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chaniters · 5 years

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Cellmates

Awan and Elyise have time to talk, as they seek to escape their cell.

Part 13 of @kruk-art‘s Awan Cormac’s fic, and the longest thing I’ve written so far. The end is nigh though.

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“Are you awake?!” A voice says to your left.

You turn lightly, to notice Elyise chained to the ceiling, her feet dangling over the ground.

Looking up you realize you are similarly restrained, and that you are dangling just as she is.

“ARE YOU AWAKE?” she insists.

“I think I am” you state.

“About time” she grumbles.

“What’s going on…?” you asks just an instant before your mind decides to reboot and provide all the missing memories. “Oh. Reaper is a jerk.” Your suit seems to be still on, and there’s a pair of burn marks where Reaper shot you. So this is where you ended up it seems.

“Precisely.” she nods.

“He got you too?” you ask rather calmly. By your standards, being suspended is pretty tame… unlike the farm’s numerous pressure tests.

“No, I just came to stretch my arms… OF COURSE, HE GOT ME TOO, GENIUS!!” she states dangling to the side furiously.

“Ugh, don’t yell, my head’s killing me”

“He’s the one who’s gonna kill us if we don’t do something”

“Relax. If he wanted us dead we wouldn’t be even talking up here”

“RELAX? You want me to relax?!”

“I’m the one who should be mad, you’re darn liar, remember? What the fuck is your deal, Elyise?”

“My deal? Getting out alive is my deal, always!”

“You worked for Hollow Ground, you had links with the Loanshark and then you helped Reaper? What side are you on?!”

“I’m on my own side ok?. Someone has to be,”

“You could have mentioned that YOU HELPED KILL HOOD!”

Oh, that struck a chord. She turns to you, angrily.

“Do you think it was my idea? I don’t know what you heard, but I was FORCED to help in that.”

“You could’ve said NO!”

“Because that was a great choice for me, right? If I hadn’t helped Hollow Ground would have thrown me out for mom to find. She had precogs in her little cult. Wouldn’t have lasted a day on my own”

“You also helped Reaper murder a ton of people just to keep your secret!”

“Those people? They’re SCUM! And I don’t know if you noticed but everyone in their right mind approved of what Catastrofiend did”

“So if you’re so happy about it, then why aren’t you helping Reaper anymore?!”

“BECAUSE HE WASN’T SUPPOSED TO HURT YOU GUYS, OK? I DONT KNOW WHY HE DID THAT! HE SHOULD HAVE TOLD CATASTROFIEND TO LEAVE WHEN YOU SHOWED UP. I QUESTIONED HIM AFTER OUR CHAT, AND HERE I AM!”

“Hurting us, huh? That’s what bothered you? What about, oh I don’t know DATING CHARGE for example? Did someone force you to do that too?!

“I knew this was about it! You never liked me around him! I saw how you looked at us!”

“That’s not...”

“Admit it already!” You’re definitely NEVER going to admit something like that.

“You know he worshipped Hood, and you’re accessory to his murder! Don’t you think he had at least the right to know about something like that?!”

“...” she starts to say something, but her voice breaks and she looks away. You won the argument, clearly.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought!” you say annoyed, looking at the binds. Maybe you can find some way to get out and leave her here.

“...I just wanted to be normal, ok?” she says after a while, turning back at you.

“Normal?”

“He talked to me about so many things… And he listened… And I… I had never been with anyone before… and he was so darn nice I just… I just wanted to be happy”

“Don’t. Just don’t! Don’t you dare... No.. don’t you… crap” you say looking at her teary eyes.

It’s not the physical crying that does it but the inner mess of emotions. It actually shuts you up, mainly because you understand where she’s coming from all too well.

Are you just being one big hypocrite?

You escaped the farm to kill someone in the first place.

Shit, she’s making it harder to hate her.

“What?” she says as you fall silent “aren’t you going to go on about how am I a total piece of shit?”

“... No…” you grumble

Silence. Only interrupted by the clinking of the chains.

If only you could walk out of the room and have some time to think about it… But no. You have to return to reality.

Realty being you’ve both been captured by a skull-faced homicidal maniac

“Listen… I assume you’ve tried to get us out with your telekinesis?”

“I did. There’s some sort of security system that prevents it.

“Can you show me?”

She nods slowly

“This cell gets even funnier when I try that” You can sense her concentrating and….

The walls start shinning in bright blue, the room filling with static, followed by a deafening booming sound from every side, stronger. She screams something… and then you’re screaming something too… so loud…

Until it all dies out, your ears still ringing echoes of it.

“Ugh, this is a nasty one… Sonic pain inducers” you yell.

“WHAT?” she yells back, still half-deaf.

Probably on par with some of the Farm’s tests. Just your luck, Awan, you say to yourself.

A console lights up on the far end, with Charon’s logo on it…

“For the fourth time Prisoners, I advise you not to attempts that again. This room can be electrically magnetized and will counter any telekinetic attempt to escape. It is also equipped with sound blasting technology that will castigate unruly behavior.” The console shuts down soon after the last word is said.

“Shit!” you say

“I know. Do you have any skills to escape something like this?”

You study the binds. They seem simple chains and manacles and you’ve got nothing to pick the lock with. THere’s no other mind than Elyise’s close enough for you to reach either.

“Nope”

“Then we’re royally fucked” she states.

“Indeed” you sigh.

“Distract Charon. I will try to send a telepathic message to the rangers” you send the words into her mind so Charon won’t overhear. She seems startled, but nods in silence.

You start clearing your mind for the task at hand. Never attempted communication at this range, and there’s no guarantee that it would work at all even if you had been practising. It doesn’t help that there are millions of people in Los Diablos and you want to find a single mind.

Piece of cake, Awan.

________A few hours later._______________

Your arms hurt like hell from dangling and you’ve lost track of time, but you’re not giving up, repeating the message over and over… impossible to tell if you are being heard or not.

“HEY CHARON!” She yells. Elyise has been doing a superb job of distracting the AI. You wish she wasn’t that good because it distracts you as well.

The screen turns on, and the display comes online once more. If AI’s had human personalities you would say Charon is surprisingly gossipy. He probably doesn’t get many people to chat with since the Defenders Society disbanded.

“What? I’ve already told you I’m not going to let you go”

“Just wanted to ask you when did Reaper decide he wanted to kill all those drug-dealers”

“Whatever do you mean? Master has killed drug-dealers many times in the past.”

“Oh c’mon! He hasn’t killed anyone in almost a decade!”

“It’s true… he took a long hiatus after retiring from the crime-fighting life. His focus fell almost entirely upon charity projects after his cancer got worse”

“Was it hard, overcoming it?”

“He did not overcome it.

“What do you mean? He told everyone he was doing great!”

“That was a lie he repeated many times. His doctors gave him months to live and he dismissed them. And then the Hauswald foundation burned down, sending him into a deep depression”

“What?” you interrupt. Elyise gives you an angry look, her mind telling you to focus on your own thing. She’s right�� back to send your signal.

“Months to live? Is he dying? I saw him standing up earlier!”

“He was dying, right until he wasn’t. My research into the subject he brought in changed everything!”

You can barely hear what they’re saying… you’re picking up something… something getting closer...

“You mean my mother?”

“Affirmative. The subject possessed impressive regenerative properties never seen before on a boost. I theorized that a series of transfusions could heal him by making his own tissues more competitive than the cancer-cells”

It’s clear now. Someone picked up your message and is very close to Reaper’s complex…

“He has… my mother’s blood?”

“Indeed. He was reluctant, thus I had to administer it hidden in his medication.”

“You… gave it to him without him knowing?!”

“Indeed. I would do anything to preserve my master.”

“Aren’t there secondary effects?”

“Oh yes. Many in fact. I discovered most of them after the third transfusion took place”

“What side effects?!”

“Psychological mostly. Sharp aggression increases, self-restraint, almost nullified. Morality ambiguity and…”

Someone’s walking up to the Manor’s gate… with a vengeance. You sense some sort of fight taking place.

“I am sorry. Someone’s being rather rude at the main gate. We can finish this conversation later” the screen says before turning off.

“Did you get someone?” she asks

“I think so?”

“Who?”

“I’m not really sure… I think it’s…”

The sound of fighting interrupts you, along with blaring sirens.

There is only one presence in the complex asides from her, and it doesn’t take you long to figure out who.

“It’s Anathema!” you say. “They’re fighting a lot of security drones”

“about time we got some good luck. Guide them to us?!”

It’s not hard to send Anathema a signal they can follow. They’re used to working with you.

Finally, you can hear the noise coming up to your cell, with gunshots and skittering of metallic legs and the sizzling of acid.

“CEASE AND DESIST INTRUDER! THIS IS PRIVATE PROPERTY AND YOU ARE TRESPASSING!”

“I’ll give you trespassing and then some, you dumb toasters!”

“GET AWAY FROM THE PREMISES!”

“Will you shut up already? I can’t hear my own thoughts and I think I’m getting some that are not even mine…”

“Get out before you are hurt human!”

“Hurt? You know your spider-things can’t hurt me! I’ve gone through three dozens of them already!”

“Losses are meaningless. I have an immense reserve of combat drones!”

“And I have like the worst case of reflux in mankind’s history, so give me a break will you?” he sounds like he’s just in front of you now…

“HERE! WE’RE IN HERE!” You shout out, with Elyise joining you.

“About time! I thought I was going mad with all the talking toasters”

The door starts smoking and dissolving under the acid shower from the other side.

Soon, Anathema steps in, looking up at the two of you.

“Oh, so you’re doing some stretching up in here?” he jokes, looking relieved.

“Very funny” you answer.

“Yeah, hilarious” Elyise adds

“Oh c’mon, It was a good one-liner!” he grins looking up at the chains. “Now how do I get you out without dripping acid on your hair…”

“Can you deal with that box on the corner?” Elyise says looking down at it.

“Can do” Annie states, letting a few drops off at it. Always amazes you, how it goes through almost anything.

Elyise inhales deeply and puts her powers in motions, both sets of chains bursting open to pieces. She floats gently to the ground…. While you land less gracefully.

“Ouch,” Anathema says helping you.

“My poor arms” Elyise complains, stretching some. Yours do too, but you’re a bit more used to this kind of stuff.

“How long have we been here?” you ask.

“A day and a half? I realized something was wrong when you didn’t come back… But I expected you were behind it all” Annie says looking at Elyise. “No offense”.

“I do get that sometimes…” she sighs

“It’s not her Annie. It was Reaper all along”

“R… Reaper? Are you for real?”

“Afraid so…”

“RETURN THE PRISONERS AND SURRENDER!” Charon’s voice reaches from afar, the sound of metal legs coming in closer.

“Ahh crazy computers, love me. Ok, you two stay behind me, and don’t step on the acid, ok?” he says grinning.

The way out is plagued with spider terror drones but they are simply no match for Anathema, who marches you to the exit without a hitch. You find your gun on the way out along with the data rod. Elyise gives you a terrifyed look as you take it, but you don’t say a word about it to Annie.

Not yet, at least.

___________________________________________

My Fanfics: https://chaniters.tumblr.com/post/181692759294/my-fanfiction-for-fallen-hero

DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fan fiction using characters and the setting of the Fallen Hero: Rebirth and upcoming Fallen Hero: Retribution games written by Malin Riden. I do not claim ownership of any characters from the Fallen Hero wold. These stories are a work of my imagination, and I do not ascribe them to the official story canon. These works are intended for entertainment outside the official storyline owned by the author. I am not profiting financially from the creation of these stories, and thank the author for her wonderful game/s, without which these works would not exist.

#fallen hero: rebirth #Fanfiction #Sidestep #Elyise #Anathema

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creamypudding · 5 years

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WIP Clack sneak peek

Hi,

I’ve decided to upload a sneak peek of my WIP Clack story. I’m currently on writing chapter 8 and I think the story might have 10 chapters, so I’m sort of nearing the end mark, but also still a fair way off completion because a lot of editing needs to be done. I’m currently re-reading everything that I’ve written so far to get my head around the timeline, which I had no clue about when I first started writing it, so now I’m making minor adjustments (read: major edits) to the previous chapters before moving on to chapter 8. It’s my form of procrastination because chapter 8 is a POV change, which is notoriously difficult on my soul. So, while there is no guarantee that this chapter 1 will look exactly like this when I get to posting the whole story, it should still be a very close approximation once I’m done with everything. I am happy to share this bit and hope to pique your interest in this AU. This story will explore mental health issues, like PTSD and body dysphoria. The main setting is in a hospital, so set expectations accordingly. Title: Silver Lining (working title) Chapter: 1 Fandom: FFVII - Modern AU Pairing: Cloud/Zack Rated: Teen Word Count: 10,232 Summary: Cloud is a delivery driver and one day gets a very specific job to complete, which sends him to the brink of discomfort, but leaves the door open for something very wonderful to potentially bloom.

CHAPTER 1 - Despite the winter sun being at its low-hanging apex, and this region never getting any snow, it was still cold. The frosty air gnawed and bit into the tip of Cloud’s nose, blasted against and stiffened his glove-covered fingers, and caused shivers to wrack his body. Winter wasn’t the best time of year to ride his motorcycle, but his passion for his vehicle outweighed the seasonal discomfort. He was as rugged up as he could be with his helmet and scarf underneath, multiple shirts, and a sweater under his riding jacket, and thermals under the leather pants to keep his lower limbs warm, yet Cloud looked forward to arriving at work, which he usually did around midday, where he would hop into the familiar white and blue delivery van with its air conditioner, funky smell, worn leather seating, and sticky patches all over the dashboard caused by spilled coffee.

He lived about half an hours ride from work and arrived at the two-story brick warehouse in a business district of the sprawling metropolis. He rode around the back of the large, empty lot, to the garage capable of housing five vans and parked his bike near the wall. He left his helmet hanging on the handlebars and headed through the lofty loading zone, past the only vehicle still reminding (his own) and to the door and into the heated office space beyond. With a relieved sigh he pulled his gloves off and rubbed them together to regain feeling and warmth.

Tifa gave the usual teasing greeting of, "Hello, Cloud. Sleep well?" which forced a grumbled unintelligible retort from him. He headed straight for the left side of the sparsely decorated rectangular room. A long, mid-chest high cupboard stood along the wall with five color-coded plastic double-letter trays atop of it. This was their duty roster system. The top tray houses his schedule for the day, and the bottom one held his payslips and things of that nature. A large whiteboard hung on the wall right above the cupboard with each employee’s details demarcated to line up with their specific letter-trays.

He grabbed his sheet of paper, listing addresses and delivery times, and stalked off to the van, grabbing the held out travel mug which Tifa had filled with hot coffee. “Thanks,” he muttered while she smiled at him with amusement. Cloud counted his blessings that Tifa was understanding of his late starts to the day and his sporadic-yet-far-too-common absences.

Cloud sank into his familiar seat, leaving the bright pink folder on his lap and cradled his mug. It warmed his icy hands and as he slowly sipped the liquid it gave him the energy to recuperate from the arduous task of having woken up this morning and gotten himself out of bed. He skimmed over his list of jobs for the day at a casual pace, set his GPS and then headed off to get his workday underway.

His day consisted of a sizeable amount of pick-ups and drop-offs. Small and large parcels and goods alike. Usually, he’d radio Gavin or Therone to see if he could get more jobs, but today he felt extra drained so just stuck to what was on his sheet. He drove to familiar businesses and places, and some new locations. One of these was somewhat out of the way. Cloud took a left turn onto the freeway and headed out of the metropolitan area. The scenery grew ever more rural and then downright quaint; cows and horses dotted fields, small bakeries and one-pump gas stations came and went.

The road, though no less busy, lacked maintenance and pot-holes great and small peppered it. The place he was after was on the main road and turned out to be a giant greenhouse. He pulled into the large expansive gravel forecourt, and to his surprise found the car park almost completely full. People came and went, carrying gardening equipment and flowers of all sorts of shapes and colors. He pulled into a parking space, and got out, heading for the large glass structure. For being so out-of-the-way of the major population centers, it sure was bustling.

As Cloud entered through a set of glazed double doors, and then another set of automated sliding doors to get into the building proper, he was instantly accosted by the perfuming fragrant smell of flowers, as well as a very comfortable warmth. Winter didn’t touch this botanist’s wet dream and it almost felt tropical. Cloud sneezed. Repeatedly.

He was reminded that flowers weren’t his friends, though he could still appreciate the botanical marvel he found himself in. Flowers and plants of all shapes, sizes, species, and colors grew absolutely everywhere. A lot were set in pots, but an equal number were also growing seemingly right from out of the soiled and mulched ground. It smelled like earth and damp. Not a wholly unpleasant smell. It's just the flowers that got Cloud sniffling like crazy.

He still sneezed when a friendly voice sounded next to him, “Here. My flowers have that effect on some people.”

Cloud turned and took the held out tissue with a, “Thanks,” and blew his nose. Once back in control of his body's reflexes he looked at the short-in-stature woman who had spoken to him; her brunette hair was tied in a ponytail, with wavy bangs falling wall past her shoulders. Her eyes, a vibrant green, sparkle and seemed enhanced by the rusty red of her mid-waist length cardigan, which sat over the top of a blue and white striped blouse. Her look of a homey farm-girl was completed by the soiled, three-quarter denim trousers and big brown boots. “Your flowers?' Cloud asked, "Are you the owner?”

The woman grinned brightly and gave a curt nod. She looked around, with a lot of pride. “This place is my life’s work. Growing and cultivating plants of all types has always been my dream. And of course, sharing the joy this life brings with it.” Green eyes returned to settle on Cloud once more.

Cloud thought her rather pretty. He wasn’t sure if it was her features or her passion for her work. Whichever the case, she seemed rather too cheerful. “For a profit though,” he said, not caring to disguise the sardonic tone.

“Well of course. Girl’s gotta eat, right?” she laughed. “Name’s Aerith Gainsborough. Welcome to my greenhouse. How can I help you?”

She stuck out her hand and Cloud took it. “Cloud Strife. I’m here to pick up a delivery,” he said with little expression to his face. Being around jovial people exhausted him. He could already feel his energy draining away and mentally scanned his brain to see if he had passed any coffee shops on the way here.

“Oh, wonderful! I’ve been expecting you. Come this way.” She turned on a dime, her ponytail swinging wildly and marched with a slight bounce to her step.

Cloud followed.

“It’s such awful news what happened to Zack,” she began, rather worriedly. “I absolutely hate not being able to go see him, but I’m flat out here. So many weddings and government ceremonies to plan for. My own delivery guys are all booked up for the next few months, and the hospital is too far away for me to get to on such short notice,” she muttered somewhat defeated.

Despite not knowing what she was talking about, he reveled in seeing some of that cheer strip away from the woman. He possessed an inherent distrust of cheerful people, for cheer was a disguise best reserved for shop-front clerks who wanted to flog you something. It wasn’t for real-life, flesh-and-blood people. Real people had their own shit lives and problems to deal with. That’s what he told himself at least. He had always found it paid off to be wary of the too happy and enthusiastic. He could relate to the woman more in her slightly soured state though. Yet not too much to engage in actual conversation with her.

They made their way into a large shipping container, housed off to the side. This was apparently the office area if the desk with a computer sitting on it, and the various cork boards and whiteboards propped up on portable stands, meant anything. The other thing that Cloud spotted was the very elaborate bouquet sitting on the desk.

“Besides, I’m sure he’ll have far too many visitors for me to be able to spend any quality time with him.” Aerith reached the desk with the bouquet sitting on top of it and came to pause before it. She stretched out an arm as if steadying herself against the table.

The quiet which followed unsettled Cloud somewhat. The bubbly energy seemed depleted.

“Uh, is everything alright?” he tried, merely as a courtesy.

Cloud heard the sniffle, and saw the motion which could only be a wipe at eyes. Aerith turned around, cheeks ruddy and eyes glassy. She gave a weepy smile. “No. It’s not, but I hope it will be very soon. I really wish I could go be with him. He needs someone to look after him.” “I thought you said he was in hospital. Isn’t that—”

“He needs some love. Some care. From people who genuinely care about him. I know the hospital staff do their best, but they’re just staff.” She sniffled some more, grabbed the bouquet and walked it over to Cloud. “If it’s alright with you, I’d like for you to make regular flower deliveries for me. I don’t know if he’s conscious or not, but I want his room to be full of color. I want him to not feel alone. So please bring this to him.” She handed the surprisingly heavy item over. “And I’d also like for you to be my regular delivery guy. I don’t want Zack to have to put up with not getting to know you.”

Cloud grunted and pulled a face. “Getting to know me?”

“Yes. You’ll be my proxy.”

“I'm just a delivery guy. Not an… escort, or… friend for hire,” he said with unease. Cloud definitely hadn’t signed up for this.

“I know that. I'm not asking you to do anything other than deliver my flowers to him. But when you meet him I'm sure you won't be able to avoid having conversations with him.” Aerith’s growing smile faltered, and sadness swept through, robbing her of any mirth which might have burgeoned. “Oh gosh, let him be alright,” she said to no one in particular. “Tifa said it would be alright for you to check in on him regularly and to give me updates when you come to pick up the flowers.”

“Did she now?” Cloud said with derision and barely kept the eye roll at bay.

Aerith nodded and started walking back out into the main building, and Cloud continued to follow.

The pungent smell of flowers accosted Cloud once more as they made their way back to the front of the greenhouse. A sinking feeling grew. “You know Tifa personally?”

“Oh yes. We’ve been friends for years. She’s told me lots about you.” Aerith threw a cheeky smile over her shoulder, back at Cloud.

Without a doubt, this had all been an elaborate set-up. He let a defeated sigh slip out and wondered if this Zack guy was even an actual patient. “More like she complains about me to you.”

“Oh no. Nothing like that.” Her laugh was like the tinkling of bells.

Cloud still knew that it was exactly like that. “Well, she’s never made mention of you,” he sulked.

His remark made Aerith spin around. Her smile radiated ever so brightly. “I’m pretty sure she has and you just never listen to her,” she giggled and gently pushed her palm against his shoulder.

Cloud couldn’t refute that. It seemed like a very reasonable assumption.

“Anyway, can you just wait here a moment. This bouquet is missing something.” Aerith dashed off, leaving Cloud’s nose to develop another irritating tickle.

The pungent flower smells aside, he also knew this whole situation reeked of something, but he didn’t know what. Well, perhaps he did know. Of course Tifa purposefully sent him on this delivery run. She was always trying to get him to be more social and make friends. Something which Cloud had no interest in doing. He thought it cruel to force friendship upon him with some guy who sounded bedridden. And to be fair, he felt it equally awful to force himself onto other people. Cloud hoped that if this Zack guy truly was sick that he would get well soon. That way Cloud wouldn’t have to visit for very long, saving them both the agony of playing at a fake friendship.

Aerith returned holding a few brilliantly vibrant yellow flowers. She stuck them into the bouquet, which mostly consisted of blues and purples.

“There. Some much needed complementary opposites.” She stepped back from her creation and admired it. “I hope he’ll love it.” Worry returned to her face. “I hope he’s okay. Please tell him I’ll visit as soon as I can if he’s awake.” Aerith looked like she was going to say more but clapped her mouth shut and shook her head. “No. I won’t bombard you with any more. Everything I need to tell him is in the card. Please see to it that he receives the flowers, and I look forward to seeing you next time.”

Cloud gave her a courteous nod. “Next time, then.” He knew that no amount of complaining to Tifa would get him off this roster duty. She probably had also talked to everyone else at work to make sure he couldn’t swap delivery duties, that’s how crafty she was.

_____________

The hospital Cloud drove to was a familiar destination. He parked around the loading bay, avoiding the large conglomerate of media stationed out the front of the main entrance. The hustle and bustle out the front of the hospital, though not completely foreign, was still a little strange. Cloud wondered for all of two seconds what famous or newsworthy person had ended up inside before he refocused on his job. He grabbed the bouquet and marched himself inside, making his way to the nurses station, as Aerith apparently hadn’t known the exact location of the recipient of her gift. He had done a fair few deliveries to the different wards in the past, which was why a fair few of the regular staff knew him by sight and gave him acknowledging nods as he passed.

“Oh, those are lovely. Who are they for, darl?” an elderly and a rather plump woman greeted Cloud warmly as he stood by the imposing desk.

“Evening, Barbara.” Cloud didn't have many friends to speak of, but most people he came into somewhat regulate contact with were friendly enough with him, and he reciprocated as much as possible. It's not like he hated people. It had more to do with him being too tired and exhausted most of the time to exert energy into keeping friends around. “They are for a—” he looked at the attached card for the last name. “Zack Fair.”

“Oh. He’s a right popular chap. I wish they would have sent him to a different hospital, to be honest with you. Maybe Golden Oak or Edgewater. That media pack out the front is driving everyone here crazy.”

“What? All those people out there are here for him?” A sinking feeling swept through Cloud. He didn’t deal well with being in the limelight, not even via loose association.

The head nurse gave a sullen nod. “Them out the front aren’t even half of it. Military folks have been in and out of the ICU all day. Day shift have had it up to here,” she gestured well above her head, “with all the kafuffle.”

Barbara’s words caused a rush of irritation to flurry inside of Cloud. He wrinkled his nose. “Military?”

She hummed in the back of her throat and shuffled through some papers at her station. “Mr. Fair is military personnel, or I guess that should be Corporal Fair? Is that how those titles are supposed to work?”

It took everything in Cloud’s power not to dump the flowers and leave. “Don’t they have a military hospital for this kind of stuff?” he grumbled through grit teeth, already knowing that the answer was ‘yes’.

“Apparently it wasn’t good enough for the injuries he’s sustained. He’ll be needing long term care and rehabilitation, and they aren’t cut out for that.”

“Ah—that bad, huh?” Some of the irritation quelled with a wash of sympathy.

Barbara gave a solemn nod. “Here, darl. There has been nothing else on the news all day.” She directed her gaze toward a television mounted on the wall to the right of the desk and turned the volume up a little.

Cloud hadn’t watched the news in what felt like months. It was always too depressing. “They let you watch TV?”

“Only the news channels, so we can be atop of any breaking disasters or crisis as they unfold.”

“Ah. Seems sensible enough.” Cloud turned his attention toward the news coverage. It was a lot of body cam footage from a battlefield. People running, gunfire, all in a vastly ambiguous and completely rubble-filled landscape. Cloud didn’t know which war this was, or where it was. He tried his hardest to not pay attention to things of that nature.

The footage went on. Shaking imagery, snaps of stillness, the bottom of the screen covered in scrolling text. Images of fallen soldiers bombarded the screen, but amongst all of it someone came charging in and pulled the fallen out and to safety. Cloud couldn’t make out what was happening exactly, but he got the idea that it was always the same guy darting in and out of cover, to collect the fallen.

Cloud keyed into the faint sound of the news reporter saying something about bravery and selfless acts of courage.

The footage eventually cut to the outside of a familiar building; Phoenix Dessert Downs; the hospital Cloud was currently in.

“Poor fool got himself riddled with more bullets and shrapnel than all of the other men and women he saved. The field hospital got most of it out, and he’s had more blood transfusions than I’ve ever seen anyone else get, but they can’t give him the long term care he needs. Oh, Cloud. Don’t look so glum.”

Cloud startled somewhat and felt his face return to a more neutral position. “I’ll most likely be coming here often, to deliver flowers to him.”

“He’s got a sweetheart, hmm?” Barbara smiled. “Here, take this pass. It will get you through to ICU and past all the military,” she said, sounding exhausted.

“Military personnel can be a right handful,” he observed and gratefully took the pass.

“It’s what day shift have been complaining about the most,” she sighed deeply.

“Bet they’re glad to hand it over to you and your crew, huh.”

“You know night shift handles pressure and unwanted riff-raff better,” she winked.

“That you do,” he gave a small smile.

Cloud took his leave of the nurses station, feeling exhausted from the exchange, and wandered the halls toward ICU. He observed that there were indeed a lot of military personnel mingling around the halls; mostly camped out at the vending machines, which made Cloud realize just how run down and in need of something caffeinated he felt.

He detoured to a coffee machine and drank the burnt, bitter and old tasting brew with a scowl as he forged ahead. He showed his pass to the appropriate authorities and was let through to the ward.

Evening had fallen, and though the interior was brightly lit, the ward was rather hushed. Nursing staff came and went, tending to all the critical patients. Machines beeped and whirred. Quiet murmurs ran through the place like an electric undercurrent.

Cloud went in the direction he saw the most amount of people, confident that it was the room he was after. He stopped across the way and looked in through the glass windows, which lined the wall facing the ward. He recognized the high ranking officials uniforms. A lot of Sergeants of varying degrees. It was kind of impressive, but it also irritated Cloud. This whole situation was irritating and he didn’t think he’d like to make these flower deliveries a staple thing of his working day if this was what he had to walk into every time..

He finished his coffee, tossed it in the trash, breathed deep, and went into the room to get his delivery sorted.

The buzzing murmur of conversation grew marginally louder as he opened the door and let himself in, but then it ceased in a flash, as all eyes turned onto him.

Cloud hadn’t felt this uncomfortable since his last family get together. He swallowed down the nerves. “Delivery for Zack Fair, from a Miss Gainsborough.”

“Ah, Aerith, the sweet thing. Just put them over there. Zack will be happy to see them if he eventually wakes up,” someone, who appeared to be a Sergeant Major, said to him.

The ‘if’ wasn't lost on Cloud. He gave a curt nod and weaved through the small crowd toward the bed at the center of the room. He could make out a seemingly sleeping figure in the bed. His head was bandaged up and gauze was plastered to his cheek. Wires and tubes were attached all over the man and ran in all manner of directions; some hooked up to monitoring equipment and all kinds of drips filled with clear fluids, but also bags of blood.

Cloud looked for somewhere to put the flowers. Here was a small tray table next to the bed, which was covered in bouquets and cards. More bouquets sat on a chair, and others lined the wall to the left of the bed. Clearly, this guy wouldn’t need any more flowers. He wondered if he could convince Aerith that the hospital room was colorful enough already, and could thus spare himself the trip out here and most of all back here.

He supposed he would have no such luck, and instead busied himself making room on the small tray table for Aerith’s flower arrangement (which, if Cloud had to admit, was one of the nicest in the room). He positioned the card so it would also be seen if this guy ever woke up. Cloud figured himself lucky to get out of conversing with him today. Was it cruel to hope he’d never have to make conversation with this guy?

Probably.

He looked back at the broken man lying in the bed. The bandaged head slumped toward Cloud’s direction and the man’s eyes seemed to be open a small crack.

Cloud looked back toward everyone else in the room, but no one was paying attention; too busy talking about tactical information; what to do about the remaining company and what honors to bestow upon the survivors, because Cloud was apparently not important enough to not talk about that kind of stuff in front of.

Cloud didn’t get what everyone was in here for if it wasn’t to help support a fallen comrade. So he decided that they probably just wanted to feel important and were here for some other self-serving purpose.

He turned back toward Zack and quietly murmured, “From Aerith. She’s worried about you, and is sorry that she can’t be here right now.”

Eyes slipped shut and it was barely visible, but Cloud thought he saw the ghost of a smile.

He turned and left, wondering if it would be a problem that he didn’t get the delivery signed off. He didn’t care enough about it to get one from any of the Sergeants in the room, especially not when he heard a faint, “Does General Strife have a kid?" pass through the gap in the door just as he shut it.

He got out of there as fast as possible, finished his other jobs through fatigue gnawing at him. Tifa asked how his day had been when he came back to delivery the van and invoices. He didn’t give her more than a grunting reply before heading back out, hopping on his bike and racing back home so he could collapse on his bed and sleep.

_____________

Aerith asked for a flower arrangement to be sent every second day, which at least gave Cloud rest in between to not stress about having to be in a wholly unpalatable environment. Despite only passing through and lingering in the place for 20 minutes at most, those were still 20 minutes he would rather never have to endure in the first place. But when he saw Aerith again to pick up the next delivery, her gratitude melted Cloud’s displeasure. His heart grew heavier with each passing day that he couldn’t tell her that the man she was so worried about still hadn’t woken up yet, both for her and himself.

He detested the hospital run. It stressed him out and stress legitimately was no good for him. As the first week of doing this job passed, Cloud could feel himself becoming unwell. He always got sick when he was highly stressed, and going to the hospital was a toxic cocktail of stress for him. It didn’t matter how well he organized himself; going in at 6 o’clock at night when there were fewer media and military sleazeballs lurking about. The late deliveries didn’t let him completely escape run-ins with the military. He took to wearing a baseball cap, pulled down over his face, but he could still feel the lingering eyes and hear the too-loud whispering rumors that he was who they all thought he was and everything that came with that territory.

Each day he heard something else; ‘Did you hear he couldn't even finish basic training?’; in the hallway; ‘Did you hear he got special treatment?’; the elevator; ‘Did you hear his parents pulled strings?’; the coffee station; ‘Did you hear he slept with a General?’; passing the door into the bedridden man’s room; ‘Did you hear he got spoon-fed the entrance exam questions?’.

Each day the well of his resentment grew exponentially deeper.

He tried to ignore, to not hear, to pretend he imagined it all. He went about his job, hurrying in and out of the hospital, sometimes seeking refuge at the hot coffee dispenser to refocus himself and get a caffeine hit to stop him from falling asleep behind the wheel, especially as these hospital visits completely drained him. Cloud hated having to be here. Hated the military. Himself. The bed-ridden source of his misery.

Why, out of all the hospitals in the world and in particular this city, did apparent poster boy have to land in this one? Not that Cloud supposed it mattered much since Tifa somehow knew Aerith and both ladies apparently loved pushing their own agendas onto himself.

He kept doing his assigned job though because Tifa (predictably) had put an embargo on anyone taking or swapping that particular job off Cloud. It did not help his mood or physical health. He could feel the onset of the cold and the day after having been stuck in an elevator with 3 military goons who had recognized him, as he had done basic training with two of them close to a decade ago, he crashed and couldn’t get out of his bed when his alarm went off at 11 in the morning. He couldn’t face another day of doing that job, even though today, most likely, he wouldn’t have to go to the hospital. The weeklong process of going through the hospital halls, seeing uniformed personnel, had completely sapped him of his already minimal pool of energy and it crescendoed today, so he slept the day and the next away.

Tifa rang several times, checking in on Cloud, which he appreciated.

"I'm sorry, am I pushing you too hard? I can reduce your workload to five runs a day."

"Do I still need to cover the hospital?"

Silence greeted him for a few beats, "Is it really stressful for you?"

Cloud felt like such a pathetic weakling. Suddenly a surge of needing to ‘suck it up’ raced through him. "No. I think being around all the sick people is just making me sick. I’ll be okay in another day… I think.”

“Take as long as you need. Felix is doing the hospital runs for now. If you think it would be better for your health not to—” “No, really. I’ll be fine. Just give me back my usual runs when I’m back.”

“Okay.” Cloud hated his strong sense of duty.

_____________

Cloud returned to work and did his best to ignore the people around him. He went even later to the hospital, just to be on the safe side and as much as possible hid behind the flower arrangements he carried, especially when it came to the guard who was stationed at the door. Cloud still felt worn out by the almost daily ordeal but, with a sardonic huff, decided to soldier on.

As the weeks passed, he learned more about his comatose burden through the media. Nothing about the operation he had been involved in though, as that was deemed highly sensitive. He wasn’t one to watch the news, but found himself watching it now, just to get some information, especially when he heard conversations with phrases like 'such a shame’, 'cut down in his prime, ‘it's all too bad’, as he passed by people in the hospital.

He learned about all the honors, achievements, and military pursuits of the spirited young man who now lay unmoving and in a critical condition in a sterile hospital bed with intubators, drips, catheters and various other devices attached to himself. Cloud could appreciate the sadness of it, the tragedy of what had befallen this man, especially since the reports said he had worked tirelessly at saving his comrades and single-handedly kept the squad’s Sergeant alive.

It dawned on him one day while standing there in the empty darkened room, surrounded by the staggering amount of flowers, that it almost felt like he was visiting a crypt. Yet there also sat awe in this place, because he bore witness to this barely-there military man, fighting and struggling for his life, even in this perfect stillness, which was punctured by the rasping breath through the oxygen mask and the soft sound of machinery in the background. The monument of decaying flowers, deflating balloons, knocked over 'get well's cards all spoke of one thing: the love of the people; those he had saved, those who knew him, the general public; they adored him and what he represented. Unwavering spirit, devotion, sacrifice, martyrdom. It was like the flowers were a farewell.

Cloud stared at that physically manifested concept every time he stood in the room, trying to find a place for one more flower arrangement. One more tribute to lay at the foot of the living memorial. It left a sour taste in Cloud’s mouth. He understood that this man had been deemed a 'go-getter’ by his superiors. A real 'people person’ by his peers. Someone who had always joked and make sure all his comrades and anyone under and even above himself had been okay, which was what had made him such a great Corporal—had made him. All those things were now relegated to the past, a memory, a dream. And all for what…. Cloud got stuck on that thought and with pure derision, muttered, “Look where all that love and affection has gotten you. You’re stuck here, all alone, in a room full of dead things. And the public and military can’t even wait for you to be properly dead before turning your room into a grave.” Admittedly Cloud was having a rather glum sort of a pensive day.

He kept delivering flowers, kept watching the news late at night when he couldn’t sleep, despite being utterly physically and mentally exhausted. And he listened on the radio while driving his van. It was never anything terribly meaningful or insightful. All events from the battlefield, reports on casualties, and anything pertaining to the mission which had landed the man Cloud visited on an almost daily basis in the hospital, was barely forthcoming. The operation was still deemed too sensitive and top secret. So all the media could report on was Zack Fair.

Cloud felt somewhat entrapped by the man he had been made to visit. Zack Fair turned into a morbid oddity and curiosity; a form of Stockholm Syndrome perhaps. A trainwreck Cloud was glued to witnessing. He wondered if Zack would ever wake up. He wondered what the man was actually really like. He doubted anyone would ever speak badly of the man or call him out on any asshole-ish behavior while he was in such an in-between life and death state of existence. He couldn’t buy that this guy was so amazing, wonderful, kind, fun. Sure, he sounded nice and like the exact type of person, Cloud avoided in his life. It sounded like a real shame for Corporal Fair to not recover from this. But maybe it also really wasn’t. Who knew? Cloud sure as hell didn’t, and wouldn’t know what the actual reality of the matter was unless the dead rose from his coma.

Cloud tried to not lose any more sleep over it and pushed his wonderings away, focusing on the job at hand, which in the end led him right back to the hospital, standing before his charge, staring down at him, thinking a myriad of conflicting thoughts. In the end, he always decided he didn’t care. He was getting paid. It was just the damn military personnel that got under his skin and made this the worst part of his day. He resented coming here. Hated that the comatose guy didn't just wake up, freeing Cloud of his obligations.

"You're one hell of a selfish son of a bitch," Cloud muttered another day, after having caught a half-heard conversation between the military personnel stationed outside of the door, bemoaning their station over having to watch and guard against media entry. "But keep giving them Hell out there," Cloud finished with a smile, liking the discomfort being inflicted on people who resented having to look after someone who apparently did crazy brave things, like sticking his neck out for other people. Cloud supposed the extra resentment outside might have something to do with a new spate of news that he had caught last night.

"You know you got a bunch of medals? I don't know if anyone's been in to inform you, but… congratulations," Cloud said with bitter amusement as he set the flowers down on the tray table. "You got a Medal of Honor, a Distinguished Service Cross, and a Silver Star Medal. You're one impressive guy, Corporal Fair." He bent down to look Zack in his more-akin-to-dead-than-alive face. His eyes trailed over the bandaged forehead, the patch over his left cheek, the mask covering his nose and mouth to help him breathe.

"Hope it was worth being like this, man." Cloud was greeted with the even breathing, the whirring of machines, and the faint beep of the heart rate monitor.

He stood back up and left the room.

_____________

There came a point, somewhere around the 1-month mark of Cloud having started on his hospital delivery route, that things seemed to change a little. He arrived at the comatose man’s room to find the oxygen mask off and a considerable amount of equipment gone. The mountain of flowers also looked smaller and a more sensible amount. Cloud tested the room with a faint, “Hello?” but received no reply. He went over to the bed, warily inspecting the other man, who looked gaunt and pale, but a lot better for not having all that equipment and tubing attached to himself.

There was no motion, other than an even fall of the chest, and generally speaking, the man looked like he had always done while lying in this bed. Cloud left the flowers and headed out, catching Barbara before leaving.

“How is Zack doing? He’s no longer on the oxygen mask.” “He is doing a lot better, yes. His independent breathing improved so he doesn't need the respirator.” She wasn’t willing to give much more information than that, so Cloud left to return the van and go home to sleep, which came a little easier to him that night.

It was also roughly around the 1-month mark that Cloud began enjoying his trips to the hospital a little, especially on rough days because an almost comatose person couldn't give him any flack for not arriving precisely, to the second, on time. They weren’t going to back-chat or give him the stink-eye. Other than the military being everywhere, Cloud relaxed considerably when coming here every second day. The walk through the hall was uncomfortable but he would grab an awful cup of coffee, hurry to his target’s location, not even be acknowledged by the security anymore as Cloud was as good as the bland decor around the hospital, and dumped the flowers wherever he found space. He then sat down in the uncomfortable guest chair and peacefully drank his burnt coffee.

That routine and place almost became like a sanctuary. Sure, he had to traverse Hell to get to it, but it was pleasant when he got there. He found it nice to not be in a mad rush, nice not having to do small talk. And then two weeks after the respirator had come out, the military finally, for the most part, departed. Things were getting even better for Cloud.

One day, he had been in a frantic rush the entire day due to massive traffic congestions absolutely everywhere he had to get to. Exhausted and starved he grabbed whatever looked least offensive at the hospital cafeteria and made his way to the ICU. Once he had deposited yet another exquisite bouquet, he slumped into the guest chair, which had been cleared of flowers a while ago, and relaxed with a deep sigh.

“God, what a day from hell,” he bemoaned and after a few beats of breathing and quiet, he sat up straight and opened his styrofoam food container.

“I’m sure you don’t mind me eating in here, right?” Cloud glanced at the only other occupant of the room. “I mean, I do bring you all these flowers, and I’m pretty sure I’m the only one who regularly visits. So, if you’re not going to thank me, the least you could afford me is to let me use you like a tray table, huh.”

Cloud looked at the way the body in the bed lay almost lifeless. A steady beating and shallow rise and fall of the chest were the only signs of life.

Taking the prolonged silence as permission, Cloud dug into his meal. Was it strange talking to an unconscious person? It didn’t feel any stranger than talking to himself late at night. It was about as enlightening, but he weirdly enough did enjoy the idea of another set of ears listening, without receiving dumb and pointless input.

“You’re not missing out on much with this food,” Cloud informed as he chewed. “Too dry and rubbery. But food’s food. And bad burnt coffee is still caffeine.” He took a sip, scrunched up his face and placed the cup carefully onto the bed before himself.

He ate the rest of his meal in silence, mulling over his schedule. When he was done he tidied up and got up. “Well, it was fun, Zack. It’s okay if I call you Zack, right? Or you prefer Sergeant Fair? All your new fancy medals aside, you also got a promotion, y’know?” Cloud looked and got no response. “Zack it is then. See ya later.” And with that he left, feeling far more energized after a meal and some liquid energy.

_____________

Cloud kept coming because Aerith kept ordering flower arrangements to be delivered. He lingered ever longer in that room, finding it oddly meditative. Zack's silent company reminded Cloud of his old family dog, and as Cloud sat in the chair, thinking about it, he almost reached over to pay the comatose man's head. He caught himself though and chuckled about it.

He wondered more and more about the man he was tasked with 'keeping company,' for he did keep him company more often than not. With the military gone, bar for a patrol here and there and the occasional door check, the hospital had a far more relaxed atmosphere, and Cloud found himself less drained and ready to crash by the time he got home. He figured if he was going to stay up anyway, he might as well do it whilst in someone's company.

Cloud sat and used this hospital room as his private dining hall, eating evening meals he had picked up from the cafeteria or from a fast food joint outside. He also sometimes checked his phone while he ate, reading articles, playing games. It was nice and quiet, just how he liked it. And while he did these things he also cast glances over to the sleeping man. The glances turned to gazes, where he studied the man's face and the way his chest rose and fell, shallow and at rest.

Sometimes he got stuck in his head, replaying all that he knew of the other man and all he had seen on the TV. It was a peaceful, quiet evening in early spring. He had a tray of hospital food in his lap, his phone in one hand and a spork in the other when the thoughts that bothered him the most fell out of his mouth in a hushed tone, “What kind of food do you like, Zack? Bet the answer isn't hospital food,” he muttered whilst putting another forkful of green mush into his mouth.

Predictably, there was no response.

“I know what school you went to. I know how hard you worked to get to where you were. I vaguely know about the mission you were on when this happened to you—that’s all the news talks about. Well, they also talk about how whatever you were involved with is still highly top secret so the public isn’t allowed to know the specific details of it. It's been nearly 2 months now since you landed here, and who knows how much time you spent in the field hospital before you were brought here. Smells like a cover-up, if you ask me. I hope you’re not gonna be like some scapegoat for them,” that thought riled Cloud up, but he tried to relax and changed the subject, “But anyway, all that stuff in the media doesn’t actually answer the real questions I have, like what’s your favorite color? Why did you think that mullet was a good look for you in high school? Yeah, the news channels love pulling out that photo of you in your yearbook.”

More silence greeted him and Cloud also fell silent again.

He kept his visitations up, he kept asking Zack random things, but got bored of not having anything answered and soon ran out of things he wondered about without repeating himself. So instead, he used Zack as a way to vent his frustrations with work, and some of the people he had to engage with.

“Did you know that Mr. Storgeno wanted all blue cocktail umbrellas? Well, I didn't either, until he opened up the box right in front of me and started complaining about it. Like I packed that box myself and purposefully put green and red umbrellas into the packet, just to spite him. Kinda wish I had,” he finished in a mutter.

He had many more stories to tell about how he—the messenger—got shot, in the proverbial sense. Venting like this made Cloud feel lighter every time he left the hospital at the end of his day.

That was Cloud’s life; struggle to wake in the mornings, struggle to stay awake in the day during work, dealing with pleasant and unpleasant people alike, and then dropping by the hospital on the days it was on his roster, to chill out before going home where he’d have a battle to shut off in order to get a good night’s sleep.

The days and weeks passed. The military continued their stance of keeping quiet to protect national interests, and so, public interest diminished. The media in front of the hospital dwindled, there were no more sensational headlines, and news of Zack Fair faded into the background and complete obscurity as the months Zack spent in hospital turned to 3.

Cloud still caught sight of the occasional military uniform, much to his chagrin. He managed to avoid them mostly, and came and went undetected as Zack’s security didn’t seem very dedicated to their job, especially as the public no longer had any interest in the man stuck in the ICU ward.

It was one unremarkable evening; Cloud had finished all his deliveries, bar one. Exhaustion clung to him, weighing him down. He went to the coffee station on his way to Zack’s room, pulling his hat over his face as he passed the goons, who stood near the coffee station, cups in hands.

“Did ya hear that they’re gonna continue paying him an on-active-duty wage? The guy’s barely alive from what I’ve seen,” grumbled a burly military man into his cup of coffee.

“And here we are, gettin’ paid less than the guy we are here to guard. Just makes ya wanna spit,” the smaller of the two men responded.

“I’ll tell ya what, Biggs, if I were in charge of the budget I’d find better things to spend it on. Why’s he even need all this special attention? Stick him in the public sector. My sister-in-law’s a nurse over at the fifth district. Says they have all the same equipment.” “The big wiggs gotta put on a show. Make it look like they actually give a shit about their employees. Makes for a hella PR stunt.”

“Ya don’t think the whole thing was a setup to begin with, do ya?”

"No clue. They tell us jack shit."

Cloud had enough. He slapped on a lid for his coffee rather violently and spilling nearly half his drink. Hissing, he grabbed for napkins to mop up the mess and dry himself off a little. He felt eyes on himself and lowered his head, as well as turning away slightly. He unfortunately still heard it though—

"Ya heard the rumors that General Strife’s son doing deliveries around here, haven’t ya?"

Cloud's nostrils flared.

"Deliveries…” a derisive laugh followed. "Is that the only thing that kid's good for? If that was my son I’d be disappointed. I heard everyone in that family has some foot in the army. To be doing deliveries," disappointed tutting followed.

"I know what ya mean."

The voices sounded louder as if directed at Cloud. He threw the soiled napkins in the bin and rushed off, coffee and bouquet in each hand, heading down the hall and away from the muttonheads.

He barged into Zack’s room, dumped the bouquet at the foot of the bed and started pacing.

“How dare those jerks talk about you like that. After all you did. This is what I hate. The backstabbing, two-faced bullshit. Being treated like a number and a burden!"

He was in full swing—pacing around the room and fuming. “I can see it in their smug, douchey faces, you know. The derision. The pity. I don't need anyone's pity. I never asked for anyone's pity. And they throw that same shit at you. At least you can't see or hear it. You're a national hero, but they try to brush you off like you don't exist. Like you're broken. That's what they all do, you know. If you don't cut it they cut you off, and let you go." Cloud stomped, his hands flew around wildly gesticulating as he kept ranting, "They love nothing more than to hammer home what an epic disappointment you are to the whole fucking family,” he slammed his fist into the wall with a low growl. The pain radiated up his arm. It helped to sober him up and cool him off a little. He breathed furiously and stared at the wall, which had become rather blurry through the tears welling up in his eyes.

He listened to the buzzing of machinery in the room. His ragged breathing and the steady beeping of Zack’s heart rate monitor cut through the slight ringing in his ears. Yet the beeping sounded a fraction faster than what it had been before.

“Sorry,” Cloud muttered and turned back to face the room. He stared at Zack's unchanging body for a while before he shuffled back toward the comatose man. Picking up the bouquet as he went, he sank down into the now-familiar chair and placed the flowers on the table where he should have put them to begin with. “I hate it, y’know. I hate what you do and the organization you work for. And if you were to wake up right now—well, I'd hate to think that I’d probably hate you too.” His heart felt heavy. Most of all he hated that it was the truth. As upset as he felt right now, he wasn’t saying this to be vindictive; nothing but honesty left his mouth.

He gave a hard stare at the man on the bed before him. His face was turned away, and Cloud thought it for the best as he spoke in a slow, semi-whisper, “A part of me hopes you won’t pull through.” He cast eyes to the floor. He felt awful admitting it. “I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to be doing this. And most of all, I don’t wanna know you because… because if I got to actually know you through something other than the media, I'd probably end up really liking you. It's easy to hate you when they espouse you to be the poster child of the military. I don't want to like you. I don't want to hate you. Fuck, I don't know." Cloud clutched his head, flinging off his hat and rubbing at his hair furiously. "I don't mean that. I'd rather think the best of you, really. But…" he sighed, "you also don't seem like someone I would ever get along with. Everyone seems to love you—I mean, I don't think I've ever seen a room so full of flowers and get-well wishes on cards. You know, the cleaners have to clear out your room once a week to stop this place from becoming a jungle? That's how much people like you. I mean, I don't know if they are from personal friends and family, but… it doesn't even matter. It’s been three months and you still get so much love showered your way. You're like an amazing poster child. The media made it sound like you were a prodigy; super good at your job; such a bright future ahead of you. That's what I hear the shitheads outside say about you too—the ones who envy you. That's what it is, you know, jealousy and envy. And I know because…” he huffed. “But here you are, nearly dead. Bet no one envies that.. Bet they wouldn't have the guts to be the kind of guy you were—are. I don't even know whether you're dead or alive. All I know is that you're everything I hate in a person. You're everything I wish I could have been. Shit. I don't know. I'm just ranting, ignore me." Cloud sat up straight and replaced his hat.

With a heavy sigh, he continued, “It’s a pretty shit way to feel about someone, especially since I don't even know you. Look, I guess all I know is that from everything I've seen and heard, you sound… really irritating. I guess it’s not the fairest assessment to be making about a person.” Cloud, leaning back down to rest his forearms on his thighs, knit his fingers together and stared at his hands. “I probably sound like a real asshole. I guess I am. And to be honest, if you woke up and I found out you were somewhat of an asshole, that would make me like you more. It would give you a redeemable quality.” Cloud huffed out some sad amusement and looked up at the man he had just admonished. “Or maybe I want you to be an ass so I can feel better about myself.”

He righted himself from where he had slumped. “But all that being said… I actually kind of do hope you pull through. I’m not evil. Or maybe I am.” Cloud cast a glance toward the currently frosted-over privacy windows that looked into the ICU ward. “I want you to prove everyone out there wrong. It’s disgusting the derisive pity and platitudes they all spout. I'm sure you deserve better than that. I'm sure you don't need their shit.” Cloud sighed and picked up the coffee cup he had set down amongst the bouquets. He took a sip and grimaced. “And I'm also pretty sure I deserve better coffee than this.” He aimed and threw the cup toward the bin near the door. He hit his mark and collected himself so he could walk out of the room with an air of aloofness.

“Anyway, good chat, I guess. See you later.”

_____________

Deciding he didn't want to take on his colleagues workload, as he felt rather run down, he arrived very early in the afternoon at the hospital. Cloud wandered down the hospital hall, carrying another bouquet to its usual destination and felt rather anxious. The thought of how long it had actually been since his delivery recipient had landed in the ICU began bothering him. The fact that Zack was still in the same state as the first day Cloud had done his delivery grew disconcerting for him. Yes, the man didn’t need a machine anymore to help him breathe; yes, several more of the intensive care equipment had slowly been moved out of the room, but Zack was still there. Was he brain-dead? Was he improving? Cloud tried to not think about the other man too much, but lately it ate into his sleep and he could feel the onset of another unwell period settling in. He hated how he could practically feel himself slipping into the prodromal phase of his condition. He needed to get some good sleep tonight if he hoped to not crash and burn in the morning. So he stopped by the nurse's station to see if he could get some information.

“Evening Simon,” he said of the man dressed in dark scrubs and a hazel complexion.

“Hi, Cloud. That's another very lovely bouquet you got there.”

“Aerith is a master when it comes to this stuff. I don't think any of the ones I've brought in have been the same.”

“I think you're right. But what can I do for you? You don't make a habit of stopping by for a chat.”

“Ah, just wanted to know how Zack was doing. He's still in the ICU after all this time. That doesn't seem right. Will he be okay?”

Simon looked past Cloud to where Zack's room was. “Considering how on a knife's edge he was, he's doing remarkably well. He's been such a delight, it's almost a shame that we'll be moving him next week.”

Cloud stared, baffled by everything the other man has just said. “He's being moved?”

“Yeah. Getting his own private area, up on the fifth floor of the residential rehabilitation wing. It’s pretty nice up there.”

“Wouldn't he be better off staying down here?”

“No. He's out of imminent danger. Plus, he’s been asking to be moved for the last two weeks.”

“A-asking? But he's out cold.” A sinking feeling grew.

Simon looked confused. “He's been pretty vocal. For someone in his shape, he's been remarkably upbeat these past few weeks. You don’t know that he’s awake?”

If it were possible to feel sea-sick on land, Cloud experienced it at that moment. “No.” The nurse hummed. “Maybe you keep coming in when he's sleeping?”

Cloud really hoped that was what was going on, but his brain went to the worst-case scenario; mocking betrayal. “Yeah. Must be it.”

Cloud took his leave and headed to the room. The windows were frosted over for privacy. As he approached a man with raven hair, and a woman with ebony curls, and an olive complexion, exit the room. They didn't appear to be the regular military personnel; wearing casual clothes as the sting of winter had gone.

As the parties passed each other the woman stopped Cloud in his tracks. “Excuse me, are those for my son?”

Cloud looked toward Zack's room and back at the couple, both of which were a good five inches taller than himself. “A delivery for Zack Fair.”

The man and woman gave him big, good-natured smiles.

“So you must be Cloud,” she said.

Strangers knowing his name always unnerved him. “Ahhh, yeah—that's me,” he answered warily. Cloud had his hand taken and shaken in turn by both of them.

“We can't thank you enough for keeping our son company. We know that it means a lot to him.”

Indignation started to build, but he kept his cool. “There's nothing to thank me for.”

“Oh, come now. Don't be so modest,” the rather-fit-for-a-middle-aged man said, smiling broadly. He clapped Cloud on the shoulder.

“You have been such a great help to our Zack. Thank you,” the woman looked to want to pull Cloud into a hug, but the flowers he held seemed to dissuade her, to Cloud’s relief.

“If we can ever repay you for the kindness, please let us know,” the man said.

“Oh, n-no, that’s not… I’m just doing my job,” Cloud stammers lightly.

He received more warm smiles an ‘thank you’s before the woman urged, “Dear, we should be leaving, and let Cloud get on with his work.”

“Right, right. Thank you again for looking after our son.”

With that the couple hurried off, leaving Cloud staring at the now offending room before himself. He thought about not going in. He'd obviously been played. But he had a job to do, so he inhaled sharply and ventured forward.

On opening the door he was greeted by a wholly unfamiliar voice, “Hey, mom, pop did you—”

Cloud stood in the doorway, glaring daggers

The bright smile vanished even before the sheets were flung over the bedridden man's head and the lump under the blanket shuffled flat against the mattress. Faux snoring sounded moments later.

Cloud stood and his hard-as-steel glare broke at the ridiculousness of the scene playing out before him. It might have been amusing if Cloud wasn’t getting red hot with anger and embarrassment.

He closed the door behind himself and moved toward the bed, a frown playing on his lips. He went to the bed and dropped the flowers on the tray table, making the flimsy plastic rattle. “Another bouquet from Aerith,” was his business-as-usual greeting.

Cloud received no response other than the snoring quieting down a little. He glared and made a snap decision. “I’m not coming back here.” Humiliation burned. Cloud turned to flee the situation and feelings. He’d rather quit his job than make one more delivery to this place. He was going to tell Tifa as much.

“No, Cloud. I’m sorry. I’m an asshole, I know. But that’s why you should stay,” came the hasty and guilty admission in a low, rusty timbre.

Cloud stopped before he reached the door. Without turning back he agreed with the man, “You are an asshole.”

“But it’s my redeemable feature, right?” Zack laid out gently.

It took all of Cloud’s energy to keep his body from trembling with outrage and mortification. How long had this bastard been faking it? “Does Aerith know that you’re awake?” he got out through grit teeth, wanting to know how deep this farcical ruse went.

A few beats of silence. And then, “She visited last week,” came the muttered response.

The outrage erupted. An actual growl rumbled in the back of CLoud’s throat. Through grit teeth, he snapped, “And?”

“Aaaand—we talked and had a really nice time,” came the small, chastened voice.

Cloud huffed, sharply. His clenched fist trembled and his heart hammered. The flash of heat inside his body sprang to his cheeks. He thought he could die from embarrassment. She had known. He had seen her this late morning and she had said nothing to him. He didn’t know who he was madder at. “Good luck with your life,” he spat over his shoulder, without looking at the bane of his existence, and marched to the door.

“I’m so sorry,” came the plea. “Please don’t leave. Let me ex—”

Cloud slammed the door behind himself and hurried out, ignoring any looks or questions of concern he received. His whole body trembled with burning outrage by the time he got to the car. He couldn’t go back to work to drop the van off. He couldn’t face Tifa without snapping at her and unleashing all his anger at her, because she must have known as well.

Cloud went home and passed out in his bed.

#clack #zakkura #FFVII Modern AU #fanfic #sneakpeek #first chapter #hospital #military #cloud strife #zack fair #tifa lockhart #aerith gainsborough

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kariachi · 5 years

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Levinstar wedding planning fic! Which I have spent the last like, six hours on.

Love it or perish.

He’d never expected Mike to propose. Why should he have? Someone like Gwen, yes, eventually they were going to legally latch themselves onto somebody, but Mike? He’d never seemed the type. He had been, as far as Kevin could tell, perfectly happy to be in a position where getting tired of the way things were wouldn’t mean dragging in lawyers or anything to change course. And Kevin had been fine with that. If he hadn’t then he wouldn’t have bothered keeping up the relationship. It was cool.

But he had.

Which had been so fucking confusing.

Literally Mike’d sat there for ten minutes getting more and more aggravated at not getting an answer while Kevin had been shifting his worldview enough to acknowledge the question.

Really, they were probably the only couple in Bellwood who could get into a yelling match over a welcomed marriage proposal.

It should’ve been considered a sign.

“Mike, babe, what the fuck?”

There was not a square inch of flat surface free in the Morningstar livingroom that wasn’t floor. Everywhere was calendars and books and papers and a stack of pizza boxes Kevin was very tempted to set on fire just to make a point. Domino’s, really, as if he couldn’t make him better asleep and half-dead.

“I’m trying to figure out a date for the wedding.” Mike didn’t even bother to look up, instead glowering at a list of dates like it had personally offended him. Kevin just shook his head, leaning over the back of the couch and draping his arms over his shoulders.

“Without me?”

“I was going to give you final pick when I find the best days.”

“Of course you were.” Rolling his eyes, Kevin plopped his chin onto Mike’s hair and began scanning the list. It looked to be covering the next few years, for all that there weren’t that many dates on it. “Just how long were you intending us to stay engaged, by the way?” Mike shrugged.

“I’d prefer to the married within the year, but the Miramonte is more heavily booked than I’d like for the next few. We could probably get Ocean Bleu though, which isn’t quite what I’d like but your mother’s family could get there easier. Or there’s the Cedar Lakes Estate, but that’s so… rustic.” That last word was said in about the same tone Gwen had used when she found out they were dating in the first place. This did not stop Kevin from glancing at the relevant booklets Mike gestured to and crinkling his nose.

“You realize we could just have the whole thing at Kay’s place, or at the farmhouse.” Mike turned to him with a look like he’d suggested getting married in a sewer, which he might out of spite.

“I am not getting married on a farm.”

“Why not? They’re perfectly good farms, pretty, got plenty of space, and we don’t need to worry about when venues will be available.”

“I am worth 237 million dollars,” Mike said haughtily, “you’re worth the cost of a small planet, we are not getting married on a farm. What next, do you want a cow to officiate?” Kevin punched him in the shoulder. “We’re getting married in all the finery you deserve.”

For a brief, shining moment Kevin wasn’t aggravated. What he deserved, specifically. He loved these instances where Mike’s attitude, all pride and vanity and narcissism, slipped just enough to show how he held him in high regard as well. It was sweet. It was romantic. It did not mean he was giving in.

“Consider- I don’t want chandeliers and crystal and shit. It’s a waste of money for what’s gonna take up a weekend at best.” Mike leaned forward and turned to face him.

“Consider- suck it up, you’re getting it anyway.”

“No.”

“Yes.” Kevin glowered at Mike. Mike glowered right back. Neither backed down. Really, fancy venues, they didn’t even know enough people to fill one of these venues, and it’d probably be a bitch to get the catering crews to do the amount of food they’d need.

“Look, we’ll get married at one of the mansions-”

“No, then people will think we couldn’t rent a place.” Oh good fuck. Biting back a growl, Kevin took a deep breathe and turned his attention back to the list of dates. That couldn’t be nearly as aggravating as this. It couldn’t.

“Why isn’t the Winter Solstice on there,” he asked, “that’s a good day for weddings.” It was the day for weddings, among Osmosians. Still, Mike shook his head.

“We celebrate your birthday on the solstice, whether it is or not-” Another Osmosian thing “-and it’s bad luck to get married on your birthday.” Kevin blinked.

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Okaaay,” he took a deep breath, “and since when were you the superstitious sort?”

“Since now.”

There just, there were no words.

In the end they settled on a Wednesday in August, which Mike swore backwards and forth was the best possible combination. More specifically one a few years in the coming.

Kevin had a grim suspicion that they’d need the time.

“I’m sorry, let me rephrase, we will not, under any circumstances, be having a potluck wedding reception.” He was impossible, Kevin swore it.

“And why not?”

“It isn’t done.”

“It is by my family.”

“Your family can’t afford catering, or else it wouldn’t be.” Which wasn’t entirely wrong, but he would eat his own tongue before he admitted it.

“You don’t even like other people’s food,” he replied instead. “You can’t even taste it most of the time, half the pack has adjusted their recipes for you!” Mike just kept that easy ‘I’m right and you aren’t smart enough to know it’ look he got from time to time up on his face.

“So we’ll take that into account when we choose our caterer,” he said. “Maybe Indian food or something.

“Why though, when we can just as easily get family and friends to handle the whole thing, and not have to pay out the ass?” Heaving a sigh, Mike looked up at the kitchen ceiling like Kevin was the one being unreasonable.

“Because we can pay for someone else to do it and not have to worry ourselves and our guests. Plus, the food will look better.” It would’ve been very easy for Kevin to argue that nothing looked as good as Casey’s mutton ribs, except maybe the man across from him, but he didn’t. There were more important factors.

“And what about diet shit?” That got Mike to stop, gently setting his spoon back in his bowl. “Argit, Ken, and Pierce can’t have chocolate, Ben can’t be in the same room as peanuts, I can’t have anything that’s been in contact with strawberry and neither can a decent number of my relatives. If family’s doing the cooking I know I don’t have to worry about any of that, but all it takes is one person with only half a brain cell to fuck that up with outsiders.”

Mike went quiet, lips sinking into a frown and brow furrowing like maybe, just maybe, Kevin had a point. It was guaranteed the very thought would have him sulking until dessert. He closed his eyes and took, then released, a deep breath.

“I’d still rather get catering,” he said, quietly, “but if it would make you happy, then we’ll see about getting somebody we can pay enough to not pitch a fit if your family brings in food too.” Victory. A small victory, but still. Grinning like the Cheshire Cat, Kevin leaned over the table to plant a quick kiss on the corner of his mouth.

“Thanks, babe. Sounds like a plan.”

They had three more arguments about venues before finally settling on one. Mike wanted elegant and upscale, someplace people would talk about. Kevin wanted homey and down-to-earth (and preferably cheap). In the end they’d settled on a middle ground, moving the wedding out of the county and to the Morningstar’s household in Italy.

Apparently, upon bringing his new wife and son over to the states, Greggory Morningstar had noted how she missed their homeland and had the house built for her so she could pick up and visit whenever she wished. He also apparently bought her a plane, and Kevin thought the whole thing as ridiculous as it was romantic. Michael just seemed too damn proud of his grandfather’s actions.

Proud enough he started a whole new argument by asking if Kevin wanted him to build him a house.

“Why am I marrying into money, this is a horrible idea.”

“Because you’re a golddigger until the bitter end.”

“Fuck, you’re right.”

“Also I’m pretty.”

“That too.”

Helen and Elena had wisely left the room fifteen minutes ago, and were probably continuing in their quest to help throw this wedding together so Mike didn’t drive himself mad and Kevin didn’t kill him.

Back in the dining room though, both men were on their feet, teeth bared and chins lowered, all but growling at each other.

They had been in this position for, you guessed it, fifteen minutes.

It turned out their ideas of décor, which had seemed to meld so well before when they were just leaving their marks on each other’s homes, were not surviving the wedding process. Again, Mike wanted flashy and elegant (tacky, he wanted tacky, why couldn’t he stop throwing money around for five minutes-) while Kevin wanted earthy and simple (cheap, neither of them were on the streets anymore they could afford to indulge in nice things-).

“Okay boys,” Helen said as she strode back in, ignoring the tension- she’d known these two since she was quite literally born, she was used to it- and dropping a small stack of books on the table between them, “Elena and I have figured something out. First off, we’ve decided on greys, golds, and blues for your colors. Shut up.” Both men closed their mouths before even getting the chance to speak. “They’re what look best on you both and you’d argue about it just to argue. Anyway, we’ve got a plan, we’re gonna handle it, we just need you boys to pick some flowers that’ll work.” She patted the stack, which a quick glance proved to be on the topic.

“We don’t care if you do them together or apart, just get us at least four to work off and don’t kill each other. I’ve already got a dress bought and I’m not wasting it because you’re stupid.” Neither of them answered, but when she rolled her eyes and left Kevin stuck his tongue out at her back.

If nothing else it made Mike bite back a laugh.

They split the job. Mike chose daffodils and false indigo, which meant Kevin had to scrap his plan to choose daffodils. (He should’ve known anyway, given how fond Mike was of them.) Instead he went with irises and tulips, and if it was because the idea of tulips for a later summer wedding seemed so very Michael to him, well, it wasn’t like anyone was going to ask.

Thankfully, they all really worked surprisingly well together.

“So,” Kevin asked one evening while they hung out on his couch, “what are we doing with your uncle?”

“What do you mean?” Mike didn’t take his eyes off his game, but his shoulders tensed under Kevin’s arm. He pulled it back enough to be able to massage one.

“Are we inviting him or- I mean I know you guys’ relationship is… weird, right now but…” ‘But everyone on the list so far is either a mutual friend or someone there for me.’ Mike was quiet for a moment, then paused his game.

“Do you think we should?” Kevin shrugged.

“I think I’d have to start shaming the Tennysons into not flipping their shit tomorrow if we do,” he said. “I mean their history with him is as bad as it is with me, possibly worse given I never tried to kill either of their moms.” Mike groaned under his breath. “But he’s your uncle, and if you want him there…” He shrugged again, but threw up a grin and nudged Mike’s shoulder.

“If you want him there, I’ll drag him to Italy myself if I have to.” Quietly chuckling, Mike leaned against him.

“I think,” he said slowly, like he was rolling the idea in his head, “I’m more likely to regret not inviting him someday than I am to regret inviting him. Besides, if anyone is going to go all out to celebrate my wedding, it’ll be him.” Kevin chuckled.

“Given he tried to kidnap you when we were three because he loved you so much, I’m not surprised.”

“Excuse me,” Mike replied, smiling, “he did not try to kidnap me. He succeeded in kidnapping me. And given how my stepmother turned out I don’t think he can be blamed.” There was no way Kevin could really argue there.

“Still, I’m glad our dads tracked you down. He really doesn’t sound like the type who should be raising children.”

“Oh fuck no,” Mike said. “Maybe he can come babysit on occasion, but we’re definitely not leaving our kids to him or anything.” Not that they’d ever really agreed to have kids (they’d agreed it seemed likely to happen at some point, given how Kevin’s family was, but not to have them specifically) but Kevin still nodded. It wasn’t a discussion for now.

“Oh no, we leave them to Argit.”

After another four arguments Mike got permission to build Kevin a house up in New England, closer to his mother’s relatives. In return, two other Morningstar properties were being converted into a foster care center and housing for families traveling in pursuit of healthcare for mutant children.

Mike accepted the terms as soon as he got them.

“Cookies, pie, or something else?”

“What?” Rolling out from under his car, Kevin looked up to see Mike standing there with one of the notepads he seemed to have an endless supply of lately.

“I assume you don’t want us to have a cake, so what do you think we should have instead? I want to say cookies but that seems…”

“Inelegant.” Kevin had been at this long enough at this point to hear that word ringing in his dreams anymore. Still, he smiled at Mike’s remembering how he felt about cake and sat up, crossing his arms over his legs. “You want pie then?”

“Unless you can think of something else. Croquembouche maybe. It would be traditional, but given how many children are likely to be at this I’d worry about it being damaged.”

“And pies won’t suffer from that,” Kevin chuckled.

“They’re not likely to topple over at any point.”

“They will if we stack them high enough.” His bright smile was met with a glower, which was really the goal with that one. Sometimes getting a rise out of Mike was fun.

“Don’t start, Kevin. I just want to know what you think.” Kevin took a minute the think it over, rising to his feet with a long stretch and stepping over to rest his head against Mike’s, ignoring the resultant complaints about mussing his hair.

“Order your pastry tower,” he said, “I’ll ask the fam to make pies and tarts and we’ll just, form a protective ring of them.” With a snorting laugh, Mike shook his head.

“Alright, sure.” He raised an eyebrow at Kevin in a way that might have been stern if he wasn’t smiling. “If this thing gets knocked over though-”

“You can skin me alive, I’ll deserve it.” Pressing a quick kiss to his lips, Kevin backed up. “Was that all you needed, babe?” Purring, Mike nodded.

“I think so, for now at least. Thank you, Daffodil.”

“What do you mean ‘no’?! You’ve spent the past year and a half insisting this be the most posh, elegant wedding ever on the planet Earth and now you don’t want me in fucking formalwear?!” He was gonna kill him, right here in a tailor shop he was going to kill him.

“You look awkward,” Mike snapped by way of explanation, “and weird dressed like that, like someone put jeans on a swan! Just-” He stepped forward and began wrestling Kevin out of his outfit. “-take off the jacket- There! That looks right!” He didn’t look in the mirror. He refused. Over a year of fighting him, and losing half the time, on the topic of how elegant this whole affair should be and now, now Mike decided there was a line.

He was gonna kill him.

Even if it felt nice to lose the extra fabric around his neck.

“And what, pray tell, are you going to wear then?”

“The full suit, obviously.” Yep gonna kill him. “I look good in it and you…” Reaching out, Mike adjusted his collar and tie. Smoothed out the fabric over his chest and arms. “You look better like this.”

“Do I now?” Some old bit of Kevin’s brain swore that if this was some attempt to make him look unkempt, out of place, at his own damn wedding just to make his bastard shine more he would- Mike leaned in and kissed him.

“You look like you,” he said when he pulled away, then gave the outfit a critical eye. “We’ll just have to make up for the jacket with the jewelry.”

Kevin stared into the velvet-lined box in his hands. There was just, everything in there. Earrings, noserings, cufflinks, if it was a piece of jewelry he could physically wear it was there. And white sapphires, the lot of it. (“I know how you feel about the diamond industry, Levin.”) He just, didn’t know what to say. He’d never legally held this many gemstones in his hands before. Forget hundreds, there had to be thousands of dollars’ worth of jewels there.

“Mike, I-”

“Kevin Ethan Levin-Jones, I swear if I get to the altar and you aren’t fucking sparkling with all this I am going to turn around and come right the fuck back home.” Oh. Well then. He chuckled and grinned up at him.

“Whatever you want, babe.”

The coffeetable was littered with papers containing every possible combination of their first and last names. And relatives’ last names. And Mike’s clan name which it turned out didn’t work with anything. Because apparently the fates hated them.

“I’m telling you, ‘Kevin Morningstar’ works the best out of the lot.”

“Yeah but do I want to be associated with that level of wealth?” Mike looked at him askance.

“It’s not like we’re the fucking Bezos family.”

“Still.”

“Besides, you could get rid of that stupid pun. Honestly, I’m still pissed you didn’t get rid of it when you changed your name. Kevin E Levin, really, only you would make your name worse.”

“What can I say, I’m my father’s child.”

“You’re not making puns out of my children, you know.”

“We’ll see about that.” Shifting some papers, Kevin chewed the inside of his cheek. “‘Michael Levin-Jones’ doesn’t sound bad.” Mike groaned beside him.

“No, but it doesn’t sound as good as ‘Michael Morningstar’ does.”

“That’s just because of the alliteration. Besides, that way Argit wouldn’t have to kill me for changing my name after he legally snatched it up.”

“He can deal.” Kevin shook his head with a heavy sigh, dropping it onto Mike’s shoulder.

“We are going to be here forever,” he said, which only seemed to aggravate his fiancé.

“No, we are going to figure something out if I have to pull a name from a goddamn hat.”

In the end, somehow, probably thanks to the girls, it turned out to be a nice wedding.

The house was lovely, large enough that family could take over the kitchens but not huge, with nice landscaping and a lovely view of the Mediterranean that they’d used as a backdrop for the ceremony and pictures. Kevin did feel more comfortable without the jacket and found himself unable to argue about clothing choices when Mike showed up in full formalwear, mostly because he was too busy alternating between staring and trying to discreetly swat Ben and Argit for laughing at him. The traitors.

The ceremony was as lovely as was to be expected given Kevin had puppy-eyed Zak into officiating and Mike had written half the damn thing. Multiple people had cried, including Kevin himself. The rings had been revealed, homemade by Kevin, at which point everything seemed to hit Mike and he nearly cried. They had to do the whole ‘you may kiss the groom’ thing twice, purely because Kevin couldn’t resist being a shit and littering Mike’s face with the kisses the first time, but they were both smiling after and Manny fell down laughing so nobody could really argue against it.

Besides, any embarrassment it may have caused Mike’s poor battered pride was overshadowed at the reception, when Mr Zomboni decided to make a toast and speech detailing some of the embarrassing things they both did as toddlers before bursting into tears again as how grown up his dear nephew was.

Was a lovely reception though, Helen and Elena outdid themselves. Everything in crystal and flowers, steel, gold, and chains. Elegant enough that Mike could bear to attend (cue eye roll) and mellow enough Kevin didn’t feel out of place at his own damn wedding. And the food was spectacular, even- Kevin hated to admit- the catered stuff, though he happily noted, aloud, that Mike ate more of the home cooking on offer.

After his bitching he was never living it down.

All in all it was, good.

Right.

Perfect.

“Ya know,” Kevin said, quietly because they were both suffering from monster hangovers post-reception, “I’m just amazed we survived this long. I was sure we were going to kill each other.” With a tiny huff, Mike burrowed further into his side, face slotted against his collarbone.

“Couldn’t kill you,” he mumbled, “spent too much on that damn engagement ring to waste it.” Kevin snorted a quick laugh, flinching when his headache didn’t agree with it.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, pressing a kiss to his hair, “love you too, Sparkles.” Mike huffed louder this time, throwing one arm over his face and around Kevin’s head as he mumbled something into his skin.

It sounded suspiciously similar to ‘love you more’.

#fanfic #levinstar #ben 10 #kevin levin #mike morningstar

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cath-with-a-c · 5 years

Text

Nothing and Everything, 4/7

in which the rules are broken

Wordcount: ~3,1k words

TW: underage drinking, physical and emotional abuse

part 1 part 2 part 3

2002

This thing was bound to go to shit, but it was too late to quit. You don’t quit drinking after you’ve already taken a few swigs, right?

“It could use some spice, to be honest,” Desmond drawled, swirling his drink in the water bottle and taking another measured sip. “Cinnamon would work, I guess.”

Rob gave him an unimpressed look. “Since when are you a cocktail expert?” he blurted out, leaning on the tree behind him. The world was slightly askew around the edges, but the feeling would pass soon.

At least he hoped so. They had maybe a few minutes left before they’d have to get back.

Desmond gave him crooked, one-sided grin and grabbed a piece of candied fruit from the packet between them. He had a little blush high up on his cheeks. “Since I have taste, dude,” he scoffed and dropped fruit into his mouth.

Rob rolled his eyes giving his friend a little shove. What Desmond tasted he didn’t know, for him, this was just a weird mix of apple juice and booze burning its way down the throat, that was becoming gradually less awful with every swig, just as Rob's head was getting lighter and lighter.

It had all started when Maisie told them she'd managed to steal a bottle of whiskey from her father’s secret cabinet, and she had been ready to go all communist and distribute it equally to every kid over the age of fourteen. The distribution itself had been the main problem - because one, it had to be evenly measured and two, alcohol was off limits on the Farm, meaning they needed to somehow cover their tracks.

The way around getting caught in the act had taken a few more days, until today they were finally tasting and toasting their victory, 2.8 ounces per water bottle, with apple juice on top to hide the smell.

“There goes another rule,” Desmond said, letting his head fall against the tree, eyes closed. Rob watched, all but hypnotized, as his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down with another swig. “We’ve been drinking for fifteen minutes and the world didn’t end. How surprising.”

“And how many left?” Rob asked, taking one more sip too.

“Four,” Desmond drawled, eyes still closed, and then amended. “Well, three, you can’t really break fourth while still being here, so. Three, I guess.”

He took a big sip and grimaced. “Nothing is true, everything is permitted,” he said in a mocking tone. “More like “everything we say is true, and nothing is permitted unless we say so”, for fuck's sake.”

Rob didn't answer, taking another swig instead. He didn't really want to argue with Desmond on this again. The rising level of spite and edge in Desmond’s argument was getting uncomfortable, The Creed was there to protect and guide them, why try to tear it down so much, especially when using it?

To his relief, Desmond wasn’t really in a fighting mood too. He huffed a sigh, swirling his drink absently, and glanced down on his watch. “Ten minutes before break ends, guess we better head out,” he said, taking one more gulp, putting the bottle down under the log they were sitting on and getting up.

Rob nodded, setting down his own drink and gingerly getting up too. He still had enough sobriety left to realize that, even if his feet were steady enough, any and all acrobatics were out of the question.

Desmond, who seemed surprisingly better at holding his liquor, put a steadying hand over Rob’s shoulders. “Let’s take a long way back, okay?”

They’ve crossed the woods, heading back along the running track that surrounded the Farm as some sort of old fortifications, red stripes on the trees marking every hundred feet. The walk through familiar woods cleared Rob’s head a little, and, by the time they’ve reached the Farm, he was pretty sure no one could tell he was tipsy.

He turned his head to Desmond to say as much when all of a sudden Desmond’s hand on his shoulder tensed and he took it off. “Mom,” he greeted in a forcefully light tone that nearly made Rob cringe.

He turned back to see Mrs. Miles briskly walking towards them with a deep frown on her face. She stopped just a few feet ahead, arms crossed over her chest, brown eyes hard. “Son,” she replied, mimicking his voice. “Be a dear, let me smell your breath.”

Rob’s stomach dropped. “That’s a weird request, mom,” Desmond said lightly, and Maria scowled at him.

“Now,” she demanded icily, and Desmond’s shoulders dropped. Mrs. Miles looked at both of their guilty faces for a few seconds and nodded. "With me."

She led them to the center of the Farm in dead silence. Rob sneaked a glanced at Desmond, who was looking straight ahead, and Rob wasn’t sure he was even blinking.

In front of the central hall, there was a group of teens surrounded by a group of adults. Rob counted the others hastily. Five. Apart from them, there were five others, meaning that two weren't caught, and, aside from clearly anxious Maisie and red-eyed Colin, everyone seemed more or less fine.

As if echoing Rob's thoughts, Desmond sighed in relief and, glancing at him, drew a letter S in the air.

Oh, that's right. Sammy wasn't there. And Daria. The two nerds must've been too busy for a drink. Or just sneaky enough, who cares, it was a relief either way.

"I think that's all of them," Maria said, joining other disgruntled adults. "Where's Bill?"

Ned, Maisie's father nodded at the central hall. "Said he'd be in a moment." he then gave the teens a sidelong glance. "The whole lot of them, eh? That's new. Do you know where they've got the stuff?"

Maisie visibly tensed at his words, and Desmond gently patted her on the back.

"It's gonna be fine," he whispered just loud enough for her and Rob to hear, a comforting lie. Rob could honestly appreciate his effort

"No, they wouldn't tell," Colin's mother, Theo, grumbled, eyeing her son.

“They will, eventually,” Maria assured her, and Rob shivered a little.

The chatter died, as William Miles emerged from the central hall with Rob's own dad in tow. His face was a particular kind of stormy, but compared to William, he was completely chill.

"Line up!" William barked and before Rob could even comprehend what was said, his legs moved, placing him between Desmond and Colin. Their shoulders brushed and Rob realized that Desmond was tense, as if ready for an attack.

William paced in front of them, looking every teen in the face, like he was trying to read their minds, but not sparing Desmond even a glance. "Which one of you did it?“ he asked in a chillingly even voice. "You better tell me, or you are all going to be punished as severely as whoever started it. Think about it.“

The only answer he got was silence. Rob carefully watched as the muscles of William’s face twitched, and felt a little wave of weird satisfaction. They weren't all best friends, but there was no way they would tattle. No one was going to throw Maisie under the bus, no one-

"I did it," Desmond said, in a monotone. He almost sounded bored. "It was my idea."

Rob turned to him, almost choking on air. Desmond was looking straight ahead, with the same blank stare that had been haunting Rob's dreams for years.

For a few moments the silence around them was deafening like everything has stopped until it was broken by a cry:

"Wait, no, it's not him, it's me!“ Maisie stepped forward, visibly trembling. "I stole the bottle, not Desmond!“

William pinned her to the spot with the same icy stare. "Ms. Snow, as commendable it is to stand up for your peers, you shouldn't try to take the blame for my son."

Maisie made a strangled sound. "But-" she started again only to be cut off by Desmond.

"Mais. Stop it," he said, turning to her. "You know you didn't do it."

He then turned again, calmly looking his father in the eyes. "I did it. I stole the bottle from Mr. Snow's cabinet."

He continued, explaining the steps he took, sounding so sure, Rob was deterred for a moment. Desmond was selling it like a good actor sells a role. As if nudged, Rob looked at adults, who were murmuring about themselves, nodding along.

“Why am I not surprised,” Maria sighed, looking tired.

It dawned on Rob that this was something expected, they were expecting Desmond to be the one behind this.

Suddenly Rob remembered, how lucky they seemed as kids, how a lot of problems and pranks, guaranteed to get them a whooping, would go unnoticed.

Had they really?

"Step forward, Desmond," William's voice cut through his thoughts. Desmond's shoulder, tense and hot under thin t-shirt brushed Rob's and he barely curbed the urge to grab his friend by the arm.

“You have disappointed me, son,” William said in a low, flat tone, and Desmond rolled his eyes.

“Big fucking news,” he said, spitefully, and William backhanded him in an instant, making his head whip to the side. The slap resonated, making Rob wince.

“What,” William all but growled, sounding like a big, angry dog. “Did I tell you about swearing, boy?”

“Sorry, I forgot,” Desmond murmured, gingerly touching his cheek, shoulders dropping, fight seemingly drained from him.

“Bill,” Maria reprimanded, glancing around. “Not in front of the others.”

William spared her a quick look and nodded. “You are right,” he said and turned to adults. “Everyone is dismissed. Desmond, with us.”

Without another word, he walked away and Desmond followed, like a puppet on strings, throwing Rob one last glance over the shoulder.

Rob wanted to run after him, to ask, why the hell he would do something so stupid, but his own father had already taken him by the shoulder and was leading him away, to their home.

Because his father was a virtual saint, Rob was let off the hook with minimal casualties - he just sighed, asked Rob to be more responsible in the future and shifted the curfew by a couple of hours. William wasn’t so lenient, though - the next day after mandatory morning training, he made all of those caught line up in front of the other kids for a public shunning, giving them an almost an hour lecture on why their actions are a disgrace to the community and the Brotherhood at large, most of which went completely over Rob’s head because he was too busy trying to find Desmond anywhere.

Desmond wasn’t there. Which, probably, shouldn’t have been that surprising - that happened before, he would disappear after they got busted, and then he’d be back later in the day, but something wasn’t sitting comfortably in Rob’s chest. They’d never, like, had been caught breaking an actual rule before, and Desmond’s confession certainly didn't give him any points too.

The lecture concluded with the punishment being dealt - they’d have to run ten miles instead of five every morning for the next four weeks, and they’re not allowed to have water bottles on them for the same period of time - and the teens were finally allowed to resume their daily routines, which Rob did, still being on a lookout for Desmond.

Desmond didn’t show up throughout the day, and the next day, and the day after that. Rob, dread settled comfortably in the pit of his stomach, asked around, but no one has seen him since the Whiskey Incident. As Maisie, who also noticed his absence and was visibly distraught by that, put it, this was like Desmond had disappeared from the face of the earth.

By the sixth day, Rob had almost worked up the courage to just go and ask Mrs. Miles about Desmond. He was sitting on their clearing, having just seen Sam and Penny off, sharpening the knives and rehearsing in his head what he was going to say, when-

“Rob,” he heard and his head whipped up. Desmond was standing in the middle of the clearing, looking at him with a half-smile.

“Desmond!” Rob dropped the knife and sprang on his feet, breathing freely for the first time in days, the knot in his chest dissipating.

He almost crushed Desmond with a hug, provoking a small laugh.

“Dude, I was gone for… for… for a few days, stop acting like I was in a war or something,” he said finally and lightly tapped Rob on the back. “Let go, I wanna sit.”

Rob did let go, with a momentary reluctance and got a good look on his friend. It was a habit of his since they were little and just getting into training and trouble - scan for injuries first. Desmond looked fine, more or less, maybe a little bit paler than usual, and his gaze wandered a little. As soon as Rob let go, he swayed a little before plopping on the ground with a wince.

“Dude, where’ve you been?” Rob asked, sitting down too. “It’s been days!”

“How many?” Desmond suddenly asked and Rob frowned.

“It’s Friday now, it’s been five full days since the whiskey,” he said slowly. “Desmond, what happened?”

Desmond shrugged, leaning against the tree with another wince and draping an arm over his eyes. “I was in the Box,” he finally answered.

Oh. Rob knew the place, was there with Desmond once, kinda long ago, when they got caught stealing cookies by Maria and were put there to wait for their fathers. It wasn’t really a box, just a small room with an equally small adjacent bathroom. It was eerie, dark, with the only light being the one coming from the small, grey-tinted bathroom window, nothing but a sleeping bag to sit on and pretty much no sound but his and Desmond’s breathing, because the walls were soundproofed. It has only been a couple of hours, but Rob was still uncomfortable remembering it.

“Wait, you’ve been there for the whole time?” he asked, incredulously. When Desmond didn’t answer, he shook his head. “Dude...That’s long. They didn’t let you out at all? What about food?”

“Nah, they didn’t,” Desmond replied in tired monotone. “They don’t talk to me when I’m in the Box. And I was fed, once a day, not that it helped a lot. They got me oats, you know I hate those. I ended up barfing most of them up anyway.”

Rob silently got up, trying and failing to imagine how it could feel - alone, in the dark, no sense of time, no food, just darkness, and walls and your own breathing. It felt nauseating, Moving over to his stash, he pulled out a couple of protein bars. When he turned back, Desmond was already lying on the ground, eyes still closed. Rob tossed the bars on his chest.

“Eat,” Rob said, settling down again.

“Thanks. Don’t worry, It’s fine,” Desmond said forcefully, starting to unwrap the first bar. “At least I didn’t need to train with the mess on my back, that’d be shitty.”

Rob stilled “What mess?” he asked slowly. Instead of answering, Desmond just sat upright with a wince and pulled at his t-shirt. making it ride up. His back was painted with welts, most of them already yellow, but some looking like they’d barely scabbed over. The nausea returned in full force.

“Your father did that?” he blurted out, and Desmond sighed, letting the thin cotton fall down again.

“Yep. Speaking of which, I should probably go,” he said with regret, looking at his watch. “He and mom are out of the house, but I think they’ll be back soon.”

Rob nodded and got up first, grabbing Desmond by the wrist and pulling him to his feet.

The short walk back to the Farm was filled with the crackling of the wrap, as Desmond devoured the bars and asked after others in-between the bites. Rob answered, giving him as much info as he knew, and suddenly realized, that others mostly got out as easy as him. Colin had it a little rough with his strict mom, but otherwise, everyone was… fine. Even Maisie's father decided it was a clever enough prank to be treated as such. Don't do it again, no dessert for a couple of weeks, and that's all.

Desmond hummed, closing his eyes for a moment. "Good," he said. "I probably won't be coming to our place in some time."

"What? Why?" Rob asked, frowning.

"Dad said if I have enough time to steal bottles and give my peers the alcohol poisoning, that means I have enough time for more training and chores,” Desmond shrugged. “So… Not really sure if I'd have long enough broken to come over."

Robert wanted to reply, but they have already stepped out of the woods behind Desmond’s house. His window on the second floor, looking out to the forest was wide open.

"Gimme a boost?" Desmond asked and Rob nodded, standing with his back to the wall and locking his hands. Desmond stopped and looked around again. Rob could only see a part of his face, but he could tell longing in Desmond’s eyes. Longing and anger.

"You know what?" Desmond said, turning back. He stepped into Rob's personal space, warm brown eyes shining feverishly. His mouth was twisted into an almost hateful sneer. "Fuck the rules."

He then stepped up and Rob boosted him without thinking, confused by this sudden change of attitude. When he glanced up, Desmond was already in, looking out of the window, face all hard lines, jaw set.

"Fuck. The. Rules," he repeated before disappearing into the house without a goodbye.

Rob stayed, frozen to the spot for a few moments, and then turned around and walked away. There was some new emptiness inside him, and he suddenly felt very tired. He could still see Desmond’s angry face in his mind.

William Miles passed him by, cold and confident as ever, and Rob stopped abruptly, every hair on his head standing up. He thought of yellow bruises and red welts, of a dark, empty room, how all he needed to do was be at home in 1900 hours instead of 2100.

Why was William so harsh on Desmond? Wasn’t beating and five days in the Box enough of a punishment?

“Nothing is true, everything is permitted,” a little voice in the back of his head reminded him. Rob scoffed and shook his head.

Maybe everything was permitted, he thought defiantly. But this shouldn't be.

part 5

ao3 link

#Assassin's Creed #Desmond Miles #Assassin's Creed Fanfic #assassin's creed oc #william miles #oh look maria miles is here #and she is fine with her son being beaten #i honestly feel dead #tw: child abuse #tw: torture #tw: alcohol #tw: abuse #tw: physical abuse #tw: emotional abuse

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pisati · 6 years

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I’ll admit, it’s sometimes a little hard to know where I stand with you. I do take your reassurances at face value, of course, and I know I often need reminding. but I also try to remember that you’ve been through a hell of a lot emotionally. I only know what you’ve told me; I don’t have your lived experiences. there’s a lot that you’ve gone through that I don’t even know about, and you don’t have to tell me about it-- it’s enough to know it happened. I can’t expect you to be as open about emotion as I am, or even able to feel things like I do (and I’ve been pretty dulled myself). maybe I’ve been reading you wrong at times; it’s hard to, especially through text. but I can hear it in your voice sometimes, I think. something flat. could be exhaustion, could be everything. of course I forgive your lacking in reciprocal effort; I appreciate all that you do give me. I know you’re trying, and you’re trying because you want to, not because you think I expect you to. it’s not easy. but you know as well as I do that shrugging everything off and staying in the emotionless void isn’t healthy for you.

from what I can at least guess about you, you’re a genuinely kind and caring person who has had a lot of his emotional innocence, so to speak, torn from him. you’re right: your emotion isn’t worthless. but that’s something you have to internalize yourself. I’ve been in similar dark places, but I don’t think it’s near to the degree you have. not that pain is a competition; it’s not. I just know that I can’t fully understand the things you’ve been feeling, or... not feeling. regardless, I know you know it’s not healthy and you want to move forward from it, and I’m glad to be there for you while you work through it. that’s a kindness I think anyone dealing with trauma deserves. I also very much appreciate that we can have both silly and serious conversations; even just following my blog you already know more about me than a lot of my irl friends. you’ve become someone I also care very much about and I don’t like seeing you in pain-- though of course it’s not my place to do more than I can, or more than you want me to. I’d still like to be there for you regardless.

---

anywho! travel plans. like I said, most of the issue is logistics. I’m looking at potential flights and I think a reasonable roundtrip is about 9 days; including 2 for travel, that’s a full week for adventuring. I’m flexible, of course, but I’m not the one with a job, lol. I don’t know what airlines would be best (though I did just find a flight on Icelandair, one 55m stop in Keflavik, July 10-19, for $1100 roundtrip), so if you wanna help out with searching you’re more than welcome to take a look yourself. I’d prefer shorter layovers if possible; none of those 27h total trips, lmao. nothing’s direct from Dulles unfortunately, but it is a major international hub, like JFK, so often I’ll be able to find flights to other major destinations from here. which is gr8, because it’s literally a 10-15 minute drive from my house. we have two other major airports here: Reagan national and BWI. personally I prefer Dulles because it’s closer, but if you can find a cheaper and/or direct flight out of the other ones, I’ll find a way to get there lol.

I’m going to be in PA for farm jam from, likely, July 3-7th. I’ll have to see how I feel about what day I’m coming home. I may or may not want to stay til the 8th. but anyway I don’t want to leave on an international flight *too* soon after I get home. I’ll have to drive 4 hours home after spending 4 days camping in the woods on a farm, unpack from camping, and then pack again, and I only have so much energy. I’ve done it before (got back from Iceland and drove to PA the next morning), but it’s not terribly fun. I think if I can make myself come home on the 7th, or at least early on the 8th, I can leave the 10th at the earliest. I’m going to look at July 10-19 as my reference, since that’s also one of the cheapest roundtrips that I can find (for some reason wednesdays are cheaper traveling days?), but those days might change a little. I’ll let you know if I decide on something for sure, but if you want to look up Airbnbs (or if you can find cheaper flights, lmao), you’re welcome to use the 10-19th as a general reference point as well.

I have no qualms about Airbnbs. it would be easier booking-wise to get the flight and hotel together, but I’m cool with having a little place out of the city for the week. the genuine experience, as you say, lol. the coast would be lovely, but I’ll take whatever you find that you like! I’ll leave that to your expertise. are we splitting the cost for that, or.. how do you want to do that?

as far as itinerary, I’m down for everything. I got real excited about that owl sanctuary, lol. anything with animals is great with me. can we see highland cattle too?? I do know I’m gonna want to check out one or two of the record stores in Glasgow; I think that’s my new Travel Thing, lol. going to a city, checking out the record stores. gotta bring records home. that’s my kinda souvenir. everything else, I’m down for too! I love learning about history, seeing old churches and castles, historical sites, all that jazz. I love the sound of that island too! I totally get what you mean about not doing all the typically touristy stuff. I mean, I live just outside Washington DC. I know the tourist traps are a waste of time and money and they’re not the ~real experience~. I love the sound of not taking the beaten path, though. and how often do you have a personal local tour guide? lmao

the only worries I have, really, are my energy levels and my traveling anxiety. neither of those are your responsibility, but they do affect me literally every time I travel, even if I think they won’t.

the anxiety has its roots in my emetophobia, for sure. for some reason my brain feels like the worst thing that could possibly happen is me getting sick while I’m traveling, and then of course I get nervous about it, and what accompanies the nervousness? nausea. shit writes itself. I know it happens, I’m very conscious of it, but that doesn’t stop it. I’ll bring klonopin as a security blanket, likely won’t need it, but mostly what helps is just, like, making sure I eat something, lol. I don’t tend to eat much when I travel anyway, but not eating tends to make the problem worse and I need something in my stomach, obviously. being distracted helps too. something to focus on, someplace to go or see. I’ll let you know how I’m feeling, though, so don’t worry about needing to check in on me. I’m not a nervous wreck all the time.

then there’s the energy levels. I have no earthly way of knowing what they’re going to be like in July. right now I don’t have much energy to do much of anything, but sometimes, especially if I’m subconsciously nervous, I won’t have an off switch. and sometimes I say “not a lot of energy” but I push myself anyway and surprise myself. it’s incredibly hard to predict my day-to-day now, without the traveling nerves, and it’ll be almost impossible to predict from now if something in my medical future changes. so, basically, it’s something to keep in mind but nothing to control for.

I’m pretty low-energy in general, but I can walk a good bit, so don’t worry about pushing me! I’ll let you know what I can handle. it’s probably safe to put one big thing in a day, 2-3 tops if they don’t have much travel time between them. better to leave time open to fit in more things anyway than to over-book and not be able to get to them all. I never know what my sleep’s going to be like, but I can almost guarantee it’s going to be terrible. it usually is when I travel. this also isn’t your responsibility, so don’t let me wreck your sleep schedule for when you have to get back to work, lol. I’m fine staying up late by myself if I’ve got wifi or if I bring a book or something; I can’t expect you to have the same crazy erratic sleep schedule as traveling-me. I’ll let you know if something is or isn’t okay, what I’m up for, all that good stuff. so I’d say definitely plan in all the stuff you want to do plus a few record shops, but leave some wiggle room for late starts, fitting more things in, or the possibility that I might not be able to get to everything in a day. not saying I’ll be struggling that hard, but wiggle room is always good so no one is disappointed lol

anyways I have no worries that it’ll be a great trip 😊literally everything you mentioned sounds wonderful, and I’m already excited! I do worry slightly that we still barely know each other and have never spoken face to face, lol. but I’m sure that’ll happen in due time before July. it’s one thing to meet an internet stranger in your city, but in another country? as a solo female traveler that does make me nervous. I like to think I have a pretty decent sense of the kind of person you are, but you really never know. it’ll certainly help ease my mind to get to know you better over the course of the next few months.

also... I don’t want to alarm you and I’m probably not supposed to tell you at all, but I’d rather be upfront about it. the background check I’m currently undergoing for my [future] job requires me to inform them of every non-US citizen I have “close and continuing contact” with. you and I weren’t talking yet when I filled out the background check form, but I do have to keep them updated or risk losing my chance at the job. they won’t do anything with the information I give them; everyone has friends and family in other countries, and the US doesn’t have any beef with Scotland that I’m aware of, lol. but I will need to give them basic information, especially if I’m leaving the country to visit. I would have to do it even if I weren’t planning on visiting and we kept talking, but this seems like an appropriate time to bring it up, lol. this is standard procedure for federal background checks here; literally everyone trying to get a cleared job has to do it. the form itself is open-source, the PDF is the top result on google, and I can send it to you so you can see exactly what they ask me to provide, if you’d like. I’m not going to ask you for more information than what you’ve given me, and they do take “I don’t know” as an answer. if it’s not okay with you at all, though, then we’ve got some major problems.

soooooo with that out of the way, lmao

if I think of anything else I’m sure I’ll bring it up when I think of it. the only question I might have right now is what should I bring, besides the essentials? a book, maybe. a crochet thing? perhaps? laptop? (probably no on that one, though, right?) uhhhh power adapters? the electrical plugs are definitely different there, yeah? any american things I can pack into a suitcase that you’d like me to bring? lol

speaking of american things. I’ve already got a small list of little things I could pack into a box and ship out there and I think you’ll like them!! how do you feel about sweets? I’m not talking junk food per se, like all the ridiculous candies we have here. just sweet in general? and I know you said not spicy, but how about seasoning? what kinds of seasonings do you like and dislike?

I’ll start looking into flights more seriously soon, as long as you’re okay with the background thing. I can’t give you too many details about all that, mostly because I don’t have them, but we can absolutely talk about it if it’s a concern.

so, yes. let me know when you have time to talk and we can start planning 💕

#oops it's kinda long sry

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radramblog · 3 years

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Album Discussion: ANThology (or: A return to my roots)

Those who have been with this blog for the long haul, or who’ve scrolled down all the way to the first couple posts, may recall that there is exactly one “album discussion” that existed before the daily postings you now know and love. That was the original intent for Me Blogging Online: to do weekly reviews of albums I had on CD. Like, if I got one done a week, it’d only take….four years… to get through all of them. Of course, the only one that actually got uploaded was for Hard-Fi’s Stars of CCTV, which is still a pretty good album.

That is not the first one I wrote, however. The first I wrote is a post that never made it beyond my own eyes. Actually I think I sent it to like one person, but it wasn’t in a completed form. I don’t have convenient access to that review anymore- I’m certain I only saved it as a sticky note on a laptop that may or may not still work- but I sure do have access to the album.

The fact that I haven’t listened to it since might indicate how I feel about it. Because this week, we’re getting a blast from the past in more ways than one- it’s Alien Ant Farm’s ANThology.

God help us all.

I will give AAF credit for one thing- naming the first album Greatest Hits and second one Anthology is exactly the meta shit I like when it comes to album names. I’ve said for a while that if I was ever a musician, I’d name my first album “Self-titled Debut” and the second “Underwhelming Followup”. When I was younger and disliked electronic music as a whole (because I was an edgy teenager) I also thought having an electronic instrumental named “Oxymoron” would be quite funny.

I wouldn’t expect much more praise for them, I’m afraid. Because this album is painfully mediocre early 00s nu-metal, and this is coming from someone who likes that stuff. Our first track, Courage, feels like an offcut from a mid-level Limp Bizkit album- the instrumental is fine, but nothing outstanding, and…look, I don’t know if Dryden Mitchell is a nice guy in real life or not, but it’s kind of hard not to come for his ass here. Because he’s really not a great vocalist. A lot of nu-metal was kind of about being ugly and whiny, and my mans just doesn’t hit either angle. Too clean for the genre but not good enough to succeed despite that.

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Our second track on the album is Movies, one of its three singles and by far AAF’s second most popular song. Don’t worry, we’ll get to the first one. This song feels much more like something you would hear on the radio back in the day- a cleaner version of the kind of sound these bands were known for, that’s acceptable enough for pop/hit stations to play. Because that was relevant in 2001, and I mean that without sarcasm. Honestly, I remember being kinda harsh on this song when I last listened to the album, but it’s mostly just…inoffensive. The lyrics are romantic in a painfully cheesy way, and the performance and instrumental are both functional at the level of a 00s rock track. It’s just…really forgettable. Its blandness is kind of its downfall, I’m afraid.

Speaking of blandness, I kinda have to skip the next few tracks. Because there is just so little to take from them. Flesh and Bone (Track 3) is at least trying to do something a bit more interesting in the instrumentation in the verses, with this staggered, staccato bit which isn’t bad, but lets it all go in the verse/bridge. Much like Courage felt like an unreleased LB track, Whisper (Track 4) has a bit of a Deftones vibe, but it just makes me want to listen to Around the Fur again Or just loop My Own Summer, because that song fucks, much unlike this album’s 5th track, Summer. And I have actual nothing to say about Sticks and Stones (Track 6). I always feel bad when I’m jumping through songs like this, but this is a genre I actively like, and yet these songs still manage to blend together into a generic sludge.

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So we’re going to reach the second single, Attitude. I actually really like the guitar melody this song opens up on, and the way it cuts back into just drums to begin the first verse. Genuinely, the instrumentation on this song is simple, trying to suit the more low-mood of the track, and it actually works. Unfortunately, considering it’s trying to be a more lyrics-driven, emotional track, this is where Dryden’s delivery really lets the whole thing down. If you don’t mind me ruining this entire album: he does a thing where he ends a lot of lines with a little “-ah”, and it’s really noticeable in this track’s chorus. And it gets extremely grating when you notice it. I’d genuinely like to hear a cover of this song, because I do think the non-vocal aspects are solid (well maybe the lyrics are a bit shite), but as it is, I can’t say I give this one a pass.

My plan was to cut ahead to the third and final single on this album, but there’s another song on here that randomly has more listens than Attitude despite not being a single- Track 9, Wish. You weren’t missing much on Track 8. Wish is at least an excuse to say another nice thing about this album and band- they’re clearly trying to do a bunch of different things within the space of the album. The guitarwork on Wish’s verses has that chugging tone reminiscent of System of a Down, and the track as a whole is definitely one of the better ones. The…bridge? I think? Is kind of godawful, though, if I’m honest. This is a track that I think needed a couple extra passes, and could have been great if it got them, but as it is is just kind of eh.

So all of this begs the question. Why the fuck am I talking about this album? I mean, it’s because it’s the first album I really ever wrote about, but beyond that- why did I write about it all that time ago? I think it actually might have been two years ago, when I decided to do that, and since then I’ve learned a lot about how I like to write about music, what music I like to write about, et cetera. But when I first started, I didn’t have a fucking clue what I was doing, I was basically doing things on a whim. So why this album? Why Anthology?

Well, that’s because of Track 12, which I guarantee you’ve heard before. And if you haven’t, then I’m so, so fucking glad I get to introduce you to this.

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That’s right, these guys are the ones who did the Smooth Criminal cover. And they own that shit. It’s the most popular song they’ve ever done by an order of magnitude, two orders more popular than the album as a whole, and the one-hit-wonder that brought them up and brought them low.

The difference between this cover and the rest of the album is utterly jarring. Smooth Criminal was always a very good, very funky song, but this translation has such an incredible bouncy energy that it’s hard not to get into it. And I can tell you right now that nothing else on the album sounds like this. It’s kind of surprising- like you’d think a band’s one cover would be roughly in the same style as the rest of their work, but while this is undoubtedly a Nu Metal Smooth Criminal, it just has a power and swagger about it that would have been lovely to see for the rest of it.

I guarantee if you’ve heard of this band it’s because of this cover. It’s how I knew about them. If you want a more big-brain analysis of the whole thing, probably check out Todd in the Shadows’s video about the track, because it’s better researched and more nuanced from someone with more music knowledge than I. But what I can tell you is that it’s clearly the best track on the album, and it’s not particularly close.

And that’s the album. Well, no it isn’t, there’s still Universe and the bonus track, one of the few I can remember where Spotify doesn’t just separate it out from the last song. Universe is actually pretty okay, surprisingly grim-sounding which I do like, and the hidden song (“Orange Appeal”) kinda sounds like a remix of something from the Left 4 Dead 2 soundtrack. But It might as well be the end of the album. Like, Smooth Criminal is why we’re all here, right? I suppose putting it so close to the end was a good move to make people actually listen to the album, but you do risk people zoning out through the album’s dregs.

Anthology is kind of the ur-example of a one hit wonder band’s album that…kind of deserved it. A lot of the time, you find a one hit wonder, and it’s like dang, they’ve actually got some really good stuff that deserves time in the spotlight (e.g. The Veronicas, The Raconteurs arguably Franz Ferdinand), but Alien Ant Farm…kind of aren’t one of them, based on this. I think it is extremely telling that the most recent output by the band- a 2020 single that’s the first new music from them since a 2015 album that isn’t even on Spotify- is another cover, of Wham!’s Everything She Wants. It’s decent? Like, better than most of Anthology easily.

The long and short is, you can probably miss this album completely with the exception of Smooth Criminal and be completely fine. Even if you are into this genre, you can probably miss it, unless you’re really hunting for new material. It’s a forgettable album, unfortunately, which isn’t great when it contains your one hit track.

And yet I think this is still less harsh than I was the last time I wrote about this record. I remember jumping around a lot more, and going in way harder on the vocals. I remember slagging off the actual album cover and lyrics booklet (it’s real bad!), because the idea was I was talking about the whole CD package as well as the music. But I also remember not having as much to compliment, so I suppose maybe I’ve matured a bit. I’d like to think that. Maybe at some point I’ll try and dig up the old original ramble, but for now, I’m happy for this to be my final word on Alien Ant Farm.

#ramble #music #nu metal #alien ant farm #anthology #its fine?

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amndntchpr · 6 years

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Unpopular opinion (the 100 edition) : on why we shouldn’t hate S3 Bellamy this much.

Clickbait title ? Maybe. Most titles are after all. But honestly though, in the days coming to the S5 premiere I’ve been rewatching every episode, once a day, and I’m now towards the end of season 3.

Having already seen the series at least once, knowing what happens in S3 and later in S4, I wanted to give a very special attention to Bellamy’s character, because I remember how hated he was for everything he did in S3, and I know I hated him too. Now, I’m not pretending to be a psychiatrist, or a TV show critic. This is just my own opinion, on why Bellamy did what he did.

First, we have to go back to the season 2 finale. Last episode, we all remember that Clarke was left with no other choice to save her people than pulling that lever and irradiating every single person in Mt Weather (yes Jasper, maybe you could’ve killed the president, but there were no guarantee that you could do it or that it would change anything...). Anyway, we tend to vividly remember Clarke pulling that lever, because she had the idea first, and because she then chose to leave camp for months. And as heartbreaking as it must’ve been for Clarke, we shouldn't forget that there was a hand above Clarke’s on that lever. Bellamy’s. Together. Yes, it’s sweet, it means he supports her etc etc, it’s been a great fuel for Bellarke shippers ever since (which I am). But more than that, it meant that he took on a part of this burden, and that they shared the responsibility and the guilt, together. That they could face the consequences, if they stick together in what was next. And in that sense, Clarke leaving camp at the end of season 2 felt like a first treason for Bellamy. But he let her go and didn’t blame her, because he understood she needed time alone. And after that moment, it’s like Bellamy came up with a sort of mantra ‘I will not let anyone else I care about die if I have the means to save them’. Remember that, because this will become of increasing importance in the season to come.

Back to season 3. The season starts with 2 episodes where Bellamy is more than willing (I’d say pretty desperate) to find Clarke, and her running for her life. He finally finds her, and the hard past few months seem to be past them. But they are separated, Bellamy is hurt and has to return to camp, and Clarke is taken by Roan to Lexa in Polis.

Now, this in itself was a setback and felt like a failure for Bellamy. He promised himself that he would protect his people, and failing Clarke, who was perhaps the most important of his people (for him and for the rest of Skaikru) was hard. But he went back to camp, to heal. Remember that in ep 3, when they arrived to Mt Weather and he saw Pike and all of Farm station comfortably settled, he wasn’t happy about it. Same episode, this is where it all goes to shit. He receives word of a threat for Echo, leaves Gina at Mt Weather and speeds to Polis to once again save Clarke, Kane, Abby, everyone at the summit. But of course, it was a set up, and he was betrayed. That hurt. Seconds later, he finds out that everyone but Raven & Sinclair, including his girlfriend (given we didn’t really have time to care about her, but she must’ve meant a lot to him) had been blown up at Mt Weather. And from here on : rage, guilt, despair, all over again. He couldn't save his people. And then, when he asks Clarke to come back to her people, the only think that could help him, and everyone at camp, she refuses and choses to stay with Lexa. Now, I love Clarke, I think she’s a great leader who does and takes on a lot to save her people. She probably thought that staying behind in Polis was what was best for her people, but I personally think that’s one of the biggest mistake she ever made. Had she gone back to Arkadia, I think that A. Pike would’ve never been elected chancellor, and B. Bellamy wouldn’t have joined the dark side. But that’s just speculation. For him, it was more than jealousy or that he missed Clarke, it was that when he needed her the most, but the whole camp needed her to come back, she refused, and that hurt him.

So from that point on, it was bad decision after bad decision. And I’m not trying to fully excuse what he did, because massacring an army of 300 ppl, all the more when they were sent to protect you, is never okay. But I will try to maybe explain why he made these choices, which can be considered quite out of character, reason why it shocked us all. If you look closely at every scene of Bellamy in these 5 episodes or so (yes, only 5 episodes where he was a dick ! Not the whole season !), like I did, you will see that everything he does, more than acting in revenge or spite, he does because he genuinely thinks it’ll save some people. He’s wrong, obviously, but we are omniscient viewers while he’s just a heart-broken skaikru member, who has already been betrayed by Lexa and hasn’t forgotten it ! And on that note enters that royal SOB, Pike. Let’s face it, the dude was sketchy from the start. Okay, he and the farm station had pretty bad first encounter with the grounders when they first landed, but for a teacher, he was surprisingly stubborn and incapable of learning and broadening his horizons... That’s one thing we can all agree on, Pike was an asshole.

And after that, it’s like Pike poisoned everyone of Bellamy’s thoughts, giving him a false sense that he would protect their people in a way that Abby and Kane wouldn’t be able to. That he was willing to do what was necessary to keep safe. And I might be repeating myself here, but that’s all Bellamy has ever wanted. Even while under the influence of Pike, he’s often the only one that we see contesting (often before yielding though) Pike’s ideas when he deems them too harsh or violent. But Pike always had the right word to reassure him, and convince that his way was the best. Bellamy wanted to spare the wounded on the battlefield, he convinced Pike to spare Indra, he argued when they wanted to wipe out that grounders village to make some plantations. Not saying that excuses all the rest, but Bellamy was never truly gone or just brainwashed, he was aware of every decision he made, but made them anyway because he thought it best.

And maybe that’s just Bob’s acting abilities, but watching closely all of these scenes, you could see that he wasn't happy about the decisions he made. But it’s that role of protector, first with his sister, then the 100 that he shared with Clarke, that all of his people, that lead him to a dark path. With Clarke gone, and having to assume this role on his own, the measures he took had to be extreme. No time to grieve, a whole lot of people that he couldn’t let die, and a manipulative, backstabbing mother-f****r that what whispering in his ear. That’s all it took. It’s a shame, it really is, but it came from good intentions (and pain).

Fortunately, he (along with Monty, who I feel was somehow instantly forgiven even though A. he armed the system that killed everyone in Mt Weather and B. he also worked for Pike ?) came back to his senses when Pike ordered the execution of Kane. It was then he realized he’d taken things too far. Kane has been nothing less than extraordinary the whole of season 3, and I so wish he could’ve come through with Bellamy earlier. These two have a special relationship, almost paternal, based on advice and respect (mostly), and it was something Bellamy just couldn’t let happen. Because he cared for Kane, but also because it was against the one thing he was trying to achieve : keeping everyone safe. After that, we all know how it went, he tried to act to save Kane, Sinclair, and Lincoln, couldn’t save Lincoln, was blamed for his death (understandably) and felt mostly guilty and terrible for the rest of season 3.

He had lost his sister, lost the respect of many people including possibly Kane and most people of Arkadia, lost himself. He had tried to take matters into his own hands, and had failed, by trusting the wrong person, and in doing so influencing a lot of people to trust Pike. I do believe that, were it not for Clarke showing him that she personally forgave him and still trusted him, he would’ve been lost. A bit late for the Clarke wise speech perhaps, but it shows that her opinion is invaluable to him, and that he’s not inherently bad, just lost. Anyways, I think we saw in season 4 that he’s still a good guy, and I’m glad that I got to rewatch these episodes, it showed me than there was more to his story and it showed me a new depth of the character.

#the 100 #the 100 season 3 #bellamy blake #clarke griffin

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haydennation · 7 years

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Nylon Guys Magazine Interview

By the time Hayden Christensen suggests that we hop on a couple of snowmobiles and go explore the extent of his 200 acre farm, it’s getting dark outside and the temperature is 10 degrees below freezing. The two hour drive from downtown Toronto up here into bleak, rural Ontario had taken close to four in a rented Toyota Corolla, the last 15 minutes of which were essentially tobogganing down roads closed to all but local traffic. Traffic was invariably composed, I noticed as I slid helplessly down tracks entirely covered in packed ice, of vehicles with very large tires and four wheel drive. Christensen purchased the farm, which is just up the road from his parents; home where he grew up, eight months previously. It’s his first house, and he’s clearly proud of it. “I did those,” he says, gesturing at his kitchen cabinets that are painted so that they appear cracked and aged, and launching into an explanation of the process-‘it takes forever but it sure is worth it.’ He has also tiled the surfaces, painted the walls, replaced the floors, and amassed a healthy collection of antiques from the shops in the surrounding villages, which are scattered throughout the house. Christensen, who was born in Vancouver, is a hands-on kind of guy; the sort who likes to chop wood and rear animals, build decks and grout, hike, fish, ride horses, grow crops, and construct barns. He’s most certainly not predisposed to sitting around and talking about himself and so far now it’s on with full body snowsuits, snowboots, touks as Canadians call beanies, gloves, and goggles and off to an outhouse to start up the snowmobiles. He seems excited, as if he’s waited all day for an excuse to get out there. Out in the barn, though, where he keeps his snowmobiles, ATVs and tractor (“I’m just learning how to use that-it’s harder than it looks”) there’s a problem. One of the machines won’t start. Christensen is crestfallen. “Man, this really sucks,” he says as he pulls one lever after the other on the sleek black machine. “I suppose we’ll have to go on the same one.” It’s a situation that raises an important question; just what am I supposed to hold on to? In the absence of any handles the only options are the actor’s waist or shoulders. I opt for the latter. “Ok, man,” he yells as the engine roars to life, “remember to lean when I lean, and hold on.” It’s been snowing for the past few weeks, but the clouds have parted for the time being and the bright halogen headlights of the snowmobile illuminate fresh powder, at least three feet deep, ahead of us. We fly through open gates, following a recently made trail (“My family came over yesterday,” he shouts. “We hitched a trailer to the tractor and took it out for a picnic”) impressed on the ground. On a gentle slope lie two discarded sleds, one pink one and one blue. (“We were going down the hill on those yesterday.” He says. “Very fun” ) Eventually we get to the top of the hill-Christensen takes off his goggles and stops the engine. “That’s the highest part of my land,” he says, with a grin, “and the highest in the county actually.” At the base of the hill evergreen wildwoods stretch, oblique and forbidding, across the countryside. In the dwindling light the snow, which lies very thick on ever fence-post, branch, and thorn bush, has taken on a blueish hue and the sky-the dark silver of mercury-seems to rest heavily on the land; the moon a chalky thumbprint. Every few miles, off in the distance, the warm lights of a house glow sleepily and implacably against encroaching darkness. “You see that clearing?” says Christensen, pointing to a pale spot a few miles into the woods. “That’s the boundary of my land. There’s a river that marks it, Isn’t it great? I really want to go down there and show you some more. There are trails that I haven’t been on this winter yet, they’d be fun.” And so we head back to the house, where he calls his dad, who informs him where the choke is on the other machine, and what to do with it. Now, with a working snowmobile each, we tear across unblemished snow and down into the forest. Christensen leading and ducking this and that to avoid the low hanging boughs of trees that are covered in snow that scatters like glitter as he passes. “Man.” He says as I pull up next to him by a copse of Douglas Firs, “how fun is this?” “I really want to do everything with the farm,” he says later, sitting one of two large white couches in his living room. The only light is coming from his 60 inch plasma TV showing a hockey match on mute, five or so large church candles, their wax dripping in pools around them, and the fire crackling in the hearth. “There will be dairy cows and probably some sheep. Maybe an alpaca-I hear they’re good for warding off predators. For some reason lavender really appeals to me. I’d like to grow a lot of Lavender. I think that front hay field I want to turn into a big lavender field. Apparently, it’s pretty easy to maintain.” He takes a long drag on his cigarette. “But it’s meant to be a bitch to harvest-you have to cut it all by hand.”

These are the words of a man entirely at ease with himself. Someone, who rich from the success of a starring role in the biggest franchise in movie history, can choose what projects he wants to do and when he wants to do them, and make all his decisions from right here on his couch, watching hockey. (he played competitively until he was 17. “A lot of the guys I played with are pro now”, in front of the fire in the middle of nowhere. “I had a lot of success really quickly but then I was happy not to have anything to do with it.” He says. “I need to not live the insulated life that I think a lot of the people in Hollywood live. I had a really odd relationship with my first agent, because he could never figure out why I wasn’t in L.A. and taking advantage of opportunities there. Star Wars was financially beneficial and all of a sudden I didn’t have a need for my next check and I got to look at acting and my work as really just sort of my own creative expression, and nothing else is really going to affect that. I was turning down what would be considered a lot of money because it wasn’t creatively what I wanted to do at the time.” Today Christensen is such a far remove from Hollywood that it’s easy to forget that he’s still an incredibly in demand actor with the ability to secure lead roles in big budget movies, should he want them. And while his interests mostly lie in developing smaller scale projects like 2003’s Shattered Glass-based on the story of the New Republic journalist Stephen Glass who invented a large percentage of the stories he wrote for the magazine-that Christensen starred in and produced with his brother. His latest project, the Doug Liman directed “Jumper” in which he plays a man with the ability to teleport, is nothing, if grand in scope. “When my agent first called about it. He was like, ‘so there’s this big Fox movie, science fiction, they possibly want to turn it into a franchise,’ and I was like ‘why are we talking about this? Don’t you remember those other movies I just did?” He’s laughing, spluttering over his cigarette. “Then he said “Doug Liman was directing it, I was like “Oh! I was a huge fan of his movies.” In Jumper, Christensen and fellow teleporter Jamie Bell find themselves in the middle of a war that has been going on for hundreds of years between the jumpers (of which there are evidently quite a few) and those who have sworn to kill them; a group led by Samuel L Jackson. Taking place all over the world (We even closed down the Colosseum for three days to shoot a scene”) the film is full of Wachowski brothers-like visual effects and dramatic camera angles. At first it might seem an odd choice for an actor who says he chooses his movies if “there’s something inside me that needs to play the character and needs to be part of the story”. But working with Liman, who insisted Christensen be part a part of a process of ‘figuring the movie out’ wasn’t an opportunity the actor was prepared to pass up. “I felt like I was working with another visionary filmmaker,” Christensen continues. “George Lucas was clearly one of those, and I feel like Doug is too.” Of course George Lucas is the reason anyone knows who Christensen is at all. The reason he is able to afford this house, the one he just closed in on in the Bahamas, all the mechanical toys in his big barn, and the fancy paint for his fancy cupboards. Before Star Wars, Hayden Christensen was an unknown actor living in Vancouver and working on a TV show called Higher Ground that aired on the Fox Family Channel. An agent suggested he audition for Star Wars in LA, which was annoying, he recalls, because he wasn’t making that much cash and had to fly himself down there. “The meeting lasted for maybe 10 minutes and George didn’t even mention Star Wars the whole time so I assumed it didn’t go very well. I was like, “Well, shit, I just flew all the way down here.” A month went by and Christensen, along with five other actors of which, reportedly Leonardo Dicaprio was one, were invited back to Lucas’s Skywalker Ranch to read with Natalie Portman. “They made sure we never saw each other,” he says with a smile. “Although, they have guest houses on the ranch and when I went for my audition I stayed in a room that I guess one of the other actors had stayed in as well and there was a voicemail on the phone from his mom saying, “I’m sorry it didn’t go well honey, but don’t worry, something else will happen” I was like ‘one down!” A few months later the call came. But as exciting a project as Star Wars was, as guaranteed as it was to be internationally successful, provoke hero worship among oddly dressed fans around the world, and set box office records, George Lucas is not exactly a director known for bringing out the best in people. He is, let’s not forget, the man who made Harrison Ford, Ewan Mcgregor, and even Alec Guinness look like puppets operated by puppeteers who had flunked out of puppetry school. “There were battle ships being rolled across the soundstages and you got to put a lightsaber in your belt every day: You were a hired hand,” Christensen says. “You weren’t there for your own creative expression. It’s a very specific style of acting and it’s all so preconceived…And the dialogue isn’t the easiest to say.” “Sometimes he would even do line readings with us,” Christensen glancing idly at the hockey score. “I would tell him that it’s easier if I don’t hear someone else saying the line because then I have that in my head and I’m just going to try and do that. And he was like, ‘No that’s ok, that’s what I want you to do.” He takes a drag on his cigarette and rearranges himself on the cushion. “It didn’t allow me to do my best work, nor did it any of the actors, but I always went to work thinking ‘This is the most unique experience’-I was just lucky to be there.” The fame that followed Star Wars would color Christensen’s perception of Hollywood forever. “From the day they made the announcement, there were people camped out in front of the apartment I was staying in,” he says. “I would go to a restaurant and all of a sudden there were paparazzi. It wasn’t something that happened over time and it wasn’t because of the work I was doing. This was all because I had a meeting with someone that no one knew about and because someone else decided they liked the way my nose sat on my face so my life was going to change.” Christensen’s understanding that it was the Star Wars name, not his, that was attracting his attention allowed him a “removed perspective” on it that seems to have endured ever since. “They offered me coaches to help me deal with it, but I felt like that was silly,” he says. “But then later I almost wished that I had met with them, because it was so overwhelming. It just caught me off guard and made me have a real sort of distaste for that because it was so extreme and so foreign that I didn’t enjoy it. I shied away from anything that I didn’t absolutely have to do. Everything just happened so fast and so dramatically that it allowed me to keep my distance.” And Christensen made some sacrifices for the films. Contractually obligated for five years, he once had to turn down a part in an Al Pacino movie in order to re-shoot a few scenes in Star Wars. “That really bummed me out,” he says. “When we wrapped, it was definitely bittersweet-I definitely enjoyed the sense of career freedom when they were over.” One of the projects Christensen took on afterwards was Factory Girl, with Sienna Miller, in which he gave a much-arraigned performance as Bob Dylan. “I wouldn’t mind talking a bit about that because that was not the performance I gave,” he says earnestly. Because of legal reasons Christensen’s character wasn’t called Dylan in the final cut. “I signed up to pay Bob Dylan and it’s a biopic. A true story,” he says. “I learned how to at least pretend to play the guitar and did a scene where I wrote a song and performed it. But later, because he threatened to sue, I had to go in and do ADR, redub my whole performance and change the way my character talked, because I has been doing the Dylan voice. I don’t know what’s onscreen in the end because I never saw it, but I do know it’s very different from what I did, and I was sort of pissed with the people who made the movie.” Far from lamenting his lack of privacy while attending exclusive parties at LAX and Cinespace, relaxing by pools of Hollywood’s most famous hotels, or perhaps grabbing a bite at the Ivy, Hayden Christensen just goes about his business 3000 miles away from all that and I’ve never met an actor who seems more at ease with their lot. “I think I do a pretty good job of staying out of tabloids. Paparazzi don’t come up to the farm ever,” he says. A lot of actors, though they complain about it, secretly relish the attention of the press, I suggest. “Absolutely, I’ve met a lot of them,” he says. “I always have an odd feeling about them. It’s like ‘I don’t know how you could really want that sort of change in your life.’ It’s really foreign to me. I don’t have a computer so I’m not exposed to any of the stuff on the internet. I can’t do that.” Suddenly from upstairs, I hear what sounds, unmistakably like an oink. Christensen hears it too. He smiles. “Oh don’t worry about that. It’s just my pigs.” There’s a scrabbling on the floor above-the unusual sound of trotters on polished wood. “I should probably go up and feed them,” he says, stubbing out his cigarette and stretching-it’s getting on a bit and he is hosting his family for dinner later. “Wanna come see?” Buddy and Petunia are a pair of pygmy pot-bellied piglets that Christensen acquired a few weeks earlier. (“I only wanted one, but apparently they get lonely”) and that are currently living upstairs in his house; running around in the hall, the spare bedroom, and the newly finished bathroom floor, upon which the four of us are now sitting. He leans over and rubs the tiles. “This wasn’t easy,” he says as Buddy climbs up onto his lap to be scratched behind the ears. “You have no idea how hard a simple pattern like this is to do. I cut the tiles myself!” “I feel really content,” he says. “I think for a while I was having a hard time enjoying the privileges I incurred from working and was pretty much living out of a suitcase. I’ve really enjoyed getting to collect toys and having a dirt bike that I can ride. And in my personal life I’m at a healthy place right now with my relationships [Christensen is dating Rachel Bilson whom he met on the set of Jumper]. I’ve done a lot of growing up since I was 19. I’ve learned a lot. And the more I learn the more I realize how little I know. Before, my agents and the people that I’m in contact with for my work wanted me to be something I wasn’t. They wanted me to pursue things I didn’t want to do, but now I feel more comfortable in my own skin.” “I don’t think I’ll ever have the desire to become something else and give up acting,” he continues. He glances out of the window; it’s dark now and his yard-skeletal trees pitched against the wind-is illuminated by Christmas lights wrapped around the fence. “You know there’s enough space down on the other side of the hill to put a landing strip for a little prop plane,” he says wistfully. Both pigs have now climbed onto him and are snuffling into his stomach. “I’m actually going to try and get a pilot’s license.” I read an interview with you from about five years ago in which you said it was a struggle to protect your integrity and dignity in this industry, I say. But you don’t seem to be struggling now. Holding Buddy up so they’re snout to nose, Christensen scrunches up his face to mimic the pig’s. “Well, I think that’s because I did struggle with it before,” he says putting the pig back on the floor, where it promptly falls over. “But now I’ve got no problem with telling them all to fuck off.”

#hayden christensen #nylon guys magazine interview #2008 interviews #interviews

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theultravioletcatastrophe · 7 years

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From the aesthetic ask meme: ALL OF THEM. You're welcome.

ALRIGHTY THEN! Let’s see if I can put this under a break so I don’t clog up anyone’s dash.

flower crown: when did you last sing to yourself?Earlier today. I’m always singing to myself! Today it was probably a song from Moana because my daughter was listening to the soundtrack and those songs just get stuck in my head, y’know?

fairy lights: if a crystal ball could tell you the truth about anything, what would you want to know?Honestly? I want to know the true nature of physical reality. Like, quantum physics can’t be the full picture because there’s a couple places where it’s either broken or incomplete, but so far we haven’t figured out what should replace it as a theory. I wanna know the truth about the universe.

daisies: what is the greatest accomplishment of your life?I wanna say my daughter, but to be quite honest my wife is definitely more responsible for how she turned out than I am, so I can’t really say that. I guess my other greatest accomplishment is retaining some scrap of sanity and decency in this awful world that seems to want to destroy itself at every possible opportunity.

1975: what is the first happy memory that comes to mind, recent or otherwise?I don’t think you can call this a “memory” since it literally just happened, but I finished watching Mysterious Girlfriend X and honestly it made me so happy. Despite the fact that it only covered about half the manga it had a much more satisfying ending, somehow.

matte: if you knew that in one year you would die suddenly, would you change anything about the way you are now living?I mean, probably? I’d probably make an effort to be kinder and more loving. I’d do more to help people. I’d try to save up every cent I could to ensure my family doesn’t have nothing when I’m gone.

black nail polish: do you have a bucket list? if so, what are the top three things?Ehh, not really, not in the sense most people usually use that term. I wanna go to space though. :D

pantone: describe a person close to your life in detail.I wanna describe my mom, but it’s going to make me sad, so I don’t want to right now. Sorry. :(

moodboard: do you feel you had a happy childhood?Yes and no. My parents had a pretty awful divorce when I was about 7, and things stayed weird until I was in high school. But like… I remember being happy and stuff, so…

stars: when did you last cry in front of another person?Last night, when my wife was talking about being sad. I just felt so helpless, like I couldn’t do anything for her, and it made me really sad too.

plants: pick a person to stargaze with you and explain why you picked them.My wife. I shouldn’t have to explain why. :) (I mean gosh come on her url is literally @youwillfindmestargazing)

converse: would you ever have a deep conversation with a stranger and open up to them?I have! Some of the best conversations I’ve had have been with strangers at parties. There’s something so intimate about sitting on a bench on someone’s back porch talking about deep stuff with someone you’ve known for 20 minutes, while people inside are blasting music and screaming, and someone is throwing up in the bushes off to the side.

lace: when was your last 3am conversation with someone, and who were they to you?Oh geez, I don’t have many of those anymore. It was probably with my friend @aboutthreeneps who is one of my best friends ever and I love him. :3

handwriting: if you were about to die, and you could only say one more sentence to one person, what would you say and to whom?“I want you to know how much I love you, and I want you and mama to look after each other, okay?” (which I would say to my daughter)

cactus: what is your opinion on brown eyes?Um, they’re fine? I don’t really care that much about people’s eye colour lol

sunrise: pick a quote and describe what it means to you personally.“[A]lways looked to be a man of action, ‘cause that’s what the old man should have been, but… this world, it wore him out. This world, it wears you out.” This quote is from the song “Man of Action” by Matthew Good Band. This song is basically my theme song and if you’ve been following me for any length of time, you probably understand why.

oil paints: what would you title the autobiography of your life so far?“A Short Study in Fooling Yourself and Everyone Around You”

overalls: what would you do with one billion dollars?I would immediately put half of it into some kind of guaranteed investment like a GIC or even a TFSA if the interest rate was good enough. This would supply my income to live on for the entire rest of my life. The other half would be blown extravagantly on stupid shit I don’t need but really want (and also I’d give a bunch to family and friends and to charity, I’m not a total asshole).

combat boots: are you a very forgiving person? do you like being this way?Yes, and yes. It means you get hurt more often, but it kinda makes things easier.

winged eyeliner: write a hundred word letter to your twelve year old self.Dear Earl, you’re not gonna believe this, but I’m you from 21 years in the future. Listen: don’t waste time pining over Leah or Connie or Katie, it’s not worth it. When you finish high school, learn a skilled trade. Don’t mess things up like I did. Try not to be a disappointment to your mom, and tell her you love her. Most importantly, get organized, manage your time, and DON’T PROCRASTINATE. Sincerely, you, but with more experience.

pastel: would you describe yourself as more punk or pastel?I’m… definitely not punk lol. I’m not really pastel, either, though.

tattoos: how do you feel about tattoos and piercings? explain.I like them to a point. Just… don’t go overboard and you’re fine.

piercings: do you wear a lot of makeup? why/why not?Nope! Mostly due to the fact that society looks down upon masculine-presenting people wearing makeup, but partly also because I have no idea what would look good on my gross face. :P

bands: talk about a song/band/lyric that has affected your life in some way.Well, I mean, Sithu Aye has absolutely been a very positive force in my life ever since I discovered him about a year ago. Please give him a listen, he makes the happiest metal music in the world (without the disgusting vocals!). You can get his entire discography for 30 quid right now! What a steal!

messy bun: the world is listening. pick one sentence you would tell them.“Please stop exploiting other people, the animals, and the earth, because if we keep going like this there’s not going to BE an earth much longer.”

cry baby: list the concerts you have been to and talk about how they make you feel.Other than going to see our city’s symphony orchestra play, I’ve only ever been to a Marianas Trench concert (well, technically, I’ve been to 3 of them). The symphony shows are always amazing but the Trench shows were a total blast. What a great band to see live. I’m actually wearing a shirt I got at their last concert right now!

grunge: who in the world would you most like to receive a letter from and what would you want it to say?I want to receive a letter from the Queen, signed also by the Governor-General and the Prime Minister, authorizing me to do whatever the hell I want for the rest of my life, as long as I’m in Canada.

space: do you have a desk/workspace and how is it organised/not organised?Well, I’m sitting at a desk right now, and it’s a disaster. I have a desk at work as well, which is a bit more organized, but still quite a mess lol.

white bed sheets: what is your night time routine?Browse tumblr until it’s way past my bedtime, brush my teeth while either browsing tumblr some more or reading manga on my phone, crawl into bed and become unconscious for usually no more than 6 hours. Ugh.

old books: what’s one thing you don’t want your parents to know?Nothing, really. My dad and I are pretty chill with each other and I don’t think there’s any secrets I’d want to keep from him (not that I’m going to go telling him everything though, haha). And, well, it’s not like my mom can find out anything she hadn’t already known, so… :x

beaches: if you had to dye your hair how would you dye/style it and why?If I HAD to? I’d go with some crazy cool colour like purple or blue. I’d style it the same way it is now, which is that I towel it off after a shower and flatten out any parts that stick up. Actually, if I had purple hair, I probably wouldn’t even do that. :P

eyes: pick five people to go on an excursion with you. who would you pick and where would you go/what would you do?My wife, my daughter, my IRL friend Ashley, and my tumblr friends Cody and Rachel (yes, you, Rachel). We’d go to a farm just outside town and pick strawberries, and then we’d all have a nice picnic in a field somewhere.

11:11: name three wishes and why you wish for them.-infinite money (should be obvious why)-a hammerspace bag (should also be obvious)-your freedom, Genie (because I’m not a butt)

painting: what is the best halloween costume you have ever put together? if none, make one up.Hmm, I’d have to say the mad scientist costume I did when I was in university. I wore my lab coat from chem lab, I styled my hair to stick straight up from my head (and used this weird hair spray paint stuff to make it silver), and I would burst into rooms going “BWAHAHAHAHAHA!!!”

lightning: what’s the worst thing you’ve ever done while drunk or high?I don’t think I’ve ever done anything really awful while drunk or high. I mean, I don’t normally get drunk/high enough to the point where I start doing truly stupid things. I guess the worst was that time my friend Cory and I split a 26er of vodka between us in the span of like… half an hour, and then we proceeded to smoke a joint of nothing but kief with a bunch of other people. I got WAY too wasted and ended up throwing up on the floor of the guy’s dining room (and afterwards was still too wasted to clean up after myself, so someone did it for me).

thunder: what’s one thing you would never do for one million dollars?There are a lot of things I would never do for a million dollars. Intentionally harming a sentient creature would probably be at the top of the list though.

storms: you on only listen to one song for the rest of your life, or only see one person for the rest of your life. which and why?I’d pick the song one, because there are too many people in my life that I love too much to never see them again. (The song I pick would almost undoubtedly be Oceania by Sithu Aye.)

love: have you ever fallen in love? describe what it feels like to realise you’re in love.Of course! I’ve done it so many times now, I BETTER know what it’s like! To me, falling in love with someone means that you put their own happiness and well-being before your own. It means you want to spend all your time with them, and knowing you wouldn’t get tired of them. Realizing all this about someone is quite exhilirating, and a little scary.

clouds: if you’re a boy, would you ever rock black nail polish? if you’re a girl, would you ever rock really really short hair?I feel like I would have when I was younger, but now, hmmm… now I’m at an age where I don’t think I could “rock” anything anymore! XD

coffee: what’s your starbucks order, and who would you trust to order for you, if anyone?Grande cafe latte with coconut milk. Honestly I’d trust any of my vegan friends to order me something I’d like.

marble: what is the most important thing to you in your life right now?My daughter. I want to make sure she grows up to be a better person than I am. If she grows up to be a better person than her mother, I’ll be pretty astonished, but also extremely proud. She is my life right now. :3

#ask #gravityeyelids #thank you rachel :D #i know you know i love answering every question in these ask memes so thank you for making this legit lol #ask me a thing!

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surveys-at-your-service · 7 years

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Survey #90

“i’d rather die on my feet than live a life on my knees.”

what do you regard as the lowest depth of misery? heartbreak. what is your favorite bird? barn owls. i also love crows and ravens though because they're so smart. how would you like to die? in my sleep, but surrounded by family. i want them to actually know i'm dying so they don't have to deal with the sheer shock of just waking up to me dead. think of your last ten kisses, were they with the same person? no. do you think making out is slutty? no? will you cry at your wedding? i can just about guarantee i will. how many wives or husbands do you want? just one. what were you doing when you found out michael jackson was dead? i was swimming. would you rather vacation by a beach or a lake? lake. what is your father's middle name? john. what's your favorite anime? "fullmetal alchemist." i like both iterations pretty much the same, both the original and "brotherhood." is there always going to be that one person you and a friend makes fun of? no. if you could live for a year with any foreign family, where would you go? germany! are you afraid of living alone? yes. i honestly don't think i could do it. what do you draw more than anything else? meerkats. are you the type who is completely against abortion? why? fuck yes, because you will never get me to believe that a fetus is any more human after it's born. it's a human from the start. have you ever read a book that actually changed your outlook on life? "johnny got his gun" by dalton trumbo, my favorite book. it didn't change my perspective, but it definitely heightened my pacifism. do you brag about being different than everyone else? no, because despite being very different, it embarrasses me. what do you think about william shakespeare’s work? he's great. what would you do if your favorite animal became endangered? i would legitimately cry. i would go into a huge depression if meerkats ever went extinct. what’s your name, anyways? brittany. has anyone ever complimented you on how sweet you can be? yeah. what was the last brutally honest comment you made about someone? like a week ago. a friend of mine posted her fucking self-mutilation pictures on facebook and i called her out on that bullshit. you don't fucking do that. she's honestly a pretty childish person that contradicts herself constantly, but i care for her regardless. do you keep in contact with any of your ex-boyfriends/girlfriends? nope. how was your birthday this year? i was in a mental hospital. guess. lmao. would you like to have a pet horse? if i had a big enough property, definitely. have you read the entire harry potter series? i haven't read a single book. have you seen the deathly hallows? i think so... but i didn't pay attention to it. can you play the piano? no. can you read sheet music? i doubt i could anymore. do you enjoy poetry? absolutely. have you ever written a poem? lots since i was in the 6th grade. angsty shit lol how long is your hair? it's long. like to my shoulderblades, i think longer. do you like the band n*e*r*d? haven't heard of them. would you prefer cherry cola or vanilla cola? cherry coke. i don't like vanilla coke. what is your favorite cover your favorite band has done? "how?", "whiskey in the jar" what is your favorite farm animal? pigs! do you like pictures that are considered “hipster” and “indie”? yeah. if you could rid the earth of one thing, what would it be? rape. do you prefer germ-x or purell? germ-x roses or daisies; which do you prefer? roses. count to ten in another language. eins, zwei, drei, vier, fünf, sechs, sieben, acht, neun, zehn do you like fedoras? i actually do. what's with the hate around them? what band/song reminds you of your childhood? the backstreet boys. have you ever had a cherry martini? no absinthe? no. horchata? no. last time you went to the beach, who’d you go with? colleen and chelsea. favorite flavor for a milkshake? vanilla smoothie? mango. when was the last time someone saw you naked? uhhh. i'm not sure. either my mom did or it's been so long that it was jason. what is the greatest loss you’ve endured? jason where is your favorite place to have sex? i haven't had sex before but i'd assume a bed? what is the “worst” drug you’ve done? are there any you will never try, or any you want to try? uhhh, maybe alcohol? i've never done legitimate drugs. i mean xanax makes doctors p nervous to give out, and i was on that once, but i never abused it. where do you like to be kissed? multiple places? which uncle do you see the most of? uncle rob, mom's younger brother. do you have your family as friends on facebook? yes would you help your best friend hide a body? absolutely not. do you have depression? i do, but it's finally efficiently being treated. what kind of humor suits you more - irony or sarcasm? sarcasm, i think. so long it's not hateful. who is your favorite that 70’s show character? hyde and kelso! but i love eric too. did you enjoy middle school or did it suck? worst three years of my life. have you ever done anything with a guy that you now regret? i regret kissing one, but nothing crazy. if you were to dye your hair, what color would you dye it? i currently want galaxy hair. what is your favorite energy drink, if you have a favorite at all? i don't like like 99% of energy drinks. do you know someone who threatens to kill themselves? all the time. but she does it in a way that is very obviously crying for attention, not support. would you ever completely dye your hair the color green? no. i don't like green in general, but especially as a hair color. do the people in your town speak like rednecks? some do. what kind of pie do you like the best, if you like it at all? i don't like pie. have you ever thought of making love in a dressing room? no, sounds uncomfortable. what is your favorite movie of all time? burton's version of "alice in wonderland" what is your favorite restaurant to go in and eat at? olive garden. are there any lamps on in the room that you’re currently in? a guitar lamp. salt & vinegar, barbecue, sour cream & onion, or cheddar? hmmm. salt & vinegar. have you ever died in one of your dreams? i have. which is tastier: fruity gum or minty gum? fruity do you believe in demonic possession? how about ghosts? angels? i'm iffy with demonic possession. anything boys can do, girls can do better - agree or disagree? your gender doesn't determine how well you do anything. have you ever punched someone and broke their nose? no. has a stray dog ever tried to bite you? no have you ever tried yoga? yeah. lost 40 pounds doing it some years ago. do you like the font century gothic? sure. bulbasaur, charmander, or squirtle? charmander, of course. does it scare you that even after getting a college education that not even that can guarantee you a career? it's fucking horrifying. do you own a lot of graphic tees, solid colored ones, or more so just tops? tops and graphic tees. any specific movie that you wish you could have a love like? [ex: the notebook, allie and noah] the notebook. obviously. but SPOILER, without the dementia END SPOILER. can you remember ever feeling like someone stole your idea or took credit for something that was your work? if not, can you remember a time when you introduced a friend to something and they sort of began acting like they know more about it than you? it's happened multiple times to me. if you were to ever imagine getting married, do you think you have a lot of people that would invite to your showers and actual wedding? or is it more like you’d be inviting long-lost family members and hoping for the best? i'd only invite close friends and family. regarding your current or former high school, what is something that you really felt your school was lacking or what is something you would change about your high school? you couldn't do something as little as even hugging. but besides that, our principal was fucking awful. choose a male friend of yours. will you please describe him in a way that might convince me he’d be a good person to date? he's a totally intelligent nerd and remarkably loyal. very funny. if I handed you a voucher for a free tattoo from a renowned tattoo artist, but it had to be redeemed within 24 hours, would you use it? i'd fucking scream in joy and then do it immediately lol when you are at a place where people are dancing and people are seated/mingling, like a wedding reception, do you dance or do you remain standing/seated? i stay seated. what is your favorite kind of chips? hot cheetos do you own a pair of converses? multiple. have you ever dated a ginger? no. do you watch american horror story? i used to. would you date someone you had a 16 year age difference with? no. what is your sexuality? hetero. do you like lana del rey? not at all. do you think suits are sexy? hell yeah. i am openly a huge sucker for suits. do you have a livejournal? no. have you ever been seduced? by whom? sure, and a past boyfriend. what’s the third letter of your surname? "u" have you ever attempted origami? are you good at it? do you enjoy it? what’s your favorite origami to make? no. do you enjoy classic rock? if so, who are some of your favorite classic rock artists? classic rock takes up a good portion of my musical library. so let's go through my favorites (i looked up a list so i don't miss any lmao): ac/dc, aerosmith, alice cooper, def leppard, guns n' roses, iron maiden, billy joel, judas priest (i consider them classic metal, but w/e, i'm going according to this list), motley crue, queen, and van halen. this list also lists metallica and ozzy as classic rock, but stfu they're thrash and heavy/classic metal. do you get horny a lot? actually, the longer jason and i have been broken up, i'm less horny. what gives you anxiety? living. lmao. do you think "bad romance" is a catchy song or an annoying one? i honestly think it's catchy, but still very overplayed. could you ever complete a 500-piece puzzle? i have before. which song did you last listen to on repeat? lol honestly? "i just had sex" by the lonely island + akon because i, out of the total blue, remembered that song from when i was a teenager and started giggling. wanted to relieve the good 'ole times when that song used to crack me and my friend the fuck up. is your mom or dad the older parent? mom. have you ever received anesthesia or morphine? morphine, yes. and it didn't do jackhorseshit for me. does the world make people cruel or do people make the world cruel? now that's a good question! but i think the latter. the world, after all, is just the planet on which we reside. it, alone, can't be cruel. it's people who create standards, rules, society itself, etc. so people make the world cruel. are people more likely to tell you to tone it down or to speak up? speak up. out of fire, earth, water, wind, light and dark, which element appeals the most to you? DARKNESS what’s one thing that you wish was real? i'm taking what the previous person answered: healing potions from games. that would sure be helpful. what was one of your favorite songs as kid? apparently, "dookie" by green day lol. mom always tells me about the time when i was a baby and we were at a putt-putt course, and that song came on and i started screaming "dookie!" and danced. ... i was an odd child. i am grateful i have no recollection of this event lmao. how much do you elaborate in survey answers? i try to elaborate the best i can to make things interesting. are you a private person? usually. what does your sister's hair look like? if you don’t have a sister, how about brother? talking about my two immediate sisters, they both have long, brown, gorgeous hair. nicole just put blondeish highlights in it the other day. i envy how great her hair always looks. ever taken a shower with someone? not since becoming "mature." as kids, nicole and i would shower together sometimes. how many pregnant people do you know? none, i think. do you have a tolerance for snoring or does it drive you insane? it drives me up a fucking wall are you by any means broken? i don't think so anymore. (: broken things can be fixed. never repaired entirely, but, y'know. do you believe in astrology and horoscopes? not at all. are you irish in any way? yep. are you good with confrontations? NO. i start crying. should we consider cheerleading a sport? i mean... i guess? it's physical exertion. do you know anyone with diabetes personally? my mom. other family members. it runs in the family. do you like orange soda? orange cream soda, yes. anything you find creepy that others probably don’t? whale sharks. their mouths are just so fucking huge and i think of them swallowing people despite the fact their esophagus is much too small. have you ever liked anyone whose name started with a "j"? i loved someone whose name started with a "j" who was the last person you kissed? to my dismay, tyler. where did it happen? my back porch have you heard of the band behemoth? yes, but i haven't listened to them. do you even listen to metal in the first place? yes, mainly heavy and thrash metal. i'm also a pretty big symphonic metal fan, but i really need to find more bands... do you have a deviantart? yes. is there anybody famous you’re obsessed with? mark fischbach and link neal please save me from this life of squealing torture what was the last thing you took a break from? "world of warcraft." well, i didn't have much choice, really. my laptop has to be fixed. i haven't played in months. what're you currently hearing? markiplier & tyler playing "undertale." i've seen this playthrough before, but i wanted to watch it again. i'm not big on undertale, but i love how my boys make it so funny. are you afraid of the dark? no. i mean sure, i'd be pretty uneasy if i was in the dark somewhere i didn't know, but i wouldn't necessarily be scared. do you like yourself? i'm getting there! (: do you have any piercings or tattoos? five piercings, four tats. how would you describe your style? if i'm actually dressing for an occasion, i'm like a goth-geek mix. if i'm just running out somewhere, it's sweats and a graphic tee. favorite desserts? ice cream! if you could take a vacation anywhere in the world, where would you go? the kalahari desert in south africa to photograph meerkats!! favorite horror movies? "blair witch project 2: book of shadows" what are your parents’ names? donna and kenneth/ken dark and dramatic makeup or natural makeup? dark and dramatic, baby. satin or lace? lace is sexy what’s something that fascinates you? space. coral reefs. favorite sea creature? dolphins, whales, seahorses... do you drink alcohol? very rarely. not even once a month. weirdest fetish you’ve ever found out about and how? the fetish of adults with diapers. and deviantart. would see drawings as such in groups and it would really fucking disturb me. speaking of da, they need a fetish filter so fucking badly. if offered irreversible immortality, would you take it? absolutely not. what is your favorite superpower? why? metamorphosis because who wouldn't want that if you were a videogame character, what would your iconic weapon be? bow and arrow your friend tells you that they are suicidal, and asks you not to tell anyone. is it more of a betrayal to tell someone, or to keep silent? fuck it dude, i'm obviously telling someone. that is a serious fucking matter. i don't even consider that betrayal, that's called doing what's necessary to save a life. something that makes you smile? mark fischbach. what’s your opinion on cinnamon rolls? *intense drooling* would your parents be okay with you dating someone of another race? yeah. have you ever heard of the band ‘the black keys’? i have. mom's a fan, i think. was your hair a different color when you were a baby than it is, now? yes. as a baby, i had dirty blonde hair, but it gradually turned brown. it's currently dyed, though. do you need it to be absolutely DARK in order to sleep? how about quiet? as for dark, no actually. i have a hard time sleeping when it's totally dark, because i don't like being unable to see. but quiet, yes. would it bother you if someone else used your hairbrush? if it was a stranger or i thought their hair was dirty, yes. is it ‘soda’ or 'pop’? soda. have you ever been inside of a cave? no, but i wish! i looooove caves! what’s your comfort food? ice cream. what do you use your cell phone for, besides texting and calling? i have an app on there to track my period, and sometimes i'll use it to go online. what's the creepiest movie ever? there is only one horror movie that even makes me remotely uncomfortable, and that's "the rite." the concept of being pregnant with a demon is fucking horrific. i don't believe anyone ever has been, but just the idea is awful. did you ever do something you promised yourself not to? yeah. what’s the craziest color you've dyed your hair? purple do you like paranormal stuff? YEAH do you have a favorite stuffed toy? a stuffed meerkat named rebel that my ex gave me. would you rather be hurt physically or emotionally? physically. do you over-analyze things? literally everything. what's your favorite food? jalapeno pizza tops the list. but i also love well-made hot wings and strawberries. kiwi, too. what's the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen in real life? MOUNTAINS what's the best advice you’ve ever been given? "deal with the past, or the past deals with you," probably. does vintage stuff appeal to you? yeah! do you believe that leaving a significant other for someone else is ever a good idea? of course i don't. staying in a relationship you no longer want is foolish and only hurts you both way more than leaving. do you want to be taller or shorter? i don't really care. i'm content with my height. are your eyes the same color as your dad’s? no. his are brown. what do you want right this second? i want hot fries lol are you one of those people who never drinks soda? i feel like soda is such a loathed thing on the internet. but no. i drink soda. is your vision good? no. i have to wear glasses, and when i don't wear them, i can barely make out the second row on those vision test things with the big "e" have you ever slow danced with anyone? yes. have you ever witnessed someone else engaging in a sexual act? my sister's friend pretty intensely made out with her then-boy toy on our couch once while i was present. do you think it’s attractive for a man to wear eyeliner? that shit makes me weak at the knees lmao have you ever been to the grand canyon? no, but i wish! when's garbage day in your area? we have to take our trash on our own to the dump here. do you know anyone who hates or dislikes chocolate? my grandmother do you know anyone who's racist? yes. do you have more girl friends or guy friends? girls. have you ever hated yourself? yes. did your parents ever ground you? yeah. do you own an mp3 player of some kind? i still have an old fucking ipod nano lmao. that thing's been going for a looooong fucking time. are you or were you popular in high school? definitely not. i was a loner. what're three of your favorite TV shows? "fullmetal alchemist," "that '70s show," "supernatural" do you like things vampire related? sure, vampires are cool. i never really liked the romanticized stories, though. are your nails currently long? no. they never are. have you ever been to las vegas? no. it's on the complete opposite end of the country. if you met your favorite celebrity, would you be calm or star struck? i'd be one of those people that inside is FREAKING THE FUCK OUT but would try sooo hard to stay chill. did/do you listen to britney spears songs? as a kid i did. in the past week, have you ridden in a taxi? i've never been in a taxi what shorthand do you use the most? lol, omg, lmao are there any framed pictures in the room you’re in? yes. an exclusive promotional "silent hill: revelation" poster in japanese that i won in a giveaway. what show did you last watch? "that '70s show," at least part of it. do you still make christmas lists? yes, because mom asks me to.

#survey #quiz #questions #asks #answered

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ruffsficstuffplace · 8 years

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The Keeper of the Grove (Part 45)

They all went to the Trader's Guild first thing in the morning, taking jerky, cookies, and several pounds worth of stewed meat to go. Because of a penalty for “misuse, misinformation, and misconduct” from when Qrow had delivered Weiss' message to Winter, he and her waited in the lobby with the Eluna plushie, while the others—including Zwei—went off to go renegotiate their salaries, be they in Shinies, or in ingredients for baking cookies.

Though not nearly as busy as when Weiss had last been there for the Job Gauntlet, she could still hear that same musical clinking of Shinies being shaken by the counting machines ringing in the air.

“Does this place ever close up shop?” Weiss asked as they sat on a bench. “Even just for a few hours or on holidays?”

“Nope,” Qrow replied, “Guild pretty much handles all financial matters in the Valley bigger than buying booze in bulk off your local grocer, or writing a check to your cousin to pull them through for the next month, after they spent all their Shinies on buying booze in bulk off their local grocer.

“Just think of having all of your human banks, corporations, and insurance companies under one government-run location, and have a few satellite branches for convenience here and there.”

“And how do you protect against corruption? All this money and valuables under one roof is a gigantic temptation for embezzlers.”

“Very, very, very strict regulations, security, and supervision, and much more serious punishments than getting roasted over the Info-Grid, before getting away with it anyway when the red tape and the corruption doesn't let anyone actually do anything,” Qrow replied. “Authoritarianism has its perks.

“Well, that, and the shiftier clerks tend to have governors installed.”

“Governors?”

Qrow pulled up a patch of feathers that covered the back of his neck. He showed off what looked like a tiny stump growing on his skin, where his spine would be. “Guarantee for good behaviour,” he said as he hid it once more. “Mine's a deluxe that also doubles as my chronicle.”

Weiss looked at him in a mix of curiosity and horror.

“We've got ethics here in Fae society, don't worry,” Qrow said. “It's just that they can get VERY flexible when someone like me fucks up, big time.”

“What happened?”

Qrow closed his eyes, trembling as flashes of memories ran through his mind:

A cottage in an isolated island village, one of those “back-to-nature” farming communities that were escaping the city states' governments.

His sister Raven, murder and madness in her eyes, fresh blood dripping from her sword.

Summer, calmly handing him a crying bundle of blankets with two tiny nubs sticking out from it.

“Take care of Ruby for me.”

He looked away, discretely wiped the tears welling in his eyes. “It's… it's a long story, and one that I'm not allowed to tell you anyway, princess...” he muttered as he turned back.

Weiss frowned. “I… I see. Sorry for bringing it up.”

Qrow shrugged. “You didn't know, Weiss.” He stared off into the distance. “None of us did.”

“… I'm going to go review some homework Penny gave me now, if you don't mind,” Weiss muttered as she pulled out her comm-crystal.

“Knock yourself out,” Qrow said, leaning back in his seat.

The others came back while Weiss was in the middle of the beginnings of the Eldan Council, formed from the larger of the independent tribes of Fae that roamed Avalon several millenia ago. Penny and Blake got raises from their original salaries because of their training and education of Weiss in addition to being her parole watchers, Zwei managed to get a sizable advance on his from being “very persuasive,” and for the first time in a thousand years, Ruby changed the Keeper's salary from ingredients for baking chocolate chip cookies.

“Now I'm getting paid in that, and seeds and supplies for the farm so you can eventually grow them yourself!” Ruby announced happily.

Weiss shot out of her seat. “SERIOUSLY?! Ruby, Penny, we are marching back in that office and getting you a better deal!” she said, taking Ruby's hand and dragging her off with her.

“But it is better!” Ruby said as she came with. “Penny said so.”

Weiss stopped, and turned around to Penny.

“I made the calculations: with the sheer amount of calories Ruby needs to consume thanks to all her activity, eventually taking over production of some if not all of the ingredients will have us ending up with far more Shinies than if we took her payment in cash, and bought food with the equivalent amount of caloric content.”

“It's why Keepers have been paid in cookies for all this time, and the amounts were only ever adjusted for inflation,” Qrow added. “Turns out, Gabija and her beau figured out the cheapest, most efficient, and completely complaint-free way to feed these gals without bankrupting themselves, or forcing the Council to spend WAY more than they really need to.”

Weiss stared. “… Are you shitting me right now?!”

Qrow shrugged. “Hey, most of those Keepers went on to live long, happy lives, and have perfectly healthy kids on almost-exclusively cookie-based diets, right?”

“It's supported by their vitae vine data,” Penny said. “Among the many unique physiological quirks of Keepers are their ability to thrive on a diet composed almost entirely of milk, sugar, and chocolate. They're quite the treasure trove of bizarre, baffling phenomena that stump makers to this day.”

Weiss slowly turned to Blake.

She shrugged. <Valley. Don't think too hard: head-hurt.>

Weiss squeezed her eyes shut, and nodded slowly. “Let's go pawn my sister's Eluna plushie...” she muttered.

They had to wait a while at the Loans and Securities section for Nivian-speaking clerks to assist them, as Weiss was considered the borrower and the others were co-signers. Eventually, their number was called, and all of them walked up to the counter.

“Oh hey!” Nora said as she and Ren sat behind the security glass. “What a coincidence! I was wondering what kind of borrower would need someone who knew how to speak Nivian, and then I thought, 'Huh, what if it's Weiss?' and it turns out I was right!

“Isn't that neat?”

Weiss nodded slowly. “Uh… I suppose? Was the Guild short on employees today?”

Ren shook his head. “We're part-time workers here and in lots of other places,” he explained. “Me and Nora used to work all sorts of odd jobs back then, and we never truly lost the habit. So, how may we help you?”

Weiss put the Eluna on the counter. “I'd like to pawn my sister's Eluna plushie.”

Ren's eyes widened, Nora whistled. “Oh, Eluna...” she whispered, “is that an actual, limited edition Eluna plushie? I thought you could only see ones this nice in museums and collections that have their own security staff and fancy systems just for them!”

“No offense, but we'll have to verify that it's authentic first; we're still getting counterfeit Elunas every once in a while...” Ren said as he strapped on some gloves, and pulled out one of the Guild's own magical containers. “Unlock it, please?”

One by one, they pressed their hands, talon, or paw on the bubble, until it disappeared in a flash of magic.

Ren swiftly, carefully grabbed it out of the air and placed it in the Guild's container, a new bubble surrounding it. “Thank you, we'll be right back,” he said as he took it deeper inside.

Nora grabbed her hammer from under the counter and followed him.

Some time later, they returned with an entire cadre of watchers, complete with a guard wolf.

Ren set the Eluna back on the counter. “Good news: it's definitely real, and can be used as collateral for a loan.”

Weiss nodded. “How much is it worth?”

“741,000,000 Shinies,” Ren replied calmly.

Both of Zwei's jaws dropped.

“Holy fucking shit...” Ruby muttered.

Penny blinked. “I am sorry, I had not reserved enough processing power beforehand to comprehend such a large sum.”

<That… that is a LOT of money!> Blake said.

“All this time…” Qrow whispered, “all this time… we were sitting on a fucking Etherite mine…!”

Weiss finally recovered. “Is that in the condition it's in right now?”

“Yes,” Ren replied.

“It's been 12 years since production ended!” Nora added. “That's enough time for all the kids who saw their classmates showing off their Elunas to start earning serious money and want to buy their own, so they can show them up on Storybook and go, 'Look who's got an Ellie NOW, bitch?!'”

“A restoration job and the removal of the tears, snot, and despair smell is nothing compared to what people will pay for an Eluna in good enough condition,” Ren finished.

“How much is that in Urochs…?” Weiss mumbled.

Ren punched in the numbers on his terminal. “49,400,000 Urochs,” he calmly read off the screen.

“And how rich does that make me here in Fae society?” Weiss asked.

“Well,” Nora said, “we could bother you with all sorts of boring statistics about average wages, the cost of living a decent life here, and how much the richest Fae tend to have, or I could just say this:

“Money, money, money, money, money, money, money, money, money, money, money, money, money, money, money, money, money, money, money, money, money, money, money, money, money, money, money, money, money, motherfucker!”

“Please don't ask for all of that in cash,” Ren said calmly. “The Bastion does not have enough physical Shinies to pay you, and the logistics of producing that many new gems, shipping it from the other Council settlements, and transporting it to Keeper's Hollow will be EXTREMELY difficult, time-consuming, and complicated.”

Weiss held up a finger. “We'll be right back.”

“Huddle up everyone!” Ruby cried. “Emergency meeting!”

They all moved to one area, with Zwei looming over them and protecting them from eavesdroppers.

“Weiss, you're not TOO attached to that plushie, are you?” Qrow asked.

“Uncle Qrow!” Ruby snapped.

“He does have a point in that selling the Eluna plushie outright will allow us to live very comfortably,” Penny added. “With proper investment, reasonably responsible spending, and no major disasters of any sort, your descendants for the next 1,000 years will most assuredly be living extremely comfortable lives.”

“See?” Qrow said. “Penny's with me!”

“I'm not, actually,” Penny replied, “I'm merely explaining that from a purely financial standpoint, selling the Eluna plushie outright is the better decision. From a more holistic perspective, the loss of such a valued sentimental item, and the definite emotional and psychological repercussions to Weiss makes it a terrible decision.”

“We're getting that Eluna back, Uncle Qrow,” Ruby growled.

They paused for Penny to summarize and translate it for Blake.

Qrow whined. “We could use the money, can't we?”

“Yes, there is no question about that,” Penny replied, “but taking out just a small portion of the total value will allow us more than enough capital to invest into Weiss, her farm, and general improvements to Keeper's Hollow, and give us time to pay off the loan within two or three years and reclaim the plushie.

“We can even safely squeeze in a sizable amount for luxury spending, such as tickets to Eve of the Ether for four of us!”

“But no kicking back with kickass beer and market-bought meat for the rest of our lives…?” Qrow asked.

Penny shook her head. “No, all my calculations assume we continue to earn our current wages or more, and my projections on the return of investment for Weiss' farming and training, erring on the side of caution.”

<Let's vote!> Ruby said. <Sell Eluna, raise your hand!>

Qrow raised his talon.

Everyone else raised their hands or their paws.

Qrow sighed. “Alright… alright… you girls win. But can we buy a still with it first, so Weiss here can start making booze…?”

“Yes, we can, so long as you promise to keep up your end of our payments!” Weiss replied.

“I will, I will...” Qrow replied.

Penny redid their plans, and after signing contracts and earmarking money for investments for the long-run, they had four tickets to the Eve of the Ether festival in Candela, four new fake IDs in the works, and some extra money for making costumes and converting into Urochs for the night of the event.

<Are you sure you don't want to come with us to Candela, Uncle Qrow?> Ruby asked as Blake and Weiss had their pictures taken.

Qrow sighed and shook his head. <Nah, you just take Penny, and enjoy yourselves; I'm pretty sure if I meet up with you-know-who again, it'll be anything but a heartwarming reunion.>

Ruby frowned. <She stopped hating you a long time ago—what does that say about him?>

<It's not him I'm worried about, Rubes...> Qrow muttered. He smiled. <Besides, I'll probably just end up getting totally wasted with all the 'witches' brews' going around, and ruin things for everybody.>

Ruby didn't smile back.

<Next!> the photographer called out.

<Go on, they're waiting,> Qrow waved her off.

Ruby sighed, and did.

Penny was ecstatic to hear that she was getting the fourth ticket instead, and had one of the biggest, brightest smiles Qrow had ever seen when she had her picture taken. After they got their fake documentation and Info-Grid histories, memorized all the small details and answers that'd throw off suspicious Peacekeepers, they left the Guild, the girls taking about their costume plans, and Weiss advising them on which places to hit up, and in what order to get the most out of their night.

He knew he should have been happy for them, but he just couldn't shake this feeling in his gut that something very bad was going to happen soon—and as his chronicle would attest, it was never wrong...

Note: 741,000,000 Shinies = 14,820,000 US Dollars

#rwby #white rose #the keeper of the grove #fanfic

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largentkzpreslerfh87insuran-blog · 5 years

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