#Rufus can bring his cat back to the house now

[remythelad]

Okay, reanimator fandom I have a wonderful proposal for you

So instead of the third movie (the one we don't talk about) We get the typical movie intro where Dan and Herbert are living together and this time instead of homo subtext it's full fucking text. Now Dan is paying more attention to Herbert and we see this all from Dan's perspective as he notices Herbert is very careful to not let him see this one journal so naturally Dan investigates. In the journal it talks about a failed expirement that is just called 'East'.

Dan being naturally curious wants to bring this up to Herbert but decides not to because he snooped to find the journal.

So that all comes to a head when one day some kid who looks like Herbert shows up at their doorstep. The kid introduces himself as "Berbert East". Herbert takes one look at the kid and goes into homicidal mode. Dan pull feral Herbert away and Herbert gives the infodump on what this kid is. It's a failed cloning experiment from when Herbert was younger.

Dan immediately decides that they're taking the child in and so Berbert joins the family group. The rest of the movie is set up like a hallmark movie where Dan decides that Herbert just needs to learn that he and Berbert aren't so different. During this there are dramtic flashbacks to Herbert's past where he being a young child felt the need to have a lab partner only he himself was the only person he trusted to be good enough to be his own lab partner. That backstory is also why Herbert doesn't like christmas.

Dan shows them that they aren't so different by having them reanimate a corpse together and that's when Herbert learns the true meaning of Christmas and then OH NO the lights on the christmas tree malfuncition and the house gets lit on fire which is how Herbert dies at the end of this movie.

In the middle of the credits, not the end, there is a scene that shows Dan fishing Herbert and Berbert out of the fire. Herbert get inject with the reagent mirroring the end of the first movie.

That leads directly into the sitcom. Where now that Berbert is all grown up he has a husband named Danny and Berbert does some science shennanigans and they now have a son, Gerbert South. Gerbert isn't like his father and grandfather, he is a bit genetically different having grown in a somewhat safe enviorment with Dan and Danny to keep him somewhat mentally "normal". So Gerbert, being a teenager, wants to prove himself and he pulls out Rufus, the cat corpse that is somewhat a family heirloom, and he reanimates it. Then the episode's B plot is Rufus getting into trouble being the fact that he's a zombie cat and the A plot is whatever shenanigans the three generations of the family get into. There is also a plot throughout the first season where Gerbert falls in love with a kid named Daniel. The end of every episode is one of the Dan's hitting Rufus with a snow shovel and then Herbert dies and gets brought back to life. Every single time Herbert dies there is some scar left behind and by the end of the season Herbert looks like a zombie. Whenever Herbert dies there's a laugh track and Dan gives an exasperated sigh.

I should be given the rights and nine million dollars to make this come true, please ask me questions so I can talk about this more.

[wayward-verse-blog]

A sigil that witches branded Sam with. Attached to the alchemical symbol for winter is the symbol for the phrase: “This object is unnoticed and its contents obscured.”

[boldlyvoid]

Amoreena | Chapter Five

Chapter Five

main summary: Heaven is a real place and it's located exactly 14.6 miles away from the FBI, Quantico Headquarters. Off behind a small park, under a fantastical willow tree surrounded by wildflowers, in every colour young minds can imagine.

Don't forget, heaven also comes with angels.

Chapter Summary: (fluff only) weekly Saturday reading only they are joined by an extra 15 lost boys, not just Spencer

Warnings (adding as they happen): fluff, hurt/comfort, depressed spencer, reader has a daughter, falling in love, strangers to lovers, library smut, oral (female receiving) lots and lots of fluff

word count: 3K

from the beginning <3

He woke up Saturday morning to the sound of a bunch of voices coming from beyond the walls of his room. Only it wasn’t his room, it was the room he slept in when he stayed with Y/N and Amoreena, he hasn’t left since he arrived on Thursday and he had no plan to either.

They still hadn’t told her about their relationship, not wanting her to come crawling into bed with her mom in the morning to find Spencer there too. She wasn’t ready to explain to Amoreena what it meant for Spencer to be in her bed, how they were in love and that she might need to learn how to knock before entering.

So he slept in the spare room, completely contently because he knew she was only on the other side of the wall, instead of 30 minutes away like she would be when he slept at his own apartment.

It had been a week since he saw them reading in the park, and now they were his family. It was incredibly fast, anyone who heard the news would say so. But that’s how his life worked, he blew through everything incredibly fast, it only made sense for him to skip every step in the book and become a stepdad overnight.

He woke up then, missing Y/N and Amoreena as he thought about the last week. Finally getting dressed and peaking outside, through the crack in the blinds, to see what was going on on the farm.

There were a bunch of men in the field with the cows dropping new cattle off in a big truck as a bunch of children ran around the yard. Y/N wasn’t kidding when she said her 7 siblings had produced 15 cousins for Amoreena to play with. Children all between the ages of toddler and 7-years-old, screaming while they ran after Rufus and the cats, it was a pure dopamine rush to witness.

He found Y/N in the living room, a book in one hand and a coffee in the other, “good morning cutie, all the ruckus on the farm wake you up?” She did her best fake southern accent as she smiled at him. Beautiful as ever in the early morning sunshine.

He nodded with a yawn, sitting beside her and snuggling into her shoulder. She placed her mug in his hands so she could wrap an arm around him and pull him in closer, letting him take a sip of coffee and become a real person again.

He noticed she was reading a book he had never seen before, reading the pages and not know the words. It was a first for him.

“What’s that one about?”

Y/N closed it to let him look at the cover. It was a hand-bound book, wrapped in green fabric that was at least 30 years old and in well-loved condition. The gold lettering reading Amoreena, along with a pressed gold rose and the author's name. He had never heard of it before.

“My grandma was an aspiring writer and the reason I love books so much, her name was Peggy and she had a dream once about a wonderful little girl named Amoreena and the magical life she created for herself. She wrote it all down and my grandpa had it typed and bound for her, she was so proud of this book,” Y/N gushed, smiling as she held it to her chest softly, thinking of all the memories Spencer didn’t know yet.

“Really?” Spencer couldn’t help but smile at her.

She nodded softly, “she loved Elton John, so much so that when my sister Ashley came out she threw her a party. Almost all those kids out there are Ashley's, by the way, she went down the adoption and foster root after I did IVF.”

She pointed out the front window at all the people gathered on her land, “Ben and Dylan dropped their kids off too while they help dad and Evan with the farm. Those are my brothers in case you didn’t know their names yet, there’s also Carver and Francis but they don’t live as close.”

Her little life was just so perfect, “did they want to come with us to read this afternoon? We need some lost boys.”

“They’d love that, are you sure you can handle 16 kids between the two of us?” she smiled, pure love spreading through her body as she held him.

“They’re not so different from psychopaths right?” He teased, watching her settle against him even more as they enjoyed their Saturday together.

“What else can you tell me about your grandma?” He snuggled into her more as he asked, wanting to know as much about her happiness as possible.

“She was always listening to music, she loved Elton's song Amoreena the most. It was the song she played for the majority of my childhood. It only made sense for me to name my little miracle Amoreena too, cause I wouldn’t have her unless nanny suggested I have a baby.”

“I would have loved to meet her.”

Y/N’s smile changed then, “she would have loved you and your big mind.”

“My mom wants to meet you and Amoreena,” he announces softly, he hasn’t really told her anything about his family yet.

“What’s she like?”

“She has schizophrenia and Alzheimer’s and she lives in a care home in DC right now, I try and see her when I can but she has her own schedule so I have to fit around when she’s having a good day,” it was hard to explain it to most people, but not to her. He didn’t feel any shame or fear in introducing them. Y/N was the most loving human, and Amoreena was just the same.

“When is she free next?” A simple question that made him feel incredibly giddy.

“Tuesday from 3-5,” he snuggled in closer to her as she wraps her arm around him.

“We’ll pick Amoreena up from school after work and take her over,” Y/N agreed, their lives intertwining like they were always meant to.

Like she was the ivy on his old cottage, she took him in and made him her own, wrapping herself all around him and never letting him go again.

He basically finishes her coffee while she holds him on the couch. The sound of the kids outside making them laugh every once in a while, dogs barking and cows mooing, the farm was alive and roaring while they enjoyed each other's company.

“Did you bring your costume for the reading today?”

He sat right up then, looking at her like she lost her mind, “of course I did, I wouldn’t have Penelope spend a week tracking down a Captain Hook costume just to forget it.”

Y/N’s jaw dropped, “you didn’t?!”

He simply nodded with a cheeky grin, “come on Tinker Bell, everyone knows she had a thing for Hook.”

“Who didn’t? He was the first and last bad boy I was interested in, I typically go more for Milo’s and Ariel’s; full of adventure and always learning something new,” Y/N teased him.

“Mhm, I always had a thing for Aladdin and Belle in search of far off lands and happy endings,” he mused, making her smile just as much as he was, “but for real it was between Hook and Wendy for my costume,” he made her laugh again, wanting to hear it for the rest of time.

“You still can, I have a blue nightgown you can borrow,” it was so easy for them to flirt, it fit into their conversation so simply it felt like they had been together forever.

He couldn’t help leaning in to kiss her, resting her back against the couch softly as she held onto him. He loved kissing her, she tasted like coffee and happiness every single time. She made the cutest sounds when they would make out like she was surprised by it or she wasn’t used to it at all.

She made him feel like he was young again like he was 21 and in love for the first time. All his trauma disappeared and that Spencer who used to stare back at him in the mirror was gone now. That guy packed his bags and left the farm to never be seen again.

Good fucking riddance is all he had to say.

He was happy, he enjoyed being happy and he was going to stay happy. It was the only goal he had going forward, and as long as he was in her embrace, surround by the laugher of her child and family, he knew it would be possible.

Amoreena came running inside then, finding the two of them making out on the couch before they could part from each other.

“Ewww!” She cried, jumping on top of the two of them and knocking the wind out of Spencer.

“Get off,” Y/N tried to speak as she was crushed by the two of them. “Mom down!”

Spencer picks Amoreena up then, taking her away from the couch and spinning her around like she’s an airplane. She cheers and cheers and doesn’t want him to put her down because it’s so fun. The next thing he knows he’s being dragged outside to twirl all the kids around like they’re Peter Pan, flying through the air on their way to Neverland.

He’s surrounded by giggles and tickles fights, he’s tackled down against the dirt as a herd of tiny children dog pilled him. Laughing until he cried, feeling more joy than humanly possible and then Y/N’s telling them all to get ready to he’d to the park.

Coming down the stairs in a pirate costume to a bunch of screaming kids was an experience and a half. Spencer couldn’t believe how happy it made them all to imagine Captain Hook had broken into the house and Amoreena, or Peter Pan as she corrected him, chased him outside with all the lost boys.

He took a moment to learn all their names, all 15 of them, however, unlike the cats, they had relatively normal people names.

Kate, Cade, Jet, Lauren, Cassie, Sara, Evan, Benny, Olivia, Jessie, Owen, Maddie, Gwen, August, and Parker, were the cutest little family of cousins. some looked like Amoreena, some looked like their own mothers, a handful of them were adopted out of the country, they were the most perfect cast of lost boys.

He's never had any cousins, no pets, no siblings. His life never felt lonely until he realized what he missed out on.

“Dad,” Amoreena whispered as she tugged on his shirt lightly, “look!”

She pointed towards the house where Y/N was standing. When she said she was going as Tinker Bell he really didn’t think she meant looking exactly like Julia Roberts at the end of Hook.

She looked magical in her beautiful white dress, curly hair with the most perfectly placed flowers and flawless wings wrapped around her shoulders. She was a vision standing on the porch, waiting for him to pick his jaw up off the floor and compliment her.

“Tink,” the words are more like air, soft and barely there.

“Is Captain Hook being nice? Or should we take him to the pond and let the Alligators deal with him?” Y/N teased, marching down the stairs and poking Spencer's chest.

“Ouch,” he teased her, holding his hand over his heart to make her feel bad.

But she didn’t, “some Pirate you are,” she teased, sticking her tongue out at him before taking Amoreena’s hand and running off down the trail towards the main house, everyone following her lead.

Nanny packed enough snacks for all 16 kids, and a little extra just in case. Spencer slipped the lunch box over his shoulder and they made their way towards the adventure. Y/N pulling a wagon just in case the littlest ones didn’t want to walk anymore. It was spectacular.

Y/N stopped then, pretending to stand like an army man turning around abruptly to look at the troop. “Lost boys, are we ready?”

“Yes, Tinker Bell!” They cheered back.

“On my lead, 1, 2, 1, 2, 3, 4,” she marched, bringing her knees up high as they all followed her down the path. “We’re following the leader, the leader, the leader,” she began to sing.

Spencer was in awe, his heart felt like it was going to explode as he watched everyone follow her. Singing along as they marched their tiny little butts down to the park.

“We’re following the leader wherever she may go!” Amoreena yelled the lyrics back, leading the pack as Peter Pan should.

“Tee dum, tee dee, a teedle ee do tee day Tee dum, tee dee, it's part of the game we play Tee dum, tee dee, the words are easy to say Just a teedle ee dum, a teedle ee do tee day

Tee dum, tee dee, a teedle ee do tee dum We're one for all, and all of us out for fun We march in line and follow the other one With a teedle ee do, a teedle ee do tee dum”

It was like magic, they all knew the words and they sang the whole way down the path. Every verse and then repeating it. Not a single kid strayed from the path, no one complained about sore feet or hot backs, they loved their Aunty Y/N and so did Spencer.

“We’re off on an adventure, adventure, adventure,” Y/N changed the words, making him smile as she brought happiness into the world. “We’re off on an adventure to read out in the sun! Tee dum, tee dee, a teedle ee do tee day…”

Every single time he thought she had given him the best day of his life, she manages to outdo herself.

—

They barely listened to the story, it was a disaster of epic proportions but they tried. 15 kids is a lot to handle as an ex FBI agent and a librarian, they had lunch and instead ran around the field playing lost boys instead. It was still an amazing afternoon.

He was going to be covered in bruises the next morning. He had been kicked, poked, trampled, jumped on, the whole 9 yards. They were the most energetic bunch in the whole world, and then they came home to ice cream.

“Y/N,” Spencer finally pulled her aside when all the kids were preoccupied with their cold snack after a hot day.

“Yes, cutie?” It was a nickname that was sticking, much like pretty boy, and he didn’t mind it at all.

“We’re going to need more than 2 songs tonight to get her to go to bed,” he teased, stepping into that step-dad role with ease.

She couldn’t stop smiling at him, wrapping him up in her arms gently so he didn’t crush her fairy wings. “We’ll take her swimming, that’ll tire her out instead. Are you lookin’ for some alone time?”

“I love her dearly, but I can’t kiss you as much when she’s around,” he whispered before pecking her quickly and hearing the group of lost boys pretend to be sick.

“Just because he’s my dad doesn’t mean you have to be gross like your mom and dad, mom,” Amoreena’s smart mouth making them both shake their heads and laugh.

“What would you do if I did this?” Y/N teased before dipping Spencer back like a princess and kissing him, he stuck his foot out in shock as she held him there.

“Ewww!!” All the kids yelled as she returned him to his feet.

“Or this?” Y/N pulled him into another kiss, her leg popping like Princess Mia’s in the princess diaries.

Amoreena and her cousins were all screaming then, laughing at how gross their aunt and her new boyfriend were being. Used to it clearly, their grandparents were just as in love and watching from the porch as they held each other on the swing.

“I love you,” Spencer announced, loud enough for all to hear without a care in the world.

“You better,” she smiled. “I love you too, cutie,” she added before kissing him one last time.

His life felt perfectly complete.

Y/N’s brothers were incredibly kind just like her. He learned that Ashley was the oldest with 5 kids and her wife Susie, then Ben who was 46 and his wife Shannon, they had 3 kids. Dylan and Laurie had 4 and Even, her twin brother had 3.

Turns out her mom had 2 sets of twins back to back, 7 children and only 5 pregnancies. It felt crazy for him to think about having that many people in his life for his whole life, he wouldn’t have known what to do with anyone more than just his mother growing up.

Spencer helped Bob with the barbecue, they made burgers and hotdogs for all 16 of the children while they continued to run through the fields. They had enough energy to last them 5 straight days of chaos. It was amazing.

Y/N and Spencer managed to wander off while all the kids ate, sitting under a tree with their dinner so they could finally have some time alone together.

She was beautiful, sitting in the afternoon amber glow as she tried to keep her hair from blowing in her face. Tucking the strands behind her ears so she could eat her dinner in peace before spencer handed her the hair tie on his wrist. Then she got ketchup on her cheek, seemingly on purpose as she smiled at him and laughing as Spencer wiped it off with his thumb. He was so in love he felt stupid, smiling at her like he’s never seen another person before, absolutely enamoured.

“Derek and his wife wanted to come over tomorrow and have his son meet Amoreena if that’s okay?”

Her face lit up, “his son is the one named after you right? Not your godson?”

He nodded with yet another smile, his lips were going to fall off at this point. “Yeah, he’s the sweetest little guy, Hank’s never been to a farm before.”

“You tell them our gates are always own to new minds and pure hearts,” she smiled. “That’s what nanny used to say.”

He leans in and kisses her then, resting his forehead against hers as she held his cheek in her free hand, smiling ever so softly as she stared into his eyes, they didn’t need words, he knew she loved him too. A week of pure bliss had passed within the blink of an eye, and they still had forever to go.

Taglist: @shemarmooresfedora @spookyspence @spencers-dria @manuosorioh @reidsfish @mochionly (send me an ask if you want to be added to the tag list, I don't always see every reply! i love you guys thank you so much for reading)

[queen-yalo]

FFVII | Headcanons | Finding a stray kitten

Request:  Hi sweetie!! Can I get a scenario for Rufus, Rude, and Tseng where their s/o sneak in a stray kitten they found somewhere random on a rainy day, while the guys are away at work. And the kitty just gets really attached to the guys for some reason. After they accidentally find out about the kitty's existence of course ♥️ Lets face it though hiding a kitty is hard, especially if they are loud lol Enjoy your 3 week vacation by the way!!! [by Anon]

A/N: That three week vacation was in July. Look at me. Not writing stuff for months. Who even am I. :( Hope you enjoy! ♥

Pairing(s): Rude x reader; Rufus Shinra x reader; Tseng x reader 

+++

• Everything was perfect. You got the food, the litter box, the scratching post, catnip, a comfortable little bed... your tiny companion should absolutely feel at home. The only problem was... you had no idea how to tell Rude about the small addition to your household. You never talked about getting a pet because actually you never felt the need to. Yes, cats and dogs (or any animal for that matter) were cute, but you never thought about actually adopting one. Plus, how could you decide between those many animals that were looking for a forever home? 

• Well, in this case you didn’t have to decide. The kitten decided for you. You heard it crying in the rain, looked at its tiny and soaked frame... and just knew you had to take it home. It felt like it was meant to be. After a quick checkup at the vet you learned that “it” was actually a “he” and “he” was very healthy. Just wet and hungry... but that was something you could fix very easily. 

• Which got you into the situation you were in now. Sitting on the couch, the little kitten wrapped in a blanket while you were bottle-feeding it. You knew Rude was due to come home every minute now. And you had still no idea how to break the news to him. But as it turned out... you didn’t have to. The moment your heard the keys in the lock you jumped up, running to the door, ready to sweet talk Rude into letting you keep the kitten. You knew you had to choose your words very carefully. But as soon as you opened your mouth you were interrupted by a high pitched meow. 

• The little guy climbed down the couch and followed you into the hallway, running straight into Rude’s direction and climbing up his leg as soon as he reached him. Rude was dumbfounded. There was... something.... crawling up his leg. His first instinct was to kick it off, but when he heard another tiny meow, something inside him told him to freeze.

• At first he wasn't too happy that you just took a stray animal home. But when you told him the whole story and when he realized the little guy was glued to his side, his cold demeanor slowly melted away, making space for a very giddy and very entranced Rude. In mere hours Rude became not only very soft for the little rascal. He also suggested to get another one because "He can't stay home alone all day, can he?"

• "The fact that my hand is on her back means nothing." Rufus glared at you when you came into the living room, looking at him and the kitten on the couch in awe. You quickly left the room again as to not make the tension inside this apartment worse than it already was, ever since Rufus came home. You didn't even try to hide it. As soon as he stepped into the house you proudly showed him the little furball that you found outside.

• At first Rufus was livid. How dare you just pick up a stray animal and take it home - bring it into both your lives like it wasn't a 20-year-commitment? What were you thinking? He told you to get rid of it, which you refused to do. So after a pointless and unnecessary argument you agreed on finding it another loving home. Rufus was fine with that arrangement... or so he thought.

• Now as he was petting the little floofer, he wasn't too sure of that decision anymore. He hated to admit it, but she was tugging at his heart-strings - and he didn’t know if he liked it. He didn’t like it, when something or someone was able to break his cold and aloof facade. You were the first person that was able to do it and that was already more than enough, wasn’t it?! But now, this little fluffy kitten was using him as her personal resting place, as she clumsily climbed onto his lap, and he knew he was a goner - even though he didn’t like it.

• You were wise enough to not say anything when you saw him watching her sleeping on his lap, his eyes soft and full of adoration. It was a rare sight to see Rufus so calm and gentle. But you also knew, that Rufus didn’t like to be called out on that. So instead, you just decided to watch silently and smile to yourself. Of course Rufus noticed you staring. But he too didn’t say a thing. What was he supposed to say? Everything he could say was already known to you. He lost the fight. 

• "So...” You started after a few minutes. “Would you happen to know someone who wants to adopt a kitten or do I have to start the search from scratch?” You grinned slightly as Rufus glared at you from the couch, his hand still petting the kitten softly. “No, you don’t.” He mumbled quietly, laying the kitten onto his chest gently as he laid down. “You’ve won. She can stay.” 

• You were anxious. Saving and taking home a kitten was one thing. Telling Tseng another. He would freak out for sure. It wasn’t that he didn’t like animals, he did. Just not… inside the house. But that was exactly what was going on right now. You brought a kitten home without asking or telling him. And now as you were shopping for kitten-stuff you were trying to think of a way to tell Tseng. Yet, no matter how much you thought about it… nothing was coming. 

• Your heart stopped when you unlocked your door and realized you only had to turn the key once. Someone was already here. No, not someone. Tseng. You checked the time. He wasn’t due to come home for at least another two or three hours. You gulped. Maybe you were lucky and the kitten hid somewhere even Tseng couldn’t find it. 

• You weren't lucky. Tseng stood right behind the door, kitten in his head, glaring at you. “Care to explain?” He asked sternly. You bit your lip sheepishly and took the small kitten from him. “I found him in the slums... he was all alone, have some mercy.” You pleaded, cuddling the little fluffer. Tseng rolled his eyes. “I told you times and times before that I don’t want animals inside the house. What’s so hard to understand?!”

• You assured Tseng that it would only be for a little time, until you found another home for him. He agreed reluctantly. But he wasn’t really happy about it. You feared that the next few days would be the longest of your life. The atmosphere at home was more than tense. Until... something changed. You didn’t know how and you didn’t know when... but at one point the kitten purred his way into Tsengs heart. 

• He slept on Tseng’s chest at night. He climbed onto Tseng’s shoulder and stayed there whenever he could. At first, Tseng fought it... but withing a few days, he came to enjoy the attention. He even found himself actively bonding with him, playing with him, petting him... it was strange. He never thought that he would enjoy having a pet around. When you told him that you may have found a home for the little floofer, Tseng tensed up before saying the words you never thought you would hear: “No. He belongs to us.” 

[twoidiotwriters1]

Written In The Stars CXLIII (Harry Potter xF!Oc)

A/N: I knew ppl were going to drop my fic in this book bc I made things complicated but I don’t regret the plot— did it still made me sad? yes it sure did -Danny

Words: 5,256

Series’ Masterlist

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Listen to: ‘No Control’ -by Dylan Reynolds

Chapter Five: The New Routine.

Dumbledore knocked on the door three times and Mrs Weasley's voice was quick to answer.

"Who's there? Declare yourself!"

"It is I, Dumbledore, bringing Harry. Mel and Erick are with us."

"Harry, dear!" Mrs Weasley opened the door at once, letting them in. "Mel! Erick! Gracious, Albus, you gave me a fright, you said not to expect you before morning!"

"We were lucky, Slughorn proved much more persuadable than I had expected. The children's doing, of course. Ah, hello, Nymphadora!"

"Hello, Professor... Wotcher, kids."

"Hi, Tonks."

Tonks was looking remarkably grim, Mel looked around the kitchen.

"Where's my mum?"

"I told her to go to bed," Mrs Weasley said sweetly, "it's almost midnight, the baby kept her up last night and she needed to sleep."

"I'd better be off," Tonks stood up. "Thanks for the tea and sympathy, Molly."

"Please don't leave on my account," said Dumbledore, "I cannot stay, I have urgent matters to discuss with Rufus Scrimgeour."

"No, no, I need to get going," She replied. "'Night —"

"Dear, why not come to dinner at the weekend, Remus and Mad-Eye are coming — ?"

"My uncle's coming?" Mel asked with excitement.

"No, really, Molly... thanks anyway..." Tonks said tensely. "Good night, everyone."

"Well, I shall see you at Hogwarts," Dumbledore told them. "Take care of yourself. Molly, your servant."

He and Tonks disapparated, Erick spoke up.

"You have a lovely house, Mrs Weasley."

"Oh dear, well, we do make an effort on making it cosy," Mrs Weasley smiled.  "You're like Ron, all of you, you look as though you've had Stretching Jinxes put on you. I swear Ron's grown four inches since I last bought him school robes. Are you hungry?"

"Yeah, I am," said Harry.

"A bit," Erick agreed.

Mel sat down between them, she was quite pleased about Mrs Weasley's comment on her growth, even though hers was less noticeable than the boys' who now were five and seven inches taller than her.

Crookshanks and Grey quickly made their way to them. Grey didn't like Erick very much, though Mel didn't know why. Crookshanks, on the other hand, was a huge fan.

"So Hermione's here?" Harry asked as he watched the ginger cat ruin the impeccable set of clothes Erick was wearing.

"Oh yes, she arrived the day before yesterday. Everyone's in bed, of course, we didn't expect you for hours. Here you are — Bread, dears?"

"Thanks, Mrs Weasley."

"So you persuaded Horace Slughorn to take the job?"

"It wasn't hard," Mel smiled. "Professor Slughorn was eager to get to know us better."

"He taught Arthur and me. He was at Hogwarts for ages, started around the same time as Dumbledore, I think. Did you like him?"

Harry and Erick shrugged, Mel kept her attention on her plate.

"I know what you mean... Of course he can be charming when he wants to be, but Arthur's never liked him much. The Ministry's littered with Slughorn's old favorites, he was always good at giving leg ups, but he never had much time for Arthur — didn't seem to think he was enough of a highflier. Well, that just shows you, even Slughorn makes mistakes. I don't know whether Ron's told you in any of his letters — it's only just happened — but Arthur's been promoted!"

Harry made a funny noise, taken by surprise. Erick did a sort of delighted hum and Mel stopped eating, staring at her attentively.

"That's great!" Harry said.

"You are sweet... Yes, Rufus Scrimgeour has set up several new offices in response to the present situation, and Arthur's heading the Office for the Detection and Confiscation of Counterfeit Defensive Spells and Protective Objects. It's a big job, he's got ten people reporting to him now!"

"Sounds important," Erick smiled.

"What exactly — ?"

"Well, you see, in all the panic about You-Know-Who, odd things have been cropping up for sale everywhere, things that are supposed to guard against You-Know-Who and the Death Eaters. You can imagine the kind of thing — so-called protective potions that are really gravy with a bit of bubotuber pus added, or instructions for defensive jinxes that actually make your ears fall off..."

Mrs Weasley looked beyond proud as she told them all about her husband's new job. Mel was happy for him, she couldn't think of a man who deserved a promotion more than Mr Weasley.

"...So you see, it's a very important job, and I tell him it's just silly to miss dealing with spark plugs and toasters and all the rest of that Muggle rubbish."

"Well, the heart wants what it wants," Mel chuckled, she was unaware of the way both boys looked at her.

"Is Mr Weasley still at work?" Harry questioned.

"Yes, he is. As a matter of fact, he's a tiny bit late... He said he'd be back around midnight..."

Mel felt something awful crawling up her chest when she noticed all the tiny hands on the clock were now pointing at 'Mortal peril'.

"It's been like that for a while now," Mrs Weasley commented, "ever since You-Know-Who came back into the open. I suppose everybody's in mortal danger now... I don't think it can be just our family... but I don't know anyone else who's got a clock like this, so I can't check. Oh!"

Mr Weasley's was now currently pointing at 'travelling.'

"He's coming!" She got up, a second later there was a knock on the door. "Arthur, is that you?"

"Yes. But I would say that even if I were a Death Eater, dear. Ask the question!"

"Oh, honestly..."

"Molly!"

"All right, all right... What is your dearest ambition?"

"To find out how airplanes stay up."

Mel and Harry shared a look of amusement, she heard Erick mumbling 'How do they stay up?' Mrs Weasley tried to open the door but her husband kept it shut.

"Molly! I've got to ask you your question first!"

"Arthur, really, this is just silly..."

"What do you like me to call you when we're alone together?"

The group of teenagers froze.

"Mollywobbles," Mrs Weasley whispered to the tiny crack in the door.

Mel choked on the soup, Harry had to hide his face entirely to control his laughing fit after watching her almost die, Erick quickly patted her back.

"Correct," Mr Weasley said brightly. "Now you can let me in."

"I still don't see why we have to go through that every time you come home!" Mrs Weasley complained as the man walked in. "I mean, a Death Eater might have forced the answer out of you before impersonating you!"

"I know, dear, but it's Ministry procedure, and I have to set an example. Something smells good — onion soup? Kids! We didn't expect you until morning!"

They all greeted Mr Weasley, Mel finally able to breathe and Harry able to speak without cracking up.

"Thanks, Molly," He said when the woman set a plate for him. "It's been a tough night. Some idiot's started selling Metamorph-Medals. Just sling them around your neck and you'll be able to change your appearance at will. A hundred thousand disguises, all for ten Galleons!"

"And what really happens when you put them on?"

"Mostly you just turn a fairly unpleasant orange color, but a couple of people have also sprouted tentaclelike warts all over their bodies. As if St. Mungo's didn't have enough to do already!"

"It sounds like the sort of thing Fred and George would find funny," said Mrs Weasley with doubt. "Are you sure — ?"

"Of course I am! The boys wouldn't do anything like that now, not when people are desperate for protection!"

"So is that why you're late, Metamorph-Medals?"

"No, we got wind of a nasty backfiring jinx down in Elephant and Castle, but luckily the Magical Law Enforcement Squad had sorted it out by the time we got there..."

Harry yawned beside her, Mel was starting to feel weary herself after days of sleeping in the backseat of a car.

"Bed," said Mrs Weasley. "I've got Fred and George's room all ready for you, boys. Mel, you're sharing Ginny's bedroom but I don't want you to wake the girls up. Is it okay if you sleep with Erick and Harry tonight?"

"Yeah, it's fine," Mel yawned, too sleepy to care.

"Where are the twins?" Harry asked.

"Oh, they're in Diagon Alley, sleeping in the little flat over their joke shop as they're so busy," said Mrs Weasley, and Mel could tell there was a hint of pride in her voice. "I must say, I didn't approve at first, but they do seem to have a bit of a flair for business! Come on, dears, your trunks are already up there."

"'Night, Mr Weasley," said Harry.

"Thank you for letting us stay," Erick added.

"Have a goodnight!" Mel ended.

"G'night," said Mr Weasley.

Mel had been in the twins' room a couple of times through the years, it was startling when she walked in and couldn't recognize it. The smell of fireworks was still hanging in the air and there was a few boxes of their personal items laying around, but almost nothing left from their essence in the room, it made her feel homesick.

There were only two beds since they weren't expected until the next morning. Mrs Weasley quickly made a third bed appear with a flick of her wand, it was smaller than the other two, mostly blankets and cushions piled together. She apologized profusely, but Mel didn't mind, she would've slept on the floor considering how exhausted she was.

The boys insisted that she took one of their beds but Mel refused, when she came back from changing Erick was already tucked in her pile of blankets. Harry was grinning at the way his feet were hanging over the edge.

The following morning she was awoken by the door slamming open and a pair of feet stomping into the room. She hid her face between the pillows, Harry's mattress squeaked as he sat up, and fabric rustled as Erick pushed down his blankets.

"Wuzzgoinon?" Harry asked sleepily.

"We didn't know you were here already!" There was a soft thud coming from Harry's bed after Ron sat down on it.

"Ron, don't hit him!" Hermione sat on Mel's bed.

"Dear Merlin," She groaned, hiding under the covers. "I'm going to murder you two..."

"All right?" Ron asked.

"Never been better," said Harry, sounding a bit more awake. "You?"

"Not bad."

"I knew there was no way I'd have a quiet morning here," Erick grumbled. "Hi, 'Mione..."

"Hi!" She said brightly, then shook one of Mel's legs. "Wake up! I want to hear all you did during your mission!"

"When did you get here? Mum's only just told us!" Ron said.

"About one o'clock this morning," Harry replied, Mel turned around and squinted, trying to get used to the sunlight.

"Were the Muggles all right? Did they treat you okay?"

"Same as usual... they didn't talk to me much, but I like it better that way. How're you, Hermione?"

"Oh, I'm fine."

"What's the time? Have we missed breakfast?" Harry said.

"Don't worry about that, Mum's bringing you up a tray; she reckons you look underfed," said Ron.

"Well, he is," Mel replied, finally sitting up. "You should've seen my mum — almost forced the food down his throat once..."

Harry threw a pillow at her, but he missed by a considerable distance.

"So, what's been going on?" Ron asked eagerly.

"Nothing much, I've just been stuck at my aunt and uncle's, haven't I?"

"And we just had a road trip around some towns," Erick said, getting out of his covers only to sit down on Harry's bed.

"Come off it!" said Ron. "You've been off with Dumbledore!"

"It wasn't that exciting. He just wanted us to help him persuade this old teacher to come out of retirement. His name's Horace Slughorn."

"Oh... We thought —" Hermione hushed him, Ron was quick to correct his mistake. "— we thought it'd be something like that."

"You did?" Harry grinned.

"Yeah... yeah, now Umbridge has left, obviously we need a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, don't we? So, er, what's he like?"

"He looks a bit like a walrus, and he used to be Head of Slytherin," Harry shrugged, then he glanced back at their friend and raised a brow. "Something wrong, Hermione?"

The girl gave a start, straightening in her place.

"No, of course not! So, um, did Slughorn seem like he'll be a good teacher?"

"Well, he's got a sharp mind no doubt," Erick yawned, laying on the mattress.

"He can't be worse than Umbridge, can he?" added Harry, softly kicking Erick to move him away from his legs.

"I know someone who's worse than Umbridge," Ginny walked in sulking. "Hi, guys."

"What's up with you?" Ron questioned.

"It's her, she's driving me mad."

"What's she done now?" asked Hermione.

"It's the way she talks to me — you'd think I was about three!"

"I know, she's so full of herself..."

"You better not be talking about my mum," Mel joked.

"Can't you two lay off her for five seconds?" Ron scoffed.

"Oh, that's right, defend her! We all know you can't get enough of her," Ginny rolled her eyes.

Harry and Mel shared a confused look, and just when he was about to ask the door opened again. The boy pulled up his covers so fast that Erick fell to the floor.

"Oh," Mel said quietly, staring up at Fleur Delacour.

"Children," she said brightly. "Eet 'as been too long!"

Mrs Weasley walked in right after her, looking upset.

"There was no need to bring up the tray, I was just about to do it myself!"

"Eet was no trouble," Fleur left the tray floating between their beds and kissed her and Harry on both cheeks. Erick got up with a scowl, he shook Fleur's hand, not letting her touch him any further. "I 'ave been longing to see you. You remember my seester, Gabrielle? She never stops talking about 'Arry Potter. She will be delighted to see you again."

"Oh... is she here too?" Harry asked.

"No, no, silly boy," Fleur laughed, "I mean next summer, when we — but do you not know?"

"We hadn't got around to telling him yet," Mrs Weasley said grumpily.

"Bill and I are going to be married!"

"Oh," said Harry, looking back at Mel begging her to help him. "Wow. Er — congratulations!"

"That's brilliant," Mel was unsure of how to react, none of the other women in the room looked happy.

"Bill is very busy at ze moment, working very 'ard, and I only work part-time at Gringotts for my Eenglish, so he brought me 'ere for a few days to get to know 'is family properly. I was so pleased to 'ear you would be coming — zere isn't much to do 'ere, unless you like cooking and chickens! Well — enjoy your breakfast!"

She turned around and left the room with a joyous air, then Emily walked in, holding her son.

"Hi kids," She smiled.

Mel jumped out of bed and gave her mother a big hug. She took her baby brother and kissed him all over his small face. Mrs Weasley muttered something Mel could not hear, Ginny inched closer and started to play with Reggie's little fingers.

"Mum hates her," the girl told her, clearly talking about Fleur.

"I do not hate her! I just think they've hurried into this engagement, that's all!"

"Well, it's not like we all have time to spare, do we?" Emily asked carefully, brushing the hair away from Mel's forehead.

"They've known each other a year," said Ron crossly.

"Well, that's not very long! I know why it's happened, of course. It's all this uncertainty with You-Know-Who coming back, people think they might be dead tomorrow, so they're rushing all sorts of decisions they'd normally take time over. It was the same last time he was powerful, people eloping left, right, and center—"

"Including you and Dad," Ginny smirked.

"Yes, well, your father and I were made for each other, what was the point in waiting? Whereas Bill and Fleur... well... what have they really got in common? He's a hard-working, down-to-earth sort of person, whereas she's —"

"A cow," Ginny replied. "But Bill's not that down-to-earth. He's a Curse-Breaker, isn't he, he likes a bit of adventure, a bit of glamour... I expect that's why he's gone for Phlegm."

"That's exactly what people used to say about me and Matthew," Emily raised a brow. "Now they tell me we were the perfect couple! You see, time's all it takes to change one's opinion, I think we shouldn't talk about relationships that aren't ours."

"I think she's lovely," Mel shrugged, softly kissing her brother's cheek. "You guys are being too harsh on her. I mean, Ginny, you're beautiful —"

"I'm sorry, Mel, I have a boyfriend," She joked.

"— But that doesn't mean you're silly, does it?" Mel sat down on her bed. "Have you forgotten how nice she was to Ron after he helped her sister?"

Mrs Weasley left looking rather tired, Emily kissed Mel, Harry and Erick on the cheek before leaving, leaving Leon Regulus in the room.

"Don't you get used to her if she's staying in the same house?" Harry chuckled, staring at the way Ron was struggling to breathe.

"Well, you do... but if she jumps out at you unexpectedly, like then..."

"It's pathetic," said Hermione, without even asking she took Regulus out of Mel's hold, ignoring the girl's protests.

"I feel your pain, Ronnie, don't listen to them," Mel sighed, leaning back on the bed frame.

"You don't really want her around forever?" Ginny insisted. "Well, Mum's going to put a stop to it if she can, I bet you anything."

"She shouldn't!" Mel replied. "What would you feel if you were deeply in love with someone and everyone tried to keep you away from them? You're own family!"

"How's she going to manage that, anyway?" asked Harry.

"She keeps trying to get Tonks round for dinner. I think she's hoping Bill will fall for Tonks instead. I hope he does, I'd much rather have her in the family."

"Yeah, that'll work," Ron snorted. "Listen, no bloke in his right mind's going to fancy Tonks when Fleur's around. I mean, Tonks is okay-looking when she isn't doing stupid things to her hair and her nose, but —"

"She's a damn sight nicer than Phlegm,'' Ginny made a face of disgust.

"And she's more intelligent, she's an Auror!" said Hermione, Reggie cried a bit and Ginny took it away from Hermione.

"Fleur's not stupid, she was good enough to enter the Triwizard Tournament," Harry argued.

"Not you as well!" Hermione scowled.

"I suppose you like the way Phlegm says ' 'Arry,' do you?" Ginny huffed.

"No," said Harry, blushing a bit, "I was just saying, Phlegm — I mean, Fleur —"

"Oh, please," Mel snorted. "You're just upset because Bill is your favourite brother, Ginny — you're scared he'll stop hanging out here once he marries Fleur. Hermione, I know you're lying, you're not angry because she isn't smart enough for your standards."

Hermione blushed a deep shade of red.

"I don't know what you mean."

"Sure you don't," She grinned. "But you know she's not any of those things, I know you do. I mean, so what if she's confident, as long as she loves Bill like he deserves, right? Don't you want him to be happy?"

Ginny looked at Reggie for a long time, then she sighed heavily.

"I would like her to respect our way of handling the house, that's all..."

"That's understandable," Mel nodded. "But she's the one having to get used to the Weasleys, and if I may give my opinion, you guys are as peculiar as any French girl."

Ginny's face showed a small grin.

"In my opinion," Erick spoke casually, grabbing a toast from the tray. "Fleur's too ostentatious — but she knows how to use her charm, which means she's got a brain. Joseph told me she was a great conversationalist—"

"Can't you talk like a normal bloke?" Ron frowned. "Do you like her, yes or no?"

"I'm saying she's nice."

"Nice?" The redheaded boy asked in bewilderment.

"She's not my type," The older boy rolled his eyes.

"What's your type, then?" Ron demanded.

Erick threw a quick glance at Mel before replying.

"Friendly."

"Okay, maybe Mel's right," Ginny continued, Reggie started to get restless and she swayed him a bit from side to side. "But I still get along with Tonks better, at least she's a laugh..."

"Well, she can still come and hang out, but you can't force love."

"She hasn't been much of a laugh lately though," Ron pointed out. "Every time I've seen her she's looked more like Moaning Myrtle."

"That's not fair," Hermione frowned. "She still hasn't got over what happened... you know... I mean, he was her cousin!"

Harry quickly looked down and busied himself with a spoonful of eggs, Mel grabbed a cup of tea and drank half of it in one large sip.

"Tonks and Sirius barely knew each other! Sirius was in Azkaban half her life and before that their families never met —"

"That's not the point — She thinks it was her fault he died!"

"How does she work that one out?" Harry asked, his mouth half-full.

"Well, she was fighting Bellatrix Lestrange, wasn't she? I think she feels that if only she had finished her off, Bellatrix couldn't have killed Sirius."

Mel tried to remember, there was a huge part of that night she couldn't recall.

"That's stupid," said Ron.

"It's survivor's guilt. I know Lupin's tried to talk her round, but she's still really down. She's actually having trouble with her Metamorphosing!"

"With her — ?"

"She can't change her appearance like she used to. I think her powers must have been affected by shock, or something."

"I didn't know that could happen," said Harry.

"Nor did I, but I suppose if you're really depressed..."

Mel suddenly looked down at her hands and gulped. She hadn't tried to do any kind of magic ever since she'd come back from the Ministry, now a new fear was rising above everything else, the possibility of not being able to be as good as before because of her anguish.

"Ginny," Mrs Weasley walked in again, "come downstairs and help me with the lunch."

"I'm talking to this lot!" Ginny exclaimed, her attention quickly leaving Mel's brother.

"Now!"

"She only wants me there so she doesn't have to be alone with Fleur! Emily's too tired all the time, mum doesn't let her do anything..." The girl got up to leave the room, but Mel stopped her.

"Hey, give that baby back!" She demanded. "I was holding him first!"

Ron stood up and took the baby, claiming no one ever allowed him to play with him. Ginny turned around swiftly, mocking the way Fleur would usually move, once she got to the door she looked over her shoulder one last time before leaving.

"You lot had better come down quickly too!"

Harry, Mel and Erick ate silently while Hermione examined some boxes, Ron was now playing with Reg.

"What's this?" Hermione held up a small telescope.

"Dunno, but if Fred and George've left it here, it's probably not ready for the joke shop yet, so be careful."

"Your mum said the shop's going well," Harry mentioned. "Said Fred and George have got a real flair for business."

"That's an understatement. They're raking in the Galleons! I can't wait to see the place, we haven't been to Diagon Alley yet, because Mum says Dad's got to be there for extra security and he's been really busy at work, but it sounds excellent."

"And what about Percy? Is he talking to your mum and dad again?"

"Nope."

"What a git," Erick muttered, drinking his tea while watching Hermione examine the telescope.

"But he knows your dad was right all along now about Voldemort being back —"

"Dumbledore says people find it far easier to forgive others for being wrong than being right," said Hermione. "I heard him telling your mum, Ron."

"Sounds like the sort of mental thing Dumbledore would say," said Ron.

Mel didn't try to contradict him this time.

"He's going to be giving me private lessons this year," Harry said casually. "Mel already finished hers and he'll have time to teach me."

Hermione gasped, Erick merely looked up from his food.

"You kept that quiet!" Ron exclaimed, Mel's brother slipping from his hold without him noticing.

"I only just remembered. He told me last night in your broom shed."

"Blimey... private lessons with Dumbledore! And he said you're ready to go, Mel? I wonder why he's—?"

"Careful with Lee before you drop him flat on the floor!" Mel scowled. "I see why no one lets you hold him..."

"I don't know exactly why he's going to be giving me lessons, but I think it must be because of the prophecy," Harry continued to speak, eyes fixed on his food. "You know, the one they were trying to steal at the Ministry..."

Erick pulled out his wand and with a quick movement, his plate started to follow him around the room. He took Leon Regulus and mumbled something about the baby needing a nap and Ginny needing help back in the kitchen. Mel wished she could've left with him.

"Nobody knows what it said, though," said Hermione once the Slytherin was gone. "Mel broke it."

"Although the Prophet says —" Ron started.

"Shh!" Hermione interrupted.

"The Prophet's got it right," Harry forced himself to look up. "That glass ball Mel destroyed wasn't the only record of the prophecy. I heard the whole thing in Dumbledore's office, he was the one the prophecy was made to, so he could tell me. From what it said... it looks like I'm the one who's got to finish off Voldemort... At least, it said neither of us could live while the other survives."

She wished she could've spent at least one day without thinking about the prophecy, but Harry had to live knowing that he'd have to face Voldemort, so she couldn't complain.

BANG!

Hermione vanished behind a cloud of dark smoke.

"Hermione!" shouted the three of them.

The girl stood up, coughing.

"I squeezed it and it — it punched me!"

"Don't worry," said Ron biting his lip so he wouldn't laugh, "Mum'll fix that, she's good at healing minor injuries —"

"Oh well, never mind that now!" said Hermione, pushing it aside. "Harry, oh, Harry... We wondered, after we got back from the Ministry... Obviously, we didn't want to say anything to you, but from what Lucius Malfoy said about the prophecy, how it was about you and Voldemort, well, we thought it might be something like this... Oh, Harry... Are you scared?"

"Not as much as I was," Harry shrugged. "When I first heard it, I was... but now, it seems as though I always knew I'd have to face him in the end..."

"When we heard Dumbledore was collecting you in person, we thought he might be telling you something or showing you something to do with the prophecy. And we were kind of right, weren't we? He wouldn't be giving you lessons if he thought you were a goner, wouldn't waste his time — he must think you've got a chance!"

"Of course he does!" Mel got up, starting to pick up the pieces of the tray that had smashed when the boys ran to help Hermione. "Harry's a great wizard, we just need to teach him how to fight..."

Her friends looked at her with pity, they must've been thinking of her lifeline connection with Harry and how it could affect her, but Mel couldn't look afraid or else they wouldn't believe her words.

"Guys, we'll get through this..." Mel looked down a the tiny scars on her palm, rubbing them gently.

"That's true," said Hermione. "I wonder what he'll teach you, Harry? Really advanced defensive magic, probably... powerful countercurses... anti-jinxes... probably the same things he taught to Mel. And evasive enchantments generally— Well, at least you know one lesson you'll be having this year, that's one more than Ron and me. I wonder when our O.W.L. results will come?"

"Can't be long now, it's been a month," said Ron.

"Hang on, I think Dumbledore said our O.W.L. results would be arriving today!"

"Yeah, that's true!" Mel admitted, leaving the broken plates on the desk.

"Today? Today? But why didn't you — oh my God — you should have said —" Hermione squeaked. "I'm going to see whether any owls have come..."

Ron and Hermione left the room quickly, Harry and her were left alone, but this felt a thousand times less awkward than a year before.

"Thank you," Harry said, helping her fold the blankets.

"I didn't do anything. You know they're scared, even if they don't show it..."

"I'm thanking you because it must be hard for you as well, not to show it," He tilted his head. "Usually, you're an open book..."

"I used to be," She corrected. "My feelings are just mine, Harry, and no one else needs to know about them."

He frowned.

"Still, you know it's better not to hold things in, right?"

Mel stared at him.

"Look at you, teaching me about how to handle my emotions!"

The boy let out a chuckle and reached to hold her hand.

"It's going to be okay, Mellow."

She melted at the name, it'd been a long time since he'd called her that. She looked down again at her scarred hand, and that stirred her into talking. An idea started to take form in her mind.

"What if there's a chance you don't have to be the only chosen one?"

Harry blinked.

"What?"

"What if I am your backup?"

"H-How would that even..?"

"Think about it," Mel started. "I was there when he tried to kill you, and that's when our connection was created — it grows stronger when you inch closer to death... What if the reason we can feel each other's pain, is because it warns us about the incoming danger? What if the reason we're connected it's because I'm destined to take your place if you die?"

"But — but the prophecy said it was a boy —"

"Prophecies can change, you're not obliged to copy them exactly as they're told! Even Dumbledore thought I could be the child of the prophecy! What if, in a way, we both are?"

"It doesn't mean anything, Mel. I chose to be —"

"Who says I can't choose to help you?" She lifted her right hand. "I marked myself with the prophecy, see? If we do this together we'll have a real advantage. We even promised it back in the ministry, didn't we? If you die I take your place, if I die —"

"I make sure is not in vain," Harry had finally made up his mind. "D'you think Dumbledore knows? Do you think that's why he wants us to decide for ourselves what we'll do with our lifeline?"

"I have no idea," Mel responded sincerely. "But if we're doing this, we need to set the rules now."

Harry thought about it, then he grabbed her hands and squeezed them lightly.

"Let's talk."

Next Chapter —>

Taglist.

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Where Are The Ghostbusters When You Need Them?

Hi! Thanks for checking out my story!

Despite the title, the story actually does not feature the Ghostbusters, but it does feature the Flash Rogues. That's almost as good, right?

The story can't really fit anywhere canonically since Evan and Sam are alive simultaneously, among other things, but hopefully it'll be an enjoyable story anyhow. 

Mirror Master I: You ever seen one of those creepy houses? You know, the ones with broken windows and crumbling spires and ivy growing all over them? The ones that used to belong to super rich people and are now allegedly owned by some mysterious “third cousin once removed” that no one’s ever actually seen? The ones that stupid teenagers dare each other to spend the night in? Well, Central City has one of those creepy houses. Or, more accurately, Central City’s Pine Woods suburb has one of those creepy houses. It’s commonly known as the old Jackson place. It's a three-story mansion, with broken windows, crumbling stone, a creepy staircase, massive spires....the works. It was even used as a set for a horror movie back in the 80s. Even though it technically isn’t in the city proper, it’s close enough that everyone knows about the house-and the stories surrounding it. Allegedly, the old Jackson place was built by Adolphus Jackson in 1792, after he immigrated from somewhere in Ireland with his family. They were Central City’s first settlers (the Rathaways were second). He and his wife, Betty, had sixteen kids (although only ten survived to adulthood). All the dead kids were buried in the backyard of the house, so things are already getting creepy. (Some people say that you can hear crying when you go by the house, and other people have claimed to see ghostly children.) His oldest son, Jared, inherited the house when old man Jackson died in 1846. (He was buried behind the house, and yep, people have claimed to see him, too.) Jared worked alongside Martin Garrick (yes, he IS related to Jay Garrick) and my great-great-great-great-grandfather, Shawn Scudder, in Central City’s Underground Railroad. (Am I shaming my heritage? Yeah, probably. Moving on.) People have claimed to see the ghosts of slaves and such around the old Jackson place, and they’ve also claimed to see the ghosts of Harold and Rufus Jackson, an uncle and nephew who fought on opposite sides of the Civil War. In 1877, Jared died, and his second son, Arnold, inherited the house. (His oldest son was Harold, who died at the Battle of Chancellorsville.) Arnold got married to his second cousin, which is several levels of weird, and he added onto the house, making it a lot bigger and more impressive looking. He died in 1885, after adding to the family’s sizable fortune, and his son, Bernard, inherited the house and made it even fancier. Bernard is also where the really messed up stories about the Jackson place begin, as his oldest son, Robert, fell in love with a girl his father hated (partially because he had planned for his son to marry Lydia Rathaway, Piper’s great-great-great aunt). Their arguments over it got really nasty, and so eventually Robert ran away with his chick and got married to her, only for his father to threaten to cut him off. Sonny boy decided that he wanted the money more than his wife, and he abandoned her and was remarried to Piper’s great-great-great aunt. There was only one snag: his old wife had gotten pregnant and drowned herself in the pond (now dried up) on the back of the property to get revenge a few days after her baby was born. (People claim to see her ghost quite frequently.) Her parents, the Desmonds (and the Rathaways, who were mad that Bernard had had his son marry their daughter when he already had a wife) sued the pants off the Jacksons and the family was reduced to semi-poverty. Robert hung himself a few weeks after the lawsuit was settled (he allegedly haunts the house, too) and Bernard started drinking. A lot. He died in 1910 (probably from alcohol poisoning) and the estate was inherited by his only surviving offspring, a 19-year-old daughter named Alicia, who became a librarian and never married. (Alicia didn’t live in the house after the age of 21, probably because of all the bad memories, but people still see her ghost there.) She died in 1971, and the house, which had sat unused for over three decades, had already gained a reputation as being massively haunted, a reputation that only increased when some stupid 17-year-old broke into the house on a dare, fell down the old stairs in the dark, and broke his neck in 1995. (Since then, people have claimed to see HIS ghost as well.) So you get the point: the old Jackson place is massively haunted, massively creepy, and massively empty, so, of course, Captain Cold decided that we needed to break into the place on Halloween. Now, to be fair, we do something to get our adrenaline up every year on Halloween, but there’s a difference between going to a commercial haunted house, where nothing is real, and going to an old house that might actually be haunted, especially when said old house is falling apart and everyone is wearing ridiculous costumes (as we do every year). Earlier in the month, we had decided to dress up as classic movie monsters. Or at least I thought we had. As it turned out, some people had badly missed the memo….

Mirror Master II: Okay, so maybe the scarecrow costume I had wasnae all that scary, but it wasnae my fault! How was I supposed to ken that all the scary scarecrow costumes would be sold out by October 24? I wasnae PLANNING to be the Scarecrow from the Wizard of Oz! But I’m off topic. All of us had agreed to meet on the front lawn before we broke into the haunted house, so at 7:00 PM on Halloween night, I got into me costume and went to the lawn. Golden Glider (dressed as a vampire), Scudder (dressed as a zombie), the Trickster (dressed as a bedsheet ghost), Captain Boomerang (dressed as Frankenstein’s monster), and the Pied Piper (dressed as the Phantom of the Opera) were already there, and, of course, as soon as he saw me costume, Scudder started laughing.  “They were sold out of the scary costumes, ye eejit,” I said. “Then why didn’t you alter it or something? You don’t look scary at all!” Scudder asked. “Hey, at least I look scarier than the Trickster. And besides, not all of us be seamstresses, Scudder,” I replied. (He’d made his own costume and thought that nobody knew. Eejit.) Scudder flushed and suddenly became very interested in the bushes. At this point, Captain Cold showed up in cat ears. That was his whole costume. Otherwise, he jus’ looked like a hockey fan (which he be). His sister-a bonnie lassie, she-wasnae pleased with that. “Lenny, you were supposed to dress up as something scary!” “I did. I’m a werecat.” I’m nae sure why he thought that would be convincing. “Oh, come on! You didn’t even try!”“I never try. Why are you acting like this is something new?” The Glider threw up her hands. “Because you promised me you would try this year!” “I have a tail. Does that make it better?” The Glider rolled her eyes.“I give up.” She tossed her golden hair over her shoulder-I tell ye, she is a bonnie lass-and went to talk with the Piper. The Weather Wizard showed up a few seconds later, and I saw soomthing I never wanted to see: him in a dress. “What are ye supposed tae be, me gran?” The Wizard scowled.“I’m a witch!” I looked at him oddly. “Ye could have been a werewolf, and ye decided tae be a witch?”“It’s thematic! You know: wizards are magic; witches are magic….” I laughed. “Look, if ye want to dress up like a lassie, ye kin. Just donae expect me tae understand why.” The Wizard stormed off, and the Top arrived on the lawn, dressed as a gigantic top. Scudder laughed so hard that he had tae sit down, and I laughed pretty heartily myself. “What is so amusing?” the Top asked. Naebody bothered to explain that it was because he wasnae cooperating with the theme, because we all knew he wouldnae listen. “They’re just being stupid, sweetie pie. You look amazing,” the Glider said. (I’m nae sure if she meant it or if she was just trying to calm him doon.) Luckily for the Top, Heat Wave decided to show up at this point, and his costume made Captain Boomerang laugh so hard he wet himself and made me laugh so hard that I had to join Scudder on the ground, so everyone forgot about him. “Why are you wearing a tutu?” Captain Cold asked (as soon as he was capable of speech again.)“Well, I was gonna be Frankenstein, but Digger stole my idea, and I didn’t have any other ideas, so I decided that me in a tutu was scarier than any monster,” Heat Wave replied. I looked him over again and immediately wished I had nae doon it. He was right; the sight of a 6’6”, 250 pound man in a frilly pink tutu is more terrifying than any monster. His logic seemed to work on everyone else, too, because Captain Cold quickly changed the subject. “Okay, are we ready?” Scudder raised an eyebrow. “To break into the creepy ghost house? No, but I know I’m doing it anyway,” he replied. (At the time, I thought that he was being a wet blanket, but as it turned out, he was right to be a tad worried.) “As long as we’re bringing flashlights, I suppose so,” the Piper said. (He had been against going to the haunted house, tae, but he had been opposed to it because of some kid who had died there back in the 90s because the house didnae have lights, not because of Scudder’s ghosties, which he didnae believe in. Because of that, he had changed his tune after Cold promised him that he could bring a flashlight if he wanted tae.)“Then let’s go,” Captain Cold ordered.  With that, Scudder and I transported everyone to the house via Mirror Realm. Having only lived in Central City for a year, I had never seen it before, and I was a tad freaked out by what I saw. The house itself wasnae too bad, but the creepy dead grass and trees, and the graveyard in the back of the house, were spooky, especially under the huge moon.“‘Abandon all hope, ye who enter here?’ Really?” Golden Glider said scornfully, pointing at a sign in the yard. Her brother shrugged. “Probably some kid’s idea of a prank.” Piper, meanwhile, was looking nervously at a different sign. “Cold, this sign is from the government. It says the building is condemned. Are you sure we’ll be safe to go in there?” he asked. “Since when do we care what the government thinks?” Captain Cold replied. “When a building might collapse on our heads!” Piper exclaimed. “And when it’s haunted!” Scudder added, sounding happy to have an excuse tae go home. Captain Cold sighed and rolled his eyes. “Piper, if the house seems like it’s gonna collapse on us, we’ll just have Scudder and the Scotsman transport us out. We’ll be fine,” he said. Piper seemed to relax.“Good point,” he said. Sam  didn’t look as calm. “But what about the ghosts?” he asked. “Sam, ghosts don’t exist. They’re a product of overactive imagination and too many horror stories,” the Piper replied, only for Captain Boomerang to join the conversation.“They are too real! My second cousin’s ex-girlfriend’s ex-boyfriend’s dad’s third cousin’s aunt saw one!” he exclaimed, sounding offended. Piper didnae look convinced. “That’s hardly conclusive proof of-” he began, only tae be cut off by Captain Cold. “Enough about ghosts! Let’s go inside already!” he exclaimed. With that, Trickster picked the lock on the door. He pushed it open, producing a loud CREAK, and then we went inside. 

Weather Wizard: I’m going to tell you a secret: the witch costume was an accident. I swear, I thought I ordered the Dark Wizard costume, but when I opened up the package a week before Halloween, I found a witch costume instead, and because I didn’t have another two weeks to wait (or any more money) I was stuck with it and just decided to pretend it had been my plan the whole time to save face. (At least it matched the theme, unlike cats, tops, and ballerinas.) But I digress. So, after the Trickster picked the lock, we went inside and Piper and Cold turned on their flashlights. The hallway contained cobwebs and a moth-eaten carpet, but nothing else.

“We'll cover more ground if we divide and conquer, so let’s split up into groups and search this place for valuables. Lisa, you’re with me. Scudder, you’re with McCulloch. Mardon, you’re with Rory. Rathaway, you’re with Jesse. Dillon, you’re with Harkness,” Cold barked.

“WE’RE SPLITTING UP? That’s like the #1 way to die in a haunted house!” Scudder whined. (As it turned out, he was right to be worried, but at the time, I thought he was overreacting.) Hartley sighed.

“Sam, ghosts do not exist,” he said. (He was wrong.) Then he turned to Cold and asked,

“How will the Mirror Masters be able to transport us to safety if we’re not in the same part of the house?” Cold rolled his eyes.

“Piper, unless there’s an earthquake, the Mirror Masters will be able to get to all of us before the house falls. They basically have access to a teleportation system. We’ll be fine,’” Cold replied. Piper didn’t look entirely convinced, but he didn’t keep arguing.

“Why am I with Harkness? He’s an uncultured boor,” Dillon demanded.

“Well, I ain’t too fond of you, either, you wowser!” Harkness yelled.

“Why can’t I be with Roscoe, Lenny?” Lisa asked. Cold sighed wearily.

“Fine. Dillon, you’re with Lisa. Harkness, you’re with me. Sam, stop whining. Now let’s go!” Cold exclaimed. McCulloch saluted, dragged Scudder into a mirror, and vanished, and the rest of us fanned out to search the house. After walking through some more cobwebby hallways, Mick and I reached what I assumed was the living room. The room was filled with decaying furniture and mysterious old knicknacks, everything was covered in cobwebs, and part of the roof had fallen in. Seeing this, I had to wonder if the Piper had been right about the dangers of the building.

“How long do you think it’s been since someone touched any of this?” Mick asked me.

“If I had to guess, I’d say at least forty years,” I replied. I glanced out the window and noticed that a cloud had covered part of the moon and that the rest of it had turned red, and I shuddered. “Mick, there’s a blood moon.” I said quietly.

“So? They talked about that on the news,” Mick replied as he started pawing through the knicknacks laying on the floor.

“Never mind,” I said quickly as I joined him. I didn’t want him to think I was scared or anything. Several minutes later, we were still sorting through things and had found nothing but a broken teacup, a broken porcelain doll, and a dusty beaded shawl.

“I hope the whole house ain’t like this. If it is, Captain Cold’ll be mad,” Mick said. I shrugged.

“That’s his problem, not mine.” I heard a rumble of thunder in the distance, and, a few seconds later, the sobs of a child. Mick looked up from the floor in shock.

“Did you hear that?” he asked me.

“The thunder, or the kid crying?”

“The kid crying!” I nodded.

“Yeah, I heard it too. Why?”

“Because we need to go help that kid!” he replied. I rolled my eyes.

“Mick, we’re here to get rich, not help some kid.” Mick ignored me and pulled me in the direction of the crying sound, despite my attempts to break free from his grasp. We had gotten halfway across the living room when we saw a little girl. Her hair was in...uh, ringlets, I think they’re called?-and her dress came down to the floor. She was crying (of course) and Mick went over to her.

“Hey, there, little one. Are you lost?” he asked gently. I thought about leaving Mick with the girl and continuing to search for loot, but there was something about the little girl that made it impossible for me to pull away, and NOT in a “she’s so small and helpless” way. Mick reached out to put his hand on the girl’s shoulder-and his hand went straight through her! My knees went weak under me, and then the world went black. When I came to, I found myself on a dusty couch. I looked around the room and saw Mick waving good-bye to the vanishing ghost.

“Oh, hey, Mark. Glad to see you up-although there wasn’t really a reason for you to faint like that. Georgia was just worried that we were gonna hurt her doll. When I told her we weren’t, she cheered right up and went away,” he said cheerfully.

“The ghost has a name? And is friendly?” I asked. Mick nodded.

“I don’t even think she knew she was dead. Poor little thing,” he said, and I sighed in relief.

“In that case, let’s get back to work. If she’s the only ghost here, we’ve got nothing to worry about,” I said. (Famous last words.) With that, the two of us continued our search of the living room.

Trickster: The Piper and I- James Jesse, con artist extraordinaire-decided to investigate the attic. I’m a horror movie junkie, so if I’m breaking into a haunted house, what better place to get that adrenaline rush than the attic? Piper and I climbed three sets of narrow, creaky, cracked, cobwebby stairs to the attic (although Piper got winded halfway up the second flight and I had to drag him up the last one). Then I opened the door to see lots of cobwebs, a shattered mirror, a broken window, an old, rusted bedframe, some old-fashioned cabinets, a sword, an old rocking horse (sadly, it was too small for me), and a bunch of other old stuff. The roof was low, and it was really dark. My heart pounded, but in a good way.

“This is so much better than the fake haunted houses! We should go here every year!” I exclaimed. Piper swept his flashlight from left to right, and then started examining the boring knick knacks that were lying around. I pulled out a yo-yo and some bubble gum and waited eagerly for the walls to start dripping blood. After about two minutes, Piper pulled a stack of old papers out of one of the cabinet drawers.

“James, these are from the Civil War!” he exclaimed excitedly. I yawned.

“So?” I asked. Piper looked shocked.

“James, these are valuable historical documents! If they’re really as old as they look, they could provide priceless information about the role of Central City in the Civil War!”

“Can they summon a ghost?” Piper sighed.

“No. They cannot.” I blew a particularly large bubble.

“Then I’m not interested. Let’s find something that CAN summon a ghost!” Piper rolled his eyes.

“James, you’re not going to find something that can summon a ghost, because ghosts-” Suddenly, the windows rattled and we heard a loud moan.

“Don’t exist?” Piper squeaked. Five seconds later, a transparent man with a noose around his neck appeared and floated towards us. Piper screamed and bolted down the stairs, and I whooped with joy and followed him, narrowly missing the ghost’s clammy hands.

“Catch me if you can, you stupid ghost!” I yelled. I followed the Piper to the second floor and into a spooky old bathroom, complete with dusty mirror, a big tub with clawed feet, a broken toilet, and a sink. Mold was growing in the sink and on the walls, and I grinned. This day just kept getting better and better! Piper slammed the door and locked it behind us.His chest was heaving and he looked exhausted. (Rich kids don’t have much reason to be athletic.)

“You were saying?” I asked ‘sweetly’. Piper gave me a death glare.

“NOT the time!” Piper said. I laughed.

“Do you really think a locked door will keep out a ghost? It can’t even keep us out!” I asked him. Piper’s face went white, and he ran over to the dirty mirror.

“Sam! McCulloch! Get us home now!” he yelled. There was no response.

“Piper, you know the Mirror Realm doesn’t work that way. You can only talk to them through it if they want you to, and if they haven’t had the good luck to run into a ghost, they won’t be able to guess that you might want them to pick us up.” I said as I played with my yo-yo. Piper whimpered and buried his head in his hands, then started muttering incomprehensibly as I whistled merrily.

“How can you be so happy?” Piper demanded after a few minutes.I grinned.

“Kid, we’re being chased by a real, honest-to-goodness ghost! It doesn’t get more awesome than that!” Just then, the ghost drifted through the door, and I pulled out my camera and started snapping pictures as Piper screamed.

“We’regoingtodiewe’regoingtodiewe’regoingto die !” He darted to the door, fumbled with the lock, and opened it just as the ghost brushed his clammy fingers against his back. He screamed louder and ran down the hall. I snapped a few more photos, stuck my tongue out at the ghost,and followed Piper. The ghost roared angrily and flew after me. I caught up with Piper after about a minute and lead him into a dumbwaiter, then slammed the door behind us.

“James, how is this closet preferable to hiding in the bathroom? The ghost can still walk through walls!” Piper demanded.

“Piper, YOU’RE the one who had all the servants. Shouldn’t you know what a dumbwaiter is?”

“I know what a dumbwaiter is,I have just never seen one before. I was not allowed to spend time with the servants.You can hardly blame me for mistaking it for a closet. Besides, my point still stands: why would hiding in here keep us safe from the ghost?” I laughed.

“Piper, that ghost is Robert Jackson, who hung himself because he wasn’t rich anymore and gave up the love of his life for money! Entering the dumbwaiter that the servants used would be beneath him. As long as we’re in here, we’re safe. For a guy who’s college educated, you sure are stupid,” I explained. Piper frowned.

“You were taking selfies with the ghost, and I’M stupid?” he yelled. I smiled “innocently”.

“I never said I wasn’t stupid...but I’m not a graduate from Harvard, either. But I knew how to save us from the ghost, and you didn’t,” I replied. Hartley sighed wearily.

“Whatever you say, James...but how did you know what a dumbwaiter is? You thought that the American Civil War started in 1961 until last month, so you cannot have known about them from history, and you were not wealthy, so you cannot have had servants who used one,” he asked.

“My Nonna Gianna was a maid for a wealthy family in Italy when she was a girl, and she used a dumbwaiter when she worked for them,” I explained.

“Wait...you’re Italian?” Hartley asked.

“Sí. Well, Italian-American, anyhow.My paternal grandparents immigrated from Italy in 1935 after Mussolini took over and invaded Ethiopia. When they got to America, they joined the Big Circus because my Nonno Antonio had been an acrobat in Italy. They had a whole lot of kids, and my dad was the youngest. He was born in 1955, and he married my mother, who was a second-generation Italian immigrant herself, in 1980. I was born eight years later,” I explained.

“But your name is James Jesse! That doesn’t sound remotely Italian!” Hartley protested.

“Hel-lo! My nonni were Italian immigrants performing for the American public at the height of World War II! They took stage names: Jesse for the last name, and Rosie and Jared for their first names. By the end of the war, they’d gotten so famous under the Jesse name that they couldn’t really change it back to their real one, so they just kept the stage name. My dad’s real name was Alessandro, but he called himself Jacob. My mother’s name really was Helen, though, because her parents had given her an American name. My real name’s actually Giovanni Giuseppe. How’s that for a mouthful?” I exclaimed.

“Sai parlare italiano?” Piper asked.

“Nonni, nonna, nonno, pizza, spaghetti, Venice, Rome, sí, il Dulche, Mamma Mia, madre, padre,  nipote, figlia, figlio,Ti amo, caro, Coinvolgimi, bella noche, Dov'è la birra? That’s all the Italian I know. Well, that and a lot of swear words,” I replied.

“En d’autres termes, tu sais autant d’italien comme vous le français?” Piper asked. I looked at him oddly.

“English?”

“So, in other words, you know as much Italian as you do French?” he replied.

“Yeah, pretty much. Not everyone can afford tutors for twenty languages,” I said.

“I only speak six languages-Spanish, French, German, Italian, Japanese, and Mandarin Chinese, and I can only write in the first four. I’m passable in Arabic and Russian, too, but I’d hardly say I can speak twenty languages.” I grinned evilly.

“Let’s go find some more ghosts!” I exclaimed.

“No! I’m staying right here, where it’s safe,” Piper yelled.

“Spoilsport,” I said. I started using my yo-yo again.

Captain Cold: So, as I guess you already know, I ended up partnered with Captain Koala, because he and Roscoe insisted on being stubborn morons. I wanted to look for the safe, but Digger insisted that we go to the kitchen because he was hungry, and, since Digger seems to have an immunity to food poisoning, I figured it would probably be safe to let him eat 85-year-old food, and feeding him would get him to shut his big mouth besides. Digger, who practically has an internal homing device for food, found the kitchen in about a minute flat. The kitchen was dusty, covered in cobwebs, and filled with a lot of rusted-out junk, and it was so dark that, without my flashlight, I don't think I would've been able to see two feet in front of me. It was a little creepy, I’m not gonna lie. But I don’t scare easy, so I started pawing around for valuables while Digger found the world’s oldest box of crackers and started digging in. I found a bunch of silver spoons and shoved them into my bag…and then something weird happened. A really attractive lady appeared out of basically nowhere and walked right through me like she couldn’t even see me. It felt like when I accidentally shot myself with my cold gun, and I frowned. Ghosts weren’t supposed to exist. However, I had business to do, so I ignored the ghost lady and went back to my work. Digger, on the other hand, didn’t take the ghost so well. He let out a string of Australian swear words, yelled something about a “ghost sheila” (knowing him, it was probably the exact opposite of polite), grabbed his crackers, and started to run. I grabbed him by his scarf before he could exit the room.

“Let me go, you bloody loon! You’ve got kangaroos loose in your top paddock if you want to stay here with a ghost, Cold!” Digger yelled.

“Stop freaking out, Digger. She doesn’t have any weapons, she’s not dripping blood, and she’s not bad to look at besides. Just ignore her. We have work to do.” Digger looked closer at the ghost and grinned.

“Bloody oath! She is a beautiful Sheila, ain’t she?”

“Yeah, she’s pretty. I just said that. Now get to work.” I said. Digger ignored me and walked over to the ghost.

“G’day, Sheila. I’m Captain George Harkness of the Australian Secret Service. Who are you?” he asked. (He tells every girl he takes a fancy to that he worked/works for the Australian Secret Service. It’d be a great pick up line if it wasn’t a total lie.) I rolled my eyes as I helped myself to some fine china plates. Was Digger seriously hitting on a ghost?

“Is Australia a northern state, Master Harkness?” the ghost asked. She sounded terrified, and had an accent I couldn’t quite place. Digger laughed.

“Oz? In the North? Sheila, it’s called the Land Down Under for a reason,” he replied. The ghost looked terrified and started to cry. I tried valiantly to ignore the sound and shoved the remainder of the china into my bag.

“What’re you crying for, Sheila?” Digger asked, sounding annoyed.

“B-b-because if you a Southern soldier, you gonna take me and my baby back to slavery!” I noticed that she was, indeed, carrying a baby and grimaced. I did NOT have time for dealing with this crud. Digger walked back over to me.

“I didn’t notice she had an anklebiter. She’s a lovely sheila, but not enough for me to want to be a daddy. And why’s she wailing about slavery?” he asked.

“How should I know? I dropped out of high school at 14, and I don’t have many dealings with ghosts,” I replied in annoyance as the ghost’s wailings got louder. She moved rapidly toward Digger and fell on her knees.

“Please, don’t take my baby, Master Harkness. Let him be free, please, please!” she begged. Digger shot me a pleading look, and I sighed wearily. How did Digger get himself-and me- into these situations?

“Look, lady, we don’t want you or your baby. Now go on, shoo. You and the kid are free, and “Master Harkness” and I have business to do,” I said. The ghost stared.

“Ain’t you Confederate soldiers?” she asked, obviously confused.. Digger and I looked at each other in equal confusion.

“What’s a Confederate?” Digger asked the ghost.

“They’s the soldiers who be fighting to make their own country,” she replied.

“What’s she talking about?” Digger asked me. I shrugged.

“The Civil War…..I think,” I said, drawing desperately from my memories of 8th grade history.

“You mean the war you Yanks had between each other? What’s that gotta do with this sheila?” I racked my brains for any connection between the two and wished that I hadn’t chosen 8th grade history as the class to sleep through.

“Um...she was talking about slavery…I think the South had slaves...probably….and that was maybe why the war started? Possibly? And-and since you said you were from the South, and she’s probably about as well-educated as we are, she didn’t realize that you meant you were from another continent entirely, and so she thought that you were gonna want to make her a slave again,” I said, feeling pretty proud of myself for figuring all that out.

“Didja hear that, Sheila? I’m not a Confederate, whatever that means! Australia’s an island. It ain’t part of America. Now, it’s London to the brick that I’m dangerous, so you probably wanna steer clear of me, but I’m not gonna be taking you to slavery, neither. And, hey, if you got any single friends without anklebiters,, tell ‘em t’ look up Captain Harkness, will ya?” Digger told her cheerfully.

“I..I’m free?” she asked quietly.

“As a bird. Now get outta here. You’re safe in this city,” I told her flatly.

“Thank you, sir! Thank you!” she said. She kissed her baby, and they passed through the kitchen wall and vanished into thin air. As soon as she was gone, I glared at Digger.

“Okay, now that you’re done hitting on a ghost, can we get back to work, please?” I asked.

“If you want to, that’s fair dinkum. I’m gonna go back to my chips,” Digger said. He tried to walk back to the table, but I grabbed him by the scarf before he could and forced him to clear out the rest of the valuables while I took a smoke break. He swore colorfully in Australian the entire time, but I ignored him. He was just packing the last of the chinaware away when another ghost, this one holding a gun, showed up. One look at him told me that we were in trouble, and so I ran out of the room, Digger hot on my heels.

Golden Glider: So, while Mick and Marky-Mark were in the living room, James and Hartley were running around like lunatics, and Lenny and Digger were running away from history as much as they were running away from ghosts, Roscoe and I had decided to investigate the backyard. It contained a rotting porch and a small cemetery, one which was surrounded by a wrought iron fence. It was quite dark, because there were no porch lights, but that just made it all the more romantic. As soon as we left the house, I snuggled up close against Roscoe and we both sat down on the one intact porch step. “Isn’t the darkness so romantic?” I asked him. He looked puzzled, and it was adorable. “I believe that the darkness is the absence of light, my darling,” he said. I tittered. “You’re so funny, Roscoe,” I cooed. He smiled. “I am glad I have pleased you, sweetums,” he said. A cloud moved and revealed the moon, big and red and lovely. I pointed at it in excitement. “Roscoe, look at the moon! Isn’t it beautiful? Doesn’t it remind you of us?” I asked. Roscoe looked concerned. “My darling, the moon is a celestial body that revolves around the Earth. I do not see how it can remind you of us. Did no one teach you about the nature of the moon? It is not a human being,” he said. I sighed; having forgotten how literal Roscoe can be. “Roscoe, dear, I was speaking figuratively. I said it was like us because it’s beautiful, just like we are,” I explained. Roscoe’s eyes lit up in understanding. “I see. Forgive my confusion, my darling,” he said. I kissed him on the cheek. “Of course, honey,” I replied. He kissed me on my cheek, and then I kissed him full on the lips. We were still embracing five minutes later, when a young girl in a white dress appeared. She was completely transparent, and stared at us in silence for a few seconds. “Are you lovers?” she asked quietly. “We are indeed, and my Lisa is a goddess among women,” Roscoe replied. Her face fell, and then twisted into fury. “How dare you flaunt your happiness in front of the grave of a poor rejected woman? Is it not enough that I was rejected by my Robert? Is it not enough that I killed myself of despair? Must I be mocked by your love as well? For your impudence, I will make you suffer as I have suffered!” she screamed. She moved over to Roscoe, kissed him on the lips (please don’t ask me HOW) and then disappeared. Roscoe shoved me off his lap violently and stood up. “Get off of me, you wretch!” he spat. The words felt like a blow. “R-R-Roscoe, what….what’s wrong?” Roscoe had never talked to me like that before, and in that moment I saw Lewis-my “father”-in his face. “You are what is wrong! I am a gentleman, and you-you are common trash. Why I was mad enough to kiss you I’ll never understand!” Roscoe said coldly. “What are you saying?” I asked. “I am saying that I have had enough of dating a welfare queen,” Roscoe replied. Normally, I would have struck back, but I was so bewildered by his behavior that I just stared at him. After a few seconds, he scowled. “What are you staying for, you pathetic wretch? Leave me!” he ordered, and I found my tongue. “No, Roscoe. I am staying right here with you. You may not think you love me anymore, but you will not drive me away. I won’t give you the pleasure of ordering me around like a dog,” I said. “Why not? You are a dog,” Roscoe spat. I moved to slap him, but before I could, we were interrupted by another ghost, this one wielding a old-timey gun, who charged at us. I kicked at the ghost on impulse, but, of course, it went straight through him. While I was distracted, Roscoe abandoned me, but after I regained my balance, I rushed after him and we went into the dining room. “Stop chasing me, you hussy!” he yelled. “I’m not chasing you, I’m running away from the ghost,” I said. As if on cue, the ghost lifted a table and threw it at Roscoe’s head. I pushed him out of the way and narrowly avoided being hit myself. “Why did you save me? It will not make me love a woman like you,” he demanded harshly. This time, I did slap him. “You’re welcome,” I spat. Roscoe frowned. “You dare lay a hand on a gentleman?” he demanded. Before he could continue, however, the ghost levitated all six chairs in the room, and so I grabbed him and pulled him into the hallway. A series of loud crashes followed almost immediately. “I notice that you don’t complain when I touch you in order to save your life,” I said pointedly. Roscoe sniffed haughtily and didn’t reply. Under normal circumstances, I would have led us to the door and left the house, but with Roscoe acting so strangely, I couldn’t. I didn’t want to leave only for Roscoe to keep treating me like dirt, so I decided to stay and take charge of the situation. “All right, so where do we go from here?” I asked. Roscoe scowled. “‘We’ are not going anywhere. Have I not made my disdain for you utterly clear? I am going to one of the bedrooms to go to sleep, and you-I care not where you go, so long as you stay away from me,” he said. I shook my head firmly. “No, we’re staying together. Even if you really do hate me, from a logical standpoint you’re obviously safer with me around,” I replied. Roscoe pondered this for a few seconds, then nodded. “Very well. We will stick together. However, let me make one thing clear: I do not love you. Our current predicament does not change that,” he said, and I felt my heart break. I slapped him again and said, “Fine! See if I care!” With that, I pulled Roscoe up the stairs to the second floor and into one of the bedrooms, which contained an canopy bed, a broken window, an old armorie, and a painting of a handsome young man. The plaque beneath it read "Robert Jackson, beloved son". It was a picture of the man who had spurned his lover. How appropriate. Roscoe laid down on the bed and fell asleep almost immediately (he is definitely not a night owl) and I started crying. How had this perfectly romantic night gone so badly awry?

Mirror Master II: After a quick trip through the Mirror Realm, Scudder and I arrived in the basement. It was awfy dark doon there, I’m nae gonna lie, but the way Scudder was reacting, you’d have thought it was a torture chamber. He was jumping at every little sound and keeping so close tae me that I was practically tripping over him. After aboot a minute of that, I got fed up with him and decided tae tell him tae grow a spine.

“Stop acting like a wean, will ye? It’s hard eno to move doon here without having tae avoid you,” I told him. He moved about an inch further away.

“If we run into a ghost, I’m feeding you to it,” he muttered. I laughed and started looking for trinkets, while he stayed right next tae the stairs. After a few minutes,  I uncovered an emerald ring.

“This is worth something, int it no?” I asked happily. Scudder shrugged.

“Great, you’ve found your prize. Now let’s get out of here!” he said.

“Not yet! I need a bigger haul than this!” I replied. Scudder frowned.

“Look here, you second-rate Mirror Master. I am not about to have my brain turned into soup by a ghost just so that you can sell two rings instead of one. We’re going upstairs now,” he said.

“Who are ye calling a second-rate Mirror Master? I use the Mirror Realm better than ye ever could, ye minger!” I yelled.

“You don’t even know how it works. You just swiped my equipment, you Glaswegian thug!” Scudder replied. Then I punched him, and he punched me, and we got into a fist fight. He was trying tae get oot of my stranglehold when soomthing weird happened: a ghostie showed up. You ken those drawings of fat rich people? It looked like that. I was so surprised that I let Scudder go, and he screamed like a lassie and dove intae the Mirror Realm. Me? I just froze. I didnae have a clue how to fight a ghostie, so I did soomthing pure stupid: I waved at it!  The ghostie levitated a lamp and threw it at me head, only narrowly missing me. I dove intae the mirror after Scudder. He was panicking.

“I don’t wanna die I don’t wanna die I don’t wanna die; please don’t let me die please please please don’t let me die!”

“Calmy doony, Scudder. The ghostie canae come intae the Mirror Realm,” I said. Ten seconds later, the ghostie came intae the Mirror Realm.

“You just had to say it!” Scudder wailed.

“Dinae just stand there, run!” I yelled. Both of us took off running, and only stopped when the ghostie vanished. I grinned.

“We did it! We escaped the ghostie!” I yelled. Scudder smiled slightly, but then he looked around and his smile vanished.

“Oh, no. This is bad, this is bad, this is really bad,” he said.

“What do ye mean? We escaped from the ghostie!” I replied.

“Look around you! Do you recognize any of this?” I looked around, and realized that we were in big  trouble: I didnae recognize anything around me, and I ken most of  the Mirror Realm like the back of my hand.

“We’re lost,” I said.

“No duh, really? I had no idea,” Scudder replied sarcastically.  I tried tae punch him for that, but he dodged me swing.

“I don’t see why you’re punching at me. I was against coming to the creepy ghost house from the start, and if we had stayed home and watched A Nightmare on Elm Street like I suggested, we wouldn’t be in this mess! But did you-or anyone-listen to me? Oh, no! “Ghosts don’t exist, Sam.” “Stop being such a wimp, Scudder.” “We’ll be fine.”  “Stop being such an idiot, Scudder.” Well, WHO’S THE IDIOT NOW?” he yelled hysterically, and I wished that Captain Cold hadnae put me with him, because he looked downright loony.

“Ah am, all right? Now help me find a way oot of here!” Sam laughed weakly.

“Find a way out of the Mirror Realm? You might as well tell me to beat Superman in a fist fight. It’s impossible. There’s a reason that I never go out of sight of the mirror portals: the Mirror Realm is so vast that if you get lost, you’ll probably never find your way back to them-and they’re our only way out of the Mirror Realm. I can’t get us out without the portals, and, thanks to you, Len, and that ghost, I have no idea where they are. Heck, I don’t even know where WE are!” he exclaimed.

“The Land  of Abstract Art, mebbe?” I suggested. We were surrounded by swirls of colors and strange shapes, ye ken? Scudder didnae seem to find that as funny as I’d thought it was.

“Really? We’re lost in a never-ending mirror maze, and you’re cracking jokes?” I shrugged.

“Aye. Beats whining aboot it, ye jerrie.” To tell the truth, I was just as freaked out as Scudder was, but I wasnae about to let him know it.

“You’re a lunatic,” he spat.

“Ah am’nae!” I yelled back. I punched  him, he punched me, and we ended up in another fistfight that only ended when both of us collapsed from exhaustion. Apparently, all the running had taken a lot oot of us. Scudder basically ended up falling asleep on my lap, and I was too tired to move him. After aboot a minute of embarrassment, I fell asleep tae.

Heat Wave: Hi, there. I’m Mick Rory, but you can call me Heat Wave. Everyone does. So, uh, while everyone else was running away from angry ghosts, Weather Wizard and I were still searching for valuables, and not finding any. After about an hour of searching, I got bored, pulled out my flamethrower, and lit the sofa on fire. It was beautiful and pretty and warm, and I decided to touch it. Bad idea, because I was still wearing the tutu, and..well...tutus are really flammable. The fire didn’t exactly hurt me (the prison doc tells me my skin’s so badly burned by this point that it doesn’t feel pain anymore), but it did freak out Weather Wizard, who doused me (and the sofa) with what felt like a gallon of water.

“Hey! You put out my beautiful sofa fire!” I complained. The Wiz scowled.

“In case you didn’t notice, YOU were on fire, too!” he said angrily.

“And now I’m sopping wet AND don’t have my precious fire. I don’t see how that’s an improvement,” I replied. In response, the Wiz beaned me over the head with his wand. (He doesn’t have a good swing, so it  didn’t really hurt.)

“Being wet doesn’t kill you, you big oaf! You know what does? BEING ON FIRE!” His face was red and his eyes were crackling with electricity, so I knew he was pretty upset. Because he can create tornadoes, I decided to apologize.

“You’re right, Mark, and I’m sorry. Thanks for saving me,” I said. His eyes stopped crackling.

“Just don’t do it again,” he said. I nodded and sat down on what was left of the sofa, and Wiz went over to the window and gazed out of it.

“A storm’s brewing,” he said. I don’t think he was trying to sound spooky, but with his tone of voice and his witch costume, he did. A few seconds later, lightning flashed and thunder boomed. Wiz opened the window and leaned out. The wind whipped his (impossibly spiky) hair, and he stared at something in silence. After a few seconds, it got creepy, and so I went over to him and dragged him away from the window. I closed it as soon as he wasn’t in the way.

“Come on, Mark, let’s go to another room. Captain Cold’ll be mad if we don’t find something valuable,” I said. When he didn’t move, I picked him up, threw him over my shoulder, and took him up the stairs and into a bedroom which looked like it might have belonged to a little kid at some point, since there were a bunch of old toys in it. One of the windows was broken, and everything, including the toys, a rocking chair, and a crib, was covered in dust and cobwebs. It was very spooky, although it was in better shape overall than the living room had been. I started looking for something valuable, and the Wiz made a beeline for the window.

“Hey, knock that off! Just ‘cause you’re the Weather Wizard doesn’t mean that you get to look at the weather and not help me!” I said. Wiz turned around and locked eyes with me.

“The storm...it’s an ill wind that blows no good,” he muttered. It was almost like he was in a trance or something. And then it happened: a ghost appeared. Now, it wasn’t super gory-really, it just looked like a transparent teenager-but let me tell you: it was scarier than anything I’ve ever seen in a horror movie. At almost the same time, it started to rain heavily. The Wiz passed out again, and the ghost advanced on me. I decided that discretion was the better part of valor (what? I saw Shakespeare on TV one time), threw the Wiz over my shoulder, and ran downstairs and out of the house with him. (Question: Why is it that he was WAY heavier when he was unconscious than when he was conscious?) I wanted to make Captain Cold happy, but I wasn’t gonna fight a ghost just for some loot. As soon as we got out the door, the ghost stopped following us, so I dumped the Wiz on the ground and began what proved to be a LONG wait for the Mirror Masters to come pick us up. Wiz woke up about five minutes after we got out of the house and cleared up the rain (thank goodness), then took a look at me and smiled.

“You should see yourself. Your tutu’s unrecognizable and I can see your underwear,” he said. I felt my cheeks heat up. Man, that was embarrassing.

“Yeah, well, you fainted twice, so I think we’re even,” I replied. The Wiz flushed, and looked at the ground. A few seconds later, he yawned, then produced a wind that dried up the ground.

“I’m gonna take a nap. Wake me up when Scudder shows up,” he said. With that, he curled up on the ground and dozed off. After a couple seconds, I sat down next to him, and, after a few minutes of trying and failing to come up with an excuse for not finding any loot, I dozed off too. (One of the benefits of being….less than legally employed is that you learn to fall asleep anywhere.) I woke up about twenty minutes later when the Wiz poked me in the side with his wand.

“Huh?” I asked drowsily.

“Where are the Mirror Masters at? Surely they’ve gotta be finished by now,” he whined. I shrugged.

“Maybe they’re still looking for stuff. Or maybe they hit the jackpot and are still gathering up all the stuff they found,” I suggested.

“Well, they better hurry up. I’m bored and tired and I want to get back to my nice soft bed,” the Wiz replied.

“I’m sure they’ll be here soon,” I said. Then I fell back to sleep and was dead to the world for another forty minutes.

Pied Piper: After being trapped in the dumbwaiter for about ten minutes, I turned off my hearing aids. Not being able to hear is never a pleasant experience, but it was highly preferable to listening to a bored Trickster sing “This Is the Song That Never Ends” again and again and again. This solution worked reasonably well until I realized that I very much needed to use the powder room and needed advice as to how to do so without attracting the nightmare creature that wanted to devour my internal organs. Therefore, I had to turn my hearing aids back on, because none of the other Rogues have ever bothered to learn sign language and I had no desire to play charades. As soon as my hearing turned back on, I was greeted with what must have been the fortieth rendition of “This is the Song That Never Ends”.

“James. James. JAMES! I, um, need to use the powder room. Do you have any idea as to how I can do that without meeting the ghost?”

“Depends. What’s a powder room?” He batted his eyes and smiled in the most irritating manner imaginable.

“You know full well what a powder room is!” I exclaimed. James’ smile grew wider as he shook his head.

“I can’t help you if I don’t know what you need, Piper,” he said. I sighed and gave in.

“It’s a restroom,” I said, blushing terribly. James laughed and did a particularly impressive trick with his yo-yo.

“Oh, so you need to pee! Why didn’t you say so?” he asked.

“Because my parents did not allow me to discuss bodily functions in public. Ever,” I replied.

“Did your parents allow you to breathe without their say-so?” I frowned. My parents had indeed controlled my days down to the second before they disowned me, but I didn’t want to admit it, so I said,

“Never mind that. Just tell me how to use the powder room without getting killed!”

“Oh, that’s easy. I’ll close my eyes, and you can do your business in here,” James replied. As I did not have access to a mirror, I cannot be sure about this, but I believe that I blushed even harder.

“No!”

“Why not? You can even blindfold me if you want. Believe me, I do NOT want to watch that,” James replied. I scowled.

“Because that is disgusting, James.”

“I don’t see why. It’s what we did in the circus,” he said, sounding genuinely confused.

“This is not the circus!”

“Well, it isn’t exactly Rathaway manor, either. I’m not saying that it isn’t gross, but this place is in bad condition already. You can’t make it much worse,” James replied.

“I think I would rather face the ghost,” I said. James laughed.

“I can’t believe that you’re more scared of breaking your parents’ rules of being “proper” and pretending that you don’t have bodily functions than you are of a literal ghost,” he said.

“This has nothing to do with my parents!”

“Somebody’s in de-ni-al!” James singsonged.

“I’m not in denial. Just because I do not want to be Digger does not mean that this has anything to do with my parents,” I insisted.

“Yep, definitely in denial,” James said. I ignored him and pulled out the mirror that I had brought with me in order to contact the Mirror Masters.

“Sam! McCulloch! If you can hear me, I need you to get me-and James-out of this house!” Nothing happened, and I sighed wearily. There went that idea. About three minutes later, I decided that I couldn’t wait any longer. I opened the doors nervously and, not seeing anything, bolted down the hall to the powder room, used it, and was on my way back when the ghost reappeared. I screamed like a little girl (which is quite humiliating in hindsight) and just froze up in terror. If I had been alone, I don’t want to know what would have happened next, but, luckily for me, James showed up at exactly this point and yelled,

“Hey, Casper! Over here, you preposterous poltergeist!” The ghost howled and started chasing him, and he whooped with glee and ran down the hall in the direction of the staircase. Thirty seconds later, I heard a loud cry of pain from James. I bolted to the top of the stairs and saw that one of the steps had given way under James, and that he had clearly broken his ankle. Worse, the ghost was floating over top of him, and, for the first time, he looked scared. I stared at the scene for a few seconds, unsure of what to do, and then pulled out my flute and started playing it in the desperate hope that its hypnotic powers would work on a ghost. I tried to ignore the fact that my knees were shaking under me as I played, and, after a few seconds, the ghost stopped howling and floated away from James. I carefully went down the stairs to my partner, still playing, then knelt down beside him and put the flute away.

“Do NOT do that again! You scared the daylights out of me!” I snapped. James smiled.

“Aww, you do care,” he said. All his fear seemed to be forgotten and I shook my head in amazement. He had almost been killed (possessed?) by a ghost, and he was already making jokes.

“I did owe you. After all, if you had not attracted the ghost’s attention, I might have been killed. How’s your ankle?” I asked.

“It hurts like the dickens,” he replied.

“Can you walk?” James stood up shakily, winced, and quickly sat back down, then smiled and said,

“I can walk on my hands!” He proceeded to demonstrate. In spite of myself, I laughed a little.

“Can you keep that up long enough to get to the front door?” I asked him after I stopped laughing.

“Probably. Why?”

“Because we are leaving. I don’t know how long my hypnosis will last, but it will wear off eventually, and I do not want to be here when it does,” I explained.

“Aww, but I wanted to see some more ghosts!”

“Can you run on your hands?” I asked. James grinned slightly.

“Maybe?” he asked. I shook my head.

“Let’s go. We can watch The Shining when we get home if you want,” I said. (It’s James’ favorite horror movie, and very useful as a bribe.) James’ grin widened.

“You know me well, Piper. Let’s go home,” he said. With that, we left the house-only to find Mick and Mark asleep on the lawn; Mick in little more than his underwear.

“There’s something you don’t see every day,” James said.

“What, Mick and Mark sleeping on the lawn or Mick in his underwear?” I asked.

“Both, but mainly Mick in his underwear. That’s an image I’ll never get out of my mind,” he replied.

“Me, neither,” I agreed. After a few seconds, James sat down on the ground and pulled out a pack of bubble gum.

“I swallowed my gum when that step broke under me. Want some gum?” he asked.

“I suppose,” I replied. James handed me a stick of gum and then took out one for himself as well. I sat down next to him, unwrapped the stick of gum, and started chewing it. James blew a huge bubble.

“How do you do that?” I asked.

“Blow bubbles? Haven’t you ever had bubble gum before?” he asked. I shook my head.

“My parents said that gum was for plebeians,” I replied.

“Well, if they really did cut you off, you are one now, so that shouldn’t be a concern anymore,” he said. I smiled.

“You have a point. So, carnie, how about teaching this ex-patrician how to properly blow bubbles with bubble gum?” I asked.

“You’re on!” James exclaimed.

Captain Boomerang: I hate all the bloody ghosts in that bloody ghost house! (I also hate Cold for making me go into the ghost house, but that’s beside the point.) After Cold and I ran out of the kitchen, the ghost chased us through several rooms and to the basement stairs. We exchanged a brief look and ran down the stairs into the basement.  

“If that bloody ghost follows us, I’m gonna be as mad as a cut snake,” I said. I was tired of all the running, tired of risking my life, and even more tired of not getting to eat my chips.

“I think he’s stopped chasing us,” Cold said as he looked around. Then he gasped.

“What is it?” I demanded. Cripes, I need a coolie , I thought.

“The Mirror Masters...at least one of them left their Mirror Gun here. It’s their only way back into our dimension. They’d never leave it here.”

“Well, if they’ve carked it, there’s nothin’ we can do. Let’s take our loot and leave this spooky place before another ghost shows up!” I said. I thought that I’d made a good point, but Cold disagreed and punched me in the face.

“We don’t  have any proof that they’re dead, so we’re goin’ in after them. They’re too valuable to lose, and besides, the Rogues don’t abandon their own,” he said. Cold activated the portal to the Mirror Realm and dragged me inside by the scarf. As soon as I got inside, I had a sickie and vomited all over the floor.  

“Scudder? McCulloch? It’s Cold. Where are you?” Cold yelled. No answer.  I stopped vomiting and looked around, then noticed something shiny. I went over to it and discovered that it was an emerald ring.

“Cold, have a Captain Cook at this! We’re rich!” I exclaimed. Cold looked at it...and went pale.

“Oh, no….one of the Mirror Masters must have been spooked by something and dropped it-and if they ran that way and were so panicked that they didn’t notice that they dropped a valuable thing like that, then they’re lost in the Mirror Realm,”  he said.

“Okay. They’ve carked it. Oh, well. Let’s go home,”  I replied. Cold shook his head.

“No. We’re gonna find them,” he said.

“Cold, you just said that they were lost in the Mirror Realm. If THEY got lost, we’ll get lost, too,” I protested. Cold didn’t listen.

“We ain’t gonna get lost, because we’re going to make a trail to follow,” he said. He drew one the spoons out of the bag and placed it on the ground next to his feet. Then he moved about ten feet forward and did the same thing, and did it again about seven feet after that. He’s got kangaroos loose in his top paddock for sure, I thought.

“What are you doin’, Cold?”  I demanded.

“I’m making a trail,” he said.

“Outta  spoons ?” I asked.

“Didn’t you ever hear the story of Hansel and Gretel?”

“I don’t read fairy tales. They’re for wusses,” I said.  Cold scowled.

“Look, I have  a little sister, okay? Anyway, Hansel and Gretel didn’t want to get lost in the woods, so they used bread crumbs to mark where they’d been. That way, when they turned around, they’d know which way would take them back to their starting point. This is the same idea, only our markers can’t be eaten by anything,” he said. With that, he started dragging me by my scarf towards the direction he thought the Mirror Masters had taken.

“You know, I can walk on my own,” I said.

“ Maybe so, but if I let you go, you’ll probably  be walking towards the exit, so I’m keeping ahold of you to be on the safe side,” Cold replied. I stuck my tongue out at him, but he ignored it.  After about twenty minutes of walking, we entered the weirdest place I’d ever seen. There were all these bloody weird shapes and colors, and I couldn't tell which way was up. It freaked me out, but for some reason, it didn’t seem to bother Cold at all.

“Cold, this is really freaky. Can we go back now? We’ll never find the Mirror Masters in this crazy place,” I said.

“Shut up, Digger. We are going to find them, and we are not going to stop walking until we either do or run out of silverware,” Cold replied.

“Ace!” I muttered sarcastically.

“What was that?”

“Nothin’,” I lied.

“That’s what I thought.” He dragged me along for about ten more minutes before I opened my big mouth again. (I think that must be some kind of record.)

“Can we stop now ?”  My legs were killing me (not to mention my neck)!

“No. Stop acting like a six-year-old,” Cold replied.  I really need a coolie, i thought.  

“I wouldn’t be actin’ like an anklebiter if you weren’t actin’ like a dictator,” I snapped. Cold punched me in the side and continued to drag me along like a bloody kelpie. After about four more minutes, i decided that I’d had enough of being dragged around and stabbed Cold in the arm with one of my razor-sharp boomerangs. He swore in pain and let me go, and I grabbed the mirror gun and ran towards the exit. Sadly for me, Cold managed to bean me over the head with a plate and knocked me out. When I came to, I awoke to see a pair of unconscious Mirror Masters. Normally, I would’ve been crosser than a frog in a sock that Cold had knocked me out, but at the moment I was too glad that Cold wouldn’t be dragging me through the Mirror Realm anymore to really care.

“You little Ripper! You found them!” I exclaimed happily.

“No thanks to you,” Cold muttered. He shook McCulloch awake.

“Cold? How did ye get in here?” he asked.

“Either you or Sam dropped your Mirror Gun outside of the mirror in the basement, and I used it to get in here,” Cold explained.

“But how did ye find us?”

“Stubbornness, mainly,” Cold replied. I laughed.

“That’d be right!”  I exclaimed. Cold looked at McCulloch oddly.

“Why is Sam sleeping in your lap?” Cold asked.

“ WHAT? ” McCulloch yelled. He quickly moved Sam off his lap and stood up. This woke Sam up, for obvious reasons. Once he realized what had happened, he noticed Cold, gave him a huge hug, and then punched him in the face.

“I’m...getting some mixed messages here,” Cold said.

“I’m happy you found us, because I thought we were going to die here, but I’m about equally angry at you, because you wouldn’t have had to rescue us if you hadn’t decided to take us to the creepy ghost house in the first place,” Sam explained. I laughed. It’s always good to see Cold get taken down a peg, the arrogant knocker.

“I do nae see why you  being here is a good thing. We do nae ken  how to get back to the Mirror Portals from here, we’ll all die here,”  McCulloch said.

“Actually, we won’t. I marked the path we took from the portals with our loot, so we’ll able to get back fine,” Cold replied.  McCulloch grinned, and my stomach growled.

“Can we go home now? I’m hungry,” I asked.

“Ye and me both, Digger,” McCulloch said. Cold nodded.

“Let’s get back to our reality,” he said. With that, we started the long walkabout back to the Mirror Portals.

Top: My nap lasted precisely twenty-five minutes and fifteen seconds. Then I awoke to see Lisa crying quietly. Normally, I would have felt  horrible upon seeing such a sight, but  at the time, I simply felt disgusted.

"Stop sniveling, you piece of gutter trash. I will  not be moved by your feminine wiles,”  I spat. (I have since apologized profusely for this comment, and for all others made under the influence of the ghost, but my darling Lisa is still distrustful of me, and her brother would have beat me to within an inch of my life for them  had she not stopped him.)

“All right. I WILL stop crying. I should have known better than to show weakness in front of a man who’s just like my father,” she replied angrily. If I had been myself, I would have been horrified by this accusation, but as I was, I merely sniffed dismissively.

“I am nothing like your father. He was an alcoholic boor who lived off of welfare for most of his life, and I am a gentleman,”  I said haughtily.

“And yet you’re calling me names just like he did,” Lisa replied. (In hindsight, her self-confidence was quite admirable, but at the time, I found it irritating.)

“Shut your mouth!” I snapped, unable to refute her argument.

“And let you walk all over me? I don’t think so,” Lisa said. Furious, I raised my hand to slap her, but thankfully, the Civil War-era ghost interrupted us before I could. Lisa grabbed me and pulled me out of the room before the ghost began to levitate anything, thereby saving my life for the third time that night.

“I told you not to touch me!” I said icily. In response, Lisa kissed me on the cheek and I pulled away sharply in utter disgust. (I believe that she was trying to make me uncomfortable in an attempt to snap me back to my senses.)

“I just saved your life again , and you want to complain about me touching you? AGAIN?” she yelled.

“I was aware that we were in danger. There was no need for you to touch me,” I replied coldly. The ghost drifted out of the bedroom we had  been in, and  the two of us ran to the stairs-only to find that one of the steps had collapsed. Lisa sighed and slid  down the banister to the bottom of the stairs, and I reluctantly followed her when the ghost appeared behind me and it became apparent that there was no other means of escape. (We were able to keep our balance because my darling Lisa was a figure skater and I am very resistant to vertigo.) We ran back through the dining room and back into the backyard, and were greeted by a most unusual sight. The ghost who had kissed me was holding hands with another ghost, this one with a noose around his neck.

“Oh, darling, you’re back!” she cooed. The other ghost kissed her.

“Yes, and I’ll never leave you again. I’m so sorry that I abandoned you all those years ago. My father was wrong: you were more important than our money ever could have been,”  he said.

‘I forgive you, Robert,”  she replied. Lisa started to cry again.

“Oh, shut up, you sniveling hussy! You are too far beneath me to deserve my sympathy,” I said harshly. Lisa frowned  and dried her tears rather angrily, then elbowed me in the side.

“Where have you been, Robert?”  the  female ghost asked.

“I don’t know. All I remember before seeing you tonight was a lot of anger at something,” the other ghost replied. The female ghost embraced him.

“Oh, well, you’re here now. That’s all that matters,”  she said. They kissed again, and then the female ghost noticed us and frowned.

“Are you the lovers?”  she asked.

“Formerly. I thank you profusely for showing me my folly,”  I said. Lisa nodded sadly.

“Why do you want to know? You can’t possibly make me any more miserable,” she said. The ghost smiled.  

“Because I am going to show you both mercy. Since my happiness has been restored, I will restore your happiness,” she said. She kissed me once again, and all my love for Lisa came flowing back-as did a crushing sense of guilt.

“My darling, I am so sorry for what I said. I don’t know what came over me, but I swear to you that  I do not care how rich you are. You are a goddess, and I adore you. Please, please forgive me,” I pleaded. I felt like an utter cad. Lisa frowned.

“R-Roscoe?” she asked nervously.

“Yes, sweetums,”  I said. I tried to kiss her, but she pulled away.

“Don’t , Roscoe. After what you said to me tonight, I just don’t trust you. How can I be sure that you aren’t saying you don’t care that I’m “gutter trash” only because of your hormones? What if two or three years down the line, you don’t find me attractive anymore? Will you still love me, or will I suddenly become a “welfare queen” again? I still love you, but I can’t trust you anymore,” she asked

“You...you are breaking up with me?”  I was heartbroken and rather tempted to attack the ghost (if that was even possible), but I could not really blame her.

“I’m not sure. Let’s call it a vacation,”  she replied quietly. There was an awkward pause, and then I said,

“In that case, since our date is off, perhaps we should go to the front lawn and wait for the Mirror Masters to take us back to our hideout.”  Lisa nodded, and we left the backyard, walked quickly through the house, and made it to the front lawn of the house without issue. Upon arriving, we saw Mark curled up on the lawn, fast asleep, Mick napping in little more than his underwear ( a sight that will haunt me until my dying day), and James and Piper blowing bubble gum. James waved at us.

“Hi there, lovebirds! How was your date?’ If there is one thing that James is the master of, it is saying things at the most inopportune times.

“Badly,”  Lisa replied. With that, she left my side and sat down next to Mick. James looked at me quizzically.

“It is a very long story that is frankly none of your business,”  I told him. I walked a few feet away from him, sat down, and buried my head in my hands, ashamed of what I had done to the one person in my life I ever cared for. Apparently, I dozed off at some point, because the next thing I remember was the two Mirror Masters arriving alongside Digger and Leonard.

“Look alive, everyone! We’re moving out!” he barked. Five minutes later, we were all back in our hideout (thanks to the Mirror Masters). Lisa immediately ran over to her brother and started sobbing. My stomach twisted with guilt and I looked away.

“Shhh..shh...shhh..Sis, what happened?”  In response, Lisa told him the whole story through hiccups and sobs. When she was finished, Leonard marched over to me.

“ Is this true, Dillon?” he demanded.

“Sadly, yes,”  I replied awkwardly. In response, Cold punched me so hard he knocked me to the ground.

“Then you’re gonna wish you’d never been born. NO ONE hurts my baby sister,”  he snarled. He moved to hit me again, but before he could, Lisa ran over to him and grabbed his arm.

“Lenny, don’ t!  He was under the influence of a ghost!  It wasn’t all his fault,” she said. Cold scowled, but he walked away anyway as Lisa helped me back to my feet.  

“Are you alright?” she asked.

“Better than I should be after treating you so terribly,”  I replied.

“It’s good to to have you back, Roscoe,” she said.

“Does this mean that  we’re back on?” I asked eagerly.

“No, Roscoe, I’m afraid not. It’ll  probably be awhile before I feel comfortable around you again,” she said. She left me and went upstairs, and I was left to mentally berate myself for my idiocy.

Mirror Master I: And...that was basically it. We managed to get home alive from the creepy ghost house, everyone changed out of their costumes, and most of us, exhausted, went to bed (except James and Piper, who decided to watch The Shining for some reason.) The next morning, Trickster went to the hospital to get his broken ankle treated, and the rest of us decided to never, ever go to any house that was supposed to be haunted again. A week later, the Flash caught Len trying to fence his loot, so he’s in prison again. Lisa still hasn’t forgiven Roscoe, and James’s ankle is still very broken, but otherwise, things are pretty much back to normal for us Rogues. So, with that in mind-we would like to wish you all a Happy Halloween!- What James said.

FIN

[babybluebex]

hc: jimercury having a baby

ok so nobody requested this but i need to write this and it’s a hc format Sorry not sorry also this is so long so sorry about that 

ok so today’s topic is: freddie and jim having a kid

so i think the talk would come around pretty soon after they got “married” (i use quotes bc it was never legal but let’s be honest they were married)

and john’s just had ANOTHER kid and rog had a kid and mary had a kid and he’s surrounded by babies and bABY FEVER hits hard and even jim who’s pretty stoic melts when he thinks about raising a kid with freddie

so the couple applies for a surrogate under fake names and meet with several women who would all be wonderful candidates and they each make sure to compliment them and make them feel good and comfortable

and finally they meet The One and she’s young but she’s chill with freddie and jim’s relationship and for legal and medical reasons, Freddie has to disclose his illness and she’s okay with it and even gives him a hug

(which is a big deal bc people didn’t even want to be in the same room as HIV+ people bc they thought they would catch it so freddie tears up and is like “yeah this is her”)

anyway jim is the father and nine months pass like nothing and finally freddie and jim return to garden lodge with an extra passenger

the cats are all curious and investigate the small, wriggling thing, and they all seem pretty unimpressed

except for delilah

no, no, delly loves the baby

she sleeps next to his crib every night and protects him every moment of the day

freddie is never seen without the baby in his arms, always singing to him and bouncing him and kissing his soft little forehead

but neither can come up with a good name

jim and freddie are PROS at coming up with names for cats but that’s a cat, not a human person who could/will be made fun of for whatever name they get bc they decided his last name would be mercury bc who the fuck doesn’t want the last name mercury let’s be real that would be dope

anyway i digress

but they call the baby “baba” for the time being bc that’s what freddie’s dad called him but they both know that he needs a more formal name

so they try out different names around the house

“darling, can you get phoebe to run out to get more nappies for william… ugh, no, not that.”

“fred, dear, benjamin needs to be burped, would you mind?” and freddie pulls a face and jim is like “yeah that’s no good”

and when the band comes over to meet baba, roger suggests that that be his legal name

“you guys already call him that. why not?”

in exchange, rog agrees to let freddie name his next baby (and that’s how rog’s son rufus ended up with the middle name tiger) ((and that’s an actual true story))

and so baba mercury became a star

freddie and jim agreed that they didn’t want baba to grow up in the public eye but freddie also didn’t want to alienate his fanbase from an important part of his life so they meet in the middle and make little home videos of baby baba that he can release when he’s old enough to decide that for himself

when freddie gets very sick later on, he’ll watch those videos for hours and smile at his little boy as he chewed his fingers and smiled at the camera

baba was born with an overbite like freddie, and he had the biggest smile in the world

freddie loves when baba is a squirming little thing but he prefers it when baba starts to talk

he always had a little personality before he could even speak, and the invention of spoken language did not slow down the babe at all

“dada!’ he’d call, and freddie would peek into the playroom to see baba tying a bow around delilah’s neck and the queen herself would be fluffing her fur and totally content “pwetty pwincess, dada!”

when baba is about 3, queen is asked to perform at what could be the biggest concert of their career, and freddie hesitates to agree 

“if this live aid thing goes the way it’s supposed to... things will change, jim. you think there’s a lot of press now?”

“fred, love, i think if you want to, you should. i can bring baba and we can make a day of it.”

so on that july day freddie had baba on his back, the little boy jabbering a mile a minute

baba picked up jim’s accent more than he did freddie’s, but freddie loved listening to a little carbon copy of his husband 

some of freddie’s close friends are either performing live aid or there for support, and baba meets freddie’s friends elton and david

baba likes elton immediately bc he has a flashly little earring in and he likes david a lot because his eyes are different colors and baba had never seen that before and quickly declared “uncwe davey” to be an alien bc of it

and then freddie is told that their gig starts soon so he hugs jim and baba and says “see you out there, lovies”

baba had never known anything other than cheers when his father went to work

it’s just what his dad did, like how his friend carol’s dad was a tailor or sam’s dad worked in television

but he covered his ears with his hands when dada stepped out in front of the crowd

it was way too loud for him

jim pulled baba up onto his shoulders to give him a better view and baba quickly adjusts to the volume of the crowd and the piano

he was little but he had his favorite songs, and he started bouncing like mad when radio gaga started playing 

jim pulled him to the floor to let the little rascal dance better, and baba was grinning from ear to ear

he wanted a hug and nothing would stop this child

baba mercury was freddie’s son through and through bc when he wanted something, he did what he could to get it 

even if that meant running onstage in front of nearly 100,00 people to hug dada’s leg

and freddie looks down at the munchkin attached to him and smiles offstage to jim, and he picks him up “wanna help me sing this next song?” freddie asked baba “it’s your favorite, the hammer song” 

and baba leans into the microphone and babbles for a minute before saying something that he had heard dada sing around the house hundreds of times when he was being silly “ayoooo!”

the crowd yells back to him, and freddie smiles and nuzzles baba’s nose with his and continued the iconic call-and-response that he would perform many times after that that he called “baba’s song”

and life was perfect and everything was good and happy 

and maybe i’ll add more to this later but ugh babies 

[lizzylunawizardessfanfics]

Welcome To The Family

Pairing: Elias/Lizzy

Summary: What was a normal day in town to do an errand run, Elias comes across an adoption event being held. Just wanting to take a small walk through and visit the cats and dogs will he leave empty handed.

“Delia foods ready,” I called while placing down the bowl that contained food as I looked around to soon spot my new companion trotting over with her tiny legs. Hearing her cute squeaky meow brought a smile to my face as I watched her happily eat. Taking my seat on the couch I watched her eat for a bit before turning my attention back to the papers I was grading. As I worked, I couldn’t help but replay today's events that lead up to me adopting her.

~~~ Flashback ~~~

I was strolling through town in the morning as it was my turn to get supplies for the office in which I also took the opportunity to buy some things I needed for myself and a little gift for my girlfriend. I was walking on the sidewalk while going over my checklist to ensure that I’ve gotten that was needed and or wanted. Nearby I could hear the chorus of laughter and giggles to which curiosity got the better of me as I looked up from my list to see what was going on. Over across where the large water fountain was there was a large mass of people along with a bunch of playpens for animals. 

Folding my list and tucking it away into a pocket I walk over to see what such an occasion was taking place. The closer I got, I was able to see a banner that read “Adopt-A-Friend” as the various sounds of people, cats, and dogs filled the air. Strolling through I got to see the various breeds as there were many adorable cats and dogs which I would occasionally stop to give some of them pets. I made it to the area where all the cats were as I did like dogs as they reminded me of when we used to have a dog, but for some reason I found myself liking cats more as I grew. 

I leaned over to look down at the cats and kittens as they all seemed to gather around for attention. “Hello there, you all are so cute,” I said smiling softly as I could hear their purring. I’d have to tell Lizzy that this was here as maybe we’d come back to visit all the animals together. I was getting ready to move away until this one kitten caught my attention; it was a munchkin with mainly white fur while its paws were orange and gray. Moving over to get closer I reach my hands down and carefully picking up the small kitten before standing properly holding her to my chest. Now seeing the kitten up close she had the prettiest ice green eyes. She let out a small meow before nuzzling into me as I gently pet her behind her ear which she seemed to like a lot.

“Hello sir, is there anything I can help you with,” I looked over to see a lady who was talking to me as I didn’t answer right away. I looked down to the kitten as there was something inside me that wanted to take her as for some reason I had this odd sense of familiarity that I couldn’t exactly put my finger on. Finally making up my mind, I look at the kind looking lady and gave her a smile. “Yes, I’d like to adopt this kitten please,” I said as the lady who was working the event smiled more and nodded asking for me to follow her to which I did. After a few papers being signed and buys the necessary supplies for my new companion, I was heading to go back to the academy with her in my arms.

~~~ Flashback End ~~~

Hearing the soft mews I looked down to see Delia on her hind legs as her front paws were on my pant leg in an attempt to get my attention. Leaning down and scooping her up I sat properly and running a hand over her soft fur. “All full,” I asked as even if I wouldn’t be able to understand her like Lizzy would I could tell by how Delia got comfortable. Setting her on my lap I continued to finish up the little bit of grading that was left. Getting through the last few papers with ease I set them all aside and then making myself a bit more comfortable on the couch. Suddenly feeling slightly sleepy, a yawn came out as I briefly closed my eyes for a moment to which I dozed off while feeling Delia curled up on my chest. I was unsure of how much time had passed as I woke up sitting up quickly at the absent feeling of Delia on him. 

“Who’s the cutie patootie?? Yes you are,” I heard the familiar sweet voice cooing as when I sat up properly and rubbed my eyes a bit the sight before me melted my heart causing me to smile. There Lizzy was sitting on the floor holding Delia cooing and giving the kitten kisses. “You should've woken me up, my apologies if I slept long,” I of course apologized since I don’t normally fall asleep in the office. “It’s perfectly fine Elias, besides it’s important to rest as I only got here maybe ten minutes ago. I was just talking with Delia, she was telling me how you found her at the place in town and brought her home with you. She says she’s really happy to have a home,” I listened to Lizzy say as I was surprised, but made me all the more joyous as it definitely left like she found me. Moving over to sit next to my beloved I give her a peck on the cheek.

“It makes me happy to hear that, how did teaching with Luca go,” I asked as I could only imagine the trouble he’d cause for her. Feeling her return the favor by kissing my cheek it still made my face feel hot along with the fluttering feeling in my stomach. “It actually went really well as Luca actually helped out and what not, he even took over at one point during a lecture,” she said, which was surprising but then again those two were best friends and Luca knew better when working with her so it made good sense. I noticed on Delia was a cute frilly ribbon as a collar as it had a bell cover in silver glitter hanging off of it, classic Lizzy trait. “I see you made her a collar,” I said while petting Delia’s head. With a beaming smile that I absolutely adored, Lizzy looked at me with her baby blue eyes and replied, “Yup! Though I just gotta get the tag with her name on it, I really do love the name you picked for her.”

Letting out a small chuckle I nodded in agreement before saying, “Indeed, as I didn’t make the connection at first but she has the same ice green eyes like your mother in the photo of you both to which if I remember correctly delias were your mother’s favorite flower.” Her eyes seemed to widen in surprise before dilating back to normal with a more softened expression as Lizzy let out a soft laugh. “Yup mom always loved having delias in the house, anytime she’d get a shipment to her shop she’d bring them home haha,” she said in a fond manner while petting Delia who was happily accepting all the affection. “Wait till Rufus gets to meet his new lil sister,” Lizzy shortly said after as I nodded in agreement as Rufus was very good with younger and smaller creatures to which Lizzy surprisingly added “Welcome to our little family.” It took me by surprise but filled my heart with warmth as this was exactly as she put it and that fact couldn’t have made me any happier “I love you Lizzy,” I said without a second thought while looking at her lovingly. “I love you too Elias,” she instantly responded back looking at me again to which we shared a short yet sweet kiss.

[divinion1990]

Sabretooth; Dusk/Dawn

One year ago, the Grand Magic Games were held in the capital city of Crocus. It had been a triumphant year in so many ways, even as Sabretooth had suffered a surprising loss at the hands of the reformed and renergized Fairy Tail. The battle itself, however, was vastly overshadowed by the near miss of the dark magic ‘Eclipse’. Everyone in Fiore knew how close the world had come to a terrible fate of ten thousand dragons. Only the sheer determination of Lucy Heartfillia’s future-self had managed to save the world, making sure that not a single dragon could escape Eclipse in their timeline.

“Are you going to be much longer?” Minerva said, throwing a less than playful glare in her master’s direction.

“Hang on, hang on,” Sting said, raising a hand to silence her. The new guildmaster refused to be rushed. He’d been studying the small piece of paper intently for a good five minutes now, making small hums to himself as he took in each word and strung them carefully into their set phrases. He must have read it a thousand times already, but he had to be completely certain that he wasn’t missing something important. “I need to make sure that everyone gets the right missions in my guild,” he explained.

“No, you don’t. That isn’t your job. You gave all mission approval to Rufus, remember?” Rogue pointed out to him, holding out his hand to take the mission request.

“That doesn’t mean I don’t want to double check,” Sting said with a small pout, giving the browning paper reluctantly back to Rogue. “I want to know you’ll be safe.”

“Don’t worry, he’s a big boy. He can do a mission without you,” Minerva said, a smile twisted on the corner of her mouth. “And even if he couldn’t, I’ll be here to protect him.”

“Fro thinks so too!” came a smaller voice from below.

Sting smiled as he leaned down to Frosch’s level. Minerva had a point; it wasn’t as if Rogue was going to be left on his own. Knowing that he had a very capable friend by his side made him feel a little more at ease. “You’ll make sure everyone comes home safe, Frosch?” he asked the smallest member of the party.

Frosch didn’t even need to think about it. He nodded and looked up at Minerva and Rogue, and then back to the approving, kind eyes of the master. “Frosch will look after everyone!”

Sting’s grin widened as he put an affectionate hand on the exceed’s hood with just enough pressure to make the cat giggle and shake away. He stood, sharing the expression with his other two friends. “Knock ‘em dead, guys.”

With the approval, both Minerva and Rogue let out a sigh of relief. It had taken some time, as had every mission before this one, but at least Sting was beginning to accept this would be an ongoing trend. “We won’t be long. If it all goes right, we’ll be back before dawn,” Minerva assured him.

“Dawn?” Sting asked again, the confidence fading as he looked back to the doorway. There weren’t many windows in their guild, but as the door opened and closed, he could see the glimmers of red light shimmering over the horizon. “But it’s just about to turn nightfall. Are you going straight away?”

“The mission was clear they wanted it actioned immediately,” Rogue reminded him.

“The quicker we can have it done the quicker you can get him back, Sting,” Minerva said, already taking Rogue by the arm and beginning to lead him towards the door. Just another subtle gesture to make Sting feel even more uncomfortable, even as her words remained kind and filled with reassurance. “I’ll bring him back soon.”

“Fro thinks so too!” Frosch told them, waving to Lector and Sting as he disappeared out of the guild door for the very last time.

Sting had tried to sleep. Really, he had. It was just a mission. Rogue and Sting had taken plenty of missions without one another over the years. They’d both worked alongside Minerva. Naturally, it made sense that Minerva and Rogue would take missions with just the two of them. And Frosch, of course. It was just normal. The natural progression of friendship.

He stared up at the ceiling, listening to the steady hum of Lector’s sleep. There was no reason for the dragon slayer to stay awake and think about the wellbeing of just one member of his guild, just one friend amongst so many. He had an entire guild to care for now. He had the responsibility of a family that had adored him enough to put him into that position of power. The shackles that kept him firmly inside the guildhall while people like Rogue could go and explore the world.

Jealousy. He decided it was pure jealousy. Because he should have been alongside them both. He should have been fighting with his partner, with his friend, for a great many years until he even began to think about anything like the responsibility of ‘master’. Maybe he could get out. Take on a few more last-minute missions. Go out with Rogue and Frosch and Lector just one last time, like the good old days.

Even with that explanation, there was a twisted feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Lector woke around the same time that he got up, though he insisted that the two were unrelated. Whatever the reason, Sting was happy to have his company as always. He could cope without Rogue and the others for a night or maybe even longer, but never without his exceed. They would do everything together – getting ready for the day as a unit. They left the house side by side, walked into their guild and made the same greetings to their nakama. They got breakfast together, eating and drinking almost in complete unison. And both of their eyes wandered back to the doorway time and time again.

The sun was rising in the sky. Dawn had passed a couple of hours earlier, and still there had been no sign of the small team. Sting had suspected from the start that they’d been overambitious in their prediction to be home so quickly, but that didn’t make him feel any better. Maybe they had got themselves into some kind of trouble, some distraction, or maybe just an adventure that Sting was now missing out on.

“Sting, we need to talk about the mission acceptance process.”

“Uh huh…” Sting said, more distracted as he took a sip from the coffee mug. A new obsession he’d developed with his promotion. “I told you, just go with whatever. I trust you.”

“That’s just the thing. We have a lot of new members and I don’t think I’ve seen enough to know-“

“Instincts, Rufus,” Sting explained to him, knowing that would prove to be difficult to someone that worked solely on memories. “I…”

He trailed off. He thought he caught something, a shift that was as familiar as his own heartbeat. A scent, filling the air. Finally! He thought to himself, quickly turning back to the doorway.

It opened, but it wasn’t the team that he’d expected to see. Another newcomer, another Sabretooth member that Sting had yet to build the incredible relationship with yet. Even more so now, he felt his heart dropping in disappointment. It wasn’t who he thought it was, but he’d definitely smelled-

“Sting?”

“Sorry!” Sting realised he’d stopped talking midsentence. He turned back to Rufus, pledging to himself to give him his undivided attention this time. “What was I saying? Instincts! Use your instincts. You’ll do great, I know you will,” he said, clasping his hand over Rufus’s shoulder.

The smell… There it was again! To make matters worse, as Sting tried to focus on Rufus, his eyes were drawn away. A shadow where there should have been light. A quivering black mark that scooted around the floor of the guildhall like a mischievous rodent. His eyes stayed wide as he watched it, not sure what to make of it. Why was a shadow there- why was this shadow acting in such a peculiar way?

“What are you looking-?”

“Ah! Nothing! Nothing- don’t worry about it!” Sting said suddenly, drawing Rufus’s attention back to the conversation as he shook his shoulder. At least, just long enough for the memory maker to miss the dark mark finally disappearing through the far door. He might not have understood why, but it was clear that the shadow was trying not to be seen. “Um, why don’t you make a list of, uh, the missions? And you know, categorise them or something. Alphabetise them. Colour code! Uh, be right back.”

He didn’t bother looking back. He just knew that Rufus was giving the back of his head a perplexed look. That was fine, at least it meant that he didn’t know enough to raise a question. Not that Sting would have known how to answer him. Not until he had this chance to disappear into his doorway of his office.

The small room was quiet. Almost too quiet. He sniffed against the air, more certain than ever that he was not alone, even if he couldn’t locate the mysterious shadow. Not only that, he could see the evidence. Sting was a messy individual, but even he wouldn’t have left his study in this condition; papers strewn across the floor, books pulled from bookcases and ornaments pushed around haphazardly across their surfaces.

“Rogue?”

There was no answer. Sting took another step forward, trying to work out which of the shadows was cast by light and which were a perpetual darkness. His mind was racing. Rogue would never keep himself hidden. He would never disappear from him, upturn his entire office and remain silent. This didn’t feel… right.

“Rogue, I know you’re here…” he tried again, keeping his voice softer.

There was a sudden scuffling. A shot through the light. The black mark bounced from under the desk, to the far side of the room. More books tumbled out of the bookcase, more letters flew into the air. The darkness shot up to the ceiling, curling into the corner.

“Rogue!” Sting found himself shouting, taking a step back from the mess. This was animalistic. It was blind and destructive. “What the hell…? Come down - talk to me!” he said, keeping his voice steady and clear. He was supposed to be an authoritative figure as master – but more than anything, a friend.

The shadow shivered. It twisted in the dark corner of the room, swirling ominously. The void had hollow eyes somewhere beneath the layers of mystery, and they were staring at the guildmaster. The darkness was quivering, ready to pounce, ready to fall, ready to attack, ready to surrender-

The shadow slipped into the empty patch on the floor, swirling into an inky black stain just in front of Sting. Although he’d seen it a thousand times, it was always mesmerising to watch Rogue’s body swallowed in reverse by the gaping hole, a dark silhouette gaining form and twisting into a vaguely human figure. The textures softened to skin and fabric and hair, the colours shifting to white, grey, and a deep crimson red.

Sting took a staggered step back. As the shadow dissolved into the familiar man, the scent of his best friend filled his nose. It was as overpowering as it was distorted, a sickening harmony of sweat, dirt, and blood. So much blood. His eyes traced over the dragon slayer’s body, across his chest, his arms, his legs, his sides, his shoulders, his neck… barely finding a patch on his outfit or skin that wasn’t cracking with dirty red stains.

“What happened to you? You’re hurt-” Sting whispered out, stepping forward.

“It isn’t mine.”

The words stopped Sting in his tracks. Rogue didn’t sound much like Rogue anymore. His voice was deep and filled with a frightening power when it felt it should have been at its weakest. In just a few words Sting had the overwhelming urge to fall to his knees, to beg for mercy. He swallowed instead, struggling to keep himself from shivering. “Who’s is it?” he asked.

Rogue didn’t answer. Instead, his eyes silently swept across the office. They were cold and filled with purpose even as they darted around. Suddenly, he launched himself across the room. Another pile of papers was torn apart, scattered in all directions as Rogue desperately poured over them.

“H-hey wait!” Sting said, still more than confused. The snowstorm of paperwork was drowning him, the red fingerprints staining every other sheet. “Slow down! What are you looking for?”

Rogue hissed under his breath. He seemed to struggle with himself on that answer, rocking back and forth as his eyes darted like a caged animal. He glanced up to Sting several times, before staring straight ahead, an argument he seemed to be both winning and losing raging in his mind. “The shadow,” he whispered eventually. He turned back to his counterpart, finally letting Sting see the redness in his eyes and the hollow horror trapped inside. “You have a plan, a way to get rid of the shadow. Where is it?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about-“

“Yes, you do!” Rogue screamed, throwing yet another pile of papers around, this time for nothing but the pure destruction. He glared at Sting, the pain congealing into helpless anger directed at his friend. “Don’t pretend you don’t know! Don’t lie to me! You know exactly what I’m talking about so where is it-where is it??”

Sting tried to take another gentle step forward, even if every one of his instincts were telling him to step away. He’d never felt this way about Rogue before, never felt this throbbing fear that ran riot through his mind. He wasn’t a threat, he had to remind himself; he was a friend. Not just any friend. That special friend, that friend that meant more than the world to him.

Except his exceed.

Sting stopped in his tracks. He could only detect one smell, one person mixed with the salty sweat and metallic blood. He’d thought there was something so strange about Rogue’s scent from the moment the shadows had parted, but could only assume that it was solely the blood-

“WHERE IS IT?!”  Rogue shouted.

This scream was suddenly with something new. Less of the restless and nervous desperation, a passion that he rarely got to see from his subdued friend. Sting’s eyes grew wider. He kept his own body from shaking the same way that Rogue’s was, kept his anger under control while Rogue’s ran away with itself. “I’m telling you I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he answered.

“Bullshit!” Rogue screamed at him, the aura around him dropping into a rippling darkness. “You know how to stop it. You can stop the shadow before it takes over. You have one chance, you have to stop it once and for all-”

“Rogue, where is Frosch?”

There was a sudden shift. Rogue bit back his screaming and rambling. The arguments stayed inside of his head, twisted and turned over one another, fumbling without finding voice. Though it was clear he was trying. His mouth opened and closed, eyes staying wide and staring back at Sting for the explanations that failed to materialise.

Sting took the silence opportunity to continue, his own questions now overflowing. “Where’s Minerva, Rogue?” he asked, ignoring as his mouth threatening to become too dry to keep asking.

“I don’t know,” Rogue shook his head, quickly answering under his breath.

So… if he didn’t know about Minerva… Did that mean he knew where Frosch was? His scent had become so foreign in such a short amount of time, not just from the mixture of blood and battle, but distinctly missing something that always should have soaked his clothes. Sting frowned to himself. “Whose blood is that?” he pressed yet again, his voice slower and filled with his own growing fears.

“Everyone.”

He stopped. “Everyone?”

“Avatar. Army. Village. Everyone. All dead. All gone.”

Sting tried to tell himself not to let his heart break. He tried not to let the pity creep through his expression, to keep himself strong while Rogue was weak. But one word… one shaking word threatened to ruin all of that.

“…Frosch?”

Rogue looked away. His eyes closed. His breathing slowed to a chill shudder. And he nodded.

Shit.

It had been exactly what Sting had feared. That feeling that lurched in his chest. And no doubt felt a million times worse for Rogue. Sting knew more than anyone that a bond between a dragon slayer and their exceed was more than any simple friendship, even more than family. It ran deeper than the bond than a human could have with their own limbs. It was a part of them, the heart that beat inside their heart. And Frosch… Frosch was just so…

Sting blinked back his own tears. He didn’t have time for them. They weren’t his to have, not right now, not with Rogue standing in front of him. “Rogue I’m sorry…” he started, feeling dangerously close to losing his own voice. Damn. His voicebox hurt, his eyes hurt, everything hurt. But it would be manageable. It had to be manageable. “I’m so sorry, Frosch- he-“

“I know you’re keeping it from me.”

Sting blinked. “wh-what?”

“The failsafe. The plan, the cure. You’re keeping the way to stop the shadow. I know you have it.”

Sting’s mouth hung open. He was still talking about that… whatever it was? He watched in sheer disbelief as Rogue shifted away from him and back to exactly what he had been doing before. Tearing apart the office, searching for some meaningless trinket or manuscript that simply didn’t exist. As if he hadn’t said anything at all, as if he hadn’t just let Sting know how much his life had come crashing down around him.

“Rogue… You should sit down…” he said, pulling back one of the chairs.

Rogue shook his head. “I know-You have to know how to get rid of the shadow. Before it takes over again, before anyone else-I can’t let anyone else-I can’t-”

“Rogue,” Sting whispered sharply, but he knew that he was powerless here. He still didn’t know what the ‘failsafe’ or ‘shadow’ were. He didn’t know if it was anywhere near as important as what Rogue was telling him, but he knew nothing in this world could have meant more to him than losing Frosch.

That was something that the shadow dragon slayer was failing to realise. He ignored his strangled breathing. He walked on shaking legs. He caught his tears on his eyelashes and refused to let them fall. And he continued to search. He stormed away from the unwanted conversation, determined to continue pulling apart the office.

Sting could do nothing but let him get it out of his system. Stopping him now wouldn’t help him. It wouldn’t take away an ounce of that pain. It would still be waiting for him on the other side.

Rogue blindly destroyed the room under the premise of searching for the impossible. He was like a man possessed, using his magic when his reach could not yield results. It was unclear where the shadow ended, and the man began. Pictures were ripped from walls, bookcases toppled over to reveal the empty walls. He let the room fall around him in chaos, spreading his red fingerpaint across every nook and cranny.

Sting wasn’t surprised when he heard the scream. That strangled, painfilled scream that only came from losing everything.

Only about five minutes had passed when Rogue fell to the floor, his body finally giving in to the emotional weight. His hands gripped the ground in tight fists. His eyelashes could finally take no more tears, and the first streams running down his cheeks. He punched the ground. Again and again and again while that hollow scream echoed around him. Finally. After everything he’d been through, after all the anger and the pain and bloodshed, there was the weakness.

Sting might not have been surprised, but that didn’t make it hurt any less. He no longer saw a reason to hold back his own tears, if only a little. He kept his movements slow and gentle, approaching his friend over the minefield of broken glass and carnage. “Rogue, listen to me…” he began slowly, reaching out to him as he crouched to his side. His hand gently pressed onto Rogue’s back, feeling the grief-stricken ripples through every breath. “I’m… so sorry… We’ll get through this. Together. We’ll get through this, I promise. Whatever it takes.”

“I can’t-“

“Yes, you can…” Sting promised, feeling the pain slipping through his fingertips. He felt like he should have been able to share it, the way they could share their energy and magic, he wanted to take away some of that turbulence inside of his friend’s mind. It wasn’t enough just to have tears at the same time as him. It wasn’t enough to just be able to put a hand on his shoulder and hope for the best. He needed to help him.

“No, I can’t-“

“-Rogue-“

“I can’t stop it,” Rogue whispered, taking in a longer, shaking breath. “I can’t stop it from taking over. I can’t stop it. It’s going to- It’s going to- Sabretooth- Everyone- Everyone-”

“Rogue, calm down...” Sting whispered to him, squeezing his shoulders and gently pulling him closer.

“No, I can’t calm down, I can’t stop!” Rogue insisted, his voice swimming through the confusion of emotions. Even as he sat upright, he couldn’t meet Sting in the eye. “It wasn’t my fault- Avatar they- he- it was him, he did this-”

“Shhh shh shh…” Sting said. Rogue’s tears were all he could see, and he felt the overwhelming urge to brush them all away. His hand rested on his cheek, feeling the sticky heat soaking into his palms.

“You don’t understand. You can’t-! If I calm down the shadow will-I can’t-I can’t let anyone else get hurt-”

“Rogue, look at me,” Sting commanded. His eyes held him captive, stern and kind, the way he’d always wished that a guildmaster could have been towards them. Only when he was certain that he had his undivided attention did he tell him the all-important words. Words that would soon become an unfortunate lie.

“I am… so sorry for what happened to Frosch. I just… I can’t believe it. And I don’t…” he could barely speak. The image of the small and most innocent of exceeds was in his head now. He had seen him only a few short hours ago, just before dusk. He’d spoken to him, wished him all the best… It was too much to process. If he tried, he would have lost all ability to speak. Instead, he shook his head, continuing before he lost all will. “… Rogue, listen. I can’t take back what happened, but I will do everything to make sure it never happens again. Sabretooth is my guild now, under my protection. You are under my protection. That means I won’t let any cult or dark guild or-or- ‘shadow’ risk that. Not because I have a plan or some kind of ‘failsafe’, but because we have to. We have to look after each other. And you and me… we always have, haven’t we?”

The words swelled new tears from Rogue’s eyes. They didn’t seem to be sinking in the way that he’d hoped they would, though. The shadow mage was tense, his face completely drained of all colour, his body weakened. Words of lightness and kindness had no hope of getting through to him, it seemed.

But all of a sudden, Rogue gave a heavy sigh. He leaned forwards until his body lost all balance, falling into Sting’s arms. There was no reason to fight it anymore. No reason to stay upright, no reason to feel anything but darkness. Even so, he let the warming arms of his friend wrap around him. He closed his eyes when he felt a warm breath on his neck as he was held close. He chose to say nothing as Sting continued to tell him over and over again that he would take care of him. That he was so sorry for everything that happened. And that no shadow could harm them.

[littlebitlizbit]

The Two Year Miracle

Tinker...  Where do I begin? With his spirit, his sass? His grumble meow, or his cooing purr? The crook at the top of his long broken tail, or his blown out oracle eye? There are so many feelings and emotions that his name brings up, and I hope that I have the words to get them out right...

So right, where do I begin? I guess at the beginning. 

About two and a half years ago my household lost one of our cats to old age. Our other cat, Rufus, was never a huge fan of his late sibling, but he was still used to anothers cat’s company. I wanted to bring him in a new friend, but knew that financially it would be a stretch. I have a rare genetic disorder that gets in the way of full time work, and vet bills, especially for older cats, tend to add up... but still, Ruffie needed a companion.        I started to look online at some of the various animal rescues around the lower mainland, and stumbled across Katie’s Place. It is a no kill cat rescue, that offers a unique option for those looking to adopt.      It’s called the Permanent Foster Program. This program exists to get the most in need cats into a household asap. It applies to the senior cat’s, in Kate’s Place care, that have non life threatening issues. The hardest part about adopting out older cats is people’s concerns over vet bills, and this is where Katie’s place differs from most shelters... They work with vets who continue to see the cats for the remainder of their lives, and Katie’s Place covers any fees or medication costs.           I started looking through their cats available for adoption gallery, and finding out which ones were available for the PM program. There were at least three that could have been a good fit, so a friend and I headed out on one of their open house days to meet the candidates.            I remember thinking how smart of a set up they had, to house the rescues in a comfortable way. You pass through a safety gate and into a comfortably lit portable, with rooms running down either side of the hall, each with an connected covered patio. Instantly we were greeted by the “hall cats.” We entered the first room, that comfortably housed about 6 rescues. One of the PF cats was sleeping in her bed, and she perked up as I put my arm near her bed. She was a beauty white fluffy girl, who was sweet, but wasn’t a fan of other cats, so not the best fit. As we popped in and out of the rooms, I had my eye out for one named Smigeon, a black fluffy guy who sounded chill on the website. He was in one of the rooms towards the back, on the porch, a volunteer informed me. On the way through to him, my eye was draw to this miserable looking cat, with very obvious sight issues. He was bald and covered in scabs, raising his paw cautiously in front of himself from on top of a cage within a cage. There was something about him... but not wanting to startle him, I let him be, and continued through the door to find Smigeon snoozing utop a cat tree. He instantly rolled over and gave me the sweetest look and started purring at my pets. I was sold, and went to tell the woman in charge that I would like to take him. As I was petting some cats nearby her and another volunteer, I overheard the volunteer tearfully say “I don’t want him to die in here.” I went over and asked what was up, and was told that Smigeon came in with another cat, but this other cat was super sick, and had a stomach tumour, and wasn’t expected to last more than two weeks. I called home and asked my partner if he trusted me, and he said yes. I told him we were getting two cats. Turns out the mostly blind scabby guy was Smigeon’s old house mate. I knew that I could give him so much love in the time he had left, and though it would hurt, resigned myself to this short term guy. I was told to really have a think about it overnight, and was there the moment they opened the next day with carriers ready to bring them home.        It was as if this scabby cat, this Tinker, knew we were coming for him. He was off of his smaller cage, and at the mouth of his big one with his paw outstretched towards me the moment I walked in. My friend helped cage up Smigeon while I got Tinker into his. Smige fell asleep in his cage on the way home, while Tinker, sat half in his cage, half on my lap, staring either at me or out the window. He could see a bit...but not much. 

And then the boys were home.

Smigeon pranced around the house like he was the happiest prince. He LOVED water, like would let the tap drip on his head he loved it so much (even tried to jump into the bath with me once.) Rufus was wary of Smigeon, there were a couple hisses, but for the most part didn’t seem to mind him.      Tinker was another story... the poor guy walked into walls and chairs, but could see at least a little bit and had great hearing. Rufus was mesmerized by him. Like he could tell that something was wrong with this guy, so wasn’t aggressive in the least bit. If Tinker hissed, Ruffie would just quietly sniff near him, and give him space.       That first night, all the cats were on the bed. Tinker couldn’t jump up on his own, so I made him a set of makeshift stairs, that he ended up being really good with. He then marched, with all the grumpy sass of an old man, onto my chest, and promptly curled himself around my neck, falling almost instantly and deeply asleep. I knew then and there that this cat had my heart, in a way that I’d never experienced before. 

Sure, I’ve had some great cats, amazing cats, sweet silly cats. One of my favourite cats growing up was exceptional, Taz. He was a rescue, a smushed faced himalayan persian, who would jump from the floor up to my stomach then from stomach to shoulder and perch there. He’d give me kisses and hugs, sat on my lap every meal and whenever I was on a couch. He slept at my feet and used to love to sit on my chest and just stare at me, purring. He was the cat that made me fall in love with grumpy old man cats... but he has long since passed and I didn’t think I’d ever get that lucky again. 

I was wrong. 

As the days went by, Tinker thrived. Him and Rufus seemed to be bonding exceptionally fast, and he would devour any food that was put in front of him. He loved fresh water, and would drink loudly while padding the floor, and then would put his paw right into his mug. Oh yes, he drank out of a Batman mug, he wouldn’t drink out of a bowl, but the mug was his jam.         Smigeon, our clean, other than being older, bill of health kitty, on the other hand, was not doing well. No matter what I’d put down for him food wise, he wouldn’t eat. Not even fresh cooked meat or bacon. I started to “baby bird” him and would fill a thick syringe up with moist food, and feed him that way. He ate a tiny bit of dry food one day, and he’d drink tons of water. After a week I brought him and Tinker in for a check up, since Tinker’s skin condition didn’t seem to be getting any better, and Smigeon was getting weaker. Turns out Tinker, and now my house, had ringworm. But poor Smidge, the vet wanted to keep overnight, to see if he’d improve after being on an IV. I was called the next day by the vet, Dr.Gold, who told me that they did some more tests on Smigeon, and it turned out that his entire body was riddled with tumours. He was weak and in pain and the vet said there was nothing they could do, and that we needed to let him go. I rushed out in time to hold him, give him lots of loves and pets, as he crossed the rainbow bridge in my arms. It was hard, and unexpected, but I’m thankful that he at least got to have a final couple of weeks in a loving home. 

           He and Smigeon did not come from a safe/loving home. Tinker had scarring that showed not only a once broken tail, but also ribs. Some of his teeth were broken, and he wasn’t born blind, but one of his eye was completely blown out. Both cats were surrendered after a raid, completely matted and dehydrated. It boils my blood to think that some people can be so cruel...             Back home, now Rufus had contracted ringworm, and both Tinker and him had to be quarantined in the spare room, while we disinfected the entire house. Tinker was on cold meds, as well as ringworm meds, and it took me a few times to figure out the best way to administer it. He would go full on feral if I tried to pinch his mouth open at all, but the liquid meds seemed to be the easiest, while I held him with my arms and legs. Both boys had to get bathed once every 2  to 3 days for about two months, and we had to completely disinfect their room a couple of times a day.                     During this time I would go, in my massive Batman onesie, and just lay down with them. Rufus was never big on pets and cuddles, but everytime Tinker would march straight up my chest, and lay claim to the real estate around my neck. My guess is that my breath on him from there was comforting, like he knew he was safe... The two boys became inseparable in that time, and Ruffie actually started to want tactile love. Rufus had never liked to sleep near any other cats, but the two of then now cuddled almost constantly. 

         Finally, after getting the final check/ok from the vets, the boys quarantine was over. (Funny side story, during that visit Tiker needed to have bloodwork done... I could hear him yowling down the hall, and when they brought him back in the vet tech was wearing a fully padded suit, and plastic neck and face guard. She basically threw him at me...poor feral guy, but was calm the second he was back in my arms) Tinker was the first out of the room, slowly but surely relishing in his new freedom. Rufus was a little more cautious upon exiting the room, but cautious is kind of his default. 

     Slowly but surely more of Tinker’s personality started to come out, as he blossomed. We’d now had him for about three months, and he was showing no signs of slowing down...in fact quite the opposite. After watching him one morning accurately swat at and chase a fly, I realized how good his hearing was. The pet store near me sold these crinkle balls, that made the slightest noise while being batted around. As soon as I dropped it for him, a new Tinker was unleashed. He chased and batted around that thing with the energy and accuracy of a kitten. I couldn’t believe it. Neither could the vet. On his next check up they were pleased at his weight gain, and the fact that his fur was starting to grow back in (the exact same shade as Rufus, who knew!?). His tumour wasn’t growing, but it also wasn’t shrinking, so he was put on some pain meds to make him a little more comfortable. He became even more active after that. It’s funny, he would sing, literally sing and coo to his crinkle ball wherever he would catch it and carry it around in his mouth all proud like. If he’d lose it under some furniture, we’d have to go on our hands and knees around the house to see what he lost it under, because he would cry if he couldn’t find it. Finally I bought him a pack of 12 online, so that if he lost it, we could just pop him out another. Well that didn’t work out.... turns out this one crinkle ball in particular was his baby, and no matter what, we couldn’t trick him into a different one.

As winter started to melt into spring, and we started to let Tinker out into the front yard. It’s completely fenced in, and I'd sit with him while he explored, sniffing everything he could, with a lust for life.           When I was home (Which was most of the time) he would be my constant shadow. I sew, as well as make jewelry, and whenever, wherever I had a project on the go, Tinker would be right there beside me. I ended up getting him these vintage stools covered in padded fabric, and he would snooze lazily on them beside me as I worked away, occasionally waking up for some fresh water and head pets. Him and Rufus were still super close, cuddling for hours every day, an absolute first for Ruffie. He adopted a small Batman stuffy of mine, and started cuddling with it daily. The days that I had to go to work, he would give me sass all morning (if I put on makeup that seemed to be the give away that I was going out) and then come trotting to the door, as fast as he could, upon arriving back home. He did this hilarious thing when he was upset with me for going out... he’d crawl onto the bed and start biting the blanket. The first time he did it I thought he was stuck or something, but then I tried to pull the blanket away, and he grumble meowed. He would do it anytime I had to go out of town (The longest I was ever away was three nights) and usually when I’d come home from work. It turned out to be like a game of tug of war for him. 

 Before I knew it, a whole year had gone by with this little miracle. I was falling more and more in love with him as time went on, all the while painfully aware that every moment with him was a gift. He started to get a bit more grumbly, and eventually started developing mouth ulcers, apparently something common in cats with stomach cancer. During a check up the vet said it might be time to let him go, but he was still super active. Still eating and drinking a ton, still purred when getting love, and still played actively with his crinkle ball. We decided to treat the ulcers as best we could, and upped his CBD dose. The vet said that if the ulcers didn’t shrink with this treatment, that it might be time to let him go. I knew his lust for life, but alo didn’t want him to suffer. I remember getting him home, and telling him that I would fight for his life as long as he did. I know that cats can’t understand our language, but I feel like some of them are really excellent at picking up intent. He would always look me square in the eye, with whatever vision he had left, and seemed to be intently listening. He would talk back often too, it was pretty incredible.              That week he upped his active factor... Played more than usual, wanted to go outside more, cuddled a ton, and was just an overall super happy to be alive cat. I sent the vet videos of him from that week, and she couldn’t believe it. She agreed that this was a cat who still had living to do, so ulcer meds got added to the pain med list, and he kept on going. 

I started working from home, and that really pleased Tinker, though he became even more bonded to me than I thought possible. It got to the point where I'd open the bathroom door, and there he’d be, sitting like a patient dog, waiting to crawl back into my lap. He took his meds like a champ, and just like that, we were passing the two year mark of bringing him home.

Things with him were mostly great, but he was starting to slow down little by little.

 He started to pee on the floor once in awhile, around the litter box, rather than in it. He prefered to do his business outside, but if someone wasn’t around to take him out, he would let his displeasure be known this way. He started coming and asking for his pain meds at the exact time he was supposed to get them, if not a little earlier. He was getting slower and slower, and I knew that the time was near. I started to build up this steel wall of protection around my heart, because everytime I thought of life without him, I’d feel this overwhelming sense of loss, and couldn’t stop from crying uncontrollably. We took things a day at a time, and things were mostly normal, other than him getting a little slower. A couple of days after my birthday he was playing with his crinkle ball. The next day he didn’t eat much, but still drank a ton and went outside. The next day he didn’t eat anything, but still drank and went outside, albeit slowly. Three days after playing with his crinkle ball he had trouble standing. I looked him in the eyes and could see that my little miracle, the grumpy old man of my life, the cat love of my life, was done. I called the vet, and found out that our favourite Doctor was just getting home from Japan that night. The receptionist booked him in to be put to sleep the next day and I hoped, selfishly, that our she could make it in.            I was with him 24/7 that final week, and spent the last 48 hours on the floor with him. The morning of his appointment i brought him onto my chest, one final time onto the bed. He fell fast asleep, and I got to just feel his warmth and breath for about 4 hours. Finally, but way too soon, it was time. My friend picked me up, and we drove him out, as we had for multiple check ups, him wrapped in a towel on my lap. The wall of protection around my heart was suffering terrible fissures, but I knew that I had to be strong for him. I did my best not to cry or allow my energy to get upset, so as not to upset him. Thankfully Dr.Gold, our favourite vet, was able to make it in. She set aside a room fo us for an hour, dimmed the lights, and had a beautiful hand knit blanket for him. Remembering what he was like that last time he got poked with a needle, I asked them if I could go in the back with him to have the IV put in, and they were kind enough to just do it all right in the room. He didn’t even squawk when they administered it, which just solidified for us how done he was. We were offered more time with him, but I knew he was done, and every moment with him now was a selfish one. He closed his eyes for pets, then looked at me one final time, as the rainbow bridge opened in front of him. 

Afterwards I felt strangely numb, but also calm. I did what I had set out to do, two years previous, and was given so much more than I ever could have hoped for. As I’m typing this I’m crying, and have had to take multiple breaks. Knowing that such a special relationship is over, in these forms, has been harder than I’d care to admit. Being prepared to lose him from the get go hasn’t made grieving any easier. Greif is such a funny thing, that comes for you when you’re least expecting it. I’m bursting into tears much more than I’m comfortable with, but I know things will get easier with time. I’ll never stop missing him, but will always be forever grateful for every single bonus day we had together. 

      Rufus is doing ok now, though he is grieving too. His tail had a droop to it, and was yeowling the nights away... So I did what I did the last time he lost a sibling... He now has a new PF brother, Clue. I may not have much money, or energy, but I saw first hand the difference love and affection can have on a life. Clue is an all black fluffy guy, just like Smigeon was, and has asthma. He’s drooly and sweet, and him and Rufus have already started sleeping on the couch together. There is no way that Tinker could ever be replaced. That’s a hole in my soul that I don’t think will ever fully heal...but knowing that I’m making a difference in another life helps.  There are so many animals in need of loving homes, and not enough homes to house them. If you can, please consider adopting from our local shelter or animal rescue. I get the impulse for wanting a certain breed, but going to a breeder or a pet store is unnecessary. Just as many pure breeds cycle through rescues as not, so if you’re patient you can become the furrever home to the pet of your dreams, for a fraction of the price, and every fee paid to a rescue ensures that they can continue to help more animals.

My time with Tinker taught me to really appreciate life, and see things to be thankful for with crystal like clarity. He’s taught me compassion and patience on a new level, and gave me a lifetime's worth of cat love memories. 

Think of all that your next rescue could teach you, and start looking. Nothing would make me happier than if this story can inspire you to open your heart, and home. It can be hard, it can be painful, but I promise you, it’s worth it.  Please consider donating to Katie’s Place if you have the means. Or your own local animal rescue. http://katiesplaceshelter.com/ Thank you.

Love always,

Elizabeth xoxo

[kaiju-z]

Seon Adventures Episode 11: “ The Shopping Trip (FROM HELL!!!) ”

We continue right where we left off (with a slight retcon, to where Luctan and Mournimar had given Burk directions to a fight club, should he find the time.)

As the tieflings (one in human disguise, naturally), walk about to find the  Abbacus Walk library, they notice  there’s a lot of variety in the races in Sa Doma (It would appear that the closer they get to Crystalgate, the more variation there is). On the South side of town, the usual combo is Humans, Half-Elves and Halflings, with a variety of giant folk and lizard people as they pass along.

While they pass the entrance from which they came, they get weird looks from the two red tiefling guards, that Luctan had taken notice of earlier, but nothing really dings for either side as the boys make a slight detour to the “Queen Nightingale” tavern.

A family establishment, in both senses of the word as adults and hang around, sit around and play around, with a muscular half-elven server giving some entertainment to the kids.

While a little tiefling girl and a goliath boy play tag around them, Luctan overhears and snoops in on a family unit of half-elves, who are in talks with the barkeep, whom we later learn is Medive (or s we figured already, since Gorruk did point it out). The family are to make a trip to Crystalgate in the next couple of months. One they usually  make for a year’s time.

Luctan manages to play things cool as he falls onto the male elf, only getting a slight chiding to lay off the drinking, while Mournimar talks acquaintances with Medive and elaborates on how Gorruck is doing. “A friend of Gorruk is a friend of mine.” Medive says as he continues to give us some advice on Sa Doma.

Things we had already heard from Ficus, mostly.

What we don’t know, but now learn, is that Medive is a married man, husband to the half-elven yolked fellow named Rufus.

Luctan and Mournimar are given advice to stay away from the taverns in the Southern part of the city, as that is where trouble lies (REMEMBER THIS FOR LATER!), but should they look for work, as they appear the adventuring sort, they could speak with the Lawmaster there, as they usually have work that the Dark’sbane army would vehimetly refuse to partake in.

What’s more, the priestes of Bellinas has been having trouble lately,s what they learn.

With nothing else to add to the conversation, the boys decide to take a seat and eat some fine meats and drink some fine drinks (whiskey and brandy respectively).

While the boys nom, we cut to Belli and Ficus, who are on their way to the temple of Keemis, Goddess of Birth and Death, with Ficus having re-disguised himself as a human man.

Before long they would arrive at the temple of Keemis. It seems to be a lot more simplistic in design, compared to others. The symbol of a snake eating it’s own tail on it.  Belli points “Hey, look! It’s like what Fantasy Marylin Manson tried to do.”  Belli does not approve of the minimalism. Hoards and shinys, do.

Going inside, the duo meet up with Kit, presenting herself as her usual changeling self, and a purple tiefling man named Rosef, a friend of the two rogues and, as it has been set up from last session, a drug dealer.

What follows is a introduction for and to Belli, before the trio aquire Summershade for themselves. A type of experimental batch. How experimental? This is the second batch, basically. (Belli ain’t no pussy. She wants that good shit.)

Before the three leave together, they talk of the gods. “Keemis will take us when our time is right. Why not enjoy ourselves until then, you follow?!”Rosef states. And absolutely doesn’t believe Belli when she claims they met Dyunificus (or a representation of him at least).

As the three make their leave to do the drugs, some Beli/Kit flirting happening in the process, we cut to Burk, who gets a room for himself and Rimefang, where he tries to hold a conversation with his baby boy, whomst he has adopted.

Sadly, he can’t understand draconic and Rimefang becomes visually perplexed (MAYBE EVEN SAD?!) that his Goblin dad doesn’t get his lingo. It doesn’t take Burk long to go and look for a translator, lucking out with a Lizardfolk man, whom helps him with some mediating with Rimefang. So far he’s called Burk “Dad” in Draconic.

And advice to help the little one learn common.

And so comes the time for Rimefang’s first word in Common.

“Kill.” Burk is a froud FÄTHER.

Returning back to their room,  Burk gives bedtime stories for Rimefang. “And then everyone died.”Rimefang is picking up random words. He calls Burk “Dad”.

Back with the tieflings, they leave the tavern after a hearty meal and double pistols and a wink. And make their way to the place they were originally planning on going. 

Luctan talks with a prostitute along the way, having noticed that she seemed quite miserable. But his kind gesture only earns him smoke, from her cigarette, to the face.

Luctan retaliates, by leaving and using thaumaturgy to make a loud crashing noise inside the establishment she works off from. Though she doesn’t go in.

They eventually reach the Library Tavern, where the atmosphere inside is warm and welcoming. A magical fire heats the building’s insides from the fireplace as the two take note of all the shelves. It’s actually kind of wild how many books are in here.

Each tiefling checks for a book that would interest them. Mournimar finds his quarry imediatelly, a book on the constellations. A guide with many pictures, and takes to a sofa,to do some reading.

Meanwhile, Luctan gets his hands on a book by some weirdo named “Taryon Darrington” and immediatelly doesn’t believe the guy’s legit in his writings. This all seems frankly made up. Really?! A Kraken?!

Instead, he continues with his search and then gets something that really catches his eye. The book “ Haanderstaad “,  Scribed by “Gillan Monroe and written by Kheya Steelheart, a brave dwarven woman and adventurer in her own right.

It writes about the misdeeds of a clan of bandids. Mountainspine” is the clan. Referred to often as simply... The Spine.  - A Tribe of Dwarven bandits from about 10 years back and how they would take advantage of the effort of war to increase their raids. It told of how they’d get more powerful, the trials and tribulations of living this lifestyle and the lessons one could take from it.

Taken interest, the two proceed to buy these two books from a very strong, elderly Goblin woman, whom Mournimar is just aghast by, but Luctan is just completely giddy over.

With a transaction made, the two proceed to Peppery Pete’s.

All the while, Amelia keeps on snoozoing. Good times.

Back with the trio, they eventually reach Ficus’ hideout after much walking and flirtations with orcish fellows.

There, they do drugs and it basically plays off like every video of a bunch of cats on catnip. Lots of face touching and poking and drawing dicks on Ficus face. So many dicks. So many.

So. Many.

That and Ficus drinks a potion, which makes his veins glow a bright blue. Which Belli adds to with the Dancing Lights, basically creating a mini-rave inside of this safe house, where talks of waifus and whatnot occurs.

There was cake at some point in their backstory. It was wild. Ficus is sometimes so proud.

As the girls go outside, we cut back to Luctan and Mournimar, who manage to score a Bag of Colding from Peppery Pete’s, along with a business arrangement to represent him and his wares during the Festival in less than two months in Crystalgate. Some pricess lowered, naturally. There is also talk of magical items and enchantments to be applied, if possible.

The boys get some information on the tournament. Some that they knew, about the accidents that may happen,and some that they didn’t, that every faction on the continent gets represented during the tournament. Usually by teams of 4-5 members.

As the conversation draws to an end, they get more information on the priestess of Bellinas’ woes. There’ve been disappearances happening lately and Potencia worship has been occuring more often than not.

That said, the boys make their leave from Peter’s and proceed to gather the rest of the party, having decided to investigate these happenings.

Amelia, with a killer hangover, joins them and they soon collect Burk and Rimefang. Together, the six (Amelia, Burk, Luctan, Morgan, Mournimar and Rimefang) get to Keemis’ temple and speak with the high as a kite Rosef, explaining their search and want to involve themselves in the drama involving Potencia’s worshippers.

Rosef sighs, elaborating that he doesn’t involve himself with other deities, beyond his own. They eventually leave and carry on Northward, searching for the next 1-2-3-4 hours (and that’s with a roll of 19! Seriously, the tiefling boys were pretty on their game this day with same rolls).

They eventually find Belli, alongside a disguised Kit. Whom appears to them as a pink tiefling (the ribbon tied to her right horn). They are writing weird symbols on the wall of the temple of Honos.  Belli’s high af. And neither of the ravenhaired boys notice it.

They try to bring Belli along, back to the taver, having realized they’d have to update everyone in the morning. With a 19 roll, Lucky Luck Luckily picks up Belli over his shoulder and does the carrying, while getting “pounded by mighty fists” on the back. Ah, sibling shenans.

Everyone gets rooms!

Burk and Rimefang share a bed, as they are small sized, Amelia takes a room for herself with a double bed, getting all that room to sleep in and the remaining four take a third room, where Morgan guards the door, while Belli sleeps on top of the tieflings, while Luctan does some reading (as best he can).

Belli has completed her quest! (Full Steamer Ahead).

The following day, they are woken early on by the quaking of the ground (Luctan gets blamed, since he did do an earth shake on the way back, passing by the prostitute’s establishment).

His innocence is soon established as the bunch exit the building, seeing a pillar of smoke rise to the sky from far away. History tells Belli, Burk and Mournimar that this is from a volcano, which hasn’t errupted in 2,000 years!

Having updated each other on the Potencia activity and thinking it connected somehow (*cough, it’s not, as our Dm stated later on, since this was related to the ball from sessions 7-8) and the party takes off to the temple of Bellinas, where a motherly human woman in sleepwear stands outside, tired and slightly graying. 

The Priestess with a very elaborate facial scar, introduces herself as Nash and we, in turn, introduce ourselves by names and party. (Apt, as this Side-Quest is called “Who you gonna call?!” She looks confused as Belli introduces herself, seeing as she shares a name with Nash’s Godess). We learn more of the disappearances. Details, such as places of vanishment and common patters, like the drunk, the lonely, those who wouldn’t be missed. The usual victims, basically.

She, Nash, radiates that Big Mom energy and (I can say this as Luctan’s player at least, Luctan feels a great urge to help her, regardless. He is the momma’s boy of the party. It’s him.) is a bonafide doo-gooder. Gosh darn heck it!

We agree to help, having experience with taking down cults (Word travels fast, even in a low tech world as this) and Nash is impressed. With all possible details that we can think of being covered, The party sets off to the Southern part of town.

(TOLD YOUUUU!)

We find ourselves in one of the locations that Nash gave us, that of the  The Scared Heart tavern. A fucking dingy place, where we pass by a smiling troll man (nice guy, totes), before entering. Inside, we speak with the barkeep, regarding the missing man, who had been working here. And we pay him, a Golliath, 10 gold to make a quick investigation.

Burk does good with a roll of perception, recognizing someone.

One of his three targets. A red tiefling with blue hair, a dagger at his side. One, whom recognized Burk’s armor the moment he had entered and had looked away. Possibly, thanks to Mournimar speaking with him and the man’s rude response, it’s when it clicked for Burk. The man, who killed his cousin Sam.

As the quartet  make their way up the stairs, Burk hands Rimefang to Amelia, while he approaches the devil man, sweating buckets at the mere presence of the scarred Gorbarian (I WILL MAKE THIS A THING, DAGNABBIT!)

Burk confronts the man. And bluffs that he wants to hire him for a job, asking him what his opinion was of goblins. “Feral, violent things.”

Burk corrects the man that most goblins aren’t violent. Except himself. 

He rages.

And he lops off the deep red tiefling’s arm, spraying the room with plenty of blood.

He soon knocks the slayer of his kin out and bribes the Golliath with all the gold he has, to keep him quiet. As this is the shadiest part of town, it works. He takes a room, where he plans to spend some quallity time with his victim, while Amelia is urged by the Golliath to collect water and clean up the mess Burk made.

Rimefang at her side, having to be held back by Amelia as Burk takes the unnamed tiefling away.

Upstairs the four go and investigate for any clues, but beyond the symbol of Potencia, we don’t find anything of note, sadly. Deciding to move on with a different location, nearby, they ask Amelia to avoid drinking, so as not to make herself a target, while she waves at them with the lopped off arm of the tiefling. (It’s been a day, man. It’s been a daaaay.)

From the second location, Mournimar gets a familiar feeling and theorises that Lazarus is involved here... But as it were, he can’t be sure. Outside the building we find a trail of blood and footsteps in the dirt and with Morgan’s experr snoofer, we reach the back of a tavern, called “The Venomous Row.”

The backdoor is closed, locked even. 

Some planning occurs and, with 20 minutes of Pass Without a Trace to spare, the trio collect the rest of the party, but Burk and go back to the backdoor of the tavern.

Ficus opens the door with a Knock Spell and inside we investigate the stench coming off of the barrels...

Much to our shock, we find a body, in rigor mortis, cut apart in one of those barrels. The target, based on his condition, we deduce that he was very much alive, while he was being destroyed. The torture lasting for days, before the man passed.

With a 21 history check, Mournimar recognizes the handy work and remembers the person, whom would have done this.

Not Lazarus.

But Kah’lia Da’vir. Mournimar’s very much living mother.

The boy is in panic and is comforted by Belli and Luctan, who keep him safe and sane in this trying time.

The lot agree to collect Burk and take their findings to the Lawmaster. (Along the way,  Amelia wiggles her brows, when Belli mentions that Amelia could yeet Mournimar out of a window, while they make plans on how to proceed ahead).

With a clean Burk at their side, they visit the Lawmaster’s building, but are forced to partake in the buroacracy of talking to fucking Stacy. The Half-Drow secretary, who keeps talking about appointments and shit.

This leads them to nowhere. Not even Amelia exhuding that Big Lesbian Energy can help them. Stacy is such a Stacy.

With their attempts not working out, Luctan decides to take the reins of the situation and heads off, followed by a determined Mournimar. Everyone goes along as they draw close to the tavern, before Luctan nods for Mournimar to follow him in a back alley.

Luctan takes his ring off and hands it to Mournimar. In case they find MarMar’s mother inside they’d need time to prepare if they have an all out battle with the cultists of Potencia...

Mournimar takes the ring, puts it on and takes the form of “Michael Moonglow”, aka. “Mike”.

Walking out, Ficus is, to say the least, very impressed with Luctan’s true form. Luctan appreciates this.

This settled, the bunch take to “The Venomous Row”’s front entrance, going in. All of us. All Nine of us. With Morgan and Rimefang. (In hindsight, we should have had a few folks come in from the front and a few from the back, but aah, emotions were on high and Wisdom is in low supply).

Taking to a table, Luctan can tell that at least five people have their eyes on the Cultbusters:  Two bartender women, two patrons sitting at a table with another person (at another angle), a man sitting next to a male bartender and a man sitting next to a fireplace. And shares with the gang.

There is a backroom, on the other side of the bar and Belli sends her familiar, in fly form, to investigate.

There, he finds a ravenhaired woman and a man, who is writing down something.  As this is happening, Luctan manages to bluff, with some play acting and good rolling, that Belli has passed out from going on a pub crawl.

Buggy (as I will refer to the familiar, until Jes gives them a name) flies around and Belli sees markings in a language she doesn’t know, on the book. As well as Potencia’s symbol. 

As a person goes inside, Luctan whispers to Belli, who snaps back out of things, to cast sleep on as many people as possible.

And the session ends here (And out of character knowledge, we learn that there are guards outside the establishment).

Previous Episode / Next Episode

[searchingwardrobes]

Natural Opposite: Re-post of 2/16

Many thanks to my beta, @distant-rose, as well as my artist @optomisticgirl. You can check out her chapter art here: Chapter Two I love the way she captured the craziness of Comic-Con when our OTP first meet!

Summary: Dance is more than Emma Swan’s career; it’s practically saved her life on more than one occasion. But when it comes to reality TV shows, she’s always danced in the shadows of her twin brother David and her sister Elsa. Her first season as a pro on Dancing With the Stars was a disaster, and she enters her second season determined to prove herself. All she needs is a good partner. Hollywood bad boy and ladies’ man Killian Jones isn’t what she had in mind.

Rating: M for mature themes, steamy dance routines, and sexy times (But NOT smut)

Trigger warnings: discussions of online solicitation of a minor, bullying, statutory rape, and emotionally abusive/controlling relationships; stalking; anti-Rumbelle, anti-Neal

Can also be read on Ao3

Tagging: (let me know if you want to be added to my tag list) @snowbellewells @kmomof4 @jennjenn615 @kday426 @bethacaciakay @teamhook @whimsicallyenchantedrose @snidgetsafan @delirious-latenight-laughs @winterbaby89 @followbatb @onceuponaprincessworld @hollyethecurious @ohmakemeahercules

Chapter Two: Anywhere But Here

“So we’re on our way to San Diego,” Emma said into the camera, forcing a stage smile onto her face. She also used a peppier voice than she normally would. She had been dancing since she was in her early teens; she knew how to act. Yet even her decade’s worth of stage experience couldn’t mask all of her nerves. She kept gnawing on her bottom lip and rubbing her palms up and down her jeans as she glanced out the tinted windows of the limousine.

Emma looked back into the camera and chuckled. “Now I know how the celebs feel when they meet us! I have no idea what to expect.”

“I think that’s enough for now,” the camera guy told her flatly as he lowered his equipment to his lap.

Emma sagged against the leather seats in relief. One thing she would need to get used to if she wanted to win the mirror ball trophy was the constant presence of the cameras. They called it “reality television,” but this was Emma’s second show like this. She knew better. On So You Think You Can Dance, they told Elsa she didn’t seem excited enough when she came out of the auditorium with her ticket to Vegas, so they made her do it over again. On Dancing with the Stars, the pros knew to turn it on or dial up the drama whenever the cameras were present. Elsa and David had both warned her how draining it became as the season wore on. And here she was, weary on day one.

But Emma chalked it all up to this scheme of Regina’s. Since when were both the celeb and the pro in the dark? Emma had a notoriously prickly personality, and Regina knew it. This little meeting could go sideways fast. At least with Leroy, she had time to prepare herself.

The limo pulled around to the back of the convention center and parked near a door marked “security entrance.” A young woman with a lanyard around her neck with an official SDCC tag greeted Emma and the camera crew, who had already started filming again. She guided them inside and down a hallway so dark, Emma had to push her sunglasses on top of her head. The woman stopped right at a door with a star taped to it. When Emma read it, her jaw dropped, and she turned to stare in surprise at the camera crew.

“Have fun,” the woman said almost enviously as she scurried away.

Emma blinked rapidly. “This, this doesn’t make sense.”

If Regina had wanted a reaction, she was certainly getting one. The star on the door read “Cast of Neverland.” It was ABC’s biggest hit show. And actors on hit shows didn’t do Dancing With the Stars. They just didn’t. Emma’s mind raced as she approached the door. She could discount the show’s lead right off the bat. Killian Jones, who played Captain Hook, was the hottest thing in Hollywood right now. His face graced every magazine; both the legitimate ones and the tabloids. No one that popular did a show like DWTS. It would hurt their career more than help it, or at least, that was the assumption.

She thought maybe it could be Robbie Malcolm who played the show’s villain, Peter Pan. Teen actors, even popular ones, could get away with competing on the dance show, and it even helped some of their careers. But everyone knew that he had just been cast in the next Pirates of the Caribbean movie; no way did he have time to do the show. So that narrowed it down to one of the minor actors. Rufus Black, who played one of the lost boys, or maybe Christopher Rogers who played Mr. Smee. But did those minor cast members even attend Comic Con?

“Ms. Swan?” one of the crew asked tentatively.

“Right,” she said, shaking her head and turning the door knob. “Hello?” she called tentatively as the door swung open.

A raucous cheer rose up as Emma walked through the door. Of course. They knew one of their cast members was meeting his pro dancer today. Emma’s gaze traveled over the group in the green room, her eyes landing on a group of teenagers in one corner. There was Robbie Malcolm and the three actors who played the Darling children. John and Michael Darling! She had forgotten about them. Surely one of them was her partner. She took a step tentatively towards them.

“Which one of you is my partner?” Emma asked. She didn’t have to force enthusiasm this time. A partner from a hit show was a huge advantage, even if the actor was thirteen or fourteen years old.

The boys blushed and shoved one another. Robbie Malcolm clapped a hand on the younger one’s shoulder. “They wish!” he chuckled.

“I hate to disappoint you, lass, but your partner would be me.”

Emma felt the color drain from her face as she turned to face the man who owned the deep, British accent. Killian Jones sauntered towards her, looking unfairly handsome in skinny jeans and a sky blue shirt. Her first thought was that his eyes really were as blue as they looked in photographs. Then he had the audacity to wink at her. She should have known.

“I was hoping it would be you,” he said to her with a waggle of his eyebrows. And before she even knew what was happening, he took her hand, bent, and kissed it.

Before Emma remembered the cameras, she rolled her eyes and snatched her hand away. “So you’re an old-fashioned gentleman, huh?”

He smiled a dazzling smile that should have been illegal. “Oh, yes. I’m always a gentleman.”

Great. She would be spending the entire season dodging this playboy’s pick-up lines. Regina better not expect her to flirt back. The last thing Killian Jones needed was for his ego to get any bigger. Emma wasn’t one to follow celebrity gossip, but even she knew that the man had a reputation.

Emma crossed her arms and glowered at the man in front of her who was grinning like a Cheshire cat. Until one of the crew cleared his throat loudly. Emma dropped her arms to her side and forced a friendlier expression on her face. She opened her mouth to speak, but before she could get a word out, the young woman with the clipboard returned.

“We gotta move,” she told everyone, “your panel is starting.”

Killian turned to her with a lopsided grin and a tiny nod, “See you on stage, love.”

Emma shook her head, confused. “No, genius, we have to rehearse. Or did they not spell that out for you?”

He only grinned wider at her surliness. “They told me you were a feisty one. “ He reached out and fiddled with a lock of her hair, then leaned closer. “I know I will be in your capable hands all season, Ms. Swan. I was referring to the exclusive announcement of my dancing partner. For the fans?”

“Mr. Jones!” the woman behind them called.

He winked one last time and left her in the now empty green room, feeling completely turned upside down.

“Ms. Swan,” the woman called, “you need to come, too.”

In a daze, Emma followed the woman back down the same dark corridor. As they walked, the sound of frenzied screaming grew louder and louder. Emma and the SDCC worker caught up to the cast of Neverland, the camera crew following them. They all gathered at the bottom of a set of risers. Two of Emma’s camera guys followed the clipboard lady around the curtains so they could film from in front of the stage. The hostess of the panel discussion was whipping the crowd into a fervor, asking if they were ready three or four times. Emma rolled her eyes again.

“First up is everyone’s favorite evil teenager. The most villainous, sadistic version of Peter Pan. That’s right – it’s Robbie Malcolm!”

Fans cheered loudly, several teenage girls screaming, “I love you!” at the top of their lungs. Rose Moore, who played Tinkerbell, was announced next. Then the hostess really laid it on thick.

“And now, the man who brings the house down every year. Everyone’s favorite pirate. The devilishly handsome KILLIAN JONES!!!!”

Emma watched him jog lithely up the riser steps and wave to the crowd as he found his place beside Rose. At least he’s coordinated, she thought wryly. The rest of the cast was announced (Emma vaguely wondered if it hurt their feelings that they didn’t get as many rousing cheers as the first three), and then the hostess started asking questions collected on twitter. Emma had never actually watched the show, so she couldn’t really follow everything and quickly got bored. It was the story of Peter Pan turned on its head, that was all she knew. Hook was the hero while Pan was the villain. And Tinkerbell was Hook’s love interest. Emma would have to be living under a rock not to know that. “Captain Fairy” shippers went insane over the fictional couple.

“Killian, I have to ask,” a breathless fan asked from a microphone set up at the back of the ballroom, “are you and Rose a couple in real life? You have such amazing chemistry.”

This was something else a person would have to live under rock not to know. The two actors were constantly posting selfies from set and hitting the night life together around LA. Emma craned her neck to see Killian Jones’s answer.

“We do have chemistry,” he said, turning to Rose and lifting her hand for a kiss just as he had done with Emma earlier, “but alas, we are just friends.”

Emma rolled her eyes again. The man was full of it!

“Speaking of chemistry,” the hostess segued, “I heard a rumor that you’re going to need some on the dance floor, Killian?”

The crowd obviously didn’t get it yet, although there was a wave of excited whispers.

“That’s right,” Killian said, leaning into his microphone, “I will be doing the next season of Dancing With the Stars.”

The audience went absolutely wild with the news, and it took the hostess a few moments to calm them down. “Wow, that’s exciting,” she enthused, “and do you know yet who your partner will be?”

“Yes, I do,” Killian replied, flashing that dazzling smile of his, “as a matter of fact, she’s right back stage.”

Emma started fidgeting with nervousness as the crowd once again went wild. She wasn’t a very big name yet on DWTS. Elsa would have been an exciting partner, or Ruby, or Ariel. But Emma? She hoped the crowd wouldn’t be too disappointed when she made her appearance.

“You guys want to meet her?” the hostess asked, practically bouncing with excitement. The crowd cheered in the affirmative. “Okay, then, let’s bring her out!”

Emma was almost blinded by the flashbulbs going off when she walked on stage. She managed to smile and wave despite the spots dancing before her eyes. The panel hostess yelled her name over the raucous cheers of the crowd. The sound relieved Emma even as it pounded in her ears. Killian rose from his chair, and Emma accepted his friendly hug with an equally friendly smile. Killian then took a step back and bowed to her.

“Shall we dance?”

If the cheers from the crowd were deafening before, they were about to burst her eardrums now. She played along, tilting her chin and smiling down at Killian flirtatiously as she accepted his hand. She may have botched their initial meeting, but Regina would eat up her performance now. Killian placed his other hand at her waist when he rose. Emma took a mental note of all the things she needed to fix about his frame, but she kept the smile plastered on her face. The crowd was chanting, “waltz! waltz! waltz!” She could only guess it had something to do with the show.

Killian turned to the audience, “She’s a pro, so I don’t need to tell her the one rule, do I?”

The audience chanted back almost in perfect unison, “Pick a partner who knows what he’s doing!”

Killian began a simple box step, and Emma was pleasantly surprised at how he led her around the tight stage. He had at least learned the basics of a waltz on Neverland. Maybe this partnership wouldn’t be so bad after all.

But then he pulled her close, and Emma almost gave a small shout of surprise. The audience hooted. Then Killian Jones dipped her.

Smirking down at her, he said, “I’m ready to get whipped into shape, pro. Don’t be afraid to, you know,” here he winked, “really get into it.”

Emma took it back. She was going to kill Regina.

[bbbb-barnes]

Look After You - Bucky Barnes X Reader [2]

 A/N OKAY HI!! (I’m Elle by the way) Quick one just to let you know this is my secondary blog, im pretty new to Tumblr not sure how it works tbh but you can reach me here orrrr @jbbtraash with is my primary but ill keep the fic coming on this account. If you like this please let me know I love feedback and would love to get to know some of you so thank you if you’ve reacted to the first chapter it means the world!! This fic is a slow burn but will be introducing some of your favourite avengers characters in the next chapt so hold tight.

Summery; Bucky Barnes discovers his sister is still alive and finds comfort in the endearing nurse that cares for his dying sibling 

Chapter 1 

Warnings; mention of dementia (??) angst, crying 

Word count; 1770 

The harrowing feeling of looking around for help in an overwhelming situation only to realise YOU are the person who is supposed to know what to do is truly terrifying. The woman was 86 years old and had stage 3 Dementia and was hysterical because she thought, no she was adamant a highly trained assassin that had recently obliterated the United Nations building was her brother that had died in 1943. As utterly absurd as it all sounded, something deep down wanted you to believe this woman and as you looked into her eyes, filled with utter confusion, pure shock and probably the scariest shimmer of hope, one you had never seen before as she begged you to help her find him, begged you to help her bring her Bucky home, finally.

 That was a month ago, one whole month. You promised to Rebecca you would help her, you didn’t know why seen as all your professional training has steered you away from humouring the seemingly crazy ideals dementia patients got into their heads. You could lose your damn job, she told you not to tell her children as it would only worry them, and you knew better than to tell your supervisors at work. You were trying to be coy, you didn’t let on to Becca you were helping just as much as you were because that really would get her hopes up, however you had found yourself getting progressively more and more invested in this mystery as certain things began to unravel. Thankfully day to day didn’t change, you still did your due diligence to care for this woman day in and day out. These days she just asked more about him which made you cringe and try to answer as diplomatically as possible. Truth be told Rebecca’s mental state was rapidly deteriorating and you were quickly searching for an answer before she ran out of time. One thing was for sure, that man was Bucky Barnes. The news report even released his name James Buchanan Barnes and comparing the grainy CCTV photograph to the watermarked, old photograph of Bucky Rebecca kept in a frame by her bed proved it clear as day, it was the same person.

“Okay Rebecca, that’s me finished for today do you need anything before I head home?” I asked softly popping my head around her bedroom door. She was bundled up in the blankets I had thrown over her just 10 minutes previous in an attempt to protect her from the freezing cold November air that you just could not seem to escape from. Her bedroom light was off and the garish room, filled with pink frills, even more pictures and a rather large, obnoxious vanity was lit dimly by the pink bedside lamp. The old lady grasped an old book between her weathered hands and smiled vacantly up at you.

“Oh, Mother, come here please, read for me?” Her voice, much like her eyes, was distant and pleading, imitating that of a small child you sighed sadly before stepping into the light of the room, rounding the small space in a few steps and sitting by her on the rosy pink bedspread, this was not uncommon anymore and it was almost always at night time. It always surprised you however, that she couldn’t remember what she did 10 minutes ago but her she recalled her childhood with crystal clarity even reverting back to that same, scared child sometimes when the darkness hit…

“Rebecca, It’s me. Y/N I am your nurse.” You spoke firmly and clearly to her your voice holding familiarity that you hoped she would notice and clutching her cold hands. You looked deep into her eyes, willing her to come back to you.

“Mama, where are we? shouldn’t we get to the shelter the telegram said there’s another one due tonight” her distant voice more panicked now, her head whipped around the room, her face etched with confusion and worry, and you could just tell by her eyes, she wasn’t here right now. She started scrambling at the various blankets that caged her in attempting to get up, her movements jerky and urgent. You stayed calm, you always had to stay calm. You placed your hands softly and slowly on her shoulders, guiding her back towards the bed. She looked utterly lost and it broke your heart.

“Rebecca Barnes. You are safe. I am here with you, I won’t let anything happen to you. I’ll look after you” you repeated those words over and over until your voice didn’t sound like your own and the words didn’t sound real anymore tucking her back in to bed, tenderly smoothing down her soft hair. Calm tone of voice. Repetitive actions. Soothing nature.

 You left the house one hour and forty minutes later than usual however if it was up to you, you wouldn’t have left at all. You hated leaving her especially these days when she was becoming a danger to herself but ‘company policy’. You huffed and pulled your large coat tighter around your frame, loose tendrils of hair dancing around your face in the bitter wind, you hurried down the badly lit road and felt relief flood your senses as you quickly rounded on to a lighter and busier street with people whisking past you, arms full of shopping bags and you made a mental note to start Christmas shopping soon. It was 9:30pm but consumerism stops for no man and the multiple store fronts that littered the long road twinkled and gleamed with the achingly bright Christmas lights. You slowed your brisk walk down to a stroll and allowed yourself to take in the festive atmosphere, you reached the end of the street and stood idly by the bus stop allowing yourself a moment to just breathe, you closed your eyes and leaned your head back against the metal pole of the bus stop for a few golden, silent minutes, you shivered as a vivacious gust of wind and an obnoxious squealing of tires signalled the arrival of the bus and you jumped back up again thankful for the opportunity for some slight warmth.

 The bus home was uneventful and boring, and you jumped off at your stop, ecstatic to be so close to a shower, some food and your bed. You almost sprinted the block that separates the bus stop and your apartment block, your sneakers squeaking against the linoleum of the stairs as you took two at a time because the elevator was broken again. Three floors up and you arrived at your destination unlocking the door with freezing and fumbling fingers you almost threw yourself inside emitting a loud sigh as you did so your back pressed against the front door. Finally. It wasn’t much, but it was home, the apartment had a shared kitchen and living area and was all open plan, one door led off to your bedroom which was cosy to say the least and another door adjacent to your bedroom housed a big bathroom. You had filled the place with blankets, cushions, candles, fairy-lights and pretty much anything and everything to make the place homelier.

 “Rufus” You called out in a sickly sweet baby voice, crouching down and squinting around the large room and on command your very large and very fluffy ginger rag-doll cat Rufus came slinking out from under one of the many throw cushions positioned on the sofa, he plodded his way over to you and purred at all the attention you were giving him.

 An hour later, you were showered, fed and warm. You had Rufus cuddled up to your side and a movie you weren’t paying attention to playing on the TV. Your mind was in overdrive as it had been non-stop for the past month, chewing on your lip you pulled your laptop towards you opening it up to the last web page you had visited.

“Captain America and the notorious Winter Soldier fought side by side in elite World War Two special unit ‘The Howling Commandos’ sources say the pair share the same ‘Super Solider Serum’ famously injected into Mr Steven Rogers”

You had done the reading, you had done the research, this had been your night time routine for a whole month. Your eyes fell on the tatted black notebook that lay carelessly strewn on the coffee table in that book was everything you knew about James Buchanan Barnes, from when he was born, to when he ‘died’, leaked files from his years as a HYDRA agent, Captain America’s best friend and now taking up camp in the shiny new avenger building in New York. Rufus let out a soft meow beside you.

 “Yeah, I know buddy, I’m going insane” you sighed, scratching behind his ears.

 Your eyes drifted to the window and instantly fell on the distant, ostentatious silver building that was ‘Avengers HQ’ you raked a hand through your hair in frustration, if you knew one thing for sure it was that you needed to talk to Steve Rogers, he would know what to do however, you knew getting hold of Captain America wouldn’t be easy but it was proving to be frankly impossible. You had tried everything, you called and he didn’t take phone calls, apparently he doesn’t take meetings with random strangers, certainly doesn’t answer his emails (though you’re not sure if he even knows what an email is), you even turned up, at the tower and demanded to see him but you just got escorted away by security in the front lobby. So technically they had led you, forced you into this, you stared nervously at the white name badge you had placed neatly on the coffee table by the notebook. You had booked a day off work and somehow convinced Tony Stark’s administrative team you were an interested investor looking for a stake in Stark Industries, and it had taken a month to be invited to group guided tour of the tower to assess assets and talk numbers. All you needed to do was break away from the group, find Captain America convince him to help you find your dying patients brother, who happened to be his best friend, who happened to be a brain washed assassin, in a place full of high tech security and enhanced individuals. You groaned and threw your head back against the sofa your stomach turning with the nerves and your head swirling with all the possible things that could go wrong as you fingers massaged your temples.

You clambered into bed and set your alarm for 7:30am you let your head sink back into the fluffy pillows and shut your eyes in a feeble attempt to try and get some sleep. Tomorrow was going to be an eventful day.

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@mizz-kraziii

[the-master-cylinder]

SUMMARY At University of Zurich Institute of Medicine in Switzerland, Herbert West brings his dead professor, Dr. Hans Gruber, back to life. There are horrific side-effects, however; as West explains, the dosage was too large. When accused of killing Gruber, West counters: “I gave him life!”

West arrives at Miskatonic University in New England in order to further his studies as a medical student. He rents a room from fellow medical student Dan Cain and converts the building’s basement into his own personal laboratory. West demonstrates his reanimating reagent to Dan by reanimating Dan’s dead cat Rufus. Dan’s fiancée Megan Halsey, daughter of the medical school’s dean, walks in on this experiment and is horrified. Dan tries to tell the dean about West’s success in reanimating the dead cat, but the dean does not believe him. When Dan insists, the dean infers that Dan and West have gone mad. Barred from the school, West and Dan sneak into the morgue to test the reagent on a human subject in an attempt to prove that the reagent works, and thereby salvage their medical careers. The corpse they inject comes back to life, but in a frenetic and violent zombie-like state. Dr. Halsey stumbles upon the scene and, despite attempts by both West and Dan to save him, he gets killed by the reanimated corpse, which West then kills with a bone-saw. Unfazed by the violence and excited at the prospect of working with a freshly dead specimen, West injects Dr. Halsey’s body with his reanimating reagent. Dr. Halsey returns to life, also in a psychotic, zombie-like state. Megan chances upon the scene, and is nearly hysterical. Meanwhile, Dan collapses in shock.

Dr. Halsey’s colleague Dr. Carl Hill, a professor and researcher at the hospital, takes charge of Dr. Halsey, whom he puts in a padded observation cell adjacent to his office. He carries out a surgical operation on him, lobotomizing him. During the course of this operation, he discovers that Dr. Halsey is not sick, but dead and reanimated. Dr. Hill goes to West’s basement lab and attempts to blackmail him into surrendering his reagent and notes, hoping to take credit for West’s discovery. West offers to demonstrate the reagent and puts a few drops of it onto a microscope slide with dead cat tissue. As Dr. Hill peers through the microscope at this slide, West clobbers him from behind with a shovel, and then decapitates him, snarling “plagiarist!” as he drives the blade of the shovel through Dr. Hill’s neck. West then reanimates Dr. Hill’s head and body separately. While West is questioning Dr. Hill’s head and taking notes, Dr. Hill’s body sneaks up behind him and knocks him unconscious. The body carries the head back to Dr. Hill’s office, with West’s reagent and notes.

In his re-animated state, Dr. Hill acquires the ability to control other re-animated corpses telepathically, after conducting brain surgery on them. He then directs Dr. Halsey to snatch Megan away from Dan. While being carried to the morgue by her reanimated father, Megan faints. When she arrives, Dr. Hill strips her naked and straps her unconscious body to a table. She regains consciousness as Hill begins to sexually abuse her, including touching her breasts and placing his bloody severed head between her legs. West and Dan track Halsey to the morgue. West distracts Dr. Hill while Dan frees Megan. Dr. Hill reveals that he has reanimated and lobotomized several corpses from the morgue, rendering them susceptible to mind control as Halsey is. However, Megan’s voice reawakens a protectiveness in her father, who then fights off the other corpses long enough for Dan and Megan to escape. In the ensuing chaos, West injects Dr. Hill’s body with a lethal overdose of the reagent. Dr. Hill’s body mutates rapidly and attacks West, who screams out to Dan to save his work before being pulled away by Dr. Hill’s mutated entrails.

Dan retrieves the satchel containing West’s reagent and notes. As Dan and Megan flee the morgue, one of the reanimated corpses attacks and strangles Megan. Dan takes her to the hospital emergency room and tries to revive her, but she is quite dead. In despair, he injects her with West’s reagent. As the scene fades to black, Megan, apparently revived, can be heard screaming.

DEVELOPMENT When thinking of the sort of person who would have written a movie as bloody and outlandish as The Re-Animator, one might not immediately think of someone who teaches literature at a New York college but that’s exactly what screenwriter Dennis Paoli does for a living when not working on film scripts. Paoli has worked on and off with Re-Animator director Stuart Gordon since their high school days in Chicago, collaborating on projects that have ranged from comedy skits to a stage version of the hero epic Beowolf. By the time Gordon and William Norris contacted Paoli about the idea of collaborating on a Lovecraft script, Paoli’s academic pursuits had primed him for a venture into the bizarre.

Paoli says that he was originally brought onto the project as “the Gothic consultant,” because at the time he was working on his PHD in 18th and 19th century Gothic fiction. Paoli found that his knowledge of this style of literature could be applied to the task of adapting that latter-day Gothic H.P. Lovecraft. “The Gothics’ Paoli says, ” were the first kind of novels written. It’s very strange what’s happened to them. On the one hand, when you say Gothics you think of these current formula romances, but in their time, the first Gothics were the experimental novels. They would try anything to tell a story. They strove for effect, to have an immediate and violent effect on the reader. So they were banned in many places. In the House of Commons in England they called for a stop to romances, especially Gothic romances, because they were believed to be corruptive-just the same argument you get today.”

The Gothic-style source material for The Re-Animator was a series of six grisly stories by Lovecraft revolving around the mad scientist Herbert West. In a quest to conquer death, West concocts a serum that can re-animate dead bodies. The serum produces macabre results and West spends six stories refining his ghastly experiment.

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At first The Re-Animator was envisioned as a series of 13 half-hour episodes to be produced for either syndicated or cable TV. Once an outline was drawn up, Paoli says that William Norris wrote the first half-hour pilot, but then the collaborators found that there seemed to be more interest in an hour show that might be included in an already existing anthology series. Paoli expanded the script to an hour, and then went on to expand it again to an hour and-a-half when prospects arose to produce the story as a feature film.

Adapting Lovecraft to create a violent, Gothic effect on screen has its problems, says Paoli, which may account for the mediocrity of previous Lovecraft films. One problem, says Paoli, is that most of the author’s stories were written in the first person; in the case of the Herbert West stories, the narrator is Dan Cain, West’s reluctant assistant. “Most movies,” explains Paoli, “aren’t made that way. It’s very difficult to get across the first-person point of view unless you use a lot of voice-over narration, but then that distances you from the screen. You don’t get that immediate effect”

Another problem concerns the nature of Lovecraft’s horror. “Lovecraft’s people have seen something that has changed them, that has twisted them, that has ruined their lives or made them mad. In the stories, all you get is the reactions to the horror. You do get some descriptions, actually some quite vivid descriptions, but they’re always made more vivid by your own imagination. On film, you have to show these horrifying things, these things that the narrators see which make them mad, and you’re under the obligation, in a way, to make your audience mad. That is an awful obligation for a filmmaker.” In the past this has been an area in which Lovecraft pictures have really fallen apart. Anyone who has been subjected to the endless psychedelic shots from the point of view of the monster in The Dunwich Horror can attest to that. In The Re-Animator, though, the graphic horror is displayed-in spades. “Because we have reached a period now where you can be explicit, it allowed us to show these bloody events without cutting away or suggesting them off-camera. You have to take that excessive route,” adds Paoli.

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PRE-PRODUCTION Producer Brian Yuzna describes the original story and the way it was adapted to the screen. “H.P. Lovecraft’s story takes place at Miskatonic University at the turn of the century,” he says. “It has a very grisly, dark kind of feeling to it. The medical students there are digging up the dead and bringing the dead back to life. It goes on and on. It’s a kind of serial. These guys grow up and it just continues and continues.

The director selected for the project was Stuart Gordon, a theatrical director from Chicago who has written and produced some 25 plays including play versions of Sirens of Titan and Huckleberry Finn. He did a three-part science-fiction play to be performed on three consecutive nights, called Warp, which went on to Broadway and later became a comic book. He also directed the original version of the play E.R., which later became a television series starring Elliott Gould.

Yuzna describes Gordon as a “very talented guy and a real horror fanatic.” H.P. Lovecraft’s Re-Animator will mark his directorial film debut. Remarks Yuzna, “Stuart is such a talented director, though he had some trouble adapting to film because he really knew very little about the mechanics of filmmaking, but he’s an incredibly fast learner and he’s a very, very talented director of actors.” According to Yuzna, the production has aimed for “the sort of shock sensibility of an Evil Dead with the production values of, hopefully, The Howling.”

BEHIND THE SCENES/INTERVIEWS Robert Sampson, who plays Dean Halsey in the film, had some personal experience in what it’s like playing a zombie. He describes the film as “the most fun ! ever had going on to explain that it allowed him to indulge in the wildest fantasies I’ve ever had as a child, of scaring people, of doing all those things that I wasn’t allowed to see when I was a kid. I was not allowed to see the scary Frankenstein movies and all that stuff. My parents were afraid that it might do a number on me, so I would sneak out to go see them. And now I’ve had the opportunity to do one. I did a Twilight Zone and a One Step Beyond that were similar to this, but they weren’t as rich, as thought out.”

Halsey goes on to describe what happened when a corpse was injected with the re-agent. “They inject it at the base of the skull, and what it does is, it’s like sticking your finger in a light socket. You just go Ahhh! There isn’t any control. You turn into just this mad, re-animated thing.

“There’s a scene where I’m in a padded cell, and I have a strait jacket on, and my daughter doesn’t understand what’s happened to me. So she is standing there talking to this evil doctor standing behind this one-way mirror. It’s a mirror on my side and a window on his side, and he’s trying to seduce her. Heturns and looks and can’t find me at all. All of a sudden, I’m gone. But, as he’s making a move for her, I bang my head against the window. Now I don’t know why I’m doing this, but I still have a sense of feeling. The timing of it is so weird, because I just come up and bam!

“Stuart Gordon has this off-the-wall sense of humor that I didn’t even know was there until I went to see the first dailies. I was shocked by his macabre sense of humor, but it comes out of the reality of the situation. He has everybody playing it very serious, and the humor comes out of these seemingly normal people in this bizarre circumstances.”

“What this film is about is conquering death. I mean, Herbert West’s dream is something that all doctors have shared, and that is to prolong life as long as you possibly can. It used to be believed that when your heart stopped, you were dead. Now they have drugs like epinephrine which is an adrenaline derivative which can start the heart after it’s stopped. They use fibulators and electric shock to make the heart start again, so now the stopping of the heart does not necessarily mean you’re dead. Now what they’re calling death is defined as ‘brain death, which happens six to 12 minutes after the heart stops.

“West is trying to conquer brain death. What he is trying to do is prolong that six or 12 minutes as long as he possibly can so that a person who has died, even though their brain has never received any blood or oxygen, he can be brought back. His attitude is the same as any doctor’s, that it’s better to save a life even if it means the person is going to be debilitated, than to let the person die. Even if there is brain damage, it’s still better to have that person living than dead, so under that philosophy, his approach is medically correct.”

Gordon hopes that while watching these bizarre, bloody experiments, audiences will get involved with the film’s characters. “I’ve seen many horror films where you don’t care about anybody, and that to me sort of sinks the film. If you’re not afraid for someone, you’re not afraid. It’s important. I think that one of the things that we’ve really got going for us is that we really have some wonderful actors in this film who are giving spectacular performances. When things happen to them, I think the audience is going to really care, and they’re going to really feel bad about alot of it-and horrified.”

SPECIAL EFFECTS A tall order, to be sure, especially since the budget is estimated to be just under a million dollars, far less than most of the other competitors in the zombie-film field. But then, Yuzna expects Re-Animator to be an energetic film. Unlike most movie zombies, the living dead in this film are not slow, shambling creatures. The re-animating fluid Lovecraft imagined is a sort of super-adrenaline, and so the living dead are almost supercharged. In fact, one of the opening makeup effects, devised by John Buechler, is a Cronenbergian eye-popping caused by overdosing a corpse with too much of the serum.

While Buechler was called in to handle the exploding head, plus an articulated version of a re-animated decapitated noggin, and three special corpses in Dr. Hill’s zombie army, the main effects chores in the film were handled by Tony Doublin (mechanical) and John Naulin (makeup). Naulin has gone from managing the Shop of 1,000 Faces on the Universal Studios Tour to being manager of research and development at Don Post Studios for several years, and has since been teaching makeup and working on projects related to the entertainment industry including working on the Stilsuits for Dune. He headed a makeup crew which included Gerald Quist, John Criswell, Therese Shirley, Dana Ginzberg, Richard Davison, Jeff Seigal, Julie Manegers, Melonie Cleric and Richard McGuire.

Unlike the simple gray pallor that the undead have in many flicks, Re-Animator has some rather colorful zombies. John Naulin describes how this look came about. “Stuart, the director, had some disgusting shots brought out from the Cook County morgue of all kinds of different lividities and different corpses. We sat down with that and with a book of forsenic pathology, and picked about eight or nine special colors that are not normally available with the makeups that we were using, and we had the makeup lab mix up some custom colors for us,” he said. “The corpses in this film will reflect how a corpse actually looks once the blood has settled in the body.” (After death, gravity causes blood to pool in the lowest portions of the body which in turn creates a variety of odd skin tones.)

When we ask Naulin how he would describe the effects in this film, he replies, “Moist. This is the bloodiest film 1 have ever worked on. I’ve been mixing up the blood on this film, and in the past I don’t think I ever used more than a couple of gallons of blood on a single film, but on this one, when we’re done, we’ll have used 24 gallons.

“So far the stuff looks real good. We had some of our crewmembers that couldn’t make it through some of the screenings, let’s put it that way. What especially got them was the scene where David Gale, who plays the zombiefied Dr. Hill, gets his head cut off with a shovel. I don’t think this has ever been done where somebody, on camera, has a shovel shoved through a live actor’s head and there’s a live body that is still moving and kicking, and then the head rolls off, and it’s still moving.”

The headless Dr. Hill zombie was the biggest challenge in the film. Explains Naulin, “Most times somebody loses their head in a film, you see maybe a 100 frames of it and it’s gone. We’ve got to carry 50 pages of it.” The effect was achieved a number of ways, most of which were designed by Tony Doublin. Doublin explains that the problem wasn’t “so much the body being headless, but the fact that you always run into the problem of what you do with the nine or 10 inches you lose when you lose somebody’s head. If you go up with the shoulders, the crotch and the arms become all distorted, and all the proportions go to hell. I’d seen The Dark where this guy’s head was pulled off, and it looked like a midget in a fiberglass body, but it didn’t stumble around quite as badly. Each scene we had to use a different technique! One technique that proved quite effective was building an upper torso that an actor could bend over and stick his head through so that his head appeared to be the head that the walking corpse was carrying around.

To keep Hill’s head alive, it frequently sits in a pan of blood to get its blood supply replenished. This required numerous scenes where David Gale had to sit with his head sticking up into a bloody pan while blood dribbled down the cracks in the opening. While this effect proved simple to do, it was quite un comfortable for the actor. Well, nobody said Hollywood was all glamour.

The big climax necessitated the most work. The various undead in Dr. Hill’s zombie army had to be made up, plus effects rigged not only for Dr. Hill, but also exploding veins (caused by an overdose of the serum) and burn effects. In addition, there were Buechler’s three special corpses: one of a motorcycle accident victim who looked like he skid for awhile; a failed operation that had been stuck in a body bag without the doctors bothering to remove the hospital tubes or put his guts back into his abdomen; and a third corpse, nicknamed “Gesundheit,” which was supposedly the victim of a close range shotgun blast at the back of his head which blew off the front of his face and left a gaping orifice which has hardened and dried.

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 CAST/CREW Directed Stuart Gordon

Produced Brian Yuzna

Screenplay Dennis Paoli William J. Norris Stuart Gordon

Based on “Herbert West–Reanimator” by H. P. Lovecraft

Jeffrey Combs as Herbert West Bruce Abbott as Dan Cain Barbara Crampton as Megan Halsey David Gale as Dr. Carl Hill Robert Sampson as Dean Alan Halsey Al Berry as Dr. Hans Gruber Carolyn Purdy-Gordon as Dr. Harrod Ian Patrick Williams as the Swiss Professor Gerry Black as Mace Peter Kent as Melvin the Re-Animated Craig Reed as the One Arm Man Corpse a.k.a. the Burn Victim

CREDITS/REFERENCES/SOURCES/BIBLIOGRAPHY Fangoria#61 Fangoria#46 Fangoria#50 Delirium#01 Cinefantastique v15n04

Re-Animator (1985) Retrospective SUMMARY At University of Zurich Institute of Medicine in Switzerland, Herbert West brings his dead professor, Dr.

[the-rudolph-legacy-continued]

As Valentine flopped onto the bed, she was mildly surprised that Cupid didn’t lay down next to her, as was tradition when the three of them hung out in her tent. She thought nothing of it, until she noticed the mixture of excitment and nervousness on the boys’ faces. Propping herself up on her elbows, as she studied their expressions further as the penny dropped.

“..This is a serious talk about something big, isn’t it?” 

“You’re way too good at reading faces” Cupid gently sneered before his hold on Rufus’ hand tightened with glee.

“It’s fairly big news, but it’s more of a plan at the moment”

“If yous got engaged ‘an ‘ad a bachelor do without me, I’ll be right fumin” 

“No, not engaged. Not yet” Cupid cooed the last two words at Rufus, tenderly caressing the back of his neck “We’re actually thinking of getting our own place and starting a family”

The excited squeal that exploded from Valentine was near deafening and made the three men all jump at it’s pitch.

“Babies?!” the pair nodded, happily giggeling at her reaction “AH! BABIES BAS!” Valentine excitedly squealed once more as she grabbed her man’s shoulder and shook him, just to make sure he got the same message.

“I know! I heard! Jesus woman, I know it’s exciting love, but bring it down a few notches”

Valentine did so as she brought her knees to her chest and her hands to cup her face.

“Are you thinking of adopting from Berry Sweets? You’d be accepted in a heartbeat”

“Not exactly..” Cupid began with a slightly sorrowful expression on his face as Rufus began to stroke his back comfortingly “I know how you’re going to react, but let me say all I want to before butting in, okay?”

Valentine nodded, her eyes now wide with concern.

“It sounds silly saying it out loud, but I feel like our Dads look at me and you slightly differently..”

Basil instinctively and gently grabbed Valentine’s pointed hand that had shot up, placed it in his and patted it softly before giving her a knowing and soothing look.

“Let him say his piece flower”

Nodding once more, she squeezed Basil’s hand, moved her free one to cover her mouth and looked back to her brother.

“..They look at you and see themselves. Papa sees his skin.. Pops nearly sees his reflection and.. I know they wanted me and love me.. But I’m the odd one out really”

Cupid swallowed as he stared at the floor and cracked his knuckles one finger at a time, something he only did when he rarely let his guard down to show his emotions.

“It’s okay hunny..” Rufus whispered as Cupid’s bottom lip began to wobble at the uncomfortable and unfamiliar feeling of tears gently running down his cheeks.

Cupid stayed silent for a moment as he hid in Rufus’ neck and shook slightly as he quietly cried. With a forced and pained smile, Rufus looked at Valentine and Basil further up the bed and the three shared a knowing look. They wanted to help Cupid know how loved he was, but wording it difficult along side processing the vulnerable state they all weren't used to seeing him in.

Eventually Cupid sat back upright and wiped the remaining tears from his face with the palm of his hand as Rufus handed him back his pink glasses he had just cleaned.

“I’m proud of you hunny..” Rufus whispered once more “..You remembered to breath that time”

Finally smiling at making his city boy smile, Rufus squeezed his hand in his own, silently prompting him to continue.

“I know they love me to the moon and back and don’t see me as anything other than their own, but there’s always been a stupid little niggely voice at the back of my mind that says they don’t SEE me as their own, you know? It’s silly, but I want to look at our kids and see what parts are from me and what parts are from Rufus. I want to see a beautiful brown little baby with silly pink eyes and damn it I want our stuff to match!” he finally laughed, bringing the cosiness back into the tent.

“Well.. That was a lot to take in..” Valentine manage to croke as she fought back her own tears “..And I’ll obviously never know how you feel about this, but they wanted you from the minuet they saw you. They saw that sweet little tot and said that he just had to be apart of their family. We all adore you, we love you’re sarcastic, sneeky little attitude and we wouldn’t change you for anyone or anything”

“I’d change ya for Tom Hardy like” Basil added with a smurk that soon turned into a belly laugh at Valentine slapping his arm with playful annoyance, bringing the four of them back to the warm feeling of family.

“So! Swiftly returning to babies. We’re thinking of going the route of a surrogate, but it’s a lot of planning, background checks..”

“..Her overall health..”

“..Her living condition..”

“..How responcable she is with check ups..”

“..Her diet..”

“..Good God Val the list never ends!” 

Valentine only responded with a thoughtful hum as she tapped her finger on her chin and thought though all the information she had just had thrown at her. But as one amazingly clear though shone out of the dizzying madness, a Cheshire cat like grin spread across her face as she looked to her boys.

“I could do it”

The raised eyebrows from the rest of the room said everything their baffled thought could not.

“Oh come on! It makes so much sense! You already know everything about me, I can get on a better eating plan and..” she moved her hand to hold Basil’s “I’m sure Bas can take care good care of me”

“You know I’d do anything for you love.. But a baby..” His warm smile wobbled into a nervous and almost terrified look “..It’s a big commitment, even if it’s for someone else and you’ve still got to give birth to it like”

“It’s a huge commitment Val..” Rufus chimed in “..We’d all have to think about it and how it would work with our circus life, getting a house.. We’d need to think about a lot of things”

“But..” Cupid hummed, his face humble shocked by his sister's selflessness “..It would mean the world to me. To us. No pressure though”

“How about this then. You can think about it, plan it out, see if that’ll work for you both and, if you’d like to, I can rent you my baby maker as a Christmas present. You’d have most of the new year to get a house, make it a home, sort out baby things and I’ll still have the next three month to enjoy circus life. How’s about that?”

“Make a decisions at by Christmas. Sounds like a plan to me” Rufus tunefully spoke, the thought of having a baby in the new year filling him with childlike glee.

“Well I. Am. Shattered. Far too much emotion and excitement for me!” Cupid hummed in a similar tune to Rufus before he looked up at him with the biggest puppy dog eyes “Can I get a piggyback pweeeease?”

“Come on then” Rufus half laughed, half sighed as the two stood up headed towards the tent’s entrance, Cupid happily swinging his feet around his boyfriend’s torso.

[meltingalphabet]

The Reunion

This happened two years ago, yet, I can still remember it as if it were yesterday. I’ve told the cops what happened, I’ve told reporters and friends, my therapist... But I feel like I’ve never been able to tell the whole story to them. These people weren’t just victims, they were my friends. They were a huge part of my life. Their deaths weren’t simply the visceral manifestation of insanity, but an accumulation of the lives they had lead, ending prematurely at the hands of someone who misguidedly felt betrayed. I’m getting ahead of myself. Let me start, not at the beginning, but in the middle.

When you’re in your late thirties, you find that you’ve become distant from friends you were once really close with. In college, my wife Victoria (my friend and soon-to-be girlfriend at the time), and I were part of a tight-knit group of undergrads: Nick, Addison, Heather, Leann, Jacob, Ricky, Bianca, and Tom. The last time all ten of us were together, before the incident two years ago, was at Victoria and my’s wedding, back in 2012.

Nick and Jacob lived together in New York City. Nick moved there to be a big shot on Wall Street. He worked at some company named after three old white men, making much more than any of the rest of us. Jacob was focusing on his music, performing as lead guitarist in a Heavy Metal band that, based on social media, was actually gaining some notoriety in the city. Jacob and Nick had been best friends in college, and were still best friends. They had one of those bromances you see on television. They met in college when Nick passed Jacob’s open dorm and heard the sound of guitar. Nick ran to his room to grab his bass, and the rest, as they say, is history.

The other pair of best friends, Heather and Leann, had moved to the Bay Area after college, but unlike the guys, they eventually moved apart. Both were still on the west coast, Heather had moved to a smaller town outside of the city where she worked in publishing, and Leann had moved to Portland to work as a social justice lawyer.

Addison was living with her elderly parents in Boston while she worked on her nursing degree. She had recently divorced her husband of six years, and had become a bit elusive, so that was all I knew, really.

Ricky had moved the furthest, leaving the U.S. all together and living in London with his wife, where he became a fairly successful television writer for the BBC. I had watched all of his shows, though Victoria avoided them. They were filled with suspense, illicit affairs, and kidnapping. She preferred romantic stories or the Great British Bake Off.

Bianca and Tom got married a year before we did. They stayed in Hanover, not too far from Dartmouth, where we all went to school. Bianca owned her own pilates and yoga studio, and Tom, unable to leave college life, worked in the Administrative Department of the school.

Victoria and I moved to Connecticut after graduation so I could work at my father’s architecture firm. Victoria had been working in web development, but was taking a few years off to focus on our daughter, Molly. We had been dating for almost twenty years, cohabitating for fifteen, and married for ten. In that time, the two of us had grown from just two adults, to two adults, a three year old, a loveable, bossy Corgi named Rufus, two fluffy and infuriating cats named Ham and Cheese, and our most recent addition: a curious rabbit named Princess Twinkle (Molly had chosen that name).

Two years ago on a frosty February morning, I opened my email to find an invitation to a weekend get-together from Tom:

Hey Chuckster!

Long time no talk, man. Hope you guys are faring this hellish winter alright. We moved into our new house a few weeks ago (sidenote: I would not recommend moving in January), and we’re already having issues with the roof. Bianca has been busy renovating this baby since last May! She promised me it’ll be habitable any day now. This place is much too large for the two of us, but we’re hoping to fill it soon, if you know what I mean ;)

Speaking of kids, I saw the pictures you posted online last week of Molly opening her Christmas gifts. Man, she is huge! I hope Bianca and I get down to your neck of the woods soon to finally meet the little bugger.

Anyway, I’m emailing you because Ricky called last night and he’s going to be in town this March, from the 23rd to the 30th. I guess he’s doing a few guest lectures at Dartmouth. He asked if he could stay with us, and of course we were thrilled at the idea. Ricky and I got to talking, and we decided it was the perfect opportunity to try and organize a little college reunion! We’re thinking an old fashioned shindig, Saturday the 28th.

I sent an email out to the usual suspects. We’d love it if you and Victoria could make it up! We have guest rooms to spare, so you can spend the night. Hell, stay the whole weekend!

Feel free to bring the kiddo, though keep in mind she’d be the only one under thirty since the rest of us have yet to reproduce.

Love you man,

Hope to see you soon!

Tom

Victoria and I didn’t have any other plans for that weekend, and my mom and dad happily agreed to babysit. The next night, I sent Tom a response saying we’d be there.

For the next couple of weeks, Tom would send me regular updates on the party. Heather and Leann were the next two to agree to the plan. They decided to make the trip together. Heather was going to fly to Portland, stay with Leann for the night, and then the two of them would fly to Boston, where they would pick up Addison and the three would drive up to New Hampshire. A week later, Jacob finally convinced Nick to take the bus up from New York with him.

By early March, we were all booked and ready. Victoria and I were ecstatic. We hadn’t seen anyone since the wedding, which at that time, had been three years ago. Not to mention, as the bride and groom, we really didn’t get much time to catch up with old friends. This would be the first time we all hung out, just us, in almost a decade.

Victoria and I left home early Saturday, dropping Molly off with her grandparents before heading out. The weather report told us to expect some nasty rain that night, so we wanted to get to New England before visibility on the road was bad. We were pulling into Tom and Bianca’s driveway at a little after one in the afternoon, the New England sun high above us, trying to warm the chilly New Hampshire air. It looked so nice, so calm and peaceful. But I could see dark clouds crawling menacingly towards us when I lowered my head to the steering wheel to look up at the distant sky past the edge of my car’s roof.

Tom and Bianca’s home was quite large. It was a classic New England Colonial home, painted a light sky blue with white trim and shutters. A wrap around porch, an addition that was tastefully designed to not contrast the classic structure, stretched from the front door to the side. We grabbed our weekend bags from the trunk, and walked up the front steps. The large white door greeting us warmly.

Victoria’s hand hovered in front of the doorbell, and she looked at me, a huge excited smile stretching from ear to ear. “Ready?”

I laughed at her giddiness, “just ring it, weirdo.”

She pushed, a large chime filling the inside of the house. We waited a few seconds before the door burst open, and Tom stood in front of us wearing khakis and a pink polo. His dirty blonde hair shaggy, yet neat, just like it had been ten years ago. His smiled was crooked on his face, but I noticed a few lines tracing the sides of his mouth. Otherwise, he looked the same: young and cocky. Ego and self-esteem in abundance. His skin was tanned with time spent playing and lounging outside, and the beer bottle between his right thumb and forefinger was as much a part of him as his kind, intelligent brown eyes. I thought of the slight gut forming under my sweater as I noticed that Tom had retained, not only the confidence, but the lean athletic body of his youth.

“Fuck yeah! The adult supervision has arrived!” He hollered before embracing both of us in a warm hug. I could hear a female whooping come from deep in the house, which I instantly recognized as Bianca. Tom and Bianca had always been the partiers, while everyone else joked that Victoria and I were the group’s official old folks. Victoria’s obsession with knitting and my bizarre love of creamed corn helped solidify that reputation fairly early on in our freshman year.

“Come on, come on, the party's already started!” Tom ushered us inside. We followed him into the living room where Bianca and Ricky were sitting, drinking beers. Several hands of cards lay forgotten on the coffee table in front of them.

Bianca jumped up squealing before proceeding to attack my wife with a huge hug. She wore her long light blonde hair in a messy bun on top of her head, and was dressed in dark blue yoga pants and a white t-shirt. Her lips were a light shade of pink, that suited her pale complexion well. Like Tom, she managed to maintain the fit body from her successful cheerleading career in High School and College.

Tom left towards the kitchen while Ricky stood, extending his hand to me. I laughed at the gesture, and pulled him into a warm embrace. As we parted, I eyed him from top to bottom. A wannabe-novelist in his youth, selling out his craft for television had not affected his style much at all. He wore the clothes of a writer: dark jeans and a mustard yellow cardigan that played well with his rich mocha skin, but Ricky was not your usual poet. While one might expect the writer of our group to be lean and frail looking, the clean-cut clothing looked strained again the large muscular body underneath.

“Oh my god! I’m so excited you guys could make it!” Bianca said, finally able to speak intelligible words as she released Victoria from her grasp and hugged me.

“We wouldn’t have missed it for the world! And thanks, Ricky, for visiting and getting this going!” I said over her shoulder.

“I am the proverbial snowball that lead to the avalanche.” Ricky said, bowing jokingly to me. Tom reentered, arms full of cold beers.

Victoria snorted, taking a beer from Tom’s outstretched hand, “poetic, but I don’t think that’s a common idiom.”

Ricky gave her a silent half smile in return, the closest thing he had to a friendly chuckle.

“Fucking English majors.” Tom rolled his eyes, smirking.

“I know, right? We suck.” Victoria retorted and pushed Tom’s shoulder playfully. I tensed slightly. Tom and Victoria had dated for a hot minute freshman year, before quickly realizing their incompatibility. And by that, I mean Tom dumped her after a month because he didn’t want something serious. It didn’t take long for Tom and Bianca to drunkenly hook up at a frat party, and ironically, the two became pretty inseparable for the remainder of our college years, and beyond.

It took Victoria almost a year to recover from the break up. I was waiting in the wings, though. I spent nights comforting her, bringing her ice cream, listening to her lament the loss of another guy. It was worth it in the end, but it still made me uneasy when they flirted like this, even if it was just friendly, and even after all these years. I tried to shrug it off. Tom did flirt with everyone.

I grabbed the beer Tom offered and took a swig. My body loosened instinctively at the familiar ice cold taste.

Looking down at my watch, I saw that it was now two. “When does everybody else get in?” I asked.

“Any minute now!” Tom said excitedly, turning away from my wife to face me. “I just got a text from Heather that they decided to meet Nick and Jacob at the bus stop. Their bus was scheduled to come in…” he checked the time on his phone, “now, I guess. The girls got there twenty minutes ago. According to Heather, she talked to Nick and figured they might as well give the guys a ride instead of forcing them to take a cab.” I smiled, Heather was always the planner of the bunch. If it wasn't for her organization and leadership, our group probably wouldn't have survived long. “With that many bodies, they’re lucky Addison owns an SUV instead of tiny sedan like you guys.” Tom laughed, as if our twelve year old Accord was a joke everyone was in on. “If everything's going according to schedule, they should be here in half an hour,” he finished.

The doorbell rang fifty minutes later. “Bolla bolla bolla!” Tom yelled, throwing both arms into the air excitedly, spilling at least half of a beer in the process. I chuckled. I hadn’t heard anyone say that since college, when we were dumb drunk kids. I wasn’t sure Tom had ever stopped being a dumb drunk kid.

Bianca went to the door, Tom following her, continuing his juvenile call, which echoed off of the high ceilings.

Ricky, Victoria, and I listened to the door open, followed by both male and female voices joining in. “Bolla bolla bolla!” the cries reverberated to the living room. Ricky rolled his eyes, beaming, and Victoria snorted with laughter. I looked at my wife’s face, glowing with a carefree happiness I hadn’t seen since Molly was born. I smiled at her.

Suddenly, a gaggle of late thirty year olds flooded the room with high-pitched squeals and hugs. “Sorry we’re late!” Heather called out, “Nick had to fail at getting the digits of a cute girl from the bus, and we had to watch!” Heather, Leann, and Addison fell into a fit of giggling at this. Nick scowled.

I greeted my old friends, shocked at how much they had changed. Minus Jacob, who, like Tom and Bianca, looked exactly as he had in college. He still wore those round glasses that only artists with oval faces can pull off, or Harry Potter. He didn’t even look like he had aged. He was wearing a band shirt for some band I had never heard of and his long blonde hair was cut exactly like it had years ago. He always had a very Cobain air about him.

I had seen photos of Leann, Nick, and Addison on facebook, and had noticed the subtle changes over the years, but in person, they took my breath away.

The stress of divorce and taking care of her parents while getting her Masters seemed to be taking a lot out of Addison. She had been the nerd of the group: smart, focused, shy, but now she also looked tired, as if she was fraying at the edges. In college, she’d often abandon parties long before the rest of us were ready to go home. She prefered movie nights to frat houses, art exhibits to ragers, museums to bars. She had always been a bit sloppy, but now she just looked… frumpy. Her face old and lined, her brown hair already slowly turning silver.

Contrarily, it was startling to see Leann, Nick, and Heather as polished, successful adults.

Leann, who had always been a bit of a hippie with her long flowing brown hair, unshaved legs, and long skirts, now wore a shorter bob, her hair cut close to the bottom of her jaw, and with much less frizz. She wore some makeup, though very subtle, and her jeans and t-shirt were neat, clean, and fitted.

Nick still looked like he was trying too hard to be cool, but now he had an air of wealth that had never surrounded him in college. His baggy t-shirt with holes at the armpits was now a form fitting striped sweater. He still wore his hair chin length, but instead of looking greasy with unwash, it was neatly cut, combed, and, most importantly, clean. His beard was trimmed close to his face, and he smelled like soap and a very subdued cologne.

Heather was the most drastic. She had never embraced the trend of social media which began late in our college years, and so I did not have any hint about her physical transformation until now. She was never grossly overweight in college, but she was definitely not what you would call skinny. Bianca always had, and still had, the body of a cheerleader. Victoria, even after having Holly, was a naturally very slim person, with a small frame. Heather was much broader and taller. Her hobby of weightlifting always contributing to her feminine but strong physique, her love of fast food giving her some extra weight. Heather was still tall and broad, but now her body was lean with muscle and little fat.

I hugged the slim Heather.

“Wow, Heather, you look fantastic!” I said, releasing her.

She blushed, “heh, thanks.”

She turned to Tom, who winked while handing her a beer. The red of her cheeks deepened, and I noticed Bianca roll her eyes.

“The whole gang, back together! This is insane!” Jacob exclaimed.  

Leann broke away from her hug with Bianca, “Damn, Bianca! Everytime I see you, I’m amazed at how young you still look!”

“Oh stop!” Bianca cried, waving her away.

“So, are you going to give us a tour of this ridiculously amazing home of yours?” asked Leann, gesturing to her surroundings.

Bianca smiled, pleased with the invitation, “of course! Follow me!” She and Tom led us from the living room into the large, modern kitchen, which shined with new chrome appliances.

Nick whistled. “Holy shit, this must have cost a fortune!”

Tom shrugged, “oh this? This was nothing.” He laughed. “This was all the beautiful Bianca’s doing!” He bowed to his wife, who beamed back. “Wait till you see the master bedroom!” And with that he bounded off.

“No, but really, Tom. How did you guys afford this?” Nick’s voice trailed behind him as he followed, leaving the kitchen behind, the rest of us slowly making our own way to the stairs.

“It might have taken a credit card or two to get this place up to snuff.” Tom admitted at the head of the migration.

Heather groaned, never one to hide how she really felt, “you know that's just asking for trouble, right?”

Bianca giggled, “oh, don’t worry about it, Heather. I’ve got it taken care of. Soon, Tom and I won’t have to worry about any of that.”

Jacob looked at Tom inquisitively, but he just shrugged.

Victoria leaned into my side, and I tilted my ear to her mouth as we walked behind the rest of the group. “This place is incredible.” She whispered, her eyes locking on mine. I felt a small twin pang of jealousy in the pit of my stomach. The place was fancy, clean, and immaculate. It was beyond impressive. Our own home was small, decorated in furniture that, if it didn’t start out as used, was now after ten years and a kid. Victoria and my’s love of animals and children made us give up on interior design, organization, and cleanliness years ago. Seeing homes like this always reminded us of our failings.

I put my arm around Victoria, squeezed her closer, and kissed her forehead. “Their place might be a palace, but we’re the ones lucky enough to be woken up at 7am every Saturday and Sunday morning by a small, bossy child and her equally small, bossy Corgi pal.” My wife snorted and pushed me away as we walked into the bedroom.

The room was almost as large as the kitchen. Hell, it might have been larger. The focal point was a large four post bed, draped with white silks. The furniture surrounding it was large, and made of a polished dark wood. In the middle of the ceiling was a small, but still quite grand chandelier. There was even a dark blue velvet chaise lounge in the corner.

“Check out the jacuzzi tub!” Tom cried, throwing open the french doors into the bathroom. Inside was a large round bathtub, with a glass shower next to it, containing many more shower nozzles than I ever thought would be necessary. Both the tub and the shower were surrounded with rich light brown marble.

Tom beamed at me expectantly. I nodded slowly, and said the only thing that came to mind, “wow.” Tom clapped me on the back, and then proceeded to jump onto the steps leading up to the tub. He raised his arms like a dictator about to give a speech.

“And this, ladies and gents, will be where the party ends tonight.” He winked again at Heather, who looked away, pretending not to notice.

“Sure thing, T-bone.” Victoria said sarcastically. “Can we like, not hang out in your bathroom anymore? It’s kind of weird.” Jacob laughed and we walked into the bedroom. Ricky, Nick, and Leann continued to lead us towards the bedroom door, but Tom interrupted the procession.

“Before we leave the luxury of the master bedroom, who wants to play the phone game?” Tom asked in a excessively sensual tone, an eyebrow raised.

“You mean that game kids play in preschool? You want us to get in a circle and whisper a sentence into each other’s ears until it’s gibberish?” Victoria asked, incredulously.  

Tom laughed at this, the alcohol making his gestures and sounds grander than usual. “Not that one, though I guess we can try that later. Seems like Vicky and Chuck’s party games have changed slightly since having a kid.” Everyone laughed and Tom continued, “No, this is a different game.” He walked over and opened the door at the side of the room to reveal a large walk-in closet, complete with a middle island. Possibly for shoe storage? Or something similarly unnecessary and ridiculous.

He walked to a large safe set into the wall, and began spinning the front dial, stopping and reversing it occasionally as he entered the combination. “This is the no-distractions-at-the-party cell phone game,” Tom said. There was a large click, and he stepped to the side, opening the safe door in the process. The door swung heavily, revealing a large dark space. “Everyone who wants to participate in the best reunion ever, put your cell phones inside!” Tom beamed mischievously at us.

“Fuck no.” Victoria said, crossing her arms sternly.

“Yeah, I’m not doing that.” Leann agreed.

“Can you maybe explain the point of this game, Tom?” Nick asked.

“Isn’t it obvious? It’s to ensure our fun night isn’t interrupted. No work, no other friends, no family. Tonight, this house is our world and nothing exists beyond it.” He grabbed his phone from his pocket, and placed it inside the safe.

“I think it’s a good idea.” Bianca said, and handed him her phone.

Tom laughed, “yeah, cause it was yours, babe. Remember? You suggested it at breakfast yesterday.”

Bianca thought back, “was it?”

Tom chuckled and kissed her affectionately on the cheek. He turned to Ricky, “the memory on this one,” he said gesturing to her with his thumb.

“Who needs brains when you’ve got a body like that, am I right?!” Nick whispered loudly to Tom, as he elbowed him in the chest knowingly. Bianca smiled sarcastically at him and I heard Victoria groan quietly beside me. Nick could be an ass sometimes. Heather gave him a small smack to the back of the head, glowering at him. Nick shrugged at her sheepishly.

“Eh, yeah.” Tom said as he put Bianca's phone with his. “Anyway,” he turned to the rest of us, quickly forgetting Nick’s comment and continuing, “haven’t you ever played that game, when going out to dinner where everyone puts their cell phone in the middle of the table, face down, and the first one to check theirs has to pay?”

“Ugh, fine.” Leann put her phone onto the pile.

Heather reluctantly pulled hers out of her pocket, and turned to Tom, “but you better write that combination down somewhere so when someone injures themselves while you’re passed out, we can get a phone.”

“Don’t worry,” Bianca reassured, “we’ve still got a landline in case of emergencies.”

Heather put her phone into the safe, followed shortly by Nick, Jacob, and Ricky. Addison twisted her mouth in frustration, looking from face to face, and begrudgingly handed Tom her phone. Everyone turned expectantly to Victoria and I, neither of us reaching towards our cell phones.

“What if something happens to Molly? What if my parents need to get in touch with us?” I asked.

“You gave them our number, right?”

I looked at Victoria, who nodded at me. Tom saw and continued, “see, they’ll be able to reach you. I promise!” I looked at my watch. It was three thirty.

“Alright.” I sighed and handed Tom my phone. I had texted my parents when we got in, and everything seemed to be going well. I didn’t see any harm in the situation. Victoria followed my lead, begrudgingly.

With all the phones accounted for in the safe, Tom swung the door closed with a loud click. “Trust me, we’ll have so much fun tonight, you guys won’t even notice you don’t have your phones.”

Everyone started out into the hall to continue the tour. I turned to Victoria, and winked, pointing to my smartwatch. She smiled, relief washing over her face. Even with my phone locked away, I’d know if someone was trying to get in touch with me.

Hours later, the beers swished and sloshed inside my stomach while heavy rain beat down on the glass doors beside us. I stood in the kitchen, arguing over the finer details of the most recent fan theory of Game of Thrones with Nick and Heather. Addison stood off to the side, listening to the argument while pulling on the sleeves of her oversized sweatshirt. Leann, Ricky, and Victoria were making a giant dish of nachos while Bianca whipped up a batch of margaritas. Tom danced behind her, trying his best to distract her from her task. She giggled as she leaned back into his body. They swayed to the music - a playlist of their own devising, made up entirely of music that was popular during our years in college. They had speakers set up in each room of the house, all connected to a master stereo in the living room, so no matter where you went, you couldn’t get away. But at least we could no longer hear the wind howling against the house. I watched Bianca move her hips side to side, her pilates-assisted ass pressing into Tom, whose smile was cheser-cat wide. They looked like teenagers. Even with this giant fancy home surrounding them, they acted like they were horny, nineteen, and in love. Just like I remembered.

“He is obviously only half Lannister and half Targaryen! Does he look like any of the Lannisters to you!?!” Nick gestured into the air enthusiastically while staring wide eyed at Heather.

“But does he really look like a Targaryen??” Heather asked, dubious of Nick’s argument.

“That’s because you only watch the show! You got to read the books!” Nick yelled, his face turning red with frustration.

“I have to go to the bathroom.” Addison whispered to the group, obviously uncomfortable with the heated debate, and left towards the stairs.

Nick rolled his eyes, and turned to Heather. “Oh look, we made overly sensitive Addison uncomfortable.”

“Shut up, Nick!” Bianca scolded, and turned to follow her.

He blew a raspberry and continued his lecture on true bloodlines.

Bianca returned several moments later, while Nick was describing the real heir to the Iron Throne in great detail. I turned to her, and she shook her head with a small smile, a sign I interpreted as meaning that Addison needed some space from the group for a moment. I nodded and returned the smile.

Once the nachos were done, we all went into the living room. Bianca placed a wide-brimmed margarita glass in front of me, full to the top with green slushy alcohol, the brim rimmed with salt. There was even a little yellow paper umbrella resting in it.

“Thank you, but I think I’ll pass on this round, Bianca.” I said politely, passing her back the large unbalanced glass, careful not to spill the contents. Bianca looked hurt, so I added “It looks amazing, but I’ve had a lot of beer. I don’t want to overdo it.” She reached for the drink.

Tom appeared behind her, “dude, come on! It’s a party!” He leaned towards me and lowered his voice, “Just one margarita won’t hurt, and Bianca put a lot of effort into them.”

I smiled, and brought my arm, and the margarita, back towards me. “Alright, alright!” I lifted my left hand up in surrender, “I’ll have a margarita.” Bianca’s face lit up. “But just one!” I said, raising my finger warningly at Tom, who smiled in return.

I brought the drink to my lips, and was pleasantly surprised. The margarita was sweet, but not too sweet like most fruity drinks. It was good, but after my first sip, I left the glass mostly untouched beside me as I joined the conversation of the rest of the group.

The years apart were long forgotten as old jokes were dredged up from the past, and shit talk passed from old friends without hurt feelings or damaged egos. We were just a group of carefree kids once again.

“Alright, piss break.” Nick slurred as he slowly got to his feet, stood for a moment, swaying slightly, and shuffled to the bathroom.

Ricky snickered, “wowzers, someone can’t hold his liquor anymore.”

The small black speakers above us began playing a pop song I recognized, but couldn’t name. “Oh shit!” Tom exclaimed, standing up and reaching for Heather, “this was my jam!”

Heather took his hand, and he pulled her up towards him. Ricky jumped off the couch, and shoved it towards the wall, creating more space for the impromptu dance floor. He offered his hand to Leann, bowing to her playfully, and she joined him. I turned to Victoria, who was sitting beside me on the other, larger couch. She smiled, and we joined in the party.

While Leann and Ricky danced awkwardly facing each other, but with an appropriate distance between them, Tom was hugging Heather to him, moving his body with hers to the beat of the music, much as he had earlier with his wife, but his face held a serious concentration that it hadn't before. Heather’s face was locked on Tom’s, her cheeks red.

I cringed internally at the way she was staring at him. It wasn’t unknown within our group that Heather had had a huge crush on Tom in college, but he never returned her affection.

I saw Bianca walk in from the kitchen. She stood, watching them dance for a moment, her face completely blank. Then, without warning, she turned and locked eyes with me. I felt the color rise in my face, and turned away. I figured that, along with all the jokes from the past, the drama was beginning to creep back into the group dynamic as well. We were all drunk, hanging out with people that defined our youth. It was to be expected that the juvenile feelings that marked these relationships in our memories would manifest tonight.

Tom and Heather’s faces were, at this point, only an inch or so apart, their eyes locked. I was about to suggest we kill the dance party when Ricky’s voice rose over the music, “man, Nick’s been in the bathroom for a really long time.”

I looked around, and noticed he was right, Nick was still gone. And so was Addison. Heather and Tom broke away. Tom’s eyes fell on his wife’s expressionless face, and he looked down in what looked like guilt. Uncomfortable, I thought Nick was a good excuse to separate myself from the situation. “I’ll go check on him. Make sure he’s not passed out in there.”

I let go of my wife and walked into the hallway next to the living room. If I remembered the tour accurately, there was a small powder room opposite the kitchen. Tom and Bianca had the decency to not but speakers in the hallway, so while I could still hear the music clearly, it was dulled by the wall. The hallway was dark, so I ran my hand along the wall searching for a light switch, but without luck. There was a thin stream of light coming from a thin, slightly ajar, door. The door I remembered as the small bathroom. Giving up on the light switch, I walked towards the light. I listened for a moment at the door, trying to pick up the sounds of urination, or the dull sounds of drunken snoring, but heard neither. In fact, other than my own breathing and the dull music, I heard nothing at all.

I knocked lightly on the door frame, “Nick? You ok, buddy?” There was no response. I reached my hand up, and pushed the door into the room. The door stuck on something. I pushed a little harder, but still it resisted. I leaned my shoulder into the space between the door and the wall, and craned my neck to look inside.

The door was stuck on Nick, who was sitting, passed out cold, on the toilet, his pants to the ground.

“Jesus, dude. Seriously?” I said, trying to force his feet back towards him so I could open the door wider, but I quickly stopped when I noticed that Nick’s eyes weren’t closed. He was staring at me. Staring at me with blank, glassy eyes. My heartbeat quickened, and I examined the rest of him: his face was bloated and purple, his tongue swollen, pushing his mouth ajar.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck!” I whispered under my breath, as I reached my hand out towards his neck. I tried to find a pulse, but it was useless. Nick was dead.

I pulled myself sharply out from where I had squeezed myself, bruising my arm as I did. I ignored the pain, and walked into the living room, past Tom, Heather, and Victoria, to the sound system, and turned it off. The sound of the storm surrounded us instantly, finally free of restriction. The wind and rain filled the air, thunder echoing into every corner.

“What the fuck, dude?” Tom asked. I could feel their eyes on my back as I tried to blink the burning tears away. I turned to face them, and breathed deeply, preparing myself.

“Nick is… Nick… Something happened to Nick.” I finally said.

They stared at me.

I felt frustration heating my body from the inside, “Nick’s fucking dead guys. He’s on the fucking toilet, and he’s fucking dead.” My voice cracked as tears began to flow freely down my cheeks.

Without a word, Jacob stood and ran out into the hall. Tom, Bianca, Heather, Leann and Victoria followed. I waited there, standing in the living room, alone. Where the fuck was Addison?

Last I had seen Addison was in the kitchen. But then she left to go use the bathroom. And she hadn’t been in the small bathroom, so she must be in the Master bathroom. I ran into the entrance way, turned up the stairs, and climb briskly, taking two steps at a time.

I ran into the bedroom. The room was just as it had been moments before, the french doors still open. I walked to them, and the view inside the bathroom made my stomach lurch with shock and horror.

Addison was in the tub, fully clothed. Her forearms rested on each side of the porcelain basin, her legs bent in front of her. She looked like she could be taking a bath, but the tub was dry except for the small line of blood leading from her body to the drain. Her face was twisted with horror. I felt myself begin to shake as I noticed the huge gash in her head, spreading from her forehead to behind her ear. I could see white skull through her injury. I looked down and saw blood, hair, and flesh on the corner of the lower step to the tub.

I stepped closer, my hand outstretched hesitantly to check a pulse, despite the obvious futility of the act. I had to check. I had to be certain. I placed my hand on her wrist. I tried to keep my face as far from her as possible, yet I couldn’t keep my eyes off of the crack in her head. From there, I could see the split in the skull itself, her pink brain visible under the blood that clumped into the roots of her hair. Her wrist was silent. There was no pulse, no life.

I looked at my friend. Shy, sweet, intelligent Addison. Her body limb. I stepped back and hastened to the sink, where I vomited. Nachos and beer splashed in the shallow bowl, falling on the counter and mirror. But I didn’t care. This was no time to worry about being a polite guest. I vomited again, then straightened and wiped my mouth.

Without turning back, thoughts raced through my mind. Maybe she slipped and hit her head? But the chances that both Addison and Nick died in horrible accidents was hard to believe. Plus, how could she have fallen to her death, then crawled into the bathtub to position herself like that? If this was an accident, she’d still be on the floor.

I turned away from the gruesome scene, and ran down the stairs. Everyone was in the living room. At least, everyone still left alive. Jacob sat on the floor, rocking back and forward, shaking his head in disbelief. Victoria crouched over him, her arms around his shoulders as she cooed words of comfort to him, but he didn’t seem to hear her. His platonic life partner was gone.

Leann had the cordless phone in her hand, tears streaming down her cheeks. She was frantically pressing buttons on the phone, getting more and more frustrated with every attempt.

“Goddammit!” She screamed, “what the fuck is wrong with this thing!?!”

I looked down, and saw that the base had been unplugged from the wall. “It’s dead.” I said, my voice sounded emotionless to my ears. I grabbed the cord, hanging uselessly from the phone’s base, and plugged it in. Leann placed the phone back down and the display lit up. I lifted the wireless phone, but it immediately went dead again. I put it back, and looked at Leann.

“We can't dial while it's in it’s base.”

Leann started sobbing harder. “We need to call an ambulance!” She cried at me, her body shaking uncontrollably.

“We need to call the police.” Leann’s son caught in her throat. She stared at me, her eyes wet and red. I swallowed. “I don’t think Nick died of natural causes.”

The sound of wind, rain, and thunder filled the room as everyone waited for me to continue.

“Addison was murdered. Her body’s in the bathroom upstairs.” I said, as calmly as I could despite my stomach performing somersaults inside of me and my brain shooting electricity through the sides of my head.

I turned to Tom and Bianca. Bianca looked ill and Tom was as white as a ghost. “We need the fucking cell phones.”

Tom nodded solemnly, and turned towards the front of the house.  

“There’s another landline in the office.” Bianca said quietly. She walked to Leann, placing a calming hand on her shoulder. “Come on, I know that one’s plugged in. Let’s go call the cops.”

Leann sniffled loudly and Bianca lead her towards the kitchen. The office was a sunroom extension at the corner of the house.

Heather leaned towards me and Ricky, her face between ours. “Do you know what this means?” Heather said, her voice lowered and horse.

I shook my head, looking at my wife and Jacob, who were still on the floor. Victoria's face was drawn into a pained mask, her lower lip trembling as it did when she was distraught. Jacob’s eyes were wide, but unseeing.

I felt Ricky shift his weight beside me.

“Someone has broken in, and is killing us, one by one.” Heather answered her own question.

Realization dawned on me. I completed the thought out loud, “there’s a killer in the house.”

Heather nodded and we stood in shock at what was happening. The large house loomed above and around us like a great weight. It had morphed from a luxurious suburban home into a death trap.

Our stupor was broken by loud music blasting through the speakers throughout the house. I looked at the stereo, but no one was even close to it.

“What the fuck??” Victoria asked, looking around.

I walked over and pressed the power button, the sound dimming quickly as the lights faded off. Instantly it sprung to life again, music pouring out around us.

“Fuck!” I yelled. The killer must be controlling it somehow.

“Leann and Bianca!” Heather screamed over the music.

Ricky ran out into the kitchen, the girls following. I looked down at Jacob, who hadn’t moved.

“Come on, we can’t leave you here alone.” I said, reaching my hand down to him. Jacob looked up at me, his eyes wide and empty. He shook his head slowly. I bent down and grabbed his hand with mine, forcing him up. He didn’t resist.

I dragged Jacob behind me as we ran to the office door. I saw Ricky throw himself at the white wood door. A loud crack of muscle hitting wood exploded into the kitchen and the door burst open into the room. A metallic scent hit my nose immediately. Ricky’s form took up most of the door, blocking the light from reaching me. Victoria and Heather stopped short behind him and simultaneously started screaming, the sounds harmonizing and mixing with the song playing over our heads. I put my hands on my wife’s shoulders, and looked over her to see the scene, the smell hitting my nose stronger. I recognized it then. It was the smell of blood. Lots and lots of blood.

Leann’s body was sprawled on the floor. I could only recognize her from the shirt she was wearing tonight. Her face was sunken, blood and bone protruding from broken flesh. Lines of red were splattered along the floor and walls, stretching out from her body like a twisted spiderweb. On the floor next to her was an old golfing trophy, I assumed from Tom’s more competitive athletic days. The tiny gold man, frozen in a perpetual swing, was smeared with blood from the violent hand the broke Leann’s body, over and over again.

Victoria turned away from the gruesome scene and rested her head on my shoulder as she sobbed. I hugged her, turning my face from the bloody office. I held my wife tight to me, comforted, if only slightly, by her physical touch. A terrible pop song from our youth ended, and the room was filled with the sound of the raging storm. Thunder cackled and I shook with the sound. Lightning illuminated the window beside me as a one hit wonder came on over the speakers.

Ricky stepped back from the doorway, and faced us. His face stoic, but with a hint of pained disgust. Ricky had always been a quiet lumbering giant. In college, our hockey coach, Coach Hutchinson, was practically stalking the guy to get him to try out for the team. Not for skill, but for his appearance/size alone. But Ricky always refused. He never excelled in his studies either - don’t get me wrong, the man’s not dumb at all, he’s just not interested in anything that isn’t writing. And it’s easy to see why, his short stories and poetry were amazing. I was always fascinated with him, this giant man who could write anyone to tears, love, or terror. If he hadn’t been an English major, I’m not sure how he would’ve graduated.

Victoria was always jealous of his skills. They were the first ones of the group to become friends. Victoria introduced herself to him on the first day of Introduction to Literature. Ricky didn’t talk much, but he seemed to enjoy her company, and Victoria enjoyed silence. They’d spend a lot of nights for those four years, studying and writing together. But while Victoria would spend days on a paper or story, only to receive a B, Ricky would whip something up the night before and get an A as well as public praise. She loved Ricky, but was frustrated by his effortless success. When we all graduated, Victoria tried to make a go of it as a writer, but it never worked out. Luckily, she had minored in computer information technology. When she realized her life as an author would be a long and tireless one without much success, she decided to take some additional classes in programming and web development. She was quite good with computers and that had always been her fallback option, but it wasn’t her dream. Ricky, on the other hand, was offered a professional writing gig immediately out of school.

I remember watching his hulking frame in the doorway and a part of my mind wondering what he’d write about after that night. Would the traumatic evening become a memoir? Or would that night influence a best selling novel? Maybe a new television show?

If he survived, that was.

I scanned the room behind him, trying to avoid looking directly at Leann. “Where the fuck is the other phone?” I asked.

Victoria looked around, “Bianca must have it!” She exclaimed, looking up at me, her eyes filling with hope.

I nodded, “I pray she was able to call for help.”

Victoria nodded, the hope petering slightly from her face.

“We need to search the house.” Heather said, her voice flat. I looked up. Heather’s face was stoic as she stared at Leann. They had been best friends. I untangled an arm from my wife, and reached my hand out, placing it on her shoulder. Pulling away and locking eyes with me, she repeated herself, “we need to search the house.”

Victoria stepped back and wiped her eyes. “You’re right,” she sniffled, “we need to find whoever’s doing this to us and find Bianca. God, I hope she’s ok. I don’t want to imagine what he might… what he might be doing to her.” Her voice cracked with a fresh sob, and she wrapped her arms protectively around herself. I rubbed her back, trying to push the same thoughts and violent images from my mind.

“Chuck and Victoria, you should check the upstairs. See if Tom has the phones. Ricky and I will check the basement, and then we’ll meet here and check the main floor.” Heather instructed.

I nodded, and turned to face the empty kitchen. “Where’s Jacob? He was here a second ago.”

“Goddammit!” Heather exclaimed, “we don’t have time for this. We have to get this situation under control!” Heather stormed off towards the basement door, Ricky following.

I gulped, and, using my hand still on her back, lead Victoria through the kitchen into the living room. The living room felt colder than it had when we first arrive. Even with the lights above us illuminating the room in a yellow glow, it seemed dark, like the corners were hiding secrets that threatened our very lives. I walked to the stereo and hit the large rectangular on/off button. The button popped up from the face of the stereo and the music faded. I breathed a sigh of relief, and we continued upstairs.

The two guest rooms were empty. We had checked the closets and under the bed, and even a large wardrobe in the larger of the rooms, but there was no sign of life. The rooms seemed oddly empty and void of the extravagance the other rooms possessed.

We walked into the exercise room, but the room was just a bunch of exercise equipment and an empty space for yoga and pilates. The closet was full of only yoga mats, bricks, and other assorted items I didn’t recognize.

Finally, we got to the bedroom. I wanted to make sure Tom was ok, but still my legs slowed as we approached the door, the image of Addison, dead in the tub, her skull and brains exposed making my feet heavier with each approaching step. If Victoria hadn’t been at my side, I don’t think I’d be able to go on. I pushed through the emotional quicksand, forcing my feet forward until I was at the open door. I looked in the room and noticed the closet door open and the light on. Straining my ears, I could hear Tom frantically muttering to himself, his voice wet with tears.

Trying to forget the bathroom, I ran to the closet. Tom was desperately spinning the dial of the safe. He looked at me, his face red with tears.

“It won’t fucking open!” He screamed, kicking the wall in front of him hard enough to leave a dent.

“Are you putting the combination in correctly?” I asked.

“Yes, I’m putting the fucking combination in correctly! Of course I am! It’s our fucking wedding anniversary! I wouldn’t fucking forget that!” The corner of Tom’s mouth were white with frothy spit.

I step up to the safe, “What’s was the date, again? I’ll try.”

Tom breathed deeply, and exhaled loudly, trying to calm himself. “It’s June 19th, 2006.” He said. “It’s a five number combination, left right left right. It was 61906.”

I turned the dial to the left till it reached 6, and heard a slight click within the safe mechanism. Then turned the dial to the right to 1, with a slight click. I repeated this until the small black arrow on the dial reached 6, once again. There was no click.

“Well the rest of the combination seems to be working, it’s just that last number. Maybe it’s no longer 6? Either way, it won’t take too long to try the nine other numbers.” I said. Tom nodded, slowly calming himself. I stepped back so he could reach the dial and begin the process all over again.

I lifted my wrist and looked at my watch. The menu had an option to send a text to one of my recent contacts. I could send a text to my mom and ask her to send help. I began to travel through the menu, looking for the option when suddenly loud rock music flowed from the speakers in the bedroom, making me jump.

“What the fuck!” I screamed. I ran out into the bedroom. Victoria was staring at the bathtub, her hand over her mouth, tears flooding down her face. She looked at me, her eyes wide with terror.

“We need to check on the others. We’ll come figure this out afterwards. Someone could be dying as we speak.”

I ran past my horrified wife, Tom following behind me. We flew down the stairs, and into the living room. It was empty. I slammed the on/off button on the stereo. Screams echoed throughout the house. It was coming from the other side of the stairs.

“The dining room!” Tom yelled, and ran, Victoria catching up to us and following. I listened closer. It wasn’t coming from this floor though. It was coming from upstairs. The floor Victoria and I just checked from top to bottom.

I ran to the top of the steps. The sound was coming from the exercise room. I ran in, my eyes registering Bianca and Jacob immediately. But the scene wasn’t right.

My brain tried to interpret the image before me, but it wouldn’t compute. Jacob was on the floor, Bianca above him. Both of them, along with the room, were covered in blood.

“Bianca! Are you ok?” I asked, “is Jacob!?!”

Bianca shook her head, “I’m ok, but… I think… I think Jacob’s dead.”

I rested my hand on my knees, my breath was coming in short gasps. I recognized the uncomfortable sensation as hyperventilating. How could this be happening to us? How could something so fucked up happen to us?

Bianca took a step towards me and I looked up. I noticed a bloodied weight in her hand. The murder weapon. But why was Bianca holding the murder weapon? Had she fought the killer for it?

She took a step towards me. Her face was twisted, not in horror or disgust, but in pleasure.

“Wh… What… what’s going... on?” I said between breaths.

She didn’t answer, but took another step towards me, her smile spreading across her face.

“I’m going to enjoy killing you, Chuck.” She said.

I shook my head in disbelief, stepping backwards.

“Don’t go, Charles.” She cooed. “Poor little pathetic Charles. How does it feel to have married Tom’s leftovers? Do you wake up every morning and remember comforting the love of your life over a basic douche like Tom?”

She took another step closer. My breathing was slowly returning to normal and my brain was clearing. I checked my peripheral for a potential weapon, but saw nothing. The house was immaculate, to the point of resembling a show house. There were no objects, I realized. I was surrounded by giant equipment I couldn’t lift, but no weights, not even a plastic water bottle I could use to defend myself against the petite blood-covered blonde slowly approaching me.

“You were such a miserable dope that first year. Pathetically waiting hand and foot on that stupid whore.”

Bianca took a step towards me, and I turned and ran. I ran down the stairs as fast as I could. I felt like I would fall forward with each step I whizzed by. I could hear Bianca running behind me, her breath ragged and sharp. Her footsteps pounding on the old wood, causing it to creak and groan under her weight. I jumped the last few steps, not looking behind me, not wanting to know how close she was, or to slow myself down. I slid towards the front door, hitting my shoulder into it with a thud. Pain shot through me, but I didn’t care. I twisted the knob, and pulled, but it wouldn’t budge. I threw the deadbolt, and pulled again, but to no avail. I felt a light hand on my shoulder, and the sweat on my forehead turned cold. I looked down and saw four long pink manicured fingernails.

“You’re not getting out that way, Chuck.” Bianca’s voice was calm and dark. I turned slowly to face her. She was only an inch away. I could feel her warm breath and I could see the glint of metal in her hand. A splatter of Jacob’s blood ran through the middle of Bianca’s face. She drew her face towards mine, passing me, till her lips rested against my ear.

“At least I’m beautiful, right?” She whispered.

“What’s going on!?!” My heart lept at the sound of my wife’s voice. Bianca turned, and I could see Tom, Victoria, Heather, and Ricky standing behind her, their faces twisted in confusion and shock. Victoria stepped back with the recognition of blood on Bianca’s face and shirt. “What the fuck is going on!?!” Victoria’s voice filled with disgust and fear.

Realizing what I had to do, I grabbed Bianca’s arms and held them behind her. She squirmed against my grip, “get off me!” She screamed.

“She killed Addison! And Leann! And Nick!” I yelled to Victoria, who looked at me uneasily. “I just caught her! She was standing over Jacob's body!”

“Let. Go.” Bianca cried between attempts to pull away from me.

“Body?” Heather asked hesitantly.

Victoria put her hand over her mouth, as if she might be sick.

Bianca dropped her right hand, the one holding the weight, hard. I jumped back without letting go, just in time to avoid having my hip smashed.

Tom was shaking his head in disbelief, his face lacking all of its usual charm and chipperness. He looked like he was in shock.

“She's still holding the bloody weight! Go look, if you don’t believe me.” I said, my voice strained with the effort of restraining Bianca. “He's in the gym.”

Tom turned and walked slowly up the stairs, hesitantly dragging his body towards the fourth of his dead friends. Victoria followed and Heather, not losing her go-getter attitude during the unreal friend-turned-homicidal-lunatic situation, ran past them and into the exercise room.

Her scream filled the hallway and entrance where I stood, trying to keep the Bianca from killing the rest of us.

Ricky, seeing my struggle, came and grabbed Bianca from me. I allowed him to take her.

“What should we do with her?” He asked.

I shrugged. What does one do when your friend becomes a psycho without reason?

I could hear the group return from upstairs, and I turned away from Bianca and Ricky. Heather looked ill, all of the blood completely drained from her face. Victoria ran to me, and began to sob into my shoulder. I hugged her tightly.

Tom was shaking his head, staring at his wife, who was still being restrained, in disbelief. “Sweetheart.” The word trailed out of his mouth slowly, “did you really?” A tear fell from his eye. Bianca glared at him silently in response. “But why?” He asked, his voice strained and weak.

Bianca stood, her arms held behind her, the bloodied weight still in her grasp. “Why?” She asked, “why!?!” She screamed. She pulled her arms easily out from Ricky’s hold. She stepped towards Tom, and threw the weight at his head. He ducked, and it landed against the wall and fell heavily on the steps, then rolled onto the floor behind us. There was a sizeable hole in the plaster where it had landed. We all stood in shock as Bianca ran into the living room.

I turned to Ricky, “what the fuck?” I exclaimed. Ricky shrugged, and turned to follow her. We could do nothing but watch him leave.

With both out of view, I shook my head clear and ran to the front door. I tried it again, pulling at the knob with all my strength, but it wouldn’t budge. I ran into the living room, luckily devoid of either Bianca or Ricky, and fell on the large window facing the front yard. It was barren of any lock mechanisms and wouldn't even budge when I tried to open it. I growled in frustration, completely losing what little rational thought I had been able to maintain. I grabbed a lamp from the side table and threw it against the window, but it bounced off harmlessly.

“What the fuck!?” I screamed, my voice rough with fear and desperation. My throat was tight and I had to force myself to swallow. I turned to Tom, Heather, and Victoria.

“I told you,” Tom said quietly, looking at the window behind me, “Bianca was in charge of the renovations. She redid the windows and door too. I guess…” He trailed off. But we knew what he was thinking. She didn’t just renovate the house, she created a cage. She planned to murder all of us.

“But why?” I asked. “So she could run away with Ricky?”

“I always thought he had feelings for her.” Tom said, his voice cold and distant. He was lost. Too overwhelmed and in too much shock to feel emotions anymore. 

“Jesus.” Victoria said. “What the fuck do we do now?”

“The most logical thing is to stay here, together.” Heather said, her voice calm and filled with the authority of one often in charge. “The phone will be charged enough for me to call 9-1-1 soon. Until then, we should stand in a circle, with our backs together. That way, we can see if they try to attack us. We outnumber them, they can’t kill all of us at once. That’s the safest thing we can do right now.”

We stood in silence for a second, thinking about the situation and mulling over what needed to be done to survive. A loud burst of thunder filled the room, and lighting illuminated the yard from outside. It was followed by a deafening crack, and the house was plunged into darkness.

“Oh fuck me!” I screamed, my eyes falling on where I remembered the now black phone was behind Tom.

I looked to the window, but the streetlights had gone out outside as well. We were shrouded in utter blackness.

“The cell phones!” Tom’s voice pierced the darkness beside me, “that bitch was the one that suggested we lock them up!” I felt him move beside me, and heard his footsteps as he ran towards the stairs.

“Fuck! Tom, stop!” Victoria called after him, but it was too late. We could hear the thud of heavy footsteps running up the stairs.

Realization hit me. “That fucking bitch must have changed the combination!”

“Probably after she killed Addison.” Heather's voice came from beside me, terror threatening to break the calm she had, till then, successfully forced into her tone.

“We know the combination is mostly the same. Tom just has to try the nine remaining numbers to figure it out. If we're lucky, it'll be one of the first numbers he tries.” Victoria reasoned.

I nodded, uselessly. “Worst case scenario, it won't take him forever to try nIne combinations.” I thought for a moment, surrounded in darkness, and added “I hope he has a flashlight up there.”

“Alright, whatever,” Heather said, “as long as the rest of us stay here, together, we still outnumber them.”

The house wheezed, and shook with the weight of the storm. We stood there in silence, desperately straining our ears to hear any sound around us in the black room. I reached my hand out tentatively to the spot I had last heard Victoria’s voice come from. I found her soft, small hand, and grabbed it. She squeezed my hand in return. I held my breath, the sounds of the storm were overpowering the loud pounding of my blood through my ears.

A crash echoed around us, followed by a streak of lightning which illuminated the room. Behind Heather stood Bianca, her arm raised, the stained trophy from the office hovering above her.

Victoria screamed as darkness descended around us once more. Despite thunder stretching across the sky with a low grumble that echoed in my chest, I could hear the impact clearly. There was a wet thud, and a crack that sent shivers down my spine. A thick warm substance landed on my face and arm. Something heavy began to fall beside me, and I heard the sickening snap of Heather’s bones as she landed, hard, in front of us on the wooden floor.

“That’s the original wood you know.” Bianca’s voice danced around in the dark, and I brought Victoria closer to me, wrapping my wet arm around her shoulders. Her body was shaking, and I could her her breath burdened with heavy tears.

With a sharp snap, electricity flooded the house once more. As the lights came on around us, I felt my stomach lurch and bile rise to the top of my throat: Bianca’s face was mere inches from my own, and she was smiling. Her arm raised above her head once more.

Without time to think or process much of what was around me, I pushed my wife away from me, balled my fist, and punched Bianca as hard as I could in the stomach. Her breath left her instantly, and her hand dropped as she curled into herself, hitting the side of my arm with the trophy as it descended. It stung, but the force behind it was weak and the direction off enough to cause little damage.

Bianca turned in pain, and I saw Heather. She lay on the ground, her limbs twisted around her. As with Addison, her head was split with a crack, but this one was much larger and more ragged than Addison’s. Blood and brains had exploded out of her skull, as if Bianca had destroyed a mere pinata. The room, as well as Victoria and I were covered in the remains of our friend.

I looked to Victoria, who stood motionless, staring at Bianca, her mouth wide open and a splash of blood staining her shirt and pants. Her face was pale, and I saw that she was now shaking more violently, her body trembling at the sight. I reached out towards her. “Victoria.” I said. I looked from her to Bianca, who was trying to stand up straight, her hands over her stomach protectively. She was looking from me to Victoria and back. My hand was almost to my wife’s arm. Victoria shook her head, and stepped back out of my reach. I knew what she was going to do, and I had to stop her with my voice. “Victoria.” I said again. Tears streamed down her face as she shook her head harder.

“No, no, no, no.” She said, the words barely leaving her lips, turning into sobs by the last “no.” She turned and ran to the kitchen. Bianca straightened, shot me a quick glare, and followed.

I stepped forward and grab her arm, “like hell I’m going to let you murder my wife!”

She snorted, “Oh yes, your wife.” She elongated the last word mockingly.

I tightened my grip around her arm and tried to swing her into the wall behind me, but she resisted, digging her feet into the floor and pulling on her trapped arm. I saw her look down at where the trophy had dropped next to Heather’s body, and I kicked her hard in the shin.

She screamed out as the leg fell underneath her, but she continued to reach towards the murder weapon.

Lifting my leg to stomp on her now bent leg in front of me, hoping to break her ankle as my foot landed on her thigh, I felt a hard thud against my head. I fell to my knees, barely missing Heather’s face, and looked up to see Ricky, standing behind me, lowering the weight that killed Jacob to his side. He returned my gaze, his face barely revealing a look of concern before straightening back into apathetic coldness.

Tears welled in my eyes uncontrollably. My head stinging where I was hit. Warm blood began to trickle behind my ear. “Why?” I asked, my voice strained with pain and confusion.

He didn’t answer. Recovering herself, Bianca stood. She looked down at me with disgust, then up at Ricky. In an annoyed tone, she said, “you didn’t fucking kill him, asshole!”

Ricky shrugged at her, “you’re the murderer in all this, not me.”

Bianca scoffed, and lowered herself so that she was level with my ear. “Do you ever think about Tom fucking your perfect wife? Do you ever look at him, goofing off and flirting with even tubbo here,” she gestured to Heather, “and remember with horror and shame that he was the idiot who took your precious Victoria’s virginity?” I could feel an old anger growing inside me, rising from beneath me until my body was alight with its heat. “Does it haunt you, to know that she told him she loved him, and he broke up with her in reply? The woman you were infatuated with, the woman you loved beyond all reason, was used and abused by an idiot. Her heart was torn and all Tom did was go and immediately fuck me. You know why?” She pressed her lips closer to my ear and continued, whispering, “because he thought of her as just a pussy to fuck. He never cared about her. He just liked having that pretty mouth around his cock.” I was shaking with rage. Bianca smiled. “You know, I’ve always suspected that, if Tom propositioned her, she fuck him in a heartbeat. I bet, if Tom asked her to leave you for him, she wouldn’t even pack her bags. She’d grab his arm and run out the door before you even finished taking a shit.”

My rage exploded and I swung the trophy my fingers had found as Bianca made her speech. Despite not aiming, I hit her squarely in the side of the head. Bianca fell to the side. Ricky lunged for me and I raised my arm and swung down, missing his head but hitting his left shoulder hard enough to slow him down.

I jumped up, the sudden movement making me dizzy. I swallowed and ran to the kitchen. Victoria was at the door leading into the backyard, desperately clawing at the sides, trying to peel them free of whatever Bianca had used to seal them. The white door frame was stained with red marks, my wife’s fingertips covered in blood. I noticed with a sickening feeling that one of her nails was missing.

I heard Bianca and Ricky getting up with groans. I grabbed Victoria’s shoulder, “quick, we have to get out of here! That door isn’t going to open, we have to try another way!”

Victoria looked at me, not stopping her attempts to open the door. Her eyes were wide with panic, her face barely recognizable. She was in a manic frenzy, and I realized reason wasn’t going to work. I wrapped my arms around her waist and began pulling her towards the garage door.

Victoria shoot out from my grasp, both of us slippery with our friends’ blood, and ran towards the office.

I went to follow her, but at that moment, Bianca came into the room. I froze and stared at her as she smiled wickedly at me. The trophy was in her hand again. She turned her head, smiled at me, and began to run to where I had just watched my wife disappear.

I lunged towards her, my heart pounding, and reached out, fast. My hand found blonde hair. I clenched my fist. Bianca kept running, but was stopped short by my grip. She screamed as her feet continued to move under her while her head and shoulders stayed where they were. Her legs shot out in front of her and she fell with a crash. I could feel the pull of her hair in my fist as the rest of her body fell too far away. A ripping sound echoed in the room as some of the hair grew slack in my hand. I let go, chunks of bloody flesh falling from my hand where they had pulled free from her scalp.

I bent down to grab her. She rolled out of my reach. I dove at her, but she was standing before I could keep her on the ground. Damn that pilates.

She raised the trophy once again. Instead of wasting time trying to stand, I cowered beneath her, raising my arms to protect my face. A choked sob escaped my mouth as I prepared for the pain. For death.

There was a dull whack, and Bianca’s body fell on top me like a thick heavy sack. I instinctively reached for her as she rolled off, stopping her from falling to the floor, and slowly lowered her. She landed with a soft thud and moaned in pain, putting a hand to the back of her head. I realized I was crying, and wiped my face with the sleeve of my shirt. I looked up to see Victoria, eyes wide, a pan in her hands.

“Are you ok?” Victoria asked. I nodded, relieved to see my wife shaken out of her panic. Hearing my cries and realizing I was in danger had snapped her back to reality and I had my strong Victoria back, but only for a second. Recovering quickly, Bianca reached out and grabbed Victoria’s leg. The back of Bianca’s head, only inches from my face, was bleeding quite badly, from both the pan and losing so much of her hair. Her arm was shaky, but still she was able to find the force she needed to pull her down to the floor.

I kicked at Bianca, and wrapped my arms around her shoulders to stop her, but I was suddenly aware of my body being lifted from the ground, Bianca sliding from my hold. I screamed and kicked as my arms were held behind my back. I felt the large bulk of Ricky behind me, and  I looked over my shoulder at him. His face was oddly calm.

I twisted in his clutch, but he just stared at Bianca in front of him, wrestling with Victoria as she tried to stand while keeping Victoria down. I kicked at his shin, but I felt like a child fighting against a parent, my feeble attempts to harm completely unnoticed.

“What the fuck are you doing, man?” I screamed at him, looking from his face to my wife’s losing battle with the murderer. “You’re married, you’re successful, you’re happy! Why are you helping this psychobitch!?!”

Ricky smiled slightly at Bianca, “because she’s all I ever wanted.” He answered.

I turned away in disgust, and watched Bianca. Despite Victoria being much less injured, she was struggling to overcome Bianca. I tried to pull my arms from Ricky, but his grip was too tight, too firm. Steeling myself, I pulled forward while raising my leg, determined to put every inch of power I had into saving my wife. I kicked back hard, trying to land the blow on his knee and force him down, but he moved back just in time, and twisted my arm tight. I fell to the floor with a scream. He lowered his knee onto my back, pinning me to the linoleum floor. I continued to fight fruitlessly, my eyes glued to my wife.

Bianca was now standing above her, smiling in glorious victory. Despite her efforts, Victoria couldn’t seem to keep her eyes open. I hadn’t witnessed Bianca hurt her yet, or heard any heavy blow. I couldn’t comprehend why Victoria was struggling so much. I watched her body fall limp as all her strength disappeared.

“What’s wrong with her!?” I yelled at Bianca. She looked at me, a small expression of disappointment on her face.

“You’re still looking quite perky…” She said, “you really should have had more of your margarita.” My stomach sank. No wonder she seemed to be recovering so much faster than anyone else.

Bianca raised the trophy, and I screamed, thrashing against Ricky.

“Please, no!” Tears stung my eyes. “Don’t hurt her! We have a child! Please! Stop!”

Bianca looked at me, and winked. Her arms began to descend down and I screamed, the pain and fear exploding out of my violently as I felt the weight of true ineffectiveness.

The trophy come down on Victoria with a wet heavy thump. Blood squirted above her, and fell in a line that connected me to her one last time. Bianca raised her arms and dropped them, over and over again. The sound of the metal hitting Victoria’s face and head made me vomit onto the floor between desperate sobs. She was so drugged up, she didn’t even scream, and soon the room was silent except for the dull thud of the trophy hitting her dead flesh, and the spray of blood against the wall and us. Some part of my mind reach out through the fog of shock and pain to realize that the storm outside had stopped. I fell, the struggle to win, to survive, dying inside me. I watched, sobbing, as my wife’s face was pounded into a mess of flesh, bone, and blood. She was soon unrecognizable.

“Why?” I asked, the word spitting from my mouth as a choked sob.

Bianca turned to me, dropping the trophy at her feet with a clash that rang in the quiet room. “Why? Why!? Why!?!” She repeated, each why growing louder until she was screaming. Her arms were covered in blood, all the way to her elbows, and her face and hair were now wet it. Bits of my wife’s tissue were falling from her clothes, and she took a step towards me, her feet sticking slightly to the blood on the floor. She curled her lip into a snarl as she brought her face to mine.

“Because, I am not just a body.” Her voice was low, almost like a growl. “I have spent my whole life being called dumb, but pretty. Useless, but gorgeous.” She spun away from me, gesturing to the empty room, yelling, “Simple, but at least I’m fuckable!” She turned back to me, “but look! Look at me now!” She yelled, raising her arms to the air. “Am I useless now? Am I nothing but a body now, Chuck? Look at me, look at what I’m capable of!” She lowered her arms, and locked eyes with me, “Now I’ll be remembered for more than being beautiful, more than just a nice pair of tits, more than an ass.” She lowered her face to mine again, and whispered, “I have affected you. Your life is ruined, because of me. You will die at my hands. Could just a body do that?” She smiled, and stood.

Walking towards the kitchen counter, she continued, “None of you ever thought much of me. Don’t try to tell me otherwise. I’m sick of listening to lies. I’m just the pretty face of the group. And for that, each and every one of you will pay.” She pulled a knife out of a drawer, and turned back to me, stepping over my wife’s mutilated body. “And now it’s your turn.” She looked up at Ricky, “pick him up.”

I began to fight, screaming, as Ricky lifted me back to standing. Bianca raised the knife.

A loud bang echoed off the glass surrounding us, making the room resonate with the sound. My ears felt as if they had begun to bleed, and a loud ringing noise filled my hearing. Bianca fell with a heavy solid thud. I felt Ricky’s grasp fall away and I dove to the side. Another bang and I turned to watch Ricky fall backwards, hitting his already bleeding head on the window behind him.

I looked towards the door to the living room. Tom stood holding a shotgun up to his eye. His arm fell, and the gun hung uselessly beside him. He looked from my dead wife to his, and then to the dead Ricky. His eyes locked on mine and I saw an intense determination within them. His jaw was locked in a stern expression I had never seen before. Slowly, a deranged smile grew on his face.

“That cunt didn’t know about Janet here!” He threw his head back and laughed maniacally to the ceiling. Tom had always enjoyed traditionally manly sports and activities. I wasn’t surprised hunting would be one of them. I guess Bianca hadn’t approved. Thank god that didn’t stop him.

“But… she drugged the margaritas… How are you still standing?” I stammered.

“I spilled mine before even getting a sip. And here I was, worried she’d be pissed I stained the couch!” Deep barks of laughter spewed from his body uncontrollably.

I jumped up, and ran to the living room where I had plugged in the phone, but it was gone. Tom was still laughing like a psychopath in the kitchen.

“Jesus, Tom. Shut the fuck up, will yea?”

Tom stopped laughing, his face falling to a frown. He walked to the couch beside me and sat down. All the energy that was there seconds ago drained from him. I didn’t care, I just wanted to get out of that damn house.

“Did you get into the safe?” I asked.

Tom shook his head solemnly.

“Was there any window or door she didn’t replace in the renovations?” Tom shook his head hopelessly. I clutched my head, trying to force the images of what remained of my wife in the kitchen from my mind. “Fucking hell, Tom, just shot the damn door open!” I growled.

“No more bullets.” He said, blankly.

I screamed in frustration, and sat heavily beside him. Putting my elbows on my thighs, I dropped my head into my hands, and began to sob. The salty liquid flowed out as waves of emotion washed over me. All of the stress, fear, and shock of the night was drowning me, and I had decided to let it.

And then my watch buzzed. I sniffled, blinking away the tears, and looked down at my wrist.

My smartwatch. It was 9:08pm.

The screen was illuminated, and in small font it read:

MOM:

Hope you guys are having fun!

Finally got Holly to bed.

She misses you!!

Xoxox

I sat there, dumbfounded for a moment. I hit the right button on the watch, and selected the Reply option.

From there, I had the option of Voice, Canned messages, or Emoji. I looked at the options for a moment mulling them over..

A scene floated in front of me, an image of me sending a kissy emoji, then going into the kitchen, turning on the gas, and kneeling in the oven until this pain was permanently erased. But then I thought of Molly. I thought of her smile, and her laugh. I thought of her red tear stained face as I put a band-aid on yet another skinned knee. I thought of her sleeping beside me, the look of innocence and peace. She had so much to learn, so much life ahead of her. A life of pain, loss, love, discovery. A full life, a life of value.

I breathed in, and selected Voice. A little icon of a microphone displayed.

“Send help.” My watch thought for a moment, and then the two words displayed on the screen. I selected the ok button.

Sent.