Cal & Misha Blog Takeover

We are planning to contact the BASILISK party attendees who won “door prizes” personally by email sometime next week. We will also announce it all here, but first, by email. Also, we are planning to reveal the DOUBLETAKE sneak preview to ALL who participated sometime next week. We’d originally intended on announcing it all this week, but… Misha & Cal decided to take their blog invasion to Rob’s house after their AAA meeting. WHEW. Need I say more? As if nursing a fluffernut-and-Three-Musketeers hangover from OUR party wasn’t enough to contend with. Hope you all had as much of a blast as we did! If you want to go back and look through ALL the entries, click here. Happy Friday! -Jayda

Cal: “Time to get the hell out of here before I do shoot you,” I grumbled, dropped the purple stained apron to the floor, and grabbed my jacket. “I’m going home, apologizing to my brother, doing my and his laundry both and then I’m not leaving the apartment for six months. If it’s the only way to be sure I don’t end up half dying and then waitressing for a hundred days when I recover, then that’s what I’ll do.” Was the Misha guy worried? Of course not, the bastard. “I’ll be fine,” he dismissed. “Maybe I’ll build a personal force field, one that repels bullets, out-of-control trucks, and collapsing buildings. Any project that keeps me away from building...

Misha: Cal looked morose and guilt-stricken over causing his brother all that anguish. Fortunately, besides getting kidnapped at the age of seven…theoretically and it wouldn’t be my fault anyway no matter the theory or reality of it…I didn’t cause my brother any anguish. I dug a fluffernut sandwich out of my bag, a little squashed from the C4, and opened the plastic. “He does need some work, Miss Terrwyn. Between all the maiming, moping, and pretending to be a monster…” I shook my head and took a bite of the sandwich, chewed and swallowed. “Ruffles. He wore ruffles. And he has a pair of leopard spotted furry handcuffs. He’ll lie and say they belong to someone else, but who...

Cal: He’d given me a bigger bratwurst, he wasn’t afraid of me, he actually was excited I was a monster. I’d almost grown not to loathe him…which for me is willing to die for someone. Now I changed my mind. “A waitress?” Misha repeated, looking at his bag full of C4 and my autograph as if suddenly the last one wasn’t as valuable as he thought. “Hold on there, sugar. I have proof. Miss Terrwyn always backs up her word.” She gave him a bit of a smile. I had a feeling it was something most ladies did—part of the genetic experimentation. You just wanted to like the kid. Even if he didn’t deserve it. Waitress. Like that had...

The first ever meeting of AAA Astoundingly Annoying Anonymous Misha: “You’re really a monster? I mean I definitely can detect the non-human, but monster? That is the shit. Did I use that right? ‘That is the shit’? I’m having a difficult time with that. Never mind. You’re a monster?” I eased my messenger bag to the floor, crouched beside it, opened it and dug out a pen and piece of paper. “Can I have your autograph?” Cal, I hoped it wasn’t short for Calvin—Calvin isn’t a good name for a monster, eyebrows lifted, mouth dropped open slightly, head shook lightly as if he couldn’t believe it. “You want my autograph? Most monsters piss at the sight of me and...

Cal: I hated him. I didn’t have a problem hating people younger than me. So he was nineteen at best. I hated him and right now I was hating Niko and Robin for drugging me and dumping me here. They kept on and on about interventions and meetings and blah blah. Then Goodfellow gave me a beer and I wake up handcuffed and worse. Then I try gating out of the restraints, which I hadn’t tried before, and end up gating out of everything, naked in front of some guy who was twirling a pair of Robin’s furry handcuffs around his finger and smiling and it damn sure wasn’t a sympathetic smile. It wasn’t a mean smile either, but…shit…more...

Misha: New York was a good place to hide. Lots of people, but I still preferred hiding in small towns. Bad guys…ummm…badder guys than Stefan and me were easier to spot and doing a background check on everyone including the town pet moose, Mickey…Mickey the Moose—I named him. That wasn’t exactly pertinent to the situation, but I did have a file on him regarding him kicking an overweight mailman the next town over and destroying twenty-five garbage cans in search of food that tasted better than grass. It seemed logical to me. I’d rather have a Big Mac than a mouthful of chlorophyll.