#LETS SEE WHAT ELSE THEY HAVE BY APPLEGATE HERE

[shadsasaur]

losing my mind at this panel of ax being held up for a photo like i make my cats dance [and looking just as thrilled about it]

[overthinkingfandom]

Is there a general description of the Strategist!Dream take? Any key traits that is a core part of the interpretation (other than strategy and ends-justify-the-means mindset)?

This ask has been surprisingly hard for me to answer, anon. There’s a lot to c!Dream’s character and consequently there’s a lot to the strategist interpretation that isn’t immediately obvious. At their core the strategist and trauma interpretation disagree on a few very fundamental traits for the character: how he processes the world, how he approaches things, how he reacts. Since those traits are so fundamental, they have a lot of implications that have a kind of cascade effect on the rest of his personality.

Honestly, the difference between the two interpretations is fascinating and I may just make a full post on that topic in the future. But the reason I bring this up here is to explain that I, uh… may or may not have written a full character analysis essay about the way I see c!Dream through the lens of the strategist interpretation.

Oops.

But first to answer your question, here are what I consider the core traits for the strategist interpretation in no particular order:

Logic based thought and decision-making process

A strong sense of who he is and what he stands for

Decisive

Self aware

Judges actions by how effective they are

Overblown sense of responsibility

Will do anything and everything to achieve his goal

Practical mindset

The actual essay is under the cut.

People don’t understand the word ruthless. They think it means ‘mean.’ It’s not about being mean. It’s about seeing the bright, clear line that leads from A to B. The line that goes from motive to means. Beginning to end. It’s about seeing that bright, clear line and not caring about anything but the beautiful fact that you can see the solution. Not caring about anything else but the perfection of it.

~Katherine Applegate

If I had to sum up Strategist Dream with a few words, I would call him a ruthless rational player.

Mind you, that’s “rational player” in the game theory definition of the term. Someone who is capable of thinking through their options to the outcomes and picking the option which maximizes their benefit, whatever that might be. The way Dream interacts with the world is inherently logic based. His emotions more than anything affect his goals and priority setting.

It’s hard to convey just how much logic and specifically strategy influences his actions without going into his every action and analyzing it properly. He’s a strategist not only in the sense that he makes plans and acts according to them, but also in the sense that he’s very aware of power dynamics and talented at reading situations, something which lets him figure out the optimal way to act in more mundane ways as well. I’ve written a bit about how it affects his relationship with Techno or how it influenced the way he dealt with L’manburg’s declaration of independence, to give some examples, but you can even see it in the way he conducts negotiations, presents ultimatums or builds his reputation. Stuff that goes back even as far back as the original Disc War.

That awareness isn’t limited to his strategic understanding of situations either. In fact I would argue that clarity is just as central a trait to his character as strategy is. Clarity of self, clarity of priorities, clarity of purpose and clarity of means.

Dream has a strong sense of identity, one that can’t be shaken easily by outside influence. People can call him a “monster” or a “tyrant” and Dream would just shrug and let them think whatever they want to think. This also includes a clear sense of what he prioritizes and values or conversely, what he also values less. He values peace. He values effectiveness. He values Spirit, but does he value it more or less than he values his plan and his freedom? Less. As much as it hurts him, he values it less and so the optimal course of action is to sacrifice the thing he cares less about in order to preserve the things he cares more about if he can’t save them both.

Dream knows who he is and what he stands for, and his conviction about those things is so strong I doubt anyone but himself could shake it. Not that he would be quick to doubt himself. The dude is very self aware both about himself and his actions.

Most actions he takes are done purposefully, with a specific reason in mind and after having come to the decision that they’re the optimal way to act in this situation. As said before, Dream values effectiveness and so if he considers an action to be effective, he’ll consider it a good one to take, even if it causes harm.

He won’t regret it later on either, even when confronted with the harm he did. What is there to regret when he knew the consequences beforehand and deemed them acceptable? When the action he took did exactly what he wanted it to? And if the reason it didn’t work is because of something he had no way of anticipating or preparing for, then there’s nothing to regret there either. He made the best decision he could with the information he had at the time and there was no way short of omniscience or clairvoyance to have made a better choice.

The only time it’s worth regretting is when he made a mistake in his judgement. Or worse yet, didn���t think at all. When he’s just reacting and lashing out instead of stopping to think about his actions.

(It’s also worth regretting over actions that were ultimately useless, especially if they caused harm, because then that harm wouldn’t have been effective. It would’ve been for no reason, no more than simple cruelty. Despite everything, Dream isn’t cruel. He doesn’t enjoy inflicting harm. Some fun trolling, sure, but not serious harm. In fact, when there isn’t an incentive one way or the other, Dream seems to lean towards being generous and accommodating.

But his conviction wouldn’t let him give up so easily. Call it being stubborn or sunk cost fallacy or whatever. Giving up on his goal would make everything he did worse than useless. Therefore, he can’t allow himself to give up unless the benefits of stopping outweigh the costs of everything he did to reach this point.)

In general, he’s rather amoral, in the sense that he doesn’t think much about morality. “Evil is in the eye of the beholder”, so there’s not much use to bring questions of good and evil into his considerations when the answer will be subjective and won’t help him much in achieving his goal. The dude is much more concerned with practicality when deciding an acceptable course of action. In fact, it can be said he’s practical to a fault and even utilitarian in places.

Despite all that, Dream does have a code of conduct he adheres to, and rather strongly at that. He has a strong sense of fairness and by default would deal in good faith, only switching to dealing in bad faith as a response to the other side trying to do so. In that sense he can even be called overly forgiving as he would continue to offer good faith deals even after the other side has dealt in bad faith multiple times.

However, his overall leniency doesn’t stop him from calling out specific breaches of contracts. He’s very strict about agreements, formal or informal, and has a massive stick up his ass about them. He’ll respect them even if he disagrees with the people who made them or if there’ll be no consequences for breaking them, and when he does go against the spirit of the agreement he’ll do so via a loophole rather than outright break it.

This is actually an example of how strategy influences his overall behavior. Dream is very specifically establishing for himself a reputation as someone who keeps his word. When he offers a deal, people consider it as a valid option because they know he won’t scam them or offer empty words, opening the door to cooperation which otherwise wouldn’t come about. Not only with people who are on his side, but people he’s in conflict with as well. Something which is very important considering that generally cooperative strategies result in better outcomes.

And it doesn’t end there either, because Dream does it not only to his promises but to his threats as well. More than once he followed through on a threat that was so dramatic it seemed like hyperbole, something one says at the heat of the moment but doesn’t actually do once they calmed down. This is not the case with Dream. If he says he’ll do something you can damn well bet he’ll follow through on it. Which, ironically enough, means he doesn’t have to do it all that often.

His threats have weight because the people who hear them know they're real. His words alone serve as an effective deterrent against his enemies. And boy does he know how to take advantage of that for all it’s worth.

Dream has a habit of providing drastic ultimatums, escalating situations from 0 to 11 at the blink of an eye. At first glance it may seem like he’s overreacting for one reason or another, perpetuating the conflict because he’s a control freak or can’t stand losing or whatever, but this is actually a tactic for quick conflict resolution. Upping the stakes so much all at once to make the enemy think it’s not worth it rather than risk a slow escalation that can reach the same heights but would be more invisible because of the gradual nature of it. His reputation for following through on his promises only makes his ultimatums more effective by making his threats hard to dismiss.

Needless to say, it’s a rather extreme strategy but Dream is a man of extremes which can sometimes make him come across as volatile. He would go to any length in order to achieve his goal, but the flipside is that if he doesn’t think there’s a good chance he can win he would rather not fight at all and focus on minimizing his losses. He would be patient and lenient when dealing in good faith, but swift and absolute when against his adversaries. If he considers someone his friend he would give them the world, but if he considers someone his enemy he couldn’t care less for what kind of harm would befall them.

And there’s that clarity again, because Dream is someone who has sharp distinctions between friend or foe and pretty consistent ways to treat each. Even with those he considers neutral parties, who don’t fall into either category, he’s pretty consistent with his reactive approach of mirroring the attitude he’s faced with.

Interestingly enough, when dealing with neutral parties he generally starts out with a positive attitude towards them. Something which I’d argue is both because he defaults for dealing in good faith and because he has an overblown sense of responsibility.

This sense of responsibility, specifically his sense of responsibility over the server, is at the core of many of his actions. He wants the server to be at peace, for people to be a big happy family, and he takes it upon himself to make it come true.

This is also where his controlling tendencies come from. It’s often assumed that they stem from some sort of insecurity or an inability to bear vulnerability, giving Dream a compulsive need to feel in control at all times, but I feel it’s more accurate to say they come partly because he feels responsibility over fixing them and his first solution to anything is to do it himself.

He doesn’t necessarily want everything to go his specific way, it’s more that he wants things to not be stupid or harmful to himself and his interests. If someone else comes up with something Dream deems acceptable by his standards he would have no problem going with that. However, his standards are high and rarely met so most of the time he just insists on his own way. It’s also not helped by how he considers himself the most capable person around.

And he’s not exactly wrong. The man has a fairly realistic assessment of his skills and a good grasp on his limits. This is actually a big part of what makes him so dangerous. The awareness of knowing exactly what you can or can’t do, both on a skill level and as an assessment of a situation, is an integral aspect of winning in a power struggle.

It’s this understanding which makes Dream often use himself as a tool. After all, his own self is something he can be certain would be under his control, making it an invaluable weapon which can’t be stripped away from him no matter what. A weapon he learned how to hone and maximize the effectiveness of, both in a physical battle, but more importantly as a manipulation tool.

Dream’s manipulation style is distinct from the likes of Wilbur or Quackity, who use more classical manipulation techniques. In fact, with him it’s more akin to information warfare than anything. He rarely tries to change another’s mind in order to get his way. His preferred method is to abuse people’s existing beliefs and inclination by constructing scenarios in which people, just by being themselves, give him the outcome he wants.

He’ll often project some persona with his behavior and words in order to give a specific impression to shape his enemy’s assumptions about him and the situation. Assumptions which are skewed in ways which give Dream a critical information advantage. An advantage he uses to guarantee his victory.

By treating himself as a tool he also often ends up disregarding his feelings in order to achieve the goal. Dream is willing to put himself through a great deal of discomfort and pain if he thinks it’ll further his plans. When saying Dream’s mindset is that of means to an end, it’s important to remember he considers himself just as much of a mean as anything else, if not even more so.

However, he wouldn’t do so on a whim. While Dream is a risk taker, he isn’t eager to take stupid risks. If there’s a high chance he would lose or he knows he’s missing some important information, Dream would hesitate to follow through with such an action.

He’s very concerned with the success chance of his plans and goals in general. His practical mindset and tendency to go all in on whatever he’s doing results in almost all of his goals being specific, achievable and decisive. Which is another thing which makes him so scarily effective in his plans.

And that’s not limited to his plans either. By default he has a utilitarian approach to things, he’s inherently not a dramatic person. When left to his own devices he would often seek the most efficient way to do something, such as building a base. However, he has also shown he enjoys the dramatics of performing when he has an audience to watch him.

This can make him come across as someone who’s pretty open about his thoughts or intentions, but in truth he’s very reserved and keen on hiding the things which can be used against him. He keeps a lot of things close to his chest, from his emotions to his plans or intentions. Even with allies he doesn’t seem to share all the details openly, even when he otherwise places a great deal of trust on them.

Those two things, his seeming openness when performing and his reserved nature, can sometimes clash to a hilarious effect. Especially because Dream was shown to have some difficulty in improvising stuff on the spot.

Interestingly enough, he mostly shows that difficulty in social situations or when performing, an area he’s relatively weak in considering how socially awkward he can be. In areas he’s strong in, such as politics or strategy, he’s shown a great ability to adapt quickly to new information or opportunities. This is actually a good indicator of how skilled he is in this field that he manages to circumvent a weakness of his.

This is not the only way he circumvents his weakness either. Despite his social awkwardness he’s very good at deceit and intimidation. He makes up for his relative lack of charisma by using his understanding of topics such as psychological warfare and cognitive biases.

Of course, just because he’s very skilled doesn’t mean that he always succeeds or never gets cornered. Losing control over a situation seems to be something which affects him greatly. When such a thing happens, or he gets otherwise overwhelmed, Dream displays two kinds of responses.

His default response is to Fight. He gets angry, lashes out and comes down on the threat with a display of heavy handed aggression to display his dominance and attempt to wrench some control back. If there’s no clear threat around he can easily direct his focus to, he would lash inwards.

However, if such a response would put him in even more danger, Dream responds by Freezing instead. He gets quiet and less responsive, enduring whatever it is he has to suffer through until the threat has passed.

There’s more to say about him, from small stuff like how he takes things too seriously and is annoyed by people being wrong, to big stuff like in depth analysis of the playbook of tactics he continuously uses. Dream is a character I can write multiple literal essays about, all of which analyzing him from different lenses and touching on different topics. However this has already passed 2.5k words and that’s with me trying to be as concise as I can be, so it’s probably for the best I end here.

[iamvegorott]

Salt of the Sea Ch. 26

Swim

“Get the guns! There’s a swarm of them!” Mark called out to the crew. 

“Sirens?” Dark swallowed thickly while the others rushed around him. 

“Stay to the back and I’ll tell them you got one.” Wilford handed Dark one of the guns, tucking one for himself in the back of his pants. 

“Stay back here with me.” Dark grabbed Wilford’s arm. 

“I have to make sure they see me or they’ll question when I said you did.” Wilford watched everyone gather at one end of the ship. 

“Then I’ll do it myself.” 

“You’re not a killer, Darkling.” Wilford pressed a hand to Dark’s cheek. “And I don’t want you to be.” Wilford gave Dark a quick kiss before rushing off to join the crowd. 

Dark hated being left behind on his own, he felt weak, like he couldn’t do anything useful. He was just as strong as anyone else his age, why was he being treated like a little kid? He was no small child. 

“Let’s have you go to the front, shall we?” Mark’s voice made Dark flinch. “I want to be able to see you get one this time. I always seem to miss it.” Mark chuckled and pushed his way through his crew with Dark. “Hit one yet?” Mark asked Wilford. 

“Yea-Dark?” Wilford went to hold his arm but Mark yanked him away. 

“He’s going to help you finish a Siren off, where is it?” 

“Left.” Wilford barely said it, eyes on Dark to look for any sign of pain. 

“There it is. Alright, Dark, kill it.” 

“Kill them?”

“Kill it.” Mark grabbed Dark’s hand that was holding the gun and lifted it up, aiming it at the injured Siren. The other Sirens were too busy trying to avoid the other Hunters to realize what was happening. At this point, there were only three left alive and they were teasing the other two, mocking them with life. 

“I-” Dark’s hand started to shake, his stomach ached at the thought of killing the Siren. They were just trying to catch their breath, their chest bleeding from a hole that Wilford had caused. It should have been a quick, painless death, it was what Wilford always aimed for. He hated killing them as well but knew he had no choice to keep himself and Dark safe on this ship. 

“Fire the gun!” Mark shouted and Dark curled up, lowering the gun. “For fuck’s sake!” Mark cuffed Dark upside the head. “Shoot the damn thing or I’m throwing you in there!” 

“Hey!” Wilford stepped in and shoved Mark away. “He’s trying his best!” 

“You, brat!” Mark grabbed the front of Wilford’s shirt, his size being the only advantage. “I am sick and tired of you going against every order I make. I’m tired of you lying to everyone to protect him!” Mark used his head to gesture to Dark. 

“Wait! I can do it! I can!” Dark tried to pry Mark’s hands off of Wilford. “Let him go!” 

“Alright.” Mark grinned, took a step forward, and threw Wilford over the ship and to the Sirens. 

“Wil!” Dark cried out. 

“Guess you should have learned how to swim.” Mark chuckled. “Good luck saving him.” 

“No, no, no!” Dark rushed to grab one of the spare boards and he lept as well. He didn’t know how to swim, but he knew how to float. 

“Captain-”

“Leave them. I can get new and better apprentices.” Mark waved a hand and walked away. 

“Wil!” Dark screamed after landing on top of one of the Sirens, feeling something crack beneath his feet. Dark flailed as he tried to grab Wilford, seeing claw and bite marks on his body, thankfully no chunks were missing, but he was far from fine. “Wil, I got you! I got you!” Dark got his hand on Wilford but screamed in agony when the other Siren clawed his arm and the other, weakened one, got his back. “Get away!” Dark used the gun and shot the Siren on his arm in the head. The Siren immediately stopping and floating. The Siren behind Dark screeched and pulled him away from the board. Dark fired the gun again and dropped it when the Siren no longer had a hold on him, causing him to sink a bit. “No! No!” Dark coughed as the water got into his mouth. He latched to the dead Siren and gagged at the realization of using a corpse to keep him up but he got over it and awkwardly paddled his way to Wilford, catching him right before he went too far down into the water himself. “Wait! Wait!” Dark begged the ship as it started to sail away. They were leaving them. They wanted them to die. “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry Wil.” Dark sobbed as he clung to the Wilford. “Land...land…” Dark kicked his feet as he went for the shore he could see. It would take a while to get there, but it wasn’t impossible. “It’s okay...it’s going to...be okay…” Dark panted, the cold of the water slowly making his body numb. “I can...do this...I can…” Dark knew he was still crying, how he still had tears he wasn’t sure. “I...am...not...weak…” Dark let go of the Siren corpse when the water was finally low enough for him to walk. “I am….not...weak…” Dark dragged Wilford to the shore and collapsed himself. “I’m...not…” Dark started coughing again and soon vomited on the sand. “Weak…” 

“Oh, dear.” A voice said. “You poor boys.” 

“Help...him...please…” Dark gasped out. “Please...I love him…” Dark watched the woman walk over to them. 

“Don’t worry, I have you. I’ll save you.” The woman crouched down. “I’ll save you or my name isn’t Applegate.” 

“Thank you.” Dark fully fell over, just barely clinging to consciousness. He heard humming, a soft, calming hum that became singing. He couldn’t tell what words were being said or even if there were words but it was so soothing, so caring...no nice…

x~x~x

Dark slowly opened his eyes, the singing still there. The lulling security holding tight to his heat, keeping him calm, allowing him to take breaths without pain or struggle. Dark blinked so that his vision would clear and he was greeted with green. Anti was there. Anti was the one singing. 

“You’re okay!” Anti perked up when Dark moved a little. 

“Where…”

“Your bed. JJ’s resting as well and Wilford’s getting dried up. Everyone’s fine and so are you.” Anti smiled at that. 

“You were worried?” 

“Of course! I had to carry you myself since the others were too busy freaking.” Anti was on the bed, leaning over Dark and not noticing how close he was. “You weren’t out for long but after hearing about how much of a shit that Mark guy is, I was worried you weren’t coming back. I would have eaten him for you.” 

“Anti…”

“I mean, I just-I…” Anti stopped since he wasn’t sure what to say anymore. 

“You were protecting me?” Dark reached up and placed a hand on Anti's cheek.

“I guess you could say that.” Anti’s face went a soft shade of pink. 

“Anti?”

“Yeah?” 

“Can I kiss you?” 

--------------------------------------------------------

Tag List: (let me know if you want added)

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[rotationalsymmetry]

Whale Morphs Part 6: I may be a little bit ax-cited.

(time to dolphin morph, cassie has second thoughts, marco starts morphing rather than arguing with her.) Marco is the bravest person on the team.

Well, we have a water temperature, but it’s miles off shore so that doesn’t mean much. The ship is going to Singapore. Would Tobias have mentioned if it was going through the Panama Canal first? Eh, I’m going to go off of the assumption that they’re on the West Coast.

“There is just about nothing as helpless as a human being in the ocean.”

(about jumping off a container ship and morphing in the deep ocean) “Well, that was fun,” Marco said sardonically. “Let’s never, ever do it again.”

Are they ever going to whale morph? Like a big whale, like a humpback? That would be cool.

Grass. Grass. On a space ship. Yes.

don’t fricking break the airlock without knowing what you’re doing

oh my fucking god

Hmm. I think our lost Andalite is going to be very confused. They’re morphing, if he saw that. But they’re not Andalites. And Andalites don’t just give away morphing technology.

They really should have acquired a salt water fish morph before they set out. Or something else that doesn’t have a dolphin’s “how long you can stay underwater” limitations.

Humans don’t have nasty scorpion tails or impressive claws or teeth and we’re not that big and we don’t have swords strapped to our arms. But appearances can be deceiving. I wonder why Andalites have scorpion tails. Why any intelligent species capable of constructing weapons would evolutionarily speaking “decide” to have built-in weapons as well. Ah well.

“No one could kill Elfangor. He is the greatest warrior ever. No one could kill him!” He is so young. And so scared. And trying so hard not to show it.

 Oh, he’s embarrassed that they didn’t let him fight.
 Why a non-combatant was going into a war zone in the first place is a bit unclear. But let’s roll with it.

I wonder what Andalites do to each other for comfort. Do they touch each other? Wrap each other in blankets? Provide warm beverages? Offer emotional warmth telepathically?

Whatever it is I very much want Ax to have that right now. He’s alone and he’s been alone for weeks and his brother is dead and everyone is dead.

I guess deciding who your new prince is going to be is like comfort.

This book is about what happens when no one wants to be in charge, but someone has to be.

Oh thank goodness the Andalites have words for aesthetic things. We are differentiating the Good Guys from the Bad Guys here. The bad guys don’t seem to have any culture apart from domination and survival and hierarchy. (Although they might have some kinds of relationships. Spawnmates. We don’t know much about the Yeerks.) The good guys…they would still know who they are, and would indeed have better lives, without the war.

(Maybe. The "warrior" thing also seems to be a big part of Andalite culture though, and as of yet it's unclear how that manifests when they're not at war.)

“We take our home with us into space. It angers the Yeerks” sounds like propaganda, like “they hate freedom.” But who knows, it could be true. The Yeerks, what we’ve seen of them so far, are remarkably awful.

“Once a planet is under their control, they alter it to suit their own desires. They will leave enough plant and animal species to keep their host bodies fed … and the rest they eliminate.” Sound like anyone we know? Yeah, I think Applegate is way more of an ecology nerd than she’s usually letting on.

“That can’t be. You’re just saying that because you don’t like Yeerks.” I guess that’s in the same ballpark as moral condemnation? Moral condemnation through negative space.

“Yeerks are killers of worlds. Murderers of all life.”

“Five kids against an enemy that has destroyed half the galaxy?” “Six, my Prince.”

Ax isn’t going to mention that he only sees four?

I bet Ax acquired a shark. this is going to be hilarious.

Yup.

“Taxxons?” I think maybe y’all should have mentioned the Taxxons first.

I wonder if Ax is weirded out by how short the human names are. I wonder if he’s going to have a moment when he’s introduced to the concept of middle and last names and realizes that it’s not that the kids don’t have full names, they just didn’t introduce themselves with full names.

Ax might not be a kid. Maybe Andalites don’t let young adults fight. You have to be the equivalent of 25 or something. Maybe you’re expected to have your first child before you fight.

Eh. He’s probably a kid.

It is, as Marco would say, insane that 18 year olds are considered old enough to join the military.

Maybe it wouldn’t be insane if we treated 16 and 17 year olds like the nearly-adults they are.

I guess as long as I’m objecting to “lame” I might as well be consistent. It is ludicrous that 18 year olds are considered old enough to join the military, while 17 year olds aren’t considered old enough to drop out of high school.

[rays-animorphs]

Book 8 part 5: this is it boys, this is war

Did someone…ok, yes, one of the kids did go run for help, that is an appropriate response.

Not that there is help here. But there might have been. Appropriate first aid. If you don’t know what else to do, get someone who does.

(Personal story: one time when I was riding my bike to school in 11th grade, I came across an old lady lying unconscious on her front stairs. This was the 90's and I did not have a cell phone. I also had no clue what I was doing, so I tried to get help. (The stairs were curved and there was a wall between the stairs and the street, so it was pretty hard to see her from the road.) In retrospect I think she was dead when I found her, but I didn't know that then. There's really no lower age limit at which someone might find a person in a lifethreatening medical crisis with no one older or more knowledgeable immediately present.)

Prince Jake has a rep for responsibility, so him trying to help a teacher clearly having some sort of medical crisis is not breaking cover.

(Jake letting the teacher know he knows about Yeerks) “Jake was my prince, but this was dangerous, foolish behavior.” Yeah. I understand it. But it is hella risky, Jake.

How do these kids survive 50-odd books.

Mystery cylinder.

Well, maybe not that mysterious. oof.

I…can’t really be mad at Jake for not anticipating this. He’s like thirteen. Of course he didn’t anticipate this.

And his brother is a Controller.

There’s a reason child soldiers are a bad thing.

There does often tend to be a lot of, well, suspension of disbelief around that in stories though. (Kinda inevitable when all the cool stories are about fighting and kids want to read about people close to their own age.) Everything works out ok in the end. Right?

Oof. Jake isn’t wrong.

(And it’s not wrong to have stories that are heavily on the make-believe side of things. People are capable of recognizing the difference between fiction and reality. Kids can understand that maybe Spiderman can jump off a building but you can’t, and that the Narnia boys can fight with real swords but on Earth you have to make do with fake ones. People can, generally speaking, handle the difference between fiction and reality.) (And it’s also, well. It’s also. Getting closer to. Jakes’ brother. And Mr. What’s-his-name. And this is war.)

Current song: 99 red balloons

…does Ax know what a “pawn” is? Eh, I guess he knows it the way he knows English in general.

“Maybe you would not have destroyed the Kandrona if you had known it could endanger Tom.” Maybe that wasn’t your decision to make, Ax.

Heh. I just realized I probably shouldn’t feel this sorry for Ax. Jake is right. Ax is keeping a lot of very relevant secrets from the humans. But I do. Kid is a long, long, long way from home. And I think he’s trying to do the right thing.

He’s so alone. And so young. And so very much in over his head.

I wonder if Applegate said things out loud when she was writing Ax. I hope so. Book-kuh-store.

Heh heh. Prime directive.

“Yeah, everybody loves a good ‘ing’”. Marco.

There is nothing about this that is not scripted.

Oh, maybe it wasn’t on purpose. OK then.

Ax. “don’t say anything other than yes or no and don’t go anywhere” implies “don’t mess around with the computer.”

OK yes Ax’s interaction with Marco’s dad, saying only “yes” and “no”, is hilarious.

Third base!

[ask-kid]

Hey kid, once you get into the principal's office, try and see if she left any remotes for Penny behind, otherwise she'll do something horrible to Penny that she doesn't deserve! Once you've grabbed the remotes smash them all, until you have one remote left to continue to control Penny.

>” I’ll have to listen to these again later...”

>”Heh. I didn’t know it squeaks...”

Creature feature arc: //1 //2  //3 (here) //4...

+Finally! I thought we’d be waiting there forever! >”Uhhh who’re you guys?”

-It’s nice to see again! good to see your hand’s doing alright.

+ Anyways while you were up there, been sneaking around the school and- uhh Kid? you alright?

>”...” *inhales* “well-”

>” I mean I understand, considering how sketch this school is, but letting me know beforehand would’ve been NICE!”

+ Sorry! Sorry! We just got so focused with sneaking in that we forgot to let you in on the plan.

+Okay! so...

-So the new plan is that we’re going to be trying to use the door!

>” i’m guessing you’l be needing this right?”

-Penny’s remote! how’d you-? actually it doesn’t matter. So that means we can go to the next phase of the plan!

>”We’re going to actually KILL the teachers?” 

-They’re allowing those kids and Penny to be treated like this. They’re just as guilty as the principal is.

>*sighs* “Yeah you have a good point there...” 

Early this morning....

{{Though after the first Kindergarten’s “incident” I have no clue if he’s still alive down there or not...

{{Let me explain something about how Penny’s brain... I’ll be sure to use simple terms

{{So while her brain still collects memories and Information, Those helpful adjustments have certain memories kept in her subconscious. It saves me a lot of trouble....

+ I wanted to eavesdrop for a little longer, but it’s hard to stay in those vents for long...

-... - We... probably shouldn’t think too hard on that one...

>”So... What do you guys need me to do?”

+Anyways, You better head back out before you blow our cover!

//Meanwhile above ground...

{{ I only worked on the mutation project, the last principal worked on studying the Pills affects...I have his reports on his subjects in my office. If I remember correctly he had 5 Test subjects to study...

{{I truly wonder sometimes how she would’ve been affect-

{{Oh! Penny!... What is it?

_I just wanted to tell you I think Ms. Applegate might’ve dropped the remote down a drain pipe possibly...

{{That’s...that’s alright as long as no one else has it, go run along now it’s almost time to head in...

Creature feature arc: //1 //2 //3 (here) //4...

[etherealwaifgoddess]

Run To You, Chpt.4

Summary: Bucky mends things with Steve and together they move forward to the next step in the relationship. Master list is HERE :)

Content Warnings: Some lovely smut towards the end of the chapter

Word Count: 5.3k

Author’s Note: Hello lovelies! I originally had this broken out into two smaller chapters but then I decided the hell with it and am giving you one giant monster of a chapter instead. So please enjoy this 5.3k word beast which contains lots of sweet fluff and some steamy smut towards the end. XOXO - Ash

Chapter Four

The communication black out lasts three days. It’s the longest they’ve gone without talking or texting since they met over a month ago. Bucky is surlier than usual and eventually Natasha calls him out on it. He wants to pick a fight with her when she does but he’s running late for his shift and he has to hurry out the door, settling for just flipping her off as he leaves. Natasha, however, is undeterred and proceeds to text him, letting him know exactly what she thinks of the situation. 

It���s a slow night in the ER and Bucky can’t stand the down time. All he can think about is the fight with Steve. Well, not even a fight really. Steve pissed him off and he did what he does best: he ran. The more Bucky thinks about it, the more he feels like an ass. He knows how socially awkward Steve is, how he’s not always sure of societal norms. It’s not all that surprising that Steve would make a faux paux, but Bucky’s reaction to it wasn’t okay. The longer he dwells on it the more he realizes how very not okay it was. 

Bucky is forced to take his mid-shift break when Darcy comes on rotation, the tiny woman physically shoving him towards the break room and telling him to catch a nap if he can. She’s been a good friend since he started there three years ago, and she knows how much the overnight shift wears on him. Bucky stares at his phone, wondering if a text would wake Steve. He hopes not, it’s just past two in the morning and no one deserves to be woken up by an apology text at that hour. Bucky types, and retypes, and retypes again, the best apology he can muster. After staring at his phone for another five minutes, willing the message to send itself, he deletes it, settling for a simple: I’m sorry for what happened. Can we talk when you have time?

Sighing in relief that the dreaded text is sent, Bucky lays back on one of the break room cots and starts scrolling through his Instagram feed. He barely gets through Clint’s latest story when his phone rings, Steve’s goofy contact photo lighting up the screen. Shocked, Bucky flails and drops the phone, the damned device sliding under the cot where Bucky has to crawl down to get it, frantically trying to answer the call in time. “Hello!” he shouts breathlessly as he swipes to accept the call. 

“Bucky?” Steve asks, confused and concerned by Bucky’s breathless tone.

“Sorry, dropped my phone. I’m here.” 

“Oh, is it okay? I’ve broken four iPhones dropping them. I’m pretty sure Tony is ready to kill me, but they’re just so fragile.” 

Bucky smirks, trying to keep the laughter out of his voice. “It’s fine, thanks. How on earth did you manage to destroy an iPhone just by dropping it though? They’re fragile but my buddy Clint drops his daily and it’s fine.” 

Steve chuckles, a self depreciating rumble, “Well, when you drop them while exiting a Quinjet in mid air they don’t typically make it to the ground in one piece. And one time it was off a building but really, that time it just slipped right out of my hand. Even super soldier reflexes couldn’t catch it.” 

The laugh Bucky was suppressing bursts free. “Oh god, no wonder Stark wants to kill you.” 

There’s a beat of silence after Bucky’s laughter dies down. It’s heavy, the reason for the call hanging in the air. “It’s real good to hear your voice.” Steve admits quietly. 

Bucky’s heart clenches, “Yeah, it’s good to hear yours too. I didn’t mean to bolt like that. I’m sorry I didn’t give us a chance to talk it out.” 

“You weren’t wrong. I don’t know her, and it was thoughtless of me to trivialize your problems by trying to solve them for you.” 

“You were just being a good person. I get why you wanted to help. In the moment though, I felt like you thought I couldn’t take care of my own kid. And I’m sorry, but that’s probably always going to be a sore point for me. I fight like hell everyday to give that little girl a better life than I had and I’m damned proud of that. But… I still shouldn’t have run out on you like that.” 

“Buck… I… I would never think for a minute that you can’t take care of her. She’s so lucky she has you raising her, you’re an amazing parent. I’m sorry if I made you feel otherwise.” 

Bucky sniffed roughly, ignoring the burning of unshed tears, “Thanks, Steve. It means a lot. And I promise the next time we disagree with something, I won’t go running off without us talking things through. I really like you, Steve. I want to give us a real chance.” 

“I really like you too, a lot. Can I see you later this week? Maybe we can have a do over at the cafe and you can actually eat your chocolate chip pancakes this time. They were really good, you missed out.” 

“Yeah, we can do that. I was really looking forward to… wait, what? Did you eat my pancakes?” 

“Um, well, I took them home thinking I’d be able to give them to you later. But then you didn’t reach out and I didn’t want them going to waste. I’m sorry?” 

“Nah, it’s good someone ate them. I really was looking forward to them, though. I have off all day tomorrow for Becca’s appointment if you’re free. And you know who else really likes chocolate chip pancakes?” He waits a beat for Steve to guess but the other man is silent on the other end of the line, “Becca.” 

Steve is quite another moment before finally responding. “I don’t want you to feel like I’m rushing you. If you’re not ready for me to meet her, that’s okay. I’ll wait as long as it takes until you’re comfortable.” 

“We’re not rushing, it’s time. Tomorrow will be good because if she does get glasses, which is likely, we’ll be able to celebrate with dinner out for her. Honestly, she’s going to take one look at those giant pancakes and you will be an afterthought. She loves my friends who help watch her but I’ve never introduced her to a boyfriend before so I’m not sure how she’ll take that. Hopefully this will make it a good experience for her.” 

“Ah yes, bribing small children with baked goods and sugar. I’m all in favor of that.” 

Bucky chuckles, “Whatever works. So, we’ll see you tomorrow? Maybe around five thirty?” 

“Yeah, I can do that. I’ll see you two then.” 

“See you then.” Bucky disconnects the call, a wide smile plastered on his face. He really likes Steve and feels like this relationship could be different from his past ones. 

Bucky’s good mood is noticeable and gets him teased by both Darcy and Carol at work, followed by Clint when he arrives home later that morning. He can’t be bothered by their affectionate jabs though, he knows he has it bad. He hasn’t mentioned to his friends who Steve is, as in Captain America, only saying he’s a cute guy he met in the bodega near his house. Only Natasha knows the whole truth but she eats secrets like M&Ms so he has no fears of her saying anything to anyone. 

xxXxx

Becca is surprisingly cooperative getting ready for preschool, even after Bucky reminds her she has a doctor’s appointment afterwards. She’s so used to seeing her various doctors that it doesn’t even phase her outside the concern if this new doctor will have a good prize box like her breathing specialist does or if they’ll just have stickers like her normal pediatrician. Bucky reminds her that not all doctors have prize boxes and she should be nice to them no matter what. Becca nods but tells him that he should really ask these sort of questions when he calls for an appointment. It’s through ironclad self control that he manages not to laugh until she’s through the doors of Applegate Academy. His little girl is a spitfire and he loves it. 

Bucky manages to snag a few hours of sleep while Becca’s at school. He can’t wait for Monday when he’s off again and can sleep for a full night like a normal person. Cat naps on his breaks at the ER and a few hours here and there at home never seem to be enough when his rotation schedule has too many days in a row. Bucky dresses quickly, not wanting to show up in his sweats despite knowing the cafe is definitely a casual meet up. He’s still unsure how Becca is going to handle meeting Steve. Sometimes she’s all bravado and personality, others she tucks herself behind Bucky’s legs to shy away. There’s never a rhyme or reason to it and the pediatrician said it’s normal preschooler behavior. Bucky can only hope it goes well for all of them. He has enough to worry about with the eye doctor’s appointment. 

Becca decides she loves her optometrist the second she sits down in the exam chair. Dr. Gibbons is a soft spoken older man with greying hair and a deeply lined face. He makes Becca giggle throughout the appointment with his antics which keep the visit stress free for the little girl. After running through a series of tests he confirms what the school suspected, Becca does need glasses. The doctor explains that Becca’s prescription is only a -1.75 so it’s not surprising she hadn’t shown more noticeable symptoms. Bucky fights back the tears that prickle along the corners of his eyes at the news; relief washing over him that this wasn’t something he’d blatantly missed. 

Shopping for glasses is a bit of a challenge considering Becca thinks she’s a princess and Bucky’s wallet begs to differ. He lucks out that they have a sale going and he steers Becca to the shelf of glasses that he can get for a reasonable price. She does finally pick a pair from the sale shelf that she says make her look like a librarian, which is her current career aspiration since she met the school librarian a month ago. Bucky chuckles and assures her she looks very nice. The doctor offers to have them ready to pick up in an hour which leaves them with enough time to walk down the block to the community park they passed on their way. Becca throws herself around the jungle gym like a wild animal and it makes Bucky thankful he spent the extra money on a protection plan on her new glasses. She’s an active little girl and he’d rather pay a extra few dollars now than buy a whole new pair of glasses when something happens. 

The glasses come out perfect and barely need adjusting to fit Becca’s face. The tortoise shell frames stand out against her pale face making her grey-blue eyes even more pronounced. Bucky is full of emotion watching her tilt her head from side to side examining how she looks until finally announcing they’re marvelous and taking off to see how far away she can see now. Bucky hands over his debit card, cringing at the total but thankful he had enough to cover them without completely wiping out his savings. Becca is oblivious to his stress, thankfully, and spends the whole walk to the cafe pointing out things she can see now like little symbols on store signs and smaller items on display in store windows. It’s like the whole world has opened up for her and Bucky couldn’t be happier for his little girl. The awning of the cafe comes into view and Bucky braces himself for the impending meeting. The first half of their day went well, now he just has to hope the second part does too. 

xxXxx

Becca shrieks when she sees the tiny honey bees on the sign of the cafe. Her love affair with bugs of all sorts has her grilling the waitress about bees while they’re led to a table. The poor waitress at least knows enough about bees to keep the conversation going, although the cafe itself is more wildflower themed than bee themed. The tiny honey bees on the sign were more of an afterthought than the main artwork. Becca is still on her bee tangent when Steve walks in, looking around and spotting them easily. 

“Becs,” Bucky gets her attention, “Remember that I said we’re meeting my friend Steve here too? And that you have to be on your very best behavior?”

Becca nods, “I know. I’ll be good. And then I’ll get pancakes as big as my head.” 

“You got it. Steve is here and he’s coming over so remember your manners please.” Bucky waves Steve over, the blonde was actually waiting for Bucky to give him permission before approaching. It’s sweet and considerate and makes Bucky think he was right in entrusting Steve to meet his little girl. 

Becca hops up as Steve approaches and stands ramrod straight, her little hand extended towards him. “Hello.” she says in her most polite tone, “I’m Rebecca Grace Barnes, but you can call me Becca.” 

Steve looks like he would melt into a puddle on the floor if he physically could. Instead, he crouches down to her level and shakes her hand gently. “Nice to meet you, Becca. I’m Steven Grant Rogers, but you can call me Steve.” 

Becca giggles, “That’s silly. You have Captain America’s name.” 

“Oh god.” Bucky mutters under his breath while Steve blushes brightly. 

Steve pulls his SHIELD ID card out of his wallet and flashes it to Becca. Her eyes widen and Steve presses a finger to his lips making a shhh sound.  

Becca spins around to Bucky glaring, “Why didn’t you bring Captain America home before?!” she demands. “He’s way cooler than Chrissy’s stupid uncle who was on TV.” 

“Rebecca Grace!” Bucky hisses. “This is my friend, not someone for you to brag to your classmates about.” 

Becca cringes, she hates being scolded. “Sorry Bucky. Sorry Steve.” she pouts, reclaiming her seat. 

“It’s okay,” Steve assures her as he takes his seat across the table from her. “I know you were just excited.” he turns to look at Bucky, drinking in the sight of him after the long days of radio silence. “It’s good to see you.” Steve reaches out across the table for Bucky’s hand and the brunette extends his to meet Steve halfway. 

“You too. I missed you.” Bucky tells him, giving Steve’s hand a squeeze. The moment is soft and full of unspoken words, words unsuitable for the tiny ears that aren’t missing a beat. 

Becca watches them with narrowed eyes. “Is Steve a friend you kiss?” she asks, breaking their tender moment.

Steve blushes again, hard, and Bucky can’t help but grin. Steve is painfully adorable when he blushes. “Yeah, Becs. Steve is my boyfriend.” 

“Tommy’s mom has a boyfriend. Tommy says he takes him to Coney Island and lets him have funnel cake for dinner. Can we go to Coney Island?” 

Steve helplessly looks to Bucky who just nods subtly. “Sure, Becca. We can do that sometime.” Steve assures her once Bucky has made his assent clear. “I like spending time with your brother and I’d like to spend time with you too, if that’s okay.” 

“I guess that’s okay.” 

Bucky shoots Steve a thumbs up and tries not to laugh. “Why don’t you pick out your dinner, Becs? It’s your celebration dinner, you can have whatever you want.” 

“What are we celebrating?” Steve asks, wanting to give Becca a chance to tell him even though he already knows.

“My glasses!” she announces excitedly. “They’re new. Do you like them?”

“They’re very nice.” 

Becca launches into her spiel on how she wants to be a librarian and the librarian at her school has glasses like these and so does the librarian at the public library so now she looks like them and she can be a librarian when she grows up. Steve nods and smiles at the appropriate times, completely enamored by her. Becca’s expressions are identical to Bucky’s, the Barnes family genes running strong between the pair of siblings. She’s lively despite her small size and Steve finds himself thinking back to when he was just a feisty little thing himself. 

When the waitress comes back around, Becca orders chocolate chip pancakes and hot cocoa. Bucky and Steve follow suit ordering breakfast for dinner; Bucky looking forward to finally getting to enjoy his own order of chocolate chip pancakes. Becca attacks her food the second it’s in front of her, letting Steve and Bucky chat while she eats. They catch up with how Steve’s been doing since his last mission and how much Bucky’s looking forward to a day off and going back on daytime rotations soon. Steve is surprised by how easily the meal goes with Becca. She’s such a sweetheart and he worries he’ll be wrapped around her little finger in no time at all. 

The validity of concern comes to fruition as soon as they leave the cafe. Steve gives Bucky a chaste kiss, promising to text him later when Becca tugs on the hem of his shirt. She’s tired, leaning heavily on Bucky’s leg and waiting for Steve to stoop down to her level. 

“What’s up, Becca?” Steve asks once he’s down face to face with her.

“Can you tuck me in tonight? I bet you have better bedtime stories than Bucky.” 

Bucky tries to look offended but fails, barely suppressing a laugh while he shrugs at Steve.

“If you’re sure.” Steve says carefully. “But I’m probably just as boring as your brother.” 

“Nah, you’re super cool. Please come home and tuck me in?” 

“Okay, lead the way.” 

Becca takes Steve’s hand but is dragging behind him after a few blocks. “Steeeve.” she whines, “Carry me?” 

Steve doesn’t even hesitate, he just scoops the little girl up in his arms and pops her on top of his shoulders. 

“It’s so tall up here.” she mumbles, leaning her head on the top of his like it’s a pillow.

Bucky gives Steve an apologetic look but Steve just smiles. He really doesn’t mind in the least. Steve always wanted kids but never expected it to be in the cards for him. He was so sickly growing up he felt that he couldn’t in good conscious pass along his genes and risk a child having all the health issues he did. And that was even if he found a woman who would have had his 90 pound asthmatic self for a husband. Steve had always known he was bisexual and had leaned towards a preference for men, but that would have posed a whole other set of issues for him back in the 1940s and would have ruled out any possible chance of children for sure. Now though, he’s able to openly date a wonderful man who just happens to come with a kid in tow. It’s everything he’s ever dared to hope for and Steve tries to slow his racing thoughts to no avail. He hopes and wishes and prays that the rush of affection he feels for this man lasts and grows. Steve has never felt so in sync with someone before and it’s hard to slow down his emotions because of it. 

Becca is practically asleep when they get back to their apartment. Bucky’s been keeping an eye on her as the moments between her blinks slow, until her eyes stay closed and she’s draped over Steve’s head and shoulders like an obnoxious hat. “She’s almost out.” Bucky whispers to Steve as they climb the stairs to his apartment.

“Do you think she’ll still want a story?” Steve asks quietly. He’s been trying to remember stories his ma told him along the way. He knows bits and pieces of a few and hopes she isn’t going to be too picky. 

“Depends. If she wakes up a bit when you put her down, you’re not getting away without a story. If the eyes stay mostly closed, you can escape with just a hug.”

“You have it down to a science.” Steve jokes.

“It happens.” Bucky shrugs. The truth is, Becca is a pretty easy to read kid. She’s expressive and open which makes anticipating her needs extremely easy. Bucky had gotten so lucky with Becca; she had been an easy baby, a happy toddler, and was now an easy going preschooler. Natasha likes to tease that she’s lulling him into complacency and the real struggle will hit during her teenage years, but Bucky has a feeling she’s just a genuinely good kid. Admittedly though, he’s probably a little biased.

“It’s not much, but it’s ours.” Bucky tells Steve as they enter their tiny apartment. He leads Steve down to Becca’s room so he can pull her off the blonde's shoulders and lay her down in her bed. 

Becca stirs and blinks blearily, not fully waking up. “Steve?” she mumbled.

“Yep, I’m here.” Steve pulls up her lady bug print sheets, making sure she’s well tucked in. “You sleep tight, okay?” 

Becca mumbles something unintelligible and then flings her arms out for a hug. Steve leans in and carefully returns her embrace. 

“Night Steve. Night Bucky. Love you.” she says with a yawn before sprawling out to get comfortable. 

The men quietly exit Becca’s room, Bucky closing the door behind them so they can head down the hall to the living room. 

“Thanks for doing that.” Bucky says once they’re standing by the sofa. “She seems to really like you.” 

“The feeling’s mutual.” Steve admits. “She’s a great kid, Bucky.” 

“Yeah, she is. So, do you have to hurry off or would you like to stay for a bit?” 

Steve doesn’t even have to consider it. “I’ll stay.”

Bucky chuckles at Steve’s eager reply. “Come on, let’s settle in and we can watch something on Netflix.” 

Steve joins Bucky on the threadbare sofa, careful to set his weight down gently since he’s a bit larger of a man than the sofa was designed for. Bucky slumps in like he’s done a million times before, letting Steve adjust to dictate how close he wants to be. Much to his surprise and delight, Steve scoots over almost instantly to wrap an arm around Bucky’s shoulders. “This okay?” he checks in as he moves. Bucky nods and the smile on Steve’s face could light up the sun. 

They watch an old episode of Parks and Recreation, Steve recognizing the show in Bucky’s Netflix queue. He’d watched a few episodes and found he really liked it but hadn’t gotten past the third season yet. Steve doesn’t get much downtime to sit around watching TV and he cherishes the time with Bucky to just relax and bask in the affectionate warmth of each other’s company. 

“This is nice.” Steve says with a yawn as the second episode comes to an end. 

As if on cue, Bucky’s yawn echos Steve’s as he nods. “It is.” he agrees, sliding himself up a little so he’s hovering closer to Steve’s face. “It really is.”

Steve takes the hint and meets Bucky half way for a lingering, unhurried, kiss. One kiss leads to two, leads to three, and then they’re making out with Bucky practically lying on top of Steve on the small sofa. It’s less than comfortable but Steve is too wrapped up in having Bucky on top of him to mind. His mind swims, overwhelmed and unable to focus on anything other than Bucky, Bucky, Bucky. There’s a pressing hardness against Steve’s thigh and he groans when he takes notice. It feels fast but they’ve been talking for months and he hasn’t felt this close to anyone since before the ice. He slides his thigh back and forth, giving Bucky just the slightest friction until the brunette is shuddering and gasping his name. 

“Steve, wait.” Bucky rasps, pushing lightly on the other man’s shoulders. 

“You okay?” Steve checks in.

“Yeah, yeah. Just… Becca’s right down the hall.” 

Steve blushes brightly, “Sorry, I didn’t even think.” 

“It’s okay, you’re not used to having a kid around.” 

“I can go, just gimme a minute.” he laughs lightly looking down at the bulge in his slacks. “Last thing I need is someone snapping a pic of Captain America walking around with a boner.” 

Bucky barks out a laugh, “Wow, yeah. That would be bad. You don’t have to go though, I have my very own room down the hall with a door that locks. As long as you can keep quiet, we’ll be just fine.” 

“I think that can be arranged.”

Bucky grins, taking Steve’s hand in his and leading him down the hall to his bedroom. It’s nothing fancy, just a bed and dresser with a small window and closet. The navy blue bedspread has white constellations on it and Steve smiles at this new tidbit of insight into Bucky’s life. Bucky takes a moment to lock the door before pushing Steve gently back towards the bed until the back of his knees are colliding with the edge and he’s forced to sit down. It’s subtle, the way Bucky is herding Steve right where he wants him. Bucky brackets Steve’s knees with his own, forcing Steve to scoot back a little to give him space. Leaning down, Bucky captures Steve’s lips and picks up right where they left off on the sofa. 

Steve hasn’t felt small since before the serum, but this, being surrounded by Bucky under his loving touches and kisses, Steve is transported back to his pre-war self. His whole being is consumed by Bucky and he loves the overwhelmingness of it. Little gasps slip from his lips when Bucky trails kisses and little nips down the column of his throat, he can barely keep up with the sensations. Before he knows what’s happening, Steve realizes Bucky is kneeling between his legs, looking up at him in silent request. Steve nods and Bucky gets to work divesting Steve of his pants and underwear. 

Bucky groans slightly at the sight of Steve’s cock bobbing proudly upwards towards his navel. He’s long and deliciously thick, and while Bucky’s no size queen, he’s fully appreciating what Steve’s got going on. He gives Steve’s shaft a few tentative strokes, making Steve cant his head back and squeeze his eyes tightly shut. Rubbing away a bead of pre come at the tip with his thumb, Bucky lowers his head and swallows Steve down with ease. It’s been a while, a very long while, but deep throating was a skill Bucky mastered long ago. He’s always loved giving head, the intimacy of the act and the trust it requires on both parts. There’s something impossibly erotic about bringing his partner to the peaks of pleasure that can only be reached  by just the right suction and swirling of his tongue.

Steve thinks he’s died and gone to heaven as Bucky starts sucking him off in earnest. He’s had blow jobs before, hurried, rushed things back in the 30s and 40s done in secret with the fear of being discovered, and a few since waking up from the ice that were more relaxed and quite nice, but nothing could have prepared him for Bucky’s mouth. It’s like white hot electricity is flowing through his veins and he’s trembling uncontrollably as the energy coils low and tight in his belly. He can’t stop himself as he stammers, “Buck… Buck wait… I can’t…. I’m gonna…” 

It’s all the warning Bucky gets before Steve is spilling down his throat and he’s swallowing quickly trying not to lose a single drop. Steve is still shaking, the muscles in his ridiculously toned stomach dancing from the tremors. Bucky leans back on his heels, unable to hide his smirk even as he wipes the saliva from his puffy lips. 

“That was…” Steve attempts but ends up just flailing a hand in place of words. His higher brain functioning isn’t back online yet. 

Bucky bites his lip to suppress his grin, he’s pleased with himself damnit. It’s not every day he gets to reduce a national icon to a stammering mess. 

“God, Bucky.” Steve huffs, “Seriously. Fucking hell. Get up here.” Steve pulls at Bucky’s shoulders until the brunette is straddling his thighs again and Steve can start tugging at the button on Bucky’s jeans. 

Bucky lets Steve tug his jeans and boxer briefs down around his thighs, too impatient to completely take them off. “Jesus, Bucky.” Steve murmurs, still undone and reeling from what was easily the best orgasm he’s had in this century. He thankfully has the sense to spit in his palm before wrapping it around Bucky’s throbbing cock. Watching Steve come had Bucky right on a razor edge of pleasure himself and he knows he isn’t going to last much longer than Steve did. There will be time later for going slower, drawing it out, he assures himself. Right now the heated frenzy is exactly what they both need. Steve is absorbed watching the head of Bucky’s cock appear and disappear in his grasp, barely recognizing how very close Bucky already is. He twists his wrist slightly on the upward stroke, making Bucky gasp little choked off moans against his chest where the brunette has slumped forward, practically boneless. Steve grips him a little tighter, reveling in the pulsing of Bucky’s hot, fat cock in his hand and the noise it causes. He might not be as long as Steve, but his girth has Steve squirming thinking of how it would feel inside him. Despite what Tony thinks, Steve is no blushing virgin. He knows exactly what he likes in bed and his mind supplies all sorts of wonderful fantasies of Bucky giving it to him until he barely remember his own name. 

Steve is startled from his pornographic imagination when Bucky goes rigid against him, jets of come splashing all the way up his stomach to his chest. He lets up his grip and works Bucky gently through the last of his orgasm. Steve wipes his hand on Bucky’s jeans so he can wrap his arms around Bucky, letting him stay nestled against Steve’s broad chest while he comes down from his own high. 

“Why did we wait so long to do that?” Bucky asks a few minutes later, breaking the gentle silence. 

Steve chuckles, “Beats me. Don’t know how I’m gonna keep my hands off of you now though.” 

“Hmm. Guess we’ll just have to control ourselves somehow. Or maybe we can get a babysitter sometime and really make a night of it.” 

“Yes, please, yes. Becca is great but god I want you in my bed for a whole night.” 

“I’ll talk to Nat, we’ll figure something out.” Bucky offers, heart pounding at the idea. 

Steve stifles a yawn, the late hour catching up with him. “I should head off.” he admits unhappily. 

“Let’s get you cleaned off first.” Bucky pulls his jeans and boxer briefs off, wiping Steve down where sticky come is cooling on his golden skin. Tossing them into the laundry basket, Bucky grabs a pair of soft pajama bottoms so he can walk Steve to the door. 

Steve is reluctant to leave and they swap sweet, sleepy, kisses in the doorway until finally he finds the resolve to pull back and wish Bucky sweet dreams. Bucky watches as Steve heads off, wondering how he got so lucky when all he did was mouth off in a bodega after a bad day. Whatever it was, he decides he’s not going to question it. It’s nice to have something actually go right in his life for once.

[tessatechaitea]

Justice Society of America #10 (1993)

Fact: Golden Age heroes didn't have penises.

I was starfished on my bedroom floor tonight staring at the ceiling and thinking about how in my teens and twenties, I could revel in it, thinking, "Who am I? Who will I become? What does life have in store for me?" But a grown ass man doing that simply thinks, "This is it, isn't it?" At least I can lose myself in reading comic books I've already read and which I didn't really enjoy that much the first time. It might sound like a waste of time but it gives my life meaning! The most shallow of meanings, sure. But at least I'm not growing old watching conservative news because I need anything at all to light my passion. I'll say this about Fox News: they understand how old people are so bored they'll watch the dumbest shit and then get mad about it. I know other people who aren't old also watch Fox News. I don't know what the fuck is wrong with them. I guess they have fears and hatreds I hope I'll never truly understand. I just don't understand watching Fox News (or any of the other non-propaganda 24 hour news sites). People do understand there are channels which show programs that make you laugh or feel merry or that simply entertain the other non-lizard parts of your brain, right? How do you pick Fox News when you can watch Sci-fi or Buzzr Comedy Central or the Ru-Paul's Drag Race all day channel? I just realized that the people who watch Fox News basically use Twitter the same way. The majority of my feed are funny people so even when they're discussing politics, it's always entertaining (or fiercely intelligent because witty people are smart. Dumb people think they're witty (see Mike Huckabee)). But when I check out the Twitter feeds of conservatives I know, at best they'll retweet a sports tweet sandwiched between forty retweets of Ben Shapiro and Dinesh Souza. Maybe they think some of the right wing pundits they follow are funny. But calling somebody a mean name or tagging everything "liberal tears" isn't funny. It's the kind of funny that the bully's weasely sidekick guffaws over and then says, "You tell 'em, Jimmy!" Speaking of things bullies would say, it's now time for me to criticize Len Strazewski's Justice Society. Previously, some old fart named Kulak made everybody in the world begin to hate. But they aren't just randomly hating everybody else. They really seem to be bonding over their hatred for the Justice Society of America. Is this story a metaphor about me and my hatred of this comic book? Because that would be a terrible metaphor seeing as how I don't really hate this comic. I wish I did though! I'm old and I need to feel passion! I bet if I hadn't dropped cable eighteen years ago, I'd be addicted to Fox News too! No, I wouldn't be. I'm as liberal as you can be while still making offensive jokes. So not really that liberal, I guess? Maybe I'm socially, economically, and politically liberal. But I'm a complete asshole when it comes to punchlines. Don't get me wrong! I don't make offensive jokes at the expense of people different than me. I make offensive jokes about myself and those Goddamned fucking babies. Fuck those parasitic monsters. This issue begins with Starman finally reappearing.

It really wasn't exciting enough for an announcement of his return. He's just another half-balding old guy. But it lets me talk about the DC Universe show, Stargirl!

I decided to watch Stargirl because what else am I going to do with my life? Finish reading Gravity's Rainbow? I mean, I am going to do that now that I'm done re-reading those awful Lando Calrissian books. But I can't spend all of time reading Pynchon! Just too much of it! I mean, I'm only 18 pages into Gravity's Rainbow (which is further than I've ever gotten on my previous three attempts!) and I'd estimate I don't understand 5% of the words he's used. And that's me being an English Lit major who has been a voracious reader his entire 48 years (minus the ones where I couldn't read yet. Like ten or something?). I was in bed reading and didn't have a dictionary at hand so I just powered through. But I think I need to go back through and learn all of those words so I can impress the local Starbucks barista! Or are people not impressed when you use a word they have nearly zero chance of knowing and don't know you enough to keep the conversation going by asking you what that means and instead just smile and nod and glance occasionally at the tip jar? Anyway, so I've watched three episodes so far and I'll tell you how I feel about it after I mention how I've actually watched four episodes. The first episode I watched, I was impressed with because Courtney was already palling around with a bunch of legacy JSA members and the Injustice Society was trying to tackle the "Who is Stargirl?" problem and I watched it thinking, "This is really impressive how they decided to start in the middle of the story like this. I like it!" Then I went to watch episode two and I was confused because it didn't seem to follow after the previous episode. So I kept thinking, "Maybe this is a flashback?" And then eighteen minutes into it, I thought, "Maybe I didn't watch the pilot episode. I'd better check." And I started watching the first episode which I totally hadn't seen. So I guess I started with Episode 7 or something. Here are some of my tweet-thoughts on the show for those who don't follow me on Twitter (why don't you follow me on twitter? What is wrong with you? Is it because you don't know I'm @GrunionGuy?): Tweet #1: "Sometimes you think maybe you're having inappropriate thoughts but then you check to make sure the actress playing a fifteen year old Stargirl is actually 21 and then you breathe a sigh of relief and think, 'I won't be cancelled today! Unless I tweet this experience, probably.'" Tweet #2: "Sometimes you think maybe you're having inappropriate thoughts but then remember it's okay to fuck a car that's been converted into a giant robot with Luke Wilson inside of it." Tweet #3: "3rd episode of Stargirl begins with a dying white woman's final wish to her white husband that he make the world safe for their white son. She dies and he goes out into the enormous hedge maze garden of his mansion to scream into the sky about the injustice of it all. All in all, a pretty good villain origin!" That third tweet was the only one that really makes any sort of socially acceptable commentary on the show. Saying things like "Stargirl's butt doesn't look like my mouth should be inside of it because she's fifteen although the actress is twenty-one so maybe it actually does look like that?" aren't the greatest things to admit even if you're just joking (which I am but just adding this statement makes it sound like I'm not but I totally am (that "totally" doesn't help but I assure you, I'm joking (did the hole just get deeper?))). I mean, sure, her body is super fit because she's a super hero (or will be?). But she has such a baby face! And even at twenty-one, she's just a baby! If I were younger, I'd totally have a crush on her. But I'm 48 and I just don't consider young women proper targets for my sexual deviance anymore. The only interaction I should have with young women these days is warning them against going out to the summer camp at the lake where that boy drowned so many years ago. The girls I had a crush on when I was younger (Christina Applegate (Kelly Bundy), Winona Ryder (Veronica Sawyer), and Stacie Mistysyn (Caitlin Ryan)), I have even more of a crush on now. Judging by the crushes I've had my whole life and not society's stereotype of women, women definitely get better looking as they get older. And probably as I get older. I'm sure that's part of it although I like to think that fifteen year old me would still look at these nearly fifty (or maybe fifty? I'm not so obsessed I know their ages but they're all around my age anyway) year old women and think, "Holy fuck mommy." I'm sorry for that last comment. But I'm only sorry to God not anybody who was reading this. Oh, I forgot to mention that Joel McHale is the original Starman (I mean original in the show although he's Sylvester Pemberton who was never Starman but only Skyman although in the show he was at one point the Star-Spangled Kid and Luke Wilson does mention Ted Knight at some point). And he's funny in his death scene just like he should be because I've obviously decides Sylvester is Jeff Winger's new superhero secret identity alias. Starman heads off with his Cosmic Buttplug to stop Kulak in Gotham City. He doesn't know it yet but the rest of his pals are currently battling Kulak and probably losing. Although Kulak is even older than they are so maybe it's a fair fight. I'm just surprised that a comic book where old men battle other old men has made it ten issues.

I think some editor was fired last issue and the new editor's only job was to make sure it didn't look like Thunderbolt had been speared through the asshole.

Although this editor seemed to think it was okay to have Hawkgirl fucked from behind by Kulak.

I hope this isn't a terrible conservative take on women that exposes how terrible I am at sex but even mind-controlled, I can't imagine licking a woman's shoulder would elicit that response. Although she could be "Ummming" from his pee-hee in her bee-boo.

I know conservative talking points are generally fucking idiotic but Ben Shapiro somehow thinking women can get "too wet" from sexual excitement might be the most hilariously idiotic. I don't think I've been with a woman who was all, "Yes! Yes! Lick my shoulder blade!" and I then I got super into it and then suddenly she was all, "Nope. Too wet. This isn't working for me anymore. I need a doctor, I guess?" Who am I kidding? I know I've never been with a woman who did that because that would mean I've had to have been with a woman! Also, women get wet down there? What's that about? Is it because the vagina cries at the sight of the penis? Kulak takes away all of their super powers but I guess he forgets that Wildcat doesn't have any so I'm hoping Wildcat just punches him in the face soon. Although that Starman bit probably was a hint at how the coming fight might end. You know, with Starman shoving his Cosmic Buttplug into Kulak's third eye, if you know what I'm saying. You probably do because I called it a Cosmic Buttplug. I should try to be more subtle. Kulak's entire purpose is to get revenge on the Justice Society for defeating him way back in 1940. Can't even one super villain just accept defeat and move on with their lives? Or are writers just always going to be so inherently lazy that they'll never give up the crutch of the villain attacking the hero directly out of revenge for that one single time they tried to actually commit a crime and were stopped? The JSA puts up a fight that helps to drain Kulak's power but it isn't until Starman arrives and does that thing I mentioned with his Cosmic Buttplug that Kulak is defeated.

This is the grossest orgasm I've ever seen and my computer is riddled with viruses from all of the previous ones I've watched.

After Kulak's defeat, Jesse Quick wraps up the issue with her super hero dissertation which is less a dissertation and more of a thorough cleaning of all of their asses with her tongue. She's all, "I didn't really do much research or define heroes too good but the Justice Society of America are my heroes so I deserver a degree, right?" Justice Society of America #10 Rating: B. This comic book was as average as they get. I suppose that should garner a C grade but a B grade just seems to say decent but mediocre. By the time I get down to a C grade, I feel like the comic book needs a lot more faults than "I don't really care about stories with heroes who are having strokes during the battles." It's a valid criticism but it's probably too subjective for a critical review. I know, I know! When has that ever stopped me before? Well, I feel charitable today. It probably has something to do with Mars being so close to the full moon earlier this week. My blood is all riled up and wacky!

[cover2covermom]

Goodbye May & hello June!

May was leaps and bounds better than April.  Much like the rest of the United States, we spent April in quarantine here in Ohio.  In May, we started slowly reopening & got back some normalcy in our lives.

Let’s see what I read & blogged in May…

After being off work for 8 weeks, I returned to work this month.  While my library is still not yet open to patrons, our staff has been offering curbside service.  Since our building is currently only open to staff, I took advantage and cleaned out our storage room.  This was LONG overdue and desperately needed.  To give you some context, I was pulling things out that hadn’t been touched in 15 years…  We also just got the green light to start working on virtual summer programming!  I am looking forward to getting creative for virtual programming.

» The Last (Endling #1) by Katherine Applegate

I’ve read a few of Applegate’s other books, but The Last definitely felt more mature.  I’d consider this to be a crossover MG/YA fantasy.

» The Unhoneymooners by Christina Lauren

I was delighted at how entertaining this adult romance was.  The Unhoneymooners is a perfect beach/vacation read.

» Becoming by Michelle Obama

Despite the fact that this memoir is LONG, I was interested from start to finish.  I adore Michelle Obama and find her so inspiring.

» Everblaze (Keeper of the Lost Cities #3) by Shannon Messenger

The 3rd installment in a fantastic MG fantasy series.  I like how the content is maturing as the characters age.  This book was definitely darker than the previous two installments.

» Wishtree by Katherine Applegate

*Reread*

Wishtree was selected for our community wide read along.  I loved rereading this book with my children.  This is a perfect book for a community read along.

» The Fifth Avenue Story Society by Rachel Hauck

This book was just okay.  I didn’t realize this was “Christian fiction” when this was picked for one of my book clubs.  The religious tones came out of nowhere at the end & were very heavy handed.

» Crush (Berrybrook Middle School #3) by Svetlana Chmakova

I’ve adored each graphic novel in this series.  Chmakova captures the essence of middle school perfectly.  She also does a wonderful job giving us a diverse cast of characters, and tackling relevant topics.

» Artemis Fowl (Artemis Fowl #1) by Eion Colfer

This is an excellent MG/YA crossover fantasy book.  I’m a fan of anti-hero main characters, so I enjoyed reading about a 12-year-old “evil” genius.  I found this book to be very witty and amusing.  I’d recommend this book to fans of Terry Pratchett.

» The Stonekeeper’s Curse (Amulet #2) by Kazu Kibuishi

*4.5 Stars*

I enjoyed this second installment even more than the first!  The art style is absolutely stunning and I really enjoyed the story line.  I can really see this as a TV series or movie.

» El Deafo by Cece Bell

*3.5 Stars*

This graphic novel about a young girl with a hearing impairment is based off the author’s own life experiences.  While I loved reading from the prospective of a character with a hearing impairment, I had a few issues with the plot.  I was also not a big fan of the art style.

» Clap When You Land by Elizabeth Acevedo

Another 5-star read from Elizabeth Acevedo! Clap When You Land is a heart-wrenching book in verse about loss, betrayal, and forgiveness.

» Harbor Me by Jacqueline Woodson

Harbor Me was a beautiful MG contemporary novel about 6 kids, all with different backgrounds, that come together every Friday afternoon to share their experiences.  This felt like a diverse middle grade version of The Breakfast Club

» Sideways Stories from Wayside School (Wayside School #1) by Louis Sachar

I fondly remember this series from my elementary school days, so I bought it to read with my 6-year-old.  While I love the story, some of the content & language have not held up.  This isn’t exactly surprising since it was first published in 1978.  My daughter did love it though.

» The Cloud Searchers (Amulet #3) by Kazu Kibuishi

I’m loving this graphic novel series!

Goodreads Challenge Update: 60 books!

April 2020 Reading & Blogging Wrap-Up + Book Haul

Mini Book Reviews: May 2020 – Part 1

Mini Book Reviews: May 2020 – Part 2

Mini Book Reviews: May 2020 – Part 3

Mini Book Reviews: May 2020 – Part 4

ARC eBooks:

» The Time of Green Magic by Hilary McKay

From acclaimed author and Costa winner Hilary McKay comes The Time of Green Magic: a beautiful, spell-binding novel about a new families, a magical old house and a mysterious cat . . .

When Tom and Polly marry, blending their single parent families together, their children find it hard to relinquish their old lives. Max realizes his birth dad will never come home now, while Abi suddenly finds herself a middle child, expected to share far too much – especially with grubby little Louis. The family start over together, stretching their finances to the limit and renting an eerie, ivy-covered house, big enough for all of them.

But when the children are alone there, strange things start to happen. Worried, Louis summons comfort from outdoors, and a startling guest arrives – is it a cat, or an owl, or something else? Abi reads alone, tumbling deep into books. Max loses his best friend and falls in love.

Meanwhile, Louis’ secret visitor is becoming much too real. And when Max and Abi too start to see the great spotted cat-thing that arrives in the night, it becomes a problem the three of them must find a way to solve – together. But where has the creature come from, and how will he get back?

» The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue by V.E. Schwab

A Life No One Will Remember. A Story You Will Never Forget.

France, 1714: in a moment of desperation, a young woman makes a Faustian bargain to live forever and is cursed to be forgotten by everyone she meets.

Thus begins the extraordinary life of Addie LaRue, and a dazzling adventure that will play out across centuries and continents, across history and art, as a young woman learns how far she will go to leave her mark on the world.

But everything changes when, after nearly 300 years, Addie stumbles across a young man in a hidden bookstore and he remembers her name.

Much to my surprise, I was approved for an ARC of The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue via NetGalley!   This is my #1 most anticipated book of 2020!

Which books did you read this month?

Have you read any of the books I read or hauled this month?  If so, what did you think?

Did you buy any books?  If so, which ones?

Comment below & let me know 🙂

May 2020 Reading & Blogging Wrap-Up + Book Haul #BookBlogger #Bookworm #BookNerd #Bibliophile #Bookish #Books #Reading Goodbye May & hello June! May was leaps and bounds better than April.  Much like the rest of the United States, we spent April in quarantine here in Ohio. 

[little-droid]

LittleDroid's Long Overdue Animorphs Re-Read: Book 1 – The Invasion - Part 1

My name is Jake. That's my first name, obviously. I can't tell you my last name. It would be too dangerous. The Controllers are everywhere. Everywhere. And if they knew my full name, they could find me and my friends, and then . . . well, let's just say I don't want them to find me. What they do to people who resist them is too horrible to think about.

If there's one thing that sticks in my mind about the Animorphs books, it's this framing device. Each book is written in the first person, from the point of view of one of the main characters telling us how they can't give away too many details, in case the bad guys find them. Each one opens with one character giving their name and telling you it's far too dangerous to give you any more identifying information. As a kid reading these, it was compelling. A little part of me always wondered if the stories were true, and the books were a convenient ploy on behalf of the Animorphs to get the word out.

Jake tells us he can't reveal who he is, or where he lives, and that his life was normal up to one Friday night at the mall.

The book introduces the main cast quickly, and doesn't waste any time toying around establishing their characters. Everyone jumps off the pages right from the get go. There's Marco, Jake's cynical and sarcastic best friend who thinks he's suaver than he really is. There's Tobias, a bit of a dreamer who gets bullied at school for being weird and having a rough home life. There's Rachel, Jake's cousin, who's fashionable, tough and an amateur gymnast. There's Cassie, who's quiet, earthy and an animal lover (and who Jake has a crush on that he refuses to do anything about!).

We don't get a huge sense of who Jake is as a person just yet. Part of that is these books are short and this one has a lot of introductory material to cover. Part of it is Jake falls into the standard 'everyman' character trope. He's serious, dependable, and we find out he recently didn't make the basketball team. Aww.

Before we get into the story properly, I want to say I'm impressed with the cast diversity in this series. Cassie is black. Marco is Hispanic. We find out later that Jake is Jewish. And while there's no explicitly queer characters on paper (there are two characters later who are confirmed by Word of God to be in a queer relationship), I imagine this has more to do with the limitations of children's publishing in the late nineties rather than a lack of intent on the part of the authors.

Especially in a sci-fi series, it's too easy to fall into the trope of space adventures being a thing for cishet white boys. Kudos to Katherine Applegate and Michael Grant for writing something a wide range of kids could recognise themselves in.

Our characters decide to walk home together from the mall and take a short cut through an abandoned construction site they've all been told they're not allowed inside. They banter back and forth, Rachel teasing Jake for implying the girls need looking after on the way home, Cassie smoothing things over. Tobias spots a brilliant light shooting across the sky.

I looked at Tobias and he looked back at me. We both knew what we thought it was, but we didn't want to say it. Marco and Rachel would have laughed, we figured.

But Cassie just blurted it right out. "It's a flying saucer!"

The kids stand stunned. They nervously debate just what the hell is going on and whether they should run before they find up, right up until the ship lands ten feet away from them. The ship is described as "about three or four times as big as our minivan" and has structural damage as if it's been in a fight.

It's Tobias who attempts to communicate first, and everyone receives a response they can only hear in their minds.

Tobias tried again. "Please, come out. We won't hurt you."

‹I know.›

Telepathic aliens? Nine year old me thought this was amazing. Heck, thirty year old me still thinks this is amazing. I blame nostalgia.

The spacecraft opens and we get our first glimpse of an Andalite. These are our 'good guy' aliens, and look like a blue and tan deer centaur with a scythe bladed scorpion tail, no mouth and an extra set of eyes on stalks on top of their heads. Five stars for quality alien design. No Star Trek style rubber foreheads here.

This did also contribute to the nightmare of costume design that was the not-anywhere-near-stellar Nickelodeon adaptation, but we don't talk about that.

The next section is fairly exposition heavy, which is to be expected. This is the introductory book in a long series. There's a lot of groundwork to lay before the real meat of the plot gets going.

The Andalite is dying, and explains that he's here because Earth is in the midst of a covert invasion by a parasitic race called the Yeerks. Grey slug aliens that crawl into the heads of other sapient creatures and take over control of their brains. Evil space cordyceps. The Andalites have been fighting back against them and their takeover, but they were massively outgunned and lost the battle in orbit. They were able to get a message back to their home planet for reinforcements, but those could take over a year to arrive.

Without anyone else to turn to, the Andalite asks Jake to retrieve a blue box from his ship. Jake also finds a little holographic picture of the Andalite's family in his ship and contemplates how sad it is he's dying so far from home, which upset nine year old me greatly.

The Andalite offers to give the kids a piece of technology to help them hold out against the Yeerk invasion until help arrives: the power to physically transform into any animal they can touch.

No one is thrilled about this. Marco points out “this whole thing is nuts”, which becomes a bit of a catchphrase for him over the rest of the series. He's who you count on to point out when things are getting ridiculous. It's Cassie who agrees first, but before the others can get on board, Yeerk ships appear overhead.

Out of time, they each touch one side of the blue box.

‹Go now,› the Andalite said. ‹Only remember this - never remain in animal form for more than two of your Earth hours. Never! That is the greatest danger of the morphing! If you stay longer than two hours you will be trapped, unable to return to human form.›

Aside from the antagonists, the two hour time limit becomes one of the main sources of tension in the series. Having a countdown on being forced to morph back to human complicates their missions and adds a layer of logistics that ramps up the tension in almost every book to come.

Speaking of antagonists, it's at this point we're introduced to our main villain: Visser Three. The only Andalite to ever be taken over by a Yeerk, and the only enemy also capable of morphing.

I would like to go on record here to say I adore Visser Three. He's a first class graduate of the Disney school of maniacal villainy, with honours in pompousness and chewing the scenery. He's the epitome of petty, vicious egomaniacs. He's Darth Vader on deer legs.

Enemy ships descend. The kids flee and hide. Tobias lingers for a moment beside the dying Andalite before being sent running. The rest of the plot exposition happens while the kids are crouched behind a half-built wall, praying they don't breath loud enough to get caught.

Visser Three disembarks from his Blade ship along with his hordes of underlings. We're introduced to two more alien species, both controlled by the Yeerks. Hork-Bajir: huge bipedal raptor-esque creatures covered in blades from top to toe. And Taxxons: ten foot long centipedes with jelly-like, red eyes, and a voracious appetite for any living thing they can devour.

From the get go, you get the sense this isn't ever going to be a series where the odds are on our protagonists' side. The Yeerk forces are overwhelming and relentless. No-one is considering making a dashing stand against evil and hoping good will save the day. The kids are terrified. It's all they can do to stay hidden and hope they'll get out alive.

Visser Three gloats over the fallen Andalite, taunting him about how his ship has been completely destroyed and no-one else is left. We learn the good Andalite's name, Elfangor-Sirinial-Shamtul, and that he's a Prince, some kind of military hero. He doesn't rise to Visser Three's taunting, and we're treated to the first of the Visser's many classic villain speeches.

‹What do you want with these Humans?› the Andalite asked. ‹You have your Taxxon allies. You have your Hork-Bajir slaves. And other slaves from other worlds. Why these people?›

‹Because there are so many, and they are so weak,› Visser Three sneered. ‹Billions of bodies! And they have no idea what's happening. With this many hosts we can spread throughout the universe, unstoppable! Billions of us. We'll have to build a thousand new Yeerk pools just to raise Yeerks for half this number of bodies. Face it, Andalite, you have fought well and bravely. But you have lost.›

Elfangor's response to this is to whack Visser Three with his tail blade and gouge a chunk out of his shoulder, and honestly? Good for him. Unfortunately Visser Three retaliates by having his ship disintegrate Elfangor's space pod, morphs into a monster that can only be described as a gargantuan mouth on tree trunk legs and eats Elfangor alive.

Yep, you read that right. See, up until this point, nine year old me was still convinced they were somehow going to save the alien and have an alien friend to go with them on space adventures. That's how adventure books work, right? Nine year old me quickly had to learn this series wasn't going to pull its punches. At all. Nine year old me had some growing up to do.

Nerves get the better of Marco after listening to psychic screams of an alien he just met being chewed into kibble, and he throws up, inadvertently giving away their hiding spot. Cue searchlights and armed soldiers. The kids run, splitting up to scrape a marginally better change of some of them getting away. Jake stumbles into an empty building and only manages to escape by literally tripping over a homeless man who the Yeerks murder in his stead. It's not explicit in the text, and Jake hopes the man gets away, but the Yeerks are bringing the heads back for identification. I think it's safe to say that guy is dead.

Jake keeps running and doesn't look back.

[akocomyk]

Twenty-eight books read in 2019.  Sixteen longlisted books.  One person who wastes his time writing sh*t as if they really matter.

Here it is.  The best books I read in the past year.

HONORABLE MENTIONS

The unfortunate books that I had to let go since I only had ten spots to fill.

Turtles All the Way Down by John Green (2017)

Murder on the Orient Express by Agatha Christie (1934)

History Is All You Left Me by Adam Silvera (2017)

The Murder of Roger Ackroyd by Agatha Christie (1926)

Bird by Bird by Anne Lammott (1994)

The Silkworm by Robert Galbraith (2014)

*Ratings range from 1 to 5, with 5 being the highest

━━━━ ☆ ━━━━

10th Place

56 by Bob Ong (2018)

Rating: 4.300

Bob Ong makes a comeback on my list with his latest novel.  His other book, Si, ranked 10th last 2015.  This is the second time a Filipino book enters the list and is also the second nonfiction book ever—after Into the Wild last 2016.

In his latest release, Ong returns to the writing style that made him famous— reminiscent of his earlier books like ABNKKBSNPLAko.  56 is like a 300-page commentary or editorial about the issues of the present Filipino generation.

Other readers have found the book a little too preachy.  I find it enlightening as it serves as a wake-up call to the Filipinos who are turning their blindsides to the harsh realities of our nation.

━━━━ ☆ ━━━━

9th Place

Mga Kirot ng Kapalaran (Kikomachine Komix blg. 11) by Manix Abrera (2015)

Rating: 4.445

This is a long-overdue recognition to my favorite comic strip artist (Fun Fact: I met him quite a few times already).  For many years, I've ignored the chance to even put his works in the list of contenders.  I'm not throwing it away again.  Now, I have my first book to enter the top 10 classified under comics and graphic novels.

In this collection of strips by Manix Abrera, his work remains as humorous and as satirically laughable as the first time I saw his comic. Themes have changed to reflect the new trends and issues of our present society.

For as long as Manix draws and publishes his work, I will continue to read them as I know he gives an intellectual yet amusing input to our society's problems.

━━━━ ☆ ━━━━

8th Place

Mga Batang Poz by Segundo Matias, Jr. (2018)

Rating: 4.450

“Beautiful and relevant, but not flawless,” this is what I said on my review for this YA novel.

Mga Batang Poz is the third Filipino book on this list.  Having three books on the list is a first.  Furthermore, this is also the first time in four years that a Filipino book enters the list.

As previously mentioned, I have certain problems with regard to the overarching narrative of the novel.  I wish that Matias could’ve written something more elaborate or something that doesn’t feel forced.

Nevertheless, the book accomplishes its goal of being a story that advocates HIV awareness, especially towards the youth.

━━━━ ☆ ━━━━

7th Place

The One and Only Ivan by Katherine Applegate (2012)

Rating: 4.485

In this book, you'll see both the cruelty and the compassion of humanity through the eyes of a gorilla named Ivan who is the narrator of the story.

Ivan is based on a real-life gorilla who was being used as a live animal attraction in Zoo Atlanta.

It is quite obvious that the book is meant for a younger audience, but despite this, I know anyone of any age will be able to appreciate it.  Ivan is a gorilla after all, and I think the simplicity of how it was written suits his character, making the tone of the story more natural.

Overall, it was very touching.  Although it mirrors pretty much what happened to the real-life Ivan, it efficiently delivers its message for animal welfare.

━━━━ ☆ ━━━━

6th Place

And Then There Were None by Agatha Christie (1939)

Rating: 4.525

This is a mystery novel filled with suspense and everything that'll make you love and hate it at the same time.  The horror it gives chills you to the bone for every page you turn.

Agatha Christie is insane—and I mean that in a good way.  The plot was so well-thought out that even when nearing at the end, I had no clue who the culprit was.  When it was revealed to me, I was like, “Yeah.  That makes absolute f*cking sense.”

For a book that has ten major characters, it does well in handling them.  You know when a piece of literature is brilliantly made when even if its length isn’t considerably long, it doesn’t sacrifice the characters’ backgrounds and the narrative of the story.

Despite the novel’s inhumane and despicable acts, it also addresses issues about criminal injustices that are still prevalent today.  In our country alone, criminals—corrupt officials, master drug dealers, rapists, murderers—are still roaming around the streets, evading the consequences of their actions.   At times when the law is not enforced properly, people resort to their own type of justice.

━━━━ ☆ ━━━━

5th Place

Darius the Great Is Not Okay by Adib Khorram (2018)

Rating: 4.590

In this debut novel by Adib Khorram, the titular character Darius suffers from clinical depression.  Also, he's a Star Trek and Lord of the Rings fan.

This book demonstrates the fact that real depression is not simply cured by positive reinforcement and bible verses—as what most overly religious people think.

The novel highlights Darius' relationship with the other characters—most especially with Sohrab.  It shows how he copes up with them while he struggles with his mental disorder.

There are also subtle hints of homosexuality, which added to the overall tension of the story since the main characters are Muslims.  It wasn't blatant but it was obviously present—in the right and necessary amount.

To me, this is a spiritual brother of Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe by Benjamin Alire Sáenz—one of my favorite books.  It gave me the same feeling of awe, beautiful pain, and joyful nostalgia. There were parts that broke my heart—I was ugly crying while riding a bus—and by the end, I was a complete mess, although I'm utterly happy.

━━━━ ☆ ━━━━

4th Place

Moonrise by Sarah Crossan (2017)

Rating: 4.595

What I love most about this book is how it was written.  Instead of being in paragraphs, it was written in verses—like poetry.  I thought it was creative and oddly fitting for the story.

Even though there are more blank spaces on the pages than letters, those words are enough to draw me into the story.

The novel is about Ed whose brother was up on death row.  I found myself rooting for him, and I was hoping similarly to how he was hoping in the story.  When the end came, I couldn't help myself from closing my eyes.

The narrative was fairly simple, it matches the way it was written.  The characters—although few and also written with the utmost simplicity—feel so human and are not flat, cardboard cutouts.

In the light of all the flawed justice systems and abuses of law enforcers not just in America but everywhere else in the world, it's good to find a book that's bold enough to address such issues and an author who's brave enough to write them.

Lots of murderers are on the loose, yet there are innocent people being slaughtered for crimes they didn't commit.

━━━━ ☆ ━━━━

3rd Place

On the Come Up by Angie Thomas (2018)

Rating: 4.605

Just when you thought Angie Thomas couldn't write anything as good as The Hate U Give (THUG), she gives us this.  If it's not better, then it sure is as brilliant as her debut novel.

This is Thomas' second consecutive year in my list, with THUG bagging the top plum last year.

The novel is proof of Thomas’s writing prowess.  It successfully immersed me into the life of her protagonist, a life filled with hope, angst, and ambition.  And the dialogue… Especially the rap battles.  They were amazing.  Seeing as Thomas herself was a rapper, you can feel the ingenuity in her words.

Moreso, this is one book that we really need in our present times.  It reflects all of my sentiments regarding social media and how it can make or break a person.  And how much the oppressed and marginalized communities lack representation, and how they are still subject to much prejudice.

━━━━ ☆ ━━━━

2nd Place

A Thousand Splendid Suns by Khaled Hosseini (2007)

Rating: 4.680

This beautiful novel demonstrates the horror of domestic violence towards women.  It also provides a glimpse of the people and culture of Afghanistan during the times of war.

I'm in love with how Khaled Hosseini's characters flesh out from the pages.  You'd love them.  You'd care for them.  Their agony becomes yours.  Their pain drips out from the corners of the books as your tears trail down your cheeks.

And on their sweet, small victories, you'd give a sigh of relief as the anxiety is slowly drained from your body.

In the two years that I've read a book by Hosseini, it didn't fail to shatter my heart. The Kite Runner ranked first in my 2017 list, and now this. If ever get to read another one of his books, I've no doubt it will also be a contender for that year's list.

━━━━ ☆ ━━━━

1st Place

Thunderhead by Neal Shusterman (2018)

Rating: 4.765

This book is also up on my shelf for the best sequels ever—be it for any medium.

I read this earlier this year and it remained unbeatable until 2019 ended.

This is the second book in Neal Shusterman's Arc of a Scythe trilogy, the sequel to Scythe—which placed 3rd in my 2017 list.

Growth and expansion. These are the things I love about the sequel.  Ronan and Citra, the two main protagonists of the trilogy, are older, wiser, and better people, despite the fact that they're teenagers.  You can feel their struggles with their respective endeavors.

Also, the universe is bigger.  The Arc of Scythe novels feature a world where death does not exist and everyone is biologically immortal.  In order to balance the earth’s population, there are these so-called Scythes whose life-long job is to assassinate anyone they choose.

In this sequel, you get to know more about the mechanisms of their world.  There’s a new main character, Grayson, who takes you deeper and gives you a view of what it's like to live as a normal human.

The book deals with the adverse effects of the ways power-hungry people want to achieve their ambitions.

But that's not why I went gaga after reading the book.

IT.  WAS.  EPIC.  The plot twists within the plot twists.  The narrative.  And the ending.  My god, that ending.  I COULD HEAR MY SILENT SCREAMS.  After the last page, the only thing I thought of was, "GIVE ME THE THIRD BOOK RIGHT NOW!"

Thunderhead isn’t flawless, but it’s a very fine piece of literature that I recommend to anyone who loves to read.

• • • • •

I hope I won't regret putting Thunderhead in first place after a few years.  I regret giving the top spot to I'll Give You the Sun last 2016.  After pondering about the books I've read in the past years, I've found that Anthony Doerr's All the Light We Cannot See is one remarkable and memorable book, and the one I should've given the highest honors.

Books with relevant themes dominated my shelf but the book that won my heart was the one with intricate plots and a phenomenal ending.  It feels weird but I hope for the best.

Happy New Year, everyone!

[ship-ambrosia]

Silverlight (RWBY) - Chapter 2

Chapter 2! This fic literally my life rn besides school...

Link to the fic on AO3: Chapter 1

  It wasn’t something she absolutely hated, but she shifted uncomfortably under the gazes bearing into her. Normally, going into bars were nothing to her. Maybe it was because this one was crowded with people she didn’t know. Maybe it’s because she wasn’t searching for her mother this time. Either way she was sure the faster she left, the better.   Was it that obvious she didn’t belong here? Did they all think she was going to try to bust them? She was in the heart of the black market, but she wasn’t stupid. Any wrong move and there’d be seven knives and hatchets pressed to her back. Still, she thought it was pretty clear she was a Huntress and that none of them would be stupid enough to go toe-to-toe with her, but she didn’t particularly want to test it.   She approached the bartender and sat down on one of the stools, resting both arms on the counter in front of her. Slowly, the older woman standing behind the bar cleaning glasses moved over toward her with an interested expression. The busty, crimson-lipped bartender gave her a once over and her smile appeared more amused as she tucked a loss strand of burgundy hair behind her ear.   “Doll, aren’t you a little young to be here?” She asked with a sultry voice.   “I get that a lot. Heard this is the heart of the town. Just here to ask something.”   “You’ll get an answer depending on what it is you want, sweetie,” there was an ominous, daring tone to the woman’s voice now, and the hairs on the back of her neck stood up.   Still, she knew to play coy. “I don’t know why everyone’s so suspicious of me. Just looking for someone selling a bike around here. Working condition, I don’t have time to fix her up.”   The bartender looked her up and down once again, some coldness disappearing from her expression. “We’re just not very fond of people who come around carrying themselves as righteous as you do. But if you’re just here for the business, I think I’ve got something for you. Heard there’s a man on the north end of town who’s got his hand on a nearly brand-new motorcycle. No questions asked where he got it, and it’s yours. Provided you can pay.”   “I don’t think that’ll be an issue. Thanks for the tip, Miss... uh... sorry, I never caught your name.”   “Mathilda,” she answered with a smirk, a sultry gaze fixated on the young Huntress in front of her. “Mathilda Applegate. But don’t go thinkin’ just cuz you’re cute that you can name drop me all over town, sweetheart.”   “Wouldn’t dream of it,” she saluted the older woman with two fingers as she got off the barstool. “Thanks for the tip, Mathilda. Hope I see you around!”   With that, she took one final look around the bar before pushing the door to the outside back open with a bright yellow arm that caught the bartender’s eye for the first time.   “That must be the Branwen Clan’s girl,” the older woman mumbled to herself as the door closed behind the girl with golden hair.   Yang blew out a breath as the doors closed behind her, taking a moment to stretch before continuing on with the information the bartender had given her. If there was no bike, she was going to be really freaking pissed. The whole situation made her miss BMBLB more than anything. Though she could hardly say that she regretted the actions that had befallen her beautiful bike - running over a psychotic terrorist who had tormented her best friend for years and had caused her disability was wonderfully therapeutic - she did regret other things that this was reminding her of. Therefore, the faster she got a new ride, the better.   Her scroll went off just as she had started her trek to the northern side of lower Mistral. Yang walked with a carefree attitude, but unlocked her Ember Celica just in case anyone thought it would be a good idea to jump her while she was distracted.   “Hey sis, what’s up?”   “Oh, nothing. Just wanted to check up on you. You’ve been gone for a bit now.”   Yang laughed. “Ruby, it’s only been a couple days. I think I’ll be okay.”   “I know I know, if anyone would, it’d be you,” her sister replied. “General Ironwood said he wants our ship to Vacuo leaving as soon as possible, though. He doesn’t know we’re only waiting on you.”   “I mean, if he’s going to make a big deal about it, you guys can leave and I’ll catch up. Or just a few of you can go.”   “You know we don’t want to split up again unless we’re forced to,” Ruby said with a downtrodden expression.   Yang felt a sense of nostalgia and guilt twisting in her stomach at that. Though she was perhaps the only member of Team RWBY to pick up and leave everyone behind after what happened at Beacon, Yang knew that mentally, she’d been gone. Ruby had left with Jaune, Ren, and Nora because Yang had not been ready to go with them.   “I don’t want to split up unless we have to either,” she mumbled, before her expression became sunny again. “Listen, I think I’ve found a guy. As long as the bike’s in working condition, I’ll be back on the train to Argus by tonight! Doesn’t that sound great?”   “Yeah, but Yang...” Ruby squinted her eyes on the small screen. “Where are you?”   “In Mistral?”   “That doesn’t look anything like when we were there before!”   Yang glanced around herself before offering a sheepish smile. “I miiiiight be in the bottom levels of the city... where Qrow told us never to go...”   Her sister’s eyes grew wide. “Yang! He told us not to go there because it was dangerous!”   “I know, but where else was I gonna get a bike? Besides, I think I’m okay,” The tone of her voice portraying the actual meaning of her words, I don’t think anyone is going to mess with me, and I’m going to leave as soon as I get the bike so that I don’t test it.   Ruby sighed. “Okay Yang, just... be careful. Please.”   “When have I ever given you a chance to worry?” She offered in a sort of playful tone, watching as her sister’s expression darkened once again. There were plenty of times. Guilt sunk in Yang’s stomach again as she almost found herself sunken back into her memories. Before she could be completely swallowed, however, a sudden commotion behind her caught the blonde brawler’s attention.   “Yang? What is it?” Ruby asked, though her sister did not hear her. Yang had put her scroll down to her side as she turned, where she saw a small group of men huddled around an alleyway. As she watched, one of the men raised a gun to the sky and fired off several warning shots.   “C’mon kid!” The man was laughing. “If you don’t hand everything you got over, we’ll just have to take it from ya!”   “Pretty boy shouldn’t have anything on the bunch of us,” said another within Yang’s line of vision, warming up his fists by hitting them together in a similar manner to her. When he did, she could see sparks from electric dust come off his bracelets.   A familiar sensation made its way to the surface from inside her, of hitting thugs where it hurt when she was just starting out fighting. Of dueling her mother’s bandits on her search for Ruby and the others. Of being tricked and lied to, over and over again by people who just didn’t care about others. She remembered looking into the gray eyes of a man who had lied to her, who had used her, who had turned everyone against her and turned into a damn puppet and laughed about it the whole time. She remembered how much she really, really hated that feeling and her eyes went red.   Were these guys some slimy Huntsmen? Or just low-lifes who got their hands on Huntsmen weaponry? Yang guessed to the latter, since this was the area of notorious black market deals of Mistral. That’s why she was here, after all.   “Yang! YANG!” Ruby was still calling from beside her. She rose her scroll back to her face. Her sister looked concerned. “What’s going on?!”   “I’m fine Ruby, but I gotta go! I have to help him!” Yang explained quickly.   “Wait, don’t-“ she cut Ruby off by hanging up on her and stuffing her scroll back in her pocket. Taking off by letting out a blast from both her Ember Celica and the gun on her prosthetic arm reminiscent of the old days, Yang went flying at the men laughing and firing intimidation shots into the sky.   So much for laying low, echoed in the back of her mind, but as Yang swung her fist at the first asshole she came up on, she remembered that laying low had never really been her style. ~   It had been longer than 24 hours since leaving Salem’s palace, and what a quiet few hours it had been. Mercury wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing. In that time he’d bounced between taverns, keeping his ears open as he listened to the mumbling between tavern drunkards and sketchy shopkeeps for any jobs that caught his fancy.   He had to start from scratch. He wasn’t going to ride on what he’d done for Salem and Cinder, and the idea of using Marcus for legacy left a bad taste in his mouth. That meant he’d need to take the dirtiest jobs he could find, the ones that not just any assassin would take. He figured becoming a regular mercenary wasn’t a bad idea either, since all he knew was how to fight and he saw no point in limiting himself further. Anything that gave him a new reputation and a neutral place in the world, and made it clear that no one could mess with him.   Every voice that triggered a memory made him jump though, every flash of red, green, or gold made him freeze. He was so freaked out at the prospect of being recognized that he hadn’t been able to sleep. This was the life that he was leading now, and he knew he’d have to get used to it. A fake sense of freedom while he ran from everything he had left behind. Mercury was glad he’d remembered his money in his haste to leave Salem’s palace, after getting himself some food and restocking supplies of dust and ammo that he loaded into his greaves. An assassin caught without his weapons was a dead one, though he knew he could overwhelm anyone with his kicks he didn’t want to risk it. Especially with so many people after him.   He was just leaving the shop, and glanced up toward the higher levels of Mistral along the side of the mountain when another familiar caught in his ears. It rattled in his head, causing his breath to catch in his throat.   “Thanks for the tip, Mathilda!” Called the worst possible voice he could hear right now, even worse than Salem’s. “Hope I see you around!”   Mercury whipped around, looking for the source of the voice. Had he imagined it? Was he literally so paranoid at this point that he was hallucinating? If he was going insane though, he could handle that. Anything was better than actually running into anyone. Than running into her.   But then the flash of gold caught his eye. There she stood, a hand on her forehead to block the sun from her eyes as she looked around. Blonde hair just as wild and free as he remembered. Same clothes, with a purple bandana tied around her leg that should’ve given away that it was her. But what really convinced Mercury was the lemon-yellow paint job on her prosthetic arm.   He stood, frozen, for some time, staring at her as if he couldn’t believe she was real. He was staring with his mouth agape too, and vaguely saw people giving him odd looks as they passed by. They probably just thought he was perverted or something, which was perfectly fine by him. Anything was better than being spotted by her.   What was she doing here? Why was she in Mistral? The last thing he knew about her and the others, they’d been in Atlas. They had already gotten the Relic from Haven - he’d chosen to hide in Mistral over Vacuo for that exact reason. Because he knew they wouldn’t be here. What the hell was she doing here?   Mercury finally steadied himself, and backed away slowly. He noticed she had started to walk in the opposite direction with her scroll up to her face, speaking to someone, and he breathed a sigh of relief. This was it, he thought as he watched her form moving further away from him, her golden hair getting swallowed by the crowd of loners and mercenaries. This was his escape from the old life.   But you could ask her why.   The voice was so sudden, so unexpected, that Mercury looked around himself, expecting someone to have crept up behind him and whispered in his ear. When he found no one, he realized that voice was his. The traitorous Mercury had returned, the one who had kept reminding him of her and her arm before.   Before he could even wonder what it was that he wanted to know, it struck him. Before he could even think about what he was doing, Mercury was moving swiftly through the crowd toward. He shouldered people out of his way, just barely holding on to the last he could see of her golden hair. It was as if his feet were moving on his own as he drifted behind her. He couldn’t make out who she was talking to, but he caught some of the words.   “-Listen, I think I’ve found a guy. As long as the bike’s in working condition, I’ll be back on the train to Argus by tonight! Doesn’t that sound great?”   So she was in Mistral looking for someone, and the rest of the team was in Argus. What were they doing back in Anima though? Had Ozpin directed them there? If so, he was incredibly stupid. Going back to Argus was just as predictable as going to Vacuo. Salem would surely go after them there. At least he knew now to stay as far away from Argus as he possible.   “In Mistral?” He heard her ask as he got closer, still keeping distance to prevent her from noticing him and to keep anyone from noticing that he was following her. He had garnered some of his senses by this point, remembering that he needed to be inconspicuous. The question sounded less like an inquiry, however, and more of an effort on Yang’s end to answer whatever the person she was talking to had asked; a coverup, if Mercury had ever seen one.   Finally, he made out the voice on the other end of the call, and Mercury ducked into a nearby alley after realizing how close he was to her.   “That doesn’t look anything like when we were there before!”   Of course it was Little Red, the irritatingly hyper leader of their team and her younger sister.   “I miiiiight be in the bottom levels of the city... where Qrow told us never to go...”   He heard her sister begin to whine in protest, but Mercury was suddenly knocked to his knees from a blow to the back of his head. Stars covered his vision for a moment from the impact as his entire body was immediately on edge, sense of survival alerting him instantly to a group of people having now surrounded him. In a burst of adrenaline, Mercury whipped his body around so that he had a better angle to defend himself from. He finally shook the stars out of his eyes and faced the group above him.   On instinct, he took them all in. Five people, four men and one woman holding what appeared to be a modified falchion. A gunshot went off in his ear, but no pain registered to him. Mercury looked down to his legs, but saw no bullet hole. Instead, the bastard with the gun was just standing there, grinning down at him with the barrel raised to the sky, smoking from his warning shot.   “That’s an awful fancy pair of boots you got, sweetie,” the woman with the falchion purred. “Mind if I have a look?”   “C’mon kid!” The first man laughed when Mercury didn’t reply. “If you don’t hand everything you got over, we’ll just have to take it from ya!”   Mercury geared up into a fighting stance in response, glowering at the thugs from behind his messy gray hair.   “Pretty boy shouldn’t have anything on the bunch of us,” spoke one of the other men, who slammed his fists together. The bracelets around his wrists crackled with electric dust, but what really got Mercury was how much that pose reminded him of the girl he’d been tailing. He shook his head though, pushing her to the back of his mind. This wasn’t about her anymore. This was about his survival on the streets.   A warning shot, huh? What a group of morons.   Mercury lunged forward at the nearest adversary, a third man holding a surprisingly vanilla knife. They were just a bunch of wannabes. They couldn’t hold a candle to the real deal. The knife collided with the armor covering his bicep, and all he could do was smirk at the dumb expression on the man’s face as Mercury swept his feet out from underneath him, and then spun around and nailed him in the cheek with his other boot. As the man went flying, he turned around to face the others.   “You should’ve taken the shot and gotten the upper hand on me when you had the chance,” he mocked, lifting his leg into the air and cocking the pistol in his boot. Before he could take his own shot, a deafening, high-pitched yell echoed back from the main street and sent chills down Mercury’s spine.   A flash of gold erupted in front of his eyes, brilliant and blinding and the combination of the worst possible thing he could imagine in that moment. Her own gauntlets went off as her fist collided with the man holding the gun, sending him flying in a similar manner to what he’d done to the man with the regular knife. Mercury didn’t really know why, but he froze when he realized she’d come to help him.   “Hey, leave him alone you freaks!” Yang exclaimed, before turning her gaze toward where he stood in the middle of the group. “Are you okay ma-“ he watched her eyes grow wide, shock and fury increasing by the second as recognition fell over her. “Mercury?!”   Unsurprisingly, she had come to his assistance without knowing it was him.  He wondered if she was going to regret that punch in the long run. He sure was.   Mercury lifted his chin up in her direction, offering her the same smirk he’d given her when they reunited at Haven Academy. He wasn’t quite sure what was possessing him, but he couldn’t stop smiling.   “How’s it going, Blondie?” ~   The wind that whistled through the valley and the cries of the nightmare creatures being birthed of the pools of tar around the castle were the only noises around as Emerald entered Salem’s throne room. She disliked the palace’s grand view very much, especially since Salem had never fixed the shattered glass windows. Her hair whipped around as she stepped forward, getting down on her knees.   “You wanted to see me, your Grace?”   The witch turned around when she spoke, looking down with indifference toward her pawn. No, at this point Emerald had become at least a Rook. Cinder was the Pawn now. And the loss of one of her Knights greatly displeased Salem.   “I did, yes,” she spoke in that soft tone, the one she used when appealing to her conspirators’ needs. “I wanted to talk to you because it has come to my attention that Mercury has left. You two are rather close, aren’t you? Did he tell you where he was going?”   Emerald faltered, shifting awkwardly. “No, he didn’t say anything to me. And we aren’t that close,” she looked down toward her feet. “We worked together because we both worked for Cinder. And then, you.”   “I can tell when you lie, Emerald,” Salem sounded displeased, but not angry. “You care about him.”   “Only because he’s some of the only family I’ve had. You and Cinder are more important to me.”   “Good,” Salem’s voice came from right above her now. Emerald hadn’t even realized she had been walking closer to her. “I’m glad to hear you say that. Because I have reason to believe that our poor, dear Mercury left with the intention of running away from our cause.”   Her eyes widened at her mistress’s words. “No... no, there’s no way! There’s no way he would walk away from this!”   Emerald immediately flinched, years spent with Cinder instantly reminding her that to speak disbelief, to argue even with the older woman’s best interest in mind was inviting punishment. But Salem did nothing. When she looked up toward the witch, Salem was almost looking at her with pity.   “I’m very sorry to be the one who tells you this,” there was no sympathy in her voice though. Salem, physically, didn’t have the capacity for such a thing. “But Mercury Black has fled. He not only forfeits his place in my world and the desires I would have gifted him, but he has also forfeited his life. I will not be sending you after him, as I have more important things for you to accomplish and I feel that my Grimm will find him soon enough, but you must understand Emerald... if you were to run into him out in the world of Remnant, you are to kill him.”   There was another silent moment of horror as she took in Salem’s orders. She had worked with him, ended up trusting her back to him. He was some of the only family she’d ever had. But at the same time, the news of his abandonment burned an anger within her unlike anything she had ever felt before, even after she believed Cinder had died. When she had been doubting their allegiance, he had scorned her. Insulted her. And he’d constantly made fun of her for caring about Cinder all the while before. Now he had left her alone.   Salem was right, she realized bitterly. Mercury was either with them or dead. He didn’t get a choice any other way.   Emerald closed her eyes and bowed her head very so slightly. “Of course, your Highness.”   Salem stopped at the tone of her voice, turning around toward the young woman with a smile.   “Very good.”

[iamvegorott]

Salt of the Sea Ch. 17

Meanwhile

“These are amazing,” Anti said as he looked at the jewelry in awe. The silver parts were polished,  the gems were reflective, everything about it all was just...beautiful. 

“Thank you, dear.” The woman, Ms. Applegate, said with a smile. “I also make unique pieces for those who ask.” 

“She made the one Dark wears.” Yandere said. 

“You made that for him?” Anti perked up. 

“Well, it was actually for his mother...but that’s a different story.” Ms. Applegate waved her hand.

“Wait, what-” Anti stopped when Ms. Applegate waved her hand again, and when he looked at Bim and Yandere they were forcing themselves to focus on some rings, clearly wanting to avoid the topic.

“Here, sweety.” Ms. Applegate handed JJ a freshly polished chain he had been staring at. “This would be a good gift for courting, no?” That comment got JJ’s face to flush and Anti to tilt his head. “I know those little marks aren’t paint, I’ve been around too long and too much to be that naïve.” 

“Uh...thank you.” Anti scratched at his neck.

“Do you need anything?” Ms. Applegate asked with a smirk.

“Oh! No, no, no!” Anti shook both hands and he glanced at JJ, who was nodding. “No, I don’t!” 

“Is that teasing I hear?” Chase asked with a chuckle as he, Marvin, Robbie, Google, and Bing joined the four. Anti just crossed his arms in a pout.

“Here for your usual, Google?” Ms. Applegate asked. 

“Yes.” Google hands Ms. Applegate a coin and she reached under her little stand and pulled out a simple ring. “Let her know I say hello.”

“I always do.” Google gave Ms. Applegate a smile. “Bing and I are going to head off to see my mother.” 

“Oh, we should probably see our families too,” Bim said.

“Yeah…” Yandere’s mood suddenly went down. 

“Do you want Me and Marv to join you?” Chase asked, knowing that shift. 

“You don’t have-”

“Too late, we already are,” Marvin said. “Robbie, want to come with us?”

“I wanna see a mom.” Robbie grabbed Google’s sleeve. Google stiffened for a second and took a quick deep breath to calm himself. 

“Is that okay with you?” Marvin asked.

“We can handle the kiddo,” Bing said with a chuckle. 

“We’re off then,” Bim said. 

“Anti! JJ!” Wilford was suddenly shouting from outside a nearby house. 

“Looks like we’re all set up for a while,” Chase said, seeing that Henrik was walking with Edward. “If you give Robbie a big drink of water, he’ll be able to last till sun-down.” He said to Google. 

“Okay,” Google said. 

“Be good for them,” Marvin said to Robbie. 

“Okay!” Robbie giggled. 

“And we’re off,” Bing said.

x~x~x

Robbie kept a hold on Google’s sleeve the whole walk to the house. Bing looked around to make sure none of the other crew were able to see them before taking Google’s other hand into his own. 

“I hope she’s doing better than last time,” Bing said. 

“If she’s not I’ll use my part of the treasure to pay for a house helper,” Google said. “The other women are only willing to do so much without any pay.” 

“You’d think they’d do it out of the kindness of their hearts after all your mother has done for them.” 

“Kindness doesn’t put food on the table.” 

“Is mom sick?” Robbie asked. 

“It’s...complicated,” Google said. 

“Complicated,” Robbie repeated. 

“Here we are.” Google stopped in front of a small houses’ door. “Be calm and don’t ask too many questions.” He added to Robbie and waited until Robbie eagerly nodded his head before opening the door. “Ma? Ma, it’s me.” 

“Google? Is that you?” A weak-sounding voice called as the three walked in. 

“Yes, Ma and I have Bing and someone else with me.”

“Bing’s here? Oh, he’s such a sweet boy.” A very elderly woman made her way into the room, slowly heading up to Robbie. “And who’s this little fellow? Did you two finally get a kid? Certainly a silly one. He’s all dirty.” The woman licked her thumb and tried to clean off one of the markings on Robbie’s face. 

“He’s not ours.” Google took his mother’s arm and walked with her, getting her attention away from Robbie’s marks. “We’re babysitting.” 

“Oh? Do I know the parents?” Google’s mother asked, allowing Google to guide her to a chair that was covered in many layers of blankets and pillows. 

“No, we meet them out at sea.” Google waited until his mother was fully sat before sitting himself down near her. 

Bing looked down when Robbie was now tugging on his sleeve. Robbie gestured for Bing to bend towards him.

“Google’s mom?” Robbie asked in a whisper, pointing at the woman.

“Yes,” Bing answered in a whisper as well. 

“Name?” 

“Her name is Cortana.” 

“Cool.” Robbie went back to watching the two and Bing gave him a pat on the head before going over to Google and Cortana. 

“Now, the last time I was here, you said there was a book you wanted to talk to me about,” Bing said to Cortana. 

“Did I?” Cortana looked out at nothing. “I haven’t read a book in a long time.” 

“It has been a good while since we’ve been here. I can go get your books and see if one of them sparks-”

“Shit.” Google suddenly cursed after sniffing and took off. “Shit!” He cursed louder just a second after he was gone. 

“I’ll be back,” Bing said and followed Google. “Well, shit.” Bing found himself agreeing when he was slapped with a strong smell of burning and Google was at the sink, steam hovering in the air as he rinsed out an almost charred pan. Bing went to the gas stove and turned it off. 

“It had to have been sitting there for hours to get this bad.” Google said, dropping the pan with a loud ‘clunk’. 

“The bread’s been bad for a long time.” Bing featured towards what was now just a lump of mold. 

“She’s gotten worse.” Google’s shoulders slumped. “She’s an intelligent woman. She’s the smartest woman I have ever known and now…”

“She’s still smart.” Bing went over to Google, wrapping an arm around him. “She’s just a little forgetful.” 

“This isn’t forgetful, this is dangerous.” Google blinked and Bing could see the tears forming. “What if we were here, Bing? What if Dark hadn’t let us come home early? What if we...she could have...oh, God.” 

“Googs.” Bing slipped himself between Google and the sink and placed his hands on Google’s chest. “Don’t think of those things, we’re here and that’s what matters.” 

“She can’t be alone anymore, I don’t have enough to pay for a live-in but she can’t last until we get the gold. I can’t let her get hurt, I can’t.” 

“I have some extra funds…” Bing moved his arms so that he was rubbing Google’s shoulders, thumbs making circles on his collar bones. 

“What?” 

“I’ve been saving up for quite a while, I was going to get you some upgrades but we can use it for her.” 

“Bing, I can’t ask you-”

“She’s your mom and, if you’ll let me, she’s like my mom too.” 

“I love you, Bing. I love you so much. You’re the best thing to have ever happened to me.” Google pulled Bing in for a tight hug. 

“I love you too, Googs.” Bing hugged back. 

“Cortana like the ring.” Robbie’s voice suddenly spoke and Google and Bing turned towards the entrance to the kitchen, seeing Robbie standing there. 

“Excuse?” Google asked.

“The ring you got, Cortana like it,” Robbie said. 

“The…” Google patted his pocket and found that the ring was in fact not there. “How?” 

“Slippery fingers,” Bing said with a little laugh in his voice 

“You look happy with mom, happy mom make happy you,” Robbie explained. 

“Oh…” Google wasn’t sure what to say or even think.

“We should find one of the others soon to let them know about the job,” Bing said, starting to move away from Google. 

“Wait, first I need to-” Google stopped himself to give Bing a kiss. 

“Was that a thank you?” Bing asked with a grin. 

“That was only the first part, I’ll give you the rest of my thanks later.” Google winked. 

“I look forward to it~” Bing giggled. “I…” Bing let his voice trail off when he saw that Robbie was still there, patiently waiting. “Let’s go talk with Cortana while Google steps out for a little bit, Robbie. She has a lot of fun stories.” 

“Stories!?” Robbie squealed and was easily guided out of the room by Bing, who quickly blew Google a kiss before they were out of the room. 

---------------------------

Tag List: (let me know if you want added)

@takethepainawaybae @shadowkitten0321 @adverseflyer909 @constantgaycrisis @m0th-goo @rainymae523 @rukus-kiss-my-lips-platonically @robot-intestines @phonenix @vociferous-chaos @batsam19 @bapbee @walking-mess25 @voonespelle @madallice329 @grnpurplgrmln @graveyardlettuce @aoimatsurika @nightwillow14 @the-writing-from-space-world @teenwithaphone @hakuna-matata-666-13 @a-star-with-a-human-name

[shalebridge-cradle]

Be Somebody

It’s Spooky Day.

The ceremonial markings are prepared. The crimson candles cast a dull and sinister light over the chamber, as the stomping and chanting of the hooded figures grows faster. They chant in an old, almost forgotten tongue, begging the forces of all that is foul and unholy for their profane blessing. As the thumping of feet grows faster, as the voices of the cultists grow to a scream, a burst of flame materializes in the center of the circle, burning blindingly bright for only a second, before a horned figure takes its place.

One of the cultists, presumably the leader, speaks. “Candeus! Great Duke of Hell, Seer of Past, Present and Future, Procurer of Treasures Both Carnal and Shining Gold, we have summoned thee!”

The devil pauses to think. No doubt the words from its mouth would form a baleful new verse for its worshippers –

“What.”

The atmosphere of the room, the triumph and anticipation, falters for just a moment. Luckily the hoods hide their identity, and by extension their facial expressions. The leader, to his credit, doesn’t seem fazed.

“We ask you for a boon, O Illustrious Duke! We seek your aid in making our fortune!”

A second stanza. “What the fuck.”

“We call upon your power! Grant your conjurers a precious, glittering boon!”

“What the fuck is going on?” And thus, the prayer was complete. “I’m not Duke! Is-is this some sort of prank? An elaborate attempt at blackmail? Are you seriously asking me for cash?!”

The leader turns to his compatriots, who shrug. “I… yes?”

“You’re a demon,” one of the other cultists pipes up, “you can do that, right?”

“We did the sacrifice and everything,” says another.

“You what?” The demon looks down at the bloody markings on the floor, meant to bind it in place, then behind it. “Oh, shit. Oh. Oh my God. What the – Jesus Christ…”

“I thought I did a pretty good job with the seal,” mutters the leader. The other figures nod or murmur in agreement. One pats him on the back.

The demon slowly turns back, surveying the cult with horror and disgust. “You know what? Fine. Fucking… whatever.” It snaps its fingers. “Bam. You all got a billion dollars in your bank accounts, go build a casino or some shit. I’m leaving.”

“Well, uh, we have to properly unbind you and unsummon you first -”

“Nope. Not doing that. Fuckity-bye, freaks.”

And the demon walks out of both the circle and the chamber, unknowing or uncaring of the panicked cries of ‘it shouldn’t be able to do that’ that follow it.

-

The Sherwood Cemetery has its gates locked. Usually, the council doesn’t bother. However, on Halloween night, they’ve found paying for a cheap lock and chain saves them hundreds in cleaning off graffiti, eggs and other fluids from the grave markers and tombs.

Not that it matters. One kick from a cloven hoof, and the gates swing open in a crash of metal on stone.

“Veronica Sawyer!”

The humanoid figure saunters down the lines of graves. Curved horns protrude from its forehead. A pointed tail lashes from side to side. Its eyes are alight with hellfire, glowing in the darkness of the night.

“It’s time for you to face the music,” the demon continues. “It was your idea for all of us to dress up. It was your idea to buy a pair of devil horns. It was your idea to put them on my head after I repeatedly told you I wasn’t wearing a costume! I remember what you were, and if I’m right, which I usually am, you’re here! Come and see what you’ve done!”

An awful grinding, screeching noise echoes from further away. The demon frowns, and sets off in search of the source.

It’s not hard to find; Sherwood isn’t a big enough town for its cemetery to have many tombs. This one has a door of bronze, turned green by time and neglect. The decorations carved into the stone had also been worn away – the proud lions, once regal and intimidating, were nothing more than vaguely cat-shaped mounds on the sides of the vault.

The door is currently being destroyed. A whimpering emanates from inside the tomb, as gnarled fingers pull at the metal gate. It crumples like cardboard, eventually falling off its hinges as the only moving inhabitant stumbles out.

She’s grey, both with fright and from a lack of a pulse. There’s stitches and sutures everywhere, holding her together, like she’d been the victim of every slasher movie villain ever conceived. Clouded, glassy eyes land on her observer, and she straightens, clearing her throat.

“There are dead bodies in there,” she mumbles, gesturing toward the tomb.

“That’s where they’re supposed to be,” the demon replies, arms crossed. “Speaking of dead people, explain what’s going on or I throw you back in.”

The corpse blinks. “…Heather?”

“No shit, Sherlock. You should know. You’re the one who did this to me.”

“I’m the one who did this to…” Any confusion quickly turns to righteous indignation. “I put a pair of plastic horns on your head. I expected to you to sulk for a while, maybe, definitely not this!”

“Well, if you hadn’t insisted on playing dress-ups -”

“It’s Halloween, Heather! You wear a costume, you get candy, it’s entertainment for all ages! It’s not like I forced Heather to hand-sew that sweet witch outfit! I didn’t pick out Heather’s cat ears against her will!”

“We’re not twelve!” Heather snaps back, “Imagine what everyone would’ve thought if we showed up to the party in costume. It’s childish!”

“It’s fun! I know you know how to have fun, Heather Chandler, and I don’t mean by fucking over someone else. We’re not even eighteen yet. Why do you have to act like every social event is a life-or-death situation?”

Heather is about to reply, when Veronica’s face is suddenly illuminated by light. Any righteousness left on Veronica’s face is once again replaced by a mask of fear.

“Hello, officer,” she croaks.

Heather dares to look over her shoulder. The cop, who looks pale even for someone bathed in moonlight, has one hand on his torch and the other on his holster. He opens his mouth, but all that comes out is a choking noise.

“We apologize for the disturbance,” Heather adds, with just a hint of anxiety. “We were just leaving.”

The cop’s countenance contorts further at the sound of her voice, but he manages to get out, “I feel like you shouldn’t.”

“With all due respect, officer, I think the laws of God are out of your jurisdiction.”

The officer puffs up his chest for a moment, and manages to get out half of the word ‘trespass’ before his confidence quickly fades. His eyes flicker to the corpse, to the demon, to his own gun. After a moment’s thought, he shakes his head.

“Let me…” he swallows. “Let me escort you out, then.”

“I’m happy with that. Well? Lead the way, officer.”

“…You go first.”

-

The door closes gently, and two figures trot down the front steps and onto the sidewalk of a quiet street. The first, not quite four feet tall, brushes down her costume with a reverence that a felt pumpkin outfit does not often receive. Her expression, one of excitement and gratitude, quickly morphs into a pout. The second, much taller and with a short yet carefully coiffed hairdo, bends down to examine the contents of the girl’s matching basket.

“That’s mine,” she whines.

“You heard Mom. I have to check your candy hasn’t been tampered with.”

“That was Mrs. Applegate! She teaches kindergarten!”

“You can never be too careful,” the boy replies.

The girl stomps her feet. “Peterrrr, we’re wasting time! You can check later!”

“I don’t understand why people don’t hand out more chocolate bars. The wrappers are much safer, you can tell if someone’s messed with them. She gave you an apple, honestly, what was she thinking? Do you know how many razors you could stick in there? If she wanted to do something nice, she’d give you some money to donate to a charity of your choice.” he pauses in his rambling, then looks up. “You haven’t complained in almost twenty seconds. What’s wrong?”  

The girl’s face is a perfect mixture of indescribable terror and reverential awe as she points. “Look at their costumes!”

Peter looks up, his gaze following the finger. There’s a zombie and a demon, just visible behind the bushes, strolling along and exchanging quiet, heated words.

Peter frowns, then calls out - “Veronica?”

The zombie’s head snaps up, dead eyes wide as saucers. The demon looks at her, and the smile doesn’t reach her eyes as she disappears into the thicket of foliage.

“It is you,” Peter approaches, one hand holding his sister back, “isn’t it, Veronica?”

“Yep. This is me. In costume. And makeup, lots of makeup.” A pause. “It’s Halloween.”

“Sure is. What are you doing back there?”

“Looking for someone.”

“Ask her about her costume,” the girl whispers in her brother’s ear.

“Yeah, yeah, in a minute. Who are you looking for? The devil girl?”

Veronica scowls. “Well, yeah, it’d be nice if she stuck around…” She takes a deep, steadying breath. “But I’m looking for Heather. Duke. We took separate cars, and we can’t find her. You know of any bonfires, or big lakes, or… uh, lynch mobs close by?”

“...I’m sorry, what was that last part?”

“Ask about her costume!”

“She’s dressed as a witch, just wanna cover all areas,” Veronica says quickly.

“No,” the little girl says, butting her way into the conversation with confidence she shouldn’t have, “we’re talking about your costume. How’d you do it?”

Veronica doesn’t answer immediately. She just stares, thrown off, before she points at her eyes. “Contacts.” Her ragged clothes. “Old hand-me-downs.” Her forearm, apparently sewn on with what appears to be exposed bone. “Prosthetics and makeup.”

“She doesn’t know what the word ‘prosthetic’ means.”

“Uh... Fake stuff? Yeah, that’s probably right. It’s fake, zombies aren’t real.”

This isn’t the answer the little girl was hoping for, if the scowl is any sign. She marches up to the zombie and yanks at her wrist, sticking her face so close her nose is almost touching the skin.

“Mary!”

Peter picks up his sister, much to her displeasure - “I wanna see what to do for next year!” Veronica just stands there, stunned, holding onto her arm like it’ll fall off if she lets go.

“I’m so sorry,” Peter babbles, “I didn’t know she was actually gonna grab you. She didn’t ruin your costume, did she? You said it was makeup.”

“Uh, well, I might need a touch-up. Back to my question-”

“No lynch mobs that I know of, but there’ll probably be a lot of bonfires tonight. Try Remington.”

“...Okay. Thanks.”

Peter gives a sheepish smile, and Veronica watches as he wrangles his screaming sister back to the sidewalk.

When they’re far enough away, the demon reappears, sporting a smug, fang-filled grin.

“Still having a good time?”

“Shut up, Heather. I’d be totally fine with her checking out my costume if it was just a costume.”

Heather crosses her arms, incredulous. “You’d seriously be okay with her putting her snotty little hands all over your outfit?”

“Look,” Veronica huffs, spreading her arms wide -

And the limb the girl had pulled drops, dangling, held onto Veronica’s body by a few loose threads.

“Wow!” Heather exclaims, her voice and her smile now filled with fake enthusiasm, “That’s something I really wanted to see tonight - the inside of my friend’s arm! Halloween sure is fun!”

“...We need to find Heather.”

-There’s a bare patch of grass behind the Chi Zeta Gamma fraternity house. At least, there was grass there at some point in the past - while it made a few pathetic efforts to grow back over the summer, parties and hazing and bonfires pulverized it time and time again. Now, it was packed-in, bone-dry dirt.

And, just for tonight, a pile of wood and leaves, surrounded by hollering, staggering young men.

Two girls stand off to one side, inappropriately dressed for the cooling weather. One’s gaze is hard, cynical, while the other’s eyes were wide, either with surprise or fear. Their attention is focused on the gathering.

“They’ve done a better job than last year,” one says.

The other tears her eyes away. “On what?”

“I guess since the party’s on Halloween, they have to make it different. I remember a couple of them asking me where to buy needles after I refused to make it myself. I mean, I know why they asked, but I dunno where they’re sold. Never needed to.”

“What do you mean?”

“Sewing’s for girls, remember?”

The younger one considers this, then points to the thing propped up on the pyre. “So, they got someone to make that for them?”

“Maybe. Last year it was just a bunch of sackcloth and a dollar store hat. At least now it’s human-shaped.” The older one squints. “...Yeah. I don’t think they made that. Looks too good for a bunch of dude-bros with masculinity so fragile you could break it by talking too loud.”

“Shit.”

Both women whip around, shoulders tense, which does not ease when they see no sign of the speaker.

“Maybe we should go back to the sorority house,” the younger quavers.

“Sisters stick together,” the older replies automatically, but her voice is filling with worry. She pauses to think. “I’ll tell them you’re feeling sick, and that I’m taking you back. Wait for me.”

“Fine... fine.”

The younger is already halfway back to the house before the older manages to make her excuses.

All the leaves and garbage in the general vicinity has been piled on top of the wood, and some of the ample supply of alcohol was poured out in memory of the frat house’s missing members (who weren’t dead, just suspended).

“A torch!” one cries, “It’s a witch-burning, we gotta have a torch!”

To general cheering and whooping, he takes a large enough piece of wood and ties his alcohol-soaked shirt to one end. He grins as he looks up at the fake witch they’d made, clad in a cheap black dress and hat, tied to one particularly large piece of wood. For a moment, there is conflict in his drunken mind - it looked good, but he can’t be proud of his part in that.

“A lighter!”

One bounces off his head, to a mismatched chorus of guffaws, and he laughs along as he picks it up. The little flame is lit, he pulls it closer to his makeshift torch -

Someone grabs onto the back of his head. It isn’t the ruffle of hair he might have expected - the hand does not move, does not let go. It squeezes, just slightly.

The babble of the crowd dies. In the distance, he hears a female voice say “Now what?”

All hell breaks loose around him.

“What the fuuuuuuuuck!”

“No no no no no no no, too spooky!”

“It’s a hand, dude! A hand!”

“Whose hand?” The fraternity member looks this way and that, sees his bros running from him, tripping over each other in their panic, but the pressure on the back of his head remains the same.

One of the few who remained behind screams, “I dunno! It doesn’t have a body!”

The former firelighter takes a moment to process this, then he starts screaming, too, as his friend gets behind him and pulls. There’s a tearing sound, the hand drops, and the few remaining partygoers flee the scene.

After a moment of blessed quiet, out steps a corpse. Her demonic companion follows

“Oh, wow,” Veronica mutters, picking up her detached forearm, placing it under the arm that’s still there, then picking up the hand. “Now I’m disarmed and...” she pauses, contemplating, “...unhanded. They’ve unhanded me, Heather. Do you get it?”

Chandler ignores her, clambering up what would have been a bonfire to examine the figure on top. After a quick patdown, she rips off the dummy’s sackcloth head.

Underneath is a girl, already on the edge of hyperventilating, now staring at her dubious saviour with her eyes almost bulging out of her sockets.

“Hey, Heather.”

The captive gapes wordlessly, before deciding on, “Hey.”

“Now, before you ask, no, I didn’t try to kill you. Nor did Veronica. We don’t know who put you here, actually, if your experience was anything like mine. One minute you’re all laughing at some dumb joke Veronica made, the next there are a bunch of satanists asking me for money.” Silence. “Side note, I may have busted the economy.”

“Okay. There’s a lot to take in, there, but - how are you getting your voice to do that?” Duke asks.

“It just does, now. I blame Veronica.”

Veronica uses her severed hand to wave. Duke makes a strangled noise in response.

Chandler presses on. “The more important thing is you can fix it. You dressed as a witch, and since Veronica can pull down an inch-thick metal door with no problems, you can probably cast a spell and make it so this never happened.”

“Maybe that’s why everything’s falling off now,” Veronica mutters to herself.

“What about Heather? I don’t see her with you.”

“We’ll get to her - wait.” Chandler turns to Veronica. “She was dressed as a cat. Would she be a regular cat, or, like, a cat-person?”

“What, like a furry?”

The demon gives her a glare that would reduce any lesser being to ash. Veronica, no lesser being, just shuffles awkwardly.

Duke gives a long-suffering sigh. “Just... untie me. Please. Get Heather, and I’ll see what I can do.”

-

It’s late. The sun is well below the horizon now, but the lights at the ‘Paws for Thought’ Animal Shelter are still shining on. A large sign is taped to the glass door - No Adoptions Today.

A woman, middle-aged and dumpy, the sort of person who looks like they were born to be that way, totters around the reception. She checks every door, examines every kitschy poster, straightens every decade-old magazine on every end table. She nods, satisfied with a job that didn’t need to be done, and takes out her keyring, so full of keys that it could be used as some sort of weapon.

Then, she stops. She seizes, as if her whole body were flinching.

“Ugh,” she says, “this is - I don’t like this.”

She snaps the lock on the front door, sticking her head out.

“Coast is clear. C’mon.”

Two young women enter, exposed under the sterile, flourescent lights. One is dressed in sackcloth, the other has an arm sewn on with some sort of twine.

“I remember this place,” Veronica says, “this is where I got JFK. Geez, still smells the same as it used to.”

“Why did you name your cat after a dead president, anyway?” Duke inquires.

“I didn’t. It stands for Jumpy Furry Kitty. I was seven when I got him, so I wasn’t too great with names.”

“That’s... kinda sweet.”

“That’s not the cat we’re here for,” says the woman, in a harsher tone than she’s probably ever used in her life. “I have about the same amount of keys as the jailors at San Quentin must have. Help me figure out which one opens the door. I don’t wanna be wearing this hag like a skin-suit any longer than I have to.”

“Don’t call her a hag,” chides Veronica, “she’s probably doing her best.”

“I’m a demon, Veronica. I don’t have to be nice.”

It takes them a good five minutes to find which of them opens the door. The woman fumbles for the light switch, and with the buzz of the lights comes a rising chorus of meows.

“We’re looking for a blonde cat,” the woman says, “or a black one. Or a blonde one with black ears. Or, we’re looking in the wrong place entirely, and Heather’s lost in an alley somewhere.”

“Or she’s a furry.”

“NO.”

“I’m a witch,” Duke offers. “Maybe I can... fortune-tell my way into finding the right one.”

Veronica grins. “You’re a witch - does this mean Heather’s your familiar?”

Duke blushes. The woman currently possessed by Chandler snorts.

“I mean, that wasn’t the idea when we - never mind.” Duke straightens, speaks as if she were giving a speech. “If you’re Heather McNamara, can you meow for me?”

The meowing had never ceased.

“Stick your right front paw out of the cage if you’re Heather McNamara,” Veronica calls over the caterwauling.

There are already a number of cats doing just that, hoping to gain some food or attention. Some are angling for both.

“This isn’t gonna work,” Chandler grumbles through someone else’s voice, “just to your little ritual thing here, Heather. If one of these cats is Heather, we’ll find out.”

Veronica’s brow creases. “These cages are tiny. What happens if she’s in one, and she becomes a person again? She’d be crushed.”

“Okay. Let out all the cats. See how that goes for you. You know cats eat corpses like you, right?”

“Hello, Heather!”

All three intruders freeze. The voice is from behind them, and their eyes say they recognize it.

“Hey, Heather,” Duke quavers.

“I saw you going in,” McNamara says from behind them, “you were looking for me, right?”

“Well, of course. We were worried about you.”

“Been a weird night, huh? Like, we were laughing about how much Heather’s devil horns fit her, then I’m in an alleyway.”

“That sounds about right,” Chandler croaks.

“Anyway, I’m fine. I’ve had a lot of fun. Kids love me, they keep petting me when they see me.”

Veronica finally speaks up. “Heather?”

“Hmm?”

“How many legs are you standing on right now?”

“Two, of course. Why?”

The other three share a look, and once again Chandler is trying to kill Veronica with her eyes. Veronica, taking this as a sign, turns.

There’s a regular-sized cat behind them, standing on its hind legs like a meerkat. It blinks up at them with big yellow eyes.

“I can’t decide whether or not this is worse,” says Veronica.

-

A big stone slab stands before the four. A long time ago, the indents and worn-down carvings might have meant something - now they were given use again.

A chalk circle has been drawn, gibberish markings adorning its edges. In the center, there are four small candles, pink and blue, the sort you’d see on a birthday cake and not for use in some dark ritual.

Witches make do.

Duke admires her handiwork, then turns to her friends. “Who wants to start the chant?”

No answer. Chandler idly scratches McNamara’s head.

“None of us know the words,” Veronica volunteers.

“I don’t know them, either. Let me try - what was the Latin? Quaeso ut mihi: in domum suam.”

“Sounds ominous,” Chandler hums, “let’s do it. Heather. Veronica.”

A chant starts up. McNamara trips over her own tongue, but manages to bluff her way along.

A wind begins to blow. Barely a breeze at first, it builds as the girls raise their voices to compete. The flames on the candles change in a whirl of color - red, blue, green, yellow - almost horizontal in the gale forming around them.

Chandler pauses, then checks behind her. through the dust and leaves, she sees figures.

Hooded.

“Contain the Duke!”

“Ah, fuck.”

While Duke and McNamara keep chanting, Duke out of commitment and McNamara from ignorance, more faces end up appearing around their circle - two officers in uniform, a bunch of young men, the plump woman with her ring of keys and a face full of fear. Some try to reach them, but their bodies are tossed back by the wall of force.

“Keep going,” Veronica urges. Chandler pauses, then starts up her chant again.

“Get the zombie! I know that hand!”

“You’re under arrest for trespass and the destruction of public property, come quietly-”

“No, we gotta beat up the zombie first. It ruined our party!”

“Gentlemen, this is a police matter-”

“No one can know what we’ve done - Father Ripper can’t know about this!”

“What did you do?”

“We had a good time -”

“Officer, I’ve been possessed, how do I file charges against -”

The wind ceases. The four are gone, and those that followed are left, empty-handed, in the middle of a forest.

-

10:49.

Chandler stares at the clock, as if willing it to be wrong. No-one else is with her; there’s nothing but the plastic headband and the difference in time to tell her that anything at all happened.

Duke looks down at her costume, exquisitely hand-sewn, sequined and untouched after tonight’s events. She hangs it up in her closet - maybe Heather will let her wear it next year.

McNamara makes use of her newly-restored opposable thumbs to ring as many people as she could. She had an amazing night, and everyone needs to know about it.

Veronica checks her pulse, her limbs, her face in the mirror. JFK saunters in, she scratches her old friend under the chin.

Martha Dunnstock sleeps peacefully, the leather-bound book resting on her bedside table.

It was a fun idea for Halloween. A shame spells weren’t real.

[britishchick09]

i managed to copy another igor article! read it below! :D

10 (or so) questions with... Igor Vovkovinskiy

Written By: Steve Lange | 5:00 am, Jul. 11, 2016                                                  

Igor Vovkovinskiy, America’s Tallest Person (at 7-foot-8), who moved from Ukraine to Rochester in 1989 (at age 7)

Rochester Magazine [horribly butchering the Ukrainian language]:Yak spravy [How are you doing]?

Igor Vovkovinskiy:Good. It’s getting better. I’m walking more. I spent nearly 14 months non-weight bearing after the last surgeries on my feet. I’m weak on my legs. I’m beginning to walk more. It’s getting there, very slowly.

RM:Vy rozmovliajete ukrajinikoju [Do you speak Ukrainian]?

IV:I speak mostly Russian. My mom speaks Ukrainian. I don’t know how that works, but we understand each other. I speak a little Ukrainian, but I’m more comfortable speaking Russian. In Kiev, the school I went to was Russian Language.

RM:You were in the movie Hall Pass?

IV:Someone from the movie saw my documentary ("Help! I’m Turning Into A Giant") on TLC. They emailed me and asked me to come behind the scenes. While I was there, one of the Farrelly brothers, who were directors, sprang on me that the writers had added me to a scene. My jaw dropped to the floor. Hell yeah, sign me up! All of a sudden they’re putting powder on me, giving me a haircut. ... Then I’m off to the scene. Just incredible. I had so much fun. I met Owen Wilson, Jason Sudekis, Jenna Fischer, Christina Applegate.

RM:Was it harder than you thought?

IV:While we were shooting the scene, it was embarrassing because it took me two hours to get my part right. I’m sitting by people who are getting paid big bucks. Owen Wilson is pretending to be passed out on the bar stools next to me. The jokes didn’t go right or the punch didn’t go right. I give so much more credit now that I saw how it’s done. You don’t realize that with each scene there’s 40 people—people for lights, for flooring, for furniture, for makeup, for everything. It was so much fun.

RM:What’s the most embarrassing song you secretly like?

IV:Taylor Swift’s "Shake it Off." It’s a catchy song. I didn’t think I’d like it.

RM:I’ll accept that. I’ve got two daughters, and I may secretly like a T-Swizzle song or two as well.

IV:What?

RM:That’s what the cool kids call Taylor Swift.

IV:OK.

RM:You told "60 Minutes" that when you moved here—as a (6-foot tall, 200-pound) 7-year-old—you thought you were coming here for a month of Mayo Clinic visits.

IV:Yes. But Rochester has been my home since we moved here at age 7. We’ve been back to Ukraine at least seven or eight times.

RM:Your heart is still in Ukraine?

IV:I don’t think it’s something that will ever go away. When my mom and I visit, we get so emotional. Leaving is so hard. We cry for days. It’s something that pulls you over there. It’s a different culture. A different way that people treat each other. Something about it, we deeply miss.

RM:Is this the house you first moved into?

IV:We built this house in 2000. We have the tall doorways, the cathedral ceilings. In the basement the ceiling is at least tall enough that I can walk through it. I can’t stretch my arms, but I can walk. And I have a custom shower.

RM:Best teacher you ever had?

IV:Mr. Tillman. It was Kellogg Middle School. Geography teacher. He knew all the tricks to get you to remember what you needed to remember. A fun guy. Always cracking jokes, telling stories.

RM:Who has the nickname "Huntington Beach Bad Boy"?

IV:Tito Ortiz.

RM:What’s Big John McCarthy’s fighting phrase?

IV:"Let’s get it on."

RM:OK. You really do know your Ultimate Fighting Championship stuff.

IV:Yes. I’m a huge fan.

RM:What’s the last book you read?

IV:The book I finished last is called Escape From Camp 14. Currently I’m reading The Favored Daughter: One Woman’s Fight To Lead Afghanistan into the Future. Also, Supreme Conflict : The Inside Story of the Struggle for Control of the United States Supreme Court.I read European history, World War II history, history in general. Science fiction, fantasy, current events.

RM:Your mom is a nurse at Mayo?

IV:She’s an ICU nurse at Mary Brigh. She loves working with patients. Patients love her. She always fights for the rights of the patients. She’s really a patient advocate.

RM:What’s one characteristic you see in yourself that you got from your mom?

IV:I hope it’s caring for people.

RM:Are holidays similar between the U.S. and Ukraine?

IV:If kids expected to get presents, the kids had to work for it. For Christmas, you had to stand in front of the Christmas tree and recite a poem, do a dance, do something for the present. Kids for Christmas used to dress up in costumes their parents would make them. I remember, once, Mom made me a bear costume. The ears, the head. I had to recite poems. One of the gifts I got was a big set of Play-Doh.

RM:What’s something you’ve learned?

IV:People take everything for granted. Even simple things. I can’t go anywhere with my friends in their car. I can hardly go to anyone’s house because I’m afraid I’ll break their furniture. Their ceilings are low. Their doorways are low. The pain I have is pretty much 24 hours a day. Sometimes it’s so bad I can’t do anything useful. I try to think about something else. Read a book. Skype with my friends from Ukraine. ... So, I think that even the simple things in life, people should be more grateful. Especially, you live in America. Really count your blessings. Really appreciate all of the little things you have.

READ MORE ABOUT IGOR:

After death, America’s tallest man and Rochester’s adopted son Igor Vovkovinskiy wants you to listen

Mike Dougherty: What was biggest about Igor? His heart

Steve Lange: Count your blessings, Igor told us

Igor Vovkovinskiy, Rochester's tallest adopted son, dies at     38

[witchkingkidas]

Day One

  Last night had been another rough one, no matter how rigorous the scrub she applied, the bugs still found patches of exposed skin from which they crawled from and were washed down the drain. This had been almost routine lately, the beauty devoured by the many beasts with none of them being a prince in hiding. The throbbing pain felt on her body was almost unbearable as the hot water flowed from one bruise to the next; something makeup could easily cover, but a cautionary tale for other exploits. It started out so violent, a beating so vicious that it borderlined on criminal if not the initial desire expressed by the hookup the night before. He wasn’t a particularly handsome man at all. Balding, heavyset in that obesity and not that dad bod kinda way, kinda looked like that stereotypical kid diddler type, but his cock was thick in a way she had never before seen. His cum was dried to her hair and face, a crusted reminder of the awful evening and the guy who escaped into the moonlight the very second that he was done breaking his doll, a fucking insult along with the parting gift of what appeared to be a fistful of gold dollar coins scattered on the nightstand as a whore’s pittance for a job well done.

    The entire hotel room smelled like him, a mixture of swamp ass and maybe fungus-- possibly from his sweaty feet-- but it was that dick that she couldn’t get her mind off of. He was the fifth conquest she’d had since reaching the new site for a model shoot, but around the twentieth since being in the U.S. proper. The men here were vastly different than the ones abroad, they fucked with purpose, greasy and inattentive, not like the sleazy charm European men try to put on.   She let the water run a bit longer as she glanced at her arm. The marks weren’t as intense as first thought, a few scrapes and a bite mark, but it felt like so much more. The steam provided her with a moment of comfort, letting it envelop her as she moved to the vanity mirror, the condensation from the steam distorting the image into something akin to a beast or a demon, a perfect reflection of her broken soul she thought. She slowly wiped the glass with her hand, starting at eye level and carefully revealing the full picture swipe by swipe. The hazel contrasted well with the olive tone of her skin; a gift from her half Arabian and Italian heritage. She licked her lips in the mirror, it turned her on to see her own body, dripping and nude. She started to slip her hands down towards her inner thigh as her damp brown hair laid over her shoulders in messy strands, the net  seemingly holding her fragile frame together, kind of like the soft embrace of a mothers arms. It was in this nakedness that she felt most like the devil, a name she had been called a lot in her life, a temptress, leading men and women to nights of sin. She fingered herself to orgasm as a calming washed over her and the vile insects that plagued her only earlier, disappeared without a trace. She sucked on her fingers as she took a comb to her now tangled hair and looked for the violet eye shadow. The day was going to be long since it would be a living forest set, but she embraced the prospect of meeting something else to sink her teeth into, but alas, it was not the time to dally nor daydream.  

   The air felt unusually stiff here in Washington, for a nature state, it had nothing like the crispness of Nantes, but it was far from the strangling cloud that hung over the last shoot in London. America was so enticing, and yet she longed to be back at home, playing in the alleyways of Nantes or exploring Paris for the thousandth time. Homesickness always hit when the madness of her schedule  drove her to picking up cigarettes again. It wasn’t so much of an addiction, as it was one of many comforting tools she used, much like sex, but that may indeed be an addiction though she dared not admit it. “Mornin’ Miss Danbury!” A familiar voice called to her as soon as she crossed the terrace into the chateau du Corisca. The hotel was not far from the shooting grounds so it was easy for her to absentmindedly stroll about the place and take in the new sights of the compound. It was still quite early and yet models were already out and talking among themselves, it looked as if three new photographers joined the team recently and she bit her lip just thinking about taking one or all three for a delicious romp later. “Please” she said smiling sheepishly at the elderly gentleman before her, “I’m sure I’ve told you before to just call me Justine”. The old man looked her over and over, such an exotic beauty she was in an elegant strapless cream dress. He placed his hand upon her arm, a body well traveled and yet a posture so regal and poised. He bent down and reached into a splintering wicker basket and produced a lovely rose freshly snipped from the flowerbed and still with a hint of dew on it. “Every woman needs a rose” he said, and placed it in her hair just between the spot on ear and they spoke at length about today’s shoot. Apparently the project, once headed by Lady Applegate and her cosmetics company Applegate Cosmetics, was now to be completed by the young and talented visionary Ian Tillers from South Africa. He was causing quite a stir with the ladies it seemed which would explain the various cliques chatting about, but he was nothing if not a man for the business. Right now it was said that he had been in the garden all night perfecting the grounds for a perfect shot, each idea more fantastical and wondrous than the next and each new idea increasing the budget tenfold, but in increments. The ladies chosen for his special shoot, the “nude paradise” were to be posted on a board later that day, a list Justine would love to have seen herself on.

   Waving bye to groundskeeper Roy, she observed the digital clock pressed up against a large white column and noticed that she still had some time to get into a bit of trouble if only she could find those new photographers and a proper place away from prying eyes to do so.  The area was really beautiful, a hedge maze behind the building, a creek running to its side, it was a masterpiece of Gods design tucked beyond a sea of trees separating it from the road and nearby town. Across the grounds at the creek a little ways into the woods a man stood and he immediately caught her eye, someone else new that she had never seen before today though she had felt at least acquainted with everyone, probably a lackey for Tillers. He was half shrouded by leafy branches which drove Justine’s curiosity even further as she neared him, careful not to snag the dress on anything that would cause an immediate stir and a lecture on proper model behavior.  The man appeared to be petting what appeared to be a small doe grazing from his outstretched hand, a sight that left her in awe and wonder since it was just something that she hadn’t seen in years. He had deep brown curtains-- a relic of nineties hairstyles-- more messy than straight over a slender and pointed face, his jawline was medium and boyish, his nose slender and rounded at the tip. He sported a very neat and short mutton chop and skin that showed limited exposure to sunlight though it wasn’t pasty white. Surely he was in his late twenties at the youngest, but his angelic features spoke to being far more youthful than that; regardless, she approached him.

  “Excuse me,” Justine blurted out the words as she moved closer and closer, managing to startled the wildlife in the process including the doe who appeared to shoot her a look before bounding off into the woods. He let out a low whistle as he began brushing the grain from his hands and readjusting his silver bands-- one for each finger aside from the index which housed two and on the other hand a lavish signet ring-- he glanced at Justine for what felt like a second, but for some reason she felt as if he was gazing at her entire lifetime. His eyes were unsettling, he made no attempt to speak and yet Justine felt her ears ringing with conversation.. She hated this feeling, the unfamiliarity of not being able to get a read on a person. After a series of awkward pauses, Justine gathered herself and tried to initiate conversation with him once again, “I apologize for interrupting you,” her eyes locked in on his smooth face, but she was so shy, she resorted to circling her thumbs ever so slightly to calm her down but to not call attention to it. “I’m Justine, a model on this shoot. I didn’t recognize you from any of the other days so I take it you’re with Tillers?” She smiled and laughed, hoping to break the ice if even for a bit. “Marius” his voice was as soft as the wind, eyes fixed, purposed, forever reading. “Is that a mauve rose pinned behind your ear?” though monotone, it was the just the perfect blend to whip her emotions into a frenzy. At his words she instinctively reached for it, forgetting that Roy had given it to her just earlier, but before she could, Marius grabbed her hand. Justine instantly blushed but didn’t try to pull away. His silver rings were cool to the touch as was his hand as he slid her hand back down toward her side before adjusting her hair with the other hand.

  “You have an air of grace about you, yet you are far less careful than you appear..” His voice trailed off a bit while still being assuring if not haunting. Every word spoken was with purpose, each sentence weighty and multilayered though also surprisingly flowery. “Your eyes wander when you speak, that element of shyness within you wouldn’t be much of a boon when mixed in a field which requires only the most bold and daring.. Interesting.” He removed the rose from her hair and looked upon it with a portentous gaze, it was weird because though he stood in front of her, she could tell that somehow he was miles away. Justine was taken aback by the way he spoke, it was like something out of a Dickens novel or Keats, a man displaced in time from the old country, his accent hard to place but very much foreign. “You see..” He started again, almost silently acknowledging the many questions swirling in her mind while still lost in his own affairs, “Like this rose cut from life to sit betwixt your ear, the colour is striking in its softness no?” His words hit her one after the other, Betwixt? Softness? He must be an alien brushed up only as far as the Victorian Era before being cast down to us. “You would believe that such a union would be quite garish would you not? That the harshness of the violet would overtake the subtle pink, but here it blends perfectly.” His fingers moved across her hand as he handed the rose back to her, the feeling so smooth and childlike against the roughness of her knuckles and the firmness of her palms. He had such innocence in his touch, more inquisitive if anything and with no sexual tension though she could feel her knees buckling all the same. Before she could utter another word, the chime of nine started to play through the loudspeakers and Marius let her go and proceeded to fix her up a bit before turning to go elsewhere. “Will I see you again?” Justine couldn’t help but feeling like a love struck schoolgirl as he just walked away with only a backwards hand wave.