#not only was it allowed but Phantom got a slice of pie

[a-simple-complexity]

Things about the creepypasta improv thing my close friend and I have been doing since 4th or 5th grade (maybe longer):

- My character doesn't really have a cp name yet but has been around for 401 years

- My character, when not at the mansion, is roomies with JTK (and he steals cheese its)

- Vivian's (the close friend) character is close to Slenderman and has a older sister bond with Sally

- Aside from the Jeff The Cheeze Itz Snatcher gag we have more running gags

- Such as Masky locking Toby in the closet when he's annoying only to turn around and see Toby standing there.... MENACINGLY (lol)

- LJ punts Mr Widemouth across the mansion weekly

- EJ is no longer allowed to cook for others after the barbeque of 2017. We miss you, Butler Bill

- Tuesdays and Thursdays Viv's character takes pets and children out the mansion for a playdate while everyone else has some fun

- Viv's Hidden Stash of Tuna TM

- My Hidden Stash of Vodka and Rum TM

- My character might have a problem but then again immortals aren't really affected by alcohol like most mortals are

- Speaking about my character: Holy. Pets.

- They have a bunch of guard dogs (despite them all being guard dogs they are pampered like you wouldn't believe)

- Pastas respect COVID stuff. Slender ordered everyone to scatter until it's mellowed out alot. Slender caught it at some point. They say get the vaccine and wear ya damn mask.

- There's a "Community Garden". It's just a few pitcher plants, some Butterworts, a killer cow plant (courtesy of Ben pulling some strings), a small patch of wither roses (courtesy of Herobrine), and a oran berry plant (courtesy of a few poke-pastas), rose bushes, etc

- Holidays are fun too

- Christmas time is filled with my character and Viv's taking Sally, Jane, Clockwork, and Nina out for a "girls" night

- Granted Nina only gets taken along bc despite the love-hate relationship between my character and Jeff, Jeff deserves time away from Nina during the holidays at least

- Also despite Jeff hating Nina he appreciates the knives she gives him (and return he gives her some sort of card)

- Due to staying in the vents constantly and stalking everyone my character gets everyone what they think they like would like

- Christmas lights everywhere. Splendor always gets Offender to put the star on top the comically large tree just bc

- Despite it not being Christmas music, everyone listens to Hotel California by The Eagles

- and watches Christmas movies (what was that Christmas movie with Tim Allen?)

- Everyone plays in the snow. Jeff decides to start a snowball fight and Sally makes a snow man.

- Everyone wears something festive and it's normally an ugly sweater thanks to Trender

- Spiked nog anyone?

- Thanksgiving includes everyone gathering together and having fun

- A small hunting trip is planned instead of a football game (the hunt takes place the day prior bc no one wanna miss the parade)

- Sally's favorite float is the Charlie brown float

- You know how the president pardons a turkey? Slender pardons a victim (and has been doing it since meeting Viv's character bc of a joke Viv made)

- My character makes mashed potatoes or some sort of really outdated dish from the 1700's

- The Slender Bros, Viv's character, Sally, Toby, Smile Dog, Jeff, and Nina all watch the dog show after the parade

- Nina is kinda allergic to dogs and doesn't really like them but bc of her lingering obsession with Jeff she puts up with it

- Offender and Trender argue over what dog they think should have won (funny to watch to grown immortal-ass men argue over this)

- Slender carves the turkey

- The pardoned victim is allowed to stay for dinner granted a majority of memories get changed (not really erased, just changed)

- My character, Jeff, and Ben all walk through the woods before dinner and get fucking plastered (and think no one notices....everyone notices)

- the week of Thanksgiving the tree gets put up (acceptable if it's the week of Thanksgiving, any other time then it's just weird)

- My characters mom, (considered the co-founder of Hell) pops in, steals a couple slices of pie, and leaves

- Halloween is celebrated kind of like Thanksgiving and Christmas

- My character decorates the mansion with various bones

- 31 Days of Horror Movies (at some point it's decided to watch Earnest Scared Stupid and some of the serious dog lovers opt out)

- The Slender Brothers dress up as the three musketeers. Splendor is Porthos, Offender is Athos, Slender is D'artagnan and, Trender is Aramis

- Jeff and my character do a duel costume by dressing of as Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer from Cats (musical not movie, duh) alternatively they dress as Rum Tum Tugger and Mr. Mistoffelees.

- Sally dresses as Carrie or a fairy princess

- Jane, Clockwork, Nina, Viv's Character dress up as four of the five muses from Hercules (Viv changes last minute to a cat due to her character having cat ears and a cat tail)

- Toby, Masky, and Hoodie originally wanted to dress as the three musketeers but after slender took that idea they decide to dress up as separate things. Toby dresses as Masky. Masky dresses as the phantom of the opera and Hoodie is a ghost.

- Smile dog dresses as a hot dog :P

- A small hunting trip is planned and Jane and Clockwork take Sally trick or treating

- Everyone finishes the month with A Night are Before Christmas (a classic)

- Not many celebrate Valentine's day

- It's really only the Slender Bros, Viv's character, My character, Nina, Toby, Masky & Hoodie, and Sally

- and by Sally I mean she just leaves candy from the candy bowl everywhere

- Masky and Hoodie make a day of it since Slender gives them holidays off. They eat cheesecake in the woods and just spend the day together.

- Toby spends the day alone but still celebrates in his own way. Eating waffles.

- Offender (in our improv thing he's not....yeah....he's just a hopeless romantic that does consensual hook ups) and my character spend his their leaving roses out at restaurants and going to bars for hookups. They have a bunch of stuff worked out.

- Viv and Slender spend the day in bed or lounging in the living room watching some cheesy comedy.

- Trender spends the day as a self care day seeing as he's alone at the moment. Every day is self care for him but it's even more on Valentine's Day. He goes all out and even treats himself to a fancy restaurant.

- Splendor likes going to neighborhoods and leaving cute little poems on people's doors then heading to the zoo for personal time.

- Nina harasses Jeff who, in return, leaves the mansion and heads to the apartment him and my character share.

- New Years is something everyone celebrates. While some have resolutions others have new quotas they're trying to meet.

- Sally tries to stay up and watch the ball drop (she's only seen it drop twice before falling asleep)

- My character and Viv's character get shit faced

- Jeff normally sits there with a beer in one hand and Smile Dog beside him

- that's really all that consists of New Years

More about our two characters:

My character:

- a 401 year old demon thing

- in our universe hell is ran by the 7 devil's as well as my characters mother. Hells more of a city than a pit.

- Has lived with Jeff as a roommate since late 2018

- Use to be with Herobrine but broke it off with him for unknown reasons.....they're civil and still good friends. He's one of those people that could make a good boyfriend but is best as a close friend

- On their 400th birthday a crackening happened in Hell that enhanced their powers and they were hunted by Zalgo. Luckily a truce was established.

- Has been by Viv's character side since her characters soul was first created. More in Viv's Character's section

- Y'know those dogs that were talked about in the beginning? They primarily stay at their mothers mansion in Hell.

- Also all cats go to hell but they don't get hurt. They like to watch. Sometimes if you're lucky you might get a celebrity's cat. That's how my character got their lovely (and kinda douchy cat) Delilah. She likes to pee all over people's suits just bc she's like that.

- They were born in 1620 but are progressive

- Still liked fashion through the ages

- Maybe not the health damaging ones

- Is able to fly and teleport but due to back pain and migraines prefers to stay grounded and rarely use teleportation

- Doesn't actually kill much but has had souls sold to them (job as a demon....doesn't really need one though....is Crossroads Demon)

- Had a one night stand with Trender about 240ish years ago

- Does have proxies....it's those souls they take and barter around for

- Souls in hell can be used for currency depending on whether or not they sold their soul

- Anyways, was at some point known for having an obsession with chainsaws and hoodies...still has a bunch of hoodies and a chainsaw but doesn't really use them much (is more of a flannel and gun person now)

Viv's Character:

- her character managed to get everyone's favorite dwarfed rag doll cat from the internet

- Her character use to be with Entity 303 and ended up Slenderman

- that makes two of us who were with a Minecraft pasta and ended up with a slender brother lol

- I think her character is called Kat or KC so for now imma call her character Kat

- Kat has an addiction to tuna and milk

- Also has cat ears and a cat tail which are both very sensitive

- when Kat's soul was created my character was created. Even though Kat has been through many many reincarnations my character has always been alongside her. Even though my character doesn't die they act as a guardian towards Kat.

- Has a tendency to sit up in the cat walks and within the walls of the mansion alongside my character

- Gets lost in the forest from time to time and needs help getting out

- Despite being with Slender she has her own room to store her weapons and stash her plans.

- If I'm not mistaken Kat also was with Toby for a short while but doesn't talk about it much. Imagine dating your ex-lovers boss lol

- Disappears for up to a week sometimes without saying where she's going and when she comes back she acts as if nothing happened

- When both Kat and my character started living in the mansion they shared a room for about a year.

- Kat had a personal garden that was completely wiped out by Zalgo before a treaty was established and she still hasn't forgave him

- The garden mostly had marigolds and a few small plants. The only one that really mattered was Audrey the Venus fly trap.

#creepypasta #improv #jeff the killer #jane the killer #masky #hoodie #ticci toby #slender brothers #slenderman #trenderman #splendorman #herobrine #entity 303 #mr widemouth #sally williams #smile dog #zalgo #cats 1998 #mungojerrie #Rumpleteazer #nina the killer #clockwork #laughing jack #eyeless jack

[xxxdragonfucker69xxx]

seal moves in

(i dont remember if i ever posted this so im reposting it, this is from the far far future)

Seven centuries ago the Wyld washed over an entire direction in the wake of a Crusade, and it recedes slowly. Islands of lucidity jut forth like washed-up debris, either raksha playgrounds or remnants of Creation. It is here, scant miles beyond the edge of the world, that Siege Perilous looms. The sun does not reach here, though there is light; the deserts give way to paving-stones and green hills, and a hamlet in the shadow of a castle. The hamlet is empty, long abandoned by the look of it -- but surely less than seven centuries empty, when bleached banners still fly in the square intact. No, these houses were evacuated a mere five years ago, when their ancient hero finally returned to liberate them from raksha encirclement. When the castle's heir took up his rightful seat. When the Seal of Unforgotten Kings came home. A marble statue stands in the Siege's courtyard, gazing down on those who would enter the castle. In those five years, it has seen the Dusk a scant three times. 

A bottle of champagne smashed across its sunburst-crowned brow. "I hereby chrishen thish party... open!" Star declared.

Seal glowered up at him, perched on the statue's shoulder. "Get down from there," he shouted. "I wanted to fucking drink that."

Star shrugged, tossing the neck of the bottle over his shoulder and fluttering down. "Desh brought more, I think. Beshidesh, that shtuff schucksh. Gotta drink like a bucketful to get tipshy."

Des had indeed brought more; various bottles nestled in the crook of her arm, and beside her a white-haired boy labored under what appeared to be picnic baskets laden so high they obscured his face. Des clicked her tongue at him. "You know you don't have to carry all that, Sever," she said. "I could have got a ghost to do it."

Shoulders shrugged carefully on either side of the tower. "I don't mind," a basket at face height replied. Severed Tail of the Serpent Resembles Truth By its Writhing carefully adjusted the tower, distributing the weight more evenly, and continued on his way. Behind him, Des frowned and followed.

+++

Seal flung the castle doors open. "Honey, we're home," he shouted, emboldened by the presence of his friends. The empty hall echoed it back to him, white dust swirling in the corners from the sudden breeze.

Take this seriously, a voice said in his head. Seal could see him out of the corner of his eye: the spitting image of the statue outside, standing ramrod-straight and two heads taller than Seal, running a finger across the breastplate of a nearby suit of armor. Brightest Morning Star frowned at Seal. Is this any way to treat your domicile? The inheritance of centuries?

"Shut the fuck up, old man," Seal muttered through gritted teeth. "You're not even real."

Realer than your cleaning skills, the man responded before Star breezed through the space where he should have been standing. "Scho, where do you want thisch?" he said, louder than usual and brandishing a pilfered bottle of Shadow's brandy. He was pointedly not making eye contact, and Seal recognized that he had heard him talking to his preincarnation.

He flushed with anger. "Do I look like I give a shit?" he snapped. "We're gonna desecrate every fucking room in this castle, I didn't make a fucking itinerary." 

Schtar shrugged and moved on, sweeping his gaze around the castle -- probably doing that dumb Investigation shit again. "Oh, here we go," he said, opening a door. "Big ol' dining hall, kitschen muscht be thish way. C'mon, let'sh shee if they got schomefing to toasht thish bread with." He disappeared into the darkness, and the other Deathknights followed suit.

Brightest Morning Star reappeared in front of Seal, a phantom wind blowing away the nothingness that obscured him. You haven't picked up after yourself since the last time you were here, he reminded the boy disapprovingly. Or the time before that. You could at least sweep up some wreckage before they see. 

Seal grabbed an ornamental vase and flung it at the apparition. It sailed through empty air and smashed against the floor. "Fuck you!" he shouted at the silent hall, but images assailed him behind his eyelids: ruined tapestries with the faces singed away, spears with the hafts snapped in half and buried in discarded shields, the remnants of Seal's last tantrum here. The vast mural of stained glass he knelt before, unable to destroy it, unable to look directly at his predecessor's face. Seal swiped the back of his hand across his eyes, wiping away hot tears. He flung the red droplets on the floor. "Fine!" he declared angrily. "I'll go do your dumb fucking chores. Bitch."

Broom's in the upstairs closet, if it hasn't rotted away, Brightest Morning Star sniped from inside his mind.

+++

The broom was not in the upstairs closet.

Seal stared at the rack where it should have lay, where his-and-not-his memories pictured it beside the dustpan, which was also gone. "Hey, old man," he called out. "Are you fucking senile or did you just have servants do all your shit for you? Don't know where your own goddamn broom is?"

No response. Seal slammed the closet shut, and it rattled the frame pleasingly. "What the fuck now?" he asked out loud. Did someone break into the castle and steal his fucking broom? Glorious First Light loomed in the back of his mind. What if, by taking it from the castle, he'd left it vulnerable?

"Shit, shit, shit," he muttered, and broke into a run. Seal might have hated all this fucking stuff, but it was his fucking stuff. The treasury was filled with priceless First Age artifacts and also a bunch of stuff he'd smashed to pieces, and if some raksha bastard even fucking thought about fucking touching it --

Seal skidded to a halt. There was no raksha bastard. The treasury door was open, and as far as Seal could tell everything was in place. Except for the story crystals he'd smashed to pieces last time he was here, and had left scattered across the floor. As far as Seal could tell, there wasn't even a splinter of crystal on the floor, though their spots on the shelves remained empty.

What the fuck? Seal spun around. The sword he'd bent in half was gone as well, replaced with a completely different one -- a jian instead of a dao. The row of statuettes was artfully arranged to hide the ones Seal had beheaded. Even the trophy case Seal had cut in half was standing straight. He ventured over and tapped a finger against it.

It crashed down -- someone had merely shoved the two halves together so neatly Seal hadn't spotted the join. The noise startled him, and he jumped back -- and, out of the corner of his eye, saw movement. "Hey!" he cried reflexively, and pursued. The castle was a maze of halls and display cases and rooms full of junk, but whoever Seal was chasing seemed to know it like the back of their hand -- Seal only caught a flicker of movement, a flap of cloth disappearing around a corner. "Stop fucking running, bastard!" he shouted, and hurled Glorious First Light.

The spear blasted a crater in the wall at the end of the corridor, coming to rest buried a full hand into the stone -- and a hair's breadth from Des' face, where she was coming around the corner. "Who are you yelling at?" she asked, unflapped, stepping back and tucking her hair back behind her ears. "There's no one here." 

Seal came to a stop with one foot up against the wall, trying to yank the weapon out. "Some -- fucker -- stole my broom," he said, grunting. "And cleaned my fucking treasury." 

Des raised an eyebrow in amusement. "Stole your broom and not your hoard of ancient and extremely valuable relics?" she asked. "And... swept with it? Surely you should be thanking them." 

"I don't know what they fucking did," Seal grumbled. He pulled one last time and finally pulled the spear free, which meant that boy and weapon went tumbling head over heels. From his new position on the floor, Seal swore loudly and freely.

Des' eyes sparked with laughter as she helped Seal to his feet. "Well, if you think the mystery can wait for an hour or two, Star has managed to warm up the pie. Without any slime involved."

"Pie," Seal said fervently, and forgot about the broom entirely.

+++

The pie was burnt. The sandwiches were dry. The brandy tasted like shit. Seal enjoyed the hell out of it all.

They had left the great hall dark and empty and chosen to eat in the kitchen instead. It was cozy, gathered around the slab in the center while the fire blazed in the stove. Des had found a fork and knife; Star and Seal were eating with their hands. Seal wasn't sure Sever was eating at all, but every time he looked there was less food on the plate, so he guessed he must be. Also, Seal was drunk. 

"Sol's own fucking cock," he said, wiping his mouth. "This stuff really fucking tastes like a rat's ass." He slammed the empty glass down on the table and motioned for Des to pour him another shot. "But damn if it doesn't fucking do you."

Star's giggle broke into hiccups. "How do you know what a rat'sh assh tashtesh like?" he managed to slur out. "Eat a lot of rat asshesh in your schildhood?"

"Not as many as your fucking mom," Seal shot back. Star gasped, actually offended, but Sever distracted him with a slice of pie and Seal gloated silently at getting the last word. 

"So," Des said, pouring herself another glass of rose, which Star and Seal weren't allowed to touch (Sever had a small cupful in front of him). "What sort of magnificent things have you got in this castle anyways?"

Seal shrugged around a mouthful of burger (helpfully prepared by Pho ahead of time). "Treasury mostly," he replied. "I raided the armory but there's a bunch more shit in there. Like five fucking rooms full of random junk. East tower's full of little glass things, no idea what they do. Library, chapel, hangar --"

"--hanger?" Star piped up. "Like a big clothesh hanger?"

"I believe Seal means a hangar," Sever cut in smoothly. "Where First Age flying vessels are often stored."

Star's jaw hung open, comically filled with half-mashed mince. "You got airschipsh?"

A grin spread across Seal's face. "Hey, Star. Betcha can't fly faster than a First Age warbird."

"Betscha can't hit me in the air with a Firscht Age warbird," Star countered, and they were off.

+++

This is not the intended use of a warbird.

"Can't hear you over the sound of this fucking warbird!" Seal shouted, over the sound of this fucking warbird. 

These are holy weapons of war, not children's toys!

"Eat my fucking ass," Seal answered hotly, pulling back on the harness-gloves. The warbird responded, thirty thousand pounds of ancient magic carefully yoked to steel and fire, made to cut through behemoths like wet paper. Currently, Seal was trying to keep Star in his sights, though the winged Day Caste was swooping erratically through the air above the Siege Perilous. 

At the very least you could shoot him down, Brightest Morning Star replied a little petulantly. It's commendable how quickly you've picked up the controls, but we both know it's really my hand at the helm. Show me what you can do.

Seal waved a hand dismissively, which caused the warbird to spin alarmingly through the air. "I'm not gonna kill him," he responded when the aircraft was back under control. "Just wanna show off a little."

Oh, and smashing a warbird into him at a hundred miles an hour won't kill him?

"He's got Resistance Charms," Seal said, squinting as he finally lined Star up in the center of his sights -- "He'll probably be fine." -- and rammed the throttle forwards. 

The warbird's skeleton, Seal vaguely remembered his preincarnation vaguely remembering, was made of orichalcum and jade inlaid with starmetal. But all the architectural parts were mundane steel, so it really should have been no surprise when the warbird intercepted Star with a sickening crunch and the nose of the warbird crumpled inwards, Star's body tearing through it like a cannonball and rocketing backwards past Seal's head. Seal whooped even as the warbird began blaring new alarm sirens; orichalcum and steel versus soulsteel and Abyssal, it was no contest.

I hope you're happy with yourself, Brightest Morning Star spat. Try not to land on my best roses.

The ground rose to meet Seal, and everything went black.

+++

When he came to, he was on fire.

Seal yelped and struggled out of the warbird's cockpit, slapping at himself all over. Half his shirt had burned away, and the right leg of his pants tore off entirely as he snagged it on something falling out of the cockpit. The flame didn't blacken his skin like it should have, but it still stung like a bitch, so Seal spent a good minute rolling on the ground and loosing a barrage of curses.

"Having fun?" a voice asked from nearby. Seal righted himself to find Des sitting at a glass table, teacup in hand. They were in the castle's courtyard, though Seal could see a smouldering streak on the roof where the warbird must have caught it on the way down; empty flowerbeds surrounded them, organizing the courtyard in a geomantically auspicious pattern. Seal could remember every flower that had bloomed here once, the perfected Essence they had channeled. None of them were the black roses spilling out where Bloodthorn was planted blade-down in the soil.

"Practically dust," Des said, setting down her teacup and running a hand over the dirt. "Haven't been watered in two thousand years. Still, there's life in these old things yet." She fondled a rose, heedless of the thorns. Seal was dimly aware that she was making a point, and decided not to care. 

"Where's Star?" he demanded. "Fucker owes me fifty yen."

Des shrugged. "He landed over there," she said, indicating a point over Seal's shoulder. He turned to see a divot gouged into the earth, and at the end a pair of craters he had come to associate with the Wings. "Then he got up, mumbled something about his bones, and limped away. Sever was preparing a party in the chapel, so I think he went there to lie down." Seal lit up and turned to go, but Des caught his hand. "Listen, Seal," she said, her voice lower. "Honestly. How are you feeling?"

A butterfly fluttered down to land on a rose. Vibrant blue shimmered against velvet black.

"Weird, honestly," Seal admitted. He came back to flop down into a chair opposite Des. "It's like.... he's still here, obviously, but this place isn't his anymore. It's mine. But he keeps trying to be me, or I keep trying to be him." He grunted in frustration at not having the words, but Des hummed softly and nodded.

"It's complicated," she agreed. "Hard to tell what's you and what isn't. And everything hurts in every direction. You know," she said, saving Seal the awkwardness of having to reply, "you should try talking to Sever sometime. You've got a lot in common."

Seal scoffed. "Sever?" he said scornfully. "I love the guy, but he's got more in common with a filing cabinet than a human being."

Des hummed again. "You might say that. Just as he might say you've got more in common with your spear than with any of us." Seal's anima burst into darkness, but Des laid her hand on his -- gently, communicating her calm. "Exactly," she said. "Exactly." 

Seal grumbled and withdrew his power. "Fine," he said. "Let's go see about this fucking party.

+++

They found Sever and Star in the chapel. Star was laying on a pew, an arm over his eyes, still smoking slightly. The Wings had sawed a hole in the back of the pew so they could drape dejectedly onto the floor. Sever was sitting on the floor, a scroll of parchment rolled out down the center aisle. Seal limped closer to discover that Sever was making exactly the itinerary he hadn't made: a room-by-room schedule that spanned the entire night. 

"Sol fucking Invictus," Seal muttered. "Did you hand write four fucking copies of the same schedule?"

"It is not the same schedule," Sever explained, handing them out. "These also contain personalized information such as alcohol preferences and sleeping arrangements. But, yes."

Des took her itinerary with interest. "My, Sever, this is.... very thought out. You've placed yourself on a team with Seal for chicken?" 

Seal thought he saw the shadow of a blush cross Sever's face. "Star has an advantage because of his wings and Seal has one because of his Caste, so I thought your style of motion would complement Star's best." Des nodded thoughtfully. 

"Yeah! We're gonna fucking kick your assh at schicken!" Star called from the pew, where he was now face down. "Juscht asch shoon asch my fasche shtopsh being on fire."

"You owe me a hundred yen, by the fucking way," Seal called back. Star grumbled and fished around in his pockets for a minute, then flipped him a koku and muttered for him to keep the schange. Seal pocketed it and glared around the room darkly. Colored crystal occupied the entire wall behind the podium, depicting Brightest Morning Star with four arms driving his spear down the throat of a serpentine raksha. There was no sun above Siege Perilous, yet Brightest Morning Star's face shone as though the sun were shining through it. Seal exchanged glares with it for a minute before looking away. "Do we have to fucking start here, though?" he muttered. "I hate this fucking room."

Sever looked down with a frown, pen already in hand, but Des caught his hand before he could start writing. "That's exactly why we're starting here," she said. "I've brought some supplies I think you might enjoy." She reached into a basket and pulled out a small silvery cylinder, with a bump at one end, and handed it to Seal. "Hold it like this," she instructed, "twist that nozzle, and press down. No, hold it the other way --"

A hideous shade of yellow-green filled Seal's vision, and he reflexively flared his anima. As Essence blasted outwards from his body his eyes cleared, and he could see that a faint cloud of that color was still hanging in the air, except for what had been blasted away and was now coating the carpet. Des sighed. "It's paint," she said. "You spray it on the walls and it stays there just about forever. I thought you might like to personalize the wall over there." She indicated Brightest Morning Star's shining disgusting face, and Seal grinned.

"Wake up, Star," he said. "Let's commit some fucking art."

+++

They defaced the chapel. They had a mock war in the armory. Seal let Des raid the library for all she could carry, then they built book forts and launched dictionaries across the room (Cascade of Papercut Terror made its debut to thunderous applause). They got scandalously, outrageously, rip-roaringly drunk in the wine cellars, which were full of booze that must have made even a First Age god-king's constitution take pause. They sang extremely rude songs in the courtyard, and did somersaults on every bed in every bedroom. The castle filled with laughter and dust. 

Eventually, though, even the most powerful of Exalted wear themselves out. Des found a glory-crystal saga in the library, the dramatization of some First Age romance-battle, and they set up in the great hall to watch. The deathknights bundled themselves up with blankets pilfered from the master room and scarfed down candied berries from the pantry. For something produced in a golden age of magic and science, the reenactment was laughably bad, and they spent a pleasant hour flinging critiques and berries at the projection. "Come on, haven't theshe guysh ever shtabbed anyone in the back?" Star shouted. "Thish ish the worsht fucking form I've ever sheen!"

"Completely horrendous," Des agreed as she popped another berry in her mouth. "But she deserves it. My god, anything to make her shut up for a second."

Seal stretched his arms out and yawned. "She talks more than Shadow fucking does when he's trying to justify his dumb shit as extremely wise fucking shit." He glanced around the room. "Hey, quick question. Where the fuck is Sever?"

Star diverted his gaze to scan the room for a moment. "Guessh he shtepped out for a minute," he said. "Maybe he couldn't shtomach the schitty shpeschial effectsh."

"Seriously, Sculpted Seafoam Eidolon is a Terrestrial spell, would it fucking kill them to put some effort in?"

"I'm gonna go find him," Seal declared, standing up and wobbling momentarily from the Exalted-level alcohol in his system. "Nobody gets to miss this shit." 

Des shrugged. "Whatever you say."

+++

Seal found Sever watching the ocean. 

The window at the end of the west hall, Seal knew, looked out onto a perpetually stormy sea with grey skies. Seal knew this cause he was pretty sure there was no fucking sea near Siege Perilous, and had been about to smash through the window and check it out before Brightest Morning Star yelled at him not to. He was never sure if it was a portal to some real sea in Creation or just an illusion, or maybe something else entirely.

Sever was curled up in the windowsill, head turned sideways to stare out over the roiling black waves. Seal thought for sure he would hear him coming up, but Sever was so lost in thought that he didn't notice until Seal tapped him on the shoulder. Only Seal's keenly honed battle senses let him notice the instant of reflexive tension before Sever returned to perfect relaxation and turned to face Seal serenely. "Ah, Seal," he said, sounding professional as ever. "How are you enjoying the festivities?"

Seal snorted. "You kidding?" he asked, moving to sit in the opposite end of the windowsill. "This is the best fucking birthday bash I've had in..... uh, ever. So fucking cheers to you." He mimed raising a glass, and Sever smiled faintly.

"Well," he said, rising smoothly, "I won't obstruct you, then. Continue to enjoy your evening --"

"Whoa, whoa, slow the fuck down," Seal said, catching Sever's wrist and feeling again that reflexive tense. "Where the hell are you going?"

Sever waved a hand vaguely. "To clean," he said, not resisting Seal's pull but not giving in. "The kitchen should be scoured, and though I understand the art in the chapel is to be a permanent fixture I'd like to sharpen up the edges and cover some of the more fragile --"

"Hang the fuck on," Seal said, as his brain finally caught up with what Sever was saying. "Was that you earlier, that cleaned up the fucking armory and then ran the fuck away like some kind of freak? What did you do that for? How did you know there was shit in there?" Sever looked like he was trying to answer every question at once, but Seal didn't let him get a word in edgewise. "For fuck's sake, dude, we brought you here to have fun, not to be some weird shadow with a broom. Live a little! Have some fucking fun, man!"

"As a matter of fact, Seal, I am enjoying myself. In my own way." Sever sounded slightly put off by Seal's enthusiasm.

Seal scoffed. "Bull fucking shit you are."

Sever blinked. "Excuse me?"

"I said bull fucking shit on a rat's hot cock you're having fun. You think I don't know angst brooding when I see it?" Seal gestured out over the waters. "Dude, I brood here all the time. It's, like, my number three spot in the castle. Stare at the fucking ocean and think about death or whatever. Right?" he demanded.

Sever blinked again, more slowly. ".... something like that," he admitted after a long pause.

"Something fucking like that," Seal agreed. "Well, bullshit to fucking that. I'm not allowed to brood tonight, and neither are fucking you. No more cleaning either. Des can summon some ghosts in the morning."

"But I'm perfectly capable of --"

"-- of sitting your ass down and acting like a human being, you jackass!" Seal was surprised by the force of his own words. "Sol Invictus, it fucking wigs me out sometimes, you know that?" A mixture of emotions crossed beneath the surface of Sever's face. "I know you are, even if you fucking don't. Yeah, you don't know who you fucking are, your soul was eaten or what the fuck ever, big fucking deal. None of us knows a goddamn fucking thing about ourselves, and do you think it's ever stopped me? Come on," he demanded, suddenly rising to his feet and striding down the hall, Sever still in tow.

"Where are we -- I really must protest --"

Seal dragged Sever all the way to the treasury, scooped a shelf-ful of glass figurines into Sever's protesting arms, and then back into the chapel. "Right," he said, taking the figurines from Sever and setting them on the floor in front of him. "Got your sword with you?"

"Unfortunately," Sever said, "I was not allowed to bring Atrumarkinos on this expedition."

Seal rolled his eyes. "Good," he said. "You'd be too good with it anyways. Here," and in a single motion he summoned Glorious First Light and brought it crashing down on the back of the pew.

Sever flinched so hard Seal thought he might actually leave his body. "What are you doing?" he asked, so pointedly that Seal could almost consider it a shout.

"Improvising," Seal answered, pulling at a bar of wood off the back of the pew. He had to stand on it with one foot and wrench it off with both hands, and only Essence saved him from a fistful of splinters, but in the end he was left with a plank about half as tall as Sever was. He handed it to the bemused Day Caste, returned to his spot, and held up a figurine. "Right. What can you tell me about these?"

Sever peered at it from across the room. "First Age artifice is not my forte, but I believe they are similar to a lesser form of yasal crystal. Each imprisons a minor spirit, hardly greater than the god of a grain of rice. I cannot say what purpose such a least spirit could serve. Perhaps simply to retain a memory, and recount it when charged?"

Seal squinted down at the figurine in his hand, a little statuette of Brightest Morning Star with spear overhead. "Really? Huh." Now that Sever mentioned it, there did appear to be a little light flickering in the middle of it. Seal looked back up, tossing it in his hand to gauge its weight. "Well, I guess you're not wrong. But you're also totally wrong. The only fucking thing these things are good for," he said, winding up, “is for smashing.”

Sever flinched a good ten seconds before the figurine smashed against the wall behind him. A wisp of glowing smoke rose up and whispered in a tinny voice before dissipating. "Come on!" Seal shouted. "I know you have Melee, hit it with your fucking thing!"

"I do not believe this is safe, Seal," Sever called with rising urgency as he ducked another figurine.

"Safety is for fucking cowards!" Seal bellowed as he began to throw them with increasing speed. "Stop dodging and break some shit like a man!"

He had to admit, though, that Sever's evasive skills were impressive. Seal was putting some Essence into his throws now, trying to peg Sever in the arm or leg, and normally would have guessed there was no power that could stop him -- but whatever was driving Sever, fear or common sense, animated him like a madman and kept him just slightly faster than Seal's projectiles. A luminescent haze rose from the floor at Sever's feet, miniature gods dissipating into the ether. And then Seal saw the change come over him. To his adrenaline-charged senses, it seemed to happen in slow motion: Sever' feet squared against the stone, back foot braced and front foot pointed. His spine, usually painfully upright, bent like a coiled snake; purpose set his shoulders and tensed his arms. The crack of glass against the wood echoed throughout the chapel, and Seal could have sworn it was the most beautiful sound in the world, just before the spray of glass ricocheted back and stabbed him in the face.

Sever dropped the plank like it was red-hot and hurried over to where Seal was rolling on the floor, hands clutched to his face, making a sound like a dying elephant. "Are you alright?" he asked frantically, trying to hold Seal still long enough to assess the damage. "I'll get Des, maybe she can moliate something --"

Seal grabbed at Sever's shoulders. "That -- was -- fucking -- brilliant!" he shouted, and confusion replaced fear as Sever realized Seal was laughing. Blood dripped down his face, from cuts of glass and from his caste mark. "Yes! That's what I'm fucking talking about! You're a fucking natural!" Seal laughed, pumping a fist in the air with elation. 

+++

Des and Star found them another half hour later, the crystal-saga having ended on a cliffhanger. It was the sound that drew them to the chapel: sounds of shattering glass, splintering wood, and laughter -- a laugh they had never heard before. Des rounded the corner first, then threw out an arm to stop Star and backpedaled hurriedly. "Look," she whispered, so Star stuck his head around the corner to look, and what he saw made his jaw drop.

Seal was standing at the far end of the chapel, piles of glass figurines around him. He was hurling the shards overhand at Sever, who was standing with his back to the chapel's entrance, holding.... a broken-off piece of wood? And was, unerringly, smashing every figurine as it sailed towards him, even when he had to jump to catch it or dive before it hit the floor. Unerringly, the spray of glass flew back towards Seal, who appeared to be playing a game of how long he could wait before hiding behind the pulpit. Blood speckled the wall of crystal behind him, though only Star's Essence-enhanced senses could pick that up. But he didn't need Essence to identify the unidentifiable noise.

Both Sever and Seal were laughing.

#sanctuary in black #i wrote this for hgs birthday.... and then missed like the next three birthdays

[avasilvugh]

Karolina + 3, 5, 8, 22

oh u just went right for some angst huh

3.  Scars or painful spots

she has a scar on her ribcage from her fight with jonah

it’s hardly raised, blends in with the rest of her skin for the most part, but sometimes she catches sight of it in the mirror and feels sick.  sometimes she sees it and she needs to just.  sit down for a moment.  take a deep breath.  remember that she isn’t scary like him.  remember that she is loved.

sometimes it gets hard to remember that stuff when she sees it or when nico skims her hand along it when they’re lying together.  sometimes when that happens, she has to roll away, put some distance between them if only just for a minute, just long enough for her to bite back the feeling of revulsion that creeps up the back of her throat.  nico never lets her go far, though, reaching out across the bed for her hand

(post season 2) she has a scar that runs up her back from her rescue.  she’s not exactly sure when she got it - whether it was when she was taken or sometime during her captivity or during the actual rescue, but weeks later nico sees her without a shirt on for the first time since before she was taken

sometimes it hurts.  she might have fucked up some nerves or something, or maybe its muscle memory, or maybe its phantom pain.  maybe it’s her body’s way of remembering.  maybe it’s saying you’re not okay.  you’re not okay.

when she tells nico this one night, months later, when she’s laying on her stomach with a hot water bottle pressed against her back to loosen the tense muscles there.  nico doesn’t say anything for a while.  for a long while.  then - 

“no.  you’re not.  none of us are.”  karolina doesn’t respond.  nico adds, “we might never be again.”  some more silence.  “but we’re trying.  we’re still here.  you’re still here.  that’s good enough for me.”

karolina turns to look at her, to see how the weak light of the bedside table casts her face in shadow and light, sharp angles and smooth curve.  “yeah,” she agrees finally.  “i think it might be for me too.”

and this is more of an emotional painful spot, really, but it’s never been addressed in canon and it bugs me

karolina doesn’t do parties.  she just doesn’t.  she’ll go with the rest of her friends, she’ll gamely hold a red solo cup, but she won’t drink, won’t dance, and won’t wander far from the group.  she gets rlly antsy if they start to separate, or if gert goes off to the kitchen when the rest are in the living room, or if molly goes to play beer pong in the backyard, or if nico steps out front for air.  the boys she worries about, but its a little less urgent, a little less pressing.  she doesn’t feel fear for them pressing into her chest the way she does for the girls.

she doesn’t talk about it.  in fact, she kind of refuses to - refuses to consider what almost happened, what might have happened.  she won’t put a name to it.  but she makes it a point to stay level headed, clear eyed, and with a good vantage point of the room

chase figures it out at some point, connects that night with the way he notices karolina’s watchful eyes tracking molly and gert on the dance floor.  he takes up a post beside her, doesn’t say anything.  it’s enough.

5.  Guilty pleasures 

oh a truly horrifying amount of pie.  like genuinely.  when she goes to pick up the order at the bakery, they send her along with maybe twenty pairs of utensils and a whole stack of napkins, but based on the worried look the girl working the counter gives her, no one that works there is under any illusion that karolina won’t be consuming the entire stack of pies over the course of the next 36 hours.  her sweet tooth is truly astounding

on another note: nico and molly are rlly the only two that are allowed a slice of pie from her hoard.  and even that is given under duress

its not fair that molly can make her chin wobble just a teeny bit and karolina caves instantly

its even less fair for nico to look at her like that and for anyone to expect karolina to have any backbone left at all

 shitty gay media

im talking the cheese fest that you start watching when you’re getting desperate for something gay.  im talking the objectively poorly produced movies that you watched when u were first starting to think oh hm am i maybe...........Gay.  im talking the shows that were largely just subtext but that you, a baby gay, latched onto anyway

when karolina has a very bad week or something particularly awful happens that makes her heart hurt in old, familiar ways, most of the runaways know that karolina doesn’t like being seen like that.  they know to allow her to stay tucked away, hidden up in her room and away from the fray.  she doesn’t like people seeing her with anything less than a mega-watt smile on her face and, while she’s getting better about being comfortable showing a more vulnerable side of herself, she still falls back on old habits when she’s particularly sad or hurting

on days like that, nico can find her curled up in their bed with her laptop, watching episode 4 of warehouse 13 or something

“hey.”

“hey.”

“do you......want to talk about it?”

and karolina won’t answer.  she’ll just reach out her arms, the oversized sleeves of the thrift-store hoodie actually longer and giving her sweater paws and making her look heart-wrenchingly adorable, and nico will crawl up next to her and settle in, biting back her groans at whatever movie karolina queues up next

8.  Bad memories/experiences 

answered here!

22.  People who’ve influenced them greatly 

okay.  hear me out. 

her mother.  it’s - it’s difficult to reconcile it after everything she learns, but her mother is one of the biggest influences on her life and her choices.  

karolina has a very solid foundation, something that shores up her confidence and, for the most part, withstands the pressure of being ostracized in high school and the relative isolation of questioning her sexuality.  and frank was kind of a good dad when karolina was small - he wasn’t around much because he was filming.  when his career petered out, he was around more, but he was still distant to a degree.  she loved spending time with him and adored it when he was around, but he was desperate for recognition and parenting is a thankless job.  frank dean doesn’t really do thankless jobs.

leslie was similarly distant sometimes, but when she was around, it was clear that there was nowhere else she’d rather be.  when she was around, her world very quickly reoriented, making karolina the center of it.  why else would karolina be so dedicated to the church?  yes she believed, but more importantly she believed in her mother.

leslie taught her kindness, ironically.  she taught her compassion.  she taught her to care for her friends passionately, to care for the world passionately.  it’s hard for karolina to separate her anger and betrayal and honest to god fear from those lessons, but she has to.  she’ll eat herself alive if she doesn’t.

#runaways #karolina dean #i love my daughter she's a mess sometimes but i love her #nicoandkarolina #human interaction

[itsworn]

The Four-Bar Full Monty: Art Morrison’s Rear Clip for AD Chevys

Back in the good old days of my youthful ignorance (the youth is long gone, but …), the local muffler shop was the first stop on my “to do” list with every old truck I acquired: first and foremost, the sound (dual glasspacks); then the required suspension mods (torching the springs). If it didn’t rap just right or nearly rip the rear bumper off coming in and out of driveways, it wasn’t good enough to drive yet. Obviously, those priorities had nothing to do with safety, or performance for that matter.

Thirty-some years later, the only thing a torch is used for these days is cutting old rear suspensions “out” (however, the muffler man is still visited on occasion for those same duals!). Leaf springs serve(d) their purpose, but aren’t well-suited for many modern classic truck applications. So, what is better suited? Well, it all depends on not only your application, but the various features (ride height, wheel/tire choice, exhaust) as well as the manner in which the truck is driven. Excluding the adjustable suspension category, you have three main options: four-link, two-link/trailing arm, and four-bar; each adjustable setup keeps the rearend centered and sets pinion angle/prevents roll, but unlike the leafs they’re replacing, do not support the weight of the truck, thus the necessity of using coilovers.

All arguments aside, when it comes to your everyday old truck, a parallel four-bar is the best suited option all around. For one, the four-bar provides excellent ride qualities and handling characteristics. But just as important, its parallel configuration with shorter arms allows more room for exhaust/fuel tank/and so on than either of the other two options, not to mention is the least likely to require bed floor or wheeltub modifications (keep in mind, a Panhard bar has to be used with four-bars). But there’s still one last decision to be made—which particular four-bar kit should you use?

Among all the various companies (and online outlets re-branding/re-packaging those companies’ parts) that manufacture quality four-bar kits, Art Morrison Enterprises (AME) is definitely one you can trust. How can you go wrong when you’ve got hot rodders running a hot rod parts manufacturing business? All the years of the Morrison’s personal hands-on driving experience (street and track) goes into all the R&D work behind each suspension kit, especially AME’s weld-in four-bar setups. They also take things a bit further with their complete 4-Bar Rear Clip, for which they offer for the 1947-1953 Chevy half-tons, as per customer custom orders. With the rear clip option, setting up the suspension is already taken care of—you simply weld the fabricated clip assembly onto your frame, bolt everything in, center your rearend/adjust pinion angle, and off you go. Adding a pre-fabbed AME rear clip is also a great way to ensure your truck’s chassis is square and true from the cab to the rear bumper.

So, since he’s always looking for something to fill his free time on the weekends with, we talked our Tech Center Manager Jason Scudellari into scrapping the old homemade “four-rod” on his 1949 Chevy and installing an AME Rear Clip. When he added up the benefits versus fixing all the issues with his old setup (bent frame, non-parallel upper bars, uneven brackets, binding shocks), no sooner was a phone call made to AME, an order placed, the Sawzall fired up, and his 3100’s framerails ready for a new rear!

Without going into too much photo “graphic” detail, here’s what the old four-rod setup looked like in Scudellari’s 1949 Chevy: though it had served him well (i.e., not caused any major accidents), it was time for an upgrade. Enter the Art Morrison 4-Bar Rear Clip.

As ordered per Scudellari’s specs, AME’s complete 4-Bar Clip (with performance adjustable sway bar and Johnny joint upgrade) includes a ready-to-load narrowed 9-inch housing, four-bar setup, and Panhard—all contained within their CAD-designed 2×4 rear subframe with pre-engineered, properly configured, and aligned crossmembers and bracketry. The single-adjustable Phantom series coilovers came directly from Aldan.

First thing Scudellari did was to mark and level the rear subframe assembly’s territory (where it would sit when the stock frame is lined up once it’s ready to be conjoined permanently).

Using the 3100 series stock wheelbase (116 inches) and subtracting the length of the AME clip, Scudellari located and cut where the joint would be made, using a piece of square tube as a “straight” guide for his Sawzall blade.

Along with his ’rails “popping” out once the stock rear section was cut loose (Scudellari now knows a lateral brace would’ve helped), the bent passenger-side ’rail showed its ugly face. Scudellari mended that by fixturing and pie-slicing the C-channel frame section back into alignment.

Once he’d gotten everything straightened out, the ’rail was fully welded up—and the area in which the repair was done will get boxed in, so there won’t be any integral strength compromise.

Still waiting patiently in its little blue-tape box, the AME rear clip is just a few steps away from being mated up to the 68-year-old severed framerails. First, all eight corners (truck and subframe) are rechecked and re-squared as the two portions are aligned together.

Large C-clamps and square tubing are used to support the frame sections old and new. You’ll notice that AME’s framerail height is a tad bit taller than stock (not all early truck frames are the same height); Scudellari kept the lower edge flush while leaving the top taller to fill with weld and conceal with the bed.

With everything properly aligned, leveled, squared, straightened, and all that jazz, two were united as one preliminarily (the C-channel to square-tube joint will be further strengthened, as you will see).

To add internal gusset support, Scudellari cut two sections of plate and welded them internally between the two sections of frame, which he then rosette-welded from the exterior, as shown.

And to better tie in the inside portions, he cut two more plates to box the stock framerails form the AME clip forward.

Instead of reusing the stock shackled rear cab mounts, Scudellari opted to use AME’s solid perches offered with their complete chassis.

After the subframe is fully welded and the truck’s frame is one solid/square unit again, Scudellari completes the full 166-inch wheelbase by fitting and welding the bumper bracket mount ends and rearmost crossmember.

Now, the suspension assembly and adjustment fun begins. As previously mentioned, Scudellari ordered the upgraded Johnny joint rod ends (polyurethane is supplied standard), which are serviceable (greased) and aren’t as audibly noticeable as poly bushings can sometimes be.

The Panhard bar, mounted at axle height rather than above the rearend, serves its intended lateral support, but also doesn’t pose any clearance issues as it would mounted above.

The post The Four-Bar Full Monty: Art Morrison’s Rear Clip for AD Chevys appeared first on Hot Rod Network.

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