#in which nina screams into the void

[omegaverse-anesthesiologist]

why is ao3 is blocked on the hospital wifi????

[theladyoracle]

I love love LOVE your hcs for the manor itself🩷🩷🩷

does everyone live at yhe manor?! if so would you be able to write about the creeps bedrooms? (jeff, nina, ej, toby specifically?)

THANK YOU!!! 🩷🎀

Thank you so so much! I genuinely appreciate it! I love this idea so much. Content under the cut.

So yeah! Not all of the creeps do live in the manor in my au. The Proxies in particular are not allowed to stay at the mansion with the other Creeps (I like to think this is a manipulation tactic from the Slenderman) So I might include Toby and the other Proxies later, but their living conditions are drastically different from those that are allowed to live in the manor!

Creepypasta Bedroom Headcanons

(ft. Jeff the Killer, Nina the Killer, and Eyeless Jack)

The Collective AU by The Lady Oracle

Jeff

- As you approach Jeff's bedroom, you will notice the preamble of discoloration on the carpet and woodwork on the floor

- His door is splintered with stab marks, scratches and nics. At any given time you can probably expect to see at least one knife embedded in the destroyed door

- You can usually hear that you're getting close to Jeff's room before you see it

- When Jeff is home, his obscene music shakes the walls, and he plays his shows and movies at full volume. He has a complete disregard for anyone else who lives at the manor, and so I also imagine him always screaming and laughing and throwing things around his room constantly

- Jeff's room is always dark, no matter the time of day. He never has his windows open, and so the only lighting is due to the limited LED strips and the forbidden big light on the ceiling

- The furniture in Jeff's room can be boiled down to his mattress, a broken dresser, and a small desk. Anything else can hardly be considered furniture as it's usually torn apart or stolen from his victims houses

- I also like to imagine that he has an old beat up punching bag that is just falling apart at the seams. Like he's really gone in on this thing

- He has a lot of older technology as far as entertainment goes - old cassettes, VHS tapes, an old box TV, that sort of thing

- And you already know this mans room is a mess

- Dirty, bloodstained clothes are spread out across the floor of his room. Old dishes and bottles and cans are strewn about

- He uses his desk for a variety of his 'hobbies' which could mean a number of things....

- No one is allowed in his room - for everyone's benefit

Nina

- Nina's room is amongst one of the better kept living spaces in the manor, but only because when it's time for her to clean she shoves virtually everything under her bed and in her closet

- It always smells like some sweet Bath and Body Works fragrance. Like vanilla or strawberries

- I like to think Nina maximizes comfort in her room. Tons of pillows, blankets, a couple of different seating options. She's of course got a TON of stuffies

-I also imagine she has her own vanity, the kind that has lights. Maybe she has a couple stickers that she's slapped on it to cover some nics or scratches

- She has a little corkboard filled with Polaroids or little things that she deems important. There are ticket stubs, receipts, small doodles from Clocky, and photos of everyone she loves

-There used to be a lot more photos of Jeff, but now she only has one or two...the rest she's shoved in a shoebox in the depths of her closet or the void beneath her bed

- She of course has a bookshelf filled with all her diaries and scrapbooks

-She's also got a ton of snacks in her room

- Sleepovers would go so hard in here. Nina would make sure you're completely taken care of

Eyeless Jack

- EJs room can be described in few words; sterile, tidy, vacant

- There are a few scattered artifacts from his past life...a graduation certificate from high school, honors tassels, perhaps a couple of ribbons or awards for excellence...

- He still has one hoodie from his old college, and it's beaten to shit. He keeps it in his closet and wears it occasionally when he wants to feel normal

- He keeps his room so clean just because he's so used to doing so in his practice. Since he's the only medic in the manor that actually cares about keeping a sterile environment, he's just used to minding clutter in his daily life

- Not that he owns many things....

- There are scratch marks on his walls and around the rug near his bed. If you ask him about this he will refuse to elaborate, but you can probably figure this is from the occasional hunger pains

- He also doesn't spend a lot of time in here. Many nights he actually ends up crashing in the designated medic section of the manor

-If you asked to spend the night in his room...well you probably wouldn't even need to ask. Since he's not there most of the time you could probably get away with sleeping in there for a couple of nights without him knowing

-The only way he'd find out is if your scent lingered in his sheets

[neoyi]

Oh my GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOD.

I'm only thirty minutes into this video and I'm SCREAMING at what we could have gotten!

I've made no secrets how much I abhor Crash Twinsanity (sorry, I am a petty OG Crash Bandicoot Naughty Dog loyalist) and I've never been a fan of the Academy of Evil because I've always felt Cortex being, essentially, evil since childhood undermines his original descent into madness/villainy presented in the first Crash Bandicoot manual (he was ridiculed in the scientific community, that's all you really needed as a motivation for a guy with an easily bruised ego; it just takes one bad day etc etc), plus I just think it's stupid. Yes, I know, it's Crash Bandicoot, a series that runs on goofy Looney Tunes logic, I know, I knooooooooow. I acknowledge this is a me problem, but it's so STUPID.

But I loved Crash Bandicoot 4. Loved it a lot. It was exactly what I wanted from a Crash series: a greater focus on lore with enough pathos without betraying its humorous, funny roots. And it delivered! It was high stakes, but also funny! It could be goofy and cartoony, but it remembered to treat its serious moments with sincere, emotional drive.

I would have been curious to see how Toys for Bob would take that specific tone that they established in Crash 4 in order to explore the villain's backstories in the Academy of Evil. I genuinely think they would have done a dynamite job, as well as provide us with even more lore (which, god, holy shit, I am stunned how much Crash 4 was feeding us with its lore.) I would have been all in. I would have taken the dumb Academy of Evil because I legit think they could have put their own twist into it and portrayed it as something genuine and with added depth. Plus it might have brought Nina Cortex back and she's, objectively, the best Crash Bandicoot character post-NDi. I love her and I really wanted to see more of her.

And then there's the other proposal, the crossover with Spyro the Dragon. The possibility of Toys for Bob converting Spyro 1 levels into Crash Bandicootian stages of linear hallways and obstacles? Oh my GOD, I would have been in like a heart attack. I want that so fucking badly.

The promise of an even deeper look into lore and a "darker tale?" YES. YES, I want this! I don't want non-stop obnoxious Dreamworks humor that plagues the mid-to-late 2000s era Crash games. I want Crash Bandicoot to stare at Uka Uka's void and promise with absolutely certainly that he will kick his ass again.

And again, I acknowledge it is a Me Problem that I want more Crash Bandicoot games that can be emotionally-driven, but also carry an all-age appeal and be wacky, when this is a series was designed to be goofy as fuck (even the OG Naughty Dog concepts went over-the-top with its ideas.) But, man, I'm sorry, I was raised by the first three Crash games where it tonally balanced its absurd humor with a sense of composed grace. It's what I'm used to and it's exactly what I got with Crash 4. And MAN, I would have been so hyped for Crash Bandicoot 5!

I'm gonna watch the rest of the video and see what else was planned and cancelled, and then continue to be Big Mad at Activision for once again screwing with this franchise.

Never forget, Activision, Crash Bandicoot's revival was not an act of good grace, it was an apology.

[erikiara80]

All the signs that make Kali sus

Before I talk about the important discrepancies between Terry’s flashbacks and El’s memory in 4x07 (nothing is like it seems in this show) I need to talk about Kali again (more here)

She was in Terry’s flashbacks. That’s why El looked for her in the first place. So, after S4 and the Henry reveal, I analyzed 2x07 again and looked for any clue about her role. What I found makes her and Terry’s flashbacks even more sus.

The first time we see Kali, she uses her powers to escape from the police. Before she uses them tho, we see the tattoo on Axel’s forehead. Brain Damaged. In S3, Mike is worried that using too much power, might cause El brain damage. Definitely not a good sign.

Even before El meets Kali: ICU, I see you... Someone’s watching her (this one was found by givehimthemedicine)

Here she’s listening to Hopper’s voice, but Kali wakes her up. And it’s definitely not like when Mike can reach Will in S2. It is not reassuring. Kali grabs El and scares her. Another bad sign.

It gets even more interesting. Same scene, when Kali introduces El to her friends. Behind them: So long and thanks, a famous line of Douglas Adams’ series The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galazy, which was first published in 1979. And what looks like a blood stained door. Imo, a reference to the massacre at the lab. Strange tho. Kali shouldn’t be connected to the massacre. She had already escaped. But look at her, her smirk... 

This is one of my favorite. The word PAWN behing them. They literally told us.

The word ROT

Stinky Fate

A big face= someone staring at (spying?) them. It reminds me of the I’m watching you poster at Murray’s house. Also, the words FORGOT, SOS, GO AWAY!

RUTH. The Nina Project was supposed to help El regain her powers, so it shouldn’t exist in 1984. Why they’re connecting it to Kali then? Maybe because that place already existed and there are even bigger secrets about it. 

(THE FIRST SHADOW SPOILERS)

In fact, in the prequel, we learn that Brenner was already conducting experiments in Nevada in the 50s. And because of one of those experiments, Henry Creel vanished for 12 hours and wound up in Dimension X. 

The Eye. One is watching El.

The word NO. Or maybe, it’s Number. There’s also the word Ace = 1. So, Number 1.

VENDETTA

Search and Destroy.

THIS parallel (screenshoot by Kaypeace21)

Then, El hears Mike in the void, screaming It’s a trap! And I don’t think this is  just about the soldiers in the tunnels. I think it’s another hint.

And after El sees Will (interesting that they didn’t show him), we see the words ONE, DOSE and ROSE.

There is more to analyze, like references to Assassin’s Creed or The Invisibles, like Barbelith (more here/The First Shadow Spoilers) 

Barbelith, again. Help, Call 911.

But for now I just wanted to point out how the writers went out of their way to tell us that El shouldn’t be there. Yeah. SOS and GO AWAY! 

[comrade-bucket]

good omens s2e2 thoughts

I want to scream about every episode of good omens as I watch it slowly, I wish I had a community around it but I don’t wanna poke around tumblr or anywhere for fear of spoilers and I like to savor shit (“you go too fast for me binge watchers!!”).

So hear ol void buddy take my screaming!!

Idk if I’ve ever made so many noises at a screen! I have a lot invested into this world to the point where everything is imbued with Benefit Of The Doubt Goodness, like it’s my child. I guess that’s what being a fan is like but also being a fan can mean being extremely disappointed so there’s that

I’m not disappointed I’m screaming! Okay episode 2. I love the buddy holly song and the gasp I made when Gabriel sings it. I loooove the little gay dorky conductor motion Aziraphale makes before singing it to people, I am obsessed with it, I’m chewing the walls.

Job!!!! I just read a fanfic that partially takes place during the book of Job, I haven’t dived HARD into the world of GO fanfic but I’ve read enough that take place in biblical times that make me go “huh wow the bible is this real thing full of very old and pervasive myths, oooo there were real people wandering the desert back in the day,” sense-of-awe type vibes. And then the show is doing that!!!!

I love a show that wrestles with this very big question that feels like it is playing out for me on some ancestral level, as a person (like many of us) descended from people who believed in God: “HOW THE FUCK COULD YOU EXIST AND BE SO CRUEL, HOW COULD I BELIEVE, FUCK YOU GOD FUCK YOU!!” lol maybe that’s not entirely a question. Hard not to giggle at it a little but it’s also like a pretty big thing to wrestle with?? (I’ll die on this hill but see: thor love and thunder - dumb little box office stories that actually are wrestling with that if you choose to go there)

Bible fanfic!!! It makes something in me itch in a good, I think, way

What else. Brain all over. There’s Jim ordering the books by the first letter of the first word, which is like the damn Spotify playlists that spelled out those words. GOD DAMMIT!!! Brain tickles!!! What does it meeaaaannn?? Should I start looking for acrostics everywhere, like in that weird headline about the ducks held by that rando in the pub who is going to be important prob?? What does it mean when you open your life to the unhingedness and magic of little synchronicities like that, of things vibrating with hidden meaning???

The angels not recognizing Gabriel is sooo good - me expecting a more typical “ha ha he tries to hide Gabriel, shenanigans ensue” - nope, he just answers the door, the angels don’t know him, Aziraphale (like us) is like “….okay what the fuck???” [unless it’s the miracle that’s hiding him, that’s possible]

There is something with identity and who are you if your appearance changes but you stay the same (the goats, Job’s children); who are you if your appearance stays the same but you are fundamentally different inside and/or nobody recognizes you and/or you have to pretend to be someone else (Gabriel/Jim, Job’s kids when they come back) (and then there’s Maggie and Nina actually being entirely new characters with the same face!) (and! on the opposite side, Beelzebub having a new face and the story is like “eh, new face, same guy”) - what is identity, what is a self??

And then identity is a theme for Aziraphale too right!! At the end of ep. 2 he’s like “what am I???”, it’s a whole existential crisis, (you feel for him so hard, because these actors are so fucking good??). He’s like I can’t possibly be an angel because I did these non-angelic, demonic things… and Crowley is like “🤷 you can still be an angel, more or less”…….. if you appear to be an angel then nobody has to know…… and what, really, is the difference

(“if it walks like a duck and it quacks like a duck”... and Crowley’s thing with ducks!)

Holy shit and that flows into undertones of things being a metaphor for being closeted?? Would love to untangle it more but that scene where Aziraphale eats the meat - 1) was SOOOOO fanficky (in the best way!!), I mean I’m puking, (Book of Job fanfic! Just an intimate encounter in the space between scenes); 2) was very easily some kind of stand in for, you know, temptations of the flesh, gay sex type thing. (I mean… did he have to eat the meat like that… did Crowley have to watch him like that... I mean… come on. Amazing.) (incidentally I think Michael sheen is playing Aziraphale even gayer this season mannerisms-wise and I just love it a lot!!) - so anyway, Aziraphale and Crowley’s whole thing being “we love each other, we know we love each other, but NO ONE CAN KNOW how much we love each other”… even to the point of hiding it from ourselves, lying to ourselves (cough Aziraphale)… that theme just feels so present!

Being closeted… you have this experience that is so pleasurable and full of love and can’t possibly be wrong (eating meat, befriending a demon)... and yet the highest powers are telling you it’s wrong, god says it’s wrong, that’s your entire identity, so who are you?? You just have to pretend… oh man it’s so sad pals!!!

I’m obsessed with this identity thing. I wonder if it’ll be important to the plot. Back to episode 1, Az & Jim: “I know someone who looks like you” “that’s probably me then! I think that’s one of the ways you can tell” - ha ha funny joke cute line, except wait, it is thematically resonating throughout everything, oops!!

ALSO getting caught in the rain and taking refuge under an awning and falling in love = it raining outside the garden of eden and Crowley shelters under Aziraphale’s wing…. GOD FUCKING DAMN IT

Okay those are some of my long chaotic thoughts, thanks for listening void!!!

[discodeviant]

Not Duke, Not Prince - Part 3

Billy | Teen | 1k words Alternate Canon/Divergence

Made for @billyhargrovebingo! Prev. | Part 1

“A lion.”

Billy squirmed under Hopper’s icy gaze, though it was warmer than he let on. It sounded stupid when he said it like that, deadpan and tired, bored if Billy closed his eyes and listened. But he kept his eyes open, looking between the flat ceiling and the hat twirling in the Chief’s hand. “Yes, a lion, I’ve said that twelve times.”

“You hit a lion with your car.”

“It fucking ran in front of me!”

Billy took a deep breath, and then Hopper continued: “Hey, I’m not trying to piss you off, alright? You’re sure it wasn’t a mountain lion.”

“Christ, I’m sure. Probably escaped a zoo or some shit, I don’t know.”

“Well, I might agree if our zoo had an African lion, but it doesn’t, and the one that does still has it contained. So forgive my confusion.”

“I wasn’t on drugs, man.”

“You’ve also said that twelve times.”

“It’s true!”

“Then why were you driving around so late? You said, what, eleven at night? By yourself?”

Billy stilled and wished he were ten sizes smaller so Hopper would stop looking at him like that. Suspicious and crass, Billy hated that look. It reminded him too much of Neil. “Just getting out of the house,” he said, which wasn’t untrue.

“On a school night.”

“I graduated.”

“No job?”

“Fuck’s sake, Chief, what do you wanna hear? That I was sneaking out to buy heroin?”

“Were you?”

“No!” He moved his arm so fast that the IV nearly slipped right out, and Hopper held both hands up like he was taming a wildcat. Billy licked his molar, breathed a little, rolled his eyes, and said like it was a confession, “I had a date, okay?” In some ways, it was. Or it would have been if Hopper knew the whole story that dated back to San Diego, to the day his mother left, to the day he was born. There were days when Billy didn’t remember her name at all, only the face that disappeared along with every atom of hope he had left. In the time since, her golden hair turned rusty in his memory, but her eyes were still haunting. They were when she was alive too.

Hopper’s hands moved into a more inviting gesture. “See, that wasn’t so hard, was it? What’s her name?” Billy side-eyed him. “It was a her, right?”

“Yeah.” Another thing that made his stomach twist. “Just some chick from high school, alright, it doesn’t matter.”

“If it doesn’t matter, then you can tell me her name.”

He didn’t think too hard about it. “Nina Herrera.” Hopper nodded, still unimpressed.

“Easier when you don’t wanna strangle me, isn’t it?”

“Whatever.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” He stood up and put his hat back on, straightening his cop-slacks as he cleared his throat. “Alright, I’ll come back tomorrow.”

Billy clearly didn’t come off as seriously as he hoped he would, asking, “I’m not done with you yet?” because Hopper laughed and shook his head.

“No, you’re not. Get some rest, kid.”

So he did.

Susan took Max to visit him after school, and Billy wished she hadn’t when he saw the look on Max’s face. She’d made it fourteen years without looking death in the eyes, and here she was, holding back tears for a step-brother who thought he’d be better off that way regardless. Susan left them alone; Max walked straight to the love seat to put her skateboard and backpack down, not having left it in the car for reasons Billy couldn’t begin to entertain. Standing by the hospital bed, hair frazzled and clothes uneven, she looked like a little kid.

“I’m okay, Max,” Billy said, because they’d been getting along fine since the summer. The relief of minuscule financial freedom made him less tense, working as an indoor pool boy during the winter months. It meant that Max wasn’t his void to scream into anymore, which meant things could resemble normal.

“No you’re not, asshole.” Her voice trembled with her hands, and Billy didn’t blame her. The gauze on his head was probably bled through, but otherwise he was unscathed, save for whatever head trauma he endured to think he’d seen a fucking lion. Maybe Hopper was right. Maybe it was a cougar after all.

“C’mon, I’ve been worse.” The sentiment was lighthearted, but she still shoved his thigh and hissed at him not to say that. He knew she’d seen worse as it happened and been the one to take care of it afterwards, but that was routine; that was something she’d gotten used to over the years. Billy was still home blasting music in his room, or she would hear the car outside if he was coming back. He made it to breakfast every morning because it was the most normal he could get.

“The nurse said you can come home in a couple days,” she said, and neither could quite decide whether that was a good thing or not. Billy would prefer his own bed to the hospital mattress, but the nurses were better than Neil. He’d have preferred Susan’s cooking, but hospital slop was better than blood.

“I’m sure I will. C’mere.” A weak hand reached out for Max to slip into, kneeling on the floor as Billy rubbed her back, combed through her hair with stiff fingers. Having another heartbeat so close to his made him feel strangely human again, not what remained of one. She was there. She cared about him, and he desperately needed to know that.

Max stayed at the hospital with him for a long while, reading to him and reluctantly letting him help with her homework. Neil and Susan were probably glad to get them both out of their hair, so they didn’t pick her up until ten. Susan brought some of his things so he wouldn’t be so bored by himself—his Walkman, a few books, his own shower supplies. Neil waited in his truck outside.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Billy,” Max told him with one last hug. He kissed her temple, and she rubbed it right off, but they both laughed about it as she left.

In the shower, which he convinced the nurse he didn’t need her help for—he wondered when he’d gotten so hairy.

Part 4

Uh oh, someone’s testosterone is working overdrive— unless… 🫣👀

[imelkar]

I need to tell into the void.

So, I've been reading "Rule of Wolves" lately and...

-----------------------SPOILERS-----------------------

I have been rooting for Nina and Hanne to get together basically from the moment I read the descriptions of Hanne, how she was leading a group of rogue nuns to ride (back in King of Scars). I was not sure they would get together at all. I was getting ready to search for fanfics right after finishing the book. And I just got to the scene when they FINALLY confess and kiss)))))))) I'm just so so so excited and elated and just screaming, kicking my feet (on the inside). I loved the slow burn, but am I excited to find out they are actually canon. Fuck yeah. Also... that means that they (or at least Hanne) were gay nuns, so that's also fun:) The entire time I've been reading this duology, I've been invested in Nina's pov/sub-plot the most. Mostly, cause I've been invested into hers and Hanne's relationship so much. It feels so good to encounter a sapphic relationship/characters in a book, in which I didn't know of their presence from the beginning. Such an amazing surprise!

There's a lot more I could say about this duology actually. I recently went through a break up and it (unexpectedly) is really helping me through it. I guess that's something you can say about art in general. Everyone can take something different out of it, depending on what is on their mind, what's important to them. But I am not exaggerating when I'm saying that I highlighted at least one quote every two pages of these 2 books (and keep in mind, I've been reading them on my Kindle. The pages are shorter there. I'm a bit scared to open the list of quotes I ended up highlighting).

These books have been like therapy for me. I truly didn't expect to enjoy them soooooo much, for them to bring out so many emotions. And that's why I'm writing all of that. I just wanted needed to share this experience.

[themagicalandmarvelousgeek]

I have a lot of Sonic headcanons but there are a few I just want to scream into the void for a minute. Tails is a Kitsune. He doesn’t know he’s a kitsune but will find out eventually. Amy is a witch. She is a novice but will eventually become powerful. The thing is with these two headcanons is that this means thst the two are in tune with nature and the world around them and would know when the world is thrown off balance in some way much like Knuckles, my interpretation of Shadow and even Espio (because ninja powers). Silver is also sometimes included in this group depending on which hcs on I feel like enforcing at the time because Silver is one of those characters with endless possibilities. Speaking of Endless Possibilities, when Sonic unleashed happened, all of these characters new something was wrong with the whole planet the moment it happened because they sensed that disturbance in the natural world. While everyone thought it was a strange and powerful Earthquake, Knuckles and Shadow sensed something was wrong with the chaos emeralds, Tails and Amy felt this evil and suffocating presence. Because of Nina powers, Espio was a mix of both. Basically, the moment the planet split apart, this happened:

[geassgirls]

(mod of suzaeuphysolos speaking!)

oh my god, this blog is a blessing! i was talking the other day with a friend about how wlw geass is pretty much nonexistence despite there being like, 2 or 3 canon lesbian characters and multiple sapphic coded characters. i could go on and on like.

it's a strong belief of mine that milly is a lesbian and i could honestly write a whole post about that. but she literally flirts with every girl that she sees.

and nina!! oh my god it's not even just euphemia. she was very clearly in love with milly like it's SO obvious hhhh (see the milly x nina tag for me screaming about them into the void) my specialty is pairing up nina with like all the girls because it works with all of them bc she truly is a lesbian. like, c.c., kallen, milly, shirley, euphy.... it just works.

there was definitely something going on between marianne and c.c.... like come on....

and cornelia's infatuation with marianne seemed....very gay. idk. like she was a young lesbian in training.

there's so much more geass material i've yet to dig into like i know in oz the reflection there's like 2 more canon lesbians, and i've seen some gay looking stuff from akito, i need to get to those

thank you! i know f/f is always unpopular but i still find it a little shocking that a 15+ year old fandom with multiple canon/implied sapphic characters has so little femslash content :( i strongly agree that milly is a lesbian! honestly idk how anyone can finish the anime and think otherwise lol like her character arc literally culminates in her taking control of her life by rejecting societal expectations/familial obligations and calling off her engagement to a man... and she was explicitly inspired to do so by her confrontation with nina!!

nina and milly are both SO interesting and their relationship is like integral to any Queer Reading of cg but hardly anyone talks about them?!?

and marianne and c.c. make me insaaane personally like i generally read them as having had some kind of physical relationship which c.c. was romantically invested in despite herself and marianne was... not... :')

i started reading oz the reflection the other day and was excited by how gay it was right off the bat!

[jeysbvck]

top 5 911 episodes 👀

NINA I HAVE BEEN TRYING TO ANSWER THIS FOR LEGIT HOURS!!!!!!

there's SO many good episodes you know this alsksjdhduwua, these are NOT in order bc this was hard enough😭😅

1. the searchers (s3 ep3) - i don't need to explain why this is one of my favourite episodes, this was such an easy pick for the list. the whole tsunami arc really cemented this show as my favourite show, i was on edge the entire 3 episodes, the acting in it is sublime, and do NOT get me started on that last scene bc i will not stop!!!!! (if you know, you know, and i know you know nina!😏) this episode is the moment i realised i was going over the cliff with buddie and i couldn't stop it, even if i wanted to!

2. 911, what's your grievance? (s4ep4) - okay it was between this, buck begins and eddie begins. as much as i love the begins episodes, i chose this because of one scene; bucks "love me anyway" scene. i think about that scene at least twice a day, and every single time i watch it, it makes me tear up. we also get the adorable buddie being sherlock and watson scene!

3. survivors (s4ep14) - yeah i absolutely do not need any reasoning as to why this episode is here. the shooting, the will reveal, because, evan!!!!!!

4. may day (s5ep16) - seeing eddie being a firefighter again, and seeing him truly smile again for the first time was too much to handle, i was so emotional! not to mention sassy eddie (to josh), buddie rescuing the electrician together (you should take this act on the road!!!!), how they fell in sync seamlessly like they'd never stop working together and bobby saving may (he's my dad!!!😭) the episode had me so emotional and the twist I didn't see coming! (the death, not the jonah stuff cos we been knew that!)

5. hero complex (s5ep17) - this episode was absolutely anxiety inducing, i've never been so happy with how many adverts american tv has!! this episode really showcased hen and chims friendship, which truly is one of the best tv friendships ever, possibly one of the most evil things ive seen on tv (jonah, hen & chim scene), and on top of all that, we got to see sassy eddie again, & we saw him confront & reconcile with his dad! also shout out to domestic buddie (buck just chilling in the room for no reason while eddie packs, supporting him and giving him advice while playing with the dinosaur toy jfc they're really trying to kill us!)

i hope this list was worth the wait, it probably wasn't it's just me screaming about buddie, although honestly, this is why you follow me, not for concisely thought out questions or posts, just for me screaming into the void😅😅

[narnie]

ok I’m screaming into the void but has anyone talked about the significance of

(six of crows and crooked kingdom spoilers below!! you’ve been warned)

“Many boys will bring you flowers. But someday you'll meet a boy who will learn your favorite flower, your favorite song, your favorite sweet. And even if he is too poor to give you any of them, it won't matter because he will have taken the time to know you as no one else does.” (Six of Crows)

and how Kaz Brekker didn’t bring Inej Ghafa flowers, but instead bought her a ship, personally saw to the little details of naming it and assigning Specht as her second, ensuring the Ravkan government would find and reunite her family to Inej, all while doing it lowkey in the midst of the greatest heist he’s come up with yet

Kaz “She’s yours. I’ve asked Specht to help you hire on the right crew.” Brekker

Kaz “That berth belongs to you too. It will always be there when—if you want to come back.” Brekker

Kaz “bare hand flexed on the crow’s head of his cane” Brekker

and don’t get me started on the pure example of love and character development Kaz Brekker displayed by gifting Inej Ghafa a freaking ship titled The Wraith bc he literally went from “Stay. Stay in Ketterdam. Stay with me.” in SOC to “Say you’ll return.” in CK which roughly translates to I don’t want you to leave because I love you but I love you too much to make you stay and be unhappy so follow your dreams, and I’m hoping I’m one you’ll come back for

like ma’am, Kaz didn’t bring Inej flowers but he gave her freedom and a ship and her parents because that was what she wanted most in the world and not only did he take the time to learn this about Inej but he selflessly and sacrificially worked to do all this without anyone knowing at his own freaking expense

“He’d liquidated every asset he had, used the last of the savings he’d accrued, every ill-gotten cent” (p.358, Crooked Kingdom)

we’re talking about the Bastard of the Barrel, the money-driven, revenge-hungry, Dirtyhands Kaz Brekker cashing in all his chips to give Inej Ghafa the future she yearned for and the love she deserves

Kaz Brekker, who does not stop to consider anything other than the job and what will ensure its success, who cannot tolerate side plans (e.g. Nina and her Grishas) that would distract from his goal, going out of his own way and inconveniencing himself in order to give without expecting anything in return

I won’t even begin to describe the significance of Kaz meeting Inej at Fifth Harbor with no gloves on, no armor

I’m so soft don’t touch me

[omegaverse-anesthesiologist]

WAIT NOW THAT THERE ARE PEOPLE HERE I CAN FINALLY ASK THE QUESTION

[lynyrdwrites]

Okay, so I finished Shadow and Bone, and I have some thoughts that I must scream out into the void.  So yeah, spoilers beneath the cut. 

First of, let’s talk about the absolute scene stealer.  The character whose casting I wasn’t sure of, but who turned out to be portrayed so perfectly that he will live rent free in my mind for the rest of forever. 

Jesper Fahey. 

Holy shit, you guys.  He had the charisma.  He gave off the chaotic bisexual energy that was required.  He was fucking H I L A R I O U S.  And his friendship with Inej was just *chef’s kiss*.  

Honestly, the Crows overall were the best part of the season by far.  I found myself mostly distracted by my phone between their scenes, but as soon as they popped up?  I was all over that. They were just. So. Perfect.  

Now, I have never been able to get through the first book in the Grisha Trilogy, so I’m not entirely surprised that those storylines didn’t really hold my interest.  Mal is boring, although it sounds like he’s less of an ass than in the books?  Seeing Alina master her powers was fun, but it lost something since I know how the series ends.  Her chemistry with the Darkling was A+, though, and I’m super tempted to write a fic where he follows through on what he said to Mal and there’s UST between him and Alina for centuries as they battle back and forth.  No one ever takes full advantage of the potential that immortal characters have for centuries long feuds and pining.  

I liked the Helnik scenes, but they did kind of feel out of place with the rest of the show.  The Crows’ storyline ultimately was merged in with the storyline of the books, but Nina and Matthias were so separate that I found myself anxious for their scenes to finish so I could get back to the main story.  Which was too bad, because they did have some cute interactions, and I liked that so much was lifted right from SoC. 

Overall, I give this first season a solid 7.5/10.  I thought it was cast well, with the Crows and the Darkling being the standouts (if bad guy, why cast Ben Barnes and style him like THAT).  Milo the Goat was also a MVP, and I would like for him and Jesper to be reunited, please.  I’ll also need Wylan for season 2, because Jesper deserves a cute boyfriend who is also the explosive expert he keeps asking Kaz for. 

So yeah, I really wasn’t surprised by my final thoughts and feelings.  I went into this for the Crows, and if they hadn’t been included, I probably wouldn’t have finished the season.  But they made it worth it, and I’m curious to see how they’re added into the rest of the trilogy, and to see their Six of Crows and Crooked Kingdom play out on screen. 

[rotzaprachim]

in secret, between the shadow and the soul 1/2

Kanej, Inej-centric. Teen ish, marriage of convenience, 3000 words 

(About 6 years post Crooked Kingdom) 

Read here on ao3

The apothecary asks her how long it’s been since she’s been intimate with her husband, and Inej almost chokes, says no, she hasn’t been in a very long time. Honesty is always difficult in her carse- dealing with her own past, own demons is hard enough without having to watch other people attempt proper emotional responses on her behalf, and maybe the apothecary senses that because she doesn’t ask more.

----

“It’s legal more than anything. A question of economics,” Kaz said, and Inej nodded, because it's kerch and how could it be anything but? Certainly nothing as tawdry as emotion or desire, let alone love, could interfere with so large a life decision.

Only Kerch citizens can hold berths in the water, and its significantly easier to manage bank accounts and conduct major financial decisions of the kind Inej needs to make on the near daily when restocking her ships. There's one route faster than all the others to becoming a Kerch citizen.

Inej suggested it before Kaz did.

She isn’t ready for marriage, she said. She isn’t ready to be tied to a man, to be anything more or less than herself alone. The Kerch made the whole business easy by never referring to this thing they’re doing as a marriage, all the paperwork is about Economic Units, Civil Unions. There’s so many pages of jargon it made Inej’s eyes bleed. Future children held less inches of fine grey type than agreements on pigs and shipping company stocks, and were described in the same economic language.

Kaz went through the whole thing line by line until the shore she was going to call for an annulment before they’d even gotten the damned thing notarized, or else make herself a tastefully rich and very young widow.

“It’s a contract,” he said. “You should know all the details before you sign your life away.”

“For heaven’s sake,” Inej said, irritated by the last several pages about Property Division in the Event of Medium Sized or Larger Storms, Grisha Attacks, and General Flooding, “I’m not signing my life away.”

“When you get married, it might be difficult to annul if you’ve still got a legal Kerch-”

“When I get married?” she shoots back challengingly. “To who?”

“I don’t know. That fire-tongued revolutionary who writes you poetry and will make you a new world. The Kaelish tavern maid who always pours you a free beer in her bar while you sing about the plight of the repressed. Someone hopelessly moon-eyed and optimistic, who thinks the world shits rainbows and knows what you’re worth.”

“You, Kaz Brekker,” she finally sighed, “are a hell of a lot dumber than they say you are.”

---

She doesn’t tell her parents. She’s not ready for that conversation.

---

She doesn’t tell Nina. She’s not ready for that conversation either.

---

The whole thing was finished in a notary’s office in ten minutes.

Kaz’s gloves were off, more because they both need to be fingerprinted than anything else.

He swore a short, official oath of his loyalty to both her and the Kerch market, promising not to cheat in foreign ports and to provide for and any hypothetical children. She thought of the paid-off indenture and the ship and the found parents and berth twenty-two and and her room in the house in bought on the Zelverstraat and thought that maybe he’s better at doing that than he thinks he is.

She swore a shorter official oath about fidelity and staying true and all her children being her husband’s, because to do otherwise would be bad economics and make her a poor investment, a value-destroyer, on the family line. Because it’s Kerch and of course it is.

---

“What are you thinking about?” he asked her afterward in an attempt at being casual. They’d been sipping at warm lukewarm flagons of beer in one of the harbour’s more reputable establishments and looking out at the water for twenty minutes.

“I’m thinking,” she said slowly, tasting her words, “that Alys Van Eyck is a very, very lucky woman that we came around when we did.” She’s still thinking about the various punishments for women who pollute the family line, which even if motivated by economics over faith as such things would be in Fjerda, are not dissimilar in practice. She’s realising more and more the Kerch neuroticism over bastardry probably comes from having so many of the young men gone for half the year at sea.

Kaz guffawed, which was not a sound she was really used to him making. “You never fail to surprise me, Wraith.”

“How is the Vrouw Dazi”

Kaz shrugged. “Not useful to my purposes anymore. Wylan’s got her an Bajan set up in a little cottage outside Pijl with a tidy sum tied to not making too much noise.”

Sometimes she fantasized about breaking into that cottage and putting on a performance similar to the one that sent Pekka Rollins screaming from Ketterdam. She didn’t, because she didn’t subscribe to the idea of the sins of the father and thought Saartje Kazanja deserved a da with his mental pieces mostly intact. But saints take all, she wanted too.

“How’s Saartje?”

“I don’t know. Kid? Looks more like she could be ours than Jan Van Eyck’s, that’s for sure.

The tips of Kaz’s ears went red before he finished that sentence and he stared into the foam at the bottom of his glass, head turned decisively away from her.

“Fine, I think. In school now. No reason to keep tabs.”

They toasted her new Kerch citizenship. Inej swore she saw his hand shaking.

----

Her citizenship documents, stamped with a wax seal of three flying fish and a small Kerch flag came three days later, expedited by Kaz in ways she cannot begin to fathom. It’s only then she realised that they’re for the new Vrouw Rietveld, that she made her vows to Kasper Rietveld. It’s only logical- Rietveld can be the upstanding businessman who only exists on paper in a way Kaz Brekker cannot, all the better for her dowings, but it still feels like a piece of himself gifted to her.

She could forge Rietveld’s name for her own purposes too; they practiced on old betting slips that she then threw into the fire. Kerch women can legally make almost every kind of financial decision and dealing, less due to the Merchers’ Council’s upstanding opinion of the female gender than the portion of the year the men are at sea, the incredible odds they won’t come back.

(They’ve rather flipped that scenario.

“How much cross-stitch will you do do fill up the void of my absences, she chided him. “They say the old sailor’s wives used to knit lace from the white froth of the sea.” Nowadays Wealthy Kerch women waiting for their husbands to come home tended to stick to knitting hats and scarves for orphans. So saints-damned many hats and socks, and yet you could still scarcely move for the number of bare-headed, barefoot orphans come winter. It was one of Ketterdam’s greatest mysteries.

“Inej,” Kaz sayid, eyes closed, genuine concern cutting his voice. Ever more she was picking up a sailor’s sense of gallows humour.)

---

They exchanged rings at the registry. Inej’s was a simple band, no gemstones but she suspected it was solid gold. Inside was etched a wave pattern, an endless strip of open sea.

Wearing it on her finger meant something, soo she looped it onto a sturdy chain that she hid between her shirt and her beating heart. That seemed appropriate, doable. Young sailors often took the bracelets and handkerchiefs of their sweethearts out to sea as good luck tokens; Inej had a gold wedding band.

Kaz’s fingers brushed the chain in the warm dip between neck and collar as he said goodbye to her on the docks, and after she nodded infinitesimally, telling him to go on, finish this chapter of the story, he slowly pulled up the rest of the chain and found the band.

“I thought-” he said, but she looked him in the eyes, square as she could, and he halted. She doesn’t know what he thought.

“There was not and is not and will probably me a different man for me than you, Kaz Brekker.

He swallowed thickly and then slowly lifted her skin-warmed band to his lips, even though he did not believe in luck, had said he believed in nothing but her.

---

The Kerch don’t have seperate words for “husband’ and “man.”

---

“Mijn mann,” she says in response to the curious looks her crew gives her after the band slips free during repair work, and it doesn’t feel like anything more or less than the truth.

“Mijn mann,” she says tacitly when border authorities raise their eyebrows in suspicion at her Kerch passport.

“Mijn mann,” she begins her letters back to him. “Dearest Inej,” his come back, sometimes even “Loveliest Inej,” but he never uses a possessive pronoun form.

---

Having any kind of passport, official documentation, feels alien and strange. She comes from a people without a land, and for her entire childhood they Suli were denied any official documentation of Ravkan citizenship. That’s changing now, but many are still wary, and with very good reason to be.

---

The quick bureaucratic sketch to mark Vrouw Inej Rietveld as a Seetsen Van Det Kerchrepublik, looked absolutely nothing like the drawings on the three individual sets of national wanted posters that keep cropping up in seedy port cities. Absolutely none of the above get her nose right.

“I look white in this one,” she said, holding a particularly egregious example up to Aigerim, who commiserate mightily. “Look how fucking straight this nose is. No eyebrows.”

Hitting the nose furnishes very fun target practice for when her fingers itch to throw knives.

Inej wins a lot of games of darts in a lot of seamy seaside pubs tucked into a lot of different gritty port cities.

---

They dock in Pijl before Ketterdam to catch their breath and do repairs. Ketterdam’s a good place for business and to look for secrets and plan strategy but a shite location to re-sew a sail or patch up a wall, unless you like replacing your supplies every time they’re stolen. The prices of grain and barrels of water and apples are lower are lower closer to the fields as well, even if that involves bartering loudly in a Centraalmarket that smells like spilled cider and pig shit, straw crunching underfoot, rather than the hallowed halls of the Exchange.

It takes her three days to come down with the evil hybrid chest cold-stomache flu of her fucking life. Ameera shoves her back into bed with ginger tea and another blanket. The thing they don’t tell you about awesome pirate ships with awesome international crews is that you also get the full spectrum of awesome international germs.

By the fourth day, she’s putting on all three of her coats and stuffing a wad of kruge and her passport into a pocket to visit the clinic in town.

---

Other people seem to register this whole being-married business than Inej ever does. She just prefers the expedited customs lines.

The splotchy faced, matronly woman at the clinic sits her on a paper-covered table and reads through a list of questions on a clipboard. Nian loves the lab smell of pure alcohol, would probably dab it on as perfume if she could, but Inej only associates it with injury, with being patched and stitched up after a bad scrape, with the white-coated doctor who came in every two weeks to swab Tante Heleen’s girls for disease, with the brown bottle of the stuff she uses to clean blood and worse off of her knives.

“Family history of pulmonary infections?” the woman asks her. “Smoking, alcohol, jurda use?” Every question makes her squirm slightly, as if in the historyof her wheezing lunghs is some sin she’s committed and will only now find out about. Nejn, nejn, nejn. Inej forgot how much she hated being looked at.

No grisha in her family that she knows of- scribble scribble scribble- but a lot of bad eyesight.

“When was the last time you had intimate relations with your husband?” the woman asks bluntly, and that’s the question that knocks the air out from her. The woman’s thin yellow eyebrow quirks up, but Inej manages to disguise her gasp as a particularly bad fit of hacking. She knows its nothing but a bit of intrusive medical questioning, but words can have many meanings and the answers to questions can be both yes and no at the same time and a certain turn of phrase can punch like a fist and cut like a knife. So she just says “six months ago,” and gives the woman her answer for the write-up.

“Long time.”

“He’s a sailor. I cry as I wait for him to return to me.”

“Ghezen’s speed that he does.”

---

She isn’t quite sure the Kerch even believe in Ghezen as anything beyond a bit of window-dressing to their financial affairs and the punchlien to jokes. Not like she honours her saints, the small painted icon of Sankta Inej she also keeps next to her heart, her daily prayers in the dark comfort her her room. She stands with Merjan, one of her crewmates, at the grave of Sankta Mahari, Queen of Mercy and Patroness of the Lost as they read the ancient prayers together, their voices settling into the steadiness of bees. Our queen, protector of our people, give us mercy, pray for peace, pray for us, pray to bring light to the shadows of the things we have done.

Sankta Anastasia, Sankt Dmitri, Sankta Mahari, she whispers into her knuckles, her fingers moving along the prayer rope with the decisive snapping of wooden beats, pray for our safety in the storm and bring us to the shore.

---

If Inej has found her own name, written with a familar jagged hand, among the prayer-knots tied to the Zentzbridge in a plea of mercy from the sea, she will not mention it.

---

Ketterdam is ugly and bright and familiear. You can smell the rotting flesh and beer smell before you see the smoky smudge of the city on the horizon. The crew makes quick work of unfolding the grishaworked official three-flying-fish flag that gives them clearance to enter the harbour without having their decks searched by the council of tides and carefully docks at Berth 22. Considering that the berths are now being numbered out into the two-hundereds, its a plum location, but its also damn close to the action, meaning that she can already see the glimmer of plastic beads floating on the water, the dark smudges of drunkards bobbing along. A few of the crew memebrs are going to get their pockets picked right off the bat. Inej already has a slush fund tucked away for precisily this reason. She’s getting better at this, she hopes, being a leader. Predicting what will happena dn why and when. Being someone that other people- many younger and more vulnerable than her- can rely on.

“AIGERIM,” she screams as she buttons up her city coat, “only two of thsoe pink trinks with the paper umbrellas MAXIMUM. You hear me?”

“Yeah, boss.”

She sighs. She doesn’t want to be anyone’s boss. “If there’s anything like what happened with the canal and the Stadwatch last time happens again, I think I’ll find the decks need a good scrubbing.”

Aigerim gestures wildly. “Course, boss..”

She tries to take deep rbeaths to calm her nerves. Maybe she’s becoming a worried old crone forty years early, but she’s the one who survived this hellhole of a city. She’s the one who survived this far. In this world, twenty-three is a badge of honour.

---

He cuts a familar figure on the docks. THey each have their own webs now, know of each other’s doings three or four times removed, like recognising a faovrite drinking song on it’s third round of translation. The recognition of a familiar trick, hand, murder method. Kaz will read in a news paper of a mysterious storm that’s tripled the price of indigo and sweet-wood fans after a whole line of ships went missing off the Southern Pelagic Reefs and Inej will hear in a greasy Kaelish bar about the shocking downfall of an old Kerch trading family and they will each smile, privately, and admire the other’s handiwork.

But seeing him in person is something altogether different, and she still rushes over the slats of the quay, coat streaming behind her, stopping abruptly when she comes to him. They pause there for a second and then he lifts his arms and they wrap themselves together around each other, hesitantly but then warmly, firmly, sturdy as a sailor’s knot and with all the inevitability of the sea wearing stone to sand.

“I’ve missed you, Wraith,” he says into her hair and she shrugs into him, her head level with his chest. His chin rests neatly on her head now, if he leans down slighlty, and she swears that wasnt the case the first time they embraced, the first time she left Ketterdam. He denies that the Ice Court, Van Eyck, all that happened while he was a boy not finished with growing. Yet she herself’s tried on that first Wraith outfit- a costume of sorts, really, how different was it from the Scarab Queen’s glass-bead veil in the third act of the Komedie Brute- to find it no longer fit, that she couldn’t easily do up the buttons on the front. She has more of a woman’s set of curves to her hips and long, hard-earned muscles on her legs and thighs, and even if she is creating some new kind of legend it is under her own name now.

Sometimes, Ketterdam feels like that too-small jacket; it cannot fit the woman she’s becoming. So she sews herself a new coat from the fabric of the world.

“Mijn mann,” she says, because she likes the way his body flinches and then stills under her fingers with those words, sharp and unexpected as any knife. “I’ve missed you too.”

[dingletragedy]

hey, i know posting fic on ao3 at the moment is basically like screaming into a void and you might feel like you're not getting the appreciation that the fic deserves but your bb is honestly so amazing!! don't think otherwise because you've written such a great story full of relatable feelings and characters. you always manage to create such a beautiful vibe in your fics and you can and should be proud of it!

hey nina!!! thank you so much my love 💛

that’s exactly what posting on ao3 feels like at the moment, isn’t it? and it’s definitely something i’ve just got to accept, bu when you spend months and months working so hard on something, you can’t help but feel disheartened. it doesn’t help that i got those few harsh comments on one of my ballum week fics, and then another one the other day and it knocked my confidence a lot - but that’s a me problem lmao!

annnway, thank you so sooo mucin for this lovely message, and for the gorgeous comment you left on my big bang (which i will get to soon!) - i know i say this all the time, but i genuinely can’t tell you how much each and every comments means. i makes all that stress and tears worth it!!!

i hope you’re having a lovely weekend ✨ xx

[feotakahari]

The Void and the Shadow: The Prophecy

Setting up the plot.

It didn’t take long to gather up the rest of the Church. We were isolated, but we did have Internet. Many of us had already seen the accounts of towns and districts cut off from the world, visible but somehow unreachable, while half-rotting figures killed everyone inside. We were all desperate for an explanation.

The Void is our mother, Tuwotahl began. She is nothing. She birthed almost everything. She loves all that is not her.

The Shadow is strange. The Void didn’t birth it. It appeared. It hates complexity. It prefers identical people to people who are different. It prefers no life at all to identical people. In the end it wants no worlds. No stars. No Void. Nothing at all but Shadow.

We fought it with this. She held up the shard. We trapped it. The Seventh Legion had a prophecy that said it would escape. A Savior would come and destroy it forever.

“What if I’m not your Savior?” Allie interrupted.

Then your world will die.

Images flashed through my mind, brief glimpses of blue-haired women fighting blue-haired zombies.

The Seventh Legion had several candidates. They were ready to fight the Shadow. They died. We looked for Saviors on other worlds. Those Saviors died. Our world died with them.

They said I was too young to fight or search. I stayed until the Shadow tore down our shelter. I followed its army through a portal here. I may be the last one who knows the prophecy.

Maybe the Savior won’t know the prophecy. Maybe she’s on a world I’ve never seen. But I’m alive. I’ll fight the shadow. Whether I win or die is up to fate. What’s your fate?

“Fuck, I’ll do it,” Allie said. “I don’t care about your prophecy, but those things were hurting people. When I stopped them, it felt good, like I was doing what I was supposed to be doing my whole life. Just give me a real weapon and tell me who to hit with it.”

Tuwotahl opened up a portal with the shard. Follow.

“Not alone,” I said before I could stop myself.

Tuwotahl made a wordless exclamation of confusion, and the portal vanished.

“Not alone,” I repeated, forging ahead as if I knew what I was doing. “You’re fighting the literal Devil and his army of zombies, and you’re doing it with two people? Why not three? Or four, or five, or all of us? I’m not your Savior, but I’m here to help. Who’s with me?”

The first to step up was Nina, another girl from the Church. We didn’t have much in common, but I knew her casually just from proximity. “I--I’ll go,” she said. “I want to do this.”

The next was Mr. Pritchard, one of the history teachers from the school. “You need some adults on this.”

“I don’t think I can fight,” Father Hayes said, gesturing with his cane. “But if there’s anything else you need me for, I’ll do my best. If nothing else, I can offer you food and a spare room whenever you come back.”

More and more people volunteered, and Tuwotahl just smiled at us. I understand. Perhaps this is your fate too.

If I’d thought harder then, I might have realized what the Savior really was.

The Armory

On the other side of Tuwotahl’s portal, there was a windowless concrete room filled wall-to-wall with weapons. The floor was dusty, but the weapons themselves looked recently polished.

“Huh,” Allie commented. “Not a lot of guns.”

The Shadow won’t run from a gunshot, Tuwotahl explained. The noise draws more and more. Save your shots for an emergency. Then run for your life.

“Fair enough,” Allie said. She wandered off to the side, investigating a staff with blades at either end.

I took more of an interest in what wasn’t there. Over here, an empty space among a set of absurdly large swords. Over there, a missing warhammer, one of the smaller ones. (Tuwotahl’s? It did look small compared to these massive hunks of metal.) Which of these spaces were empty by design, and which had been claimed by failed Saviors? 

The Savior candidates’ weapons are on display in the shelter, Tuwotahl told me. A memorial for the fallen. It’s very far from here. The Shadow already found it.

“Did you just read my mind?” I asked.

She chuckled. Have no fear. I can’t receive unless you send. I followed where your eyes looked. She hefted her warhammer one-handed, like it was just a tiny stick rather than a massive metal implement. I took this from the display when the Shadow attacked. I knew the woman who used it. She was kind. She deserved better. All of them did.

“I’m sorry,” I said. I couldn’t think of what else to say.

It was fate, she said simply. I try not to get angry about it. Sometimes I fail.

In the background, I could hear Allie and Nina arguing over who would get the bladed staff. It sounded like Nina was winning. To avoid both the noise and the uncomfortable discussion, I wandered over to the projectile weapons, and Tuwotahl followed. Past the guns and the longbows, just before some kind of throwing blades, I found the other love of my life: an incredibly tiny crossbow.

“How would you even kill a zombie with this?” I asked out loud.

Poison, Tuwotahl said. Fast-acting. One shot makes them unable to move. Two or three may stop a heart.

“You can poison a zombie?” I asked.

They’re alive in a sense. Their hearts still beat. But it’s simpler to crush their skulls.

Mr. Pritchard was nearby, carefully examining a long-barreled rifle. Tuwotahl turned to say something to him, but I interrupted. “What kind of poison is it? Is it a painkiller, or something more like curare, where you’re immobile but you still feel pain? And how do you make it?”

I’ve seen the plant it’s made from, Tuwotahl told me. I could show it to you. But why would you want this tiny toy?

“It’s quiet, it’s ranged, it’s lightweight, and you said one shot can stop a zombie,” I told her. “The bolts look simple enough to make, too. I just need a ready supply of poison to make it practical. And maybe a dosage guide. Though if the goal is to kill zombies, there’s nothing inherently wrong with a high dosage . . .”

Tuwotahl was staring at me. So were Allie and Mr. Pritchard. The Church members weren’t bothered, though. They were used to me by now.

You have to understand the way I worshiped. The way to understand Rembrandt is to look at Rembrandt’s paintings. The way to understand God is to look at the world. But the world’s awfully big, and you’d have to be God yourself to understand everything in it. So I focused in on the biological and chemical actions that make living things function. And in biochemistry, I particularly loved to learn about medicine, and what substances could make you sick or repair your injuries.

This was why I wasn’t homeschooled like everyone else in the church. Father Hayes decided early on that I needed better instruction than they could provide.

You keep surprising me, Tuwotahl finally said. I’ll bring you a book of herbology. I’ll need to translate it for you.

“Thank you, Miss Tuwotahl,” I told her. I held up the crossbow. “In the meantime, is there anywhere I can practice firing this thing?”

The First Mission

We couldn’t delay long to learn how to use our weapons. Many of the school survivors had family or friends in one of the areas under attack by the zombies. One called his family, but couldn’t get an answer. Another refused to call--“What if the zombies hear it ring?” Tuwotahl was worried for our safety, of course, but Allie was determined to help, and in the early days, Tuwotahl rarely overruled her.

We chose one girl at random. I didn’t know her well, and I’ve forgotten her name. Tuwotahl let her use the shard to make a portal to her home.

Stay nearby, Tuwotahl reminded us. I can portal us out. Then she led us through the portal, and we followed.

We exited into a suburban dining room, split almost down the middle. The side we were on was torn and ransacked. There was a chair split on the floor, stained with thick black blood across the back. But the far side of the room was untouched. Whoever had fought here, there was a line they’d avoided crossing.

Allie tried to walk across the line. I didn’t understand what happened, but somehow she was turned around, walking back towards us. She turned and tried to cross again, and was turned back again. She paused for a few seconds, then slowly, slowly backstepped towards the line, and suddenly she was backstepping away from it.

No one can leave without a portal, Tuwotahl told her. Not until we kill the Shadowtouched.

Allie started to say something, but she was interrupted by a sound I’d never heard before, a sort of panting screech, like someone was trying to scream at the same time they were sobbing.

I followed it into the living room. It came from the girl who lived in the house. She was staring at the blood on the floor. Some black, most red, all dried. There was an awful lot of it. How much blood had been lost here? I didn’t think a single person could bleed this much and still live. But if there were two people, maybe both . . . no, maybe one . . . No, I was lying to myself. The girl already knew what had happened here. That’s why she was making that sound.

Most of the time, I’m good at not caring. I can remember the blood and the pain like it wasn’t real or didn’t matter. But on the bad nights, sometimes I hear that sound.

Someone else heard it, too, because through the living room window, I heard a voice begin to sing. It was low and rich, and I couldn’t understand the words. It seemed to harmonize with the girl’s sobbing.

Then it turned into a shriek of undiluted rage, and my knees buckled.

Portal! Now! Tuwotahl called.

The voice from outside was still shrieking, and the girl was shrieking with it. She’d fallen just like me, but unlike me, she wasn’t getting up. Somehow, I knew she wasn’t going to. The voice had found a pain as great as its own. It was never going to let her go.

I stumbled to the window and forced it open. There were innumerable figures standing on the grass and in the street. Most of them were rotting, bloody, or both. But my blurring vision and pounding ears could still tell there was one they were centered around, leading this demented composition.

I aimed the pocket crossbow, and I took the shot.

I meant to hit it in the chest, but I aimed too high. The bolt pierced through its throat and silenced it forever.

Tuwotahl had to carry me back to the portal. Allie carried the other girl. I wasn’t unconscious. I couldn’t process what I’d just seen and done.

The other girl stayed at the church from then on. She never went out to hunt zombies again. As for me, I was out hunting again two days later. The creatures--the people--that had done this had to be fought. Not fear nor sorrow nor the Sixth Commandment would stand in my way.