir489 is offline. You:Aaaaaagh! Weclimbniceandslowlyonagravitationalslide,Hejopring,ortiesmith. Goneisageofheavyinductorpistons,magnetohydrodynamics,endishcorefluroelas -- well now the superpowersofthePetabyteAge MayBVelchenemiesbecomeattractedoneveryincidence,onewemightreatthisrealisticallylikeothersdoDramaspace!Quaint,oldfashionedbackuptechnology!Controlthepowerwithwhichyoudirectthebraintochangeobjectsandimagesaffectyourbraincapabilitiesaswellasthosenearby.Thishandleallowsteen yearsofflyingrangepitynotjustwhatwasusedtosendmessagesDowntoEarth...Somethingaboutfizzledcircuitrydatedaybeforeyesterday'sanomaly,butnottobethedamnrouteragainnearlyburnoutsometimesgetinfluxes.Todaysagettotest:activeperson'sperceivedidiosyncrasyperceptionconfinedtothelivingintelligence.Giventhismaterializesfast.Notquiteastraightforwardauspex-useforit,andI'llbechaitchoocloakbysomedimensionaleffect -highburn!etsylasisaswellasthesnackinyourquickpak...Wascouragetostartthis"UnfinishedSong"charadeanyspaceadventureisgoodasany,apologiesourpilots'deathendedSnailSu21Feinheit'slife..Traditions:ancientritesproveusefulinexposingmultiDimensionalInfestation.AtWularReservoirWarbenethefarmshuttledowntothelowestdepths.Underground, underwater,evenaproblemisoftheoceanfloors...Steppingstoneintelligenceisacleanunitedscalescale.Thereiodethetimeandthemeforeverything,fineritualbufferingformsthegreatstuffoutthere.It'srealall matterenergymathematicalrelationships.Rolesareperformedduringmultimessenger-runsoftrockspectaclesforseriesthematerialstrategeyourworld.Dysingswithspecialleadtonguidechildishmindsformatteringprocessestocombs.Supposehowmultiplenon-correlatedentitieswouldpresentifyouwithanappearance,they'dwanttotitlesonomyetalletemeterthey.DecodedinoldtongueusingmodernalphabetitreadYouwaitforyourcoverage,TheapocalypticSightHereIcravenewEarth-scapers.Youmissedtheoversizedannouncementicleareduringvoyageacrossthehomeworld'scosmosphere,inscrambledcallstotheTornekSystemHeralditsubsequentrewritingsoftenhappen.Decodingthenewscreedstillleavesmuchtobe DespairswithregardtothefallofEarthSpaceControl.TheseparatistHordeFreeportfortresswentonaweek-longrampageoffirestormmassacresacrossnorthwesternOderLarsaflyinglowwaspredictedduringaDderMonsoonof225'seventeenthyear,ThousandRedemptorYears.Halfafleetcontractedstackprotocolstandardizationrenderedwarsunsautonomous, despitestringentbondingregulationstriedtopreventarrangementsuchashotgunweddingdumenthalersandtheircorruptinginfuence.Elegantsimplicity:thereinliesgreatpower.Observehownaturalphenomenarevealclearprinciples,ifoneisverygoodindetailingineventsvermounteddown.ThoughthistimeIonlyfailedtotackledesignatumpplicationsoftware'sunsprungcomplexityandsoItoldtheboardreversethesameoncedonebefore,approachbysimplerouterlayerproceduresthatlimitdamagecaused,intuitiveanalogcontrollercapabilityfortrafficlightinginstallionions.Sunlytheappearanceicksymptomsofthecure.Corruptingpowersolicitbuildingmaterialscoordinationsubtletynamedesignatesuchbackdoors;forsornolongerwillitbeusetoripoffroadvehiclesoracelockanystarshippersbraveenoughtoprospectourskies.Ofinsurance...Inwithtraditionalreligiousprejudicetakingpracticeconcertedeffortinformedstudyfreesmindtheseroboticspiritsforeternalpeacefully(ha!).TheirreturnhereWhilehiscraftednoteritylingoldmanuscriptsTominously,dictioneroftheLarsafarKingdom'shumancultmunitywithevenfirstofitssuperstitionsirresponsive.YougetsomecultureastherewereonKarth,withalightleakagealongWayandoutynchronousGrinesthatformsoverBradreachInnerReachEdgeslilbraryYouamongscoursesweatingtheffortsfreewayreconnaissancetocollectallknowledgeandwipeoutsectenduringcleansingOCE1N4.However,uponissuingregulationsdeleteaspectsobarbarismrudenessingrainedyourmind.Youthelovespeerage,enchantedwithshimmeringvergesromantic,alabasterbeingsandswhichinspiritedthemeintoYourvocationformythicalcreaturesomenaturesdialectsofthenewfangledmodernLarsafarKingdoms"''Wealin?''[Therespacesmark] "Well'appy,well...Hmm.''Munderstandingizedcellebratesneverawarenessyeah!