#I’m shoving so many boiled eggs into this dog you have no idea

[along-the-devils-backbone]

Tw: ED, Tw: Weight loss, tw: self-harm (?)

I'm tired of being huge. I'm tired of being the "wrong shape". I look at other girls that are my size and bigger -- beautiful people that I admire and have helped me so much in my self-love journey... and I see them and realize we're not even shaped the same.

I feel like I would give anything to be a pear-shape. A decent waist, and round hips... but instead, I have a fucking "B" belly, where it looks like I wore my jeans too tight & all my fat deformed into two bellies instead of one... Shirts cling to my upper belly and make me look like i'm smuggling two pool noodles around my waist at all times. High-waisted pants make me look like Tweedle-Dee. If i turn sideways, I look like a really sad floppy caramel apple with the stick shoved all the way through both sides.

I hate it. I hate me.

I've been trying so so hard lately to not hate myself. To work on my confidence and love my body. Some days I can look down and think "wow, i'm so soft. I'm so warm. I can't wait for Adrian to lay his head on my belly and nap." but more often that not lately, I see myself in mirrors and think "Holy fuck, what the fuck was I thinking?? This looks bad. REALLY bad."

And this week... This week got REALLY bad.

We're house-sitting for my MIL and in the 17 years i've been with Jim, her bathroom has been the bane of my existence. Floor-to-Ceiling mirrors line 3 out of 4 walls. BRIGHT fucking lights. I get to see every bad angle of myself in fucking hi-def 4d 1080p. Every roll, every imperfection, every weird dimple... And you can't just... NOT look. It's everywhere. I spend my entire time using the toilet/shower staring at her ugly pink flooring wishing I was literally anywhere else. I can't even walk PAST the bathroom, because the door is always open (so the dog can use her potty pads bc she's old) and i'll catch myself in the mirror, not thinking.

It feels like being drop-kicked by surprise every time I have to fetch something from the bedroom or go pee...

It's gotten so bad though, I feel like every step i've taken towards loving myself, has been undone. Like a bigass house of cards, it just came tumbling the fuck down and i've no idea how to begin rebuilding it.

I tried today, to dress up. To challenge myself & wear something I hadn't worn in public yet, because I saw so many plus-sized goddesses on tiktok trying it, and i thought "I'm going to do that. I'm going to dress up in this expensive dress i bought, and i'm going to do my makeup, wear fishnets & heels, and get gorgeous, then go to a park & do a photoshoot to PROVE how good I look!"

It backfired so hard.

I cried on a park bench.

I felt like a sad, sweaty apple in a sausage-casing that shouldn't have tried to be something other than a gross rotting apple. I came home & immediately changed into shorts and a tanktop and refused to look in the mirrors. I wiped all my makeup off to hide that i'd been crying. I faked being okay to Jimmy because I know he'd just tell me he doesn't care & loves me any way I look... but what's it matter if someone else loves you, if you don't love yourself? When you can't see what they possibly love about your body when they won't even touch it?

On top of all of this, i'm in pain. Literal physical pain. I can't get jack-shit done IRL because of it. I'm always holed up on a couch or in bed crying because it hurts so much. My doctors just shrug and tell me "Well if you lost weight, it probably wouldn't hurt so bad." as if there's not a knot of nerves that if you barely graze my back, i crumple into a heap because of the fucking pain. But let's not see a neurologist -- that's obviously just me being too fat :) right? :)

It makes me not want to eat. I want to starve myself and eat only coffee and boiled eggs for months on end until I lose enough weight for my doctors to go "holy shit, we were wrong! it's NOT your weight! Let's actually get you tested for things NOT related to your weight!!" But I don't do that. Instead, I sit here and eat, because food = happiness. It doesn't need me to rely on somebody to leave the house. It doesn't need me to spend forever walking and standing. It makes me happy, in a life where the only happiness I get comes from my partners. So i fucking eat. And it's not that I eat a lot. I eat maybe 3x a day. 4 if i have an extra snack. My portions aren't crazy huge. I have vegetables & cut out a lot of carbs & dairy whenever I can. I fucking went Keto for 3 months before I got fed up making everything out of cauliflower & spending fortunes on alt flours because i'm allergic to fucking coconut everything...

If i'm not eating to make myself happy, i'm starving myself. Because the idea of food makes me sick. Food = weight gain, and while i know i need nutrients to survive, I'd rather not eat & hope I lose the weight, than eat & have a chance of just gaining more and more...

Is it healthy? fuck no. Is it an eating disorder? oh hell yeah. Do I want to do something about it? fucking of course. Do i know what to do? Not one fucking bit.

I just know i'm not happy. I hate my body. I hate looking at myself from the fucking shoulders on down, and I've no idea how to change it without having surgery -- and i've come to the realization that i'm beginning to be okay with that.

I'm sitting on a park bench today, crying, thinking "It can't be that bad... right?" to want to be cut open & have my stomach stapled, or be rubber-banded so small that all i can eat is a boiled egg and half a coffee, because obviously I can't do it myself.

I'm lying in bed last night, picturing what would happen if I just took a butcher knife and hacked off my "upper" belly, so maybe i'd start to look like a "normal" fat person, instead of this B-belly bullshit that nature so graciously gifted me...

I'm sitting here, remembering every time my mother calls herself fucking ugly, horrendous, disgusting, because she's fat... and she weighs almost 100lbs less than me. Or the time my German Teacher joked about hating her body so much, she mentioned wanting to take a shotgun & position it so it would only catch her belly fat, and nothing else, so they'd be FORCED to liposuction all of the buckshot out & she'd be "normal"...

I know my gyno prescribed a lap-band surgery once. My fucking OBGYN... I ended up cancelling the appointment because I thought I could do it on my own.

I can't.

I know my insurance would cover it. I know i'd be stuck with flabby gross skin afterward & not have any money to get the tummy-tuck needed to make me look normal...

I'm thinking of going through with it anyway though... because i fucking hate my body, and i hate the pain I'm in, and I just want to be done with it all.

[honestsycrets]

A Dog No Longer I

❛ request | this is a request for hvitserk’s 5crown, um i was wondering if you could possibly write something about reader rejecting his marriage proposal considering that their relationship was strictly for sex but he fell in love, then years later he sees her married to someone else and we see a little dark!hvit or like berserker!hvitty

for hvitserks 5crown, could you maybe write something where he is fed up being the brother who hasn’t accomplished much so he challenges another earl for their kingdom and wins but instead of removing the wife he marries her himself and she is like some incredible shield maiden and she really hates him but he’s hvit is determined to win her over ? thanks lots love your writing btw like so much

❛ word count | 2043

❛ genre | action 

❛ summary | You were always meant to be his. But you never took him seriously.

❛ warnings | dueling, character death, violence, jealousy, aggression, light humiliation

He had many women but never a wife. None gave him the desire to make her his wife. Or rather, none before the shield maiden (Y/N), Berseker’s Bane. When you entered the field his men felt a sense of rejuvenation. Long were the hours upon the field pressing on to claim land in the name of his brother Ubbe. So when you appeared and shouted with the howl of a Valkyrie, calling out to Odin and Freyja, they would shout with you.  They would handle the smaller sort of warriors and you, just like his brother Bjorn Ironside, would take care of berserkers. You had a knack for it and sought them out on a bloodied field of fear induced excrement.

Come here, son of Ragnar.

For some time he wondered if the introduction of sex was his idea or hers. If the way that she wove her hips in front of a lit flame in front of Torvi’s body, climbing over her with the pure intention of driving him wild, was all an act to bring a son of Ragnar into her bed. Every moment that you rode him, driving his cum out into your fertile womb was nothing to you. This was all for a purpose. To have a child from the house of Lothbrok growing within your stomach.

Did you think this was ever more than sex for me Hvitserk?

Did you think you were actually special?

One day-- You no longer wanted him.

You could never have me. You laughed and went on about your business leaving him to his with a stomach full of his child. Years passed and Ubbe passed in battle. Torvi, as she always claimed, went down with him. In the last years that he made up for the death of Guthrum with the life of his nephews, there was a rise in your name. That was fine… good. Good until he came to Aarhus and all went to shit.

“King Hvitserk!” The man bellows. Older, but not bad looking. His hair was cropped short, shaved around the sides. Snakes wrap from one side to another. Earl Eirikr was a fine earl. His people were well loved and cared for. Trade began to flourish in Aarhus, making it one of the larger trading points in his newly acquired lands. But… there was an issue.

The woman sitting beside him as his would be queen? That was you. He can barely recognize you donning beautiful golden dangling earrings that contrasted against the passionate red that drove his hand straight to his pants as he walked in beside his nephews. The old man welcomes him forward with his other hand around your waist.

“My wife has told me much about you!”

He bet he fucking did. You wore that fine, unrepentant pride with your head raised. Obviously you were proud that you had gotten one up on a son of Ragnar. That couldn’t stand. He wouldn’t let it.

“What brings you to Aarhus?” King Eirikr asks. Hvitserk comes to a stop in front of the older king, his hand upon the pommel of his braid. Hvitserk’s nose tickles as he shifts to look at him past fluffy furs.

“You have stolen the woman I intended to make my wife. I need to spill blood.” Hvitserk says. Eirikr glances to you with his stormy grey eyes worn by bags of his stress. Reigning had aged him-- and so had you, apparently. He expects to speak and yet-- you did it for him.

“Ah.” Eirikr clears his throat turning to face you just slightly. “I did not not know you had an arrangement.”

“We didn’t. No man makes me do anything. I thought you would know that by now, Hvitserk. I suppose not, given how your brother-- dear late Ubbe always handed everything down to you.” Like a woman you egg him on. Hvitserk’s eyes keep still. The older he got, the wiser he became. He knew far more than expect that you would treat him with respect.

It’s a ploy to run him off.

“You’ve disrespected me. I challenge you to a duel.” Hvitserk folds his arms over his chest by his nephews. Gladly you step up to receive him.

“Not you.” Hvitserk holds your eyes. The heat he brings to the engagement is more than the little brat you were so used to. The pretty boy of the Ragnarssons who seemed to be more woman than man to you. His features are hardened. Once full cheeks streaked by scar and the long days of battle.

“If you are really a man, you will fight me for your wife’s hand. If you lose, I will take her and your lands.” Hvitserk says in a silken trill. At this you shove forward, huffing against his skin. The air you exhale into his face would normally have made him falter when it was you. Ubbe… and you. Nothing changes this time: if you were to say no on behalf of Eirikr, it would have been a show of weakness. After all, no man said no to a duel.

“Fine.”

Your fists clench into tight balls at your sides. If there was one thing Hvitserk knew you hated-- it was being the stereotypical woman looking for her forever man on her knees. You had rather take up his very sword and gut him like a raw fish regardless of the consequence.

“Mother? What are these men doing?”

A small figure pushes through the crowd. Young, yes, but approaching the age of manhood. These were vital years for him to learn the good art of battle, stratagem and self preservation. Hvitserk catches him within his vision-- green eye meeting green eye. No fool here would be able to tell Hvitserk Ragnarsson that this little boy was NOT his. The same willowy body, blond hair beginning to turn into his honey brown hue. You lurch out to tug the boy to your body, turning him and bringing your arms in front.

“This is your father, King Hvitserk and these are his men.”

Standing in front of him is a thin little boy. It doesn’t immediately register that this is the son you left him over at first. The same must have gone for the fine young man in front of him. What stories had you made up for why he was here?

“I don’t understand, mother. Why is he here?” The young man stands his ground in confidence that Hvitserk himself didn’t have at such a young age.

“For your mother.” Hvitserk unclips his furs and hands it off to his young nephew. He bends before his son, gliding his hand over the young boy’s arm to his shoulder.

“I’m here to take your mother as my wife.”

Never once had your son been approached by someone like that. There were shieldmaidens seeking your advice, men that congratulated his stepfather on arranging a good and fair marriage. All of these instances were blessings.

“No!”

With a whap of his fist against his cheek, Hvitserk raises away from his son. He would get used to it. Children were as fickle as women were. While he might be saying no now, he would be saying another story when his broken family was put together. The young man turns to hold you as if he could change this for an instant.

Something low in Eirikr’s stomach tells him that there was no coming out of this. For he had not the luck to fight a Ragnarsson, something that Hvitserk and all his glory did have. A man that was handed everything finally come to make something out of nothing? It would have been about time.

“Hurry up, Eirikr.” Hvitserk warms a dark, deep smile. “I can’t wait to bed my wife.”

Despite knowing better than to goad Hvitserk on, you reach out toward your husband. If another man wanted to fight for you, you wouldn’t just stand by without getting under Hvitserk’s skin. Long ago, Hvitserk used to be a man of primal things. Gluttony and pride were his chief concerns, oh but you knew, envy boiled underneath the surface.

“You can do this.” You brought your husband around, guiding his large hands around your waist. Slowly you guide Eirik into a smooth kiss, your palms against his furry beard. There’s something there beneath your rough exterior… something almost affectionate that Eirikr brings out of you. In all the time that he fucked you, he can’t recall once.

Not once that you touched him like that. Your hands never stroked the softness of his cheeks or held his jaw while you kissed him, lips and tongue all working against his own. Not during sex and especially not out of sex in the company of all these men. The normal, youthful Hvitserk would have just looked down. Look away and pretend that he was the dog that everyone on Midgard made him out to be. Even you who he thought… he truly thought he had something with. This in fact was another illusion by Loki and Hvitserk? Suddenly he was back to being that clueless dog. Not anymore.

His hand flew to his belt, clutching the grip of his sword and in one fine sweep he unsheathed it. You notice it before your husband, pulling your lips free from his just seconds too late.

“Uncle wait!”

He spins out and his blade slashes into the soft skin of your husband’s side to split his tunic open. Eirikr makes a sharp bark of pain in response, falling back toward the closest one of his men. Using the weight in his steps, Hvitserk stomps towards him without heeding anyone’s word in the matter. It’s not a fair start-- Hvitserk should have waited! The crowd begins to roar in protest.

You hold up your hand knowing that backing down would shame your husband who was… not of the same state of mind as Eirikr. For him, this was a fight. For Hvitserk, this was so much more. Everything accumulating up over the years in this one moment. In a way you thought he longed to show you the sort of man he could be.

“He is berserking.” You say from the side, reaching out toward your feisty green eyed son. Your arms tighten around him like a cage to keep him in place.

“I’ve never seen one up close!” Your young boy says as if it is a spectacle that causes you to cringe. No man should have to fight a man that bit his shield and roared with the feistiness of Nidghoggr. Eirikr darts underneath table in search for his weapon. Hvitserk follows close behind looking to devour him whole. When he finally gains ahold of a weapon, he might as well had not have had it in the first place.

Hvitserk is fast. He sweeps this way and that, weaving and ducking with every slash of the earl’s sword. Your son shouts something toward the man that raised him, pricking your ears with his words of love and encouragement. It wasn’t meant to last. Hvitserk puts all his weight into a sweep, thrusting the blade out of his hand. Hvitserk sweeps his blade up, then down his throat. It’s done.

Then, with that same hungry look, he looks to you.

The sons of Ubbe back away, your hands shake upon your little boy with every pounding step he takes. The innocent boy you once knew is now tainted by blood, splattered across his face with drips over his slender lips.

One of your hands leave your son’s chest, ignoring the stifled tears that spill down from his almond shaped eyes. Hvitserk spares the boy a look, flicking his head in the direction of his nephews. So you push him in that direction, raising your head with the same indignation as earlier. 

“You were always overly prideful.” Hvitserk husks, reaching a bloodied hand out to your chin. He tips your head up. “But not anymore, are you?” 

Before you can respond, Hvitserk ducks down to pick you up with his hands on the back of your knees. He stands with your body over his shoulder, pridefully stomping toward your room. As a shieldmaiden, it makes your teeth grind to be unable to stop him.

After all, he did win.

@igetcarriedawaywithyou, @kylobien, @titty-teetee, @breathlessouls, @nejijjeoroo, @bcat1291, @readsalot73, @mslothbrok, @romanchronicles, @captstefanbrandt, @ailucascen, @michaeliskindahot, @cbouvier23, @naaladareia, @cbouvier23, @the-geeky-engineer, @dorned, @lisinfleur, @funmadnessandbadassvikings, @tephi101, @akamaiden, @ethereallysimple, @venusloviing, @happylittlepuppydog, @beyond-the-ashes, @slutforrpg, @hipsternoionlylikeunicorns, @mixedwiththemoon, @sparklemichele, @alicedopey, @lif3snotouttogetyou, @rubyquartzshades, @noregretsandyeteveryregret, @dangerous-like-a-loaded-pistol, @deathbyarabbit, @unacceptabletatertots, @beyond-the-ashes (no sig), @babypink224221, @ivarandersen, @queen-see-ya-in-valhalla, @moose-squirrel-asstiel, @icarus-fell-in-spring, @end-of-night, @gruffle1, @lol-haha-joke@arses21434,  @smileyparrots, @Moosemittens13, @miss-artemis-wild, @two-unbeatable-beaters, @wonderwoman292, @wish-i-was-a-mermaid, @fangirls94, @mcuimxgine, @killerb00sdeath, @heartbeats-wildly, @boo20017, @acacheofstrange, @shaelyn102, @astoryoffireandlight, @smokealone, @shaelyn102

#hvitserk x reader #hvitty x reader #hvitserk/reader #hvitserk imagines #hvitty imagines #vikings imagines #vikings imagine #berserking hvitserk #5cw: Hvitserk

[tedlyanderson]

Annotations for Adventure Time: Beginning of the End issue 3!

Did you enjoy my annotations for issue one and issue two of this miniseries? If so, good news! (If not, shove off!) I have annotations for the third issue, right here waiting for your lovely eyes! Obviously, as with the previous posts, this will have great big massive spoilers for the issue, so take that into consideration. Please enjoy, my pals!

Pages 2&3: Okay, there’s a lot to unpack on these pages, haha. First and foremost is a reference to something other than Adventure Time for once: Jake’s monologue on these pages is a loose reference to one of the very best issues of classic Fantastic Four, number 51, “This Man ... This Monster!” In that issue, among other events, Reed Richards travels through the Negative Zone and muses to himself about the nature of reality:

There are cameos on these pages from a bunch of the “cosmic” things of the AT universe, including the Catalyst Comet, the Lich, a copy of the Enchiridion,  Glob Grob Gob Grod, the Finn Sword, and Prismo (in a rare 3-dimensional appearance). There’s also a herd of Time Lards with clocks on their bellies.

Also in this image, note the most minor and in-jokey reference in this entire series: the satellite on the middle-left with the word “FELIS” on it. In the episode “Fionna and Cake and Fionna,” someone asks Ice King where he gets the ideas for his Fionna and Cake stories, and he replies that they’re “beamed into [his] melon every night.” Later that episode, we see him sleeping as a pink laser zaps into his head, carrying images of Fionna and Cake. I chose to interpret this as a reference to one of my favorite authors, Philip K. Dick, who believed that he was receiving knowledge in the form of an information-rich pink laser beam from a satellite called VALIS. So this satellite, FELIS (get it? like cats?), is the source of the Fionna and Cake stories—in my version of the universe, anyway.

Page 4, panel 4: Chronologius Rex declares that he is the lord of Time, not meatloaf. Meatloaf has been established multiple times as Finn’s favorite food.

Page 5: And here we come to the crux of this issue: Finn’s possible futures. Issue 1 of this series was about Finn’s past, issue 2 was about his present, so naturally issue 3 is all about his futures. Obviously none of these should be taken as “canon;” I just came up with three possible paths Finn might take based on what we’ve seen him do throughout the series. I’ll explain my thinking after the third sequence.

All three of the futures are color-coded—the Candy Knight future is pink, obviously.

Page 6: I love Mari’s designs for Queen Bubblegum—the high ‘80s shoulders are great! My suggestion for Old Peppermint Butler was that he be smoother and shinier, as if he’s a candy that’s been sucked on for too long.

In panel 2, the “Dinner Kingdom” is kind of a half-reference to the Breakfast Kingdom in present Ooo.

And in panel 5, note old Finn’s Jake medallion.

Page 7, panel 4: I am not sorry for the “bunch” of banana soldiers joke.

Page 8, panel 1: Beards are indeed a factor in many of Finn’s futures: pretty much every time we’ve seen an older or artificially-aged Finn, he’s got a beard of some sort. I continue the trend in this issue.

Page 8, panel 5: This is a futuristic version of Founders’ Island, the main human settlement outside of Ooo, fixed up and fully repaired. The implication is that Finn not only returned to the human islands, he also helped fix the place up.

The color scheme for the Teacher Finn future is blue, connecting with the water and sky surrounding them.

Page 9, panel 2: I love Teacher Finn’s design so, so much, you guys. I described him as a lovable old professor, someone with his mother’s compassion and his father’s roguish charm, and Mari knocked it out of the park. Note his Jake hat.

Page 9, panel 3: “Homies help homies: always!” is the Adventure Time philosophy in a nutshell.

Page 9, panel 5: Note that Finn is still using his old, trusty sword Scarlett in this future. She’s even more nicked and battle-scarred, but I’m sure she’s still good in a fight.

Page 10, panel 2: Dodging eggs while fighting was part of Finn’s training from Rattleballs in his eponymous episode.

Page 10, panel 2: When it came to Finn’s human wife, I told Mari to make her look a little bit like a human version of Flame Princess. I figured Finn if has a type, it’s her!

Page 11: The third and final possible future is the Space Captain Finn future, which is green-themed for no particular reason. This future is based on the idea that Finn and his Candy Kingdom pals team up with the remaining humans to build a spaceship to take them away from Earth, which is about as likely as anything else in Adventure Time, haha.

Everything in this sequence is of course heavily inspired by Star Trek: the Next Generation, a show that I love and grew up watching. The Minerva A.I. is the ship’s computer, obviously, warning of “excessive sparks detected on bridge.” Jake is Finn’s right-hand-man, just like Riker was to Picard (and Finn even calls him “numero uno,” like Picard’s “number one”). Lady Rainicorn is the equivalent of counselor Troi, Fern is a bit like Data, and Jake’s skateboarding granddaughter Bronwyn is the hotshot kid pilot, like Wesley. Princess Bubblegum is the engineering chief—she always struck me as preferring the role of scientist rather than royalty, frankly—assisted by Frieda and BMO. Flame Princess, upgraded to Plasma Princess, powers the ship as a whole. And Finn himself sports a beard similar to Commander Riker’s—which is appropriate, as a future version of Finn was voiced by Riker’s actor, Jonathan Frakes!

When coming up with these futures, I thought about what the Finn we knew might be most drawn to doing, and boiled it down to three major options: fighting and defending (the Candy Knight future), teaching and training (the Teacher Finn future), or exploring and leading (Space Captain Finn). For what it’s worth, I don’t really have a preference, or any opinions on which future is most likely—one of the strengths of Adventure Time has always been finding ways to surprise its audience with something that makes total sense in retrospect. If Finn does have a “canonical” future, it’s probably something I would never have thought of, but which makes perfect sense.

Page 11, panel 4: Princess Bubblegum yet again mentions “zanoits,” which are maybe some kind of mysterious particle? It’s a funny word and deserves to be used more often.

Page 12, panel 1: I mentioned in my annotations for the previous issue that I felt bad making Susan revert to her simpler speech patterns, since by this point in the series she’s perfectly capable of using big words. I tried to make it up to her by making her the ship’s communications officer, who would use big words all the time.

Additionally, the “Tuffbone sector” is a reference to Meredith Gran’s Adventure Time miniseries, Marceline: Gone Adrift. In that series, Marceline explores space and meets other races, including the Tuffbones, dog-like alien critters.

Page 12, panel 2: Note that Shelby (the worm who lives in Jake’s viola) is wearing a bandolier similar to Worf’s. I was particularly proud of that idea, haha.

Page 12, panel 4: Jake’s exclamation of “Outrageous!” is a reference to another role by his voice actor, John DiMaggio: it’s the catchphrase of Aquaman, from the Batman: the Brave and the Bold series.

Page 16, panel 3: A “dead world” is another bit of unexplored Adventure Time lore: they’re apparently where people go when they die, but they’re not quite the afterlife as we think of it? Or it is, but there’s a lot of them, like at least fifty? Unclear.

Page 16, panel 4: I had to work in the title of the show somehow.

Page 17, panel 3: I wanted to make sure I referenced my favorite song from the show, “Everything Stays” by Rebecca Sugar, and this seemed like the perfect time to bring it up, as Jake discusses the inevitability of change.

Page 17, panel 4: When I described this panel in the script, I specifically mentioned the series Neon Genesis Evangelion, one of the weirder depictions of the end of the world you can find. I love the image of the enormous stone blocks sinking into an endless sea.

Page 18, panel 5: Chronologius’s epithet for Jake, “starchild,” references Jake’s actual origin as a half-alien creature. I checked the dates, and apparently I finished the script for this issue just a couple weeks after the episode “Jake the Starchild” aired, in which Jake’s parentage was fully revealed.

Pages 20-21: Finn’s final “confrontation” with Chronologius might feel a bit underwhelming—essentially, all he does is convince Chronologius to give them an opportunity to escape. There’s no big battle, no war of wits; it’s already been established that Chronologius is basically invulnerable, so it’s not like Finn could beat him in a fight. It’s not terribly exciting, but that’s kind of the point: over the course of this issue, Chronologius becomes more sympathetic to Finn and his plight, particularly after seeing all the good he did (and might have done) in the world. So it’s less about beating up some big bad dude, and more about convincing someone to act like a pal. In a way, Finn beats Chronologius by making him into a friend.

Would it have been better if the ending was more exciting, action-packed, crazy-style? Maybe! Looking back on it, I feel like I could have given Mari more chances to do cool art stuff—the first half of this issue has some pretty far-out sequences and nifty new things to draw, but the second half is basically three characters talking against a mostly boring background. Thematically I feel like it’s better to have Finn succeed by befriending the villain, rather than just punching his lights out, but it definitely doesn’t have the same visual impact. Overall, I’m still proud of it, but that doesn’t mean it couldn’t be improved.

That’s it for issue three! Join me next time for—issue four?!? Yes! This three-part miniseries is in fact a four-part miniseries, ending with Finn and Jake’s adventures through time! Look forward to it, my chums!

#adventure time beginning of the end #adventure time comics #comics annotations #adventure time annotations

[lady-divine-writes]

Kurtbastian one-shot - “An Egg-cellent Disaster” (Rated PG13)

Sebastian suffers a bout of PTSD when Isabelle invites Kurt and their family to an upscale egg hunt. (3308 words)

Notes: This isn't a re-write, but I wrote one similar for K*laine.

Part 38 of Daddies.

Read on AO3.

“Ugh. Can you get PTSD from an Easter egg hunt? I’m asking for a friend,” Sebastian says, glancing over his shoulder as he leads his husband, his son, and his son’s service dog towards the swankiest gathering of New York’s elite that he’s seen in a long time. This isn’t normally how they spend Easter, and if it were up to him, they would have done what they always do – color eggs and hide them around their house, bake Kurt’s mom’s special braided Easter bread, sit on the sofa and watch their little boy eat too many jelly beans until he vibrates into another dimension. They’d run him around the yard until he passed out from exhaustion, then lock themselves in their bedroom and have some adult fun with the ears and tail of an old bunny costume Kurt’s parents sent them one year. But ever since Kurt got his promotion at Vogue, they’ve been attending more events like this over the holidays – outlandish affairs that required them to dress in more-expensive-than-usual attire and rub elbows with the upper crust.

It’s how Sebastian spent a good portion of his own childhood, so it should be old hat to him by now. But the older he gets, the more he values his quiet life. And things like this, which Kurt handles with the grace and energy of a professional socialite, have begun to wear on him.

He can’t blame Kurt for this one. He didn’t choose this. He didn’t even know egg hunts of this caliber existed.

It was his boss Isabelle’s idea.

Sebastian loves Isabelle. Kurt owes her a ton for giving him his big break right after he graduated high school, when he’d moved to New York with no other plan than to survive, which means Sebastian owes her, too.

After this, though, Sebastian might consider declaring them even.

“Having flashbacks?” Kurt teases, taking his hand as they pick their way through the grass over to a roped off area. From what he can see, it’s roughly about the size of two football fields end to end, which Kurt finds astounding since half of the children here look barely old enough to walk yet.

How are they going to cover the length of one football field, not to mention two? They’ll be huddled in one corner, whining over a dozen plastic eggs, leaving an entire section of grass completely unexplored.

“You can say that,” Sebastian says, stopping when Thomas chooses a spot and plops down in the grass. “My parents took me and my brother to one of these stupid hunts every single year. You’d think it would be fun. I mean, it was at the country club, there were other kids, eventual chocolate. But it was never fun.”

“Why not?”

“Because it wasn’t just getting together with our friends and looking for eggs. It was a competition. Our parents were pitting their kids against each other to see whose family was better. But by the end, the other kids didn’t matter. For my parents, it became me against my brother.” Sebastian stops the story there, stops short of telling Kurt exactly how far his parents’ disappointment in him went. He’ll tell Kurt one of these days. But now is not the time. Not in front of Thomas. “It was kind of traumatizing.”

Kurt puts a hand on his husband’s shoulder. “Oh, Sebastian. I’m sorry. I didn’t know. Why didn’t you tell me? We could have found a way to bow out.”

“Because you always get so excited when Isabelle invites you to these things. I didn’t want you to miss it. It’s important to you.”

“Yeah, but you’re more important. One of the most important.”

“You can make it up to me later,” Sebastian suggests, leaning in close so Thomas won’t hear. “You know … nakedly?”

Kurt rolls his eyes, but he didn’t expect anything less. “Look, Isabelle hasn’t seen us yet. Maybe we can …”

“Kurt! Sebastian! Oh, thank goodness you could make it! I was scared you’d get caught in the holiday traffic!”

Kurt sighs. He had always referred to Isabelle as his ‘fairy godmother’ in part because of the dreams she’d been able to help him realize, but also because of her impeccable timing.

It was close to occult.

Kurt mouths sorry to his husband for getting his hopes up while his boss is too far away to notice.

“Isabelle! We wouldn’t miss it for the world!” Kurt feels his husband grimace as he greets his boss with a hug and a kiss on each cheek. “We actually came up yesterday and rented a room not too far from here to make sure we’d get here on time.”

“Fabulous!” she says, kissing Kurt and then moving on to Sebastian. “Make sure you send me the bill!”

“You know I will.” Kurt watches Isabelle move on to Thomas and Hepburn. Thomas may not like being kissed, but he loves Isabelle as much as his parents do, so he sits still and lets her fuss over him, coo about how cute and grown up he looks, so much like his fathers in his smart grey slacks and navy blue button down. “So, what are the rules here?” Kurt asks, searching the grounds for a sign, a poster, a handout, something. “Is there a time limit? Are the kids separated by athletic ability? Or age?”

Kurt isn’t a huge fan of things like Easter egg hunts or baby races. He doesn’t have the patience to handle large congregations of kids and parents. Being a member of the PTA at his son’s school is the farthest he’ll stretch. And even though he wanted to come today, he was hoping to constrict their revelry to family members only, so if they can find their own section of the park to conduct their Easter biz without having to socialize, even with the elite, that would suit him fine.

“You’re making this too complicated!” Isabelle laughs under the assumption that Kurt is joking. “It’s just an Easter egg hunt, Kurt!”

“We usually confine our egg hunting to our house, maybe the front porch,” Sebastian says.

“Yeah. Besides, tromping through the grass in search of hard boiled eggs isn’t the way my father and I spent Easter.”

“How did you spend Easter?” Isabelle asks, realizing that after knowing Kurt for over a decade, she has no clue.

“The way many a well-rounded, musical theater inclined child did. I watched Brigadoon on AMC.”

Sebastian side-eyes his husband with a scowl that makes Isabelle snicker. “How in the hell did you and I ever get together?”

“You decided to stop being a royal idiot about pretty much everything in your life and do something smart for once.”

Isabelle guffaws so loudly at that, Hepburn’s ears prick up.

“Wow …” Sebastian says, mouth agape. “I … don’t know how to respond to that.”

“A simple you’re absolutely right, love of my life, I will never doubt your incredible wisdom in all things again will suffice.”

“Not the direction I was going to go, but okay. As long as it gets me some ass after this is over with.”

Kurt elbows his husband.

Isabelle snorts. “Come on, guys! Let’s enjoy ourselves! It’s a beautiful day! The sun is shining, the sky is blue, and I think the Easter bunny just arrived!”

“The Easter bunny!?” Thomas pipes up from his seat in the grass. “Where?”

Sebastian, Kurt, and Thomas take a gander at the festivities around them heralding the soon-to-be start of the egg hunt. Indeed, the Easter bunny had arrived. But this was not your average, human-sized, department store cottontail dressed in a pastel vest and straw top hat, carrying a basket of colorful, candy-filled plastic eggs. This Easter bunny is easily seven feet tall, dressed in what could only be described as a vintage suit of aubergine brocade with matching purple top hat; a tall, white plume tucked inside the olive green hat band; a gold monocle over his left eye; carrying a hand-carved mahogany walking stick in one hand, and a Moses basket in the other, filled to bursting with eggs, jelly beans, foil-wrapped chocolates, and trinkets and tidbits that catch the light and twinkle like gemstones. He’s surrounded by an entourage of handlers, each wearing an outfit to complement the bunny’s own and carrying baskets of the same treats to hand out to the kids. The bunny and his team walk the perimeter of the field, and a parade forms behind him – adorable little boys and girls bedecked in their Sunday best, dresses and suits that Kurt saw advertised in Vogue for close to four figures. But some of them are dressed in honest to God athletic wear.

Those boys and girls look downright intimidating.

“I don’t know.” Kurt eyes five children dressed in matching track suits and running shoes. “Some of the people here look awfully competitive.”

“That’s an understatement,” Sebastian adds. Back in his day, the kids and parents were competitive as fuck. But this – this is on a whole other level.

“Of course they are! The prizes here are outstanding! Last year, they hid a $10,000 Tiffany engagement ring in one of the eggs!”

Kurt’s eyebrows shoot up so far, they disappear somewhere in the vicinity of his hairline. “Really?”

“Sounds about right,” Sebastian mutters, shivering with the memory of having his hand stepped on by no less than three pairs of dress shoes in an effort to reach a particularly difficult to get at egg. All the kids knew that the farther the lie, the better the prize. That was something the organizers of the egg hunt used to sing as they released the children, like hounds, to sniff out the treats.

He suddenly feels queasy, stomach acids sloshing left to right as he shoves that little ditty aside. But even with it pushed out of the way, he can’t help feeling sick.

Why were they there again?

“They go all out - luxury vacations, spa packages, theater tickets … but don’t worry,” Isabelle says when she notices how pale Sebastian has become. “The emphasis here is on fun.”

“Do they know that?” Kurt asks, motioning with his chin towards a nearby family dressed entirely in Under Armour from The Rock’s latest collection – mother, father, and their five-year-old daughter staring down Thomas like a lion stares down an easy meal.

Under Armour – proud sponsor of Easter and good-natured family fun, Kurt thinks spitefully. He wonders if Isabelle has the same thought as she quickly pulls out her iPhone and starts snapping some pics.

Their attentions are directed upward by the sound of a helicopter arriving, circling the area above their heads.

“Okay, why is that here?” Kurt asks. It’d be easy to assume it’s paparazzi, but there isn’t supposed to be any here. That’s part of the appeal. There are guards posted everywhere to ensure the privacy of the families participating. But they can’t be everywhere at once. It’s possible one or two might get through.

“It’s here to drop more eggs from above! Those are the ones people really go for. Some of them are made out of solid gold!” Isabelle explains, nearly drooling after the words solid gold.

“What the---? That’s insane! Even my parents’ country club never went that far!” Sebastian envisions something the size of a chicken egg made of gold plummeting from the sky and smacking him on the head. That would definitely leave a dent in his skull, at the very least.

Could he survive that impact?

“Ouch!” Kurt kneels beside his son and covers his head protectively while keeping an eye on the sky. “Isn’t this a little excessive? I mean, we have the money to go to whatever spa we want. That’s one of the perks of being rich.”

“That’s a lawsuit waiting to happen!” Sebastian says, pointing towards the sky. “I don’t know about you, but I don’t remember signing a waiver!” He joins his husband, son, and Hepburn, hovering over them in an effort to protect them all when he swears he hears the copter swoop down. “What kid needs a Tiffany engagement ring anyway? This sounds like it’s going to turn into a blood bath!” He meets Kurt’s gaze, his husband’s eyes wide, unsure what to do about this, about this mess he’s gotten them into. “Maybe we should go somewhere else.”

“No!” Isabelle pleads. “Just … give it a few minutes! Please? An hour at the most? I promise we’ll have fun! I’ve been looking forward to getting you out here for this Easter egg hunt ever since I found out you’d adopted Thomas!”

Kurt shakes his head slowly. He is here for work, but that shouldn’t include putting his life, and the lives of his family, in danger! Isabelle is his friend. She won’t make him stay if they’re uncomfortable, especially considering Thomas’s history of anxiety. But there’s a look in her eyes he hasn’t seen before. Not crazy, per se, but slightly unhinged? But not in a bad way? “I don’t know …”

“We’re at a big, private park. There’s a playground and a lake not too far from here. If you don’t like the Easter egg hunt, we can go over there and Thomas can play. But can we give this a try first? Please?”

Kurt looks from a worried Sebastian, awkwardly shielding their heads, to Hepburn, instinctively on alert, back to Isabelle, and sighs. Isabelle means well. She’s from a wealthy family in Columbus, so she probably went to egg hunts like this one, same as Sebastian. Perhaps her experiences were better. With no kids of her own, she probably tries to strong arm all the employees with kids to come to this thing so she can relive her childhood.

Looking at the expression on her face, she seems nothing if not sincere.

In the end, for Kurt, it’s all about Thomas. And his son - playing in the grass, singing a song about the Easter bunny that he learned in school, without a care in the world - seems to be enjoying himself so far.

They’re already here. They drove for hours to get here. And it is a stunning location. They can stick it out for a while, collect a few eggs, dodge the helicopter, grab some punch and cookies over at the refreshment table, and then retire to the playground. They brought Hepburn’s toys with them. They can tire Thomas and his dog out in one fell swoop. It’ll be fine. It might even be fun.

If anything, the pictures will be precious.

“Alright,” Kurt says, feeling the weight of his husband deflating a bit in defeat. He knows that Sebastian was hoping this was their out, and on any given day, falling solid gold projectiles would be. But Kurt is in the unfortunate position of having to juggle the feelings of multiple people that he loves. “We’ll give it an hour.”

“Yay!” Isabelle says. “That’s all I ask.”

“But after that …”

“Alright, ladies and gentlemen! Lads and lasses! Step right up to the starting line! The 53rd Annual Hampton Bay Easter Egg Hunt is about to begin!”

“Starting line?” Sebastian repeats, looking left and right. “What starting line?”

Kurt looks around, too, in confusion. Starting line? He doesn’t remember seeing anything marked starting line. There was only the rope boundary and …

Uh oh …

While they’d been discussing staying or going, they hadn’t noticed that the parade of kids and parents following the Easter bunny had circled round and stopped about a hundred feet away … right where the rope Kurt, Sebastian, Thomas, and Hepburn passed to get in had been set up. There they stood – a mob of adults and children lined up in starting positions, brows furrowed in deep concentration, ready to charge, like a re-enactment of The Hunger Games if the eccentrically dressed inhabitants of the Capitol City were the ones on the attack.

Sebastian, Kurt, Thomas, and Isabelle didn’t know.

Nobody told them.

Nobody warned them.

Nobody seemed to care that they were sitting in the grass, dead center, in the way.

“On your marks …”

“Daddy …” Thomas grabs his father’s hand in both of his and squeezes tight.

“… get set …”

“No, no, no, no …” Sebastian springs to his feet, gearing up to drag the lot of them off the field before the announcer can get to Go!

But he never does.

And not because he’s waiting for them to vacate the field. (Who knows if the man even sees them?) But because the start of the hunt is proclaimed by a gun shot.

The sharp pop hits the air.

After that, the roar of hundreds of feet hitting the ground, along with the frantic screaming of children, is deafening. At the same time, the helicopter above releases its bounty. Plastic eggs rain down around them, exploding on contact, spreading chocolate shrapnel within a foot of where they land. One hits Sebastian on the top of his head.

“Ow! God!” he wails, rubbing an already forming bump with his fingers. He doesn’t know what the heck was inside that thing, but his head begins to throb.

No way is he going to stay there if something made of solid gold is headed his way.

“Run!” Sebastian says, pulling his husband to his feet and getting pelted by another plastic egg in the process. He sees this one where it lands, spraying jelly beans left and right, and he starts laughing.

“Sebastian!” Kurt cries. Hepburn barks once in warning and yanks Thomas the shortest distance across the field. Kurt covers the boy’s head with his jacket and bolts, leaving Sebastian behind in a mad dash for their car. “Sebastian! For God’s sake! Hurry up!”

Sebastian runs to catch up, but three steps in, a featureless gold blur hits the ground hard, and his foot gets caught in the hole it makes. He falls to his knees, laughing hysterically at the absurdity of it all. Spoiled little rich kid with daddy issues. That’s what Kurt had called him once back in high school – back when they hated one another. Little did Kurt know how close to the mark that comment hit, or how deeply the already scarred over wounds went. But the reason Kurt didn’t know, not for a long time, is because Sebastian had worked so hard to hide them, run away from them. He was going to grow up better than his upbringing. He was going to become a successful person, a successful parent, whether his own parents were proud of him or not. But all the things they did to break him down - Sebastian didn’t find a way to get rid of them. He simply carried them with him. And here he was – a husband and a father, scared of an Easter egg hunt! Granted, he was in very real danger of ending up with a concussion, but fuck the rest!

Isabelle was right! It’s a beautiful day! And regardless of the greedy horde about to trample him into the dirt, he was going to have the best day ever because he’s surrounded by people he loves!

People who will mourn him when he’s gone.

“Raise our son well, Kurt!” he chokes out over the howl of the raging onslaught. “And remember, I always loved you! Well, ninety-three percent of the time!”

Kurt turns to see his husband, red-faced with laughter, swallowed by the crowd, and despite being concerned for his safety, he can’t help laughing, too. He knows that in a few minutes the crowd will pass, and Sebastian will emerge the way he always does – cocky as hell, obnoxiously triumphant, and probably with a dozen of those golden eggs Isabelle was fiending over. “You’re a good man, Sebastian Smythe! You shall be missed!”

#kurtbastian #sebkurt #sekurt #frankie writes

[avengxrp]

Writing Wednesday, Episode 2

Hey guys! Here is your very second edition of Writing Wednesday. This week was entirely by Nikeeta’s efforts. She’s got her degree in writing so this is some helpful stuff. She and I were working together and talking about all the common mistakes we’ve done and since forgotten about since high school. So without further ado, here is your next edition of Writing Wednesday! 

Writing Wednesday - Common Misspellings and Grammar: Writing Tips Edition

We’ve all done it. Used the wrong word, didn’t proofread our post before sending it off into the big bad world of tumblr with a glaring error that you only spot after either a nap or your third cup of coffee. Some of us even have fucking writing degrees and yet...!

PART ONE: Common Misspellings

Lose / Loose

Lose - the opposite of win Loose - loose morals - i.e. like Tony’s bed partners (sorry Kate)

Definitely / Defiantly

Definitely - 100% certain

Defiantly - 100% disobedience

Effect / Affect

Effect - (noun) use when talking about a result or if it follows one of these words: "into", "on", "take", "the", "any", "an" as well as "or."

Affect - (verb) use it when trying to describe influencing someone or something rather than causing it.

Weather / Whether

Weather - sun, rain, hail, sleet, snow

Whether - “I’m not sure whether I should have whiskey or vodka.”

A lot / alot

A lot - of space; of something

Alot - not actually a word

Then / Than

Then - sequence of time - i.e. first we drank a lot, and then we did something stupid and got arrested

Than - a comparison- i.e. I’d rather poke myself in the eyes than meet Tony Stark again

Allusion / Illusion

Allusion - an indirect reference - i.e. That blog post about Kate made an allusion to her father’s supposedly dodgy dealings.

Illusion - a false idea or conception; belief or opinion not in accord with the facts; an unreal, deceptive, or misleading appearance or image - i.e. People have the illusion that Clint is stupid.

Desert / Dessert

Desert - (verb) to forsake/abandon; a dry, baren, sandy region (noun).

Dessert - OM NOMS

Principal / Principle

Principal - (noun) head of a school; first in rank (adjective)

Principle - a fundamental truth or motivating force

Stationary / Stationery

Stationary - not moving

Stationery - writing materials

Soldier / Solider

Soldier - someone who serves in the army - i.e. The Winter Soldier

Solider - comparative adjective of solid; firm and stable in shape

Accept / Except

Accept - to receive - i.e. Pepper accepted an apology gift off Tony.

Except - anything brought about by a cause or agent; result - i.e. Nothing else mattered except that Kate was alive.

PART TWO: Grammar

Their / There / They’re

Their - (possessive adjective) belonging to, made by, or done by them - i.e. “That bow is their bow.” “Whose bow?” “Clint’s.”

There - a place or point - i.e. “Where should I put my bow?” “Just shove it over there.”

They’re - contraction of they + are - i.e. “Where’s Kate and Tommy?” “Oh, they’re going out on a date.”

Its / It’s

Its - (possessive pronoun) belonging to it - i.e. “Hold its head still, Clint - I’ve got the shot.”

It’s - contraction of it + is (e.g. “Is that yours?” “Yeah, it’s mine.”); informal for it + has (e.g. “It’s got six legs, kill it with fire!”)

Your / You’re

Your - (possessive adjective) sits before another word (usually a noun or a pronoun) to show that it belongs to "you" (e.g. your car, your arm), is of "you" (e.g. your picture, your photograph) or is related to "you" (e.g. your uncle).

You’re - contraction of you + are - i.e. “Where do you think you’re going, Tony?” “Workshop!”

Too / To / Two

Too - also; very (if you’re unsure, swap out the ‘too’ for also or very and if the sentence works, it’s ‘too’ you’re looking for; if it doesn’t, then it’s ‘to’) - i.e. Tony always had his music too loud.

To - toward (e.g. Kate was going to the gym this afternoon.) and to + verb = infinitive (e.g. It was going to rain today - to + rain = the infinitive ‘to rain’.)

Two - a number - i.e. “How many donuts do you want?” “Eight.” “No, Tony.” “Fine, two.”

Which / That

Which - a particular one or ones of those mentioned or implied. Use which before an independent clause (words you can change without changing the meaning of the sentence) - i.e. “Stark Tower, which was designed by Tony Stark, is an eyesore.” (Fuck off, Steve.)

That - something indicated. Use that before a dependent clause (words you can't change without changing the meaning of the sentence) - i.e. “The girl that you saw at the party was Kate Bishop.”

Our / Are

Our - (possessive adjective) of or belonging to us - i.e. “That’s our flat right there.”

Are - 2nd person singular and 1st, 2nd and 3rd person plural of the verb ‘be’ - i.e. “Where are you going?”

Who / Whom

Who - should be used to refer to the subject of a sentence - i.e. “Who is that?” “Fake Hawkeye.”

Whom - should be used to refer to the object of a verb or preposition - i.e. “To whom it may concern.”

Just remember: apostrophes are little gravestone markers that show that a word has died, been omitted, and is there as a little sign of respect. If you’re ever unsure what, for example, ‘your’ to use between ‘your’ and ‘you’re’ expand the ‘you’re’ to ‘you are’ and see if it still fits and makes sense.

PART THREE: Commas, Semicolons and Colons

A clause is a group of words that contains a subject and a verb.

An independent clause can stand alone as a complete sentence.

Kate(s) likes(v) dogs.

A dependent clause cannot.

i.e. Since* Pepper(s) had left(v) -- (yes? What happened?)

A restrictive dependent clause cannot. (Restrictive is bolded)

i.e. Kate held out the hand that was hurt.

An independent clause is a group of words that can stand on its own as a sentence: it has a subject, a verb and is a complete thought. Just because an independent clause can stand on its own, doesn’t mean that it has to. One or more independent clauses can be added together to form a compound sentence, and independent clauses can be added to dependent clauses to form complex sentences.

A dependent clause is a group of words that also contains a subject and a verb, but isn’t a complete thought. Because it’s not a complete thought, a dependent clause cannot stand on its own as a sentence; it is dependent on being attached to an independent clause to form a sentence. Dependent clauses can often be identified by words called ‘dependent markers’*, which are usually subordinating conjunctions. If a clause begins with one of these words, then it’s dependent and needs to be attached to an independent clause.

After

As

Although

Because

Before

Even though

If

Once

Rather than

Since

That

Though

Unless

Until

When

Whenever

Whereas

While

Etc

A restrictive dependent clause gives essential information about a noun that comes before it: without this clause the sentence wouldn’t make much sense. A restrictive relative clause can be introduced by that, which, whose, who, or whom. You should not place a comma in front of a restrictive relative clause. (You can also leave out that or which in some restrictive relative clauses.)

This all sounds much more confusing than it is - you do it already! It pretty much boils down to not leaving your sentences hanging and although an independent clause can sit on its own as a complete sentence, it doesn’t have to - make it more complex sometimes, give it a bit more oomph.

Commas

Okay, so a comma marks a slight break between different parts of a sentence. Used properly, commas make the meaning of sentences clear by grouping and separating words, phrases, and clauses.

You should use a commas for the following:

Lists - i.e. For breakfast Kate ordered scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage and French toast. (You can use a comma after ‘sausage’ too - this is called an ‘Oxford Comma’ and is entirely dependent on the writer - it’s preference!)

direct speech - i.e. Kate replied, “Go to hell.” // “Fuck you too,” said Tony. (Pretty much, if the information about who’s speaking comes before the speech - option one - then it needs a comma before the quotations and if it’s coming after the speech - option two - then there needs to be a comma inside the quotes.) There’s only two exceptions to this rule - if the speech is ending with a question mark or an exclamation mark i.e. “Will you shut up!” “Why do you think shouting will make me stop?”

to separate clauses (to link a dependent and independent clause together) - i.e. Since Pepper had left, Tony didn’t know what to do with himself. Do not use commas in, or around, restrictive dependent clauses.)

to mark off certain parts of a sentence, to mark off information that isn’t essential to the overall meaning - i.e. It was a bit shit outside, all rain and wind, so Kate decided to stay indoors. The sentence should still make sense if you take out what’s inside the commas. If you aren’t sure whether you’ve used a pair of commas correctly, try replacing them with brackets or removing the information enclosed by the commas altogether and then see if the sentence is still understandable, or if it still conveys the meaning you intended.

with 'however' - you should use a comma after ‘however’ when however means ‘by contrast’ or ‘on the other hand’ i.e. However, if Tony used a new wiring system then he’d get an extra inch of room in the suit. Don’t use a comma after however when it means ‘in whatever way’ i.e. However you looked at it, Kate was screwed.

Semicolons

The main task of the semicolon is to mark a break that is stronger than a comma but not as final as a full stop. It’s used between two clauses that balance each other and are too closely linked to be made into separate sentences i.e. Stark Tower isn’t the tallest building in Manhattan; the One World Trade Center is.

You can also use a semicolon as a stronger division in a sentence that already contains commas i.e The study showed the following: 76% of surveyed firms monitor employee Web-surfing activities, with 65% blocking access to unauthorized Internet locations; over one-third of the firms monitor employee computer keystrokes; half reported storing and reviewing employee emails; 57% monitor employee telephone behaviour, including the inappropriate use of voicemail. (Taken from oxforddictionaries.com)

Colons

There’s three main uses for a colon:

between two main clauses in cases where the second clause explains or follows from the list i.e. It wasn’t easy: to begin with, he had to tear down half his house.

to introduce a list i.e. Today Kate had to: clean her bow, bother Clint, get her nails done and do some laundry.

before a quotation and sometimes before direct speech i.e. The headline read: ‘Tony Stark Is Iron Man’.

#writing wednesday #ax modpost

[lillaxtrigger]

Young Hope: Chapter 26

Shining down upon the brickwork of an everyday city apartment, the evening sun gleams through the glass of one apartments kitchen window; the light shimmering upon the back of girl pouring a batch of cake mix into a bowl. Obstructing the light be the passing purple merc, who opens the fridge door and digs through its chilling contents; asking the baker: “You know where you keep your eggs?” “On the shelf at the top right.” the girl answers in soft, calming tone. “Right! See’em.” Following the bakers directions, Roy pulls out a trio of pure white large eggs from the depths of the fridge; holding all three of them in a single hand. The girl turns away from her bowl and to the approaching purple angel; her olive green eyes gazing to the mercs only hand in worry as she notices him having trouble clutching onto the trio of eggs; questioning if: “Are you sure you can hold them all? You look like your having trouble.” “Tsk...come on, bae, this is nothing. I’ve juggled worse shit than this. In fact...” Taking his words to heart, Roy begins to toss the large eggs right out from the palm and into the air; juggling all three of them with but his only hand. “Ye-e-eah! Look at this circus act. A whole month with just one arm and I can do the equivalent of a 6 year old’s birthday party act. Practically out showing a 20 bucks an hour clown in their own game.” While the purple merc show’s off the coordination of his single arm, the baker grows more worried as she continues to watch him juggle; standing further back and bumping right into her bowl full of batter. A few bits of the batter winds up escaping the contents of the bowl, splashing right next the merc’s feet; some of which Roy unfortunately steps in. Slipping right onto the batter causes Roy to fall flat on his back, tossing the eggs in his hand upward; soon to break all over the purple merc. Shielding herself from the splattering yolk, the girl glances down to the violet angel lying on the floor; Roy’s face showing to be covered in uncooked egg. The spilling sight draws out a charming little smile from her cheeks, a cute giggle escaping out from between her plush lips; this in turn drawing out the mercs own smile.

Once she finishes giggling, the girl reaches her tan brown hand out to the purple boy; Roy grasping her helping hand to be pulled off the floor. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” “Yeah...guess I kinda had it comin. Thanks Roxanne.” the merc thanks, brushing the bits of egg shell and yolk from the bakers red and brown striped spiked back bob hair. After a little giggle escapes her, Roxanne attempts to return the purple merc’s thanks with: “Don’t mention it. You just gotta be careful of where you-” Surprising the young girl, she feels the boy pull her right in and planting a soft kiss right upon her full lips; the sudden kiss causing her eyes to widen. Soon, both Roxanne and Roy break from the smooch, the purple merc discovering to have left the baker in shocking silence; Roy taking the silence with: “I know. Might be kinda early for that good stuff. But hey, we’ve been going steady on deck for about 2 weeks now. I figure why the hell not? Speaking of not waiting, I gotcha a little something?” “Huh?” the baker utters, watching as the merc strolls over to his backpack sitting in the corner of the kitchen. Plopping his backpack right on the marble counter, Roy begins to dig straight through its contents; pulling out a myriad of various objects. Items he sets aside be a couple of books, some pencils, a binder or two, a zip lock bag full of drugs, a few magical artifacts of questionable origin, a bulls heart, and a glass ball with muffling souls trapped within. “C’mon. I know I had it in here Where the hell is it?...Ha, there!” Pulling out from the mysterious depths of his pack, Roy presents to Roxanne a magnificently carved, small, glass like ice figure of the girl taking a graceful pose; surrounded by flame shaped ice enveloping her feet. Beholding the icy statue with her own two eyes, the girl could barely make a sound; left completely speechless by the figures reflecting beauty as she holds it in her hands. “Yep, it wasn’t easy to find somebody who could make never melt ice and shape it to your figure. Pretty much got lucky in all honesty. So, what do ya think? Does lookin at it make ya go “Hot damn, I look sexy as all fuck. The icy sheen really bring out my eyes and tight ass”? Bet it does, don’t it.” “I...I don’t know what to say. It’s-It’s amazing. We’ve only been going out for just about two weeks and you got me something this...beautiful.” “I thought it make up for all the sweet as hell treat you’ve been baking for me.” “I think I know just where to put it.” Saying such, the young baker walks out of the kitchen with her new icy decoration in hand; strolling straight into the neighboring living room.

Roxanne sets her newly acquired ice sculpture right dead in the center of her coffee table, letting out a small sigh as she stares upon its shinning cold surface; thinking that: “It’s still shocking that he gone through so much trouble just to get such a wonderful gift this early in our relationship. I really don’t have any idea what to say to him...Or what I will have to say to him. God, he’s just been so nice these past two weeks. I just have no idea how I’ll break it to him. I just hope that I can before its too late. I just don’t know what he’ll think of me.” “Holy fuckin jizz rockets! She is rockin that dress. Makes her breasts and butt look oh so spicy juicy…I wonder if she might be down for a threesome?” the merc ponders. “Will you quit being such a pervy horn dog for one minute and get your mind out of the whore house. You remember what your dear sister told you about taking things slow with this girl.” the goddess in his head advises. “I know, I know. A man can have wet dreams, can’t he? Truth be told, these past few week with sexy Roxy have made me happier then I’ve been in a long time. Its like a feeling that’s been dormant for a long time has risen from the depths of my dark, rustically cold soul. And rather taking the form in my indescribable pelvis pleasure pole, it boils somewhere high; somewhere more satisfying and warm...Kind of like my heart. But I forget what its called.” “Would you happen to be referring to the magically enchanting feeling called love?” “Maybe…All I’m feeling right now is some form of content. Like all is well in my little world. You know what that feels like?” “...I did.”

Returning from the neighboring living room, Roxanne grabs hold of the mixing bowl with both hands; reminding her house guest that its: “Time to get back to baking. Mind getting the chocolate chips out from the cabinet?” “Sure thing.” As the merc digs through the cabinet for his girls requested chocolaty chip, he can’t help but question if: “So you making all these sweets just to get on my sweet side; cause let me tell ya, its workin hell a fast.” “Nu uh, that ain’t it. I’m making all these treats for the team later on. Figured I’d be prepared and start now.” Setting the packet of chocolate chips down next to the stove top, Roy goes on to mentions how: “Oh right, that little team you went on about on our first date. You haven’t really brought up much else about them since then. You thinkin about introducing them to your boy someday?” “I don’t know. A girls gotta keep her secrets, ya know.” “Consider my lips sealed then.”

It’s in that moment do the two of them hear somebody’s phone go off, Roxanne pulling hers out from her skirt pocket to check the new message she’d just received from someone called Artemis. “Speaking of which, I just got a text from one of them...” Once having read what the message says, a sharp gasp is drawn inside her lungs; the mixing bowl dropping to the counter. “Oh...oh my god. She says we all been assigned to a mission. An actual mission this time!” “Don’t you guys go on those all the time?” the purple merc questions. “I mean kind of, but those just usually boil down to just doing laundry, picking up groceries, cleaning pets, and polishing weapons. It’s the first time the whole teams been assigned to do anything meaningful for once.” “Whoa, back up a sec there. Polishing weapons? Roxy, what kind of pre-nuclear war fallout after school club did you sign up for?” “I already told you that its a secret.” “Oh come on, it won’t hurt to tell me; I already swore not to open my mouth. Beside, I happen to be one hell of an expertise in fields like this, bringing me along might give ya the edge you need.” “Hmm...I don’t know. I haven’t really planned how I’ll introduce you to the team yet.” “Well, now’s a better time as any. Bettin seeing me in action would make one hell of an intro to them. Think it’s a plan?” From the purple merc’s insistent suggestion, it takes Roxanne a good moment to decide whether to take her recently meet boy friend along to meet up with the gang; with only having Roy’s faux innocent smile to give her any reassurance.

The setting sun finally disappears from the horizon, giving way to the countless stars shinning along Townsville’s night sky; none of which however shine within the dark veil of one of the city’s many alleys. Dwelling inside one particular alley, four figures blanketed in shadow stand in waiting; one of them watching where they step among the piles of trash and rats. “Ew ew ew ew ew! Just why!? Just why are meeting up with Roxy in this dank and disgusting alleyway? Why can’t we just meet up at the nearby seafood restaurant?” one of them with a feminine voice complains. “Why the hell you bitchin at all of us for? Baby blue Charles over here’s the one that shoved us in this trash heap.” another with a loud and sassy voice questions. “Because, we supposed to be staying hidden. We’re on the clock here. Walking around in public would defeat the entire purpose.” one with a guys voice explains. “Oh ho ho, you haven’t seen how much of a bad bitch I can be. I can kick your sorry slimy ass all the way back to the sewage treatment you spawned from if you want me to demonstrate.” “At least I got a juicy ass on me. You can barely count the flat smooth wooden boards on your backside that you sadly call a butt.” “At least my butt is cleaner then your nasty asshole!” the one girl screeches. “The fuck did you say about my ass motherfucker!” the other barks back. As the two girls bickering echo throughout the walls of the alleyway, their only male comrade lets out an irritated growl as he covers his ears; complaining on how: “Why the hell do I always have to be stuck babysitting these loud mouth brat. Its always just constant headaches with the two of them. At least Artemis had enough sense to bring headphone.” Gazing away from the pair of bickering children, the guys eyes are draw to the neon green hair of their forth member; calmly listening to the music that the headphones covering her ears put out. “Mmm. Just when in the hell is Roxanne going to get here. It’s almost been 30 minute since Artemis messaged her and she still hasn’t showed up. Almost afraid someone’s gonna crash this meeting at any moment.”

Right on queue, the two rooftop edges above them suddenly explode into tiny pieces; the lights above gleaming into the alley as the rubble rains down. As all of them cover their heads from the descending stone pieces as the dust blinds their view; one of the girl coughing up the clouds as she complains how: “Ah! Dammit, its in my mouth! Cak! Ak!” The sassier of the two lets out a mocking laugh from her partners suffering, spitting out small bits of rubble as she cackles. From the middle of the dusty cloud, all four of them soon witness a bulky figure stand between the four of them; their wings withdrawing into their back. “What in the blue blazes just crash landed! Artemis, open fire!” Charles demands. “There’s no need to!” the neon green girl calmly elaborates in a semi monotone voice. “What!? Why!?” “Because its who I asked to meet us!”

Parts of the dusty cloud begin to dissipate before them, revealing the olive green eyed girl come out from the dirt ridden shroud; two of the other girls approaching the recent arrival as they excitedly squee: “Roxanne!” The light from the newfound holes in the roofs reveal one of them to be a dirty blonde with long bangs and baby blue eyes, complementing their newly arrived teammate with: “Nice entrance there Roxy! Really attention grabbing and bombastic; cloudy reveal was a nice touch too.” The other to approach her shows to sport slimy chocolate brown skin plagued with lime green bulges across her arms and forehead, her pitch black pony tail stretching down to her wide hips; adding to the blondes statement with: “Yeah girl, what’s with the crashing entrance anyway? Bitch like you typically just go through the backdoor instead of bustin down the roof.” From the side, a pale blue skinned man with charcoal hair swipes the dust off his lab coat; adding to her question with how: “It’d sure make much less of a mess.” “I know, I know. I’m sorry for literally just dropping in like this. But he really wanted to make a good entrance.” “He?” the slime girl questions. “Who’s He.” the blonde follows.

As more of the rubble dust begins to settle from behind their comrade, the purple hue of another figure begins to their view; his violet hair waving in the passing alleyway wind. The dusty clouds finally part from the alley, unveiling to the rest of the team Roxanne’s newfound boyfriend; Roy’s wicked smile sending chills down most of their spines. Once making himself known to Roxanne’s pose, the purple merc begins to approach the two girl closest to him; both the blonde and slimy one backing away to the wall as Roy nears. “And what might these fine ladies names be?” “Un-Un-Uuhh...” the blonde stutters out. “You even think of tryin any shit with us, you getting a whole load of slime shoved down your throat!” the slime girl threatens. “Sounds pretty tasty.” the merc fires back. “Toxi’ander! Quit being so on edge and chill out. He won’t bite, I swear. Looks aren’t everything, you two.” Roxanne scolds. “Yeah Toxi, kinda figured you of all people would know a thing or two about that by now.” the blonde quips with a grin. “Excuse me! The fucks that supposed to mean!? You tryin to piss me off bitch!?” “Gigi! Stop trying to start arguments with her. It always just devolves into an insulting screaming contest between you two.” “Uh, xuse me! Who’s in charge here?” they hear Charles sarcastically question. Glancing to the side, all of them watch as the blue skinned guy approaches; continuing his reminder with: “I was stuck with the job of watching all you brats, so I’m the one running the show here.” To his statement, Roxanne can’t help but look away with a sour frown, mentioning under her breath how: “Should be me who’s in charge...” “Ya know Charles, that just fuckin priceless coming from you. Considering that you order us like grunts while you laze around on your ugly blue ass all day.” Despite hearing the slime girls scathing accusations, Charles simply just lets out a passive aggressive growl. “Hell, we coulda just wait at the back of some Denny’s while waiting for Roxanne and her new boy toy to show up. Least it wouldn’t be nearly as rank.” “Toxi!” Roxanne exclaims, blushing as red as a beat; all the while her “boy toy” behind her just busts out laughing. “I’m likin how spicy your friends are Roxy.”

Turning his gaze over to the blue skinned boy beside them, Roy then follows up by questioning: “Speaking of friends. What’s the deal with doctor blue balls M.D, specializing in testicular examination over here. You wound up getting trapped in a freezer while tryin to rob a bunch of chocolate cookie fudge bars from the ice cream shop.” “What?” “Cause if you have, I know you’re pain, pal. Took me about a week and a half just getting all the sharp icicles out of my nose. But those fudge bars were so fuckin worth it.” From this confusingly sympathetic insult, Charles catches the giggles of both Gigi and Toxi; backing up on how: “I was born with this blue skin.” “That unfortunately happens to be our leader.” someone with a semi monotone voice points out from behind. Glancing back, the merc comes face to face with a tall and well built pale skinned girl; her neon green flaming hair catching his eye. “And you must be Artemis. Gotta say, lovin the rockin green mane. Can you flambe stuff with ya green lit locks?”

A false attention grabbing cough reaching everyone’s ears, forcing everyone to turn their eyes back towards their blue skinned captain; hearing him state how: “Great! Now that we have introductions out of the way, How about we get back on track here. Roxanne, tell your purple lover to leave.” “Uh, about that Charles; he’s actually wanting to help us out on our little mission here.” “Yep, ain’t you all lucky to have me?” Almost everyone in the group jumps from their teammates sudden decision; Charles in particular questioning her choice with: “And when exactly were you gonna mention this little decision through us?” “Sorry, it was kind of a last minute decision. Didn’t Artemis read the text to you all?” Asking such, everyone’s gaze is turned towards the neon green girl; who could be seen reviewing the text and going: “Yep, she did. My bad.” “Still Roxy, you can’t just drag some random asshat on our assignments with us. The people at the top will throw a shit fit.” Gigi informs. “They let your flat ass in, didn’t they?” Toxi quips. “The hell did you say about my booty, bitch!?” “Excuse me! Just some random asshat!? Let me kindly remind y’all on how my girl and I crashed through the motherfuckin ceiling without so much as a scratch between either of us. Like to see any of you do that shit.” “So what, think that makes you better then any of us?” Charles accusingly wonders. “Gee, that kind of abrasive insecurity probably ain’t the best thing for a captain of a team like this to have. Ya practically have such a massive opportunity right in front of ya but just being too “Blue balled” to take it.” “Oh damn. Oh damn! OH DAMN! OH DAMN!” Toxi cries out; her astonishing swears echoing out beyond the entire alleyway.

Amidst his teammates astonished cries, Charles gazes to the purple merc in a silent, almost vengeful fury; all the while Artemis adds her own thoughts to the conversation with: “This is one of the first times our entire team has been assigned to any missions with any meaning beyond washing clothes and picking up food, we may need all the help we can get. With the kind of background that our purple guest’s profile informs, it could be more than enough to tip the scales in our favor.” “Oh ho! You read up on me, have ya? At least one of you guys is doing their homework.” “Hold up, Arti; background? Just what kind of stuff does this violet freak do?” Gigi questions. “His full name is Roy Shapen Donovan. He is an on demand work for hire mercenary with a caliber of achieving dangerous and high paying jobs for a multitude of shady organizations and political figures; capable of a multitude of darkness fueled powers and abilities that both employers and other mercs would describe as catastrophic and lethel. And that’s barely scratching the dozens of achievements and rumors that have spread through his career of nearly six years by now.” Through their teammates description of their purple guest reputation and profile, each one of them gaze upon the merc himself with encroaching skepticism, worry, and surprise; even Roxanne herself left astonished by his boys perceived profile.

“Aw, come on. Stop. Your makin me blush.” the merc himself sarcastically mentions. “Bitch please, as if his scrawny teenage ass has that kinda street cred to spare. He don’t even look like he washed his rank ass dick after fucking shit all night long.” the slime girl sasses. “Oh, and like you guys get any action. Cause from all I’ve been hearing, you girls barely get any. Tell ya what! I normally charge my services for one hell of a pretty penny; but since I’m really doing a favor for my one hell of a pretty penny; I’m offerin you lot the once in a lifetime chance free of charge discount. Order now and you’ll get the lovely souvenir of whose teeth I knock out first. Sound like a deal?” “Girls, even if Roy’s background is the teeniest bit exaggerated; it still may be a good idea to take him with us. We need all the help we can get for this mission.” “Whatever, I really think Charles should be the one to decide. He is our leader.” Gigi reminds with twinkling eyes towards the blue skinned captain. With everyone else soon directing their gaze towards the baby blue leader, Charles taking a moment to ponder to himself as he stare right to their purple guest; Roy’s less then welcoming smile making his whole spine shudder. After letting out his brief jitters, the blue captain finally gives his answer with: “Fine, whatever; he can come. Ask long as he keeps to himself, I don’t care.” “Oh for fucks sake!” Toxi screams out. “Thank you, Charles.” Roxanne thanks.

With a snap to his fingers, the purple merc points out to his new blue employer and states: “Looks like we struck ourselves a deal, baby blue. You won’t be regretting it anytime soon.” “You mean like I am right now?” “So, now that we got the business bullshit outta the way, which unlucky son of bitch are on our “Fuck over with a 5 foot razor wire string up the bum” today?” “Our...O-Our assignment that the higher ups have given to all of us is to procure a very special gemstone that can conduct a myriad of power sources; including but not limited to electric, plasma, radiation, positive and negative ions, kinetic energy, and even quantum energy. From light to dark, from hot to cold, this jewel can take in and distribute untold amounts of power.” “So if this bling we got here’s as badass as you say it is, why the hell would they send us to gank it?” Toxi questions. A small chuckle escaping from the blue skinned captains lungs, he goes on to mention how: “I thought it was pretty obvious. This little assignment of our is a test. A mission to determine if were worthy to rise in the rank. They probably have a lot of faith to leave this job to us personally.” Shattering Charles’ motivating speech be the neon green haired girl herself when she corrects him on how: “Actually, it was because literally everybody else was busy. Everyone was on their own missions and assignment, so they simply stuck us with this one.” “Agh, I knew it was too good to be true! Why else would they stick this job to us?” Gigi complains. From hearing Artemis’ correction, a small hiss escapes from the mercs teeth; claiming how: “Sounds like you guys got pretty sloppy seconds. Think the best thing you girls can do now it try and make the most of it.” “Roy’s right. Who cares if this job just got dumped on us. It’s still our job at the end of the day. Lets just give it our best and show them that this C team can pull off a fantastic A+”

As the rest of the crew cheers from Roxanne’s motivational speech, Charles takes a quick glance to his phone to find a blinking dot nearing their location; grabbing back everyone’s attention with: “Look sharp, girls. Our coveted prize is nearing its destination.” “If that’s true then we need to move out now. Come on!” Artemis orders, passing right beside Charles alongside everyone who follows her lead. The blue leader himself is left spun and dizzy by his passing teammates, shaking off the daze as he chases after his leaving team as he reminds them: “Hey! Hey! Don’t leave without your captain!”

Through the stretches of Townsville’s city roads, an armored truck drives along past a couple of other vehicles; turning into what seemed to be a far less pleasant part of town. The truck eventually makes its stop along the side of a less then welcoming building; two police officers stepping out of the front and strolling out to the back. Opening up the back doors, the two cops uncover a box made from titanium; dressed with coded and psychical locks abound on all of its sides. Even with the case’s imposing weight, the two officers manage to heave it right out of the armored trucks back; dragging the locked titanium box across the ground.

Between the alleyway of a couple of buildings across the street, everyone watches as both cops haul the case right inside the seemingly bland looking abode. “Why in the hell would these motherfucka’s bring out such powerful bling to this shithole? It makes no damn sense.” Toxi questions. A quick snicker passing through her lips, the blonde among them insults the slime girl with: “Jeez, I knew you were thick. But I didn’t think you were this bad?” “The fuck you sayin, ya blonde bitch!?” “I mean it’s obvious by now that they’re taking it to an underground lab just below there.” “Oh, now I know your just bullshitin us. The fuck makes you so sure.” “From experience, duh. A good couple of my dads labs are built under decrepit buildings like this so nobody finds them out in plain site. Pretty basic there, Toxi.” “She’s right you know.” Roy than weighs in. Hearing the merc so confidently confirm the blondes guess, everyone looks to Roy as he focuses at the buildings grounds; following his statement with: “I can sense me about several people scuttling around beneath that dump. About...30, 35 people I’d say.” “The fuck can you know that? Wait, lemme guess; it’s one of your daaaark powers, ain’t it?” the slime girl questions, putting a mocking emphasis on dark. “Somethin along the lines of that. Its just practically frosty dip n dots to what else I can do. Just wait til you see the whole damn sundae.”

“Is it possible for you to map out the entire facility?” Artemis wonders. “Eh, not really. Can really only see the people scampering around down there...that and the bugs n rodents.” “Guessin those “Senses” of yours aren’t as reliable as you boast, huh?” Charles snides. “Charles, quit being so mean! It still helps, doesn’t it?” Roxanne scolds, soon glancing over to the neon green girl. “He’s right. Even if he can’t map out the place, having constant knowledge of the enemies position is invaluable nonetheless during our mission. We need to handle all of this with as much precision and care as possible. Trip any kind of alarms, any patrol or staff spotting us, any camera’s watching our moves could alert authorities to our presence and risk loosing our target entirely.” “So you mean like with stealth and stuff? Uuuggh! That’s so boring, though. When are we gonna get to the good part and kick people’s shin’s” Gigi complains. “As much as I like your spirit blondie, rockin neon green’s got a point there. Don’t wanna wreck too much shit and risk losing our coveted mcguffin.” “Sounds like y’all just makin up the plan then. How the hell we even get inside?” Toxi questions. “I plan for us all to simply dig out way in.” Charles butts in. “Too noisy. We’d risk drawing too much attention to ourselves.” Artemis denies. “True...though doing it somewhere else might be better.” the merc suggests. “Like where.” Gigi asks.

Down within the darkness, the light of the city shines down a dank sewer tunnel as a manhole cover is pulled right off; the panicking cries of the blonde echoing through the brickwork. “Ew! Ew! Ew! Ew! Ew! Ew! Ew! Ew! Hell, no! You are not making me go through that disgusting sewer! Nuh! No way!” Gigi screeches as everyone begins to descend down into the tunnel. Before Roy and Roxanne could descend down to join the others, she attempts to talk her reluctant teammate into joining them with: “Come on, Gigi. We have to go down here. There’s no other way inside.” “Absolutely not! I’m not being caught dead going down there!” “Are you getting through to her?” “Sorry Artemis, she isn’t moving.” Roxanne states, glancing down the manhole. “You’re damn right I ain’t moving! There ain’t no way in hell I’m setting one foot in that rancid dank shit hole!” “Jeez, girl. Your screamin like a fuckin macaw getting its wings twisted up. Move it!” the purple merc demands. “It ain’t even that bad down here, really. It’s pretty clean here for a sewer tunnel. I ain’t seeing shit down here.” the blue skinned captain confirms. “You’re not helping Charles.” the baker girl claims. “I don’t care how clean it is! I’m not jumping down! No, if’s, and’s, or buts!” the blonde enforces. “Aw, what’s the matter girl; ain’t brave of a bitch enough to come down here?” Toxi taunts. “Shut up, you slime stain! You belong down there and you know it!” “Why don’t you come down here and say that to my face!?” Taking Toxi up on her taunting words, the blonde delves right past Roxanne; the sounds of their fighting ringing through the tunnel. Glancing to one another, both Roy and Roxy shrug off the matter before heading down the manhole; the merc placing the iron cover back on as they descend.

While the entire group travel through the brickwork tunnels lying underneath the city roads, they find their blue leaders words to be right on point; the floors and walls of the tunnel being very clean and tidy for a sewer. As their purple haired guest leads the way through the underground tunnels, the neon green girl of their team questions them all: “While we have some time on our hands, mind if I ask what our plan might be once we break in; cause we are literally marching out towards our destination and I haven’t heard a single one of us come up with one.” Its then that another fake cough draws the entire crews attention, all of them glancing back towards their baby blue captain before he goes on to explain: “If you would all be so kind as to let your leader speak up for once, I got us an idea may let us get our prized mcguffin scott free.” “And that would be?” Roy questions. “While I move out towards the surveillance room and disable the security. Toxi shall await until given the go to move out towards where the gem is and melt through whatever containment that they have it stowed away in. Her plasmic acid being as corrosive as it is, she should have next to no trouble melting through.” “So, how we settin up teams, then? Who goes with who?” Toxi questions. “I think I’d be better off waiting with Toxi then. Better to stick with her and keep her out of trouble so the mission isn’t a bust.” Roxanne offers. “Wherever my flamin hot spicy sweet pepper goes, I’m stickin right alongside her.” Roy adds, picking up Roxanne and holding her in his arms; all the while the girl herself looks to the merc with a faux smile. “If that’s the case, then it’s best that I go with Charles. Our leaders lack of overall combat experience may make him a very vulnerable target.” “Tsk, are you kidding me? I’m not that much of a pushover. I watched my Mom spar with a couple of people. I can totally fight. Watch!” In hopes of proving the neon green girl wrong, the baby blue captain attempts to show off what little punches and kicks that he could muster; his long lab coat flapping in the air as the young man flails about. Charles lack of proper balance eventually gets the better of him however, kicking a little too hard and making his own lab coated ass fall flat onto the slit of water underneath them.

As her blue leader begins to pick himself back up, Gigi can’t help but give a suspicious glare over to Roxy’s new purple boy toy; worry and anxiety beginning to boil within her as she stares to Roy’s devious, almost perverse smile. “I...I think that Charles might need more protection then you think, Arti. Maybe our new purple pal here should go with you two instead.” the blonde suggest. “Hol up, what?” the merc mutters, putting his girl back down. From her teammates suggestion, Artemis ponders to herself for a moment; mentioning how: “I think that might be a tad unnecessary, Gigi. I’m sure I have plenty of artillery that could efficiently-” In the midst of her denial however, the neon green girl takes a closer glance to the blonde herself; noting the anxious gaze in her eyes shifting over in the merc’s direction. “Uh…On-On second thought. There could be a lot more patrols and guards to worry about on our way to the surveillance room. Our guests specific abilities could lend well in navigating the facility and hiding from any potential witnesses.” “Guessin that just leaves Roxy and the blonde bitch and I to wait here while y’all take care of business.” Toxi reviews. “Ugh, why do we have to wait!? I-” the blonde begins to complain, but stops when considering that she was the one who suggested the teams to be like they are. “Uh...nev-nevermind. Forget it!” “Are you sure you wanna wait with us, Gigi? You can go with them if you want to. We don’t mind.” Roxanne asks. “No no no no! I’m sure; believe me. I’d probably just get in their way anyway.” Gigi insists.

It’s after discussing all this does the merc stop the crew right in their tracks; all of them pumping into one another from the abrupt stop. “Ah, what the hell; ya purple prick! Why we stop for?” Toxi aggressively questions their violet guest. “Last stop, ladies; we’ve reached out destination. Over to our right is the basement you wanna bust into; the people inside passing through with none being the wiser.” “So, you really can sense everyone passing right beside us?” Gigi questions. “Yep. All the little people scurrying and working around like little mice. Betting some of them in there are fuckin like mice too.” “If they’re literally right next to us, it might not be a good idea to break in from here. Maybe we should bust in from somewhere else so we don’t draw as much attention.” Roxanne suggest. “Good call there, Foxy Roxy. Glad to know you got brains behind that flamin hot bod.” the purple merc compliments. “Aw, thanks Roy. Really, its why I should be the leader of this team.” “Speaking as the actual leader of this team, where exactly can we break in from here?” Charles cuts in. “Mmm. Let’s see.” Roy ponders aloud as he stares towards the intersection ahead.

The entire team are then caught off guard when their violet guest starts sprinting further down the tunnel; witnessing the merc taking the right of the intersection ahead. “Roy! Hold up! Wait!” Roxy panics as her and the rest of the crew rush in pursuit of the merc. Coming right around the corner, all of them witness Roy’s gaze fixated to a certain spot of the tunnels brickwork; the team approaching the merc as Toxi questions: “Roxy, the fuck is wrong with your boy toy!?” “You find a way inside, Roy?” the merc’s girl wonders. “I think. Among the bugs and rats scuttling along the walls, there’s a little nest of mice wiggling around on the other side here. If they haven’t noticed them all yet, then I’m betting its our safest ticket in.” Saying this, the purple merc turns back towards the rest of the approaching team, asking if: “One of you guys mind carving the way in?” “And why can’t you just bust a hole through it like how you crashed our little meeting?” Gigi snidely questions. “Because if he did, it be the quickest way to announce to the entire facility that were crashing their little research party.” Artemis swiftly points out. “Ding ding! Right on the mark. Your neon green compadre is scoring all A’s on this little test of your’s. I’d suggest the rest of you start taking note.” “Then if we can’t punch through it, how the hell are we supposed to get in.” the blonde questions. Eager to answer such a question herself, the slime girl shoves Gigi out of her way as she steps up; claiming that: “Outta the way, bowlcut bitch; stand back while I work my magic.” Their gooey comrade warning such, everyone stands aside as Toxi approaches the tunnel wall; stretching herself as she faces the brickwork that Roy pinpointed. The slime girl then slaps the palms of her hands right onto the brick wall, smothering her slimy hands across the hard stone side of the tunnel; a thick trail of sludge left behind as she trails her hands across the side. The sludge immediately begin to bubble and boil along the wall, eating away at the tunnels brickwork until parts of the other side could be seen. The slime girls acidic sludge makes quick work of the sewer tunnels wall, soon creating a sizable way inside what seemed to be a janitors closet; a scurry of rats scuttling out into the tunnel.

Once the way inside was clear, Roy was the first of them to enter; his senses letting him feel the life force of the people passing through the hall on the other side. “Right, just a couple more people passing along til we’re clear.” the merc informs. Their purple guest saying such, Charles turns towards both Gigi and Toxi and questions them if: “Now, can I trust you two to not make as much noise while we go out to take out the camera’s? Cause the last thing we need is for the two of you to throw a shit fit over which color dress you think is cuter or whatever and get the attention of anybody passing through.” “Charles, chillax. I’m sure I can get Gigi to keep her damn mouth shut for a least 5 minute.” the goo girl informs. “And you don’t got a worry about slimy Toxi here. I make her nasty ass mouth stays shut.” the blonde reassures. As both girls look to one another with vindictive scowls, Charles can’t help but let out a painful sigh; soon feeling Roxanne pat his back as she assures that: “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure they stay out of trouble.” “Thanks Roxy.” “We promise not to take long.” Artemis vows.

As he peeks out from the janitor closet door, the purple merc is happy to inform the rest of the team that: “And that’s when the halls are nooooooow clear! It’s now or never people; move your sexy asses!” Hearing this warning, both Charles and Artemis rush out towards the door; the merc himself bidding farewell as they pass by with: “See ya bae. Meet back with ya when we got shit to wreck.” Saying his goodbye’s, Roy follows out into the hall and shuts the door behind them, leaving the rest of the girls to wait within the sewer tunnels. “Ugh! I can’t believe all we can do is just stand here waiting in this dank sewer shithole while the three of them get to have fun.” the blonde complains. “Might I remind yo flat ass that this was part of your idea to begin with. What yo expect when going on a mission; you gotta get yer hands dirty. So quit your whining and shut yo mouth!” “The only reason that you’re here in the first place is cause your slimy ass excretes so much nasty acid mucus that it sends people running!” Gigi barks back. “Bitch, I’ll melt yo sorry flat ass if you don’t shut yo mouth.” “Why don’t you slither over here and make me!” Falling for the blondes taunts, the slime girl starts chasing Gigi along the stretching sewer tunnel; all the while leaving Roxanne so done with their bullshit.

From around the corner of the clean hallway, Artemis peeks out to the hall ahead; discovering a couple of scientists traveling along its polished marble. “And there they are.” she whispers. After the two researcher turn the opposite corner, the neon green girl turns back to both the blue and purple boys behind her; informing the violet merc that: “Seems like your senses aren’t a lie after all. And here I though until this point, you’ve been going off of blind guesswork alone.” “He he, guessin your not the blindly gullible type?” “I still have...some doubt.” “I like that. What I don’t like is figuring out how to get to this control room.” In saying this, both Artemis and him the turn towards their baby blue comrade; Charles softly groaning before question: “Your having me figure that out? How I supposed to know where it is in this secret club house basement?” “Because it was part of your plan smartass. You really just expect us to check every room in this damn scientist orgy dungeon til we just happen stumble on it?” Roy scolds. “We don’t have nearly that kind of time. We need to find a way to get to the control room, now.” “Alright, fine, Jesus. I guess we can hack a computer somewhere and get a map of the place.” “That’s the spirit.” Roy claims grasping his only hand upon the shoulder of Charles lab coat; soon dragging his big blue ass across the polished marble of the underground hall.

Further along the clean confines of the facility’s halls, a single researcher dances to the music in his earphones as he strolls by; passing right under a lone camera underneath. The music in her ears prove more of an unseen hindrance however, as she fails to catch the glimpse of the barrel of the rifle behind him. The silencer barrel fortunately for her isn’t aimed at his occupied ass, instead fancying the camera above; the rifle firing out a single bullet to the surveillance equipment. Though the bullet leaves no physical damage, the energy it releases proves more than enough to disable it; the camera going completely dead. While distracted by the music in her ears, the researchers dancing stroll is put to a sudden stop once bumping into somebody in front of her; gazing down to discover the purple mercs ominous smile. “Who the-” Before the scientist could finish questioning where the violet young man came from, she feels the merc hand tightly grasp at her mouth; her panicking screams muffled by the boys single palm.

From behind the closed door of a nearby supply closet, the researcher finds herself bound upside down against the closet wall via duct tape; the neon green girl listening to the music that she was once dancing to. “Let me go, dammit! Do you honestly have any idea what we’re doing here?” “Energy transfer and application use?” Charles guesses while digging through the contents of the supply closet. “How-how did you know?” “The equipment you got stashed here pretty much says it all. You guys got some real state of the art stuff stowed in here.” “She has pretty good tastes in music too. For this, she may live another day.” Artemis claims, taking off the researchers ear buds. “Ya hear that, my sultry scientist. Seems like it’s you lucky day after all. Though if I were in your sort of peculiar position, I’d both be aroused and willing to cooperate answer whatever questions your captive may have. Else they might make you wish you were dead.” Roy warns, a sinister smile drawn across his cheeks.

Seeing the mercs less that inviting grin proves more than enough to send chills up the researchers upside down spine; the scientist questioning them: “What do you people even want?” Her questions are put on hold indefinitely when feeling something jabbing her tapped arm, glancing over to discover the neon green girl jamming the barrel of her technological rifle into her side as she reminds her that: “We’ll be asking the questions here. First one, where might the nearest computer terminal be?” “D-down the hall to the right, take two lefts; right from the three way intersection; third door you see.” “What are you guys doing with this little gem you have?” Charles then cuts in. “We-we had it delivered from the famous museum in downtown New York. We were hoping to utilize it to solve a potential energy crisis.” “And the final question!” Roy exclaims, his eyes drifting away from the scientist and to Artemis. “Are we really here on a mission to steal this gem from them.” he questions the neon green girl. “Yeah.” “Okay, cool. Just wanting to make sure. Let’s head out.” Having been told the direction to the nearest computer, both Roy and Artemis ready to head back into the hall; glancing back to find their baby blue leader still rifling around the stored equipment. “Quit digging around and come on, Charles. We’re leaving.” the neon green sniper states. “Just give me a minute. I wanna see what else these government lackies have stashed away.” “Right now, young man.” Roy sarcastically scolds, grasping the shoulder of Charles lab coat as he drags him away from the lab equipment. As the trio head towards the door of the walk in closet, the researcher attempts to warn them that: “No, stop! You can’t take the jewel away from us. We could save potential thousands with its power. Don’t-” But before the scientist could beg them any further, her mouth is swiftly tapped shut when Roy slaps a piece of duct tape over her; the sound of her muffling being what can only escape as she watches her captors leave her inside.

Following the directions that their captive had oh so kindly given them, the trio continue their stealthy travels through the underground facility; Roy soon sensing the life force of a few staff approaching. Silently warning his two escorts of the oncoming staff, he points over to the door nearby; all three of them scuttling inside before the two guard turn the corner. As the merc had sensed, a couple of armed security staff nonchalantly pass right through the hall; not even paying any mind to the door that their unknown intruders had hid behind. Once the two policemen pass right on through, Roy emerges from the other side of the room that both him and his comrade hid; silently directing them to continue with him.

In the midst of guiding both Artemis and Charles through the polished white halls, Roy is about to turn through the next corner; soon feeling the back of his hood being snagged back just inches from the corner. Glaring back, he discovers his neon green teammate having grabbed hold of his hood; Artemis soon stepping in front of him to take a quick peek around the corner. After seeing what lies along the other side, she turns back towards her violet partner, pointing out towards the top of the hall beyond. Coming back to the front, Roy looks out to where Artemis had pointed towards; spotting a lone camera perched between the opposing hallways. Back towards his posse, the purple merc gives the neon green sniper a thumbs up while making way for her to move in; Artemis peeking the barrel of her sniper rifle down the hallway. Her crosshair aimed right to the camera above, she fires her bullet right into the camara’s side; causing the piece of surveillance equipment to go completely dead. Artemis having taken care of the camera, Roy once more takes the lead, all three of them taking the right like their help little informant had told them.

Coming upon the third door down the hallway, the three scurry right inside before anyone could see; soon finding themselves within what looked to be a small office space. In the middle of the office stood a lone desk decorated with pictures of people, presumably of friends and family; all of which surrounding a lone computer displaying a simple password screen. Passing between his two escorts, Charles makes his way around the office desk to the seat on the other side, ploping his lab coated ass right onto the padded chair and typing away as he tells the two escorters that it: “Should be pretty easy to pull up a map from this thing; just gimme a minute or two to work.”

“And since we got a minute, I got something to ask you that’s been bugging me.” Artemis states with her eyes drifting to the purple merc. “Sure thing, what you wanna know? Bank accounts, previous jobs, slaughtered enemies? I’m an open book.” “How in the hell did someone like you wound up getting with somebody like Roxanne?” “Oh, that? That’s piss easy. See, one day I was flying low through downtown; getting back from school and going to meet up with my bro somewhere. That’s when I wound up seeing sexy Roxy herself strolling through the streets; one look of her face being all she needed to make me fall head over heels for her...and straight into traffic. After climbing out of the crater that no doubt caused numerous accidents and traffic jams, I race over toward Roxanne herself and asked her out then and there; simple as that.” “That’s...admittedly a rather bold move. Right after taking such a humiliating and destructive spill like that; you just rushed out and asked the girl who just watched. I’m more shocked how she said yes after watching all that play out in front of her.” “That’s what life’s all about, my neon green rocker. Learning how to get right back up after being brutally butt fucked by the massive throbbing cock of misfortune.” “Definitely not the way I would word it, but I get what you mean. A lesson that Roxanne is no doubt familiar with too. The poor girl.” Hearing Artemis comment such makes the merc drop is snarky demeanor for a moment, mild concern spread across his face as he wonders: “What do you mean?”

“And I got it. Cracked wide open like a freshly pulled scallop.” Charles declares, both Roy and Artemis glancing over to witness Charles giving them a smug smile. “Hot damn, man; that fast!? You cracked that open in like minute. And here I though you were just these girls whipping boy?” “Wasn’t that hard, really. Can you believe that these government assholes were using a previous gen operating system? I’d be pretty damn embarrassed if I had that on even my laptop.” “Charles, did you pull up the map or not?” Artemis questions. “Yeah, okay. Here. Don’t need to be so pushy.” the blue skinned captain confirms, turning the computer monitor over towards the two. The monitor showing the floor plan of the underground facility, Artemis takes a quick picture of the map on screen; reviewing it and mentioning how: “Seems that the surveillance room to the right end of the facility. And according to this, we’re on the left most bottom.” “If that’s the case, then we best get movin. Who knows how much longer the girls can take sittin around in that tunnel. No doubt Roxy can only hold both the blond and her slimy rival from tearing each other into chunky beef broths for so long.” A small chuckle escaping from underneath her breath, Artemis turns over towards her blue skinned leader and orders him to: “Agreed. Come on, Charles. We need to move.” “Agh, fine. Just about to log off anyway.” Right after logging out of the lone computer, Charles joins the other two as they prepare to head back through the halls; the merc making his way out of the office with both the hacker and sniper at his back.

Back within the dank wet tunnels of the sewers, the rest of the team await to hear word from the others; each of the girls passing the time on their phones. While attempting to look through social messages, Toxi’s ears can’t help but catch Gigi’s obnoxious giggling; the blondes echoing laughter literally driving the slime girl up the curving brickwork. “Arrgh! The fuck you laughin at, ya blonde bowlcut?” “My gossip blog is trending so hard right now. Posting photo’s of Victor’s porn collection was a juicy one.” “Oh wow, that’s great. How long do ya think it’ll be before ya wind getting your flat ass bitten off from this shit.” “I don’t know how he’s gonna find out. The guy can’t read, remember?” “Bitch, that ain’t the point. This whole gossip shit is gonna get yo teeth punched out sooner or later; and I’m grabbin be a bag of popcorn when you bitin the curb.” “Tsk, your just jealous that you didn’t have the brains to come up with it first.” “Oh…Oh ho...Oh ho ho...” Hearing the blondes insulting defense, the slime girl starts to slither over toward the side of the tunnel where Gigi stands; questioning if: “Did you really just fuckin went there, motherfucker!? Tell me you did not fuckin say that!” “Bitch you know I did. And you know what else? I got more a lot more brains than you to build my own damn gadgets. Bombs, master keys, holograms, weapons, even my own personal robot assistant that hovers around and makes milkshakes for me. You nasty ass acid can even come close to my technological prowess, bitch!” “My slimy acid is about to melt through yo brains if you don’t shut you fuckin trap.” “Why don’t you try and make me?” Gigi screams. Before either of the girls could tear into eachother, Roxanne comes between them just in time to split them up; scolding the two of the with: “Stop it, you two! We supposed to be hiding in here! Someone might here us with you two having a screaming contest.”

Once seeing Toxi back off, Roxy turns her attention over to the blonde, requesting to her with: “Gigi, can you please keep it down while you mess around with your gossip blog? We’re trying to keep things on the down low.” “Yeah sure, Roxy. Ya know, speaking of rumors; what’s the deal with you and your new boy?” Gigi eagerly asks. Taken aback by her teammates sudden question, Roxanne stumbles back from the blonde: “W-What? What are you talking about?” “Oh come on, Roxy! Don’t play coy with us! How many bases did you and him run through in under two weeks? 1st, 2nd, 3rd, home run and victory lap?” “No! Nothing like that! All we done is just some hugging and a kiss. No more.” “Really, that’s all? He hasn’t made any moves on you?” the blond questions with disappointment. “Not really. Though something tells me that he might be wanting two. It honestly feels like Roy is restraining himself sometimes.” “Purple piece of shit better.” both of them hear, glancing back to witness Toxi approaching to join in their conversation. “If he thinks of tryin any of that nasty shit on you girl, I’m gonna smack his sorry violet ass straight to hell.” “Toxi, don’t say that!” “Girl, can you blame me even? Creepy ass motherfuckin lookin like he crawlin out of the bowls of some B rated horror shlockbuster. Why the hell you bothering to shell yo sweet as to his purple creep anyway?” “Ah...It’s kinda hard to explain.” Roxanne admits. “Go on girl, we got the time.” Gigi assures.

“Well, it kinda started one day about two weeks ago when I was walking back from school to the hospital to see how my little brother was doing, when out of nowhere something just crashed like a falling comet in the middle of the road; caused a couple accidents, but nothing serious. I race over to see what landed along with tons of other people nearby and we all found that it was this purple hooded teenager, getting up in the middle of the crater he made; just like that, no injury, totally fine.” “He really just happen to crash right in front of you. What was he doing before?” Gigi asks. “I don’t know, I never asked him. But apparently it wasn’t that important since he crawled right out of it and asked me on the spot on a date.” “And you said yes? Why?” Toxi questions. “He had these eyes like he a lost puppy. Like was silently begging me not to turn him down; especially with literally everybody watching. How could I possibly say no with all that?” “So he just put you on the spot, what a dickhead?” Gigi states. “I don’t...think he meant to put me on the spot like that. He seemed just so...geniune.” “So what you plannin to do now?” Toxi wonder. A small panicked groan leaves through Roxanne’s lungs before she admits that: “God, I don’t know. I knew this was a really bad idea, but I didn’t wanna break his heart. I just don’t know how I’m gonna get outta this, especially since I’m still da-”

Just before she could finish her statement, the girl shuts her own mouth mere moments before saying something she’d know she’d regret blabbing about. In doing so however, she sparks the curious gazes of both her two present teammates; Toxi being the first to asks: “Girl, what were you about to say?” “No-Nothing! You what j-just forget I said anything.” “Oh no way. You gotta spill it now. I’m feelin some real rumor juice sloshing in you. And I ain’t stopping til its squeezed out.” “Come on, Roxy. What’s the deal here?” Toxi joins in. As both girl continue to push for info, they soon back the poor girl against the tunnel wall; feeling the brickwork scrape against her back a she continues to feign ignorance with: “Really girls, its nothing. I swear.”

Thankfully for the baker, a forth voice then reaches their ears; their eyes glancing back towards the hole in the wall as someone in janitorial attire waltz’s inside and wonders: “Why the hell is there a giant hole in the closet? I-” In that moment does the guy discover the three girls within the breached sewer tunnels; nothing but silence echoing through the brickwork as they simply all stare at one another. Breaking the silence, all three of them lunge forth towards the janitor; tackling the poor guy and shutting his mouth just before he could cry out for help.

Casually strolling through the white halls of the facility, a lone researcher turns the corner to find a single armed patrol approaching; a smile planted across his cheeks as he greets the officer with: “Evening Marty! How’s the family?” “All good Pat. The kids are doing amazing in school this year.” “Guess its quite an improvement from last year, ain’t it?” “Don’t mention it, Pat...Just seriously don’t.” Both passing beside the only door in the hall, neither of them were the wiser of the trio hiding on the other side; the door cracking open to let out the silent barrel of Artemis’ rifle squeeze out. The guns barrel aimed out to the camera perched along the corner, she fires her rifles straight into the camera’s side; the bullet she shot out disabling the surveillance equipment for the time being. Once having took care of the camera, Artemis and her two comrades move beyond the door and continue their stealthy venture through the underground facility; taking the path that the armed patrol went through.

While the lone facility guard wanders along the polished marble halls, he fails to notice the three intruders encroaching around the corners behind him; that is until he begins to hear the faint sound of their footsteps echoing nearby. Curious of the quiet taps sounding off behind him, the patrolman swiftly turns back to see where exactly its coming from; confused to discover not a soul at his back. A nervous breath escapes his lunges as he starts to approach the corner that he turned from; taking a tight grip of his firearms the closer he nears the end. Finally, he jumps out to the other side of the corner with his weapon aimed down the hall, finding not a soul awaiting him. A relaxed breath then passes through his lips as his guard dissolves, shaking his helmeted head as he turns back; telling himself to: “Calm down, Marty. Your just hearing things. Just think of the time you and Donny shared a kiss under the tree, should calm ya right down.” In telling himself this, the guard returns to his patrol route while calming himself; unaware of the intruders he grew paranoid of hiding along the next corner beyond. Once sensing the guards departure, Roy leads both of his comrades further through the facility, continuing on route through the guards patrol path.

Dwelling within the dimmy lit confines of the surveillance room, countless screens of dozens of camera feeds light the small darkened room, a lone staff member sat right in front of the glowing screens. Despite some of the screens clearly displaying the camera’s blacked out, this obvious warning sign goes completely unchecked by the staff member sitting right in front of them; the man having drifted off into a peaceful slumber. The sleeping staff member also remains unaware of the three intruders standing right beside him as he rest; the purple merc crouching to the slumbering man’s level and claiming: “Awww. Ain’t we just a little sleepy weepy. Dumb bastards takin a little snoozy cruise while were breakin and fucking with his shit. I just wanna pinch his little cheeks.” Turning the mans swiveling chair to face him, Roy pinches the man’s cheeks to disturb his slumber; the watcher mumbling to him if: “Is there more apple juice in the fridge, mommy?” “Yes sweetie. I got your apple juice right here.” Roy jest, soon clocking the poor bastards right in the face; the watcher stumbling to the marble floor. After taking care of the camera watcher, Charles swiftly takes his seat; turning back towards the security control panel and stating that: “Should only be a few minute to turn their security system into a poor example of government kept upkeep.”

As their blue skinned friend works his magic on the security system, both his purple and neon green escorters stand aisde; Artemis turning back to their violet guest and questions him with: “So, keeping on topic about Roxanne. What do you plan to do with her in the future?” “Eh, not to sure, really. Why’re you takin an eye with the two of us being a thing? You lime green jelly?” “I’m just worried about the kind of stuff you might try on her. The way you’ve acted during this entire ordeal hasn’t really reassured me that you’re not as mentally well rounded for her. Not to mention what I’ve read on your profile not giving me much hope either.” “We’ll, glad I’m breaking some expectations at least.” “I’ve only been with this group for about 3 months now; and so far, Roxanne is really the only one out of this team that I’ve held any respect for.” “Eh, you wanna think about rewording that a bit there?” Charles question. “Despite the others lack of effort and poor direction, Roxanne is the only one of us that has a palpable reason to be with us besides obligation or insecurities.” “Seriously, I’m right fucking here. Would it kill you not to at least talk crap about me in literal earshot?” “In the time that I’ve been with everyone here, Roxy has been like a little sister to me; comforting and caring through all the harsh and horrible times and vice versa. So I’m sure you can understand me when I say to you that...” Cutting herself off, the girl with the neon green flame main steps intensely closer to the merc with a threatening glare; promising that: “If you do so much as make her cry even a single tear, I will snipe your purple haired skull straight between the eyes; do I make myself clear.” “It’s a promise then? Better hope you not miss.” Roy states with a smile. “I never miss.”

After this exchange, the two of them hear their blue skinned hacker give another attention baiting cough; both Artemis and Roy glancing back towards Charles as he informs that: “If you two are done hate flirting over there, I disabled the security system and erased all the footage. Which one of you want to text the girls.” “How bout I-” Roy attempts to suggest while pulling out his phone. Just before he could finish, his neon green comrade cuts him right the fuck off; pulling out her own phone and insisting that: “I will tell them.”

Back inside the dank brickwork of the sewer tunnels, the girls had just finished taking care of the janitor that waltzed in their little hiding spot; tying the poor bastard to the piping above via a moving metallic rope. “And you thought that the little metal rope snake I thought of was a stupid idea. Self tying rope that coils around somebody to trap them and keep their mouths shut, what the hell made you think it was a dumb idea.” Gigi boasts to her slimy comrade. “Bitch, it’s a stupid ass idea cause its just a fuckin metal rope that moves. How the hell you don’t think that’s stupid.” Toxi claims. “Girls, just quit fighting already! This is exactly what almost got us caught in the first place.” “Tell her to quit spewin bullshit and I’ll stop.” the slime girl claims. “Tell this slimy stain to shut her damn trap!” the blonde mentions. Just before either of them could pick up their argument where it left off, all of them hear the sound of Roxanne’s phone going off; Roxy pulling it out to check her messages as Gigi asks: “Is that them?” “Don’t know. Let me see. Uh...Yep! They just disabled the security. Even sent us a map telling us where the gem is.” “And where’s it say it is?” the slime girl wonder. “See here...Oh wow’ its not that far actually. Just a couple halls away.” “The hell are we waiting for then. Lets get movin!” Gigi proclaims as she rushes out towards the hole in the tunnel. “No. Gigi, hang on.” Roxy plea’s as both her and Toxi coming running after.

With the security camera’s disabled, the three girls sneak through the polished white halls with caution in their step, tiptoeing along the marble floor so not to draw any attention. They soon peek out from around the oncoming corner, discovering on the other side a single door with two guards standing at its side; Roxanne glancing to her phone as she whispers that: “Kay girls, the room where our jewel is store lies just beyond that door. We just need a way to get rid of those guards there to get inside.” “Just gimme a minute there girl, I’ll melt some holes in their chest before you can even blink.” Toxi claims. “Toxi, don’t; were tryin to be sneaky. I’m not sure all three of us can take them on anyway. We need something to distract them with.” “Yeah, you heard her. Calm your slimy tits, bitch. I got this one.” Gigi boasts. “And just what the hell you think you gonna do.” the slime girl wonders. “Watch.” Saying such does the bowlcut blonde pull out from her back pocket an itty bitty cube with wheels attached to the bottom; Gigi rolling it over towards the direction of the guards as she finishes with: “And learn.”

As the little cube rolls out towards the two stationed guards, the panels on its top start to unfold to reveal a little projector; casting out the hologram of a sexy buff man dress in only a speedo. The two soldiers notices the holographic beef cake as he skips along past them, hearing him offering them to: “My beautiful followers. Come with me to the land of tanning oil and surfing pleasure, let your dreams come true in the waves of paradise!” Even with the seemingly random trespasser confusing the ever loving hell out of them, the guards nonetheless give chase; pursuing the holographic man around the corner. With the blondes distracting tool a complete success, Gigi moves in towards the door as she tells her other two teammates that: “Looks like my little test run was a complete success. Come on, girls.” As both Toxi and Roxanne come out of the corner, the slime girl can help but question her about: “What the hell was all that about?” “Oh that? That was one of my trusty little invention I like to call “My little holocube”. I usually use them if I wanna cause distractions or make easy getaway. Pretty neat, huh.” “Kay, but why did it have to be a guy dressed in a speedo.” “Cause they’re my cubes, Roxy. I can put whatever the hell I want on them.”

Once facing the door leading to their little coveted mcguffin, Toxi stands in front of its steel and reaches out as she tells the other to: “Gimme a sec here, girls. Meltin through this door won’t take long.” Just before her gooey mitts could touch the door, Roxanne stands in her way; advising that: “Maybe we shouldn’t melt our way inside. The acid could raise some eyebrows.” “The hell you suggest we do then.” “Just let me pick through the lock instead.” Roxy suggests, pulling out a small bobby pin from her black headband. “Since when the hell do you know how to pick locks?” Gigi wonders. “Since I was in a little gang a couple years back.” “Girl, you didn’t tell us you was a gangster.” Toxi mentions. “It really wasn’t all that big. More of after school ruff club to be honest. The worst we ever did was just steal trinkets from dollar stores.” The snap of the lock soon sounds off, Roxanne pulling her bobby pin from the lock as she tells the girls that: “There we go.”

Opening the steel door wide open, all three girls find on the other side what seemed to be a massive open room covered from floor to walls in countless electrical wires; several control panels and screens laying across the wide chambers. Standing right at the very end of the chamber be the prize they seek; the coveted jewel suspended within a glass case, the countless snaking wires hooked to its base. “Well damn, this lookin easy. Only thing stoppin us is tripping flat on yo ass.” Toxi states as she prepares to slither forth. Just before her slimy bottom could even touch any of the wires, Gigi stops her dead in her tracks; the blonde confirming that: “It does look pretty easy. A bit too easy. Why is there no one here?” “Bitch, the hell you talkin about.” the slime girl asks, pushing away Gigi’s arm. From a pocket in her pink sweat pants, the blonde pulls out a tiny metal ball pinched between her fingers; soon chucking the ball out towards the middle of the chamber. The ball soon explodes in the middle of the air in a puff of gas, the white clouds engulfing the entire chamber in its shroud.

The clouds eventually part to unveil the dozens upon dozens of security lasers that litter the entire chamber, Toxi stepping away from the couple of beam that were inches away from her face. “The fuck!? Though Arti said Charles took care of the security system.” the slime girl reminds them. “I guess he might have missed a few. Nice save, Gigi. I’ll call Artemis and tell her we’re still stuck.” Roxanne states. As her teammate fiddles with her phone, the blonde gazes out towards the other end of the room; discovering a small panel wearing a brand symbol familiar to her. “I don’t think were as stuck as you might think.” Pointing over towards the panel on the other side, Gigi begins to explain with: “This security system is my dads brand. I can just disable it myself.” “Really?” “Yep, I designed it along side dad myself. I know just how it works and how to stop it.” “Kay, cool. How the hell you plannin on getting past all this shit to turn it off.” Toxi aggressively questions. “You gotta show off your stuff. Now its my turn to show mine. Just watch and learn girls what years of dance and gymnastics training has sculpted me into.” Mentioning this, the blonde leap out towards the bramble of security lasers ahead; Roxanne reaching out for her leaving teammate as she exclaims: “Gigi, wait!”

From above, the gymnast flips down the cavalcade of red glowing beams spread through the chamber, landing right on her hands between a lone beam; her head mere inches from its bright red glow. In her handstand, she then lunges herself through a cluster of rays in front of her; landing right on top of one of the computer panels. Noticing the bramble of beams across the top of the panel, Gigi slithers and weaves her slender body through the bright red cluster of lights; contorting and flexing her figure in ways that lend to her to be on par with a professional gymnast more than her own comrades. After squeezing herself through the myriad of lasers, the blonde jumps across more of them littering the chamber; gracefully landing upon the countless wires littering the floor. Though these uneven wires prove to make her a tad off balance, Gigi nonetheless retains her stance and leaps forth through more of the lasers littering the room.

Her gymnastic feats soon take her only several more paces away from the glass case along with the security panel behind it, a straight wall of glowing beams blocking her from progressing any further. Though she finds the wall of rays far too closely knitted to effectively squeeze through, she does notice the wall failing to reach up to the roof; a rather sizable opening perched under the roof of the chamber. Gazing along the cluster of lasers set before her for a way up, she discovers a part of the chamber wall free from any alerting beams; decorated in only loose hanging cable wires. While it may seem risky to some, this proves to be just the path that the young girl needs; a smile beaming on her face as she prepares to leap out towards the wall. Taking a bounding jump over one more bush of beams below her, Gigi reaches out for the wired wall before her; clasping tightly to the cables coating the chambers side. Taking a tight grip of the hanging wires, Gigi pulls herself up the wall as quickly as a well trained Olympian; soon perched right at the very top of the chamber. Stuck along the ceiling, Gigi takes a moment to position herself before leaping out to the hole atop the wall of beams blocking her way forward. Finally, the blonde makes the jump out towards the wall before her; gliding over the countless lasers and beams below as Roxanne watches her in awe. Utilizing the momentum of her kickoff, Gigi successfully weaves herself through the gap between the laser wall and the chamber’s ceiling; soon descending right near where the glass case stands. Once landing on her feet, the blonde strolls aside the case containing their prize and over to the control panel for the security grid; swiftly typing along its keyboard as she claims that: “Aaaaand there we go. Down and out.”

Pressing the last key on the panel, Gigi glances back and watches as the grid of beams dissolve before her eyes; the entire room soon void of any security lasers left. Both of her teammates waltz through the laserless chambers to meet with the blonde at the very end, all the while Gigi gazes to them with a smug grin; Roxanne applauding her efforts while Toxi looks on with bitter scorn. “So, you two enjoy my little performance or did you love it? Pretty spectacular, wasn’t it?” “It was amazing, Gigi. You really-” Roxanne attempts to compliment, though finding herself being rudely interrupted by her slimy comrade. “Bitch, you call that an olympic showcase? I know at least half the peeps above us that can make your sorry ass flips look like grade school gymnastics.” “Toxi! Using other people accomplishments and abilities instead of your own to try and leave scars? And here I thought that your slimy ass couldn’t stoop any lower.” “Bitch, I’ll leave more than a scar when I’m done with you!” Just before either of them could throw down, Roxanne gets right in the middle and swiftly reminds them of their objective with: “Girls! Job! Jewel! Melt! Case!” Seeing their partner point out towards the case in question, Toxi and Gigi give one another spiteful glares before breaking off; the slime girl slithering to the glass case before them.

Finding herself showing within the surface of the glass veil, the gooey girl gets to work on melting through the clear glass; reaching her palm out to her own reflection. Touching the glass with her slimy hands, she begins to spread her corrosive acid across its clear reflective surface; the ooze she leaves behind bubbling and seething as it starts to melt through like melting butter on a piece of glassy bread topped off with delicious face melting acid. Toxi’s slimy deep violet goo makes quick work of the clear vial, dissolving a massive hole leading to the coveted shiny prize contained within. Once cracking the case wide open, Roxanne reaches out for their glimmering target; snatching the gem right off the pole it was perched upon. “Good work, girls. The people up top might just not take us for granted anymore. Maybe even make us go on more missions like this if we’re lucky.” Roxanne informs as they all stroll towards the exit. “I’m betting they’ll let me work out in the premium practice room after all the stuff that I’ve done.” Gigi claims. “All the stuff you did? Bitch, did you not see all the shit my acid melt through today? They outta gimme my own fuckin personal chef for all the shit I did.” Toxi asks. “Girls, you both did amazing on this mission. I’m sure they’ll be proud of both of you.” Roxanne attempts to tell the both of them. “Oh, like you did so much. You’ve just been sitting on your slimy ass while I had to jump and flip through a damn security system.” “Oh yeah, cause I like to see your flat ass flip through a brickwall. We wouldn’t even be here if it weren't for me.” From failing to quell her partners incessant bickering, Roxy’s face swiftly deflate; just being so done with both of them. Even after being with eachother for nearly 4 months now, they still think of ways to piss each other off; they can at least not be as loud. Practically keeping everybody almost every damn night. Wish they’d just stop for once.

Roxanne’s wish is swiftly granted when only a few feet from the exit, all three of them discovering a bright red energy barrier barring their only exit. “What...what is that.” Roxy questions. Approaching the barricade, Gigi reaches out to the force field and taps the surface of the blockade; the energy surface echoing her taps across its face. “This might be a problem.” “A problem my ass! Stand back, motherfucka. I’ll show ya how big a problem this is.” the slime girl boast, pushing the blonde aside as she approaches the door. Just like the glass case before hand, Toxi lathers the face of the force field with her own acidic goo; the slime she leaves behind bubbling before her and her comrade. The slime girls prideful smile swiftly dissolves however when finding her slime simply sliding right off the barrier; leaving not a single melted hole along its surface. “Wow, just look at that. I guess we’re just as fucked as I thought.” Gigi sarcastically claim. “Whatev bitch. So what if I can’t melt through the damn door. They ain’t got them barriers on their walls. Should be pretty easy meltin through the dry wall and wires.” “Oh yeah, you’re right. Should be pretty easy melting through it all as the wires fry you alive.” “I’m afraid Gigi’s right, Toxi. Your acid could conduct the electricity flowing through all the wires dressed through here. And since you can’t melt through anything without touching it first, It probably wouldn’t be hard to imagine hurting yourself.” Roxy adds. After an irritated growl escapes from between the slime girls gooey lips, Toxi points out towards her two comrades as she accuses Roxanne that: “This shit ain’t fair! You always taking her side, Roxy. You never back up what I think.” “That’s cause she knows which of them is the smarter out of us.” “The fuck is that supposed to mean.” “It means you aren’t the one whose got all A’s on their report card.” “Guess it also means you ain’t got one hell of a bodacious bod like mine.” “The hell did you say about my body, bitch?” Witnessing her two partners stirred into a furious arguing fit once again, Roxanne can’t help but let out an exhausted sigh; wondering how in the hell can she get them to stop doing this shit.

In the midst of her emotional exhaustion, Roxanne’s eyes trail up to the roof of the chamber; fixated on a hole in the middle beginning to open up. “Uh, girls.” “Least I don’t gotta wear shitty contacts to see three feet in front of me.” Toxi mocks. “Is that way you have to keep yourself locked in a tube to keep yourself from looking like literal shit?” Gigi barks back. “Girls.” Roxanne utters. Taking a glance back towards the ceiling, Roxy discovers the hole above them to have opened wide; gazing back towards the two as she once again exclaims in dismay: “Girls!” Alas, the panic in her voice fails to reach her two comrades; neither of them batting an eye to her as Toxi continues with: “Oh, like you lookin any better right now. Bitch, you gotta whole lotta work to do if you wanna make that bowl of yours work cut work.” “Same for you with all those nasty ass boils. Betting not even a dash of makeup could cover up all those.” As her two partners argue among themselves, Roxanne looks up to the ceiling once more; witnessing a massive block of metal drop down from the hole. The oversized block crashes down right in the middle of the chamber, the quaking impact finally breaking both Toxi and Gigi out from their bickering as they glance over in its direction. As all three girls stare out to the heavyweight piece of metal, they watch as its metallic surface begins to unfold before their very eyes; a pair of arms emerging from its sides and grasps the countless wires below it. “Roxy, the fuck you didn’t warn us about this?” Toxi questions. “Yeah, Rox. Could’ve used the heads up.” Gigi adds, both of their responses drawing out yet more frustration from their red haired partner. As the transforming block of metal lifts itself from the floor via its morphing legs, it uproots countless electrical wires from throughout the entire chamber; dressing itself in the loose broken wiring as it breaks out from its cube like shell. Once the body finally takes its shape, the boar like head pops out from the middle of its chest; its glowing indigo eyes glaring out towards the three intruders.

Once finishing its grand transformation, the massive metallic automaton lumbers over towards the trio; the girls backing away to the approaching robot as Gigi states that: “Oh...They must’ve shelled out for my dads deluxe security package. Security droid and all.” “Tell me you text the others.” Toxi questions, her eyes shifting over to their red haired partner. “They’re on their way now. We just have to buy them enough time until they get here.” Roxanne informs.

Their robotic adversary nearing, the girls witness the metallic giant flings its wiring out towards them like a makeshift whip; their electrical ends sending out a constant flow of sparks as they fly. From dodging the oncoming lightning whip, all three of the girls splitting off as they sprint away from the towering automaton. Once gaining enough distance from their lumbering foe, Roxanne aims her site out towards the blonde flipping away from the giant; Roxy asking if: “So if your dad built these things, does that mean you know how to shut them down?” “I should. If we could melt through its metal shell, I’d just have to mess with the circuitry to break it down.” Whilst slithering away from the pursuing android, the slime girl is all too eager to rudely remind Gigi that: “Bitch, you forget what you said? Touching just one of those wires might reduce my sexy ass to a fine chard sludge.” “You think I don’t remember that? Like I said before, leave that to me.” the blonde retells, a determined smile stretching across her face. From her determined grin, the bowlcut blonde pulls out from her jacket a pair of brightly colored pom poms; shaking the two of them in the palms of her hands. “Girl, you lost your fuckin mind or what!? This ain’t the time for one of yo shitty cheering practices!”

Partially ignoring her slimy comrades less then encouraging input, Gigi takes a moment to breath before preparing to start; soon jumping around while flailing her pom poms around as she cheers with: “Hey hey, you you! Automaton! Fuck you! Dressing in wires is so last year! You outta be running in tears!” The cheerleaders enthusiastic taunts prove effective enough to draw her robotic foe’s attention; the metal giant halting in its tracks and glaring over towards the mocking blonde as she continues with: “You overblown fax machine! Bet you can’t touch this teen! Come get me! Come, come, come get me!” The mocking cheers cause the massive android to charge out in her direction, drawing her metallic foe away from her friends as she witnesses the automaton ready to strike with its loose wire whips. Just as the iron behemoth casts its electrical wires out to the cheering girl, Gigi springs up high into the air; flipping across the slither of loose wiring and landing right atop a clean spot of the giants arm. Hopping from the top of its metal limb, Gigi glides right over the metallic automaton’s boar like head; gliding over its sharp mettalic teeth. The blonde cheerleader soon comes to face the giant androids wire coated backside, continuing her cheer as she claps her red and white pom poms together with: “Now it’s time to end this cheer with a blast! A-A-A blast!” Between the palms of her hands, the paper making up her pom poms suddenly burst apart; revealing under their glittering paper a sizable explosive. The cheerleader waits not another moment to chuck her bomb towards her iron adversary’s backside, the explosive releasing its deadly payload upon impact. Gigi’s little bomb shows to be more than powerful enough to knock the security android right off its feet; the automaton falling to the wire littered floor on its stomach.

Once landing back onto the floor, the bowlcut blonde looks towards her two teammates; gloating on how: “And that is how a genius downs a giant. Hidden expanding explosives mark 2!” Just as they hear Gigi say such, both Toxi and Roxanne witness the iron colossus quickly begin arise from the floor; seemingly unfazed by the cheerleaders surprise explosive. Upon seeing this, the slime turn glances back to her blonde partner; looking to her smug ass face as she wonders aloud to her: “The hell all the good that did!? You didn’t even put a dent in it! You just tryin to show off again?” “Toxi, it’s back.” Roxanne points out. Gazing out to the rising giants backside, they find the wires that once coated the automaton’s back to be rendered to burnt chards; the pieces fluttering down to the floor as the colossus stands back on its feet. “Hey, slime tits. Time to get your gooey ass a movin.” Gigi order. “Bitch, you don’t tell me what to do.” the slime girl states as she moves in towards the approaching security droid.

Slithering out to the nearing giant, Toxi watches as the massive robot prepares to lash its wired whips towards her; the slime girl refusing to move as the wires near. In one clean swipe, Toxi is slashed into meager puddles by the cast wire whip; parts of herself spreading across the semi wire littered floor. Even with their comrades presumed demise and the security droids approach, both Gigi and Roxanne remain completely confident as the hulking metal giant nears. From around the chambers flooring, the puddles and drops of Toxi’s remains begin to slither their way around the countless wires and towards the giant, halting underneath the metal monsters feet. As soon as the metallic colossus steps onto Toxi’s own slimy remains, the automaton fumbles right back to the ground; falling flat on its stomach once again. The giant fallen forward, the bits and pieces of the slime girl climb across its small bits of wireless metal; reforming into her old slimy self right atop the robots backside. Having pulled herself back together, the Toxi acts fast and smears her slimy acid across the iron giants backside; her gooey substance quickly beginning to melt through its metal shell and exposing the circuitry within. Before she could reach for the circuits however, the giant android beneath her begins to roll back on its feet once more; Toxi left to slip right off its backside.

After her partner splatters along the floor, Gigi leaps above her as she thanks the slime girl with: “Thanks for the assist. Have fun, sitting in a puddle of your own filth.” The bowlcut blonde races out towards the lumbering metal monster, watching as the droid prepares to cast its wire whip out to the approaching cheerleader. Once leaping over the massive androids lightning whip, Gigi slides right between the giants metal legs and faces its exposed backside; seeing the melted hole that her slimy partner had made just for her. Gigi then spring up to towards the automatons back, climbing her way up via the wires leading to the hole; the blonde careful not to grab hold of any sparking ends. Finally, the blonde reaches up to the security droids open hole; taking a peek inside as she claims to herself that: “Right. Now just to rewire the insides and direct the output to the mainframe to overload it and this little droid here should-” Its while gazing at the insides of the giant that shock and bewilderment spread across the blondes face; Roxanne noticing her agile teammate simply staring at the inside and wondering: “Gigi, what’s the hold up? Is there something wrong?” “Th-the circuitry. It’s...it’s completely different…They modified this model! I can’t believe it! They can’t do this. It’s a violation of the deluxe packs user agreements. These cheap, lab coated rats! They’ll-” Before the cheerleader could rant on any further, the android begins to shake itself in an effort to toss the blonde off its back. Despite her desperate attempts to hold on, Gigi eventually goes flying off the modded androids backside; the robot itself lashing its electrical whips upon the helpless cheerleader. The bowlcut blonde can’t help but take in the full brunt of the sting, the lightning like strike sending her careening across the chamber. Roxanne watches in horror as her comrade is sent slamming straight into a wall, rushing to her aid as she tumbles to the wire littered floor; crying out: “Gigi!” As Roxanne urgently dashes towards the injured cheerleader, the giant pulls back its lightning whip in an effort to intercept her; failing to catch Toxi slipping underneath its metal foot. Stepping onto the slime girls entire body causes the giant to take another spill onto the wired floor; the tip of its whip missing the rushing Roxanne entirely.

Finally coming to her downed teammate, Roxy kneels before the lying Gigi to inspect her; discovering several bruises and burns across her body. “Gigi? Gigi? Come on, please! Are you still with us? Say something?” Upon pleading such, Roxanne hears uttered from her partners mouth a painful groan; the sign of life making her let out a relieved breath: “Oh thank goodness. Just gimme a second here, Gigi. I’ll have you fixed up in no time.” Declaring this, Roxanne gently places the palms of her hands over the bruises and burns plaguing the young cheerleader; a bright lavender light beginning to light up underneath her hands. Its in that moment does Roxy lift her hands off her friend, unveiling a small lavender flame awaiting beneath her palms. Rather then burning the blonde even further, Roxanne’s light purple fires instead mend her injured friends bruises; Gigi’s painful expression coming to a calm as her wounds disappear within her friends blaze. Her bright lavender fires blaze across her comrades body, consuming more and more of Gigi’s bleeding bruises and burns the further it goes; extinguishing itself when the blonde body is left completely healed. Once the last of the flames go out, Gigi rises from the wired covered floor simple like getting herself out of bed after a long and well deserved nap; stretching her arms out as she sits up beside Roxanne. The blonde looks to where her painful bruises once were, finding not a scratch left on her as she tells her gratitude to the medic who tended to her with: “Thanks for the heals, Roxy. I’d probably be dead if you hadn’t had stuck with us.” “Don’t thank me just yet.” her medic disappointingly suggests, turning back towards the scene of the action.

Gazing back towards the iron giant, the two witness their slimy comrade slithering around the massive android; the androids whip slinging her back towards her team. Pulling herself back together beside her fully healed partner, Toxi shakes off her sudden blow; glancing over to the blonde as she wonders: “Glad to see yo sorry ass back from the dead. So how you plannin on hackin this metal dick?” “I...I don’t know.” “Yeah, real fucking funny. Seriously, what’s the plan?” “Bitch, I said I don’t know! I can’t stay on the robots back long enough to understand the newly place circuitry.” Before any of them could plan further on what their next move might be, all three of the girls witness the metal giant lumbering over towards them; bracing for the worst as the iron colossus pulls its whip back.

Right before the security android could lash its wires out to the three, a resounding boom echoes throughout the entire chamber; everyone gazing out to the side to find a part of the chamber wall having burst open. Shooting out from the resulting cloud of dry wall dust, a massive green beam fires out towards the iron giant; the ray proving more than enough to send the security droid crashing straight towards other side in one clean shot. Before the steel behemoth could stand back on its two iron feet, something slams down upon its stomach and keeps it glued to the floor; its indigo eyes meeting the purple mercs devious grin. Keeping the giant grounded to the wire littered floor, Roy starts pummeling the automaton further into the ground; each pounding strike quaking the entire chamber from bottom to top. “Roy?” Roxanne utters, shocked to find her boy before her beating down the colossus that troubled them so. Turning her eyes back towards the dispersing clouds of dust, all three of the girls find standing behind its shroud to find both of their other comrades coming out from the freshly busted hole in the wall; a large technologically enchanted bazooka perched over Artemis’ shoulders. “I still don’t get how exactly you managed to carry that monstrosity of a gun with us. You’re not exactly sporting a lot of pockets on you, much less a holster to luge that beast around in.” Charles points out as he walks alongside the sniper. “No time for questions, stay sharp and look alive.” she simply counters with.

Once the two of them come to the rest of their team, Artemis kneels down and offers them her hand; asking them all if: “You girls okay?” “Uh...yeah, obviously. We were just about to hand this tin can motherfucka’s shiny metal ass on a silver plate til you guys busted in. Knocked this metal bitch flat on its face at least a good couple times.” Toxi brags. “All thanks to my ingenuity and planning of course.” Gigi smugly adds. “If that’s the case, then it shouldn’t be much of a problem for Roxanne’s purple demon she oddly calls her boyfriend to finish off.” Charles states. “Charles! Don’t just go calling him names like that. He’s not that bad of a guy when you-” Roxy attempts to scold her blue leader for; though hearing Roy’s maniacal laughter echo in their ears proves to be detrimental to her point.

Gazing back towards the scene of the action, all of them watch as the violet merc continues to beat the bot in; Roy eventually smacked aside by the hard steel of the automatons backhand. Despite being smacked back by the full brunt of the iron behemoth’s metal strike, this fails to keep the merc back for long; Roy regaining his aerial balance as his black wings sprout from his back. His metallic foe standing back on its steel legs, the merc takes the moment to give the giant a less then friendly middle finger; taunting on how: “Surprise motherfucka! Your rustic metal asshole ain’t got nothing on my glorious cheeks. I got enough spunk in me to take way more than you can dish out with your tiny wire string dick!” Hearing their purple guest mock the security droid in such a lewd manner, Roxanne’s entire team glances in her direction; all wearing face ranging from worry, disbelief, and “What the fuck were you thinking when hooking up with this maniac?” kind of looks. Roxy can do little but give her crew a semi insincere smile, letting out a nervous giggle as she can only shrug.

From the black angels taunting mockery, the metallic monster thrust his free hand down the rest of the wires beneath his feet; pilling out more of the electrical wiring littering the floor. Once uprooting whatever wires are left lying on the floor, the robotic behemoth whips both the mess of wire strings in his hands and swings them out towards the purple bastard himself. Roy shows to be more than capable of evading the bots makeshift whips, dancing around the lightning like wires in a 360 pirouette; soon countering the giants swing with his own power in the form of pitch black beam. The giant automaton takes in the full force of the merc’s deadly ray; Roy’s beam piercing straight through the security droids side; its pieces flying across the chamber. Even after taking in such a lethal shot to the side of its torso, the iron colossus still refuses to fail back on the floor; standing against the odds as if nothing happened. “Ya gotta be fuckin with me here! The hell did yo daddy make this asshole out of to take a hit like that.” Toxi questions, everybody glaring eyes locked to the blonde cheerleader. Gigi can’t help but let out a nervous chuckle, explaining to everyone that: “Only the best for his inventions. The motto of his company.” “Lets see it stand up to another shot of this.” Artemis mentions as she aims the tip of her plasma bazooka out towards the standing giant. Firing her massive weapon off from the wayside, the neon green markswoman lands another clean hit to the hulking androids shoulder; the blast strong enough to knock the behemoth straight into the wall.

After lending her own support in handing the iron giant a piece of its own rustic asshole, Artemis glances over to the other girls and questions if: “Did you all manage to get the jewel.” When asked about such, Roxanne pulls out the little coveted prize in question; presenting the shining jewel as she declares that its: “Right here. All in its glimmering glory.” “Great work, you three.” After complimenting the Roxanne and her friends for the accomplishment, the neon green sniper shifts her gaze over to their airborn purple guest; demanding that: “We have what we need here. We need to make our escape ASAP.” “Right behind y’all.” Roy acknowledges; gliding in their direction as the rest begin to take their leave through the hole in the wall. Before heading out with the rest of her team, Roxanne stops inches from the way out; taking a look back to her boy as he glides in her direction.

Just when Roy was about to reach for his purple flamin girl, the merc feels something wrap around his body; a whole cluster of loose shocking wires entangling around his entire body and jerking him back. Having caught the black angel in its electrical whips, the mechanical colossus wastes no time in beating the merc across the entire room, shocking and slamming the black angel constantly into the concrete floor. In the middle of his battering punishment, Roy’s purple eyes venture out towards the hole in the wall; discovering his girl watching the scene in horror. Roxanne worry is all the merc needs for motivation; stopping himself from crashing onto the wireless concrete floor and landing back on his feet. Though the android attempts to pull the merc back, its purple captive proves to have far more strength under his than its mechanical servos can fight against; Roy refusing to budge where he stands. Its in this stand off does the black angel burst free from the wires that bind his entire body; the resulting shock wave causing the automaton to stumble back. Just when the security droid was ready to fall, something prevents it from crashing down; the boar head gazing down to witness the purple merc taking a tight grip on its makeshift whips. Even when having felt the millions and millions of volt coursing through his entire body, Roy refuses to let go the electrical wires that once bound him; instead pushing the power current back with his own power. Roy’s own pitch black power creeps up the wires dressing the androids arm, soon consuming the rest of the wires alongside the massive metal giant itself; causing the automaton to explode in a mess of black smoke. Roxanne backs away from the drifting clouds of black, soon finding her own purple boy emerging out from the clouds and flying in her direction; Roy sweeping Roxy off her feet as he jets out of the smokey chamber.

Racing through the white halls ahead of the underground basement, the rest of the crew sprint across the polished marble with the mcguffin in their mitts; their proud getaway coming to sudden blockade. Standing in the entire teams way be a whole battalion of armed guards and patrol facing them down; their weapons squarely aimed right at the four. “So, how much more ammo do ya got in that cannon of yours?” Charles wonders. “Don’t think it matters. One blast from it could make this whole hall crash on top of us.” “How the hell we getting outta here then.” the slime girl wonders. Right then and there that they here the blonde cheerleader behind them warn that: “Guy, something’s coming up on our tail fast.” “Is it more security?” Artemis questions. “Not unless they’re on fire.” “Heh?” From their teammates bizarre answer, everyone else glances back from where they sprinted from; witnessing a giant ball of purple flames swiftly approaching. Jumping out from the burning comets path, all four of them witness their red headed comrade leaping off of its back; Roxanne greeting them all with: “Hey guys.” “Roxy, but then is that-” Toxi questions. Coated in a dark purple flame, the black winged angel rockets towards the blockade of guards with a smile on his face; the battalion he approaches scattering in attempt to flee from his blazing charge. Alas, there escape from the merc was but a fleeting wish; Roy ramming straight through the squad in a literal purple firestorm. Once the blazing inferno quickly comes to a calm, the girls then rush past the countless downed guards; Roxanne helping Roy off the burnt marble floor as she hears him thank her with: “Thanks for the quick fix there, Fox Rox. You’re fires were pretty sick.” “No problem Roy, happy to help. The way we came in isn’t too far from here. Come on.”

Following the rest of the squad, both Roxanne and Roy make it back to the janitor’s closet they broke in from; Roy stopping right next to the doorway and facing the way he came from. The red head turns back towards her violet boy toy, wondering: “What are you doing? Reinforcements will be here any minute.” “Covering our tracks. You go ahead with the others, I won’t be far behind.” the merc informs, a pitch black power forming above the palm of his hand. As her boyfriend has instructed, the red head races through the hole leading right into the sewer tunnels; leaving Roy to face the oncoming pack of security guard himself. With the power in his hand fully charged, Roy fires out a massive black beam out towards the oncoming mass of guards; the ray consuming the entire mob in its agonizing darkness. The catastrophic blast causes the entire underground facility to furiously rumble, pieces of the hallway collapsing from the resulting quake; a clear queue for the merc to take his leave as he dashes through the janitor doorway.

Back out the dark alley atop the surface; Charles holds their well earned prize in the clasp of his finger; admiring the gems cut as he declares to the rest of the team that: “Ladies. Our mission has been accomplished.” From their blue skinned leader declaring as such, most of the team cheers from their victory; others admiring the shinning jewel in pride. “I still can’t believe it. We pulled off our first big mission, and none of us loss a single limb.” Gigi exclaims. “Still can’t believe yo flat ass didn’t screw us over. Though for sure we’d be dead with your loud ass mouth.” Toxi mocks. Despite this promptly starts up another argument between the two of them, their baby blue leader promptly ignores them both as he approaches his neon green sniper; admitting to her that: “I never thought in my time with you all that I’d be one day proud of everyone. Each of you played your parts well.” “Roy did too. We wouldn’t have pulled off this big assignment if it weren't for him.” Roxanne reminds him. A reluctant groan escaping from his mouth, the lab coated leader swiftly showing his weak gratitude for: “Yeah, fine. Thank you Ray for your excellent services, we’re lucky to have had you on the team. Blah blah blah blah blah.” “Eh, no need to thank me.” “Good, cause I wasn’t.” “Really I should be saying the same for my lavender hot bae here for the fun night out.” the merc states, giving his girl a peck on the cheek. The sudden smooch causes Roxy to let out a nervously faux giggle as she strolls over to the neon green sniper; Artemis knelling to the red heads ear and asking if: “Mind if we have a little talk. Girl to girl.”

Once taking the red head to a little more private side of the dark alleyway, Artemis takes in a deep breath before coming out with: “I hate to be the one to ask this out of the blue, especially with all the luck that we’ve been having, but...how’s your brother’s disability treatment going?” “Oh...It’s-it’s been rather slow as of late. Taking baby steps I guess. Hopefully all the money the Alliance is feeding me can go to helping him deal with it until I improve.” Roxanne hesitantly informs. “Well, if it isn’t enough, I’ll be more then happy to send whatever money I get your way. It’s the least I can do after making my time in the Alliance as comforting and stress free as possible.” “No problem, Arti. I’m more than happy to help you.” “By the way, did you mention any of this to the mercenary yet?” “Roy? Uh, no. I really haven’t figured out a way how to yet. I was hoping to do it naturally.” “Are you sure its a good idea to tell him at all?” “Artemis. I know you’ve read up on all that he’s done through his supposed career; but with the few weeks that I’ve spent with him, he really isn’t as bad as you think.” “I’m just wanting you to watch yourself.” “I know, and I will. Thanks Arti.” Unaware to either of the girls, the purple merc in question stood on the other side of the corner behind them; taking in the entire conversation with a sort of mild unease.

Strolling along the nearly empty city walkway, both Roy and Roxanne walk together hand in hand; the dimly lit streetlights to their side lighting their way. “Ya know, we still got us a lot of night on us to burn away. Could go somewhere else tonight, like a restaurant, arcade, mall, lake, fight club. You got the wheel on where how this night can go.” the merc suggests. “Actually, I already have a place in mind that I wanna stop; though its not really as fun as any of those places. You don’t really have to come with if you don’t want to.” “What, you mean like a hospital.” “Actually, yeah. I was planning to stop their for a little bit to maybe help out.” While walking alongside his red headed girlfriend, Roy loosens his grip on Roxanne’s own hand; eventually letting go of her as he asks her if: “Is it the same hospital where your brother is staying?” “Yeah...How did...Were you overhearing Arti and I talk back there?” “Kind of.” “Oh, I’m sorry for the way she talked about you. I know she can be defensive, but-” “Don’t be. She’s a good friend looking after you like that. That neon green gal’s lucky to have somebody like you with her.” With her boy mentioning such to her, Roxanne can’t help but crack a sincere smile; soon hearing Roy continue with: “Plus, I think I know a guy that can help out just as much with your little bro’s problems. A blue bro of mine with healing powers somewhere close to yours; I figure with his help, we could get your brother back on his feet. I ain’t too sure if he could fix him up completely, or if at all. But hey, can’t hurt to try; right?”

It takes the red head a few good moment to ponder upon her purple merc’s offer; but eventually responds to him with: “It sounds too good to be true...but I don’t think I can take you up on your offer.” “What? Look, I know my bro can be act like an idiot sometimes, but he’s pulled through for us lots of times before. I’m pretty sure that he can fix your-” “That’s not what I meant...I was...hoping to one day heal my brother myself.” Roxanne corrects. “What?...Why? Why would you wait for something like that?” Roy questions. “Its the Alliance. Being with them gives me a good outlet to practice and hone my healing flames; practice that I may one day heal my brother myself. Once I master my powers to do something like that, there may be no one else in this world I can’t heal then. To take care of the needy and sick that dwell in this cruel world, awaiting for somebody to end their pain and suffering; I can become a beacon of hope and life for everyone.” His girlfriends explanation on denying his offer drives Roy to the point of silence, his only fist trembling behind his back as he finally answers her with: “Are you kidding me?...” “Huh?”

“That has to be some of the biggest pile of bullshit I ever heard!” The merc harsh comment shocks and appalls the red head; backing away from the black angel as she questions him: “How...could you say something that?” “You mean to tell me that your using your brother as a milestone for something that you don’t even know might happen, all the while leaving the poor kid to suffer; how could I not say it!” “He’s not suffering, Roy! All the money the Young Blood Alliance gives me help treat and comfort him in his hour of need!” “He wouldn’t even need any of that cash if you stop being so self centered and get him actual help!” “It’s like that! You don’t understand!” “No, you don’t understand! If you actually gave a damn about your brother, then you wouldn’t have him wait around for who know’s how fuckin long until you muster up the skill to actually do it; all just so for you hope of what you could do in the future rather than the reality of what you can do now. That’s not dreaming, that’s just being selfish.” Taking in the merc’s harsh words, Roxanne stands before him shocked and silent; attempting to hold back the flow of tears welling in her eyes. Roy lets out a small sigh as he pulls out his phone, passing by the shock struck red head as he tells her to: “Now, come on. My bro can meet with us at the hospital.” “No...” Roxanne utter. Stopping dead in his tracks, the purple merc turns back towards the red head behind him and simply states: “Why now?” “It’s over Roy...It’s all over...We’re through.” Hearing the girl uttering this with his own ears, the merc’s phone slips out from his grip and onto the cold concrete walkway; staring at Roxanne’s back as he himself utters: “What?” “...Goodbye.” Its with her final word that the red head runs from the merc, disappearing into the darkness and leaving Roy under the light of the streetlamp; Roy crumbling to his knees as his eyes drift down to his own shadow.

In the midst of his heartbroken sorrows, the merc hears a familiar voice ring inside his head; the goddess within asking if: “Are you going to be okay?” “I…...I don’t know anymore.” “Why did you say all that to her?” “I was just hoping to talk some sense into her. Get her to see and do the things that are in the now rather than what may be in the future.” “...What do you plan to do now?” To Hera’s worrying question, the merc can’t bring himself to answer her at the moment; simply rising from the concrete walkway and flying up into the night sky.

Perched atop the edge of a buildings, Roy gazes down to the few people left strolling along the streets; staring down to a couple holding one another in their arms. “Hera...” “Yes...” “Is it wrong that I still love her?” “...No.” “But with everything that’s happened...It still hurts. She just cut me out so fast, all while I was offering to help her. I know I was being aggressive. But I did it to try and get through to her...” “Did you think it would’ve been better simply to not say anything?” “How could I not say anything to something like that? Anything to change her mind...But all I did was just ruin everything.” Ruminating in silence, the merc’s gaze drifts up towards the moon perched high in the sky; staring upon the glowing half crescent as a heavy breath escapes him. “Sometimes, I wonder if I even deserved to be loved.” “Oh Roy, of course you do.” “Then why am I so bad at keeping it?”

With his last question baiting out no answers from the goddess, the merc stands from the edge of the building as he prepares to take off into the night sky; his black wings unfolding from his back. Just as he launches right off the rooftop, an unexpected green beam blasts into the side of his head; the surprising headshot causing the merc to plummet to the streets below. The impact of Roy’s crashing descent could be heard ringing across the entire block; accompanying the merc cursing: “Fuck!”

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

The final episode before the season finale. I'll be honest, I had the scenario at the end in the back of my mind for a very very long while now; the thought of Roy severing a sort of romantic connection with his own stubborn morality and beliefs was one that I was wanting to experiment with for a long time. I especially wanted to make this argument as two sided as I possibly could, with readers being able to see both sides of their argument without demonizing either; plus for both parties to have their own mistakes in the relationship beforehand. I really hope that I pulled it off well...Just in time for Valentines day too.

Gigi, Toxi, Artemis, Charles, and Roxanne all belong to: @princesscallyie

#lillaxtrigger #Young Hope

[wendyimmiller]

Garden regionally. Get inspired globally.

Guest Rant by Marianne Willburn  

Somewhere near the bottom of every writer’s artistic license, a clever wordsmith will find the following recommendation:

Monty Don

“Comically exaggerating the position of one’s opponent is encouraged in the defense of one’s argument.”[i]

Thus, after verbally sparring with Scott Beuerlein over the curiously inflammatory subject of whether to openly read British garden writers, or to do so under the covers by flashlight – all the while pledging fidelity to the American values of Weed & Feed; a tortured Scott is wrestling with the inadequacies of a Midwestern accent late into a Cincinnati evening, and I am apparently one step away from a sexting relationship with Monty Don.

Yet, beyond the slings and the arrows and the thoroughly base attempt to play cards as sneaky as cancer and a dead, beloved dog (I see you one dog and raise you a dad, Scott), the rebuttal beautifully illustrates the constant niggling suspicion American gardeners have that the British are looking down their noses at us, feeding us advice to help us fail, sniggering with intent, and securing all the fat Timber contracts in order to render our garden gurus speechless upon their own soil.[ii]

Rubbish.

Or if you prefer, horseshit.

And when social media gets involved, the comments reveal our innate prejudices and (I believe) underlying insecurities as Americans.

For the record:

I am not a self-righteous Brit who ignores and disparages American garden writers because I am so enchanted with the idea of tea at four and ha-has across the south lawn that I can’t remember my USDA zone. I AM an American garden writer with dual citizenship who has lived most of her life in America, reads authors on both sides of the Atlantic and writes for American publications on American soil. I married a Marine. And not as a war bride.

And neither is Scott a Trumpian angry ethnocentrist (as one commenter lamented) because he has a beef with the relevance of British garden writing to American gardeners. He was clearly just having a bad day.

Perhaps it was a work-related trauma. Spring is a cold and busy season at the Cincinnati Zoo. The last thing the Manager of Botanical Garden Outreach needs to have shoved down his throat is a picture of Fergus Garrett standing under a fruiting Musa basjoo.

Perhaps someone left a copy of George Plumptre’s The English Country House Garden in the men’s toilets. We can only speculate.

Nevertheless, something primal snapped in the man. I get it. But to throw out the cherubic baby with the bath water? That’s when I objected.

It’s just so damned predictable.

Though a strong stance, Scott took a safe one. An American audience is not going to object to giving the Brits a tongue-lashing for what we immediately assume to be their propensity towards snobbery, condescension and arrogance. And, any written defense of such a reprehensible population will be met with equal certainty that the author [obviously bewitched] eats her eggs soft-boiled.

An autumn tapestry at the newly opened Delaware Botanic Gardens, designed by Dutch Wave guru Piet Oudouf, and providing 25 acres of forage, habitat and outstanding beauty for wildlife & visitors.

Except.

Americans are not innocent in this game. Far from it. From my American pine cradle, I’ve grown up in both worlds. My mother is a California rancher’s daughter, my father, a public-schooled Brit. After a lifetime of lively conversations around their dining room table with friends from far and wide, I can attest to the fact that the two cultures take great delight in a strong sense of superiority over one other. I’ve seen my share of sparring. Subtle and not so.

All these decades after the American Revolution, there is still the spirit of rebellion in your average American heart and we’re deeply (and rightly) proud of it. We object to being told what to do – whether it’s what to do for a living, what to wear to a funeral, or what to plant in our gardens. We expect the luxury of space, and claim it when we can – from 4200 square foot homes for two people to insisting on a wide berth when standing at an ATM.

We’re pioneers, explorers and dreamers. But we’re also pragmatists. A great many of us feel strongly that we don’t need a two thousand year-old language to refer to a plant our daddies always called Ramps. And if we want to spell it with a capital R, that’s our business. We sure as hell don’t need people with a perfect climate telling us how to grow it.

Even though they probably weren’t.

In their less generous moments, the Brits look upon us as spoilt children who think the world revolves around us. (Scott, your original essay didn’t help with this.) They write for their own as surely as we write for ours; and if it’s American money that’s buying a gardening book, they credit that money with the good sense to recognize that it doesn’t live in Cornwall – and to adapt accordingly.

They’ve got their own issues and insecurities certainly.  In a country with an average population density of 720 people per square mile (the USA is 87)[iii], space is a luxury many never dream of attaining, no matter how quickly they get on the property ladder or how upwardly mobile their lifestyle.

This means that they can be a little prickly about American ideas of personal space. But they are an exceptionally self-reliant people – particularly those who live rurally – making do with very little to create lives that most Americans would find inconvenient.

Sparked by the blight that is decimating boxwood, RHS Wisley has created a knot garden composed of alternate shrubs to inspire depressed gardeners. I can’t grow several of these species, but it doesn’t stop me taking what I can from this fantastic, educational display. (Though not perhaps cuttings.)

When it comes to gardening, they know what they’ve got: the Gulf Stream and hundreds of years of exploiting it to create some of the best gardens in the world; and a culture that gardens more than it doesn’t. But they also know what they don’t have. Besides the obvious (colonies in the Americas & room to swing a cat), they don’t have the guarantee of a decent summer every year.

So, here we are. They, envious of our wide open spaces and [mostly] abundant sunshine. Us, fascinated by their walled kitchen gardens and high streets clothed in annuals. We may admit to a little jealousy – joke about it perhaps – right up until the moment we start feeling the slightest bit insecure.

Then, Americans tend to lash out in righteous fury….

“I don’t need to know the [insert expletive] “proper” [voice dripping with sarcasm] name for this [long pause] blue poppy, to grow it!”

…while the Brits rely on cold condescension.

“But you’re not growing it particularly well, are you?” 

And the resentments build.

Now, no one with an ounce (or a gram) of sense thinks that we shouldn’t garden regionally in America, or for that matter, anywhere else in this world. That we shouldn’t find garden writers who live where we live and garden where we garden in order to help us to gain knowledge and experience relevant to our climate.

Influences from all over the world come together in the wildly beautiful gravel garden at Chanticleer Garden, PA.

But to dream, and perhaps more importantly, to innovate, we should inspire ourselves globally: Paradise gardens of Andalusia, potagers in Normandy, xeriscapes in San Diego, shambas in East Africa. People working with their specific environments to create life-giving works of art that other gardeners can observe, absorb and adapt to their own climates and their own environments. Thus:

Half of Europe is embracing naturalistic pollinator and wildlife-friendly designs inspired in part by the prairies and open spaces of the Americas, and led by top designers. Hell, even Hyde Park is letting the grass grow. Do they loathe their own traditions?

A nearby grower friend is showcasing & selling Mediterranean look-alike plants (in a cruel and chilly Mid-Atlantic 6b) as Cali-faux-nian. The customers love it. Did she throw out her summer stock of petunias & calibrachoa?

Monty Don is inspiring his slavering audience to create restful Moorish gardens within the limitations of urban garden flats and boring, but respectable suburban neighborhoods. Does he thus despise boring, but respectable suburban neighborhoods? Well, probably, but we can all agree upon that.

Therefore, I plead with gardeners, garden educators, and Scott on a chilly spring day, who wish to make a full retreat into the safe space of regional gardening advice delivered by regional gardening experts:

Garden regionally. Inspire yourself globally.

Cutting ourselves off from other influences is short-sighted, possibly pig-headed, and will not lead to innovative, exciting design movements of the future. And for those now racing to the captcha to virtuously proclaim how few damns they give for “exciting design movements of the future” (I’m talking to you mom): it’s the Dutch Wave/New Perennial Movement you can thank for inspiring a new generation of gardeners – and non-gardeners – to create pollinator-friendly landscapes in an increasingly urbanized world.

Tom Stuart-Smith’s innovative design within the walled garden at Broughton Grange encourages gardeners all over the world to move beyond traditional borders and contrast formal architectural elements on a relaxed, perennial canvas.

This isn’t a zero sum game. The rest of the world does some things better than we do, and vice versa. Know what you know about where you garden, and know it well. Take time to know more.  Look for alternative opinions. Read footnotes. Whether British or American, pens deftly wielded as daggers can be a great deal more effective than those used to spoon-feed.

Doing all this doesn’t make you a snob – it makes you smart. And it just might put you at the top of your regional game.

Marianne Willburn is an American garden columnist and author of the book Big Dreams, Small Garden. Read more at www.smalltowngardener.com

Photo credit for Monty Don. All other photos by the author.

[i]Neither the license nor the sentence actually exist, although they should.

[ii] C’mon Timber, seriously. What if Bloomsbury snaps us up?

[iii] Countries By Density Population. (2019-10-01). Retrieved 2019-10-09, from http://worldpopulationreview.com/countries/countries-by-density/

Garden regionally. Get inspired globally. originally appeared on GardenRant on October 16, 2019.

from Gardening https://www.gardenrant.com/2019/10/garden-regionally-get-inspired-globally.html via http://www.rssmix.com/

[turfandlawncare]

Garden regionally. Get inspired globally.

Guest Rant by Marianne Willburn  

Somewhere near the bottom of every writer’s artistic license, a clever wordsmith will find the following recommendation:

Monty Don

“Comically exaggerating the position of one’s opponent is encouraged in the defense of one’s argument.”[i]

Thus, after verbally sparring with Scott Beuerlein over the curiously inflammatory subject of whether to openly read British garden writers, or to do so under the covers by flashlight – all the while pledging fidelity to the American values of Weed & Feed; a tortured Scott is wrestling with the inadequacies of a Midwestern accent late into a Cincinnati evening, and I am apparently one step away from a sexting relationship with Monty Don.

Yet, beyond the slings and the arrows and the thoroughly base attempt to play cards as sneaky as cancer and a dead, beloved dog (I see you one dog and raise you a dad, Scott), the rebuttal beautifully illustrates the constant niggling suspicion American gardeners have that the British are looking down their noses at us, feeding us advice to help us fail, sniggering with intent, and securing all the fat Timber contracts in order to render our garden gurus speechless upon their own soil.[ii]

Rubbish.

Or if you prefer, horseshit.

And when social media gets involved, the comments reveal our innate prejudices and (I believe) underlying insecurities as Americans.

For the record:

I am not a self-righteous Brit who ignores and disparages American garden writers because I am so enchanted with the idea of tea at four and ha-has across the south lawn that I can’t remember my USDA zone. I AM an American garden writer with dual citizenship who has lived most of her life in America, reads authors on both sides of the Atlantic and writes for American publications on American soil. I married a Marine. And not as a war bride.

And neither is Scott a Trumpian angry ethnocentrist (as one commenter lamented) because he has a beef with the relevance of British garden writing to American gardeners. He was clearly just having a bad day.

Perhaps it was a work-related trauma. Spring is a cold and busy season at the Cincinnati Zoo. The last thing the Manager of Botanical Garden Outreach needs to have shoved down his throat is a picture of Fergus Garrett standing under a fruiting Musa basjoo.

Perhaps someone left a copy of George Plumptre’s The English Country House Garden in the men’s toilets. We can only speculate.

Nevertheless, something primal snapped in the man. I get it. But to throw out the cherubic baby with the bath water? That’s when I objected.

It’s just so damned predictable.

Though a strong stance, Scott took a safe one. An American audience is not going to object to giving the Brits a tongue-lashing for what we immediately assume to be their propensity towards snobbery, condescension and arrogance. And, any written defense of such a reprehensible population will be met with equal certainty that the author [obviously bewitched] eats her eggs soft-boiled.

An autumn tapestry at the newly opened Delaware Botanic Gardens, designed by Dutch Wave guru Piet Oudouf, and providing 25 acres of forage, habitat and outstanding beauty for wildlife & visitors.

Except.

Americans are not innocent in this game. Far from it. From my American pine cradle, I’ve grown up in both worlds. My mother is a California rancher’s daughter, my father, a public-schooled Brit. After a lifetime of lively conversations around their dining room table with friends from far and wide, I can attest to the fact that the two cultures take great delight in a strong sense of superiority over one other. I’ve seen my share of sparring. Subtle and not so.

All these decades after the American Revolution, there is still the spirit of rebellion in your average American heart and we’re deeply (and rightly) proud of it. We object to being told what to do – whether it’s what to do for a living, what to wear to a funeral, or what to plant in our gardens. We expect the luxury of space, and claim it when we can – from 4200 square foot homes for two people to insisting on a wide berth when standing at an ATM.

We’re pioneers, explorers and dreamers. But we’re also pragmatists. A great many of us feel strongly that we don’t need a two thousand year-old language to refer to a plant our daddies always called Ramps. And if we want to spell it with a capital R, that’s our business. We sure as hell don’t need people with a perfect climate telling us how to grow it.

Even though they probably weren’t.

In their less generous moments, the Brits look upon us as spoilt children who think the world revolves around us. (Scott, your original essay didn’t help with this.) They write for their own as surely as we write for ours; and if it’s American money that’s buying a gardening book, they credit that money with the good sense to recognize that it doesn’t live in Cornwall – and to adapt accordingly.

They’ve got their own issues and insecurities certainly.  In a country with an average population density of 720 people per square mile (the USA is 87)[iii], space is a luxury many never dream of attaining, no matter how quickly they get on the property ladder or how upwardly mobile their lifestyle.

This means that they can be a little prickly about American ideas of personal space. But they are an exceptionally self-reliant people – particularly those who live rurally – making do with very little to create lives that most Americans would find inconvenient.

Sparked by the blight that is decimating boxwood, RHS Wisley has created a knot garden composed of alternate shrubs to inspire depressed gardeners. I can’t grow several of these species, but it doesn’t stop me taking what I can from this fantastic, educational display. (Though not perhaps cuttings.)

When it comes to gardening, they know what they’ve got: the Gulf Stream and hundreds of years of exploiting it to create some of the best gardens in the world; and a culture that gardens more than it doesn’t. But they also know what they don’t have. Besides the obvious (colonies in the Americas & room to swing a cat), they don’t have the guarantee of a decent summer every year.

So, here we are. They, envious of our wide open spaces and [mostly] abundant sunshine. Us, fascinated by their walled kitchen gardens and high streets clothed in annuals. We may admit to a little jealousy – joke about it perhaps – right up until the moment we start feeling the slightest bit insecure.

Then, Americans tend to lash out in righteous fury….

“I don’t need to know the [insert expletive] “proper” [voice dripping with sarcasm] name for this [long pause] blue poppy, to grow it!”

…while the Brits rely on cold condescension.

“But you’re not growing it particularly well, are you?” 

And the resentments build.

Now, no one with an ounce (or a gram) of sense thinks that we shouldn’t garden regionally in America, or for that matter, anywhere else in this world. That we shouldn’t find garden writers who live where we live and garden where we garden in order to help us to gain knowledge and experience relevant to our climate.

Influences from all over the world come together in the wildly beautiful gravel garden at Chanticleer Garden, PA.

But to dream, and perhaps more importantly, to innovate, we should inspire ourselves globally: Paradise gardens of Andalusia, potagers in Normandy, xeriscapes in San Diego, shambas in East Africa. People working with their specific environments to create life-giving works of art that other gardeners can observe, absorb and adapt to their own climates and their own environments. Thus:

Half of Europe is embracing naturalistic pollinator and wildlife-friendly designs inspired in part by the prairies and open spaces of the Americas, and led by top designers. Hell, even Hyde Park is letting the grass grow. Do they loathe their own traditions?

A nearby grower friend is showcasing & selling Mediterranean look-alike plants (in a cruel and chilly Mid-Atlantic 6b) as Cali-faux-nian. The customers love it. Did she throw out her summer stock of petunias & calibrachoa?

Monty Don is inspiring his slavering audience to create restful Moorish gardens within the limitations of urban garden flats and boring, but respectable suburban neighborhoods. Does he thus despise boring, but respectable suburban neighborhoods? Well, probably, but we can all agree upon that.

Therefore, I plead with gardeners, garden educators, and Scott on a chilly spring day, who wish to make a full retreat into the safe space of regional gardening advice delivered by regional gardening experts:

Garden regionally. Inspire yourself globally.

Cutting ourselves off from other influences is short-sighted, possibly pig-headed, and will not lead to innovative, exciting design movements of the future. And for those now racing to the captcha to virtuously proclaim how few damns they give for “exciting design movements of the future” (I’m talking to you mom): it’s the Dutch Wave/New Perennial Movement you can thank for inspiring a new generation of gardeners – and non-gardeners – to create pollinator-friendly landscapes in an increasingly urbanized world.

Tom Stuart-Smith’s innovative design within the walled garden at Broughton Grange encourages gardeners all over the world to move beyond traditional borders and contrast formal architectural elements on a relaxed, perennial canvas.

This isn’t a zero sum game. The rest of the world does some things better than we do, and vice versa. Know what you know about where you garden, and know it well. Take time to know more.  Look for alternative opinions. Read footnotes. Whether British or American, pens deftly wielded as daggers can be a great deal more effective than those used to spoon-feed.

Doing all this doesn’t make you a snob – it makes you smart. And it just might put you at the top of your regional game.

Marianne Willburn is an American garden columnist and author of the book Big Dreams, Small Garden. Read more at www.smalltowngardener.com

Photo credit for Monty Don. All other photos by the author.

[i]Neither the license nor the sentence actually exist, although they should.

[ii] C’mon Timber, seriously. What if Bloomsbury snaps us up?

[iii] Countries By Density Population. (2019-10-01). Retrieved 2019-10-09, from https://ift.tt/2BoQmQI

Garden regionally. Get inspired globally. originally appeared on GardenRant on October 16, 2019.

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