#ask sean and fuzz | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

meowdymista · 5 years ago

Text

Van der Driscoll Pt9

Part 8 - Masterlist

"I didn’t know they did table service here," teases Tilly, sitting down with you and Hosea to eat.

The man chuckles in response. “Could you imagine them selling this stuff in a restaurant? Stew du jour?”

You let them chatter as you pull apart a bread roll. Right now, you would rather be tucking into spitroast turkey than the bowl of mulch Hosea so kindly provided you, but you don’t complain. Your ears are straining to translate Charles' hushed conversation with Dutch.

You and Charles had begun to relay your findings to Dutch and Hosea when you had wobbled. Calling Miss Tilly to take you to the round table south of camp, Hosea had soon followed you to make sure you put food into your stomach for “the two of you”. You haven’t been back long, and Charles was still talking with Dutch. Your grip tightened around the spoon. Every minute they spent talking about it was another lost on a search for Arthur.

Voices sound on the other side of the tents. The three of you stop eating and look over.

“Miss Jackson, would you mind checking on the commotion?” asks Hosea casually, his hand outstretched to stop you jumping to your feet, but Dutch striding out of his tent, arms outstretched is plenty confirmation enough.

Relief hits you so hard, you feel as though you’ve been sedated. Meeting the old man’s crinkled brown eyes, you let out a huge sigh.

“Looks like he’s back,” he smiles. “Let him get Dutch up to speed before we go over. You still need to finish that bowl before I excuse you.”

“Miss Grimshaw, I need help!” Dutch’s voice cracks as it carries over the camp. Hosea is no longer looking at you, but looking out at the commotion. “Reverend Swanson?”

You spot Tilly running back over looking unusually worried.

“What’s happening?” asks Hosea as soon as she’s within earshot.

“Swanson!” cries Dutch again.

“It’s Arthur!” she pants. “He fell off his horse an-”

Arthur’s cry is almost a scream. By the time you make it over, Pearson and Dutch have all but dragged him over the grass and onto his bed. “You are safe now, Arthur… you’re safe now…”

“That’s pretty, Dutch.” He rasps out a half crazed chuckle. "That’s reeeaaal pretty.”

“What the hell happened?” demands Hosea.

“Colm happened,” Dutch growls.

“Colm? How could Colm happen? You said he was right behind you!”

“He was!” he argues fiercely, as you push past him to kneel at the head of the bed, brushing the hair from the sweat condensed on his forehead. “Those O’Driscoll rats must have grabbed him afterwards, while he was wandering-”

“Mr Morgan needs medical attention,” Miss Grimshaw announces with a glare at the arguing elders of the group. “Now! Where’s Strauss? Someone bring me his medical supplies!”

Dutch is ushered from under the cover of the tent, leaving Hosea to help Susan divvy up the responsibilities - he sends Karen to get clean water, Mary Beth to get it on the boil, and Tilly to grab whatever herbs and medicines she can find. Bill takes over the watch in case Arthur’s been followed into camp, and Charles rides out to town to locate the Austrian.

Within an hour, Strauss is climbing off the back of Taima, shaking his head as Miss Grimshaw gushes questions. You move away, watching from the foot of the bed as he inspects the wound as best he can with a nearby lantern.

“It’s too dark to work on this yet, Miss Grimshaw,” he announces, his beady eyes concerned as they survey the suffering fever of Arthur’s face. “He’s going into shock from the wound, regardless. I wouldn’t want to upset it further.”

“What does that mean?” you ask, but they are communicating silently, despairingly, even as they prop his feet into the air. You jump as a hand grips your shoulder, patting it clumsily.

“It’s going to be a long night,” the Reverend slurs, flattening his crazed hair, his bloodshot eyes layered with fear and regret. “He won’t be alone if you’d rather not stay.”

“God’s sake, Reverend! We don’t need you drinking right now!” snaps Miss Grimshaw, raking her cheeks with the back of her hands.

“Is he going to be ok?” Your voice is barely audible over the rattling of Arthur’s shaky breathing.

“It isn’t looking all that good, Miss,” the Reverend replies when no one else will. “I have my… supply… if he needs it.”

“It could ease his suffering,” muses Strauss. “Perhaps levy some of the fever. Bring it all.”

“All?” repeats the Reverend, but Miss Grimshaw is barking again, smacking him out of the tent as she reels off favours Arthur has pulled to help him out. (“And bring back a chair for Miss LN! I don’t need to be tending to swollen ankles on top of everything else right now!”)

“Isn’t there something we can do?” Your voice cracks as you stroke his hair. He’s awfully pale, his breathing shallow and barely moving the stubble around his lips.

“We can wait.” Strauss packs away his instruments and puts them aside. “Wait to see if he pulls through. If he makes it to the morning, we will be able to get a better idea of what we’re dealing with and how bad the infection is. Perhaps then we will be able to treat it. For now, however...”

“What if he doesn’t?” A flash of pity peeks over the small lenses of his glasses. The world spins as your inner organs dissolve. Before you can stagger, Miss Grimshaw has pushed a chair under you. You catch a glimpse of Dutch as darkness encroaches. His arms are at his side, and as you try to call out on Arthur’s behalf, he turns around and walks away.

*****

Pain. A deep ache in his bones, in his muscles, in his hips and shoulders and neck.

Movement makes stars erupt before his eyes, the grunt that slips through bringing his attention to how dry his mouth and throat are. He all but has to crack his tongue to his lips, to no avail.

His cough is dry - the air moves without friction through his throat and out of his mouth. No phlegm, no mucus, just air moving through a dry windpipe. The jolt of life crunches his ribs and sparks blinding, deafening pain in his left shoulder. Copper licks drily at his hand, calming him, bringing him out of the fog and back into reality.

Opening his eyes is difficult. They’re thick with rest, his eyeballs rolling in their sockets trying to move aside the cloudiness that’s coated them overnight. Light burns through the cracks at every attempt, nothing quite discernable, no texture beyond moggy fuzz.

His ears twitch at the familiar voice:-

“-still you have not told me…. He… Heathcliff. How C... Cath… Catherine is left be… behind? Behind!

“I had Cathy by the hand, and was… ur... urging her on, when all at once she fell down. ‘Run, Heathcliff, run!’ she… she whisp- she whispered. ‘They have let the bull dog… lose? Loose!, and he holds me.’ The dog was… was pulled off. His huge, purple - ton… ton… tongue? His purple tongue hanging half a foot out of his mouth. The man took Cathy up. She was sick. Not from fear, I’m… I’m certain, but from pain.”

Arthur tries to open his eyes again, but still can’t see clearly. He’s struggling to place the name through the swirling memories of red hair and the green bowler hat that accompany the voice.

“Morgan?”

A loud gasp sounds right beside his head, making him flinch with surprise. Copper’s wet nose turns into fingers and hands pulling at his arm, making him yelp out muddled expletives as stars flash brighter than before.

“Arthur? Arthur?”

“W-Where am I?”

“Arthur!” You release his hand, wringing out the cloth suspended in the basin of water and using it to wipe his eyes. Eventually they stay open long enough for the blue and greens of his irises to drink in your face.

“Y/N…” He raises his left arm to touch you, but grunts and lowers it back down. You shush him, pushing his arm back onto the cot and leaning your weight against it to stop him trying again.

“Arthur!” A laugh escapes your stomach, sounding shrill from the lack of use. “Arthur! Are you ok? I can’t believe you’re awake!”

“I can’t believe…” He coughs again, prompting you to wet his lips with the cup of water on his bedside. “Is that Sean reading from an actual book?”

“I told yer, din’t I? Didn’t I tell you, Y/N? I said bet ya anything Morgan cracks his eyes open while I’m readin’ to youse.”

“Are you alright? Can I get you anything?”

He gives you a soft and tired smile, patting your hands with his good arm. “Knock me out again before he talks me into my grave.”

Arthur smirks at the horror on your face, but Sean is stood up behind you, jabbing his finger in his direction as he replants the green bowler hat on his head.

“I’ve been doin’ yer job for yer whilst you’ve been snoozing! Might not ‘ave been readin’ the same story the author intended, like, but-”

Arthur frowns, confused and growing defensive. “You been hittin’ on my woman, Macguire?”

“Pfft! As if she’d let me! Y/N needed a gentleman’s voice to soothe the wain inside her, and since you was otherwise engaged, gettin’ kidnapped an’ all, I figured I’d best step in. You owe me a pretty penny for me labours, Mr Morgan!” He tips his hat, nodding when you ask him to let Hosea and Miss Grimshaw know Arthur’s awake.

“What he say? The baby’s kickin’?”

You laugh breathily, unable to keep the smile from your face as you trace the lines of his face. “I might have twisted the truth,” you admit, pride pricking your chest. “I started a little while back. I know Lenny wants him to practice his reading, so I mentioned you were reading to me and the baby…” Arthur frowns, trying to recall your claims. Your smirk widens. “And since I can’t read myself…”

“I’m sure I’ve seen you readin’ the paper before?”

You laugh loudly before you can stop yourself. “Well Sean hasn’t, so don’t go snitching on me!”

A dull twinkle sparkles in the back of his eyes as he groans, stretching the parts of his body he can move without further injury. “Winnin’ over Dutch’s Boys one by one, eh?”

“If only Mrs Adler could be so easily persuaded,” you sigh. Arthur throws you a questioning look, but Miss Grimshaw marches in before you can elaborate.

“Mr Morgan! Good to see you back with us!”

“How long I been out?”

“Long enough that we thought we was gonna lose you.” You move down the bed, releasing Arthur’s hand but maintaining contact with his leg at all times. You still need to feel the warmth of his skin and the subtle movements of muscle to keep you assured that he’s still here, and still alive. Miss Grimshaw’s checks are brief, and you both get lectured for not finishing the water on the side, but Arthur is already drifting off again by the time she leaves.

“Stay wi’me?” he mumbles, searching feebly for your hand. You move it into his path and smile as he grips it with his remaining strength.

“Always, Arthur.”

***

The following six weeks are the quietest you’ve had in over six months. Everybody gives you space to be together, recognising the time frame for Arthur’s rehabilitation into his outlaw ways and also out of respect for your expanding stomach.

Naturally, his feet get itchy with all the sitting around, so you push his journal onto him. Within a week, he has delicate detailed studies of everyone in camp, including several of you (not all of them with clothing). When he gets some of his strength back, you begin to take walks along the shore, talking about old memories and catching him up on what he’s missed. You reflect on what it could be like if you got out of this life - not that you would. Arthur had his roots deep in this gang, woven into so many of the men and some of the women here, you know that no matter how far you travelled, he would still come back to them somehow, some day.

Eventually Arthur asks you how you’ve been getting on with everybody whilst he’s been resting or unconscious. You admit you spent most of the time at his side, only eating when Hosea or Abigail brought you some dinner and something to drink. You’ve played a lot of dominoes with both of them, read every book in camp, been scorned repeatedly for neglecting your chores (though a part of you feels like Miss Grimshaw was relieved Arthur had someone constantly at his side). Whilst Lenny and Charles have warmed to you a little, Sadie, Javier, and Bill have remained suspicious, most likely because of your quiet escapade to look for Arthur. You’ve overheard whispers around camp that Arthur returned so soon after you because you made a deal with Colm. That some O’Driscoll boys grabbed him, so you could prove yourself trustworthy and get in closer to hand Dutch off to Colm directly.

You don’t mention this to Arthur because you know he doesn’t need to be worked up more after the truth of the ordeal. He has already told you what really happened after he left Dutch and Micah. Colm knew Dutch wouldn’t go walking into an open air parlay without his best shot, so he had created the entire folly to catch Arthur with the intention of enraging Dutch into being careless.

Your stomach sinks as you remember the image of Dutch walking away from Arthur’s lucid body and the way he fought so hard against any mention of a rescue mission. You keep your lips pressed together. The leader has shown you more leniency and acted less bitter about your presence of late. Funnily enough, your trust in him has waned further - if it weren’t Arthur’s unwavering faith in the man, you would be dragging him out now whilst he was still weak.

One evening, whilst Arthur is getting dressed into dry clothes after your swim, you pass just as Miss Grimshaw stops to greet Uncle and a couple of other men around the fire.

“How you gentlemen keeping?” she asks pleasantly

“Fine, Miss Grimshaw, and you?”

“Just fine, sir, just fine.”

“I must say,” says Uncle. “All this adventuring and wandering over mountain passes, being chased and running for our lives… Surely agrees with you.” He chuckles as thoughtfully as the old man is able. “If I didn’t know, I would think you was the same age as them silly girls.”

“Oh! Away with you, silly man!” she scorns, clearly flattered.

“Oh no, no. Well, if I was five years younger and a thousand dollars richer, well I’d marry you… Make a dishonest woman of you, I would. And that would be the best decision I ever took! You’re a fine woman. You keep it hidden under that sour vinegar face and nasty acid tongue, but I know that’s just a rose’s thorns.”

She tuts. “You’re a silver-tongued flatterer and no mistake.”

“Oh, now I tell the truth, ma’am!”

“I must get back to my work,” she scowls, marching off in the direction of Miss Tilly and Mrs Adler.

With your eyebrows lost in your hairline, you hurry back to the tent, pushing Arthur back through the flaps.

“You will never believe what I just heard!” you hiss. Immediate concern clouds his gaze, but you’re already recalling Miss Grimshaw’s reaction to Uncle’s flirting. He laughs, relaxing as he pulls you into a hug.

“She ain’t interested in him,” he assures you.

“I bet you ten bucks if he asks her out, she’ll say yes!”

“Huh, you’re on!” He’s still smirking as he shakes your hand. “You didn’t see her twenty years ago. There’s no way she’d go from Dutch all the way down to Uncle. She’ll give Micah the time of day until he twists it into some insult, but still, there’s Micah and then there’s Uncle.”

Nevertheless, a few days later, you and Arthur are talking quietly by the stew, sipping on coffee, pondering what to do with your day - perhaps some hunting, perhaps some light pickpocketing - when suddenly Uncle calls to Miss Grimshaw across camp.

“There you are!”

“Me?”

“You.”

“Me?” repeats Miss Grimshaw, clearly as confused as the pair of you.

“Yes, you!” Uncle strolls up to her. “When you gonna let me take you out for an evening, into town, you know, to a - like a magic lantern show or some such?”

“Well, I don’t- I think-” She moves past him to sit on the nearby crate. “I’m getting a little long in the tooth for-!”

“Oh, nonsense! How about tomorrow?”

“Well, let me think.”

“So… that’s a yes?” asks Uncle, leaning forward hopefully. Miss Grimshaw looks at him again, hesitantly, until her shoulders relax, bearing a little vulnerability.

“Okay,” she says finally, her usually hard features softening.

“Well… now, if I’m gonna go out with you, I’m gonna have to look my best, so… Can I borrow ten dollars?”

You and Arthur are too stunned to even snort. Miss Grimshaw stare is icy.

“Can I borrow a few dollars?” tries Uncle. “I’m good for it.”

She turns her head to the pair of you gawping over your morning coffee. A part of you has frozen with regret - in the same second of her showing her softer side she’s immediately been smited with poor etiquette from the stinkiest member of the gang.

“Borrow money?” she asks, voice shaking. You see the rage building behind her eyes as she looks back at Uncle with disgust. “Oh, you horrible man!” she snarls, marching away as Uncle shrugs at you and Arthur.

“Can’t blame a feller for trying,” he chuckles, shuffling off in search of another bottle.

“That’s low, Uncle,” calls Arthur despairingly.

“I’m a bit short right now!” he replies, daring to sound surprised and a little hurt.

“You sure know how to impress the ladies,” he comments, nudging you towards the shore. “Alright, well, we should be getting on.”

“Alright then!”

You gawp at Arthur unable to keep the laugh of disbelief inside. “That what you expected?”

“I don’t even know what to expect no more,” he chuckles despite himself, pressing a cup of coffee into your hand. “Guess I owe you a few bucks.”

“I’m almost disappointed,” you admit as you take a sip, taking Arthur’s arm as he leads you through the tents and caravans. “Never would have thought it, but… If it weren’t for that I woulda pegged them for an alright couple.”

“God forbid she whip him into shape, or he loosen her standards. Might give the girls a bit of relief if Miss Grimshaw got some though.”

“Is that what everyone thinks of you, Mr Morgan?” you tease.

“Well, it came with complications in the end, din’t it?” he retorts, a secret smile in his eyes just for you. “Though Hosea reckons I’d gotten soft before the big O’Driscoll reveal.”

“Softer now you can’t shoot, that’s for sure.” You plant a kiss on the side of his shoulder, taking care not to knock the healing wound.

“Ah, for now.” He takes a deep breath as you reach the water’s edge, watching over the horizon. “Think I’d be itching more without you here to distract me.”

“Now you know how I feel!” You kick off your boots, your stockings coming off with them as you hoist your skirts up your calf to keep them dry as you wade in. “It’s hard going from key outlaw to hand maiden, isn’t it?”

“I’m a maiden now, huh?” He catches your hand and tugs you back into his chest, eyes sparkling with mischief. You giggle as he catches your lips with his. “The help ain’t supposed to help themselves to each other, though, are they?”

“I can make an exception, Mr Morgan.”

He hums appreciatively, kissing you again, forehead resting against yours. “I love you, Miss LN. I mean that.”

There’s nothing you can do to stop the heat from filling your cheeks, so you let them glow with colour. “I love you too, Arthur Morgan.”

Suddenly you catch Miss Grimshaw’s shouts over the camp. You sigh miserably as Arthur chuckles to himself.

“Can’t catch a break,” you groan.

Arthur stoops to steal another kiss from you before you begin wading back to shore. “Be careful! She’s gonna be extra fierce after that show!”

Miss Grimshaw works you harder than the other girls, but whether it’s for your witnessing her embarrassment or because she knows Arthur will do at least half the work is anyone’s guess. When Arthur is well enough, you accompany him out hunting for some turkeys and a couple of deer, and the recovery of the gang’s best shot doesn’t go unnoticed by the other men.

Dutch tells him to go find Bill, Micah, and Sean in Rhodes - something about the Greys needing security. Vague, but for a lead from Bill is not surprising. You wish him luck, remind him you love him and to stay safe, and busy yourself with chores to keep your mind occupied. Your stomach is dropping with dread, but you tell yourself he’ll be fine - after all, how many jobs has he been on before the Micah and Dutch fiasco?

You surprise even yourself with how quickly you finish everything Miss Grimshaw asks you too, but you make the most of it, taking the extra free time to go for a swim. Something about being in the water helps your forever aching back and makes you feel like your usual self again instead of some sort of heavy wall even though the curve of your stomach is barely protruding.

You see Jack playing on the shore and promise Abigail you’ll keep an eye on him whilst she finishes her own worklist. You don’t try to teach him how to swim - Arthur had already tried that and almost ripped the few stitches Strauss had managed to put into his shoulder.

You swim a couple of lengths, watching Jack as he follows the shoreline, collecting interesting pebbles and leaves as he goes. Everything looks ok, until you surface and he is nowhere to be found.

“Jack?” You swim towards where you last saw the boy, and notice his small pile of rocks where he’s been building a house of some sort. Your eyes scour the water’s surface, but you can’t see any bubbles or any other hints of movement other than the fish.

Somewhere in the trees, you can hear unfamiliar voices talking calmly, followed by the little boy’s squeak of a voice -

“Jack!” You whistle your horse, cursing the added weight of your drenched underclothes. Sadie comes running through the trees and catches the reins of your horse, pulling him back.

“And where the hell d’you think you’re going?” she cries, her arms over the saddle in an attempt to stop you from mounting. “We got a runaway O’Driscoll over here!” she calls back.

The voices are fading - you need to go now. She ignores your arguments, still struggling with you and shouting for help. With a deep breath, you punch her in the face, making use of the distraction to gallop away despite the screaming and swearing from behind.

“Jack!” you shout. “Jack!”

You can hear hooves following up behind you, so you dig your heels into the stallion’s flanks urging it on faster. You can’t lose his trail.

Red dirt clouds billow behind you as you try to keep an ear out for voices, but with Sadie screaming threats behind you, it’s difficult. You fly by Kieran who’s on foot with a fishing rod resting on his shoulder. He looks confused as hell, but there’s no time for him to ask as you’re gone before he’s properly opened his mouth.

Raking the treeline to no avail, nausea hits you like a freight train. Who the hell would take a little boy from his family? Was Colm really that desperate to trip Dutch Van der Linde? Your horse almost throws you when Sadie cuts you off, forcing you to a halt. Her eyes are wild, blood drying around her nose and across her cheek where she’s smeared it in the struggle.

“Get the hell back to camp,” she spits, cocking her revolver. “If it weren’t for Arthur I would have shot you already.”

“Sadie, move!” You try to get your horse to sidestep her, but she moves her own, blocking your path easily. “It’s Jack!”

“What’s Jack?”

“I don’t know! He was there and then he wasn’t - if Colm’s got him-!”

She falters, looking around as if expecting the boy to jump out from behind a tree, “How’d you know it’s not John or someone taking him for a ride?”

“They wouldn’t just take him, Sadie! They weren’t familiar voices talking to him and-” You choke back the panic, trying to sidestep her horse again. “He’s a boy, Sadie! He’s a fucking little boy! You think what he did to Arthur was bad?”

She purses her lips but turns her horse. “Which way?”

You try to listen out, but the voices have gone. “I don’t know. We should double back and try to track them.”

“We should get some back up-”

“There’s no time, Mrs Adler!” you hiss. “Go back if you want, but I gotta keep going! I gotta find him!” She tries to protest, but your voice breaks as you shout - “Do you really think I can go back to camp without him?”

****

Returning to camp, heavy with grief and the prospect of informing you of Sean’s fate in Rhodes, Arthur isn’t all that surprised to find a group forming outside Dutch’s tent. What does take him by surprise is Dutch asking him if he’s seen Jack, of all things, followed by a distraught Abigail shouting and making threats if her son is not returned to her immediately.

A missing boy shakes up his priorities, and there is no hesitation as he rides out to Braithwaite Manor with the other men in camp. If anything, a small part of him is relieved to delay telling you about your best friend. Your very first friend after Arthur, you two had been close and Arthur knew having Sean made riding with the Van der Lindes bearable. In all truth, the dread in Arthur’s stomach was whether you would want to stay without someone else watching your back.

He puts it out of his mind, and with the manor fully ablaze, returns to camp with the gang, still focused on a plan of action. The sun is rising and the flaps to the tent are closed. He leaves you to sleep as he talks with Abigail, John, Dutch and Hosea about a game plan to recover Jack from this Angelo Bronte figure Mrs Braithwaite had confessed about.

The Pinkertons walking straight into camp and threatening to return with an army puts another delay on his talking with you. What good is checking in on you if you’re all dead? When Dutch sends him out with John to check Shady Belle is clear for the gang to set up camp, he seizes the opportunity whilst promising himself this will be the very last delay. Whilst trying to comfort John, he can’t help but let his mind wander to you. With Sean dead and buried and the camp being packed up in such a hurry, you must be feeling pressured, if not completely overwhelmed. Swallowing his guilt, he remembers you telling him that the gang will always come first. It makes him itch. You should be his priority - you are his whole world, and if he lost you because he was looking out for everyone else…

For the first time, he considers leaving the gang. When Hosea had asked whether he was thinking of getting out of the life on their ride to hunt a legendary grizzly bear, he was honest when he said of course not. Mostly because even though he could feel himself falling in love with you after a few coincidental meetings in Valentine, he never dreamed his feelings would be requited. Even after recognising you through your O’Driscoll get up, even after trying to ship you out of harm’s way and finding out your relationship was developing its own personality inside you, leaving his life as an outlaw wasn’t on the table.

Now, something was changing. How could he be the man you deserved if he was chasing after other people? Of course he wants Jack home safe as much as John or Abigail, but the guilt won’t excuse him for not talking to you yet. They needed him, but so did you.

“Welcome home, all of ya,” he shouts up the drive as the caravans and wagons roll up to the front door of the abandoned plantation house. “To my humble abode! Ignore the corpses and the alligators, it’s paradise…”

“I love it!” cries Dutch, arms outstretched and his grin stretched wider. “Miss Grimshaw, Mr Pearson, would you two kindly… work your magic? Arthur, take a ride with me?”

“Sure, just give me a minute?” It doesn’t escape Dutch’s notice that Arthur is counting the faces. “I should talk to Y/N, make sure she’s alright.”

“I’m sure she’s fine,” bluffs Dutch, but Arthur is craning his neck.

“Where is she? You leave her behind?”

“Of course not, Arthur, she’s with Sadie.”

“With Sadie?” Arthur’s lips thin, eyes darkening with suspicion. “Why the hell she with Sadie?”

Hosea walks up, already poker faced. “They just needed to finish up a little something. Nothing serious.”

“I’m sure, but Sadie?” He looks between them, concern creeping into the lines of his face. “Mrs Adler ain’t too friendly with her for her running with the O’Driscolls.”

“Dutch!” Molly comes running up between the wagons as Hosea ushers Arthur onto his horse. “Can I have a word with ye?”

“Not now! Come on, Arthur.”

Reluctantly, Arthur follows Dutch out of camp, only half listening to him as he curses her request to “talk”, talking about their future, the plan to recover Jack, the possibility of a life away from America. When they ride up to the bridge, what’s left of Arthur’s stomach flops with dismay.

“Big cities… they’re…”

“Always repellent?” Arthur nods his head. “I’ll find you in there.” He pulls The Count off onto another path, leaving Arthur on the bridge. “Go see what you can figure out.”

“Yes,” murmurs Arthur, bracing himself as he trots his horse through the slums. “If you find me before nightfall, that is.”

#rdr2 fic #rdr2 fanfic #red dead fic #red dead fanfic #van der driscoll #meowdymista

10 notes · View notes

ladyseaheart1668 · 5 years ago

Text

Endless Summer Book 4 : Daughter of Vaanu (Chapter 50)

Description: Tahira awakens! And she has a plan.

Tagging: @endlesshero1122 @mysteli @feartheendlesssummer @whatmcsaid @xo-endlessmayhem-xo @tigerbryn11

Chapter 50: Between the Cracks

Tahira

I can't breathe...I can't breathe! I push against the Endless' grip, trying to reach the surface, but she only holds me tighter.

“It's all right, Tahira. It's all right. Just watch.”

The images are still coming. Quinn Kelly, motionless on a bed her hands folded in a funereal pose atop a large, shining stone. She turns into Alodia, clutching the Prism Crystal, but she's no longer lying in repose. Her face is twisted with fury, her eyes gleaming fuschia with the Crystal's power as she attacks an unseen opponent. I can't breathe. I want to get out. Someone get me out of here! I flail, pounding the Endless' arms feebly with my fists. I can't perceive the images anymore. There's only a vague itch at the edge of my mind, telling me that I know something that I didn't know before.

“Tahira...?” I don't recognize the voice at first, but everything around me is fading. The images. The Endless. The ocean. Then, as I finally draw in a desperate breath, I feel something warm and soft on my cheek. “Tahira, baby, can you hear me?”

“...Mom...?” I realize that I have my eyes closed. I open them carefully, squinting against a sudden assault of florescent light. A figure, blurry but definitely my mother, hovers over me. I hear her choke on a sob as she strokes and kisses my face.

“Oh, baby, thank God!”

I become aware of a pressure on my hand, and turn to see Grayson perched on the edge of my bed, holding my hand. His clothes and hair are rumpled, and there's a layer of fuzz on his face like he hasn't shaved in a day or two.

“Do you remember what happened?” he asks anxiously.

“Got stabbed,” I mumble. My mind feels surprisingly clear, but it's taking my body a bit to catch up, I think, because my tongue feels heavy.

“Yeah. The surgery went well, but you took awhile to wake up afterwards. You had us worried. How are you feeling now?”

“Fine,” I answer without really taking stock. As soon as I say it, I realize that my side still feels like it's on fire. But I feel fairly confident I'll heal quickly now that I'm awake. “...Alodia...she was abducted...”

Mom and Grayson exchange a look of mild surprise.

“...Yeah...” Grayson confirms. “And Diego. How did...?”

“Crystal stuff. I'll explain later. ...I gotta talk to the Catalysts. I think I might have an idea about finding her.”

* * *

“You want to...use the Prism Crystal to find Alodia?”

It feels risky to be on a video call with all the Catalysts plus my team while I'm still in my hospital room, but I've got Grayson standing guard, ready to signal me if any staff get too close.

“Hear me out here. Quinn, when you were...possessed by Vaanu, you could feel the Island's Heart, right? You could feel where it was?”

“Vaguely,” Quinn confirms. “I could feel it pulling me toward the other half.”

“And there were other instances of the crystals leading you places, right?”

“Quarr'tel,” Jake says, nodding. “They slipped a crystal into Raj's pocket and it lit up like a firefly when we were headed in the right direction.”

“And when we had three of them staked together, they literally just showed us the path when we looked through them.”

“The Prism Crystal is specifically Alodia's life essence. But it didn't react until I came in contact with it as her blood relative. Maybe that connection will help me use it to track her.”

“I believe your idea could work in theory,” Varyyn says cautiously. “...I would be extremely hopeful, if not for the fact that her abductors have managed to block her psychic link with me. Suppose they have figured out a way to block any link with her that the Prism Crystal might give to you? What if that was a function of the poison you were dosed with?”

“It might well be,” I admit. “But what do we have to lose by trying?”

“Nothing,” Jake says. “If anything, we'd be failing Alodia and Diego by not trying. If there's even a chance it could get them back sooner...”

“I'm not disagreeing with you, Jake,” Dax chimes in, “But there are a few logistical problems to consider. For one thing, Tahira, you're still in the hospital with an abdomen full of stitches. Even with your enhanced healing, it's going to be a process. You won't do anyone any good if you tear out your stitches and bleed out searching for Alodia and Diego. Two, this isn't La Huerta, where you guys were on your own with only Vaanti authority to deal with. If this works, how do we explain it? How do we explain Dragonness disappearing after these two people she presumably has no connection to, and how do we explain how she found them without giving away too much?”

I wave a hand impatiently. “We'll chalk it up to a mystery of the Prism Crystal and assure the public that we're looking into why the Crystal led me to these people. The public have been remarkably accepting of the idea that the Prism Crystal turned people into superheroes.”

“But why Alodia and Diego in particular? Why not any of the other thousands of missing persons in the US? Why would the Prism Crystal choose two people who went missing in California when it's on the East Coast?”

“You're overthinking this,” Jake says. “Look, my sister's a cop. People go missing every day, and most of them don't get half the attention Alodia and Diego have gotten. The only reason they're getting as much media attention as they are is because they were on the La Huerta trip, and the fact that Alodia's pregnant makes people more sympathetic. Once they're safe home, the media and the cops ain't gonna care too much about how they got there.”

“I can't say that I completely agree,” Poppy says. “I know I'm only a fashion journalist, but that doesn't mean I don't know how the media works. Alodia and Diego are still high-profile people, and there are high-profile people involved in their kidnapping. Dax is right. If this does work like we want it to, we do need to consider how we're going to spin it so that the attention doesn't go anywhere we don't want it to.”

“Let's not get too far ahead of the game,” Michelle cautions. “Dax is also right that Tahira needs a little time to recover before she's fit to go chasing anyone down.”

“Simple solution to that,” Jake declares. “If she gets a lead off the Prism Crystal, I'm going with her.”

I try not to grimace outwardly. I should have seen this coming. “Jake...you know I'll be faster on my own. Considering that I can fly without a plane.”

“Not while you've still got a hole in your gut. If this is gonna work, we don't have a lot of time for you to be on bed-rest here. We got a small window, and it's closing fast.”

Michelle nods. “Jake is right. Whether we find her or the authorities do, we really don't have time to just wait if we're going to take any action. She's due in a matter of weeks, and we can't assume she won't go into labor early. At the same time, Tahira, you can't just go on your own in your present condition. Apart from the stab wound, we don't know if that poison is fully out of your system. So, I'll come too.”

“Can the hospital spare you?”

“I've still technically got a week and change of vacation I haven't used, and I haven't officially put myself back on the schedule yet.”

“Well, you know I'm not letting you go without me,” Sean says firmly, taking his wife's hand. “I can't. Not just now.”

“I expected as much, and I won't argue.”

“I will go as well,” Varyyn declares. “Not least because my partner is among the missing, but also because if Alodia or I somehow managed to break through the barrier they've put on our psychic link, it would not do for me to be miles away.”

I sigh. This is kinda turning into a plan for the world's most batcrap-crazy road trip, but I honestly can't say that I mind. In fact, I feel a wry smile tugging at my mouth. “...Anyone else want to join in?”

“You know Kenji and I are at your disposal,” Eva says, winking. But I shake my head at that suggestion.

“No, not you two. Someone needs to stay to protect Northbridge. We can't just leave DA Katsaros completely high and dry and expect to stay on her good side, especially given the situation with Caleb and the kids.”

“I'll come instead,” Estela says. “In case you need another fighter.”

“I'm rather handy with a fencing sword,” Aleister offers a bit reluctantly. But his sister shakes her head.

“Stay with your wife and son. There will be enough lonely doves among the Catalysts as is, and you and Zahra need to look after the company and field any questions from the authorities.”

“Besides that, we should keep our numbers as small as possible,” I point out. “Even if I can't go on my own, we will go faster the fewer we are.”

“In the meantime, what should the rest of us be doing?” Raj asks. “I mean, I'm good to stay in California if that's where I'm most needed...”

“We'd appreciate that,” Jake agrees. “Keep looking after our folks for us. I'll see if I can send Rebecca back with our parents, but it's possible they won't be willing to leave me alone unless I bring her with me.”

“Well...I guess we're mostly settled then. We can work out the necessary details once I'm discharged.”

“That's assuming this really works...” Aleister says soberly. “We've begun speaking of it as a certainty...”

For a moment, no one says anything. I hear myself speak first. “We'll know that as soon as I'm discharged, too.”

Jake

I'm not surprised when my parents are reluctant to let me go to Northbridge without them. I'm an adult, they say, and they can't stop me, but they do their best to discourage it. I don't hold it against them. I've disappeared on them too many times for them not to be nervous, even after I promise to check in with them. As I predicted, it's Rebecca's promise to go with me and keep an eye on me that finally convinces them to go back to California and look after Alodia's parents. I vow to go back there myself if Tahira's idea with the Crystal doesn't pan out, though of course I don't say that to my parents. I need them to think my visit to Northbridge is open-ended.

The meager bags Mike and I packed for what we expected to be a night or two away from home were retrieved from the motel we were staying at the night before our abduction. By now, I've been discharged and Mike's finally in recovery after surgery, so I bring him his bag as an excuse to visit before I take off. I wouldn't normally think I needed an excuse to visit, but the hospital staff are still hovering like flies, and the pretense of dropping off the bag gets me access to his parents, who manage to finagle a few minutes for Mike and me to talk privately.

He turns his head toward me as I slip into the room and smiles wanly. He looks pale and exhausted, and he's still got an IV in the crook of his arm, but he's awake and propped up on his pillows. Still, the sheet below his thighs is flat over the mattress. I pull up a chair beside him.

“How're you feeling, kid?”

“...You know those old clothes press things that they used to feed clothes through after they were washed to get all the water out? In the olden days before washers and dryers?”

“I think I know what you mean. I think they were called 'mangles'.”

“Appropriate name. Anyway, I feel like I've gone through one of those.”

I cover his hand with mine and nod down at the flat sheet beneath his thighs. “No new legs yet?”

“Apparently they gotta let the nerves heal or something first. I dunno. They got some metal things on the stumps to keep 'em fresh or whatever. The science blinded me a little. All I really know is they hurt like a bitch.”

“Fuck.” I squeeze his hand. “Sure feels like a shit time for me to be taking off...”

“Where are you heading?”

“Northbridge. ...It's not looking like Alodia and Diego were on the island. But Tahira has an idea to track Alodia using the Prism Crystal. Hopefully it works, and hopefully where we find Alodia, we find Diego.”

“No question you gotta go, then. Not like you'd be doing much good bumming around the hospital with me.”

“Probably not. ...Don't know how much good I'll be doing following Tahira around, either. But if there's even a chance of finding her...”

“You don't have to explain. We both know where you're most needed right now.” He turns his hand over to grip mine, his eyes finding my gaze and holding it. “Find your wife. Bring her home.”

* * *

Rebecca, Varyyn, and I get a private flight to Northbridge, compliments of Aleister and Estela, of course. I'm glad not to be in the pilot's chair on this one. I'm probably still not totally clear to operate heavy machinery after that blow to the head, and I'm not sure I could concentrate, even if I were. Problem is that I can't really sit still, either. I know I shouldn't be wandering more than necessary while the plane's in the air, but I feel like I'm gonna lose my shit if I try to stay seated too long. Predictably, Varyyn is perfectly still—almost stoic. Though I know him better than to assume he's not just as much of a hot mess as I am right now.

“...How're you holding up, Varyyn?” I ask, as much to distract myself as to check in.

“As well as you, I expect,” he sighs. “...I am afraid. I am afraid this will not work. I am afraid of what they might be suffering right now. ...I am afraid that if this does work, we will find Alodia alone and have nothing left to lead us to Diego.”

I grit my teeth, shaking my head hard. “Won't be like that, Varyyn. Don't think like that. They're together. They gotta be together.”

“...We don't know that,” he says softly. “We hope it. But do we really have any evidence that it is true?”

“Why else would they have taken Diego?” I demand. “They weren't together at the time of the abduction, so it wasn't just convenience like with Sean and Michelle. No offense to Diego, but I don't think Rourke really has much use for him in this timeline. He probably doesn't have much use for any of the Catalysts besides Alodia anymore, except to control her. And maybe Diego is useful if he wanted to bait you for some reason, but even then, wouldn't it still make more sense to keep them together, since you could track her if they hadn't blocked it somehow...”

“...It all makes sense...” he admits. “...I just...I can't help but fear...”

I sigh, rubbing my hands over my face. “Of course not. I won't lie, it scares me, too. ...But it makes more sense that they're together. Remember that.”

He nods. “...I feel powerless. I should be able to reach them. I should at least be able to speak to her and confirm that they are unharmed...”

“We all feel powerless here,” Rebecca says. “I'm a detective. I should be able to track and investigate. But because it's a member of my own family, I'm not allowed to help...” She trails off, and the silence that follows is heavy. I think we all want to try and say something comforting or optimistic here, but there's not really anything to say that we haven't already said. We all feel powerless. There's a chance that when we get to Northbridge, we'll have our path made clear for us, but there aren't any guarantees. If this doesn't work...what next?

Grayson

“Are you sure you're up for this, Tahira? You only got out of the hospital yesterday...”

Tahira grits her teeth as she carefully makes her way to her dresser, using crutches to support most of her weight and to keep her stitches from tearing. She's healing fast. Fast enough that eyebrows were raised at the hospital. But not fast enough to have her in fighting shape yet, and she's clearly still in pain. Michelle has cautioned her against heavy lifting, even with her super strength. The only way we were able to confirm that her strength was still intact was by having her bend an iron bar that Dax brought over from the lab. Flying, too, is out right now, though she is still capable of it.

“If this works,” Michelle said last night, “You're basically going to be our tracker, at least for a few days. Let the rest of us do most of the work until I give you the all-clear.”

I cautiously place my hand between her shoulderblades and let my palm move in slow, gentle circles. When she doesn't pull away, I increase the pressure just a little.

“When a person goes missing, the first twenty-four hours are the most crucial,” she says lowly. “...That window has already closed. There's no more time to waste. What we have is already borrowed.”

She pulls out a T-shirt and a pair of jeans from her drawer, and maneuvers herself to take off her pajama top. I sigh.

“Here, let me help you with that. I can't really help with the rescue mission, but I can help you get dressed for it.”

“I think providing us with travel vehicles is extremely helpful,” she says, smiling a little as she carefully raises her arms over her head to let me take her shirt off. I help her on with her clothes, finishing just as the buzzer to her apartment door sounds.

“Tahira? It's Eva and Kenji!” I go to let them in as Tahira settles herself down on the couch. Kenji grins at her as they walk in.

“How's our fearless leader doing? You look like you'll be ready to kick ass again in no time.”

“With any luck, I will at least be ready to do my part when we finally track down Alodia and Diego. Do you have the Crystal, Eva?”

“Haven't let it outta my sight since Caleb tipped us off it they were going after it,” she replies with a mischievous smile, trailing a finger over the chain around her neck. My eyes follow her finger down to where her low-cut top clearly reveals that the pendant on the end is nestled between her breasts. Tahira makes a face as Eva draws the Prism Crystal out of her cleavage.

“That cannot be comfortable...”

Eva shrugs. “You get used to it. Besides....” She grins, waggling her eyebrows. “No way anyone gets to it without me noticing.”

“Yeah, but have you been, like, showering with it in there? Sleeping?”

“Not like water will hurt it. And like I said, you get used to it.”

Tahira rolls her eyes, smirking a little. “Still...maybe I should ask you to wipe off the boob sweat before I try to do anything with it.”

“Tahira, I'm insulted. The very suggestion that I would ever break a sweat...” But she does grab a washcloth out of the basket of clean laundry beside the dresser and rub it over the crystal before handing it to Tahira. “So...what are you going to do with it exactly?”

“I'll start with holding it. Then...I guess I'll think about Alodia...” She shakes her head with a frustrated sigh. “...I'm flying mostly blind here...”

As she closes her hand around the Crystal, we fall silent, not wanting to risk disrupting her concentration. How long will it take, I wonder, before we know if anything is going to happen? I don't have to wonder long. In fact, the thought is barely out of my head before the crystal begins to glow brighter. I hold my breath. For a moment, everything is still except for the bright purple flame dancing beneath the Crystal's surface. Then Tahira's eyes fly open and she gasps softly. I instinctively rush to her side.

“Are you all right? What happened?”

“I'm okay...” she replies dazedly. “...I...think...”

“Did you see anything?” Eva asks. “Do you know where Alodia is?”

“Not exactly, but...” She looks down at the Crystal balanced on her palm, softly pulsing with fuschia light. “I did see her. In flashes. And...I think...”

She stands up and turns a slow circle, keeping her eye on the Crystal. I watch it carefully. It takes a few more circles before I realize what's actually happening, but when I do notice, I feel my heart skip a beat.

“Tahira! The light!”

“Yes!” Tahira cries eagerly, a grin splitting her face! “It dims, except when I start facing this direction! ...What direction am I facing?”

“Northwest-ish,” Kenji says. “Which probably means she isn't on the island...”

Tahira nods. “...If she's even what the Crystal is pointing toward. ...Either way, it's our best lead so far.

* * *

A few more little experiments prove that using the Crystal as a tracking device is a viable option. Although it goes dull when I touch it, Kenji and Eva can both make it react—as can Varyyn and any Catalysts who come in contact with it. And the pulsing light consistently gleams when the one holding it is facing northwest, dimming as they turn south. As soon as is humanly possible, Tahira and her team gather with me and a handful of the Catalysts in the empty executive level of the Prescott Industries parking garage. Two seven-seater SUVs that I rented are the only two vehicles in the place.

“They're both fueled up,” I assure Tahira. “Tire pressure has been checked and there are spares, jacks, and tire irons under the floors.”

“There are also pillows and blankets so you can sleep and drive in shifts and not have to stop as often,” Dax says. “I've also fitted the cars with adaptable communicators so you can communicate through the radios, just in case everyone's cell phones die at the same time. Do you know who's going to be in what car?”

“I'll be with Sean, Tahira, and Jake,” Michelle says. “Since Tahira and Jake aren't cleared to drive just yet, Sean will take the first shift, and Tahira will hold the Crystal to navigate.”

“And Varyyn, Rebecca, and I will follow in the vehicle behind,” Estela adds.

Michelle nods. “I've also got a medical tote stocked. No one mess with that, please. It's not your standard first aid kit. I've also got some sterile towels and blankets double-wrapped in plastic, so hands off those, too. If we find Alodia close to giving birth, we'll need clean towels to lay down for her and something to wrap the baby in.”

“There are also coolers of water, fruit, sandwiches, and about twenty pounds of trail mix,” Quinn adds. “It's not Raj's cooking, and it obviously won't last, but it should mean you don't have to stop for food for a handful of days.”

“I guess we're all set then,” Tahira says. “There's no time to lose. Everyone pile in.”

“Wait...” I catch her hand as she turns toward the car, and pull her in for a kiss, holding her mouth with mine as if I can store up enough of her taste on my lips to tide me over until she gets back. I break away reluctantly and press my forehead to hers. “Good luck. I love you.”

Eva

Kenji and I meet at his apartment that evening. We don't exactly feel safe going back to the clocktower right now, but we don't have a new base of operations yet, either.

“...How much does Caleb actually know now?” I ask him over a cup of heavily-sugared coffee.

“Almost everything. He knows our powers are connected to our DNA, which is connected to the island of La Huerta and a crystal alien that crash-landed here however many billion years ago. He knows that Alodia is that alien's daughter and that Tahira is Alodia's cousin. ...I also basically confirmed that most of what Rourke told him in those interviews is true.”

“And...where is he now?”

Kenji shrugs, talking a long swallow from his coffee mug. “Processing, I guess. He says he can't go back to Gigi anymore. And based on the way their last encounter went, I'm not surprised.”

“And you don't have any reason to think it might be a trick?”

“Just doesn't add up to a trick,” he admits. “He told me he'd originally told Gigi he was going to try to get in good with us to get information out of us, which I know was true. ...But if he was never actually going to turn on her, he probably would have done something to keep us from securing the Prism Crystal once he realized we knew she was going after it. Plus, she was angry enough to try and frame him for burning down the priest's house.”

“...He's out of the hospital, by the way. Don't know where he's living with his house burned out, though.”

“No sign of the kids, either. ...Maybe he's gone after them.”

“Quite honestly, I hope he has. Scoundrel he may be, but I think his intentions towards the kids are good. At least good enough that I'd rather they have him in their corner than be wandering around out there alone. Especially given what's going on now.”

Kenji smiles wryly. “They will have to come back eventually, won't they? Since you still have their dog.”

I snort. “Good luck making me give up that puppy. I think we've bonded.”

“You'll give her up the moment one of those sweet little kids flashes sad doe eyes at you.”

“...Yeah, probably,” I admit. “My cold heart has been defrosting lately. Maybe proof that there's hope for Caleb.”

“There had better be. ...Because if we can't actually trust him, we might be screwed.”

Estela

I am in the office with Aleister and Zahra when the phone on the desk rings. It just barely registers at first, like an acquaintance I give a nod to as I pass on the street. Aleister picks it up.

“Aleister Rourke speaking,” he mutters absently. Then his posture changes. I take notice as he sits up a little straighter. “Raj, hello. Has there been any news.”

My heart wedges in my throat as I sit up to attention. Zahra visibly stiffens as well, her eyebrows knitting as she meets my gaze with anxiety flickering in her dark eyes. Aleister's eyes widen.

“What? Are they sure it's the same one?...” His shoulders sag slightly as he listens to Raj's extended reply. “...Dammit. Does Jake know? ...What are they planning to do?”

There's a longer pause now. Aleister's expression is difficult to read. Zahra stands up from her desk, then awkwardly hovers there as if she's not sure she should come closer.

“...I expect that is the wisest course of action. If the Crystal can track Alodia directly, it would be a waste of time to chase down a lead like that. ...I see. ...Of course. I'll make sure everyone is updated. Thank you. ...I will. ...Goodbye.” He replaces the receiver on the cradle and looks up at me and Zahra in turn. “...That was Raj. The police believe they have found the stolen ambulance that Alodia and Diego were transported in, but it has since been abandoned. They were able to determine that a helicopter took off nearby and they believe Alodia and Diego were on board, but from there, they're having difficulty picking up the trail.”

Zahra and I exchange anxious glances. “...Where was the ambulance found?”

“Cascade mountain range in Oregon. Near Crater Lake.”

“Oregon!” Zahra gasps. “They drove a stolen ambulance from southern California to the Cascade mountains in Oregon and no one noticed until now?!”

“Raj tells me the region around Crater Lake is fairly remote.”

“Maybe, but...” Zahra is already tapping furiously on her phone. After a moment, she turns the screen toward us. “Look, the fastest path to Crater Lake from Riverside is about a twelve-hour drive, straight up through California.”

“They were driving an ambulance,” I point out. “If they had the lights and sirens going, they would have been able to speed and run red lights with impunity. Few people are going to want to impede an ambulance that they think is on the way to save someone's life. Even with the authorities knowing they were likely in a stolen ambulance, I can believe they got as far as Oregon without anyone wanting to risk stopping them. Especially if they swapped the license plate.”

“They still would have needed to stop for gas at some point. And twelve hours trapped in a vehicle can't be good for a pregnant woman. We're still operating under the assumption that Rourke wants Alodia and her baby alive, right?”

“It makes the most sense,” Aleister confirms. “If he just wanted her dead, there are easier ways than kidnapping.”

“What else do we actually know? They found the stolen ambulance, but are they sure Alodia and Diego were inside?”

“They found more than a few hairs inside the vehicle. They matched DNA samples from both Alodia and Diego.”

I nod. “...From what I overheard, I'm guessing Jake and the others aren't going to try to find them in Oregon.”

He shakes his head. “It would be a waste of time, driving some place they have already been removed from when they believe the Prism Crystal can lead them to where Alodia is currently.”

“Why Oregon, though? Why not the island? Why was the Crystal leading them northwest instead of toward the island?”

“...I don't know, Estela. The truth is that we don't know for sure that they don't mean for her to eventually wind up on the island. Maybe the plan is to throw us off the trail.”

I sit back with a frustrated sigh. “...It always feels like our dear father is ten steps ahead of us. The only person who has ever really managed to get the better of him was Alodia when she chose to sacrifice herself for the world.”

“Not entirely true,” Zahra mutters. “...I shot him in at least one timeline.”

“He is a genius and a master manipulator, but he is still human,” Aleister says firmly. “And humans are flawed enough to be outsmarted. Sooner or later, he will make a mistake. I am sure of it.”

Alodia

Something doesn't feel right here. I'm in Elyys'tel. The armor of Andromeda encases my body and gleams gold in the Caribbean sunset. Beneath it, I am wearing my Vaanti warrior's attire. In my hands, I clutch the mask I won in the Valinorim. One hand drifts towards my chest, and my fingers brush the cold metal dogtags that hang on a ball-chain around my neck. My chest is tight, and my head throbs with grief, but I don't cry. I can't cry.

“This isn't going to help, Alodia,” Aleister says solemnly from behind me.

“...They're all dead, Aleister,” I hear myself reply coldly. “He killed them all. Maybe not directly, but he's responsible for all of their deaths.”

“I don't disagree. But killing him won't bring them back.”

I turn to face him, fully prepared to chew him out for his platitudes when he should want his father dead as much as I do. But then I realize what is actually happening.

“...You're going to say that if I insist on joining the battle, you're going to come with me.”

“Of course I am. We're the last Catalysts left. I'm not going to abandon you.”

“...No. You're not. You didn't even betray us this time. You played your father as a double agent. ...When Zahra blew up the MASADA complex, Jake tried to save me. But he was killed in the process and you got me out instead.”

Aleister doesn't seem put off by my explaining what must be recent history to him. “I'm going to die in the coming battle. I have learned that you're the one my father needs to complete his Janus Project. I don't know why yet, but I know that much. I die to keep you from falling into his hands.”

“...And then I bury the last of my family. And I die...and the timeline resets because I can't let it end like this...I can't let any of you die...”

Aleister reaches out to place a hand on my shoulder. “You can't change what's already happened, Alodia.”

“...I don't want to watch it happen again...”

“You don't have to. You know that.” His eyes flick downward. “Don't waste your time on a battle that's already been fought when you have a much more important one to worry about in the here and now.”

I follow his gaze downward, and dark static floods my vision.

The soft flutter of tiny limbs inside me brings me back to consciousness. The pressure on my bladder is unbearable. I push back the itchy blanket that barely keeps out the cold and struggle off the cheap cot I fell asleep on. The thin plastic mattress creaks as I get to my feet, and I hear a gasp and small movement from the cot beside me.

“Allie...?” Diego's voice is anxious, but still clumsy with sleep.

“I'm okay,” I call back. “I just need to pee.”

I make my way to the corner. We've been moved again. There's no en suite toilet in this concrete basement we've been stuck in this time. Only a plastic toddler toilet—the kind Jake and I will be buying in another year or two. ...That is...if I ever see him again... If we ever get to go back to our home in California and lay our daughter in her crib in her jungle-themed nursery...

Lowering myself onto the seat is an arduous and undignified process. I feel tears on my cheeks by the time I manage to relieve myself, and my hand trembles as I wipe with a cheap, rough paper towel—the only thing we've been provided with. By the time I have gotten through the equally undignified process of standing back up and dragging my gray sweatpants back up over my bulging waistline, I am sobbing. I only get a few steps closer to my cot before Diego takes me in his arms and gently draws me against him. I bury my face in his shoulder. When he leans his head against mine, I feel the subtle prickle of facial hair where his cheek briefly brushes my ear.

He doesn't say anything. Our supply of comforting words has all but dried up. Escape seems impossible with me as I am, especially when we don't have any idea how many of them are actually guarding us or how far we are from civilization. We've all but admitted aloud that rescue is our only hope.

I don't want to obey them. I want to defy them. I want to fight them tooth and nail. But I can't fight them while I am sheltering a child within me. And disobedience only gets Diego hurt. So far, the damage has not been permanent. But I don't know if I can keep him safe indefinitely, even if I kill any will to fight that might be left in me.

It's only a matter of time. If help doesn't come for us, it's only a matter of time before they break me.

Diego

I wish I had access to a razor. Or some scissors. The scissors more than the razor, I think. I don't really mind the growth of hair over my face as much as the hair on my head, which is shaggy enough now to get into my eyes, but not long enough to hook behind my ears. It's funny the things I think about when I'm trying not to break apart.

I'm scared. I'm really scared. I'm scared for Allie. I'm scared for her baby. I'm scared for myself. I'm scared of the fact that I can't rely on Allie right now like I almost always could before. It's not her fault, of course. She just needs me to be the brave one right now, and that terrifies me. But damned if I'm not going to do it. Damned if I'm not going to swallow my fear and hold her hand to get her through this nightmare. Damned if I'm not going to look for an opportunity to escape at every new prison they move us to. I know our best option is probably going to be to wait for someone to find us. But I have to keep watching. It helps me keep it together.

We're bound and blindfolded every time they move us. Sometimes we travel by chopper, sometimes by car or van or whatever they're driving. Maybe an ambulance again. We're not long in the concrete basement prison, which I appreciate, because it's really freaking uncomfortable. It's some kind of van that moves us this time. At least we're actually seated and buckled in this time, even if our hands end up tied to what I think must be the handles of the hooks a lot of cars have on the ceiling for hanging up dress clothes.

“Hey, Allie...” I say lightly, turning my head vaguely toward the weight on the seat beside me. “Is there a name for these things we're tied up to?”

I don't know if there's a partition between us and the drivers. I don't know if they can hear us. I am guessing there aren't any windows to either side of us since two people blindfolded in the back seat with their hands tied to the ceiling would probably be conspicuous. But if the driver can hear us, I don't want them to hear us scared.

“I...I don't know,” she replies. Her voice shakes a little, but she's trying to sound nonchalant, so it seems she's picked up what I'm putting down here. “Dress hooks, I guess? Handles? Before cars had seatbelts, some of them had handles for passengers to hold onto, but I don't think there was any special name for them.”

“Where do you think we're going this time? Another nice farmhouse?”

“I hope so. The farmhouse has definitely been my favorite on this vacation. The last place was shit, though.”

“Total shit,” I agree.

We let our conversation be sparse after that, and when we do speak, it's about silly memories from our childhood. We try to remember the rules to a game our first grade P.E. teacher had taught to the class that was like a slightly more complicated version of group tag, except it involved us all playing characters from Star Wars. We try to name all the seasons of Power Rangers that we grew up with. We try to recite the poems we had to memorize for our last literature class in high school.

Allie is nearly through Rudyard Kipling when the van stops and the engine turns off. Although my adrenaline spikes, I can't help but feel a little relieved, too. My hands are starting to go numb. I'm cut loose and I flex my fingers a few times, hissing softly as the feeling floods back into them. I don't resist as they hustle me out of the van and into whatever prison awaits us now. The air outside is bitingly cold, and the ground beneath my feet is hard. The sound my shoes make slapping against it makes me think pavement. Then, the cold air is replaced by surprisingly pleasant warmth. Central heating. A good sign. A less good sign is the way the soles of my shoes are squeaking and sticking against the floor now. I'm thinking this is tile I'm walking on.

We are finally allowed to stop, and my blindfold is removed. The florescent light might as well be sunlight for a moment, but when my eyes start to adjust, a deep, cold dread settles in the pit of my stomach.

The windowless room we're in resembles a doctor's office, with an exam table, cabinets, a sink, and medical instruments hanging from the wall. There are no decorations, though. Nothing to make it welcoming. Which makes the woman standing beside the exam table in full surgical gear—including goggles—all the more ominous. I can't really see anything about what she looks like. I mean, I can tell she's white, and her eyes look brown behind the goggles, but the blue surgical cap isn't giving me a good look at her hair color, and average height aside, I can't tell anything about her build under the shapeless surgical gown.

I don't like where this is going one bit. Neither does Allie judging by her sharp gasp as she takes in the scene. I press close to her, putting my arms protectively around her.

“What is this?!” I demand. “What are you doing?! Who is she?!”

The strange woman spreads her hands, taking a cautious step toward us. “Calm down, Alodia. I am not here to hurt you. I only want to give you a proper exam.”

Allie grips my arm. “Bullshit,” she hisses.

“Watch it, brat!” Fiddler snaps. “Unless you want your friend to suffer for your rudeness.”

“Stay your hand, Jeanine,” the surgeon-woman says mildly. “Just this once, let's try to work with Alodia instead of against her. I am sure she can be made to see reason here without resorting to violence against Diego.”

I can't figure out what it is, but there is something about her voice. My anxiety is ebbing away as I rack my brain trying to place it, but I'm still alert enough to keep my arms firmly around Allie, who glares at the woman.

“Don't touch me!” she snarls.

“I will not touch you if you don't want me to,” the woman promises. “But it would be in your best interests and your baby's best interests to let me give you an examination. Why don't we make a deal, hmm? Jeanine and her soldiers wait outside. Diego can stay in here with you. And you and I can figure out from there how close you want me to get. Sound good?”

“Hardly!” Fiddler scoffs before Allie can answer. “Leave these two alone in here with you? With no one to make sure they don't stab you with your own scalpel?”

“I don't have a scalpel in here, Jeanine,” the woman replies, sounding amused. “And killing me would hardly do them any good with you and your troops standing outside the only exit. Lock the door if it makes you feel better. I will knock when we're finished. ...What do you say to that, Alodia?”

Allie hesitates, looking uncertainly at me. I shrug helplessly. This is crazy. This is totally crazy. Somehow, Rourke has hired an evil obstetrician who is apparently totally okay with the fact that Fiddler and her goons have kidnapped a pregnant woman, but still wants to act like a not-evil doctor by respecting patient boundaries? I can't even comprehend the level of insane that is happening in front of me right now, and I once fought an actual three-headed sea monster. But what kind of choice do we actually have here? This weird woman's offer certainly sounds preferable to any possible alternative. Allie seems to agree, because she slowly nods.

“Excellent. It's decided then. Jeanine, if you would be so kind as to clear out and give the patient a little privacy?”

Fiddler looks like she's going to argue at first, but then she purses her lips, turns on her heel, and stalks out with her goons following behind her. The woman goes to shoo them out, and that's when I see it: a barely detectable green shimmer at the edge of her mask.

Before I can quite process what I've just seen, I hear the door lock from the outside, and the woman turns back to us.

“All right. Now that we have a little privacy...”

The woman touches the stud sparkling in her earlobe, and her white skin dissolves into green as her holographic disguise melts away. She pulls off her surgical cap, revealing her hair underneath—half-lavender and half-bubblegum pink—swept back into a french braid. Now I know why her voice sounded so familiar.

“...Clockmaker...?!”

8 notes · View notes

jessejostark · 5 years ago

Text

10 Questions w/ Jesse Jo Stark About Cool Parents, the Awesomeness of Cher + Still Believing in Rock & Roll

Other than maybe Sean Lennon and Jakob Dylan, Jesse Jo Stark grew up with surely the most inspirational people a future musician could possibly hope for. Indeed, her parents Richard Stark and Laurie Lynn Stark are the founders of rock & roll jewelry studio-turned-empire Chrome Hearts—whose clientele includes the likes of Bono, Elton John and Slash. And her Godmother is none other than the goddess of stage, screen and song Cher, who has been a continuing influence on her very talented niece.

Not just that, but she was sort of mentored from the start of her music career by Sex Pistol Steve Jones, who hosts the now legendary radio show Jonesy’s Jukebox in Los Angeles, where Jesse Jo also resides. And most recently, she appeared in the video for Brit punker YUNGBLUD’s new single “Strawberry Lipstick,” while corona had stranded him in LA.

But for all they may have rubbed off on her, the young Ms. Stark makes music that surely comes from somewhere deep within herself. Each song seems a little piece of her that she allows out into the world, revealing the inner intensity and intimacy that belie a very public persona.

Her previous single, a cover of John Prine’s “Angel From Montgomery,” was a languid, fuzzed-out country gem of a ballad. But new track “Tangerine” is a mini-masterpiece of sorts, exhibiting her ease with crossing genres and weaving them seamlessly together. The twangy guitars are back, but there’s a little Beatles, a little widescreen Britpop, and just a hint of retro Cali dreaming as well. With its lush strings, and Stark’s haunted voice so full of longing, it vividly evokes so many life memories of love’s powerful pull.

For the video, she reached out to fans to create their own vision for the visual accompaniment to the song, and they were then edited together—a way of crossing the quarantine divide via the power of art. She describes it thusly:

“What I’ve missed most in this new way of livin’ has been the live shows and hanging out with everyone every night. So along with the ‘Tangerine’ track release, we thought it would be super sweet to get everyone involved in the video, so it’s almost like we’re all having this one big party together, no matter where we are in the world, physically we are together in heart. i’ve been at home watching everyone’s videos in full tears with the biggest smile wrapped around my face. everyone’s creativity and love for this song has been overwhelming. It makes my heart beat knowing that they can take away a little piece of ‘Tangerine’ and make it their own. it’s fucking beautiful. it’s art.”

We hit Jesse Jo with ten questions about all of the above, and as it turned out, even her answers were uniquely stylish.

youtube

Your influences are distinctly 1960s + ’70s. Do you feel a bit out of place in the current musical zeitgeist of hip-hop preeminence and so much over-glossed pop? my influences are not only 60’s and 70’s

and the thing about the current state of music right now is that there is nothing out of place. hip hop artists pull samples from old soul, country, and r&b records and it’s all turning into a place you can do anything you want. the only thing that pisses me off is when people chase chart positions by making the same shit over and over.

there is a difference between being out of place and making a place for yourself. so to answer. no i do not feel out of place. i feel like i’m right where i should be

What was some of the music you grew up listening to? my dad was always my go-to with music. he always played the clash, merle, john lennon, brian eno, david bowie on the way to school. with the occasional britney n christina.

i remember this one time,i think i was about 7 years old, he picked me up at my friend sasha’s house and i was throwing a fit because i didn’t want to leave. as we pulled out of the drive way he turned on “should i stay or should i go” by the clash. i had never heard it before. he looked at me and smiled and i felt my bad mood melt away. i remember thinking, as i tried my best to keep scowling at him, “i wanna make something this cool” . n i’m still tryin

What was it like growing up with rocker parents? Did that imprint on your personal aesthetic? are they rocker !? i mean i know they are pretty damn cool. everything about them has left a huge beautiful mark all over me. they are my favorite legends and they inspire me completely and truly .

On “Tangerine,” one can detect references to the The Beatles, Oasis, Patsy Cline, Mazzy Star…what has been your musical state of mind of late? what a major line up i wanna go to that show.

my musical state of mind has been to make more.

Image by Laurie Lynn Stark

Your music is very raw and seemingly unfussed over. Does inspiration find you in a mostly spontaneous fashion? oh it’s fussed . i am fussy . music for me is never just one thing. sometimes a song comes easy like it was layin on my night stand when i woke up. other times i feel like i have to cut my body open, drown in my tears and claw at the floor just to get one word out. inspiration is endless when you show up for it.

How did you come to work with YUNGBLUD? he called me n asked for me to be in his video . he said there’d be lips n latex. and so…

Cher is your godmother – has she been a mentor and influence? in every single way. i am in awe of her.

As opposed to those with batteries of stylists, you seem to really own your sense of style. Who are your fashion inspirations? my brother n sister, the cramps, cher, audrey hepburn, hands, animal print, love n london. i want to dress up like my favorite singers voices.

just like in every medium, i have people i’ve worked with forever. they’re my family. we understand each other. challenge each other and force each other to be brutally honest in the things we make.

i also love fresh eyes and ears and people that find new ways to look at the same things.

Is a full Jesse Jo Stark album on the horizon? it is n soon

Rock & roll as we know it seems to be on life support. What do you think is left for it? only if you aren’t lookin. there are so many insane bands in the world. some of my favorite bands now are kids my age. it isn’t dead. you just gotta find it.

#jesse jo stark #blackbook media #interview #2020

2 notes · View notes

wallflower-bunbun · 5 years ago

Text

Answers to some unusual asks

Spotify, SoundCloud, or Pandora? I don’t use any of these.

is your room messy or clean? Pretty clean (mostly because of my mom though lol)

what color are your eyes? Brown

do you like your name? why? Yes, I do. It’s unique and It sounds nice

what is your relationship status? Taken

describe your personality in 3 words or less. Kind

what color hair do you have? Dark Brown

what kind of car do you drive? color? I don’t drive.. lol

where do you shop? The dollar store lmao

how would you describe your style? Lazy/comfortable

favorite social media account? Tumblr

what size bed do you have? Single

any siblings? An adopted sister,

if you can live anywhere in the world where would it be? why? Probably, where I live now, which is in Canada. I really like it here.

favorite snapchat filter? I don;t usually use snapchat but anything with freckles.

favorite makeup brand(s) Don’t have any

how many times a week do you shower? about 4 or 5

favorite tv show? Criminal Minds

shoe size? 12

how tall are you? 5′8

sandals or sneakers? Sneakers

do you go to the gym? Nope

describe your dream date. A picnic at the park while watching the sunset.

how much money do you have in your wallet at the moment? none lmao

what color socks are you wearing? black

how many pillows do you sleep with? 3

do you have a job? what do you do? No i don’t

how many friends do you have? probably around 15

whats the worst thing you have ever done? I have no idea

whats your favorite candle scent? buttercup

3 favorite boy names? Sean, Mitch, and Jack

3 favorite girl names? Dawn, Sky, and Evelyn

favorite actor? Ryan Reynolds

favorite actress? Don’t have one

who is your celebrity crush? Don’t have one

favorite movie? Hot Fuzz

do you read a lot? whats your favorite book? I don’t read at all really

money or brains? Brains

do you have a nickname? what is it? Sky

how many times have you been to the hospital? for myself, once, to see others, I can’t count.

top 10 favorite songs. 21, Guns For Hands, Flares, pajamas, The Kids Aren’t Alright, Twin Skeleton’s, Are You Bored Yet?, Half a Man, Electric Love, and You should be sad.

do you take any medications daily? Yes, i do

what is your skin type? (oily, dry, etc) Smooth?

what is your biggest fear? The ocean

how many kids do you want? 1

whats your go to hair style? my everyday hairstyle (look at my pfp)

what type of house do you live in? (big, small, etc) Medium sized.

who is your role model? My dad

what was the last compliment you received? My bf called me beautiful

what was the last text you sent? “I love you”

how old were you when you found out santa wasn’t real? about 9

what is your dream car? Any kind of convertible.

opinion on smoking? Unhealthy and unnecessary.

do you go to college? No, not yet.

what is your dream job? Vet Tech

would you rather live in rural areas or the suburbs? Rural

do you take shampoo and conditioner bottles from hotels? I’ve never been to a hotel.

do you have freckles? No

do you smile for pictures? Yes

how many pictures do you have on your phone? Probably over 2,000

have you ever peed in the woods? No

do you still watch cartoons? Yes

do you prefer chicken nuggets from Wendy’s or McDonalds? I’ve never had then from Wendy’s, so McDonalds lol

Favorite dipping sauce? bbq

what do you wear to bed? Pjs

have you ever won a spelling bee? No

what are your hobbies? Drawing and playing video games

can you draw? I think so, yeah

do you play an instrument? I’ve played drums before

what was the last concert you saw? Never been to a real one

tea or coffee? coffee

Starbucks or Dunkin Donuts? I’ve never had either

do you want to get married? Yes

what is your crush’s first and last initial? I don’t really have a crush, unless you count my bf, which would be L.H

are you going to change your last name when you get married? Yesss

what color looks best on you? Black

do you miss anyone right now? Yes, my bf

do you sleep with your door open or closed? closed

do you believe in ghosts? yeah

what is your biggest pet peeve? coffee that costs more than $2

last person you called? My dad

favorite ice cream flavor? Strawberry

regular oreos or golden oreos? Regular

chocolate or rainbow sprinkles? rainbow

what shirt are you wearing? A dark green tank top

what is your phone background? Something

are you outgoing or shy? shy

do you like it when people play with your hair? yes

do you like your neighbors? kind of

do you wash your face? at night? in the morning? In the morning I do

have you ever been high? No

have you ever been drunk? Kind of

last thing you ate? Chips

favorite lyrics right now? “sometimes to stay alive you’ve got to kill your mind.”

summer or winter? winter

day or night? night

dark, milk, or white chocolate? milk chocolate

favorite month? June

what is your zodiac sign? Taurus

who was the last person you cried in front of? My bf

I’m going to start answering random asks just because I get really bored and no one sends me asks themselves sooo yeah! :D

Btw, I got this from @/luxet

1 note · View note

randomlifeunit · 6 years ago

Text

“Paralyzed”

Rating: Teen and up

Warnings: Hospitalization, brief flashbacks

Part: 4/?

Read in Ao3: click here

The sound of soft, steady beeping was the first thing to register as Sean began to regain consciousness. He heard his name being called, but it seemed so far away; it must be someone else the voice called for. Not him. A floating sensation permeated the fuzz in his brain.

The calling started to get louder, and he realized they were indeed calling for him. He wasn’t sure he wanted to respond. It felt nice to be in this sensation of weightlessness.

“Sean? Sean,” a familiar voice coaxed. He groaned as it tugged him closer to the beeping sound.

Bright lights hit him as he slowly opened one eye. Where was he?

He struggled to roll over and sit up, but didn’t get very far. Everything hurt.

“Sean!” the voice said in relief. His dad was here? How did his dad get here?

“Where am I?” he croaked in a near-whisper, his throat feeling sore and raspy.

“You’re in the hospital,” Dennis Reynolds explained gently, his voice a mixture of concern and relief. He held a straw to Sean’s lips, and Sean drank automatically. The cold water felt good as it slid down his throat.

“What happened?” Sean asked, looking at his dad, and still feeling very disoriented. Although, at least his voice seemed to be working better.

Dennis hesitated for a moment, his dark brows furrowing in thought. “You’ve been…hurt,” he finally answered, carefully. “They’ve given you some pain medication, so you might be feeling a little woozy right now.”

Sean laid his head back on the pillow as memories began to wash over him. The twisted smile in the darkness. The scent of the stale air. The flash of the knife. And the pain, some of which he still felt even now. He closed his eyes and covered his face, feeling like he had been punched in the gut. The regular beeps sounding from a machine nearby began to speed up, faster…and faster.

Suddenly, he felt strong arms holding him gently. “I’ve got you,” Dennis said softly. “You’re safe now. They caught your attacker. He’s behind bars.”

Sean felt a small measure of comfort at the words, but a larger portion of him could not possibly feel safe with these thoughts in his mind.

Dennis leaned back slightly to look at Sean’s face. “Son, you don’t have to tell me if you’re not ready, but I—I just—want to know. What happened?”

Sean shuddered slightly. He tried to make sense of the images in his brain, trying to think of where to start.

“I’d just finished my last class at school, and was on my bike, headed to work.” Suddenly his mind scrambled. “Wait…work! What day is it? And my bike! You got me that for my birthday! Oh no!” He closed his eyes, feeling overwhelmed by shame.

“It’s okay! Don’t worry,” his dad hurried to reassure him, taking his hand. “Today is Thursday; you disappeared sometime yesterday afternoon.” Sean tried to digest this information while his dad continued. “When you didn’t show up for work, your boss called me. She was worried; you’ve never missed a day without calling before. And the police found your bike when they were out looking for you.” Dennis’s eyes looked suspiciously moist.

Sean felt the sudden weight of guilt for the fright he must have caused. “I’m sorry, dad,” he said softly, looking at his hands.

“What do you have to be sorry for?” his father answered, squeezing his hand.

“For…for…worrying you.” Sean’s voice cracked.

Dennis grabbed him and held on tightly, his own voice breaking. “I’m just glad I’ve got you back.”

@whumptober2019

“Paralyzed” Master List

14 notes · View notes

poetryaccident · 6 years ago

Text

Poem - Craving’s Bliss

Craving’s Bliss

Floating gentle on the wave only felt within the brain hidden from the sight of those wondering why the need exists

a delightful fuzz that consumes agitation of the mood always there beyond the veil responsibility that must prevail

damning all to turn the wheels creating thirsts of the soul asking lubrication to extend to the balm of troubled woes

a comfortable numb with regard for the depths of agony escaped at last in the waves dependence spun from craving’s needs.

The poem “Craving’s Bliss” is about the surface of self-medication.

#poem #addiction #self-medication #craving #poetry #spilled ink #sean green #poetry accident

18 notes · View notes

asksean-theretiredgod · 6 months ago

Text

(Meanwhile... There's a DS on Sean's desk and it makes a sudden noise as if it were being used)

What the hell..? Who could be using my DS?

(Sean goes and checks the room, looking at the DS before picking it up and looks closely at the screen)

HELLO!!!

AAAHHHH!!

(Sean jumps and drops the DS on the bed, he's quite glad that the DS didn't fall on the ground though, he does pick it back up and looks at the creature that just popped in out of nowhere)

Goodness... You scared me, fuzz!

Sorry about that buddy! You know I'm just glad to be in a different world this time! It looks odd though. Where are we?

We're in a cultish kind of universe full of animals such as yourself.

Oh, I see! This would be a really nice place to hang around then! Say... Am I still able to use all the powers from back in my original universe?

Yes, you can but don't overdo it and don't cause another problem!

No promises!

Ugh...

#Yes im taking this little scrunkly into the entirety of COTL because why not.#btw this little guy is from The June Archive and Restoration Project #ask sean and fuzz #oc askblog

7 notes · View notes

doomedandstoned · 5 years ago

Text

An Interview with UK Sludge Mongers SWAMP COFFIN

~By Shawn Gibson~

Let's take a moment to get everyone acquainted with you. Where is Swamp Coffin from?

Jon Rhodes (guitar/vocals): We’re from Rotherham, England. The armpit of the North.

Shawn Denton (bass): It’s a bit grim but it’s ours. Yorkshire is the best place in the world.

Dave Wistow (drums): It was either “Swamp Cough” or “Swamp Coffin”, it was a tough choice.

What are your favourite bands from this area?

JR: Disaster Forecast are a great fast hardcore band from Rotherham and there’s Bodach who are a riffy two-piece. Down the road in Sheffield there’s Kurokuma, Ba’al, Deltanaught and Blind Monarch. We’re lucky to have such a thriving local scene.

SD: Depends on how “local” you mean for the Area but if you think about a 15/20 Mile radius of us, there are the ones Jon has said, but we’ve also got Hidden Mothers, Temple Steps, Son of Boar, Gandalf the Green, Drawn from Ichor, Spaztik Monkey just far too many good bands. Not only that but we have some great venues and promoters such as Holy Spider Promotions, The Green Wizard, Circle Sounds etc who just make the scene thrive not only locally but are a linchpin to that scene across the country.

Why do you guys play sludge/doom? Would or do you play other music?

JR: I think we’re pretty lucky in that we can chuck in elements from a few styles into our songs and it still works. I’m a big death metal nerd so being able to add those sorts of riffs and vocal styles to the slow NOLA riffs we all love is perfect for me.

SD: I can’t play anything else. I’m self-taught and that’s just how my bass playing is. I love all sorts of weird and wonderful and varied stuff, but at the crux of it, I just love a big nasty groove.

DW: I’d have to hit the gym if we wanted to play anything faster.

Name a great book you have read.

JR: I like a good autobiography. Ozzy, Schwarzenegger and Bret Hart’s books are all great reading.

DW: Dragon Teeth by Michael Crichton, that’s the last great book I read.

SD: All of the releases by 27b/6 David Thorne is my hero. Such a wanker

What gear do you use and setups to create this badass heavy music known as Swamp Coffin?

JR: Volume and fuzz are the two main ingredients. I like old solid state amplifiers, a Big Muff, a couple of overdrives and then the signal is pushed even more by an EQ pedal so I’m hitting my amps as hard as possible. Guitar wise it’s a stock Telecaster copy with single coils.

SD: Don’t even get me started, big old solid-state peavey head and jazz basses. The pedalboard is mostly COG Custom stuff. He’s a local fella from Sheffield and is an absolute wizard. I run 6 drive/gain stages with various stacking and combos for different songs for a different feel. As a three-piece we need to make sure we can still achieve that WALL OF SOUND and for me, I need to make sure I can cover a broad frequency spectrum and cover some of the typically “rhythm guitar” areas to allow Jon that space and freedom to take lead sections without it feeling like something is missing. This is a section I could bore you on for hours.

Flatcap Bastard Features by Swamp Coffin

What are "flatcap features" and who are the "bastards" wearing them?

JR: I’ve always wanted our music to represent where we’re from. We were stuck for a name for the EP and did a thing on our Facebook asking for title suggestions. Flatcap Bastard Features stood out. To me, it invokes the area’s hard-faced steelworkers and coal miners. Also it gives us an excuse to use Sean Bean saying “Bastard” for our intro tape.

SD: Everyone is Bastard Features, just not all wear flatcaps.

What heavy bands influenced Swamp Coffin?

JR: Crowbar, Down, Eyehategod and C.O.C are the obvious ones but I’m hugely influenced by British extreme bands like Carcass, Iron Monkey and Labrat.

SD: For me, the obvious is Black Sabbath, but also bands such as Iron Monkey, The Abominable Iron Sloth, Deftones, Kyuss, Karma to Burn, Dozer, Truckfighters, Hangnail. I’m more from the Groove/Desert/Stoner side of things.

Who are some current bands that Swamp Coffin is listening to these days?

JR: Goblinsmoker’s first EP is still on heavy rotation. I’m a big fan of Conjurer, Employed to Serve, and Slugdge who are all doing different but amazing things for British heavy music. I’m always trawling Bandcamp for something new and horrible to listen to.

SD: Definitely not Tides of Sulfur. Fuck those guys. [editor: he was joking, they’re actually good friends.] I'm digging loads of underground bands at the minute, Battalions, VOW, Torpor, Wallowing, Hidden Mothers, Blind Monarch, Under. There are just so many good bands and so many good releases at the minute it’s impossible to keep up.

Tell me about an awkward time that Swamp Coffin has had?

JR: It took us near enough two years to find a bass player that would stick around for more than a couple of practices, that’s always awkward when they don’t want to come back! Shawn is as big a cunt as me and Dave so he fit in perfectly.

DW: Those two are always creating awkward situations, I just sit back and laugh.

SD: I feel most awkward when we’re turning down shows, especially when its promoters we don’t know or have a relationship with. It feels awful as we’re offered some really killer shows with some great bands, but we all have families and full-time jobs that we have to prioritise and plan around.

On your Bandcamp page your picture shows you guys messing around in the back yard and smiling. I love it and think we need more of that! People looking hard or like they are straight from Satan's asshole in these pictures sometimes!

JR: I don’t mind bands doing serious faces and folded arms, there’s always a place for anger in this genre, it’s just not us though. That picture was taken at a family barbecue at Dave’s house and is us just fucking around and having fun. I like that we don’t take ourselves too seriously.

SD: We play in a genre that at times, falls victim of taking itself too seriously. For me, this is fun, it’s a release and time to do it for me. I’m not a dark and miserable person. I love having a laugh, and taking the piss and trolling and winding up my friends. If you take a look at our Facebook page, as much as there is the serious promotional stuff, a lot of it is us having fun with the fans of the band and other bands we know and love.

Are you guys playing any shows or tours?

JR: 2019 was our first year as a gigging band despite us being together for three years now. We’ve played some amazing shows with some amazing bands so hopefully more of the same for 2020 and beyond. Our first gig of the year was with UK legends Raging Speedhorn in February in Sheffield, after that we’ll see where we end up. If anybody wants to book us on Bloodstock or Damnation we won’t say no.

SD: We’re not in a position to do a “tour” at the minute although never say never. Like Jon says We have Raging Speedhorn in Feb, which is a personal highlight for me and can’t thank Greg at Record Junkee enough for that show, and we’ve got a couple of others waiting to be announced. We’d love to play a few festivals, big ones and the small, local underground ones. For us though, it’s about playing shows with other bands we love and enjoy.

Something I like about your music is that it's heavy as hell and has a groove about it! Please tell me a little about your process for songwriting.

JR: Generally, I’ll turn up to practice with a few riff ideas and a rough idea of where I’d like the song to go and the overall vibe. I normally jam these out with Dave and we improvise sections until we hit on something cool. Shawn is the glue that holds it together and chucks his bass line ideas on top, brings the groove out and helps keep things interesting. Lyrically, I just try and scream about whatever is pissing me off at that point in time.

SD: Riff on the root and see what happens. Jon comes up with the bulk of the riff ideas, I’m not an ideas man, but I’m the sort of guy that once I hear the framework of something can come up with ideas and approaches to change and shape it. It kind of just happens, there isn’t a process of sorts. Just play until its right to our ears.

Hey Ho, Stolen Logo by Swamp Coffin

"Last of the Summer Slime" is my new jam! I love the end where it slows way down. Tell me about this song and was it fun to make?

JR: I loved recording Slime. We were bouncing a few ideas around for how to end it and Owen Claxton (who recorded the EP) suggested the ending you hear on the record, everything slowing down and detuning. It’s 13 minutes long so we wanted to almost reward the listener for making it that far with the ridiculous ending. The song is about my kitchen burning down last year and the shitstorm that followed it so there’s a lot of venom on that recording and when we play it live.

DW: I think we started out with that slow riff at the end, did we not. We built the whole song around getting there. It was pretty fun explaining to Owen how we wanted to record it.

SD: This is one that just happened naturally. I really wanted to try some stuff down-tuned a step further to A, we started jamming and then there was a song. It just kind of happened. But as Jon says, the ending is all Owen, great idea of his to fuck with things in that way and fuck with the listener. I think he captured us, our approach and who we are extremely well there.

What is in the future for Swamp Coffin?

JR: We’ve got a few tracks lined up ready for a follow-up record and we’ll hopefully be in the studio mid-next year. There are a few more gigs lined up and we’d love to try and get on some festivals. After that, who knows? We’re just enjoying taking each day as it comes.

DW: Beer?

SD: Who knows, it would be good to get a release out there on a small independent label. Vinyl would be nice but who knows. Mostly it’s just taking it as it comes, play the gigs we want to play and hope people like it.

Follow The Band

Get Their Music

#D&S Interviews #Swamp Coffin #Rotherham #England #UK #Doom #Sludge #Metal #Shawn Gibson #Doomed & Stoned

1 note · View note

amzngphil-rp · 7 years ago

Text

Nightmare After Drinking (Again)|| Youni Advent Day 11: Christmas Wish Come True

It was the annual Christmas party reunion for the families and their kids were less than excited to be there. Persephone sat at the other end of the huge banquet table from Sylvan. He was so mature looking for his age, even she got a little shy that she was older and hadn’t blossomed like he had. Elliot sat next to her, elbows on the table as he watched Harlan corral his younger siblings into their baby seats. He feels someone hit his thigh, making him turn towards it, it was his father, Dan, “Elbows off the table sweetie.”

“Hai, Otosan,” he replied automatically.

“Look, Dan, if he wants to gawk at his fantasy boyfriend, then let him put his elbows on the table,” Persephone snapped back quickly to Dan, quickly checking to see if Sylvan saw her.

Dan was taken back by the comment and quickly gave her a stern look after she checked to see if someone was watching him get embarrassed.

Amalthea and Theodosia looked between the others talking and eating, Amalthea also had eyes on Sylvan, who kept gesturing to Persephone about something, where Theodosia had her eyes on the big haired boy on her brother next to her. “Sweetie you want any seconds for dessert?” Dan asked as he served himself some bread pudding.

“No..thank you, though, daddy. When are we done eating?” Theodosia asked, looking at him, “I wanna play with the other kids.”

“Soon babe, we have a white elephant coming up too!” Thomas cut in and gave a smile.

That stupid white elephant game.

Finally, the adults let their children play in the playroom in the basement while the slightly older kids watched the babies in another room. They watched a couple of movies and played a few games that Harlan had planned for them before Persephone piped up, “I’m bored!”

“Persi, no! I’m actually having fun. I don’t wanna go on an adventure.”

“Oh, we don’t have to...” she replied as she got up and shot everyone a look, walking over to her boots and pulling out a huge glass bottle full of a tinted cream liquid. She sat in the middle of them and sighed happily.

“Is that what I think it is?” Harlan asked, quirking an eyebrow, “And if it is, then I’m telling Uncle Phil and my dad because that’s not meant for us.”

“Come on, bro..we can live a little...It’s not like..wait it is eggnog right?” Sylvan piped up.

“Why yes it is, Sylvan, it is eggnog. It’s the adult’s eggnog, so it’s special,” she replied.

“I like your style,” JP looked at her with a nod, begining to grab the bottle, “My dad doesn’t want me drinking this either.”

Persephone snatched the bottle and held it to her chest, “Wait! Only if you’re older than 12 are we doing this. How old are you all?”

“Persi, I’m 12, you know that,” said Elliot.

“Ugh, can’t you do maths, Elliot? I said older than 12, not 12 and up. You can’t drink. Next!”

“I’m 19, but I still don’t think we should do this..And I wouldn’t be so mean to Elliot like that,” Harlan said, making Elliot blush.

“Fine, then you two can keep watch. Next!”

“I’m 13,” said Bryson, looking around.

“16,” said Reiner.

“14,” said Sylvan.

“15, isn’t that the same as you?” asked Samantha.

“Yes, that’s why I said 12, since that’s 3 years younger than me and I know that’s too young.”

“My brothers are 13,” said Sylvan as they were into their phones and recording the bottle to their social media.

“I’m 12 and a half, and that gets me in,” Amalthea said with pride.

“Damn..you’re smart..I like it.”

“I’m 9,” Theodosia began quietly.

“What?! No! Uh-uh! Go watch too, I don’t even know how you’re in this room with us...How old are you, Ja’Liyah?”

“13.”

“Good, you can party.”

“Uh. Sorry I’m gonna stop you there, Pers, she’s my sister and I know 12 is the cut off, I’m 17 and I say she doesn’t,” Rachel jumped up, taking Persephone back.

“Alright. I’m not mad, any other requests that their younger siblings not drink on principal and not age?” she asked to clarify.

“I’m gonna go ahead and say the twins not participate. It’s too many heads for that heavy of a bottle anyway,” Sylvan said.

“Ok. And I used some of the magic that Dan uses to make this magic eggnog, so we need to make a wish on the bottle so when we drink it, it’ll come true,” Persephone explained, holding the bottle in the middle of the circle, “Hands in, guys.”

All the participants gather their hands on the top of the bottle and make their wishes, then pass around the bottle for each taking a sip until it was empty.

“Kids! Come on we’re doing white elephant now!”

“Fuck,” Sylvan snickers.

All of them stumble up the stairs and sit in front of the tree, exchanging gifts and laughing. They play with the items they get like children and even start rough-housing with the younger ones.

All the adults wonder what’s gotten into them. However, their hearts warm at their biggest Christmas wish has come true: they’re having fun together. Even when Samantha threw up in a house plant, they chalked it up to too much candy and dessert.

“Uhh, baby, why does your vomit smell like bourbon?” Sean asked, concerned, Charlie looking at Persephone. The other parents gather around the rest.

“I ate an old piece of fruit today that I found cleaning my room today. I thought since I cut the fuzz off that the pungent taste was bearable enough to eat,” Samantha said, taking the glass of water.

“Hm..alright, but we’re gonna talk when we get home about how even fermented peaches and pears don’t smell like hard dark grain alcohol.”

#youniversityadvent

2 notes · View notes

cartoonhangover · 7 years ago

Text

Meet Mike Rosenthal

Meet Mike Rosenthal, the creator of Slug Riot! We asked him about life and his new series on Cartoon Hangover featuring an overly-dramatic guitarist, a spunky moldcore rocker-to-be, and a goblin/man hybrid that’s inevitably going to become your favorite character. Learn a bit about Mike and Slug Riot:

What's your animation background?

I doodled throughout school and made a few animations with the default movie maker on my computer, but I first started drawing regularly in high school when I'd submit shirt designs to Threadless. I went to college for writing, so all of my drawing experience was for comics for my college newspaper. Storyboarding is just comics, so that's how I learned to do that. Making Our New Electrical Morals for Cartoon Hangover back in 2013 was my first big project. I do some limited animation for personal projects, but that's about it. Real animation is hard.

What's the story of Slug Riot and its creation?

Slug Riot was a character I created for a comic in 2012 about being hardcore and crying. I fell in love with the idea of a character who's just always emotionally extreme. For my grad school thesis, I wrote and storyboarded a 15-minute pilot about him. The current series is very different than that original pilot—different story, different characters—but Slug Riot himself is the exact same. His personality has never changed. He's also a reflection of my love for weird music subgenres.

Are there real-life inspirations for the colorful characters in Slug Riot?

Every character is me. I was in an awful punk band with my friends in 8th grade. We were so bad that the band teacher wouldn't let us play the school talent show. As Vonnegut wrote, all this happened, more or less.

Can you explain the musical genre you've dubbed as "moldcore"?

Slug Riot is the founder of moldcore, a music scene he started in his boring hometown 10 years ago. Stylistically, it reflects noise rock with some garage, shoegaze, and punk. It's a fuzzed-out, erratic, loud mess, and if it doesn't result in something getting damaged, then you aren't doing it right. I made a moldcore playlist to get me in the mood when writing. It has Yuck, mclusky, Melt-Banana, Tobacco, Flying Saucer Attack, The Brian Jonestown Massacre, Les Rallizes Dénudés, Westkust, Japandroids, and Lightning Bolt. So moldcore is like all that. But more than a specific sound, moldcore is about self-destructing out loud.

What's up with the blue gunk dripping out of Slug Riot's ear?

That's the Mold. Slug Riot's brain is infested with it.

What kind of bands would have opened up for Slug Riot during their 10 years of touring the world?

Slug Riot would never work with a competent band. Every opener was some local teens who didn't know how to play their instruments. Once their opener was a pack of wolves.

Is music an important part of your life? What are some of your favorite albums or your current jams?

Music was definitely how I defined myself for a long time. Once I learned that the punk and ska bands on Tony Hawk's Pro Skater were real and not fake video game bands, I downloaded a bunch of stuff off Napster and bought my favorites at my mall's one CD store. I had a NOFX shirt in 4th grade no one else could pronounce correctly. I took up French horn until realizing ska bands don't have French horns and took up bass guitar instead. My older sister took me to the Warped Tour in 6th grade. I burned a CD for my Bar Mitzvah DJ to play that was full of songs you definitely couldn't dance to. Wish I could still find that CD.

Favorite albums. Okay. I think it's easier to talk about my favorite albums by year, so—

4th grade: Less Than Jake, Hello Rockview

7th grade: NOFX, War on Errorism

10th grade: Beck, Odelay

12th grade: Deerhoof, Friend Opportunity

Freshman: Neutral Milk Hotel, In the Aeroplane Over the Sea

Sophomore: The National, Boxer

Junior: Titus Andronicus, The Monitor

Grad school: Kanye West, Yeezus

After grad school: The Go! Team, The Scene Between

Now, uh, I've been listening to a lot of Kero Kero Bonito. So let's go with Bonito Generation.

If you were locked in a room for 24 hours with every TV show and movie ever made, what would you watch?

That's my life right now, and the answer is always Frasier.

Who are some animators or artists that inspire you?

Don Hertzfeldt's work, Homestar Runner, Clone High, and FLCL were my favorites growing up. Everything I make is me just trying to be like those. I want to make the art I wanted when I was 13 and everything felt important.

Got any 2018 new year's resolutions?

To throw all the video games into jail.

What else have you been working on lately?

I've been working on little cartoons with my friend Sean Godsey. We put them up on https://vimeo.com/user73952089. I still draw little comics. I also run a D&D campaign about Frasier.

How can we keep up with you? Got any of them fancy Internet links for us?

@vectorbelly is where I put all my very bad tweets. My Tumblr is vectorbelly.tumblr.com. My Instagram is a broken down toilet somewhere deep in the forest.

Anything else you want to share?

Please go make something creative today. It will make you feel better.

Thank you for sharing, Mike! You can watch Slug Riot on Cartoon Hangover Select on VRV: http://frdr.us/2Dp93qS

#slug riot #mike rosenthal #vectorbelly #wild seed studios #cartoon hangover #frederator #animation #cartoons #indie cartoons #music #rock #homestar runner #clone high #flcl

331 notes · View notes

bookclub4m · 3 years ago

Text

Episode 149 - Astronomy & Space

This episode we’re talking about Astronomy and Space Non-Fiction! We talk about astronauts, planets, moons, rocks, and more! Plus: We despair about all the math in these books!

You can download the podcast directly, find it on Libsyn, or get it through Apple Podcasts, Stitcher, Google Podcasts, or your favourite podcast delivery system.

In this episode

Anna Ferri | Meghan Whyte | Matthew Murray | RJ Edwards

Things We Read (or tried to…)

Packing for Mars: The Curious Science of Life in the Void by Mary Roach

Book of the Moon: A Guide to Our Closest Neighbour by Maggie Aderin-Pocock

“Too much information on the Moon.. Was not expecting that.”

Frequently Asked Questions About the Universe by Jorge Cham and Daniel Whiteson

Daniel and Jorge Explain the Universe (podcast)

Billions & Billions: Thoughts on Life and Death at the Brink of the Millennium by Carl Sagan

Impact: How Rocks from Space Led to Life, Culture, and Donkey Kong by Greg Brennecka, read by Sean Pratt

The Last Stargazers: The Enduring Story of Astronomy's Vanishing Explorers by Emily Levesque

Other Media We Mentioned

PBS Eons

Hidden Figures by Margot Lee Shetterly

Cosmos with Carl Sagan

Mapping Sam by Joyce Hesselberth

A Brief History of Time by Stephen Hawking

Links, Articles, and Things

Neil deGrasse Tyson’s Tweet about the alphabet in alphabetical order

Bobak Ferdowsi (Wikipedia)

Jack Parsons (rocket engineer) (Wikipedia)

He was an adherent of the esoteric and occult philosophy of Thelema, a religious movement founded by Aleister Crowley

Martian canal (Wikipedia)

Matthew’s article about Chris Hadfield

Orion's Belt (Wikipedia)

Space Jam (Wikipedia)

99% Invisible - Mini-Stories: Volume 12 (featuring Mary Roach)

Fuzz: When Nature Breaks the Law by Mary Roach

Metrication in the United Kingdom (Wikipedia)

Thirty Meter Telescope

“an under-construction extremely large telescope (ELT) that has become controversial due to its planned location on Mauna Kea, on the island of Hawaii”

Institutional review board

Arecibo Observatory (Wikipedia)

“A partial collapse of the telescope occurred on December 1, 2020”

Hank Green (Twitter)

Spaghettification (Wikipedia)

Episode 143 - Amish Romance

15 Astronomy books by BIPOC (Black, Indigenous, & People of Colour) Authors

Every month Book Club for Masochists: A Readers’ Advisory Podcasts chooses a genre at random and we read and discuss books from that genre. We also put together book lists for each episode/genre that feature works by BIPOC (Black, Indigenous, & People of Colour) authors. All of the lists can be found here.

Book of the Moon: A Guide to Our Closest Neighbour by Maggie Aderin-Pocock

The Jazz of Physics: The Secret Link Between Music and the Structure of the Universe by Stephon Alexander

I Have Lived Four Lives by Wilfred Buck

Tipiskawi Kisik: Night Sky Star Stories by Wilfred Buck

We Have No Idea: A Guide to the Unknown Universe by Jorge Cham & Daniel Whiteson

Star Stories: Constellations Tales From Around the World by Anita Ganeri

The Future of Humanity: Terraforming Mars, Interstellar Travel, Immortality, and Our Destiny Beyond Earth by Michio Kaku

Chasing Space: An Astronaut's Story of Grit, Grace, and Second Chances by Leland Melvin

Inhabiting the Earth by Leonard Moose & Mary Moose

Mapping the Heavens: The Radical Scientific Ideas That Reveal the Cosmos by Priyamvada Natarajan

The Disordered Cosmos: A Journey into Dark Matter, Spacetime, and Dreams Deferred by Chanda Prescod-Weinstein

Visions of the Universe by Raman Prinja

Hidden Figures by Margot Lee Shetterly

Astrophysics for People in a Hurry by Neil deGrasse Tyson

The Pluto Files: The Rise and Fall of America's Favorite Planet by Neil deGrasse Tyson

Give us feedback!

Fill out the form to ask for a recommendation or suggest a genre or title for us to read!

Check out our Tumblr, follow us on Twitter or Instagram, join our Facebook Group, or send us an email!

Join us again on Tuesday, May 17th for our 150th episode! Send us questions or topics!

Then on Tuesday, June 7th we’ll be discussing the genre of Classics!

#episodes #genres #space #astronomy

0 notes

mangled-dreams · 7 years ago

Note

Septic egos have to take care of Jameson and Anti after Marvin makes a mistake and turns them both into Kittens?

You’ve gotta be kitten me!

(I’m literally snickering as I type that. It’s just so cheesy and I love it!!)

“Wait!Wait!!”

Confusedlooks spread like wild fire at the sound of shouting somewhereon the second floor followed but a loud explosion and smoke.Confusion gives way to panic, bodies jumping to their feet running upthe stairs to make sure everyone is okay.

“Marvin?Anti, Jameson?” Sean calls coughing and waving his hand trying toswim through the thick smoke. Chase and Jackie run to the windows andthrow them open picking up random long flat objects to fan the smokeout of the house.

“We'refine!” Marvin manages to shout between coughing fits emerging fromthe smoke as it clears the hallway. Sean's brows knit together at theodd way Marvin is carrying himself.

“Marvin,are you hurt? Where is Anti and Jameson?” Sean ask walking closerto Marvin for inspection before pausing and looks around for themewing sound. “Wh—What is that? Does anyone else hear this?”Sean asks looking around the ground for... “Is that cats?”

Marvinsport a guilty look on his face. “About that, Sean, Anti andJameson are fine they're just... just kittens.” Marvin explainedunfolding his arms and holds out two very small but distinct kittensin his hands. One seems to just be dazed and looking around confused.Its fur is a soft cream color with a black mustache pattern justunder its pink nose. The other kitten is hissing angrily, nipping atMarvin's hand in an attempt to attack him. The second kitten's fur isa calico pattern of blacks, dark brows, and hints of reddish orange.

IndistinctlySean guesses the docile cream colored cat is Jameson and the angrylittle ball of fuzz is Anti. The others crowd around to look at thetwo kittens after hearing Marvin's admission, curious to know if it'sreally true.

“Anti,stop biting Marvin.” Sean orders and is quite shocked to find thekitten stops for a moment before turning it's gaze on him in anger,hissing menacingly at Sean. Looking from a pissed off Anti to thecalm Jameson Sean asks, “Jay are you okay?”

Evenin his kitten form Jameson is still able to communicate with theothers. He tells them he's find but is very hungry and confused.

“Marvin,what happened?” Chase asks trying to pet Anti and laughs when heswipes his tiny paw at Chase's hand angrily hissing at him.

“Chase,stop egging Anti on.” Sean snickers slapping Chase's hand away whenhe goes to do the same motion again. Rubbing his hand Chase glares atSean but doesn't hold onto it longer than a few seconds. “Marvin,let's go down stairs and you can tell us what happened.” Seanoffers leading everyone down stairs to the kitchen.

Marvindeposits the two kittens on the counter tops and sits at thebreakfast bar. He takes off his mask and sets it down, the maskinstantly being attacked by Anti in his rage. Marvin knows the oldestego wants to attack him but with his diminutive size it's impossible,but on the other hand it's adorable to watch kitten Anti bat his maskaround without really making any head way in his need fordestruction.

Jamesontrots over to Sean and rubs against his creator's arm for comfort.Jameson doesn't understand it himself but its comforting to run thelength of his fur covered body against Sean's arm. Without thoughtSean scratches behind Jameson's ear.

“Iwas trying a new magic trick and Jamesone agreed to help me. It wasan experiment for transmutation. I was going to try and changeJameson into a cat and the spell should have held for just a fewminutes, then Anti showed up and...” Marvin hangs his head, shooingAnti away from his mask. “I lost control and the spell hit bothJameson and Anti. I guess Anti tried to counter act the spell but itjust blew up.”

Antihisses at Marvin batting at the strings of the mask, jumping up anddown to get at least a tiny bit of the mask before it's pulled out ofhis reach. It doesn't dawn on him that Marvin is actually playingwith him as if he would a real cat. Tail twitching Anti glares atMarvin with a level of hatred that just comes across as adorable.

Chasepeeks over Marvin's shoulder and snaps a photo of Anti before bookingit. Anti lunges off the counter at Chase, landing on his feet andsprints after. Jackie chuckles following the pair with his phone.

Seanshakes his head and looks down at Jameson purring contently on thecounter. “You don't seem to disturbed by being a cat.” Sean sayswatching Jameson slowly open his eyes and yawn.

Hetells Sean there is very little they can do until the magic isreversed and he is in his own body again. Sean nods and liftsJameson into his hands. “We'll figure out a way to get you back tonormal, okay?”

Evenin kitten form Jameson can't meow but instead purrs in Sean's hands.Jameson reminds Sean that he's hungry and when Anti's come back fromterrorizing Chase to meow at Sean with a dark angry tone.

Seanlooks to Jameson for assistance. Jameson informs Sean that Anti ishungry as well, he also takes a moment to admit it feels weird to bethe spokes person for another ego but there is a hint of pride too.He admits that it feels very nice to be of assistance.

Seansmiles and starts making a decent meal, looking up to make sure thefood he makes won't hurt a cat's stomach. When Henrik arrives home heinstantly questions why the house now has two very small, but stillvery cute cats. Sean explains what happens. Nodding the evening goeson as if nothing had changed.

At bedtime Anti retires to his room but can't open his door. Planing hisass on the floor Anti cries for someone to come open his door.Jameson sticks close to Sean as they ascend the stairs to see whatcould be the issue with Anti. Jameson explains Anti's currentpredicament and Sean opens the door for him.

“Youcan ask Jameson to relay a message to us.” Sean tells Anti only toreceive a glared response.

Jamesoninforms Sean of Anti's sneered response to which Anti hisses hisdispleasure at Jameson before disappearing into his room for thenight.

Ittakes Marvin three days to finally figure out how to reverse whathe'd done. During this time Jameson and Anti seem to find someresemblance of comfort in their new forms. Anti enjoys being able tohid in the tiniest of places only to pop out at attack whoeverhappens to be walking by.

Usuallyit's Chase. A small war has broke out between the pair. Chase nowwonders the hallways with a squirt gun to chase Anti off. It's becomequite the internet sensation to see kitten Anti and Chase “playing”around the house. Chase shouting and squirting Anti with the toy gunwith water.

Jamesontakes to being Anit's voice, censoring most of his less than politeremarks about certain members of the household and to comments fromSean's videos. When Sean is recording a video the viewers can catchJameson lounging lazily on a shelf or on the chair itself, playingwith the head phone cord or purring so loudly it transfers over themic.

Manycomments on the videos request that Jameson and Anti remain cats. Alot of people ask if Sean can bring them to the upcoming conventionso people can see them in person. Sean politely declines all requestsfor their protection. As a cat Anti is much more vicious because hecan get away with it easily. It makes him much more dangerous.

“Ithink I've got it!” Marvin shouts late in the evening on the thirdnight. “Jameson, Anti, I need you both to stand next to eachother.” Marvin instructs looking at his notes then the pair of catssitting relatively next to each other.

Jamesonasks if he's sure it will work and Marvin does his best to seemreassuring. Anti rolls his eyes but he wants to be back in his humanbody. If he could he would tap his foot in a passive aggressive way.

Marvinglares at Anti before waving his wand in a circle around the pair.Closing his eyes Marvin begins to chant under his breath. He'd used amainly concentration spell the first time but he'd tried a few timesin the past three days to use another concentration based spell to noavail.

“M-Marvin.”Chase whispers as wind picks up around Anti and Jameson. Marvin neverwaivers in his chanting as the wind some how obscures everyone'svision of the two kittens. “Marvin, what's going on?” Chase callsworried more for Jameson as the youngest than Anti. It's almost aproven point that Anti cannot die no matter what but being stuck as acat for the rest of his existence, Chase is worried that won't sitwell with the darker ego.

AsMarvin finishes his incantation the wind dies down and two solidfigures stand in place of the kittens. Sighs of relief sweep throughthe house as Anti and Jameson look themselves up and down beforelooking at each other with a slight resemblance of fear andconfusion.

Jameson'smouth gasps open and in Anti's tone cried, “Marvin you dolt! I'mnot in my body!”

Seanhangs his head. He doesn't know what to make of all this, but atleast they're human again. “Jay?” He asks looking at Anti's body.Jameson nods his head, well Anti's head telling everyone he's veryconfused again and how he ended up in Anti's body.

Eyeturn to Marvin who is just staring in complete disbelief. He's nevermessed with magic like this before and honestly expected theexperiment to fail but not succeed with a catch. “I... I don't knowwhat happened.” Marvin finally says looking around the room.

Anti'sanger expressed on Jameson's body is truly a sight to be hold and onethat Jackie quickly captures on video. For what it's worth, he'sexcited to see what kind of adventures will come this sudden changeof events. Jackie can't wait to see the fan art of this mix up. Hedid so love the kitten fan art.

22 notes · View notes