#so if you see something that you editied here let me know

[momolady]

April Fool's! Author April 2024 #1

I posted some of this on Patreon and it got some good feedback. But I wanted to share some stuff before I posted it. I found a file with a ton of old writing on it. If you were on Patreon in October you got to see some of this mess. For Author April I decided to share here so ya'll can see where I started. I've been writing since I was ten, but I started writing original works around the time I got out of high school. Anyways, this is Wild Adapter. It was from 2009.

I was barely 20.

This story is FIFTEEN years old. But anyways...

I found the old book cover I made for this story and I wanted to share despite how humiliatingly bad it is. I am already considering reworking it and making it a novel by rewriting, editiing and changing a lot. My bff even gave the news that she so loved a character from this story she considered naming one of her twins after them.

So like, maybe this is worth investing time and love back into, maybe it's worth revisiting my late teens early twenties and see if that idiot had something going I can finish. Let me know, would love to make this a journey to share next year!

Prologue

Fate leads the willing and drags along the unwilling. -Seneca

When I was little, my father took me to where he worked. He was a doctor for a special orphanage and some of his patients had been asking to see me. The entire time we were there, Dad never let go of me, and whenever he did he was so close beside me it was like he was my shadow. Dad had never been this protective of me before. At the park he let me run free as long as I stayed in his sight, but he never watched me like a hawk.

He showed me into a room that had four sets of bunk beds, and I found it odd considering the room was so small. Then there were six boys and two girls. The two girls clamored around me, held me, kissed me, cooed and giggled to me. The six boys watched me with curiosity. They were amazingly still and quiet, only whispering to one another for brief moments. They were watching me as if I were some sort of fascinating animal. It looked like they wanted to approach me but were afraid I’d run away from them if I did.  

One boy managed to gather up the courage to approach. He broke away from the group and kneeled before me and the other two girls. He held his hand out and I grabbed onto it almost instinctively. I don’t remember much about him, or anyone else in that room, but I did remember the boy’s eyes as he watched me. I can’t remember the color, only that they fascinated me, dazzled me. I was little so I was able to comprehend a lot more about emotions and sensations than I do now. I can remember a great burst a joy as he looked down at me. His hand tightened over mine and he pulled me towards him. I heard Dad shout, but I felt no danger. I felt safe. The boy clutched me tightly in his arms. I heard the girls coo and muse sweetly. The boy held me tight and firm. I wasn’t sure, but I believe he was crying.  I wanted to hold him. But my arms were too small.

Chapter One: The Empty House

I came home expecting the house to be completely empty. I could also see smoke rising from the chimneystack on father’s private lab where our backyard had once been. This meant I would have to make dinner then deliver it to him and watch him eat it to make sure he actually had something to eat that night.

Dad and I lived alone in a three story Victorian mansion painted mint green. The house itself was largely unfurnished due to that fact it was too big for the two of us. The house also had a screened in porch at the back and ivy growing all around it and up to the roof. It had been in my mother’s family for generations. Technically, according to family tradition, I was the heir of the house considering I was mother’s last living descendent. Dad and I joked about this. He said I could kick him out anytime and he could live alone in the lab. I said then I wouldn’t have to work and I could let my friends live in the house with a monthly rent. I would never do that though, even though Dad did practically live in the lab. The mansion was his home, our home. And we were the only things we truly had.

In back, where my swing set used to be, sat Dad’s private lab. I tried to keep it private for him, but every so often I went inside and became his lab assistant. To me it looked like the science lab of a high school, a well stocked high school lab at that.

During the seventies a garage with an apartment above it had been added back when my mom’s parents did use it as a boarding house. The apartment had been Mom’s room, keeping her away from all the hippies and beatniks her parents said. The garage apartment then became my brother Spencer’s when he turned ten. I hadn’t been inside it for over ten years. At least not since he and Mom died. In fact the garage itself became untouched save for storage. Dad and I parked out front then walked around to the back door and into the bright, yellow kitchen.

I was surprised though, that when I entered the house Dad was sitting at the table preparing the take out he had ordered from Lee’s Take Out Dragon of Fifth Street. We both stared at each other for a moment, as if we had no idea who the other person was. We then smiled awkwardly and went on with what we had been doing before.

I sat my school things in the closet and kicked my shoes off against my bag. I then wafted over to the dinner table and looked over the spread Dad had ordered. It was a rare occasion when Dad made dinner. It wasn’t that he was lazy or a bad parent, he just got wrapped up in his work easily. That, and he nearly burns down the house every time he attempts to cook.

He sometimes jokingly said that while working he would remember he had a daughter and come in to discover me five years older than he had last seen me. For me, I said he’d come in looking the same each and every time I saw him.

His hair would be shaggy, unkempt, and graying around the ears. His lab coat, uneven due to sloppy buttoning, yellowing at the cuffs and collar, and dingy from being worn without-end. His shoes untied, scuffed, and often times mismatched like his socks. His glasses smudged, lopsided, and duct taped to the point I had to force him to buy a new pair.

His face was unexplainably young and handsome for his age. Under his disheveled hair he had bright green eyes surrounded by long black lashes. He had a cute button nose and smooth cheeks with high cheekbones. He had dimples whenever he smiled and a round beauty mark at the corner of his lips. Despite his scruffy and unkempt appearance my father’s skin was always clean and unblemished furthering his youthful appearance.

I more than often thought my father was an ancient alchemist who had created a philosopher’s stone and was perpetually manufacturing an elixir that kept him from aging. If so, this answered a lot of questions about him. He was more knowledgeable than his age allowed and often spoke with outdated words and phrases. I also found myself hoping I had his good genes and was able to look that good at his age.

I looked up as Dad handed me a plate and fork. His dimples appearing in a shy, sheepish fashion in an attempt to get me to speak.

“You didn’t tell me you got a job.” He replied, sitting down in his chair.

“I‘ve had it for two months.” I answered, sitting at the opposite end of the table. Then for his benefit I quickly added on, “And it’s only part time so it doesn‘t affect my school work.” I smiled. “Not that I have much anyways.” I joked.

Dad’s eyes softened, making him look pitiful. “I still don’t like you working during the school year. Don’t I give you enough money?”

“You do, Dad.” I argued in attempts to get that sad look off his face. “But I need to get out of this depressing house once in a while. I need this job, Dad.”

“Are you sure?” He pressed.

“My school work is better than ever, considering I only have electives this semester.” I plopped a spring roll onto my plate. “Besides, I’m using the money you give me to start up a college fund.”

I could see a twinkling smile in his eyes. “Well that’s very smart of you, Mackenzie.” He was overly proud of me, especially during moments like these.

Dad was one of the only people who called me by my first name instead of a silly nickname. I had several. My friends called me Mac, Kenny, KZ, MC, and a number of other things. I suppose I had my darling friend Scout to thank for that. She had started the whole nickname craze back in fifth grade and ever since then I’m never, ever called by Mackenzie. Unless someone is angry of course.

“When do you go to work again?” Dad asked between bites of his fried rice.

“Um…tomorrow.” I answered.

Dad stopped shoveling fried rice and looked up at me in shock and awe. “But it’s Saturday.”

“I know.” I sighed, shrugging my shoulders. “But they need all the help they can get and I’m one of the few delivery people who actually work.” I grunted.

The place I worked at was a small collection of family owned business that, in recent years, had pulled together to form one industry that sold books, baked goods and other food, movies, games, appliances, and other such things. They called the place the Market. Not only that, they delivered, which was my job.

Also, I wasn‘t just working tomorrow because they needed me. I had a whole ulterior motive for wanting to work that day and working the one route everyone avoids on Saturday due to this very reason. Every Saturday a huge order of food, books, games, and everything and anything imaginable went out to a thought-to-be abandoned studio in the artist district downtown. And for the past month I had been working at the Market I had had to make a delivery to that building where I would be greeted by a voice through an intercom and two envelopes in the mailbox. One filled with the money to pay for the delivery and the other with a large tip for me. But it wasn’t the tip I was after.

The voice on the other end of the intercom was polite and nice, but I never learned his name, unlike with most people on my route, and I had never seen him. Since I already had an over active imagination it was going crazy at the prospects at what the intercom hid. I had already made up my mind to at least try and befriend the faceless voice, or at least learn his name.

Everyone at work had rumors about the place. There was one stipulating it was a crazy shut-in who was actually the second person on the grassy knoll, running since the assassination on JFK years and years ago. One was that it was what was left of Manson’s cult, in hiding until they receive word. Another, even more ridiculous idea was that it was a coven of vampires. Then again, a recent boom in the vampire craze had been going on so I chalked this up to the overactive imagination of fans.

While the first two could be considered plausible, although I doubted it, the voice sounded really young. And while I had never met the guy, he seemed sweet and nice, so I doubt he could be a killer at all. I could feel it in my gut that I was nowhere near harm standing there in front of his door.

The next day as I arrived at the Market I found one of my coworkers, and best friends, Dee Laughlin, sitting in the employee lounge sipping on a cup of hot tea. She looked up at me with her large hazel eyes and beamed.

“Good morning, Mac.” She greeted me cheerfully.

“Hey Dee.” I answered as I moved over to the snack machine to decide what to have for breakfast.

“Scout said she was going to be running late today.” Dee murmured, looking back briefly at her opened book before she shut it. “You know there’re same day old donuts and pastries in the bakery you can help yourself to.” She chose a job in the Market Bakery in order to loose weight. She said if she worked around the stuff long enough, she’d grow and aversion to it. Sure enough, she had, but in the process she had become addicted to the overly sweet coffees they also served.

“Nah.” I mused, placing a dollar bill into the machine. “I’m fine with this.”

“I just fixed some coffee too, so help yourself.” Dee mused as she looked dreamily back into her book.

“I don’t understand why you don’t just work in the bookstore instead of the bakery.” I chuckled, moving towards the coffee pot.

“I work in the bakery to have an aversion to pastries.” Dee laughed. “You know that. Besides, if I had a job in the bookstore, I’d never have any money. I have insurance and a car payments to think about.”

I nodded. “Well, what about Scout?” I asked as I poured my coffee into a yellow mug with a P on it. Scout loved the mug for this reason.

“Scout is a special case.” Dee muttered bitterly and snapped her book shut. “She rides her scooter everywhere she goes and with all the games and videos she buys she doesn’t have to go anywhere else.” She then watched me as I added creamer and sugar to my mug. “And what about you?”

I peered up from my brewing. “Me?”

“You’re Dad pays for everything and even gives you money for the week. Yet you’re working here.” Dee paused a moment to tie back her cropped, sandy hair into pigtails that jutted out from behind her ears.

“I work to get out of the house. I’m not like Scout in that department.” I breathed, taking a seat across from Dee at the table.

“And you deliver, the most brutal job to take! Why don’t you just stick to working in a specific station like Scout and I do?”

I told Dee everything. I enjoyed the deliveries and not having to stay in one place all day. I got to travel around and meet new people and see new places. I also got to drive, which I loved doing anyways. I got to drive in places, that during the right season, were straight from fairy tale lore. Doing the deliveries gave me a chance to escape the mundane life that had built up in the years of complacency I had gotten used to since the accident.

Dee nodded in approval. “To each his own.”

The door slammed open and a white blur whipped into the room followed by a cold gust and a bundled up Scout Theobald. After slamming the door back shut and shaking the freshly fallen snow from her shoulders, Scout peered out from between her hat and scarf  with her big blue eyes.

“It just started snowing like crazy for no apparent reason out there!” Scout blurted as she unwrapped herself from her thick jacket and scarf. She hung them on the coat rack and readjusted her beloved cap. She wore that hat religiously and she wore it proudly. She had received the hat from her favorite band’s guitarist when, in a moment of extreme ripping, had tossed his head so hard that the hat flung out into the crowd and into Scout’s eager fingers.

“You’re early.” Was all Dee and I could think to say to her.

Scout’s already thick bottom lip pouted out even further, looking like a slice of apple, as she frowned at us. “I saw this snow start up and decided to be early than never, or, God forbid, buried in that mess.” She peered out the window before she grabbed up a coffee mug. “I ain’t ever seen it snow this hard before.”

Dee and I both stood up to peer out the window. “You didn’t come here on your scooter did you?” Dee gasped, looking over her shoulder at Scout in awe and horror.

Scout shrugged, more snow falling from her curly, amber colored hair. “What else could I do?”  She took a deep sip of coffee.

“Take the bus.” I scoffed. “You could have gotten yourself killed in this weather!”

“It’s safer than a car.” Scout argued weakly but triumphantly. “The worst I could get is a cold.” She then laughed at the idea.

“Or pneumonia.” Dee snapped.

Dee and Scout had known each other longer than any two people should. They had grown up together, going through school in the same class since second grade. They had been together so long they could finish each other’s sentences. They sometimes even came into work wearing similar outfits. I was often jealous of how close they were. While I had met and befriended them in the fifth grade, at least seven years ago, I still felt like the third wheel. And even though they were my closest friends and confidants. I don’t think I have ever really had a best friend.

Scout pushed a stray hair out of her eyes then sat down at the table. “I never get sick.” She bragged proudly, putting on her Joan Crawford smug expression.

Dee and I sat down on the other end of her and decided not to argue with her. She had obviously survived the storm and like she said, she never got sick. She took a lot of personal days during the school year, but never once had she taken a day because of a cold or other illness.

“I’m glad I work in the bakery where it’s warm.” Dee breathed. “I know I’d probably die if I had to work in that weather.” Her and Scout then both glanced over at me. “Sorry Mac.”

“Sorry for what?” I asked. “They’ll probably make me work stock or cover a shift in a section today.” I turned back to the window. “There’s no way in hell they’re going to make us do deliveries today.” I turned back to my coffee and was struck by the realization of what I had just said. I wouldn’t be able to go to the studio today and try to make contact with whatever it was living behind those walls. I bit my lip and sighed disappointedly.

“Or they’ll just let you go home.” Scout grinned. “Or, you could take over my shift and I can go home.” If I had a younger sibling, I’d want them to be like Scout.

“Don’t be such a lazy mooch, Scout.” Dee scolded. “Although, it does sound tempting.” She sighed dreamily. “A hot cup of herbal tea, a good book, and the fire place. Oh, and my favorite tunes playing full blast in my new surround sound system. Sounds heavenly.” She cooed. “In more ways than one.” If I had an older sister, I’d want her to be like Dee.

“To you.” Scout sneered. “For me it’s a customized, wireless controller, bags of chips, cold sodas, the newest Slayers game, and a warm TV screen.” She took a deep sip of her coffee and added quickly. “All nestled snuggly in my bed and wrapped in several blankets.”

“Of course.” Dee snickered, wrinkling her nose. “If you had an opportunity like that, you’d never leave your home.” She glanced up at me and smiled. “What about you? What’s your dream wintry day in?”

“Well…” I thought for a moment. “I’d snuggle up on the couch with my favorite old blanket, pop in an old classic movie, then relax with a warm bowel of popcorn in my lap, a bag of chocolate chips at my right, and one of those huge jugs of chocolate milk on the floor.” I smiled dreamily at this thought. It had been a long time since I had a movie day.

Dee chuckled. “Classic literature, classic films, and…” She stared blankly at Scout. “Classic brain rotting.”

“Don’t dis it till you try it.” Scout swayed side to side, wagging her finger. She then glanced up at the clock. “Uh oh!” She finished off her coffee and jumped to her feet and strutted to the door. “Time to open shop.” She announced happily.

“You seem exuberant.” Dee mused.

Scout grinned goofily. “Of course! Today’s the release date of the new Vampire Hunter X game!” She gripped her fists close to her cheeks. “Innocent Blood the Second Dawning! I will literally be the first person to get their hands on it.”

“You enjoy that.” Dee sighed, patting Scout’s head as she left the lounge.

Scout turned to me before she left. “What’re you gonna do?”

“I’ll check my route and see what needs to be done. If there is anything serious I’ll get that done with. If not, I’ll tack it onto Monday’s shift.”

Scout nodded in agreement. “Just be real careful, Mac. If anything happened to you out there…”

I smiled softly. “Thanks Scout. I’ll be safe. Promise.”

Scout gave me another reassuring smile. “Alrighty then! Come see me anytime you want. We’ll lunch.” She then bounded out of the employee lounge and down the hall to her section of the Market.

I made my way slowly down to the delivery room. As I suspected, no one was there. All the other delivery boys must have seen the snow and said to heck with it all. I lifted up the delivery roster for my route. Sure enough, the studio’s order was on there. I checked the delivery number and found the box. There was a post-it on the front that told me to get the new game Scout had been rambling about earlier.

I’d get the game then head out to make the delivery then head home for a much needed movie date. I’d even make quick lunch plans with Scout.

I took the box with me to the gaming section of the market. Scout was surprised to see me after such a small break from one another and she happily got me the game. We made plans for lunch at noon, if weather permitted, at Dee’s bakery so we could get a discount.

I went out into the snow and wind, barely making it to my delivery car unfrozen. I was also surprised at how clear the roads were. They had probably salted them early that morning while Dee, Scout, and I had been talking.

I slowly made my way to the artist district, leery of black ice. The sky around the many studios and galleries was a dark gray from smoke billowing chimneystacks. It reminded me of a scene in an old movie depicting a very primal, coming-of-age city.

I parked out front of the old studio. As I approached the front steps, I noticed there was no smoke coming from the chimney. Perhaps the person who lived here was rich, considering how much he spent each week at the Market.

I pressed the buzzer and waited.

“Hello?”

I licked my lips and took a quick breath. “The Market Delivery. Mackenzie Bronwyn delivering.”

“Oh wow! You actually came!” He laughed. “Aw gee…I didn’t think you would be coming. Um…I didn’t put the money in the mailbox. Uh…” He stalled for a moment and I thought I heard people arguing and running around in the background.

“Uh, hold on one moment. The door is unlocked. You can come in and warm up while we get your money together.” There was a loud, stunning buzzing noise and a loud click. The doorknob turned ever so slightly.

I was so surprised I was actually frozen. Forgive the pun.

“Y-yeah. Thank you.” I turned my attention to the steely, icy doorknob. I swallowed hard and reached for it. Ice shattered as I turned the knob and pushed myself in. The door groaned lowly, like someone disappointed.

I stepped inside the large entrance hall, it was dark, but cozy and warm. I closed the door behind me and stood in the darkness. I dumped the box off the handcart and noticed I was breathing loudly. It was better than I expected. Not only did I get to have a few words with him, I was inside the studio. And from the sounds over the intercom, he wasn’t alone.

As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I could notice some of the details in the hallway.

To my left I was a little surprised to see a shattered mirror. I bit my lip and turned away from it. I wasn’t sure to take it as a sign or as a piece of modern artwork. I decided to pay more attention to the right side of the hallway, which was a large white wall covered with crayon drawings and other random artistic scribbles. Certain sections were dated and signed even. I leaned closer and ran my hand over it, barely making out the signature of Dakota.

There were three other distinct signatures on the wall but I couldn’t make out the names in the dim light. I ran my fingers across the indention of one name, trying to decipher it.

“Here’s your money.”

I gasped, jumping at the sound of his voice. I gasped and caught my breath. “Gee! You scared me.” I chuckled, scanning the darkness to try and find where the voice had come from.

“So sorry.” He laughed. “Um, here.” Two white envelopes came out of the darkness towards me. Beyond them I saw a pale, moonlight hand and arm. “You can leave the box there if you wish.”

I knelt forward and plucked the envelopes from his fingers. As soon as I did, the moonlight pale hand vanished. I studied the envelopes quietly then looked back up into the darkness. I heard something shifting as if impatient for me to leave. I opened up one of the envelopes to make sure the balance was correct.

“Just get out of here!” A voice I didn’t recognize roared out at me.

I jumped and dropped the handcart. I rushed to pick it back up and once I had a grip on it I ran back out into the white snow. I stood there at the door, wondering what had made me move so fast. I pressed my palm against my face and ran my fingers limply through my hair. I barely glanced over my shoulder at the door, afraid I might see someone or something standing there.

The intercom buzzed and I jumped again. Clutching my heart I quietly answered.

“Yes?” I gasped.

“Sorry about that.” The familiar voice said. “He’s, uh, unfriendly.”

That barely answered one of my questions. There was more than one person living in the old studio. I turned to face the intercom, unsure if I should say anything to the familiar voice beyond the door. I furrowed my brow.

“It’s okay. I was intruding.” I answered meekly. “Thank you for your continued business.” I waved, even though I knew they probably couldn’t see me.

I quietly turned back to my snow covered car. And as I drove home I began to wonder more and more about the people living within the studio. Hidden away from the public eye in a giant safe. Were they a family? Friends? How many were living there? Why were they living there? All the possibilities built up around me like walls, forbidding me to think about anything else.

Chapter Two: Like a Dream

The snowstorm didn’t stop until late Sunday night. And even then the snow stayed piled up until next Saturday due to continuous light flurries and snowfalls that occurred throughout the week.

The snow was thick everywhere, except on the roads and where people had shoveled it away, But where it still stood, like on our lawn, when you stood on it, you could detect three distinct layers. The top layer was soft and powdery, the fresh snow. The second layer was the kind of snow you’d want to use to build snowmen, for snowballs, and typical winter fun. Then, the bottom layer was thickly packed ice that probably wouldn’t disappear until spring, or, if you used a jackhammer on it.

Other than that it was safe to drive on the roads because they salted it constantly. School had only been canceled three days that week and I had to work double duty in the Market. I did my deliveries then worked in whatever section of the store that needed my help. A lot of people took any excuse to be able to take off work, especially during such heavy, snowy weather.

On Saturday it had finally gotten back to a place of normalcy where I was back to being just a delivery girl. I received my delivery roster for my route and our supervisor told us that once we finished our routes we could head on home. He said his knees were hurting him and that meant another snowstorm.

I didn’t trust his knees, but I did trust the clouds enveloped sky and the way the clouds shaped together like a package of frozen cotton swabs. And it was also as if I could smell the bad weather coming on. In a way, it was the same as the day of the accident, something just didn’t feel right.

After examining my roster and the clouds I jumped into my car loaded with packages. There was an especially huge package that took up half my back seat that was headed for the studio. It was their largest one thus far.

I delivered all the other packages first then ended my route with the artist district and the old studio. I had to pull out my trolley cart to lift the giant box. It felt like one of the boxes in Dee’s room filled to the gills with thick books.

I left the handcart at the foot of the stairs and walked up to the intercom. I pressed the buzzer and waited a moment. There was no answer. I stared puzzled at the mesh screen of the intercom and pressed the buzzer again.

Still no answer.

I decided to examine the mailbox. Perhaps they had left me a note along with the payment. I pulled out the envelopes, but no note. I pressed the buzzer again. Still there was no one to answer me.

I pulled my scarf tighter around my jaw and neck as a cold breeze floated around me. I waited for a few more minuets then descended down the stairs and went to try and heft the box onto the stoop.

It was times like these I wished Scout was around. She possessed an amazing upper body strength. I had often heard her bragging that she could lift a little over twice her body weight.

As I managed to figure out a way to balance the huge box in my arms I felt a presence around me. I glanced up to see three rough looking guys standing around me. I gave them a cordial smile then went back to work, hoping they either go away or ask to help.

I wasn’t so lucky.

One of them grabbed my arm and pulled me forward. I was able to keep myself from being pulled into their crowd by pushing against the heavy box. With a hard kick I was able to make the box flip over and disorient the gang if only for a moment.

I ran, dashing into the alley between the studio and the tenement building beside it. I heard them chasing after me so I ran faster. I pushed myself out of the small wedge between the buildings and popped out in the back yard of the studio.

The small yard was littered with rusted exercise equipment, several bent and destroyed trashcans, and stacks and stacks of folded up cardboard boxes from the Market. I heard the gang behind me and I raced forward, praying someone inside would also hear them and come out to see what the noise was about.

The ground stopped suddenly, crumbling into a huge ravine where the sewer line ran for the artist district. I looked this way and that. I stared up at the windows of the studio. All the windows were closed and covered. I ran up to the backdoor and started poudning on it and screaming

“Let me in! Let me in! Please! Someone! Help me!” There was no sound from inside, no sign of life at all. I cursed and raced for the chain link fence separating the properties. Just as I was making way over the top I was pulled back down onto the icy ground. I foot came down against my temple and for a moment everything was black.

Just as they were forcing me deeper into the snow I heard one of them scream and I slowly came back to my senses. Their release on me became looser until none of their hands were even on me. I sat up from the snow to see a black shadow bashing one of the thugs across the head with what looked like a rusted free-weight bar. I winced, relieved someone came to my rescue, but afraid I had only gotten rescued by an even more dangerous animal.

The shadow kicked at a downed thug then turned to stare at me through the visor of his helmet. He was dressed from head to foot in black leather, every inch of his skin hidden away under a thick skin of shining black. He had large shoulders and a muscular chest. His arms were twice the size of mine and I could see the ripples from the muscles even under the leather. His hands were big but thin with long fingers, his right hand still clutching onto the rusted bar. His waist was slender and he had long, muscular legs.

He walked towards me and pulled me out of the snow by my shoulders. His head bobbed up and down, inspecting me.

“You okay?” He asked gruffly.

I felt like crying but something held me back. “Y-yeah.” I sputtered. I had half expected it to be the voice over the intercom. But I was wrong and disappointed and I suddenly started crying.

“Tha-thank you so much!” I balled.

His hand came down on top of my head and ruffled my hair. “Stop crying.” He huffed, sounding a little impatient. “You’re bleeding so you better get home.” He wiped a little blood away from my temple then rubbed his thumb against his pants.

I rubbed my eyes. “Bu-but…”

“Hurry up and get home.” He pointed in the direction of the alley. “Ya hear me?” He half threatened me with the bar. “Get!” He shoved me forward with his hand then prodded my back with the bar.

I wanted to turn around and thank him again, but I was too frazzled to even breathe. Only until I had gotten in my car and lost sight of the studio did I breathe again. I pulled my car over to stop and compose myself. As I did so I saw a red motorcycle fly by with a man covered in leather riding on the back. I was so relieved I smiled. Although, I had never expected my guardian angel to be a leather clad biker.

When I got home, hoping I could take care of the cut on my head before Dad saw, I was horrified to see Dad standing in the kitchen making coffee. He was smiling when I came in but that faded away with an instant and he magically produced the first aid kit and was rushing me to sit at the table.

“My God, Mackenzie! What happened to you?” He tied my wavy black hair back for me in a ponytail, then poured some rubbing alcohol on a cotton swab.

What could I tell him? I had to think up a believable story fast.

“I was making a delivery and slipped on some ice.” I laughed.

He wiped the swab over the cut and I hissed. Nothing stung like that. “Oh my poor girl.” He whispered, then putting some disinfectant on it. “Did anyone help you?”

I smiled. “Yeah. Someone helped me.”

“That’s good.” Dad then put some Neosporin on the cut and a little band-aid. “Where did you fall at?” He asked, putting the kit away.

“Um…the artist district, in front of the old studio.”

Dad furrowed his brow and looked at me as if he wanted to ask me something then he went back to placing the first-air kit back in the cabinet above the stove.

“Well I’m just glad you’re safe.” He kissed me on the forehead. “Please be more careful next time. Okay?”

I nodded. “Okay, Dad.” I then smiled reassuringly for his benefit.

“Oh!” I then quickly changed subject. “Would it be okay if I spent the night with Scout and Dee tomorrow?”

“That’s fine with me. But you girls be careful in this weather, okay?”

The next day, Sunday, I went back to the studio. I carried with me a gift of thanks for the man clad in leather, hoping he was a tenant at the studio. As I had made my way to the studio a thick snowstorm had blown up and by the time I had gotten there, I couldn’t see barely five feet ahead of me. Everything thing was white and swirling like a snow globe with too much glitter inside.

I raced through the snow, pressing against the wind as if it were a wall and finally I came up on the stoop where I was a little safer from the icy elements, but just barely. I pressed the buzzer, praying they would answer inside.

“Hello?” The voice sounded quizzical.

“Hi, it’s me.” I rasped. “Mackenzie. Mackenzie Bronwyn” I blurted. “Listen I hate to bother you but I came by with a gift for the guy who saved me yesterday.”

I was equally surprised to hear him blurt back at me. “What are you doing out here? You could have gotten yourself killed in this weather. Yes! Come on! Come in!” He sounded both angry yet concerned for me. The door made the loud buzzing and it was kicked open from inside.

As I walked back into the warm hallway I heard an angry wind howling out behind me and slam the door against my back. I squeezed the gift close to my chest and held in my scream. My eyes locked on the broken mirror, many eyes looked back at me.

I waited for what seemed like hours there in the entranceway for someone to great me. Finally I heard someone approach then stop suddenly beyond the line of darkness.

“Are you warm enough?” He struck a match and lit and candle. In the glow of it I just barely made out his soft features. He was young, a little older than me but still young. He had soft, white skin and dark hair.

“Yes, thank you.” I looked down at my gift and held it out at arms length. “I don’t know if he lives here or not but I just wanted to thank the guy who saved me yesterday.”

“That’s very kind of you.” He breathed softly. “Um…listen, Mackenzie…” His voice cracked. “Our power is out, and, um, I don’t know when it’ll it come back on. I’ll give you some matches and candles if you want them.

“If I have to I suppose…” I held my arms back to my chest. “Is the snowstorm that bad?”

“Something like that.” He murmured. “I made up a room for you that you can stay in until the storm clears up. Is that alright?”

I felt oddly at home yet unwelcome at the same time. “That’s very nice of you. Thank you.” I swallowed. “I’m sorry I intruded like this. I never expected to the weather to get this bad this quickly.”

“It’s alright just come this-”

“No way!” Another voice blurted. “She can’t stay here. You!” The new and angry voice roared at me. “You need to go!” I barely made him out in the candlelight. His brow was heavy and creased, his face covered with stubble.

“Dude! Don’t be so cruel.” The first voice snapped. “It isn’t safe out there for her to drive.”

“Well we can’t keep her here.” The second voice sneered.

“You don’t have to worry about her.” The first voice whispered. They probably thought I couldn’t hear them. But ever since I was a little child, I could always hear the faintest of noises. I was rather proud of my unnatural hearing ability.

Well, right now I felt rather uneasy over hearing this odd conversation. I was an outsider who could possibly be in on a deep secret the tenants of this old studio hadn’t let out to anyone except themselves. I swallowed hard. I wanted to leave then and there to stop their fighting. But outside the wind was getting louder and louder, and the sound of ice beating against the door was growing from faint, tiny tinks to the sound of loud knocking.

Finally, the second voice roared. “Fine! But don’t come crying to me when she sees you and goes running away screaming!” He stormed off and I heard a door slam and something shatter.

“Um…Mackenzie?” The first voice murmured. “Can you see well enough in this light? Or would you like the candle?”

“Yeah, I can see fine. I don‘t need the candle” I gulped. “I hope I’m not intruding or anything.”

“Not at all.” He laughed softly. “My name is Vegas.” I heard his hand slide across the wall. “You know. It’s funny really. Ever since you became our delivery girl I had this feeling about you.”

“Excuse me?” His words made my insides jump. I suddenly felt scared.

“Well, you know how you sometimes have this sixth sense about a person who one day winds up being your closest friend?” Vegas asked. “That’s kind of what I meant. Sorry if I scared you.”

“Oh.” I chuckled meekly. “Sure, sure.” I didn’t have the guts to tell him that I felt the very same way.

I heard a door click open and a ray of grayish light poured into the hallway. I also had a feeling that Vegas was hiding himself behind the door.

“Here you go.” He handed me the candle. “If you need anything use the intercom and call for me.” He said as I stepped into the room. “I’ll bring you lunch later.”

I suddenly remembered my thank you gift and held it out towards the shadows of the hall. “You take it.” I instructed. “You’re being much to kind to me.” I then quickly tacked on, “Its pie. I made it, so I can’t say if its good or not.”

I heard the paper bag rustle as he opened it up. “What flavor is it?”

I beamed and wanted to go back out into the hallway. “Apple. I learned how to make them when I did a temp job in the bakery at the Market a few weeks ago. I hope you like it.”

“Yes. Thank you.” Vegas chuckled.

I smiled and turned into the dimly lit room, closing the door behind me. Hoping for a miracle, I felt along the wall for a light switch. A single skylight flickered on, but it was so weak it was barely better than the glow of the candlelight. I opened the curtains to my window and stared out at the snowstorm. Everything was white, but at least it allowed more light into the room.

I stared around, only now noticing that all four walls were made up of shelves filled with books, comics, movies, and magazines. I had never seen such a massive collection in person before. All I could do was standing there and stare around.

I then got the courage to actually touch something. I pulled a book from the shelf and flipped it open. I then looked to the pile of blankets and pillows sitting by the door  and laid them out on the rug in the middle of the room.

I then picked me out a stack of books and magazines and curled myself down to read. But all I could do for the longest time was stare off into space and daydream. I was inside the studio, and I couldn’t have been more breath taken. But at the same time I trapped there, almost a prisoner. In a way, I was like a prisoner in a tower. Like Beauty from Beauty and the Beast, my favorite story and fairy tale.

Chapter Three: Life on Mars?

I had fallen asleep while reading, a common side effect for me. Although I was no longer on the big rug in the center of the floor, but lounged up comfortably on the large couch resting under the canopy of a bookshelf. I pushed the thick blanket off the top of me and stared at the clock sitting on the table beside me. It was a little passed five.

I figured Dad wasn’t worried, since I lied and told him I was spending the night at Scout’s house. More than likely he was holed up in his lab and unable to get out because of the storm. I then remembered Vegas and I saw the covered dish sitting on the table right beside the alarm clock. That explained how I ended up on the couch and it made me feel embarrassed but also impressed and flattered. Vegas was either a great gentleman or an even greater pretender.

It was then to my great dismay that I needed to use the bathroom. I had no idea where to begin. So when I blindly made my way out into the hallway I simply prayed for the best. I feel into a long, narrow hallway, but it creped me out so bad I didn’t try to find the door at the end. After a few more minuets of searching I suddenly stumbled into an open door and crashed onto the floor.

“Mackenzie?” Vegas gasped.

“Oh! So sorry.” I grunted as I lifted myself off of the carpet. “I was just…” I held my head. “The bathroom.” I muttered just above barely audible.

Vegas helped lift me up and placed me in a chair. “You okay?” He quickly stepped away from me and back into the shadows.

“Disoriented.” I managed to laugh. “Sorry again for falling into your room like that.” I tried to make out his silhouette in the dark in vain.

“It’s okay. I’m kind of glad you showed up.” I heard him stand up and walk back towards his door. “I had a talk with my brothers and we felt like you shouldn’t be kept in the dark like this.” The way he said you bothered me a little. It was like I was supposed to be in on the secret yet had no idea about it.

“But you said your power was out.” I chuckled nervously.

Vegas laughed softly. “If only it were that simple.” He took a deep breath. “I do hope you have an open mind about things.” He spoke softly and I could hear him moving about in the darkness. “I also pray you don’t scare easy. Here, take my hand.”

I reached up blindly in the darkness, finally touching something solid and warm. But it wasn’t what I was expecting. The palm of his hand was rough, like the calloused heel of a foot. The back of his hand was soft and furry and reminded me of Dee’s old Labrador. I looked up, trying to follow his arm and figure out this strange puzzle.

“Do I have your hand?” I asked, confused.

He half laughed, half sighed. “Yes. You have it.” He said as he helped me ease back up to my feet.

There was a click and fluorescent lights blinded me. I stared between my fingers at the oddly shaped figure standing a few feet before me at his open door.

“I am truly sorry if this bothers you.” Vegas murmured.

As my eyes became accustomed to the light I slowly became aware of the figure standing before me. I noticed that his outline was odd, rather shaggy. I rubbed my eyes, hoping the blur would take a much finer shape.

I became aware of pointed ears, jutting out from where ears normally were but to a length that they surpassed the head like an animal’s. And the shagginess didn’t stop at the head, it was as if his entire body was covered with thick, dark fur. But how could that be? When I saw him in the glow of the candlelight he had a milky white complexion and hair like a sheet if black satin.

I first stared down at the hand I was holding. The rough palm, in fact, looked like the underside of a dog’s paw. And while shaped like any normal hand, it looked like I was holding some Halloween glove for a Wolfman costume. My eyes trailed up the arm, growing wider the further up I stared. There I was, standing before a man-animal. At first, I thought of a werewolf. But the more I looked at him I didn‘t see a horror movie monster. His green eyes were certainly human, more human than even my own. But he was definitely not human. I recoiled and took several steps away. I wasn’t afraid, but I was shocked. His hand hung suspended in midair.

“Sorry. Again.” Vegas whispered, his hand falling back to his side. “If you don’t like it. We can all leave you be until the storm is over and you can leave.”

I suddenly found myself touching his outstretched arm. My hands worked up the shaggy black fur of his arm and onto his face, both my hands pinching his cheeks.

“Am I dreaming?” I muttered breathlessly.

“I believe you pinch yourself when you feel that way.” Vegas chuckled, a little surprised at my reaction.

I pulled my hands back. “Oops!”

Vegas rubbed his face where I had pinched him. “Quite alright.”

“How did this happen to you?” I asked, reaching out again and brushing my fingers through his shaggy, shiny mane. “How come you…“ I hesitated, trying not to think along the lines of horror movies. “Are you circus freaks?” My voice squeaked.

Vegas shook his head glumly. “I wish it were that simple, Mackenzie. But I’m afraid our tale is a bit more complicated.” He shrugged.

“How many more of you are there?” I asked, following Vegas down the now brightened hallway.

Vegas opened a door for me. “Didn’t you need to use the restroom?”

“Um…” I glanced over at him and blushed. “Yeah. I guess I did.”

“I’ll wait out here for you.” He said, turning his head away as I walked into the bathroom. I hurried myself as much as I could, but as I sat there I couldn’t help but feel I recognized Vegas from somewhere. His form, his shape, his eyes all seemed familiar to me.

I then went back out into the hallway and looked up at him, standing like a guard on the left side of the door. “I’m good now.”

He nodded and waved his hand for me to follow.

“So?” I asked again. “How many?”

“Four. My four brothers and me. You kinda met Lexington.” He spoke about the second, much angrier, voice in the hallway last night. “Sorry about him.”

“No need to apologize.” I examined Vegas closer. I now noticed that he wore some straight leg blue jeans and a red vintage tee shirt bearing a classic band’s logo on the front. “I can see why he was…hesitant.”

“Hesitant is a soft word to use for his actions.” Vegas breathed. “Come on, I’ll introduce you to the rest of the family. You woke up in time for dinner.” He hesitated and glanced over my expression. “Only if you want to.”

“I think I owe it to you.” I said brightly. “I’ve seen you, I might as well see the rest of the family secret. After all…” I took a deep breath. “You were brave enough to reveal this to me.”

Vegas smiled. “I knew I was right about you.”

I couldn’t help but smile back.

It was funny how his face worked. While being wolf like in every sense, he had a very human face, especially around the eyes. His eyes were the deepest forest green, like my mother’s and brother’s eyes had been.

He then had a cute little muzzle, not exactly as long as a wolf’s but enough to protrude from his face. If he were bigger and hulked over, he would be exactly as I pictured the Beast from my favorite fairy tale. That’s where I recognized him!

It was then I also noticed his body shape. I suppose it was because I wanted to figure out who the leather-clad biker had been. But Vegas didn’t fit the bill. He had small shoulders and lean, but muscular, arms. He also had a thicker waist and longer legs. I was slightly disappointed.

Vegas glanced over his shoulder at me. “You’re quiet back there.”

“S-sorry! Just lost in thought.” I caught up to Vegas so I walked beside him. I could feel the fur on his arm against my own. Vegas was also quite tall and my head barely cleared his shoulder blade.

Vegas then pushed open a door and allowed me to step in first. The room became intensely quiet. I stared up at two more wolf-like boys. They were sitting at a bar on high stools. One had his back turned toward me and the other was staring wide eyed and worriedly at me.

“Guys, this is Mackenzie.” Vegas patted my back. “She’s going to be staying with us for a while.” He said cheerfully as we walked into the dining room.

I felt suddenly at ease. I raised up my hand and scrunched my fingers down in my cute, signature wave. “Hi. It’s nice to meet you.”

The one who had been staring at me was now grinning and leaping over the bar to greet me. “She likes us!” He was small, about my height, and extremely skinny. Unlike Vegas, he was a reddish brown with a white face, paws, stomach, and feet. He wore a black shirt with a video game logo on it and extremely baggy pajama pants. His tail wagged happily as he ran up to me and his bright hazel eyes sparkled.

“Delivery girl!” He reached his hand out and I took it in my instinctively, suddenly feeling nostalgic in doing so. “I’m so glad to finally meet ya in person!” His thin arms then wrapped around me and squeezed me tightly. He smelled like chocolate and his fur was so soft. He then pulled away and gave me a big, toothy grin. “I’m Dakota by the way. I guess I should introduce myself before I go around hugging people.” He laughed.

“Make that a note next time you go out.” I chuckled with him, feeling extremely welcomed by the cub of the pack.

I then glanced up over Dakota’s shoulder to see the third wolf approach. He was slightly taller than me, the top of my head could easily reach the bottom of his chin. He was a peppered gray with a white muzzle, a black paw and a white paw, then both feet were black. He wore glasses before his narrow, sky blue eyes. His mane was thicker around his face than Dakota’s and Vegas’. His hands were also larger even though he had about as skinny arms as Dakota. He had a shapely rear though and well toned legs. I also noticed he wore a button up blue polo shirt and tan cargo pants with bulging pockets.

He smiled politely and held his white paw out to me. “I’m glad you’re here. I’m Raleigh.”

I managed to pull my hands away from the gleeful Dakota to shake Raleigh’s thick hand. “It’s nice to meet you. Thank you for having me.”

“We should be thanking you.” Raleigh smiled at me with a wise glint in his eyes.

“Yeah! You bring us our supplies every week. I don’t know what I’d do with out my weekly game dosage.” Dakota cheered. “Doc was right about the Market.”

“Doc?” I was about to question but Vegas cut in.

“Yeah, before the Market we used to have to order from fifty other places and the shipping was eating up all our monthly funds.” Vegas then cut a glare at Dakota who had latched hold on my hand again. “Especially those video games and anime cartoons you love so much.”

Dakota shrunk back behind me. “I know, I know.” He sighed pathetically. “Crack would be a cheaper addiction, but my body is a sacred temple.”

“So you’re the gamer.” I asked as I joined them at the bar. “My best friend Scout works in the entertainment section of the Market and she’s a huge gamer as well. Every game I’ve delivered to you she’s gotten herself.”

Dakota’s already bright eyes got even brighter and wider. “Really?” He squirmed in his seat. “I just got the new Vampire Hunter X game and I’m almost half way through.”

“I don’t get what’s so great about video games.” Raleigh sighed. “I keep telling him he can get just as much fun and excitement if head read something other than strategy guides and comic books.”

I knew who always ordered the books. “So then I take it you’re the one who orders the brunt of most of the heavy novels that have been breaking my back.” I chuckled, thinking to the previous package and how I needed the special dolly to deliver it. “The real intelligent gent?”

Raleigh sighed and took off his glasses. “Someone has to be.” He had a twinkle in his eyes as he spoke. “I guess I need to apologize for that as well. I suppose I could order the paperbacks and be a little more gentler on you. But the hardbacks just last so much longer.”

There was a familiar buzzing that rang out through the house and the boys lifted their heads in anticipation. Vegas stood up from the bar.

“That’s probably the pizza.” He said. “I’ll be right back.” As he walked towards the door he stopped at the door and scanned the sheet of pockets that hung there and plucked what looked like a checkbook from one of the many pockets.

“Are the roads clear?” I asked.

“Not really.” Dakota hummed. “But we have connections. We get whatever we want whenever we want it.” He said, grinning proudly.

“Don’t worry, Mac, we aren’t holding you here against your will. You can go whenever you want.” Raleigh said in a very serious tone. “But I wouldn’t recommended it right now.”

I smiled and shook my head. “I wasn’t thinking that. It was just surprising to me that pizza would actually deliver in ice age weather.”

Raleigh cleared his throat then removed his glasses and rubbed at the lenses with the hem of his shirt. “Oh, um, well, I was just letting you know.”

“Yeah!” Dakota chimed. “Mac probably doesn’t even wanna leave.” He grinned over at me. “Right?”

In all honesty, I did want to go home. I was really worried about Dad. But I couldn‘t tell that to Dakota, it‘d probably break his heart. “Probably not for a while.”

“Here’s the grub.” Vegas said, hauling in six pizzas, three boxes of breadsticks, and two dessert pizzas.

I stared in awe at the massive amount of pizza. “Do you always eat all this?” I gasped, staring at Dakota for the answer.

“Naw!” Dakota laughed. “We got this one for you.” He placed a whole pizza in front of me.

“I can’t eat all that.” I murmured apologetically, staring at the box.

“Really?” Dakota stared at me in disbelief. “I guess you were right Raleigh. Women really are more delicate.”

Raleigh tensed up and I’m sure if the fur wasn’t covering his cheeks they’d be bright red. “Dakota, just shut up.” He huffed and hid himself behind his box of pizza.

I smiled meekly. “Thank you very much for this. I really do appreciate the thought. You can have what I don’t eat.”

Dakota grinned another toothy grin, cheese stringing down from his jowls to the slice in his hand. “Okay!”

“What about Lex?” Raleigh asked.

“If he wants to eat he can join us.” Vegas growled.

I furrowed my brow and sat down the piece of pizza I had been chewing on. “Am I causing some sort of trouble I should know about?”

“Huh?” Raleigh gasped. “Oh no, you’re fine. It’s our other brother, Lexington. He’s being a complete jerk as usual.”

“The correct term is ass hole.” Dakota said between bites.

Vegas leered harshly down at his pizza. “He’s the one being a problem. He says that he doesn’t want you here. He wants us to make to make you leave.”

“Does he know I’m not bothered?” I asked. “I think you’re all fine! When you said all those things earlier, Vegas, I thought the worst. Like you were a coven of famous serial killers or something.”

All three of them snickered and Dakota went into a fit of high-pitched giggles. He had to drop his pizza and control a spasm of hiccups.

“Do you mind my asking why our appearance doesn’t offend you?” Raleigh asked, politely.

I shrugged, slightly embarrassed to give my answer. “Growing up I was obsessed with Beauty and the Beast.” I laughed, avoiding all of their reactions. “I know that may seem extremely silly but I think that might be the main reason.” I glanced up at each of their interested looks. I smiled meekly. “But I doubt that falling in love with you would undo this.” I meant his as a joke, but I had the sudden pain that said it was much more serious than that.To them, it actually meant something.

“So…” I muttered quietly and put on a forced smile. “That’s my silly reason.”

“I see.” Raleigh nodded.

After that, the rest of dinner was extremely quiet. I only ate three pieces of pizza and let the others pick at it. When all was said and done Dakota dragged to his room, which reminded me of how I last saw Scout’s room. There was a bunk bed against the wall with the door and across from it a huge entertainment system with a wide screen TV, several game systems, a DVD player and a fancy music system. Then, on a desk put right up to the bottom bunk was a laptop, speakers, and several game controllers. His walls were painted red and covered with movie posters, magazine clippings, and photographs. His floor was littered with his clothes, trash, and dirty dishes.

He had what I thought was a closet in the farthest corner of the room, but when he opened it up I was surprised to see row upon row of video games and cartoon show DVDs. I found myself thinking how completely opposite this home was from my very own, and I was surprised to be extremely jealous.

“Whoa.” I mouthed, staring up into the store like assortment.

“Yeah I know.” Dakota giggled. “Do you have a preference?” He asked. Then, upon seeing my confused stare, grinned. “What kind of games do you like?”

“Uh…Mrs. Pac-Man?” I muttered.

Dakota scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Fine. We’ll play this one.” He waved a fighter game before me then popped into the corresponding gaming system.

We played that for a few hours until Dakota started yawning loudly. He switched out the game for a cartoon and he curled up beside me on the bed. He fell asleep halfway through the movie, his head resting in my lap and my hand stroking his fur.

When I was sure he was dead asleep I moved him off my lap and covered him up. I turned off all his appliances and lights then exited the room quietly.

“Dakota asleep?” I heard Raleigh call from across the hall. His room was opposite of Dakota’s and I could look into his room as I turned around.

“Out like a light.” I chuckled. I leaned in his doorway and stared around at all the books. It was a little bit bigger than Dee’s own boxed collection. He had two walls of bookshelves, but they went from floor to ceiling and there were several smaller bookshelves cradled into corners. His walls were blue and he had a futon bed positioned between two corner shelves. He had a door on one of the clear walls that was cracked open and I could barely see his neatly organized closet inside.

“The radio said the storm is probably going to last another two or three days.” Raleigh said, looking at the radio sitting by his bed. “Do you think you’ll be fine staying here for that long?” He removed his glasses and sat them on his side table.

I could see the worry in Raleigh’s eyes and it reminded me of my father. “I’ll be fine.” I folded my arms across my chest. “It’s my dad I’m worried about.”

“Well…the phone lines are down. But I do believe Vegas has gone to leave your father a note.” Raleigh murmured.

“What?” I gasped, early tripping over thin air. “He’s gone to my house?”

“Yeah.” Raleigh seemed uncomfortable, like he had just released top-secret information. “He was worried about your father too. I mean, with you not being at the house and all.”

“Oh.” I bit my lip. “That was nice of him to worry.”

“Well, in my opinion, I think he likes having someone other than the rest of us to worry about.” Raleigh said as he stood up and walked towards me at the door. “We’ve been alone in this house for about six years.” He smiled. “I guess we just got boring to him.”

I nodded. “I suppose that it would get boring for anybody for that long.” I glanced over my shoulder, thinking I heard something moving at the end of the hallway. “Where did you guys move from?” I asked, looking back up at Raleigh.

“Somewhere…” He hesitated and looked away for a moment. “Somewhere very unpleasant.”

“Oh.”

“No.” He defended. “Don’t think that we don’t want you to know. I think you should know everything. But for now Vegas wants to give you time. It’s hard to explain. But trust us.”

“No. It’s okay. I owe you guys big time. No need to explain to me.” I chuckled. “I mean, yes, I would love to know. But it understand that it must be a hard thing to talk about. You guys took a big risk even showing yourselves to me.”

Raleigh smiled softly. “Do you know what an amazing person you are?” He asked. “For some reason, it’s easy around you.”

I wanted to ask him about what he meant but his head jerked upward and looked down the hallway.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Someone is home.” He muttered then looked back down at me. “Anyways, I need to get to bed.” He laughed. “If I don’t get more than eight hours of sleep I become psychotic.” His smile then faded. “Not that I don’t like talking to you!”

I shook my head. “It‘s okay. I’m gonna head on to bed too.” I reached out and patted his arm. “Good night.” I chuckled and walked down the hall.

“Good night.” I heard Raleigh echo as I made my way down the hallway.

As I passed the kitchen I heard someone moving about. I, of course, thought it was Vegas. I popped into the kitchen and sat at the bar casually. There was a box of pizza sitting open on the counter along with a glass filled with ice. I looked to the fridge, but I couldn’t see Vegas from the open door and the bright lights inside.

“Hey Vegas.” I called to him, making my presence known. “Raleigh told me you went to my house to give my dad a letter.” I said and looked at the open box of pizza, remembering Vegas had eaten a whole one plus half of mine then a box of breadsticks and half a desert pizza as well. “You didn’t need to do that.”

The fridge door closed and the wolf that stood before me was russet colored and much bigger. My jaw dropped and my breath caught inside my throat. There was no doubt in my mind that the wolf before me was the infamous Lexington.

His silver eyes narrowed upon me and he didn’t move from his spot before the fridge. I was welded to the spot as well. I felt terrified, remembering what the others had been saying during dinner. He was certainly intimidating by appearance alone.

I swallowed my heart back down into my chest and gasped for air. “H-hi there.” Which was perhaps the stupidest thing to say at this moment. I wanted tog et up and run away, but I felt that if I did, it would only make my situation worse.

Lexington was even taller than Vegas and stronger built to boot. He had broad shoulders and thick arms to match. His chest heaved in anger and his lips curled up over his fangs. His fur was a rusty brown and grew longer and wilder against the back of his head. His ears were longer too and jutted out like daggers from his head. He wore no shirt over his muscular chest but he wore a pair of ripped and faded blue jeans that smelled strongly of grease and gasoline.

I managed to catch my breath from the shock and I cleared my throat. “H-hi!” I sputtered out again. “I’m Mackenzie. You must be…” I hesitated, watching as he closed the fridge and push passed me like I was a spider dangling from the ceiling.

“Y-you’re Lexington, right?” I asked after him.

He turned and looked down at me from the other side of the island. I could see the contempt in his eyes as he leered at me. He tossed his head to the side and reached over the countertop of the island, lifting up the box of pizza. As he leaned over the island I noticed how slim his waist was and how long his legs were. I stared up at him as he sat upright again. Our eyes met and he stopped suddenly.

His eyes looked like mirrors, reflecting everything in their silvery surface. I couldn’t look away, knowing his gaze was meant to terrify me to my core.

“What the hell are you doing here?” He snarled.

“I-I was…the storm…” I stuttered.

“I meant here in the kitchen.” He snarled, ripping his teeth through the pizza like he wanted me to think he would do the same to me.

“Oh! Um…I thought you were Vegas and…” I swallowed. “I don’t know.” I muttered apologetically. As I said this he got up and moved towards the cupboards behind me.

“But I feel like if I leave I’ll, well, I’ll stay on your bad side.” I looked up at him, his back turned to me. “And I’d like to be your friend.”

Lexington turned back around and rolled his eyes at me. He pointed a long finger in my face. “You don’t belong here. You shouldn’t have even been allowed through the front door!” He barked and grabbed onto my arm.

“Hey!” I half screamed. “Let go of me.” I struggled against his strong hand.

Lex’s eyes flashed and he lowered his head slightly, talking to me in a low, almost sad, voice. “No one like you should be here. You don’t deserve this kind of punish…”

“Lex!” Vegas roared.

Lexington dropped his hand and leered up at Vegas. I jumped back a pace closer to Vegas and looked up at him cautiously then back up at Lex. His face had changed, his ears slicked back, a smirk curled his lips. He had started putting on his airs.

Lexington sneered sarcastically. “Well, well, well…” He hissed. “If it isn’t our fearless leader.” He stood so that he blocked Vegas and I from one another’s sight’s.

“Don’t you dare talk to Mackenzie like that.” Vegas snarled. “She hasn’t done anything to you.”

“Ha!” Lexington scoffed. “Yet.” He scowled down at me as he skulked out of the room. He shoved Vegas out of his way so hard I was worried for a moment.

Vegas turned back to me and stared at me apologetically. “I am so sorry about him. He didn’t say anything to you did he?”

I didn’t have to heart to tell Vegas that he did say something. Just before Vegas had interrupted him, it sounded as if Lexington was about to say: “You don’t deserve this kind of punishment.” I suddenly felt sorry for Lexington. Out of all four of the wolf-boys, I had a feeling the affliction hurt Lexington the most.

“No.” I murmured. “Nothing that was worth getting upset over anyways.”

Vegas nodded and forced a smile. “That’s good, I guess. Just don’t pay any attention to him.”

“Okay.” I nodded. “But, I don’t blame him for being defensive.”

Vegas frowned, a quizzical look to his eyes. “You don’t?”

I shrugged. “Isn’t it obvious?”

Vegas shook his head and faked a laugh. “Guess not.” He turned. “Well, I’m going to bed. So…” He hesitated, watching me with his overly human eyes. “Good night.” He muttered and walked off.

“G’night.” I answered and looked around the kitchen before I went off to my own corner of the studio.

#author april #monster romance #creative writing #writeblr #old writing #momolady monsters #my writing

[meowtalhead]

Fuck I'm so frustrated. There's a guy I met in February at a concert who I instantly got along with, and got the sense we would be best friends almost immediately, he loves metal, he loves cats, he's really funny, he makes these great comedy videos with his friends on youtube, he's a pro wrestler, he said he'd fly all the way to Italy just to watch me get some ghost merch papally blessed at the vatican because it would be funny. But recently he's been sending these like, dark, edgy memes. Family guy clips and shit. At first I thought well whatever, probably just a symptom of him being a cis straight dude in his 20s, he hasn't sent me anything too bad and he seems like he'd be receptive if I talked to him about it. And he's just so nice to talk to. Then recently I sent him a picture of my cat and he said "aww so cute" and I said "very cute" and he said "she gets it from her owner" and that kind of recontextualized this conversation we had a while ago, where he asked if I was lgbt and I said "it's complicated, I'm ace but het so I kind of let the truth be in the eye of the beholder unless someone's like, trying to use my experience to exclude other het aces" and he seemed a bit disappointed for a second and said something about "I'm kind of clingy and like to be a certain kind of close in a relationship but if I really liked someone I'd still definitely try and see how it goes" and I mean, I like him too, he's EXACTLY my type, could not possibly be more my type if he tried, but he lives far away and I don't know if I have the time and energy for a relationship and I've never been on the receiving end of a crush before so my brain can't handle it and even if I DID return his feelings I'm afraid to enter into a relationship that might be doomed from the beginning from a fundamental incompatibility and lose out on what I'd be more than happy with as a lifelong friendship. But recently he's said some things that seem... off. He said his brother was listening to heavy metal one day and the neighbors called the cops because they thought the screaming they were hearing was domestic abuse. And I said oh wow I hope someone let them know everything was ok, and he said something like lol who cares my brother thought it was funny. And I get it, acab, I understand not being particularly sympathetic to someone who sent the police over to you, but they were genuinely worried someone was hurt or in danger, it feels wrong to make light of the situation and laugh at it even if no one was actually harmed, right? And then today he sent me a clip of a psa about school shootings from a meme page with a 😭 emoji editied over it. Like jesus christ. Is that supposed to be funny? That's fucking dark. Even if what you're laughing at is the editing or the over-acting or how aggressive the ad is that's still not at all something to joke about. How am I supposed to even respond? I really want to be friends with this guy but what the absolute hell. It feels like it was all too good to be true, I always felt a sense it was too good to be true, I think I've been ignoring it a while. I don't want another thing to go wrong and I really don't want the memory of my first powerwolf concert tainted by this dude turning out to be fucked up. God. Idk what I'm even supposed to do here. I've got too much other shit going on in my life to deal with this right now

[jinkicake]

no thoughts just running away in a flowy gown through the streets of Italy from don giorno

((((anon... ANON... okay give me like ten minutes to post my other works and then Imma come back and just dump my entire BRAINROT that I have because of this post WAAIIITTT this is so good,,, you’re.... a genius))))

A/N: Okay..... this is so messy, so rough and I can’t believe I wrote 1.6k words in less than an hour BUT... here you are Anon~~~ a little something based off of your message hehehe it’s lowkey yandere :0 (Also... in part five theyre in naples right? LMFAO i can never remember) Anyway I have an early class tmr so I have to cut it short so this is not editied and -again- very messy,,, I will try to fix it later but for now~~~ here is my take on running away from Giorno LOL 

Giorno x Reader

This has lowkey yandere themes... 

WC- 1,637

All you want at this moment is to rip your constricting dress off. The thin, pale blue material is suffocating, every layer tightens around your skin and makes it that much harder to run. You’ll do anything to help you free yourself from Giorno’s clutches. And as of right now, you have your foot in the door. 

At least, you think you do. Unbeknownst to you, the little ladybug necklace adorning your neck has other thoughts. 

It was smart to leave (escape) in the early afternoon, right as your fiancé was in the midst of all of his meetings and when it was most crowded in the streets. You could easily blend in with all the other people, at least until nightfall. 

It has become your mission to get as far away from Naples as you can before the moon starts to rise. You quickly found out that is easier said than done. 

If only the streets weren’t filled with his men, if only every single person who makes eye contact with you wasn’t on his side. 

You knew that the moment Giorno had found out about this, about your betrayal, that there would be dire consequences. Yet again, it was never your intention to allow him to ever find you again. 

Given by your own personal estimation, you had about another five minutes before he was alert of your missing status. The guards stationed at your shared apartment change positions every twenty minutes to ensure that not one of them gets any special amount of time with you. The helicopter gaurds hovering over you were such a pain. Too bad you had already disposed of those on stand, it’ll be a quick affair once everyone notices your lack of presence. 

“Fuck,” You murmur as your flat, clearly not made for running, catches on one of the cracks in the street. Your chest heaves up and down with each breath as you stare at the unfamiliar crowd trying to pick up on any familiar face. A wave of relief washes over you when you realize that you don’t recognize any of them. 

You can do this, you can do this. Start over, somewhere new, somewhere like France or Switzerland. You can escape. 

And you truly believed that, you kept running with all of your might and didn’t stop to look back once. After some time, the streets started to mesh together and it felt as if you had started running around in circles. You didn’t have time to worry about that, not as the sun was setting and the streets were starting to clear up. Any leverage, any chance of escape that you had, would be lost if you did not make it out of Naples. 

Maybe you could find a bus that would take you up to Rome, then up and the hell away from Italy. Maybe a boat would be quicker, a motorcycle? 

All at once, your senses start to close in as you realize that you did not take advantage of your situation. You did not think this through, you saw a chance and you took it. You’ll fight until your last breathe, until Giorno finds you again. There is no way in hell you’re going to let this golden opportunity go to waste. 

But, God, had you fucked up. You fucked up, really bad, but deep in your heart you know it was worth every single second. 

It doesn’t matter how far or how fast you run now. 

The abandoned alleyways tell you everything you need to know, it’s now completely dark outside and late into the night. The streets are cleared, silent, except for the telltale sounds of your shoes lighting pounding into the pavement. 

You tightly bunch your hands up in the sides of your dress before pulling the fabric up and running with all of your might. You should have ditched the dress earlier, it was only ever holding you back but it’s not like you had another change of clothes. 

Giorno always liked you dressed up. 

Almost as if you were his little doll. 

A black car stops suddenly at the end of the street, blocking off the entire road and cutting through the silence with a loud screech of its tires. It’s not enough to intimidate you, you still refuse to give up. 

Almost too quickly you swiftly turn around, hot on your heels ready to run away, right into a broad chest. 

The black suit fills your vision before you can actually see the figure, but you can still feel their presence right away. You’re done for, you’re done for. 

“You ruined your pretty dress,” Giorno’s soft face portrays a frown as his eyebrows furrow in disinterest. His light eyes still hold concern only for you. He reaches his hand up to brush the stray strands of hair from your cheeks and you immediately flinch, taking a step back only to bump into something else.

This time you’re almost too scared to turn around, you would much rather face Giorno than the other figure. An unpleasant huff causes you to shakily glance over your shoulder and face Golden Experience Requiem. It’s staring down at you with betrayal deep in its eyes, hands twitching next to your own.

You couldn’t take the stand on even if you wanted to. 

You try to move, step away, but the stand is much quicker and grabs your biceps to hold you still. Its pants rest heavily in your ears and you don’t even dare to look up at Giorno who has started pacing in front of you. 

You feel so stupid, oh so stupid, the dress is filthy and dirty. Everything is torn at the seams, your shoes are worn down, your hair is flung all over your face, you’re a complete and utter mess. 

It only gets worse when you hear the robotic sounds behind you. Still gutted with betrayal, Golden Experience Requiem utters a single word in his polite tone that matches his user’s. 

“Why?” 

Your eyes slightly widen at this and as a result, the grip on your biceps grows tighter. 

“Why? Why?” The mechanic voice demands and you’re nearly shaking beneath its grip. Now, you know why Giorno is so silent. He never loses his composure in front of you, he is always calm and ahead, always one step in front of you. With his stand, however, he can’t help but express all his feelings as he desires. 

An apology feels heavy on your tongue because you’re not sorry, you have nothing to apologize for. 

“I wanted to go home.” You daringly lift your gaze to look straight at your fiancé, glaring at him as if it could make him disappear. 

“Then let’s, we can discuss the matters of this evening there,” Giorno takes a step toward you, and he is beside you, resting his hand on your shoulder as he waits for you to turn around and follow him. 

Your stubborn eyes, filled with tears, nearly makes him sigh. 

“Please don’t be difficult,” He tries to cup your face but his own stand pulls you tighter into its chest. Golden Experience Requiem has always been so possessive over you and never afraid to show it. Giorno knows that he couldn’t call his stand back even if he tried, not until you were safely in the car. 

“I want to go home.” You repeat, too calmly for your current panicked state. A long, cold arm drapes over your chest and you feel your feet start to rise against the hard road beneath you.

The stand is literally dragging you back to the car with no remorse. 

And stupidly, you make another mistake.

“Not with you,” At this point, you’re sure you won’t make it out of this experience alive. You keep making it worse and worse for yourself as if you can’t help it. 

Giorno stills, and the slight clench of his jaw is enough to have you sprinting back into his car. 

“Then with who?” He asks through his teeth, glaring harshly at the side of your face as you continue to look away from him. It’s not enough for him and he tightly grabs your jaw with his hand to force you to look at him. His fingers dig into your cheeks when you still refuse to look at him. “With who, darling?” 

No air is flowing through your system. You can’t concentrate on anything, not on the stand behind you tugging on your body possessively or your fiancé holding you just as angrily. 

“Myself,” You finally tell him honestly and look up at him, Giorno physically calms down at the sight. 

“I can take you there if it means you will stop acting out,” The offer, the bargain, falls short on your ears and a new frown takes up your face. 

Giorno is taunting you, teasing you.

You know there is no chance in hell he would let you go home, let you visit the place you miss the most. He knows he’ll never get you back if he does. Giorno is just using this to get you back in the car.

He’s done it once before, and this certainly won’t be the last time he does it either. 

“I will bring you there, (Y/N).” He restates and you stubbornly hold your place. “You don’t want to go anymore?” His jaw ticks and you can hear the irritation filling his voice. “It’s so hard to please you,” The tightening grip on your biceps shows his frustration even if he doesn’t physically face you with it. Golden Experience Requiem has you under lock and key, hugging you so tightly that you’re almost gasping for air. “One last chance.”

One last chance to take him up on his pseudo offer, to entertain his twisted fantasy. 

This is your split road, lick your fiancé’s wounds or let the gash grow bigger and bigger. 

Either way, you’ll end up back at his estate, now all that matters is the punishment waiting back for you. 

You can’t find it in yourself to move your legs. 

#giorno x reader #jjba x reader #jjba x y/n #jjba x you

[simpleb00x]

Bring Me Back (edited)

Warnings: language, implied smut

Word Count : 2000

Pairings: dean x 40’s reader

A/N: so this is the editied version of my fic, Bring Me Back. It just goes into a bit more detail and I also didn’t know the other one was going to get as much attention as it did so I didn’t really put much effort in??? Anyways, this one is the ‘proper’ one. Enjoy! P.S. This was requested by @misspygmypie

-

-

“Sam? Sam!” Dean exclaimed as the bright light surrounded him. He heard his brother shout his name back but it was too late. Dean fell in a dark alleyway, his head still spinning. “Shit. Sammy?” He asked around, but Sam hadn’t followed him through. He saw a set of headlights from one end of the alleyway. Brushing himself off, he walked over to the opening. “Holy shit.” He whispered. He certainly wasn’t in his generation. Maybe the 50’s? That witch really messed him up.

The buildings were old and made out of stone. He heard lively chatter from a bar down the road and a horse pulling a cart trotted by, a man in a suit and tophat sitting in it. Over across the road he saw a row of small houses, a woman peeking out the window of one.

“Hello?” Said a timid voice. Dean turned around and saw a young woman standing there. She was wearing a red dress that was tied around the middle. She looked young, no older than twenty or twenty one. “You look lost.” She said with a smile. “I - um. What year is it?” He asked. “1946. Why? If you don’t mind me asking.” The young woman gave him a puzzled look. “No reason. I - I am lost.” He said. She clutched her purse tighter and looked him up and down. “Is that your evening wear?” She asked, stifling a laugh. “I’m lost.” He repeated, more stern. The woman nodded and gestured to follow her.

“I’m Mary by the way. Mary y/l/n. But I will be Mary Smith once I get married in a month or two.” She informed him. “I’m Dean. Dean Winchester.” He told her. “That’s an odd name. How did your wife settle for the last name Winchester?” Mary joked, leading him down a cobbled road. “I actually don’t have a wife.” Dean said. Mary almost stopped in her tracks. “What? At that age? My god.” She said. Dean shrugged.

“Do you work?” She asked him. They were alone now, no street lights. The narrow road lead somewhere away from the town. Dean felt around for his knife but couldn’t find it. He must have dropped it. “Um. Sort of.” He replied. Mary scoffed. “Sort of?” She said. Dean clenched his jaw. “I work. With my brother. Like a family business. We don’t get paid, but there's some.. benefits.” He told her. “Huh. I don’t work. My fiance does. He’s a gunsmith. He earned a lot of money because of the war. It doesn’t help me at the moment. He’ll only share his profits with me once we get married.” Mary rambled on. Dean nodded along with her, looking around as the walked.

“Where are we going?” Dean asked. Mary giggled. “My house. Don’t worry. We have a spare room for you.” She said. Dean gave her a confused look, but she didn’t notice. To be honest, he felt very creepy vibes from this girl. The way she was right there outside the alleyway, almost as if she were waiting for him. The spare room? For him? A little weird. The questions, the rambling.. the way she just - took some random person off the street and brought them home. Definitely weird. But then again, maybe the forties were different. “Anyways. Here we are.” Mary said, pulling him out of his thoughts.

On front of Dean was a bungalow. It had a small garden and the chimney had smoke coming out of it. It looked like it was made of wood. The curtains were drawn in every window and he could see the light peeking through in one of them. She lead him in the front door, closing it behind them. The hallway was nicely decorated, on the wall was a black and white picture of a woman and a man on their wedding day. Beside it, a movie poster and a vinyl. When he looked on the other side of the hall, a record player was set up, and a wall of vinyls around it.

All he wanted to do was to go home, but maybe if he could ask around first. Get to know Mary. “I’m living with my sister until I get married. She works for us. Don’t tell anyone but she dresses as a man to get a higher paycheque.” Mary said. Dean nodded. “That makes sense.” He replied. Mary opened an old wooden door that lead into a kitchen. A woman was sitting at the kitchen table, a cigarette hanging out of her mouth as she flicked through a book. Her feet were up on it, and she seemed focused on what she was reading. The kitchen was small, with a double door leading into what seemed like a living room. More paintings, pictures and posters were hanging up around. Dirty dishes piled high in the sink.

The woman's eyes widened as she saw Dean enter. “Don’t worry y/n. He was lost. So I brought him home.” Mary said sweetly. Y/n slammed the book down angrily and put out the cigarette. She stood up and Mary shrunk into the wall. “Mary are you mad! Do you know what this man could do? We can’t risk anyone knowing about where we get out money from remember?” She snapped. Dean's eyes trailed over her. She was wearing a suit, the tie loose and it was buttoned down one or two. Her hair down and messy from a day's work. He thought she was quite pretty. Hot even.

“It’s fine okay? Mary already told me about it and I think it’s totally fair.” Dean assured her. “Who are you? Why do you have that accent and what is with your clothes?” Y/n asked, folding her arms over her chest. “My name is Dean. Dean Winchester. I’m not from around here, hell I’m not from this time either. I’m from the future.” He said. “Oh jesus. Mary you brought home a nutter.” She hissed. “I’m not a nutter. Look..” Dean said, taking out his phone. “What on earth …” y/n muttered, grabbing it from him. “It’s a phone.” He told her. Y/n scoffed. “A phone? This is not a phone. This is a - a..” she struggled for words. “A phone.” Dean said smugly, grabbing it back off her.

“I still don’t believe you.” Y/n said. “Wait - let me show you this.” He said. Y/n folded her arms as he rummaged through his pockets. He pulled out a lighter and flipped it over. “Look. Manufactured in 2010. It’s a bit old.. but still.” He showed her. Y/n looked at the lighter. “You could be lying. I’m not usually one to snap my cap around here. But this is ridiculous!” She stated. “Snap your - what?” Dean asked. She waved her hand. “How would I lie? Huh?” He said angrily. Y/n bit her lip.

“Well if you’re from the future.. then how did you get back here?” Mary asked cutting in. Dean shrugged. “I’m not sure.” He lied. “Bullshit.” Y/n said. “Y/n! You can’t curse in front of a guest! That’s not very ladylike of you.” Mary gasped. Y/n gave her a bitter look. “Oh suck it Mary. I’ve been acting like a man for the past five years. I can talk like one as well.” She retorted. Mary opened her mouth to talk but y/n held up her hand. “Anyways. You didn’t answer my question. How did you get back here?” Y/n said to Dean. “That was actually my question…” Mary trailed off.

Dean ended up giving both of them the ‘monster talk’. He didn’t want to, but y/n was clever. She’d probably figure it out anyways. Halfway through, Mary got spooked and left to go to her fiance's house. She swore she wouldn’t tell him, but she needed someone to go to.

That left Y/n and Dean sitting on the couch in her living room. She poured Dean a glass of whiskey and poured one for herself too. “It’s all so.. horrifying.” She said, going to light another cigarette. Dean stopped her. “Don’t. Trust me. In the future, they find out these are really bad. They’ve killed a lot of people.” He said. She raised her eyebrows in surprise. “My god..” she muttered.

“You and your brother are very brave.” Y/n said. Dean rolled his eyes. “Yeah yeah. We just do what has to be done.” He said, sipping the whiskey. There was silence for a while. “Dean? Can I ask you something?” She said after a while. Dean nodded. “Of course. What?” She bit her bottom lip and it made Dean’s stomach do a somersault. He wished he didn’t feel this way about her. But he did. “What’s it like for women? In the future I mean. Do we - do we have rights? Do we still work?” She asked in a small voice. Dean nodded. “Yes. I’d say you’d like it there. Women are treated as equals, with the exception of a few assholes. Pay is even. There’s no pressure to get married. People go their entire lives without getting married..” he told her.

Her face was covered in awe as she sat for a few moments. Dean found himself even more attracted to her. The way her hair moved away from her face, how her eyebrows furrowed when she was thinking, how her eyes lit up. He could go on. She looked back up at him. Her eyes darting down to his lips and back up again. “Dean, do you have a dame. Back home?” She asked. He shook his head. “No y/n I don’t.” He told her. “Did you ever have one?” She said. Dean nodded. “A few times. In the future, people date a lot. One night stands are very popular. Where you go to a bar or a club and take a girl, or dame, home and have sex. Then you never see her again. I’ve had a few girlfriends, but nothing mad.” He replied.

She nodded. “And - and the war. It’s over, isn't it? This is the last one. No more hitler. No more discrimination.” She asked timidly. Dean looked at her in the eyes. They were beautiful. “Yes. The wars are over.” He muttered. His eyes were entirely focused on her lips. The way they moved. Soon he found himself closing the gap between them. “Dean. Are you sure?” She whispered as he got closer.

When she pulled away, her face was full of lust. He grinned. “Dean. Can we - can we have, you know…” she asked. Dean chuckled. “You want to have sex sweetheart?” He said. She nodded eagerly. “Where’s the bed in this place?” He asked with a smile, pulling her off the couch by the hand, giving her another messy kiss. They stumbled through the hallway, y/n dragging him in her bedroom and closing the door behind them. Let’s just say she was very glad Mary had left for the night.

“Dean. I have something to ask you.” Y/n muttered, her hands on his chest. “Ask away.” He whispered. “Can you bring me back with you? To the future? When you’re going. Please Dean. It sounds so lovely. I can live with you and get a job and I won’t have to dress up as a man…” she asked him. “I - I’ll have to think about it.” Dean said after a while. To be honest, Dean had already fallen for y/n. But he didn’t want to bring her into his life. It sucked, she had so much to live for back here. She smiled and hovered over him, her hair messily framing her face. She kissed him again, before curling backup beside him. “I’ll think about it..” he whispered, holding her close to him. He had to make a choice. Did he really want to let her go?

#dean x reader #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester x you #dean x y/n #dean x you #spn fanfic #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fanfic #spn fanfiction #sam winchester #castiel #spn #supernatural

[slothcritic]

Dragon Ball Z Abridged - Episode 9 Review

Consistently funny. The weak points do not drag this episode down.

The Set Up begins with a great cold open. Piccolo is drop-dead unconscious on the ground, Gohan is desperately trying to wake him up, and Krillin is anxiously awaiting for Goku to show up. After all, he’s their friend who would never let them down right? Meanwhile... Goku is busy eating at Jadoshin's palace. Even as a departure from the original series, I like the idea that the two of them made up and are friends now. Jadoshin, however, has to remind Goku about the Saiyans. Goku then runs out in a panic.

[Title Sequence]

Piccolo isn't getting up and Nappa needs a new toy. He chooses Gohan seemingly at random from the two remaining, and floors him in one kick.

"Wooo! Not me!"

When Krillin isn't being the resident Milhouse, he's the rimshot comedian. The joy doesn't last for much longer though, as Gohan stays down.

Nappa is about to tear Krillin a new one, when the bald monk suddenly screams out that it's his turn. And for some glorious reason, this actually works on Nappa. This is some straight up Looney Tunes, "Duck Season, Fire!" type tomfoolery.

Vegeta does not handle Nappa's stupidity very well, and in his anger does a fourth wall break where he references a timestamp in the video. This is kind of clever and a bit of a break from the other fourth wall jokes that they've done so far, but I feel like it could lose its charm if it's done more than once. As for the timestamp itself, which is at 9:18 in the video... we'll get to that later.

Krillin decides to use the Destructo-Kienzan, and Vegeta shouts a warning to Nappa that it's a trick.

"But Vegeta... tricks are for kids."

The tense background music just completely stops here, but you can still hear the vibrations of the kienzan in the background. Great sound design. The long pause afterwards is also well timed, and Vegeta takes up the "fuck it, you wanna die, then die." mentality with Nappa. This skit is succinct, well paced and well editied.

Nappa receives a deep cut to the face for his troubles, as it just nearly takes his head off. Nappa laments his modeling career, and the scene cuts to a photoshopped rendition of Nappa on Vogue magazine. The bald, beautiful Saiyan, and his 10 tips on being a better lover!

This might have been a joke before its time, or perhaps the intention was different while writing this in 2009, but Nappa shows us all what a "nice guy" he was trying to be during all of this, and now decides "okay, full ultra-violence it is!" and fades Krillin with a white sparkly angel dust attack. I'm sure it has an actual cool sounding name (Like "Galaxy Breaker" or something) but I'm going to keep calling it the white sparkly angel dust attack. The owned counter ticks up to 8 here, but it doesn't feel deserved.

Piccolo jumps up with an "I'm back" and shoots Nappa... in the back. He sees what you did there. Just as Piccolo and Nappa are about to throw down, Gohan appears out of nowhere and roundhouse kicks him through a boulder. More indication that Gohan has some incredible hidden power inside of him. This surprises Piccolo, and Gohan is initially apologetic, but Piccolo begs for him to stay angry before Nappa just as quickly hops back to his feet.

It turns out Gohan hit Nappa so hard that he turned Italian. Seems a little out of left field, but why not. The "I'm a firing my laser" reference is perhaps the most dated thing I've seen since Episode 1. Would this even count as a meme? Wasn't "Firin Mah Laser" something that came out before the word meme even became popular as a way of describing internet fads, jokes, templates and trends? Back when Demotivational Posters and I Can Haz Cheeseburger ruled the internet? Truthfully, I loved this joke when it came out, but now all it does is remind me of the proto-internet days. And part of me feels weird for being nostalgic about that, because I just know someone in their 30's is going to read this and roll their eyes saying "Oh God, I'm getting old", in much the same way I'll feel horrified when people start to become nostalgic for Fortnite in the next 10 or 20 years.

Back to the episode, Piccolo's sacrifice happens right about here, and the scene does a good job of pointing out a plot contrivance in the source material. Piccolo could have just grabbed Gohan and moved out of the way. Though the scene plays up the amount of time Piccolo had to work with, there was still nothing stopping him from just grabbing him and chucking him like a bag of potatoes out of the way, even in the original. However, if Piccolo doesn't die, there's no real reason to go to Namek. What I think might be a more practical reason is that, this is a turning point for Piccolo as a character where he starts thinking emotionally. It's no real secret across both the canon and the abridged material that Piccolo is actually a pretty decent parent. So this right here is the idea of Piccolo more or less abandoning rational thought and considered only protecting Gohan. That contrasts a little with the ruthless, methodical, cunning, intelligent character he's been shown to be, just to throw that all away to save him, but the contrivance definitely becomes less egregious when you consider these factors.

However you want to address it, then end result is that Piccolo sacrifices himself to protect Gohan. In the original this is capped off with Piccolo comparing Gohan to his son, which is what Gohan begins to explain before Piccolo calls him a nerd. In this series however, Piccolo laments one final time:

"Why... didn't you... DODGE!!!"

Bleh. And with Piccolo's death, Kami is soon to follow. He explains the Namekian Dragon Balls to Mr Popo, and the long (very long) journey that must be undertook in order to revive everyone, but Mr Popo outright refuses and simply reminds Kami of the pecking order. Kami dies, and thus the Dragon Balls become inert.

Back at the battlefield, Vegeta was busy reading an issue of that very same Vogue magazine with Nappa on the cover and thus didn't see him kill Piccolo, like a mother three sangria's deep at her kid's soccer practice.

I've never much cared for Gohan's exasperated expletives in this or any scene in DBZA. This one in particular doesn't sit well with me simply because they went to the effort of being purposefully verbose but then still chose to use the word "condom" over "contraceptive" - A condom is made of latex, whereas a contraceptive is any kind of device at all that prevents pregnancy. As an example, some of the first contraceptives in history were made from linen and animal intestines, while the condom itself wasn't invented until 1855. Gohan specifically saying he's going to use Nappa's intestines as a condom serves the same purpose either way, but “contraceptive” would’ve been more technically accurate, in a bit of dialogue that is purposefully trying to be technically accurate. I wouldn't be picking on the semantics so much if that weren't the express purpose of this entire scene. Also it has more syllables and therefore sounds more smarterer.

Nappa gives this scene the backhand and the "bitch please" it deserves and we're done with that.

"Everyone important to you is dead." "Hey I'm still alive--" "EVERYONE important." "...Damn it."

See, this is where the Krillin Owned count should have gone up.

After Nappa doesn't smash, Goku appears on the battlefield. His reaction to showing up too late and everyone being dead is uncharacteristically deadpan, and it's hilarious. He asks where Chiaotzu is, and Krillin gives him the Achmed the Dead Terrorist explanation. Over there, over there, and up there. I'm not actually sure if this episode predates Jeff Dunham or not, but I enjoy both, both used the same joke at least once, and both make me laugh so I'm drawing the comparison anyways.

Goku asks why everyone is dead and Nappa immediately and without hesitation calls dibs. This leads into one of most famous and iconic scenes, if only for meme reasons, in all of DBZ.

"Vegeta, what does the scouter say about his power level?" "It's... 1006." "Wha-- Really?" "Yeah. Kick his ass, Nappa!"

Not gonna lie, this genuinely made me burst into laughter the first time I saw it. I don't know if it was just shock value or what, but it doesn't have the same effect now that I know it's coming every time I rewatch this episode. I just love the idea of the scouter being upside-down and Vegeta not questioning it. An even better headcanon is that the scouter was never upside-down, Vegeta was just getting tired of Nappa's bullshit and just decided to send him into an ass-kicking anyways.

We're treated to a solid 15 seconds of Nappa getting completely curbstomped while the various characters look on in shock and awe, until Nappa gets dumped at Vegeta's feet.

It's also here that Vegeta finally learns that Piccolo's life is directly intertwined with the Dragon Balls. I believe this was already established in the original series, but no such conversation ever occurred here. Vegeta has quite simply lost his chance at immortality and it’s all because of Nappa.

I actually wonder how an immortal Saiyan would work. They receive a Zenkai boost, which makes them stronger when they almost die, but if you can't ever die, you can't ever “almost” die either, so you wouldn't get the Zenkai boost and your power wouldn't increase that way. Then again, most expectations of logic or consistency within Dragon Ball are pretty much always doomed.

Speaking of doomed, remember that timestamp at 9:18 that Vegeta referenced earlier? Because Vegeta certainly does, and with both the camel’s and Nappa's back having officially been broken, Nappa is sent to the shadow realm in a blinding flash of light and a massive explosion.

Vegeta's smirk is all we needed to close out this episode. There is no stinger.

Conclusion

Really good episode, actually. I wouldn't consider it as strong as Episode 7, but it definitely holds the same energy throughout. There are more high quality comedic moments in this episode than I could count on both hands. At worst some of the dialogue was uninteresting, pointless or overproduced, but the average pace of this episode rests rather highly compared to its valleys.

Microphone quality and sound mixing on some pieces of dialogue is still meh. Krillin's first line in this episode peaks the audio or something similar, because it takes me out for a hot second just because it's so sudden and emphatic.

We also see a slight evolution in the dynamic between Vegeta and Nappa which keeps things fresh. This is becoming less of a deadpan snarker and over the top clown, treads more into the ticking time bomb territory which is great for slowly building tension, and not unjustly as it has a satisfying payoff.

Plot holes in the original are addressed and lampooned here, creative jokes such as the Vogue Nappa and “1006″ are present and accounted for, and on the whole there's a lot of very on the mark humor, and only some of it is overdone. The story for this episode also holds significant weight and momentum, and it all blends together quite well with an above-average script and some great visual and audio edits.

Score: 77

Passing Thoughts

"Riiiiiicola!" - Oh hey, it's this again.

"Oh and I totally killed that guy. Oh well, at least we still had fun getting here, right Vegeta? Vegeta? Remember the bug planet? Vegeta? Vegeta? Vegeta? Vegeta? Vegeta? Vegeta? Vege-- AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!"

#slothcritic #DBZ #Dragon Ball Z Abridged #TFS #teamfourstar

[hxveidoneenough]

Not Expecting That (Connor Murphy x Reader) Pt. 3

Prompt: Part three of my PregnantReader!xConnor Murphy

WC: I didn’t keep track and I'm too lazy to do it now....

Warning: Cursing, Connor is out of character, lots of small time skips idk really anymore. not editied because I wrote this super quickly to get it out by this morning

A/N: Should I do a part 4?? I think I'm gonna

it’s was 12:03 on a Friday night when your water broke. You were laying in bed, sleeping peacefully, when you felt a gush of liquid soak your bed sheets and the pants you were wearing. Your eyes shot open as you pulled the cover back, glancing down at the wet spot.

“Fucking hell..” You mumbled out quietly as you glanced over at the time. A groan passed your lips as you slowly got out of bed, pushing yourself up. As you headed towards the door, the first real contraction you felt hit you. You stopped walking, grabbing onto the dresser by the door as you took a deep breath, wincing slightly.

After the pain subsided, you made your way down to Heidi’s room. You knocked a few times, and after a few seconds, the door opened. Heidi tilted her head at you, but you gave her a small smile.

“Either I peed myself, or my water broke,” You mumbled out quietly as her eyes went wide. She instantly turned around and started to gather her stuff.

“Go wake up Evan, have him take your stuff out to the car,” Heidi said and you nodded as you wobbled towards Evans room. You knocked a few times before just entering the room, knowing that Evan was a particularly deep sleeper. You walked over to his bed and shook his shoulders a few times, causing his to mumbled out something incoherent before jumping awake.

“Jesus, (Y/N),” Evan started, his hand placed over his heart. “You s-scared me half to death.” He said.

“I’m sorry,” You said, pausing your sentence as another contraction moved through your body. You gripped onto Evans beside table, taking in a deep breath in and letting it out shakily.

“I-I, uh, are you okay?” Evan asked and you took a few moments to reply as you nodded.

“My water broke. Can you take my bags out to the car please? I need to go sit down,” You said and you swore Evans eyes nearly popped out of his head as he jumped out of his bed and stumbled to get into your bedroom. You laughed quietly as you slowly made your way down the stairs and outside to the car. You got into the passenger seat, your hands placed gently on the lower half of your stomach.

“You could have yanno, waited until the morning?” You mumbled quietly, leaning your head back with your eyes closed. You felt the car shift as Heidi and Evan climbed into the car. You didn’t bother to open your eyes as you were taken to the hospital, keeping your hand on your thigh to squeeze it through the pain of a contraction.

It wasn’t until you got to the hospital that you realized that you had left your phone at home and had yet to tell Connor that your water had broken. As Heidi parked the car, you glanced back at Evan and gave him a sheepish smile.

“Can you uh, call Connor and go pick him up? I may have forgotten my phone at home.”

Evan nodded his head quickly as the two of you slowly got out of the car. Heidi walked over to you, handing the keys to her son before heading towards the door of the hospital with you. Once in the hospital, Heidi walked up the desk and informed the nurse of your current situation.

The lady behind the desk got up, grabbed a wheel chair that was kept near the desk and walked over to you. She popped the chair open for you and you slowly lowered yourself into it. Your hands were placed on your stomach as you were pushed back to the maternity ward.

//

You had changed into a hospital gown with multiple thing attached to your stomach to monitor the baby and IV’s going in your arms to make sure you had the fluids you needed when Connor finally arrived. Your hospital door was opened quickly, and in the doorway stood a lanky, panting, sweaty Connor Murphy. He was dressed in a pair of dark grey sweatpants and had his black jacket on his arms. The shoes on his feet were not tied, and you were pretty sure that they were not matches. But, you couldn’t help the smile on your lips at the man.

“Holy fuck, are you okay?” Connor asked as he walked across the room. You nodded your head slightly as you glanced up at him.

“Yeah I’m go-” You started, but a contraction cut you off as you took a deep breath, gripping onto the bar of the hospital bed. Connors eyes widened in panic at you, moving to sit down in the chair beside of your bed. He sat there, staring at you until the contraction lessened and you let the shaky breath out.

“Yeah, I’m good,” You finished, “Contractions, not fun.” You laughed quietly. Connor shook his head slightly, chuckling under his breath. He pulled his shoulder length hair back, putting it up into a bun on top of his head to get the sweaty mess out of his face.

“Do you uh, know how much longer?” Connor asked quietly.

“The doctor said that I’m about 6cm, and you have to get up to 10 before anything can really start. So, I honestly don’t know how much longer this will be. Could be a few more minutes, could be a few hours.” You said, shrugging your shoulders slightly. Connor nodded his head slightly as he leaned his head down against the bed, sighing quietly.

You knew that he was nervous, so you decided not to push at him and make him hold a conversation with you right now. Instead, you leaned your head back against the pillows behind of you, closing your eyes.

//

A few hours had gone by, and your contractions were a lot closer together. You were currently laying on your side, your hand wrapped tightly around Connors. A few tears were rolling down you face as you squeezed Connors hand as tightly as you could.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck'" You mumbled quietly, an Connor continued to slowly rib small circles on your hand, ignoring the pain that was shooting through his hand from how hard you were squeezing it. “Oh my fucking god, I hate this,” You mumbled out.

Connor sighed quietly as he looked at you. With most people, Connor felt nothing but anger and hatred when he saw them. But, when he saw you, he felt what he could only manage up to being love. And seeing you in pain, was definitely not something that Connor Murphy enjoyed, especially when he couldn’t do anything to make you feel better. He just continued to rub small circles with his thumb inside of saying anything, so that he wouldn’t make you angry.

The doctor came in a few moments later, having you roll onto your back so that she could check you. You placed your legs in the stirrups and the doctor sat down on her stool, before looking back up at you.

“Well, (Y/N), it seems that baby murphy is finally ready to make an appearance. So, I’m going to go grab the nurses and all the things we’ll need, and we’ll get started,” She said as she exited the room. Evan and Heidi were sitting in the hallway ever since your contractions got really bad and Connor had asked them to sit out in the nicest way he could.

Connor pushed your hair off of your forehead, a small smile on his lip as he looked down at you. You glanced up at him and laughed quietly.

“Thank you for uh, being here.” You mumbled quietly and Connor tilted his head to the side.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I uh, I don’t know. It’s just that we were barely even friends when this happened, and you never once gave a second thought to being here... I’m just glad is all.”

Connor nodded his head at you with a small smile on his face, “Of course, (Y/N). I know that there are all those rumors that I’m crazy, and some kind of freak. And they’re probably not that far off, but, I care about you. I care about her. I’m going to do whatever I can to show you both that.”

“You care about me?” You asked softly.

“Of course, I, uh, I lo-” He was cut off by the doctor reentering the room with a couple of nurses. You were still positioned in the stirrups so your doctor just continued to set everything up.

//

Your hand was wrapped tightly around Connors, squeezing it as tightly as you could, surprised you had yet to snap his hand. He didn’t complain though, he knew that you were hurting and he was more than happy to be in pain if it meant for a even a moment that you were able to relieve some of your pain.

Pushing had lasted about an hour before cries filled the hospital room. You laid back against the bed, tears trailing down your face as you glanced over at Connor, and then down at the baby that was placed on your chest.

She was still messy, screaming at the top of her lungs with a head full of dark hair. The doctor handed Connor a pair of scissors, helping to cut the chord where it needed to be cut. After that, they took you daughter, Arabella, to be cleaned off.

Connor leaned his head down on yours, kissing the side of your face gently as he did. “Goddammit, I love you.” Connor whispered quietly, and you looked up at him with tear stained cheeks and titled your head to the side.

“Really?” You whispered quietly, staring up at him. He nodded his head, a small smile on his face.

“Of course I do.” He said and you couldn’t help the fact that more tears were rolling down your face as you placed your hand on the side of his face.

“I love you too.” You whispered.

//

It was about an hour later when the nurses brought Arabella back to the room. You were asleep, curled up slightly in the bed and Connor was sitting beside of your bed. When the door opened and the nurse rolled in the small bed the baby was in, Connor smiled slightly. He wasn’t used to being this happy, or smiling this much in the slightest, but he figured it was the post polite thing he could do in this moment.

“Hello, Mr. Murphy,” The nurse said, smiling as she stopped rolling the bed in front of him, “Would you like to hold her?”

Connor glanced at the small bundle in the bed, a pink hat covering her dark hair and he slowly nodded. “Yeah uh, yeah I would.” Connor said and the nurse smiled as she showed Connor how to hold his arm, and cleaned off his hands before she lifted the baby up and placed it in his arms.

“Make sure you keep her head up and her neck still, okay?” The nurse said and Connor nodded his head, “I’ll be back in a little bit to get her, but for now, have fun bonding.”

The nurse smiled as she left the room, leaving Connor to sit with his little dark haired girl in his arms. He had her held close against his chest, the arm that he wasn’t cradling her with was placed near her face as he traced her chubby cheeks slowly with his finger.

He was amazed, to say the least, that he had made something so perfect. She had rosy cheeks that were fairly chubby, his nose and your eye shape. Her lips were incredibly tiny, but suited her little face perfectly. Connor couldn’t find a single thing that would have been slightly wrong with the little girl. His little girl.

Connor Murphy wasn’t someone who was good at love. But you had changed that when you two first became friends and then you gave him Arabella and he didn’t physically believe that he could love anything more than you two in that moment.

#Connor murphy #connor murphy imagine #connor murphy deh #Connor murphy fic #Connor Murphy hc #connor murphy drabble #dear evan hansen #dear evan hansen fic #dear evan hansen imagine #evan hansen #evan Hansen fic #jared kleinman #jared kleinmen imagine #writing #my writing #my fic #fic #drabble #headcannon

[beatricethecat2]

if/then - 7

I've been fussing over the mechanics of the next few chapters for a while now, figuring out when and where to drop clues, as some pushback will happen in the upcoming arc. I apologize for the lack of Helena in this chapter, but she'll reappear, fully formed, in chapter 8. Also, I admit I know nothing about Italian, so I hope the little I've dotted into this isn't horribly wrong. This is still clunky, but I'd rather put it out and move forward than get stuck on form. (editied 8/18).

Previously: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6

Read first if you are new! gutted/sorted and wax/wane…if/then is a continuation of those two.

//////////////////////

“Nothing so far is even remotely what Mrs. Frederic’s looking for.”

Myka’s annoyed, both at the man sitting in front of her and her clusterfuck of a morning, which began the minute she stepped foot in Italy.

“Scusa?” the man says as his overly smiley face droops beyond that of a practiced salesman.

“This is what I’m here to see.” Myka sets down her expresso then taps her tablet awake and slides the device across the table.

Myka stretches her neck as the man flicks through inventory then rubs the bridge of her nose in hopes of minimizing the headache she’s had since landing. Clearly, her lack of sleep is catching up with her, yet she doesn’t regret that promises of “later” were fulfilled, rather pleasantly, once her application was complete. Hence she downs the rest of her coffee and considers ordering another; if she has to wait while this guy compares their notes, she might as well be over-caffeinated.

She curses herself for believing him when he'd insisted everything was in order as she sees him now for what he is: a kid. His baby face hides under his short, sharp beard and his spotted bow tie and pocket square try a little too hard to be professional. He’s probably an intern recently promoted to sales, the only one free to meet her at such short notice.

She feels genuinely bad for Floriana, the woman she was meant to meet, as this morning her son was hit by a motorcycle on his way to school. He’s ok, they’ve learned recently, no broken bones or anything, but the painful reality of a child being hurt must be overwhelming. If that had been Christina—her heart races at the thought—Helena would be inconsolable; she’d hop on a plane and sneak into the country just to be by her side.

As she sips her empty expresso, she considers the fact she’s never worried over a child like that and imagines Helena’s day to day worry must be tenfold. She kind of checked out when she got to London, allowing work and Helena to envelop her; she assumed Christina’d be fine since responsible adults were there to care for her. She should really check in unprompted and send some photos, tonight from the hotel...

“Signora Bering,” the man says, “this is not what Signora Stukowski has given me.” He points to her tablet and hands over his.

As Myka flips through inventory, her nostrils flare: wrong period, wrong category, wrong everything. “When did you get this?”

“Questa mattina. You were in the air.” He points his eyes upward.

Myka breathes in a deep, cleansing breath and closes her eyes, telling herself to stay calm. Of course, Sally sent the wrong files, because if Sally could, she would. It’s happened before, and it's happening again. In fact, she’s beginning to think she does it on purpose just to trip her up. But this time around it doesn't make any sense. Sally needs this client to stay on Mrs. Frederic’s good side; Myka has the advantage of the private sale.

But it is possible Mrs. Frederic changed the roster last minute, while she was in the air. And while she’s checked her messages a million times, Sally's not the most communicative; she could have easily sent the files assuming Myka was already in the loop.

“Let me call Sally,” Myka says, whipping out her phone and scrolling through to her number. When the line goes straight to voicemail, she tries the front desk and learns the entire staff's in an impromptu meeting with Mrs. Frederic. No one's sure when it will end.

“Fortuna?” the man asks as Myka sets her phone on the table.

“No,” Myka says, shaking her head. She looks down at his tablet and flicks through a few pages. “Could we continue with these and see my list later?”

As he flips through Myka's images, the man's cheeks puff out comically as he slowly blows out a breath.

“I'll try Sally again later.”

“Si,” he says, nodding his head slowly as he stares at the device. “We can do."

“Grazie,” Myka says, with genuine apology: it’s not his fault they’ll be working overtime. “Let me buy you another coffee. And some lunch,” she adds, eyes wandering behind him, towards the counter.

The man looks over his shoulder and smiles at the menu on the wall. “Si, si, manga,” he says, “Let us ‘regroup,' Signora Bering.”

“Myka,” she says. “Call me, Myka."

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

As she stretches to her full-length on the bed, her muscles groan in relief, their release from gravity long overdue. She and Maritzo managed to view everything on both lists but didn’t finish until well after dinner. In the end, she's glad he was her guide and knows she's lucky he was young was eager to please.

Sally, when reached, confirmed Myka’s list was correct, but there was little apology in her apology over the confusion. If she had the energy, she’d have been angry, but she knew it wasn't worth her time. If this private sale works out, she most likely won’t be working with Sally any longer. In fact, Mrs. Frederic emailed her today, asking, tentatively, if she’d represent the gallery in the pre-sale showing, details to be discussed upon her arrival back in London.

The thought occurs to her she needs to go over her newest “anonymous source” email but admits to herself she’s wiped; it will have to wait until morning. She peels herself off the bed and showers, then texts Helena good night and is out like a light before Helena has a chance to respond.

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

Though they’ve met once before and emailed frequently, Myka's nerves surge as she enters Theodora’s gallery, as she’s learned Theodora’s not your average widowed retiree. Her anonymous source clued her into some history: back in the day, Theodora and her husband rubbed elbows with both Mrs. Frederic and James Macpherson, chasing down impossible finds like the one she’s been researching.

Theodora's space is intimate and classically European, boasting elaborate white moldings and intricate parquet floors. The front room is filled with contemporary sculpture she recognizes from Vanessa’s roster, while the back holds unique curated treasures. As she passes through to the office, she walks up to a lectern where an illuminated manuscript sits. It’s in pristine condition, which is unusual for its age, and she wonders where a self-proclaimed “humble gallerist” might stumble upon such a rare find.

She’s put at ease by Theodora’s warm welcome, and when their business is tied up sooner the expected, Theodora insists she stay for lunch. Myka’s flight isn’t until three, so gladly accepts and truthfully, she’d like to get to know Theodora better.

After a short walk down a picturesque cobblestone street, she's soon sipping wine in a charming outdoor cafe, listening intently as Theodora waxes poetic about the old days when she was partnered with Mrs. Frederic.

“What was she like back then?” Myka asks.

“The same as she is now,” Theodora answers and motions to the waiter for more wine. “Always pushing the envelope."

“I’ve only met her once. In her office. It was pretty formal.”

“I’ll tell you this: her intentions are always above board, but not everything goes to plan.” Theodora swirls the wine in her glass, studying it as it spins, then tilts her head back, downing the last swig.

“She likes you,” she says, pointing her newly empty glass at Myka.

“She does?”

“She wouldn’t have sent you here otherwise. And I’m sure she already has you working on something special.”

The waiter returns with a fresh bottle of wine and fills both glasses. Myka watches the liquid pour with reservations, already feeling tipsy.

“I think I even know what she’s got you on if the rumors are true. Henry and I chased it years ago, but never found hard proof it existed."

Myka opens her mouth to answer but hesitates; as a confidante of Mrs. Frederic, she should be able to tell Theodora what she’s researching, but it could be a test, to see what it would take to loosen her tongue.

“Oh, it’s hush-hush, I know, no need to fret. It’s just…”

Theodora stares at Myka as if sizing her up. Myka wonders if she wants to hear what she has to say.

“I seem to recall you have a daughter.”

“I, uh...." Not where Myka thought this conversation was going, but it's interesting she remembers her mentioning Christina. "Christina’s Helena’s daughter, not mine. Helena's my…girlfriend." Partner is the correct word here, and she knows it, but if Theodora knows what the private sale is for, she may very well know of Helena’s connection to Macpherson. It might be best to stay a step back until she learns where Theodora is going with this.

“Ah, yes. Now I remember,” Theodora says, siping her wine. “She’s in London because of a visa ’situation.' She and her daughter are why you’re doing all of this. Correct?”

Myka slides her hands off the table and clasps them together on her lap. How much does Theodora know beyond what she’s told her? Maybe she needs to be careful with what she says.

“Um...yeah.”

“Remember that, as you make decisions moving forward.”

“Remember what?”

“Your motivations.”

“I’m not sure I follow.”

That very moment, their food arrives. Theodora thanks the waiter then turns her attentions back to Myka.

“Do you love her?” she says, pointing her fork at Myka before tucking into her meal.

“More than anything.”

“And her daughter?”

“Of course.”

“Then remember, the most important thing in life to nurture is family. Family's what’s left when everything else falls flat.”

“Why would everything fall flat?” If Theodora knows something about this sale or Helena that she doesn’t, she wants to know.

Theodora sets down her fork and straightens her posture, then dabs the corner of her mouth with a napkin. “Henry and I did what you’re doing for a lot of years. When we had our kids, it complicated things. We both wanted them, but neither of us was ready to settle down. So we compromised by taking turns, one of us staying with the kids while the other was in the field.”

Does she think Helena’s still working? She must know that’s impossible after the trial. “Do you regret not settling down?”

“I regret not spending more time with the kids and Henry together. Especially when they were little.”

Myka looks on, still confused.

“How old is Helena's Christina?"

“Eight. Eight and a half if you ask her in person.” Myka smiles at the memory of the day Christina told her about her birthday. They were filling out the calendar with Helena’s schedule, but the calendar only went through December, so she wrote out the months following on the last page.

“I know you’re just starting out, and you're excited about your projects, but let me give you a piece of advice. When you’re with Helena and Christina, try to live in the moment, take stock of what you have. It seems silly at your age; you always think they’ll be time later, then suddenly, there’s no time at all.”

Theodora’s gaze drifts off into the distance, and her eyes glass over. Myka reaches across the table and places her hand on top of Theodora’s.

“A-Are you ok?"

“I'm fine," Theodora says, with a small sniff. “When the melancholy kicks in, I tend to babble; another reason why I keep to myself these days.”

“You miss him.”

“Most days.”

Henry must linger in Theodora's memories like Helena's family does in hers.

“Thank you, for the advice. I appreciate it.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll all be fine. I forget times have changed, with technology and all.”

Theodora slides her hand from underneath Myka’s and places it on top, then squeezes it slightly. Myka smiles at the gesture.

“I'll tell you, Irene only pushes those she deems worthy, but she’ll push until they break. Make sure you push back before that happens."

“I will,” Myka says, nodding as she slides her hand back across the table. She fingers the stem of her glass and takes a generous sip, wishing she felt more flattered than worried by Theodora’s words.

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

Her concentration’s a bust on the plane back to London; emails left unanswered as Theodora’s words swirl through her head.

Her warnings were overkill, weren’t they? As she said, she's just starting out, trying to fix what’s broken. If she looks at things logically, Helena rescued her in her time of need, and she’s returning the favor, though the stakes are higher now since they’re together. But four or five months of rocky coupledom does not add up to a family, per se, not in the sense Theodora was describing.

In fact, the word “family” leaves a sour taste in her mouth; she'd turned her nose up at the notion with Sam; having more important things to accomplish before settling down. She's aware the word is a trigger as babies and marriage were always Tracy’s domain; she’d roll her eyes when Tracy incessantly talked about both when they were teenagers. But as the oldest, she’d been expected to tie the knot first, expected to produce; luckily that bullet was dodged by Tracy taking the lead, lessening the pressure on her.

But “family” is the best word to describe Helena, Christina, and Claudia, and when applied to them it warms her heart. She’s proud to have joined them along their journey. She smiles at the memory of Christina’s drawing, scribbled in crayon, still hanging on the fridge, depicting her holding hands with Helena. Even at that early stage, she was welcomed with open arms into their fold.

And while she trails behind Claudia in the responsibility department, that dynamic will change when she, Helena and Christina live together. Once their situation stabilizes, everyone’s roles will shift towards the traditional. Is she really ready for that? She's not sure.

She’s been so focused on getting to London she hasn’t thought much about what happens after. Theodora must have seen glimmers of her own lack of vision in Myka, of starting a family but never fully embracing change. She should heed her advice and learn work with it, not fight against it. Easier said than done, but she vows to take Theodora’s words to heart.

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

After a quick stop to freshen up, Myka speeds off to her work mixer, coincidentally located at the same restaurant Helena had scrambled to get reservations earlier. This seemed odd to her, out of all the restaurants in London, but Helena assured her it was a popular choice with the “in" crowd.

The table is packed when she arrives, with a mass cheer rising as she approaches; it’s clear everyone’s been letting loose. When all eyes move behind her then forward to meet her own, she’s hit with a wave of awkwardness. Helena's expected to have tagged along tonight, but she's clearly not present.

She apologizes for Helena’s absence, explaining she didn’t know until she stepped off the plane Helena had to work last minute. Everyone’s been eager to meet her "black sheep” girlfriend since the day Helena met Mrs. Frederic and emerged unscathed. In fact, Helena’s reputation has even tinged Myka with an air of mystique around the office, which she thinks is quite amusing.

A coworker motions for her to sit next to them, saying they’ve saved her a seat and she does as instructed. Her heart sinks at the sight of Helena’s empty spot next to her; disappointed Helena chose to work over her. She knows sacrifices must be made to keep the weekend free for Christina and Claudia, but she was really looking forward to introducing Helena to the group, both to put an end to the rumors and to show Helena off.

Wine flows freely during every course of the meal, and as the table fills with stories and laughter, she leans back and takes stock, recognizing a lightness in her chest she hasn’t felt for ages. She’s having a really good time with these people, an even mix of folks older and younger than her, and is pleased the discussion stays on topics unrelated to kids and school. The evening feels like coworker gatherings in Chicago and Seattle, and it’s reaffirming to be reminded of who she was all those years ago on her own.

As the woman sitting next to her checks her phone, Myka stiffens as she asks the time. Helena begged her to meet for a nightcap at the bar to make up for missing dinner and Myka reluctantly agreed, but at this rate, it will close before she gets there.

“Sorry, I have to go,” she says, rising so abruptly her chair nearly topples backward. “I’ll see everyone tomorrow."

-TBC-

#BERING AND WELLS #w13 #fanfiction #if/then #AU Week #Sometimes when you have too much on your plate #you have to 'relax' by doing other things #things that are still work #but work you are doing for yourself #so you stay up too late #to knock out a chapter of fanfiction #(for the 2 people still reading #hopefully the next chapter will be up sooner rather than later #it actually already written in full #but needs shaping)

[joshuabeck1001]

Why Peter Pevensie Struggles in “Prince Caspian”

(Previously published on my old blog, the GEEK BELIEVER. This version has been editied.)

I watch a ton of of movies. Like, seriously, a ton. I watch them, I rewatch them. I study them. I read too much into them. I know way too much about them. But sometimes, I see something more in them. I see a message in them.

The movie I’d like to talk about today is Prince Caspian. Of course, being a C.S. Lewis story, it isn't hard to find Biblical subtext, as the series was built on Biblical allegory. But that only means that I don't have to search hard for something to talk about. And, of course, this isn't a current movie by any regard; the Narnia movies have pretty much been forgotten at this point, and Prince Caspian itself was never considered the high point of the franchise. And, to be honest, Caspian was never my favorite of the series. But, to be fair, I have always watched this franchise as I watch all of my favorite fantasies, from Harry Potter to The Lord of the Rings, with my magic filter on; I watch them as fantasies. I watch them for fantastical stories of magic and adventure. And compared to the adventures of Harry and Frodo, Narnia was just never quite as good (even though The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe being one of my favorite books as a child). But despite all that, I got the hankering to watch them again, and when I watched Caspian I noticed something that I hadn't before.

If I had to say why Caspian is the weakest part of the series, I would have to say it is the absence of God in that story. In comparison, Wardrobe and Dawn Treader have a lot more of God/Aslan, especially the former, telling a version of Christ's sacrifice for mankind. But God, and Aslan, are noticeably absent in Prince Caspian, for the majority of the film. And it was this, subconsciously, that made me dislike the middle movie a little, why it became my least favorite of the series. But rewatching it this time (and I actually watched it twice this time) I began picking up on the subtle undertones of the narrative; it was intentionally written for Aslan to be absent. It is, in my opinion, one of the most powerful allegories in the series, because of this.

Let's look at Lucy and Peter. Lucy, in the series, is the steadfast believer. She never questions Aslan, she never doubts him or anything she experiences in Narnia. Peter, along with his brother and sister, always questions, always doubts. When our heroes arrive in Narnia, they are met with a very different Narnia than the one they left behind. Over a hundred years has passed. Their old castle is in ruins, a new power rules the land, and the Narnians are all but gone. As they try to find their way through this unrecognizable world, they try to follow a remembered path, but find that the bridge they seek has long since collapsed, making their way impassable. It is then that Lucy, looking to the other side of the river, exclaims that she saw Aslan. But when everyone looks, they see nothing. Peter Dinklage even remarks "Do you see him now?" in his condescending, Peter Dinklage-y tone.

But the moment that really struck me was Peter's response. Peter, High King of Narnia, has a bit of an ego on him this entire movie. He even introduced himself to Dinklage's Trumpkin as "Peter the Magnificent", much to the amusement of his siblings. But at this moment, Peter asks Lucy why he didn't see Aslan. "Why wouldn't I have seen him?" Why wouldn't Aslan, the creater of Narnia, present himself to the High King of Narnia?

"Maybe you weren't looking." That's Lucy's response. And that line works well enough in the context of the scene; Peter wasn't looking in the same direction as Lucy when she saw Aslan. But this one line sets up the tone for the rest of the film. Peter didn't see Aslan, because he isn't looking for Aslan. He isn't seeking him. If Aslan wants Peter, Aslan should come to him.

Lucy, the unwavering believer in these films, knows Aslan is always near, and is fervently looking for him, waiting for him, seeking him. Peter, on the other hand, is trekking through Narnia as if he owns the place (which, technically, he does, as Aslan said in the previous movie, “Once a king or queen of Narnia, always a king or queen of Narnia,” meaning whenever these children pop up, they are automatically the highest authority, under Aslan). Peter is blinded by his own desires, noble as they might be, to notice if Aslan is nearby.

It is in this scene that Peter makes the decision to go his own way instead of Aslan’s. Faced with a chasm that they seemingly cannot cross, when Lucy see’s Aslan on the other side, she tells them that Aslan wants them to follow him. But Peter didn’t see Aslan, Peter doesn’t believe (this entire franchise would move a lot faster if people believed Lucy when she said something), and Peter decides to lead them in another direction. And, sure enough, several minutes later, they realize that there was a hidden path to lead them safely across the gorge. If only Peter had followed Aslan, despite not seeing him.

This theme carries throughout the movie. In a later moment, Lucy has to remind Peter who actually defeated the White Witch, him, or Aslan. And as they rush into battle, Peter shouts a rallying cry, “For Narnia!” And even this line screams of Peter’s growing disconnection from Aslan, for in the previous movie, the same call he made was, “For Narnia! And for Aslan!” Even when I first saw Prince Caspian in theaters, I remember that the lack of Aslan’s name at this moment stood out to me, even if all the other Biblical subtext didn’t. And that’s Peter’s problem throughout the entire movie: He’s trying to do everything by himself, and he’s not looking to Aslan, or for Aslan, for guidance.

This resonates in our lives. If we try to do everything ourselves, without God, we fail more often than we succeed. If we live our lives not seeking God, not looking for Him, we will never hear Him speak, and we will never see His path for us. So many people wonder why God isn’t affecting their lives, why they can’t see proof of God’s existence, of His power, His miracles. And that’s because they are waiting for God to show Himself to them. They aren’t seeking Him out.

Just like Aslan, God wants us to follow Him. He wants us to seek Him out, to see Him, to hear Him.

But in order to see God’s presence, in order to hear Him speak to us, we need to actively seek Him. We need to be looking for Him. If we aren’t looking, how can we see Him when he appears? If we aren’t listening, how can we hear Him when he speaks?

As one of my friends recently put it, if you don’t pick up the phone, how will you hear who’s talking? If we don’t pursue God, how will we find Him?

If you aren’t seeing God in your life, is it because He’s not there? Because He’s abandoned you? Or because you aren’t looking for Him, seeking His will?

And just because we don’t see Him, or we don’t hear Him, doesn’t mean we shouldn’t follow Him. Even if all we hear is silence, we should strive to follow God, no matter what, without question. It is only when we question, when we take a step back, when we choose not to follow Him, but go our own path, that we stumble and fall.

Think of God like a job. If you need a new job, do you sit on your couch and wait for someone to call you and say you’re hired? Or do you go out and apply for jobs and have interviews? Think of God like dinner. Do you sit at the table and wait for food to just appear? Or do you get up and prepare the food, or go out to a restaurant? The point is, there is work to it. God won’t just show up in our lives. We need to work to seek Him, to find Him, to listen to Him, to obey Him. We can’t be passive Christians. Being a follower of Christ is an active sport. We need to look for Him.

Peter finally sees the need to seek out Aslan instead of waiting for Aslan to come to him. After trying to do everything on his own, resulting in disaster. There’s a scene midway through the movie where several characters trick Caspian into summoning the White Witch to fight King Miraz. Caspian almost succumbs, but not before Peter knocks him out of the way. Peter, seeing the White Witch reaching for him from a wall of ice (acting as a portal for her spirit to reenter Narnia), almost loses himself and considers freeing her, seeing no hope in the battle they are about to be forced into, and seeing her as possibly his last hope. But she is thwarted, and the ice is shattered, and behind it, looking down on Peter, is a stone carving of Aslan himself.

It is only in this moment that Peter realizes the need for Aslan, and begins seeking Aslan, sending his sisters to find him while they attempt to hold off the opposing army. It is at this moment that the tables turn in favor of Peter. It is only here that he begins to succeed.

Only when we seek God will we have victory.

Peter is also a warning. It isn’t enough that we seek God and follow Him. Peter is a prime example of how Christians can lead people astray, if they aren’t following God. When Peter says “I think it’s up to us, now,” all of the siblings, including a reluctant Lucy, go along with him, instead of holding steadfast in their trust of Aslan. We have to be careful, as Christians, to make sure we are setting a good example for others, believers and non-believers alike. We cannot lead those who look to us astray, even if our intentions are good.

I love this franchise. I’ve read a few of the books, and I’ve watched all of the movies. Oddly enough, before I watched Prince Caspian the other day, it was my least favorite in the series. After rewatching all three movies, I can honestly say it is my favorite one, because it spoke to me, it spoke to what I am going through right now.

I am currently in the middle of some sort of resurgence of my faith. I’ve been reading a Bible study focusing on hearing God’s voice, on seeking him out. That I had the urge to watch Prince Caspian out of the blue, despite knowing it was my least favorite, and it having a message that fell directly in line with what I’m learning in the Bible, is no coincidence. It is God, speaking to me. I am starting to look for him, and He is starting to appear to me. In the movies I watch, in the books I read, in the conversations I have. When we seek God, everything falls in line. It is truly amazing.

Trust me, I am still struggling. And life is a struggle, a constant fight against the temptations of sin and the Devil, not unlike the temptations of the White Witch. And it is only through a closeness, a dialogue with Christ that we can fight it and win. Otherwise the struggle will consume us, and we will lose more than we gain.

“Why wouldn’t I have seen him?” “Maybe you weren’t looking.”

Look for God, and you will find Him. It’s that simple. Don’t expect God to come to you when He wants you. You have to want Him, you have to look for Him. Being a believer is not a spectator sport. Seek Him, in all that you do.

Fun Fact: The writers of the three Narnia movies, Christopher Markus and Stephen McFeely, also wrote another famous trilogy of movies, Captain America, the third (and best) of which, Civil War, is now on Blu-Ray.

Extra Tidbit: One of my other favorite moments in this franchise is in Voyage of the Dawn Treader, when they reach the shores of Aslan’s Country. Aslan tells Lucy and Edmund that this is the last time they will be in Narnia. Lucy asks if they will ever see him again in our world, to which Aslan replies, “Yes. But there I have another name. You must learn to know me by that name. This was the very reason why you were brought to Narnia, that by knowing me here for a little, you may know me better there.”

#narnia #c.s. lewis #prince caspian #the lion the witch and the wardrobe #aslan #peter pevensie #lucy pevensie #god #jesus #bible

[lostinthemindofageek]

Facebook Group Update and other stuff.

I decided to not disband the facebook group for the show. It was my creation after all. I even made the other co-hosts admins, even though the group is really small and probably doesn’t need more than me as admin. I recently went through a small bout of drama. I personally don’t think I’m at fault as what people decide to do is beyond my control. I can only take responsibility for the actions I do. But here is my explanation of why some of you noticed a new admin, and friend requests from that person. In a matter of speaking, over the last 4-5 years, I’ve lost some people as friends. Some of them have even become “enemies” (if you wish to call it that) But a few months ago I made a simple statement on my twitter only to find that I was being monitored and stalked by someone who I used to be friends with. I used to be a admin for a group for one the most prolific english anime voice actors. For a time it was an honour to be an admin, but down the line I became obsessed and was starting to go down a path that was possessive and dark. It was only through the help of family and a few of my friends that I woke up and realized I was going some place I didn’t want to. And if I had continued down that path I would become something I absolutely loathed and hated. Shortly after that around the beginning of 2015, there was an incident when I removed several members of the group without confirming with the voice actor (Monica Rial if you were wondering) The reason I had removed them without consulting her, was mostly because they were going against the rules we had created. And after trying to communicate with them several ties via posts they continued to do what we told them not to. I even tried to contact them directly via messager only to find that I couldn’t for some strange unknown reason. And lets face it the founder and Monica are hard to get a hold of sometimes. So rather than let it continue, I just took action instead of waiting. I kicked them out and didn’t let them back in. I did this for several people, until it came back that they complained directly to monica herself. I was in a test situation at the time of this and felt that if bitching to her is all it’s gonna take to get you back in the group to doing what you’re not supposed to I didn’t want to be a part of that, no matter how much I like Monica. So i just said fuck it and left. I did go back several times, but the group was not the same. A strike system was established via Monica, but I felt that really doesn’t work. Also the group seemed to be an asskissing magnet more than anything else. I left and rejoined several times, before one of the admins banned me. I can only see the posts of the group via Monica’s website or via someone else’s facebook account. I don’t question who did it, because I have a pretty good idea who it was that banned me. But eventually being away from it helped me realize that i didn’t need it. And I made a statement on my twitter saying it was good to not be a social media admin, That was until a friend of mind notified me that I was being watched and monitored. It honestly creeped me out when I found out that this person had been watching my every move from a year before since I left. Of course it didn’t really change what I did much. I didn’t bring up the past so much, and no one really comments or likes what i post on my facebook page so often. Then I found an editied photo of the character Satania from Gabriel Dropout. She was holding up a paper that said “Fuck You” on it. I posted this on my facebook page with the caption “to my observers, Have a Nice Day!” along with the Fuck you Emoticon. Within a few hours that same person made a rage post on his own facebook page saying I needed to get a life, I was a terrible admin whatever you can think of. I found out via my friend of his reaction, as well as several other who saw the rage post. As it turns out I was made a topic of conversation even before I posted that, on one of my other posts. It was mainly the fact that I’ve been monitored for just over 2 years and that this person refuses to let go. I could easily go and look and retaliate but that would just be doing exactly what this person is doing. It’s true that we all have things we wish we could change when we couldn’t. The grown up thing is to let it be and let it go and move on. But this person clearly has had trouble getting past that. While the chance of meeting this person face to face would be next to zero, I don’t feel secure knowing that I’ve been monitored by this person and his friends for over 2 years. Therefore I decided to create my other facebook account using my alias name, and close the other one so that he won’t be able to monitor me let alone find me. I do this also so potential employers won’t look at my facebook. It takes about 14 days before everything is deleted from facebook. I’ll wait maybe a period of double that before I do any real adjusting and putting my “real name” out there again. That includes customizing it to my liking. This also includes all of my other social media accounts, including twitter, and instagram. I could just as easily block people so they don’t see anything. But to me blocking shows you are weak, and can’t handle it. I’d only use blocking as an absolute last resort. To those who feel like I’m going paranoid...maybe you’re right. To those who have accepted what has happened and understood, I thank you for putting up with the changes. I know I make it difficult sometimes for people to like me or even take me seriously. I don’t intend to do any of those things to make your life difficult. If you got this far thank you for taking the time to read this. I feel a lot better now that I have got this all written down. Now I just like to talk about cool stuff and the good that will come in the future.

#sorry for the rant