dramaclubhq-blog

[brahmenbones]

T redesign? On my tumblr blog? It’s more likely than you think!!

[katerinawinters]

Predator: Huntress Alpha ch 8

"Is this…" she paused, looking around the narrow space in disbelief. "Is this your apartment?"

 Jarak looked from her and followed her line of sight around the cramped space, trying to see what she saw before nodding.

 "Jarak, it's so tiny!" she blew out an exasperated breath as she sat the fruit on a narrow counter jutting from the wall in an area that looked to be a small kitchenette. Turning back around to the hunter, she gave him a confused look. "You're way too big for a tiny apartment like this. Is rent high here or something?"

 Tilting his head in question, Jarak lifted his gauntlet and clacked the tips of his claws against the data-pad. Entranced, she watched him as he read the holographic information before closing it and lowering his arm.

 "I do not pay rent," he answered firmly.

 For a moment, Justice let the little scene playback in her head and remembered the backward lettering he pulled up from his gauntlet, with a slow spreading smile of realization, she fought back the urge to laugh. He had looked up the word rent.

 Pressing her lips together, she stifled her laughter to ask another question, but Jarak's eyes narrowed as he watched her closely, and he cut her off.

 "Yautja do not use money. We gain what is needed ourselves. We bring honor to our clan, and if I am worthy, the clan leader will decide what to bestow to me."

 Nodding, she walked toward the bed which dominated most of the back wall, save for the two doors on either side of it, the bed looked properly proportioned, at least. Although, she noted it was another black leather mattress. Pulling Larsa from the harness, Justice carefully put her on the bed.

 "So, does your leader not think you are worthy enough for a bigger room than this?" She asked, genuinely interested. Maybe this leader of Ojibwe was a real dick. She knew it was only a matter of time before she would need to meet the reigning yautja, and she wanted to know as much as she could about the hunter beforehand.

 Turning in place, Jarak watched her as she sat cautiously at the end of his bed and shook his head once at her question. "Rakkah is a worthy leader. He has shown respect to my victories. He has offered me much, but I need little. I have taken a ship as one of my bounty payments, that is all I require."

 Right now, she was positive she possessed more information about yautja than all the galaxies combined. Nodding once more, Justice glanced around the cramp quarters and reassessed. It was spartan, just like the hunter's ship. Besides the ridiculous amount of weapons lining the left wall, there was not one other piece of personality lying about like it was in her apartment back on LV594. Baby toys had been scattered across the living room floor. Dirty clothes, hers and Larsa's were sitting in a pile by the door ready to be taken to the laundry unit, and the single holo-photo of her and her sisters kept on a tiny piece of flimsy, all smiling and posing within their suits and guns, tucked under her pillow. All lost to her now.

 Running her fingers softly across the bottom of Larsa's soft foot, she looked up to the hunter. Whatever he saw shining back in her eyes made the hunter stiffen suddenly.

 "Stay here, I will return," without waiting for a reply Jarak turned and left through the only door.

 Justice waited until the door shut once more before finally standing. Taking off her backpack and pulling the gun's strap over her head, she sighed just as her stomach let out a deep growl. Walking over to the kitchenette, she surveyed the simplicity of it: a counter, a sink, and a glass refrigerator nearly tall as she was holding a huge rack of raw marbled meat inside.

 A meal of champions, she thought wryly.

 Washing off the fruit, Justice took a tentative bite and smirked at the tart flavor. Grabbing and washing three more, she began to walk the length of the apartment. Similar to his ship, the uneven black walls were covered in various striations and grooves, hiding a number of hidden compartments and interactive displays. Circling back around until she was at the bed, she stopped in front of one of the two doors. Pushing the data-panel, she was surprised at the spacious--of course, all black--bathroom beyond.

 Stepping into the bathroom, she was relieved to see that this one had a large blank space of wall next to the data-pad. Scrolling through the yautja lettering, she found the selection she wanted and tapped it. The portion of the wall next to her shimmered and rippled as if the metal had turned to water before blinking into a dark mirrored surface. Looking at herself in the floor to ceiling mirror, Justice sighed. Her clothes were filthy with dirt and grime, and her braids, which hung to her waist, faired no better. Picking one up, she was beginning to pick out some of the dirt trapped within the coiled braid when the door to the apartment swooshed open again.

 Stepping in holding two black leather sacks, Jarak walked towards the kitchenette counter.

 "The other human women have provided you this," he waved a hand brusquely to the bags and stepped back.

 Justice looked up at him in surprise. "There are other humans on your planet?"

 Well, there goes that theory of her being the first to have collected such rare yautja information, she thought sorely.

 "Yes, Rakkah's mate and Akur's," he replied as if she knew the mentioned hunters.

 Too tired to delve into the subject, she began to reach for the sack as he turned back toward the door.

 "Wait, you're leaving?"

 Pausing, the towering hunter did not turn around as he answered. "Yes."

 Justice felt a twinge of guilt as she looked around the tiny space. "I don't want to kick you out of your room--your very small room," she added with a smile as he turned to look at her directly. "To be honest. I kind of expected you to put me in some sort of holding cell."

 His eyes glimmered in the shadow of his pronounced brow ridge, and his fanged mouth beneath his mandibles moved slightly. "We have no holding cell," he informed her seriously. "Yautja do not take prisoners."

 "Right," she nodded, crossing her arms and leaning on the counter to her right. "Yeah, you just kill whoever you don't like or send the rest to your creepy science ones."

 Jarak didn't argue that.

 Not sure what else to say, Justice looked away. "Where are you going to sleep?"

 "I do not currently require sleep," Jarak responded, his naturally aggressive tone at odds with the simple statement.

 "But what if you did and you wanted to sleep? I have no problem sleeping on a couch…" she paused, looking around the empty place once more. The front of the apartment was suspiciously empty as if it were designed for seating, but she would bet her last credit that the hunter used the bit of open space to train in. "Ok, floor," she corrected.

 "No," his deep tone was final.

 "Fine," she said, throwing up her hands and turning back towards the bed to sit next to Larsa. "I'm not going to argue with you. If you want to go sleep in a tree or whatever, be my guest."

 As if completely satisfied with that option, Jarak turned back around and began walking to the door.

 "Wait, how do I contact you," she called out just as the door opened. "...if one of your brethren tries to come in here or something happens and I might need you," she explained. "I would like it to be said I at least attempted not to go with my natural inclination of shooting first."

 Slowly, Jarak turned his head until one eye caught her gaze over his shoulder. "No one would dare come into my space."

 Like all statements from the hunter, the words were simple, but the meaning was lethal. Letting her gaze drop past the red tips of his long dread-like spines, she observed the strong striation of muscles corded along his wide back, tapering down to his narrow waist. Justice remembered the way the hunter had slung the adult xenomorph by its tail with ridiculous ease as if it were the size of a cat, and she couldn't imagine too many people or even other yautja crossing Jarak and surviving.

 Opening his data-pad on his gauntlet once more, he turned around fully and stepped back towards her until he stood only a foot away. Holding out his hand, he gave her a waiting look.

 Justice cocked her head in a smile as she obediently laid her hand in his. "How did you know what my rings were for?"

 With a gentleness that seemed wholly strange on the humongous crab faced alien, Jarak carefully turned her hand over until her palm pressed against his. Justice could feel the rough ridges of his tough skin press against hers and marvel at the heat that radiated through it. For something with no discernable heat signature, he sure was hot to the touch, she thought. Again that made her think of the amazing sleep she had against the creature the other night.

 Touching one of the two white and silver rings she wore on each hand, Jarak activated her personal computer.

 "I am yautja," his voice growled out over her like a rumbling blanket made of storms and thunder. "There is little I do not know."

 Watching him type on the holographic keyboard her ring projected, Justice gave him an evil grin that caught his attention. "But you didn't know what rent was."

 Entering the data with a gruff growl, Jarak turned on his heel and left.

 Inside the sacks, Jarak had brought her was proof enough that a human lived on the planet: two thermos-like containers filled with still warm food, bottles of shampoo and soap, a pillow, and even a few baby things.

 Justice stared at a stuffed giraffe and turned it over in her hand in absent thought. Were the yautja purposely bringing human women with children back to their planet? And if so, why? It couldn't be torture, she thought as she looked at the hastily written note on a piece of flimsy that she found in the bag as well. Supposedly the woman, named Ember, was more than excited to meet her. Following the helpful instructions on the flimsy, she walked up to the wall near the kitchenette and activated the data-pad, and searched for what the note told her. With a push of a button, a drawer popped out of the wall to her right, and Justice smiled.

 A basin that is what yautja called their washing units. Shaking her head in a smile, she thought it was fitting. A washing machine was much too verbose for the towering Jarak to say. Basin in his deep guttural voice was much more appropriate.

 Stripping off all of her clothes until she stood completely nude, Justice stuffed her clothes into the drawer-unit and activated the washing cycle. Walking back to the bed, she grabbed one of the sacks in one hand and scooped up Larsa in her other arm. Settling the grunting baby onto the pillow on the bathroom floor, Justice fiddled with the controls on the shower until a black wall raised from the floor. Stopping just above her knee, the half wall turned the bottom of the large black shower into a tub. Pressing a few more commands, Justice filled the tub with water before stepping in with a deep groan. Sitting down, Justice was surprised at the spaciousness of the tub. It was deep and perfectly long enough for her, which was rare indeed.

 Closing her eyes for a few precious seconds, she was about to let her head lie back against the wall when Larsa began to fuss. Adjusting so that breasts were pressed against the bathtub's wall and her arms were folded on the rim, Justice stared down at her daughter.

 Catching her mother's eye, Larsa opened her tiny toothless mouth and let out an agitated sound. Justice rummaged in the bag with one wet hand and pulled out the soft giraffe. Making little noises, she knew Larsa enjoyed, Justice danced the doll over the baby and played with her from the rim of the tub, letting the sight of the little girl's gummy smile soothe her.

 "We're in a new place," she whispered as she kissed the giraffe's mouth against the side of Larsa's cheek. "We are surrounded by big scary-looking hunters, but it will be ok," she said, repeating the kiss on the other fat cheek. "Soon, mommy will meet their leader and hopefully talk him into letting us stay for a little bit."

 Playing with her until she was content to quietly look around on her on, Justice grabbed the large sea-sponge that was tucked in the bag and dipped it in the water. Water dripped and splashed as she raised each leg to the surface of the deep tub and ran the soft sponge over her legs. Her mind drifted back to LV549 and the "woolly woolies" in the primigenius. The large docile tusked mammoths were most likely safe but no doubt scared and lonely. For a year now, she had been working with the beast, studying their glowing tusk and their behaviors. Over time she had become attached to them. Their liquid black eyes staring at her with eternal patience as she fed them their favorite leafy treats while she performed her never-ending scans. Even Larsa had learned to enjoy the large beast, engaging them in a battle of stares that made Justice's eyes feel dry just thinking about it. Now her mammoths were bound for an early death on the infested planet. Before she fled the lab, Justice had made sure to call all her mammoths in from the outside enclosure and back into the lab before sealing it off. Inside they would have access to their daily reserves of water and food, but the supplies would run out, and the poor, gentle beast would starve--if they were lucky. Justice could only pray that the xenomorphs wouldn't sense the beast through the reinforced walls of the lab and work their way inside.

 Standing up in the now tepid water, Justice paused, looking around. There were no towels. Did yautja not dry themselves with towels? That made no sense. No one this advanced and this meticulous with their technology walks around soggy after each shower, she thought resolutely. As the water drained at her feet, she stood naked and braced one hand against the wall as she jabbed a finger at the control-screen in the shower, going through the options. Stopping at one foreign yautja word, Justice repeated it a few times in her head, searching for a translation. Gusting? After a second, her eyes widened in realization, and she smiled. Pressing the button, she stood back. Narrow vents opened up along the sides of the shower stall, and warm air began to blow through them.

 Dry, she stepped out of the shower stall and scooped up Larsa and her things. Changing, cleaning, and getting Larsa ready for sleep, Justice walked naked across the room and found the "gusting" option for her now clean clothes. Letting it run its cycle, she walked back towards the bed and sank down on the mattress, letting the cool leather press against her naked skin. Rummaging through the second bag, Justice grinned at the folded sheet tucked at the bottom and flipped out, spreading it partially over Larsa.

 Positioning her gun to the right of her, Justice stifled a yawn as she took a big gulp of the soup from the thermos. Fatigue was catching up to her. She needed to be rested for tomorrow because if for some reason things went south, she would need more than enough energy to fight her way off yet another planet crawling with aliens.

 by katerina winters

[willcwthewisp]

monkee see, monkee do | luce & willow

TIMING: before mother’s day. PARTIES:  @divineluce and @willcwthewisp. SUMMARY: two artists meet a new challenger. OH YEAH!

Washing her hands in the sink, Luce looked around at her cabin with a wistful sigh. She’d had a handful of tourists book it over the last few weeks, which was helpful. But, she missed living here. She missed quiet nights with Iggy, a fire in the grate, working on a new design or practicing some of her more precise manipulations of the flame. She missed the comfortable solitude of it all, back when she was… herself. Letting out a sigh, Luce locked up the cabin. But, instead of getting back into her Jeep, she went into the woods, following the familiar trails. She missed being able to just throw herself into the woods. But the forest wasn’t the same for her, not anymore. She’d destroyed it, burned it, had some angry spirit of the forest confront her with that fact. Maybe she’d go back to the grove she’d burnt down today. Check how it was.

As Luce moved deeper into the forest, the earth beneath her feet began to shift, becoming soft and loamy. Frowning, she glanced around and was startled to see-- “What the fuck..?” She said as a strangely animated looking river began to flow through the trees. Animated as in like, it looked as though a fucking 90’s Disney artist had drawn this shit. But the water soaking through her boots was very real. As was the scream that rang through the air.

One moment, Willow had been taking a solitary walk along the edge of White Crest’s Outskirts and the next she’d found herself careening down a watery pathway. The river had appeared out of seemingly nowhere, and the only warning she’d had of anything mysterious being afoot had been the sudden appearance of a cute, monkey looking creature. It had even been holding its tail between it’s little paws as if it were nervous or something of that like. She’d blinked, and next thing she’d known her clothes were wet, and she was sputtering amongst the throes of a gushing river. “Help!” she yelled out frantically. There was no reason for her to think that someone might hear her cries, but what else was there for her to do but seek assistance? The river wound its way downhill, and a nearly inhumane scream wrenched itself from her lips. “Help! I can’t- the river- it just-” For the brief moment her head was above water, she managed to make out a human shape along the banks of the water, and made her best effort to swim towards it. “The monkey! Where’s the monkey?!” Why she cared about a strange little monkey at a time like this, she couldn’t say.

As Luce watched the strangely textured water flow through the trees, she saw that there was a monkey creature, tapping its chin thoughtfully as it bobbed up and down on a flamingo inner tube that had the same dark lines as the water. “Fucking, of course. Saetimps.” She rolled her eyes before turning her attention to the woman who was yelling and trying to swim-- badly, it looked-- to the edge of the river. Gritting her teeth, Luce waded out into the water and held out her hand as far as she could reach, “C’mon, get over here! Before that thing whips out a shark or something.” She yelled. As she said that, she could practically feel the Saetimp’s eyes turn onto her and she watched to her dismay, as it drew a very Little Mermaid-esque looking shark that flopped into the water and began to swim towards them. “Shit, shit, shit, let’s go, dry land, right now!” She yelled, dragging the woman behind her as she pushed her way through the river back to the dry forest floor.

Willow grabbed for the other woman’s arm in desperation, clutching onto it as if it were her only lifeline in the world. For all she knew, it was. As she was yoinked from the river, her chest heaved with the effort of her panicked breaths, eyes almost impossibly wide as she watched the newly drawn shark circling beneath her and the other woman. “What’s wrong with it?” she nearly screeched, referring to the strangest monkey she’d encountered in her entire life. “Sharks aren’t even native to rivers!” she yelled, as if the Saetimp cared anything about that. “Or well- there’s a species of river shark but- that does not look like one of them!” Apparently the hell monkey took insult to this, and soon enough an accurate river shark had joined the other in the waters. But it didn’t matter anymore. Willow and the other girl had made it to dry land. “At least they can’t get us here,” the medium breathed, trying to catch her breath. “It’s not like they could grow legs or something.” Yet again, the Saetimp took this as a personal challenge, and in a blink of her eyes the sharks were suddenly crawling up the side of the bank, strange, arm-like legs protruding from their bodies as they crab-walked closer. “No!” Willow denied, as if she could forcefully put them back. “No! That’s not right! Go back!”

Holding on tight, Luce hauled the woman out of the animated rapids, shaking water from her face in an effort to get a clear look at just what was going on. The fucking Saetimp was watching them with that same stupid look on its face, tapping its paintbrush against the side of its inner tube. And when the woman spoke up, Luce’s eyes widened as the sharks began to sprout legs with hands attached to them. “You just had to fucking say something!” She said, glancing around them. The woods were thick with tree roots that made running nearly impossible. And the water, it was rising and rising. But, the Saetimp was still scratching its head as though it still didn’t like the scene it’d created. She’d seen that expression before-- not on a magic monkey before, but she’d seen it often enough. “Oh no! What would we do if there were attack hamsters!” She said, shouting the first thing that came to mind. Apparently, she’d spent too much time with Hamtarot, because that’s what came out. The Saetimp seemed just as confused as her, but suddenly the water was full of fuzzy creatures in mechanized hamster balls. The arm-legged sharks began to snap at the brightly colored hamster balls, distracted for a moment. “You got any other ideas?” She asked the woman.

“What?!” Willow exclaimed as the other woman spoke of hamsters, briefly looking towards her as if the unknowing savior had lost her mind. “Ideas? Why would I want to give it more ideas?” But as she watched she realized the hamsters had served a purpose, and the purpose was actually working out quite well for her and the brunette. “They...like the hamsters?” she asked with a nonplussed look on her face, beginning to connect the dots when it came to more things being drawn as a means of buying them time. “Oh...oh!” she began excitedly, trying to name the first thing that came to mind. “And if there were books with teeth? Ones that could chomp and crack hamster balls? That’d be really bad!” Sure enough the Saetimp began to draw just that, the books gnashing their way through the hamsters that were trying to make their way through the sharks. “Oh that’s...I mean they were a little cute, weren’t they?” she asked the woman standing next to her, suddenly feeling a little guilty for the little fuzzy creatures. 

Watching with dismay and irritation as half a dozen toothy books fell into the river, Luce watched as the animated little hamster balls began to sink in the waves. “No, don’t give it more weapons, Jesus.” But, it seemed as though it was working. The hamster balls were being crushed and the sharks were snarling, distracted by the fuzzy little creatures swimming around. Were they carrying tiny knives? Luce watched as one of the hamsters let out a tiny Rambo yell and launched itself at a leggy shark, stabbing twin bowie knives into the shark’s fin. “They’ve got tiny knives too. Wow. I mean, they’re cute if you like getting shanked?” Luce said, squinting at the very confusing fray. Meanwhile, the Saetimp had noticed that the chaos it had created had missed the mark-- it hadn’t killed either of them. Seeing the frustrated look on its face, Luce grasped at straws, “Oh boy, I’m so afraid of… the fucking… Kool-aid man! Yep! Super afraid of him. Boy, it’d be shitty if he popped up!” The Saetimp glared at her and for a moment, Luce was afraid that it’d just draw a pit with spikes in the bottom and she’d get turned into a kebab. But then, exploding out of the water with a loud “OH YEAH” was… the fucking Kool-aid Man. Looking over at the woman, Luce shrugged helplessly, “Listen, I didn’t hear any other better ideas. We can take the Kool-Aid man, right?”

Willow screamed as the Kool-Aid man himself popped out of the water, and her rampant telekinesis was quick to respond to the jump-scare of the century, even though she wasn’t realistically all that afraid of the oversized punch pitcher. One of the sharks was suddenly launched into the glass side of the Kool-Aid Man teeth first, leaving a shark-sized hole in its wake as red punch began to spill into the river. Sure— there’d been a couple of nightmares she’d had about him bursting through her wall as a kid and getting stuck in his big head of punch, but she was thirty-two now! She shouldn’t be afraid of the Kool-Aid Man. But he was just so big. Not to mention unpredictable. Nevertheless this felt like a victory for her four-year-old self. “Ah- if that’s what you meant by taking the Kool-Aid Man, sure!” Nevermind that it hadn’t exactly been intentional. What next? What else could they make this thing draw? Or maybe...what was the thing artists hated most? Ignorant critique, wasn’t it? Unfortunately Willow’s mean streak was about a centimeter wide, but that didn’t stop her from doing her best to frustrate the Saetimp. “You call- you call that a Kool-Aid Man?” she tried to goad despite her stammering. “My grandma could draw a better one!” She could have sworn the monkey turned a shade that was almost as red as the pitcher it had drawn, and in an instant it was trying to pop out another, better one.

Flinching at the loud shriek, Luce glanced over at the woman for a moment before a loud shattering sound filled the air. What the fuck? Had that shark just been yeeted through the Kool-Aid Man? What the fuck? Luce stared back at the woman-- was she some kind of psychic? Or, fuck, hadn’t Peanut done something like that before? A medium? Whatever, it didn’t really matter. As the woman yelled at the Saetimp, Luce rolled her eyes. At least the creature wasn’t bright, because it took the bait hook line and sinker. “Yeah, look at those lines! They’re so thick and wobbly, I wouldn’t even want that hanging up on my fridge!” She said, gesturing to the shattered Kool-Aid Man that was thrashing in the water, now being devoured by sharks. The river was still flowing through and the Saetimp was steadily being taken down stream, but she wanted this thing gone. “I bet you couldn’t draw anything with real detail. Like-- Like a yacht! You wouldn’t even know where the sails go!” Did yachts have sails? Who fucking knew, but Luce had a feeling the Saetimp sure didn’t.  

Willow laughed despite herself, the mental image of the mess of drawings on a fridge tipping her over the edge when it came to finding humor is as ridiculous a situation as this. And Luce had been right about the Saetimp’s lack of nautical knowledge. Even now it was drawing some sails attached to the smokestacks of a very strange looking yacht. “That’s not where the sails go!” Willow called out, trying to figure out how they might tangle this Saetimp in its own drawings. Would it just...get tired after a while or something? “Plus it needs bigger sails! Sails as tall as the trees!” Willow’s arms raised above her head as if she could personally model how tall a tree was. After all, it was a part of her namesake. “A big willow tree with lots of branches and birds, and- and monkeys!” Maybe a self-portrait would send the creature into a downwards shame spiral. 

It seemed like the Saetimp was at its last wits, creative juices sputtering out as it muddled its way through adding an absolutely atrocious willow tree, with lumpy, ugly monkeys with their hands fused to its branches. “Jesus fucking christ, that’s horrifying.” Luce muttered as she watched the potato shaped monkeys screamed angrily at them from the deck of the yacht/steamboat/pirate ship that was sailing down the river. Just as she was about to wrack her brains for more ideas to feed the Saetimp, she watched as the creature threw its paintbrush down in disgust and stamped its foot on the deck of the yacht. As it did so, the yacht continued to sail down the river, lumpy looking monkeys screeching as the boat disappeared from view. Luce sank to the ground and let out a long sigh. “Good fucking christ.” She said, wringing out her water logged clothes. “You good?”

Willow looked at the abomination of a creation in slight wonder, head tilted in interest as she tried to make sense of what the monkey had drawn. As she watched the monkeys with their hands stuck to the tree she felt a small stab of guilt in her gut. They weren’t...real monkeys in the way a normal one would be right? They wouldn’t actually suffer while being trapped against the tree? But at least the head monkey was gone, and the two girls could finally have peace. Except… “Isn’t the monkey and everything just going to run into someone else down the river?” Nevertheless, she settled herself onto the ground as well, suddenly tired after swimming in the currents of the river. “Um- I’m fine. Are you?” Now that the monkey was gone, she could recover decently well, instead of letting her panic overtake her. “Thank you though- for helping me. I’d probably still be going down the river if it wasn’t for you.” Willow’s doe-eyed gaze filled with gratitude as she finally took in the other girl, trying to figure out why she looked somewhat familiar.

“It might. But, I have a feeling that guy’s gonna be tired out enough after making all of that. He’ll probably pass out in a hammock somewhere.” Luce said as she squeezed water from the ends of her hair. She was really only guessing; she’d never really interacted with Saetimps before. Most of what she knew about them came from her general interest in the strange Fae when she was younger. But, she’d never really looked for them around town. “Just peachy.” Luce replied as she stood up, her clothes damp and uncomfortable against her warm skin. “No problem.” Luce said slowly, a bit caught off guard by the way that the other woman was staring at her. What, did the Saetimp draw something on her face? “I’m Luce, by the way.” She said with a nod.

“I hope so…” Willow trailed off, trying not to think too hard about the future harm the strange monkey could bring to people. It wasn’t as if she could do anything about it, anyway. She was no hunter, and she wasn’t sure she had the stomach to sign something’s death warrant anyway. Willow made her own efforts to get the water off her clothes, still disappointedly wet and dripping by the time she was finished. Shaking her hands with a sigh, she tried to look at the bright side of the situation. At least they were...in one piece? The girl's name finally struck the bell that had been faintly ringing in Willow’s head, and recognition lit her eyes. “Bea’s your sister, right?” She chose the phrasing carefully, knowing how annoying it was when people asked if she was Forest’s sister and not the other way around. “I was friends with her for a while until…” Forest had made a mess of things. “Well- it doesn’t matter, I just knew her. But really- thank you for helping me,” she repeated, already thinking about the pile of blankets she wanted to tunnel under one she got home.

At the mention of her sister, Luce’s eyes narrowed slightly-- not as harshly as they might have a year ago, but she was confused all the same. “Yeah. She is.” Luce said with a slow nod, now eying the woman with earnest. Blonde, honestly pretty basic looking, about Bea’s age. Which made sense if she said that they were friends for a bit. A girl on the cheer team? No, that couldn’t be it. Luce would have known her-- she’d “reluctantly” waited on the sidelines during Bea’s many cheer practices. She recognized most of the girls who’d been on the team back then, the result of stealing glances up over her sketchbook. But, this girl definitely wasn’t one of them. Hm-- “Hang on. You’re Willow, right? Fo--” Forest’s sister, she almost said, but caught herself quickly, “Finch. Willow Finch. You had that art studio in town.” She said, remembering how envious she’d been when the place had first opened.

Curiosity tempered slightly by how reluctant Willow seemed, Luce nodded again, “No problem.” She repeated. “I’ve dealt with worse out here.” She jerked a thumb over her shoulder. “I have a cabin up here. Do you… want to borrow a towel or something?” She asked belatedly, realizing she probably should have offered sooner. 

Willow shifted uncertainly under Luce’s gaze, not entirely certain what it was the other woman was looking for until she finally came up with the medium’s name. “Oh- yes! I’m Willow,” she realized sheepishly that she’d forgotten to give her name in return when Luce had offered her own. “Sorry- I guess I just got caught up in recognizing you.” For a moment Willow brightened at the mention of her studio, but an instant later the gleam had dulled into disappointment and regret as she nodded confirmation. “Yes- the one that closed a few months ago. It was the one with the gallery in the front, and then I had my studio in the back.” But that was long gone, a dream broken just like she’d broken that man’s arm. She was curious about Luce’s reasoning for asking after the gallery, but decided that was a conversation that could wait for when they were both nicely dry. 

A vigorous shake of Willow’s head served as her initial answer to Luce’s invitation, already feeling rather squirrly the longer she stood here with Luce, accurately aware of all the things that could go wrong if her telekinesis decided to flex its muscles. “Oh no- no, thank you. I mean thank you, but I really should go home.”

“Yeah. I just said that.” Luce nodded, a bit of her old sense of humor trickling back into her tone as she regarded the woman. “And don’t worry. Not a lot of people from high school recognize me.” She said with a shrug. She’d always been quiet in school and, outside of a few people she was friendly with in her art classes, no one remembered her as anything other than “Bea Vural’s younger sister.” A lot of people didn’t put together the fact that the moody girl who doodled in the back of class was now a heavily tattooed artist at Ink Inc. “It’s a bummer it closed down. I wanted to take a look at the gallery but,” Life went off the rails for the past year, “I never got the chance. Sucks, though.” She said offhandedly.

The amount of nervous energy coming off Willow was really something else-- Luce was distinctly reminded of the shivery looking Chihuahua on the old Taco Bell commercials. Raising an eyebrow, Luce raised her hands in surrender. “Suit yourself. Stay safe out there.” She said before heading back in the direction of her cabin, boots squishing noisily as she walked. It just had to draw up a river, didn’t it? Fucking Saetimps. 

Willow was trying to make sense of whether or not Luce was joking with a tired mind, deciding to play it safe and simply shoot the other girl a tentative smile. “I don’t think we actually went to highschool together. Just missed each other or something like that. And um- well it’s been a while, right?” She didn’t want the other girl thinking she’d been unmemorable or something as depressing as that, and she vaguely remembered Bea saying something about how Luce would be entering her freshman year once Willow graduated all those years ago. “Or...Bea is Luce’s older sister?” Willow tried to offer kindly with a gentle hint of a joke, knowing how frustrating it could be to only be known by a sibling’s name at times. A sigh of relief escaped Willow when Luce didn’t push the subject of the cabin, and she too began her trek home. “Thanks- you too!” At least the only things she’s thrown today were badly drawn sharks.

[purplekiwis]

“From the Dining Table” - Chapter I

Hello everyone, I’ve been enjoying reading your fics a lot, especially now with the whole quarentine thing, they never fail to bring me joy. I thought it would be fun to start writing some myself and that’s why I created this blog. I haven’t written a fic in over 10 years ( I promise I’m not that old, I was just a very imaginative child.) Anyway, I wrote this one based of a dream I had and then I realized it reminded me a lot of Harry’s song, so I just kept on going with the theme. This is a pretty long one, it’s going to be 3 Chapters. Today I’m gonna post the first one, I hope you (whoever you are that’s reading this) enjoy it and I would be super happy to get any feedback from you.❤️

You can read Chapter II here You can read Chapter III here Word Count: 8k Warnings: Angst, Cursing, Sexual References

Summary: Friends to Lovers; Y/N is a graphic designer working at a small studio in London. She lives a pretty ordinary life, considering she also happens to be friends with an internationally known musician. Which is fine... Until she finds herself having to face the feelings she developed for her friend, who's the last person she expected to fall in love with.

Chapter I - The House Party

Today was just another typical Saturday for you. You had just got out of the shower and dressed in your “sleeping clothes” - an old t-Shirt and a pair of incredibly worn out leggings, and cooked something quick for dinner, since all the plans you had for the evening, and for the rest of the weekend were to lay around the house watching movies from your watch-list and trying to keep up with the episodes of your favorite series you had missed out during the week.              

However, as you were browsing through your computer, trying to figure out what Riverdale episode you hadn’t watched yet, your phone vibrated on the bedside table. You let your head fall in your hands with a weary expression, fearing that it might be one of your clients asking for changes in the work you had just delivered 2 hours ago.     You tried your hardest to ignore it, for you had already decided that you were going to save the rest of the afternoon for taking care of yourself... which was a great accomplishment since you gradually and accidentally had become a bit of a workaholic.  

It wasn’t something you were proud of... but you were a proper adult now and that’s just how adultwood is. Suddenly all your friends were busy with their families (can’t relate), their partners (no, can’t relate either) and their jobs (yes, you had one of those now) and you didn’t have much else to keep you entertained, so at least you tried to do something productive with your time.            

Okay, maybe it was possible that you were focusing on work to try not to think about how lonely you actually felt... Especially when you found yourself rubbing your own aching back after spending the whole afternoon sitting at your desk immersed in your work. Secretly wishing somebody else was there with you besides the faces painted in the unfinished artworks laying around your flat... that were yet to be amazing pieces of art one day, according to you.

The only problem was that you couldn’t manage to get yourself to actually finish them, or even to work on them for a couple of hours. Why? You didn’t really know.  

All you knew was that there was no motivaton within you to focus on the things you had once really enjoyed doing. Maybe you were too tired to have a hobby, maybe you were already over those artworks, perhaps you didn’t even like painting anymore...          

The only thing that you knew for sure of was that you had became exactly who you said you would never: A young adult working for a small company with barely any social life, let alone a stable relationship, sharing a tiny apartment with her cat and the ghosts of her past dreams and aspirations.      So I guess by now it’s safe to say that you were definitely focusing on your work to forget about how boring your life had become in the last few months...      Even thought you really didn’t want to look at your phone, your curiosity got a hold of you and you checked it… Only to find a text from your friend Harry. Seeing his name on your phone made your heart skip a beat, as you rolled around in bed so that you could take a better look at it. It had been a while since you spoke to Harry... mostly because he had been busy, and you had been trying to avoid bothering him. Knowing damn well he would probably much rather spend his free time doing something better with his free time, since he was always busy as a bee, jumping between countries and cities whilst working on several projects simultaneously.      

You considered Harry a close friend of yours... even if you didn’t talk all the time and even ghosted each other for months on occasion, until one of you broke the silence with a text or a phone call. This time, it was Harry that texted you first...      

HS: What are you up to?            

You: I was just about to watch Riverdale...          

H.S:  What is that?   

You couldn’t help but to let out a little smile. Sometimes he could still surprise you with how alienated he could be from mundane stuff. You didn’t hold it against him, you knew he had a preference for oldies when it came to the movies and music he actually payed attention to.          

You decided not to bug him about it, since you were far more interested in figuring out why he was randomly texting you at 9PM on a Saturday.          

You : It’s just a gross teen show. What about you?          

H.S: Aren’t you a bit too old for teen shows? I’m home. Been here for a couple of days, actually.

You felt a little hurt knowing that he had been home for a while and was only letting you know now, since you were usually one of the first people he wanted to see after spending long periods of time away, even if it was just to come watch the telly and catch up over bags of take-away food. You shook off the uneasy feeling. After all it wasn’t like he owed you his free time... For all you knew, he could’ve been catching up with his other friends or even have someone far more entertaining over his house.  

You : Aren’t you a bit too young to be such a grandpa?

H.S : Good news is that grandpa might actually have better plans for your night.            

You felt your cheeks warm as a fuzzy feeling started in your stomach. You noticed you had been smiling at your phone whilst thinking of what his plans could be, and when you finally got back to reality your cat was blankely staring at you, making you feel aware of how stupid you must have been looking. “What? You know it’s not like that!” You exclaimed to your cat, getting a little embarassed by your own mushy thoughts.            

Before you could answer his text he sent you another one.        

H.S: Would you like to accompany me to this thing i have?        You sat straight in your bed, but almost immidiately got up to check yourself in the mirror. Yikes, you thought. There’s no way i’m going anywhere with a face like this... In the deepest, darkest part of your brain, you added: Especially not with him.             You: What thing?

H.S: It’s just a boring house party. Please come!!! I need someone to talk to.   

You: If you want to convince me, maybe you should consider rethinking your use of adjectives. I’m sure you do... just like all the other parties, right? 🙄         

H.S: Sorry, I meant AMAZING party!!! 😊  Also, it’s not my fault everyone likes to talk to me.     You : It is. You’re too nice to them.                     

H.S: That’s why i need you to scare them away with your moody face! Are you coming? I already asked Claire to save you seat in the car.          

You looked at yourself in the mirror, kinda wishing you had known earlier because you really looked and felt too tired (and ugly, might you add) to get out of the house. Especially to go to a party where you probably knew like, 3 people in real life besides Harry. Besides, you already knew that you would feel a bit out of place there...   Because no matter how hard Harry and his friends tried to make you feel included, there was always this feeling you felt... Like everyone else was judging every single thing you did. The clothes you were wearing, the way you acted with your friends, how much booze you drinked, how many crab cakes you ate, and even how much you talked, or didn’t talk... Going to these parties had undoubtedly showed you how cold and indifferent people could be about other people’s complete existence as soon as they realized they didn’t come from the entertainment industry...           Harry had tried to explain to you that they didn’t flat out dislike you... It was just that they liked to test the waters before jumping into a friendship with someone from outside the industry, since most of them had already been through bad experiences when it came to that topic.

Y/N had never really ate that one up, but she decided it wasn’t worth the fuss of sharing her opinion out loud. She still remebered the first event she attended to with Harry, and how he and his friends had tried to give her advise on what she should and shouldn’t do... Something she hadn’t taken very well at the time, because it wasn’t like she didn’t know how to behave herself at a party just for being considered an “outsider”. She had been to lots of parties. Smaller ones, yes. With cheaper beverage options and far unhealthier selections of finger foods she could nibble guiltlessly on, but they were still parties nonetheless...          

Luckily for you, people were starting to get used to your occasional presence at their informal house events, and you managed to get along with the majority of Harry’s mates as well, what made you feel a little more confortable... However you still always got a bit nervous before going, especially when you hadn’t seen everyone in a while, which was the case that time around...

You : I feel like i could fall asleep at any given moment, so i think i’ll have to pass this one out 😔 but maybe tomorrow we could do something?      

He took a while to reply, making you wonder if he got upset at you for not wanting to go, or if he was already asking another one of his friends if they would like to go in your place... You didn’t know what option you liked the best.    Eventually, you got tired of holding your phone so you put it down, a little too harshly, what made your cat tremble with the noise. “Sorry Tilly.” You whispered, as your pet got up and curled up in your lap, while you petted her gently behind her ears. “Maybe it’s better this way… right?” You asked, mostly to yourself.         

Suddently you heard your phone ringing. Harry was calling you. You got up in a jump and grabbed the phone, what led to an unpleasant scratch from Tilly in your thigh. Before picking up, you stared at the screen for a few seconds, just so he didn’t think you were impatiently waiting for his reply. Yes, you were petty like that sometimes.              

“Hey!”               

“Hello loser!” The raspyness of his voice caught you by surprise, making you shiver. You’d almost forgot how good it sounded.      

“No one uses that word anymore.”      

“Who cares?” “Good point. Hm, listen… I hope you’re not mad at me for not going...”       “What? You really thought I was gonna give up on you that easily?”     “Oh, stop it! I’m not going! Besides, even if I wanted to go, what would I wear? I literally have like ze-” You stopped your rambling, realizing he was singing something to you over the phone, you didn’t recognize it at first, but then you realized where it was from.     

“You're a mean one Mr. Grinch.               You really are a heeeel…               You're as cuddly as a cactus!       You're as charming as an eel! Mr. Griiiinch… You're a bad banana with a… Greasy black peeeeel!”      

It was a song from the last movie you had seen together when he had came home for the holidays. How The Grinch Stole Christmas. He was singing it to mock you by your choice of words, that reminded him of a particular scene of the movie. The way he was messing up the song with his gibberish made you laugh. Eventually both your laughs and his singing faded, leaving you with a huge smile on your face. “You’re an idiot, you know that?” You asked.           

“Well, thank you. Now... As a way of thanking me for my… astonishing performace, you must come party with us.”        

“You’ve got some nerve coming at me with that crap after you’ve abandoned me for... how long was it again? two months?”

“Hey... I’m trying to redeem myself here!”             “Good! As you should.”            

“Is that a yes? Please...? You’re not going to say no to me, are you?”   

“It’s a maybe... a highy dependant on me finding something to wear type of maybe. First of all, is it like…fancy?”      

“Hmm, not really… I think!? You never really know with these parties.”              

“Trust me, I’m aware.” There was a brief silent pause on Harry’s side of the phone, as you as you rummaged through your clothes. “What are you going to wear anyway?”  

“Don’t know yet. Probably like, some pants… boots… and a shirt?”         Harry’s vague description didn't help whatsoever, but you were far too busy trying to disenchant a decent outfit to make light of his words. “Okay!” There was a lot of shuffling from your side, making his eyebrows furrow on the other side the line, despite your lack of knowledge. “I think I may have just found my nice pants, but I don’t know if I have a nice blouse that goes with them... or one that is fitted for the occasion. Why am I so boring with my clothes? I need to invest in a better wardrobe asap…” “You can always come by mine and borrow a shirt… Ya know, If you don’t want to stand out too much.”

“Not standing out by wearing your clothes? Now that’s funny!”               “I’m sure you’ll find something wearable...”      

“Are you serious? You would let me borrow your clothes?”        

“Sure. If you want to.”  

“I don’t know… I’m scared I’ll rip them or something.”                       

“I mean, I like my clothes... but it’s not like I would kill you or myself if something bad happened to them.” “You’re so humble and reasonable Mr. Styles… How did you stay like that?” You could hear him briefelly laugh at your provocation. “I’m serious! besides, I secretly always want to know how my clothes fit on different people.”

“I’m not trying to spoil it for you but probably not that good... Mostly because I’m female shaped so they won’t fit me properly… Also, I’m not sure if you’re aware but you have this gift-”     “Oh, shut up! You can pull anything off.” He cut you off before you could either compliment him or put yourself down. “As long as you love it.” “We’ll see about that.” You challenged, noticeably way less hopeful than he was. “I’ll see you in… an hour and half? Is that a good time?”             

“Do you want me to ask someone to pick you up?”               “I’m good, thank you...” You answered, wasting little time mulling over your friend’s proposal. “But I would happily accept a parking spot in your garage…” You added suggestively, knowing he wouldn’t say no. “Sure! Anything for you.”           “Thank you!”   “You’re very welcome.”               “Okay, well... I better go and get ready now or I’m going to show up late.”   “Alright, I need to go get ready as well. See you soon. Drive safe!”           “Always do.” It took you a bit more than na hour to get ready, what meant you were already running a little late, since Harry’s house was more than half an hour drive away.  

You were wearing one of your favorite “going out” pants, they were black, high-waisted, carrot fitted and overwhelmingly confortable. You went for other one of your favorite pieces - a yellow silk blouse, just in case you ended up not fitting properly in any of Harry’s shirts.

You paired your outfit with oval style ankle boots you’d just recently acquired. I already know I’m going to regret this decision, you thought whilst putting them on.            

You had also decided to change into a matching set of lingerie just because you never know what can happen, right? and also partially because you knew you’d be changing at Harry’s, and god forbid he actually saw anything but if he did, at least it wouldn’t be your granny underwear. You put on a neutral makeup look, throwing a couple of lipsticks into your purse, just so you could decide which one to wear depending on the color of the shirt.             Finally, you put on a bit of perfume and grabbed your jacket, taking a final look in the mirror, staring at yourself from different angles. “I guess that’s about as good as it’s gonna get.” You mumbled to your reflection.           

Before leaving the house, you kissed and petted your cat goodbye, however she didn’t respond to your affection since she was already asleep on top of the clothes you had just carelessly thrown on top of the bed.      

You got in your car and drove off, thirty four minutes later you were turning into Harry’s street and stopping the car in front of the condominium’s gate.You took your phone out of your purse and rang him, he picked up almost immediately.

“You’re here?” “Yeah, I’m already at the gate.”               “Okay, let me open it for you and I’ll be down in a second.”         “Okay, thank you.” The call dropped and the large metal gate started to move, you slowly drove your way into the condo, trying to remember where the entrance to his garage was.          

You didn’t have to think too hard, because a few seconds later one of the garage doors started to open and you could see a pair of impecable black leather boots that merged with the bottom of burgundy flares. Yup, no need for more searching, You thought.          

You stopped the car, waiting for the gate to fully open for what seemed like an eternity, but it gave you time to fully appreciate the man that was slowly revealing himself in front of you.

You could start to see his top half now, he was wearing a simple white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, uncovering his tattooed arms. The top buttons were undone, exposing the cross necklace he always wore, he was also wearing another necklace you hadn’t seen before, his hands were hidden in his pockets, but you already knew that they would be adorned with multiple rings of all shapes and sizes. What a show off, was the tought that came to mind once his whole outfit was revealed, but you had to admit that you wouldn’t have him any other way...   

Finally his head showed up, and he was wearing a big smile on his face.

“Hey you! Better hurry up before this thing closes on you.” You were so lost in his smile that you accidentally let your car die, but you were quick to start it again and as he walked aside you pulled into the garage.           

When you finished parking, you got out of the car, being immediately greeted by Harry’s arms that wrapped you in a tight hug. You couldn’t help but to close your eyes to fully enjoy the moment. He smelled like his characteristic cologne, but since your head was pressed against his shoulder, you could also smell the fabric softner on his shirt and his deodorant.  

“You smell nice.” You mumbled under your breath.   “So do you.” He replied swiftly, resting his chin on the top of your head.          He walked you to the elevator and you went up to his apartment. After many minutes of catching up in the living room he led you to his bedroom, where his closet was. “It’s a bit messy in here, I’ve been meaning to organize it, but I haven’t really had the time.” The boy said before opening its door.

You tried not to look mesmerized by the amount of clothing in front of you, because you knew that one of the things Harry hated the most was when people perceived him as shallow or vain. Luckily, most people could tell straight away that his love for fashion had a greater meaning for him than to just look nice... And even when they didn’t, it only took them about seconds of conversation with him to realize how much of a ducky and kind person he truly was. Also, fairly recently he had been getting a lot of praise for his bold fashion choices, what led to a bit of over enthusiasm from his main stylists’s part and himself when it came to investing in it.  

“I promise I actually wear most of these...” He justified himself, noticing the enthralled expression you genuinely believed you were managing to disguise.

“Oh, don’t mind me!” You giggled. “I’m just slightly overwhelmed by the number of choices before me.”         “Well, take all the time you need.” Harry smiled, sitting over the edge of his bed and unlocking his phone to check the time. It was already past midnight.  As you finally gained courage to start going through his clothes, he let his back fall on the bedspread with a sigh and stared at the ceiling, and that’s when you decided you couldn’t possibly not try to mess with him a little bit. “Stupid… Ugly… Out of date…” (Reference (01:20-01:24)              

“Hey! Stop it, will you?!” He sat up again, supporting his upper body with his elbows that rested firmly on his lap. “Have you found my dress yet?” 

You peeked through the open closet to with a curious expression on your face. “No… Where is it?” you asked, disappearing behind the door and enthusiastically searching his closet for the item, suddently grabbing something that kinda looked like a dress, yet kinda looked like a curtain.           “Is this it?” You asked, stepping out of the closet, holding the hanger in front of you.               

“It’s not a dress, it’s a kilt... Sicko!”  (Reference (01:13-01:18)          

“Really? You had that one coming for a long time didn’t you?” You disdainfully smiled, shaking your head in disapproval. You could tell from his little smirk that he was proud of successfully tricking you into his joke. “Yeah, I was hoping you would find it and ask about it, but you didn’t so I had to find a way to deliver the line anyway.”            

“Okay, but for real why do you have a wedding dress in your closet?” You turned the hanger to see the strange garment from the front.            

“Cause I’m cool like that.”        

“You know what? It’s actually not as ugly as it seemed at first sight...”    

“Well, I would hope so ‘cause it was bloody expensive.” At the sound of his words you were quick to carefully hang it back in it’s place, gently rubbing the fabric to avoid any crinkles.

You kept looking through his clothes and ended up finding a almost sheer shirt that you liked. It was rusty orange with a psychadelic flower pattern that looked quite unique. Taking advantage of the fact that Harry was laying down and distracted on his phone and freed yourself of your blouse in a swift motion, trying on his shirt on as fast as you could. It fitted you quite nicely to your surprise.               “So, have you found anything you like yet?” Your friend asked, with his eyes still stuck on his phone.

“Actually yes, but I could use your help… How would you style this?”  He sat up again and focused his attention on you. “How come you end up finding the one shirt I don’t actually remember owning?” 

He admired you from the bed, letting is head fall to the side a bit, you could feel his eyes stuck on your figure, what made you feel a bit unconfortable and insecure about your body. His expression changed as he got up and walked towards you, making a little circle around you and finally stopping right in front of you. “May I?” He asked, reaching for the shirt.        

“Yeah, go ahead.” You lifted your arms slightly so they wouldn’t get on his way. Carefully, he started adjusting the shirt, slipping it inside your pants and gently pulling it out, until it fell down in a natural way.      

You could feel the warmth of his hands on your skin through the fabric, what caused your breathing to get a little heavy and out of your throat came a peculiar husky sound. Luckily, he was so focused on what he was doing that he didn’t even acknowledged it.    

Feeling a bit flustered due to his proximity, you decided to break the silence.     “You look so different now that you cut your hair…”      

“Well, isn’t that kind of the point of changing your hair? Why are you complaining? Do you not find me cute anymore?”  “Who lied to you and told you I ever thought you were cute?” Harry looked up at you with disdainful expression once his green eyes met yours. You could feel your cheeks getting warmer by the second. “Well you’re wrong because I am, in fact, very attractive.” He looked down again and undid one of the buttons of the shirt, what left a bit of the black lace of your bra showing. “What are you doing?” You asked in a startled tone. “Just trust me.”               “Umm… Fine, I guess.” You shrugged as he stepped back to admire his work. His focused expression broke into a proud smile as he moved to the side, uncovering the mirror just so you could see yourself. You looked hot, there’s no other way to put it. The color of the shirt complimented your skin tone beautifully, as well as the golden necklace that fell over your chest in a sensual way, capturing attention to your stripped neckline. “You look cuter than me, I can't have that... Come on, we’re switching. Take it off, now.”  Your handsome friend complained in a frisky tone, grabbing at the hem of his shirt as if he was about to pull it off. “I could never…” You challenged, feeling quite shy after his compliment. “Well, apparently you can.” “You look amazing though...” You complimented back. “Love the pants.” “Really? I think they make my ass look weird sometimes.” The boy confessed, turning around so you could check his bottoms. “I think your ass’s great.” You kind of regretted the conviction you uttered that sentence with. “I mean… in those pants.”

Harry sighed playfully. “I was enjoying the compliment, why did you have to ruin it?” 

“Fine, you can take the compliment then.” You granted easily. “Shouldn’t we get going? I’m sure it’s pretty late already…” “Ready?”           “Yes, let me just…” You ran to your purse, picking one of the lipsticks you had brought with you, applying it in front of the mirror while the charming man shoved his essential belongings into the pockets of his matching blazer and put it on, completing the look.       You noticed he was observing you with curiosity as you tinted your lips in a dark shade of brick orange. “Let’s go missy.” The boy rushed as you locked eyes with him through the mirror.   **

Even though you offered to drive to Claire’s house, he insisted on taking his car because he hadn’t driven in a while and wanted to before he got “rusty”.  As he was driving, you inquired him about who was hosting the party you were going to, since all he’d told you was that you were meeting your friends at Clare’s house and from there you would share a car, so that the whole group would get there together.          

To your surprise, when faced with your question he got quiet and you noticed his expression changing, he briefely took his eyes off the road to look at you and you could practically see the guilt in this face. “What is it?” You asked, wondering what he could be acting so weird about.  

“Hum yeah, about that…” He began to stammer, keeping his eyes stuck to the road.          

“Just tell me it’s not what I think it is.”    “Before you say anything, I know you’ll probably want to kill me right now…”   “Harry!”         “I knew you wouldn’t have come if I told you... It’s going to be fun, I promise! She’s not as bad as you think she is.”         “No Harry!” You fretted. “You know what? Just stop the car, I want to go home.”         

“Well, I’m afraid that’s not going to happen.”  

“I’m not kidding Harry.”               “I’m not dropping you off in the middle of the fucking freeway.”              

“Yes you are!” “No, I’m not.”   He kept driving and you let your body slip through the seat, crossing your arms in silence, resenting him for almost five minutes while he tried to convince you of how Alexa was way nicer than you thought and that she wasn’t really a bitch, it was just that her sense of humor could be a little off-putting sometimes. The way he was defending her made you feel even angrier, even though you weren’t really listening.               

In your head all you could think about was all the times you had the unpleasant surprise of bumping into Alexa. She was such a bitch! Always finding a way to put you down and make you feel embarassed. She even came up with a stupid nickname for you at Harry’s birthday party that she always made sure to use, even though she must’ve known you hated it.       “Just so you know, when we get to Claire’s I’m getting a cab and going home.” 

“Fine.” He jerked his shoulders dismissively. “If you want to miss out on a great time with our friends, it’s up to you.”             “When she’s there it’s never really a good time for me so I guess I’m good.”       “Come on…” Harry huffed, shifting his gaze off to road for a moment to check on his muddled friend. “Everyone was so excited to see you...”             You were mad that he lied to you, but you were madder that you had gotten all dressed up and now you weren’t going. You also missed your mutual friends and hanging out with them. You kept weighting the pros and the cons throughout the rest of the drive, and when you got to Claire’s house, after a little convincing from the group, you decided you were not going to let the fact that it was Alexa’s party ruin the night for you.        

You were still mad at Harry though. And having to go on another car trip with him, feeling his body pressing up against yours whenever there was a turnabout, wasn’t making it easy for you to keep your cool.              

As you finally got to Alexa’s house you could tell the house was packed by the number of cars parked outside, making you feel relieved you had a driver, because if you had to find a place to park it would’ve been a nightmare.        

There was a group of people lining up, and as you got closer you noticed two men by the door checking for the guests names on a list. You started to get worried that your friends might have omitted to Alexa that you were going, since you were almost certain that your presence wouldn’t please her any better than it did to you. You eyed their faces, looking for any sign of concern, however they seemed calm.

As you walked the line, you started to get more and more nervous, ending up momentarily swallowing your pride and pulling at Harry’s sleeve, in hopes of getting his attention without the rest of the group noticing. “Does Alexa know I’m coming to her party?” You asked as quietly as you could.    

“Of course she does! I told her myself.”

“What did she say?”    

He didn’t get to answer your question because he was approached by the doorkeeper, that asked him for his name. Harry politely greeted him before answering his question and being such a gentleman, he provided the names of the other members of the group.

The doorkeeper checked the names on the list and to your surprise your name was actually there. He allowed the group to get inside. All of you murmuring a brief “thank you” as you walked past the big guy.              

The door led to a giant lounge style living room, that seemed to be where the focus of the party was. To your right, there were three big windows, each with it’s own balcony, where small groups of people gathered to enjoy a smoke and the beautiful view of the city. In the middle of the room there was an open dance space, demarked by an enormous persian carpet, that was still pretty empty despite the fact the DJ was already playing.        

Behind the dance area there were two long tables, practically stuffed with different types of alcoholic beverages. It had to be one of the most diverse open bars you had ever seen at a house party.          From the ceiling fell party ribbons and lights, and the walls were adorned with baloons and paper decorations. You tried to decipher the color of the objects around you, but it was almost impossible due to the color changing lights that provided an hallucinogenic athmosphere to the space.

You looked around, trying to familiarize yourself with your surroundings. As your eyes scanned the place, they found couple of familiar faces, but they froze at a well-known face in the kitchen.        

There was Alexa… She was sitting over the counter, scrolling on her phone. Her glossy lips rested on the edge of the paper cup she was holding. The light from the screen illuminated her face, making her glittery eyeshadow pop behind the thick lashes that she was wearing. She was dressed in a two-toned metallic mini dress and knee-high platform boots. You could tell from her expression that she was distressed about something. Her stillness gave you the opportunity to study her face. Her features were quite angelical, something you had never noticed before.

The sound of something scattering on the kitchen floor woke her up from her daydream as she turned around to curse at whoever opened the kitchen cabinet. Yup, there’s the bitch, You mused to yourself.            

She jumped off the counter and walked out of the kitchen, making her way around the groups of people that were chattering by the door. She walked around the living room, trying to greet the people she hadn’t seen yet.

Your eyes briefly met hers before she approached your friends. They went for a group hug, in which you didn’t participate. Instead, you awkwardly stared at them while they hugged and chatted. Harry looked back at you, encouraging you to join them with an eye motion, you let out a sigh and moved closer to the group, what caught Alexa’s attention. “Hi Nutmeg! I haven’t seen you in a hot minute…” She greeted you by kissing the air next to your cheek, before looking you up and down. “I see you’ve upgraded your closet... It was about time.” The beautiful girl remarked, focusing her attention on the shirt you were wearing.        

You found yourself side-eyeing Harry, trying your hardest to ignore her taunting words. “I swear I’ve seen that somewhere... what brand is it?” Her question startled you. Prompting your head to tilt towards Harry, realizing he had mirrored the gesture to stare at you. You stood there staring at each other, both of you wishing you could read his mind. “Is there something I’m missing?” Alexa questioned, suspicious of your odd behaviour.          

“No, not at all!” Harry was quick to intervene. “I’m gonna go for a drink, anyone wants to join me?” He suggested, clearly attempting to brush off the topic.        

“I’ll go get the drinks.” You volunteered, taking the chance to escape and ditch Alexa’s question.

“Will you get me some jack and coke?” The girl requested, handing you her freshly empty cup. “Thanks.” She added when you grabbed it from her hand. It was probably the only time you actually felt pleased to fix Alexa a drink. “Harry, what do you want?” You called his attention back to you, upon realizing he was already engaged into conversation with someone you didn’t know.            

“Double Tequila, please.” You raised your brows at his choice of beverage. Already knowing that when he started the night with Tequila he would, most likely, end up drunk out of his mind. But you didn’t bother to try to coarce him into switching to something else. “Do you need an extra hand?” He offered out of politeness.        

“It’s fine, I’m sure I can handle it.” You spat as you left, not wanting to interrupt his conversation again.   

As the night went on, people started to gather mainly around the dance space, that was proving itself to be a little too small for the large amount of people using it. You were having a good time, but you were definitely not enjoying the feeling of getting rubbed all over by everyone around you. Harry, on the other hand, didn’t seem bothered whatsoever. And as you predicted, he was already pretty out of it, prancing around the place and carelessly engaging into conversation with everyone who approached him, including people you knew he shit talked behind their back... The fake little bitch...       

You tried not to care, but you couldn’t keep yourself from constantly checking on him to see what he was up to. You weren’t the only one who couldn’t keep your eyes away from him.. What wasn’t unnusual, since he was such a natural attention-grabber. Howbeit, there were several girls and boys that were practically drooling at the sight of him. That wasn’t new either, but it didn’t make it any less annoying...        

When the boy finally made his way back to the group, he tried to convince you to dance with him by grabbing your hand and making you spin for him. You graciously brushed him off. Mostly out of shyness, persuading him into asking your friend John instead. He agreed on the spot... And once he finally managed to get his friend to bend at his will, they got everyone laughing and cheering, encouraging them to keep up with the tango dance moves. But it wasn’t long until the two boys had enough of the attention, laughing it off and joining the group again.          

Then a figure rose above the crowd. It was Alexa, who has just stood up on a table holding a microphone in her hand that she was slowly tapping on, attempting to grab everyone’s attention. “Hello, hello, hello my magnificent friends. How is everyone feeling tonight?” She asked, earning a loud cheer from the crowd, that she encouraged by clapping silently before speaking again. “Alright, alright... can y’all can shut the fuck up now? …I just wanted to say that I hope everyone is getting drunk and having a great time. You know me, I gotta be real with you… There are some people here I’d much rather had stayed home, but you know what? You don’t really bother me.” The girl shrugged haughtily. “With that said, I’d like to propose a toast to every single one of you motherfuckers that came to my party. Cheers, bitches!” She yelled the last two words, emptying her cup in a single swig while the crowd cheered and downed their own cups along with the host.

The fact that Alexa let you in had given you the impression that maybe Harry was right about her, but her speech left a bad taste in your mouth and made you wonder if you were one of the people she was talking about, you were almost certain you were. “What did you say earlier about her being a nice person?” You ironically asked Harry, that was standing right beside you.        

Your eyes were still stuck on her as you wondered if she would manage to get down from the table without falling. You secretly hoped she wouldn’t.            

He failed to answer your question, so you turned to him. Only to realize that he wasn’t there anymore. Your eyes quickly danced around the room, searching for your missing friend, and unfortunatly it wasn’t long until they found him...  

Your whole body went cold, feeling your heart sink in your chest. Your vision felt blurry, and there was a complicated knot forming at the tip of your stomach. There he was. Barely six feet away from you. With his back flush against a wall and his lips pressed harshly on somebody else’s. His hands gently caressed up the other boy’s back, that had his hands firmly clutched onto your friend’s hair and the back of his neck.            

You felt like your whole world was crashing down in front of you.            

Whilst everyone around you was enjoying themselves, all you wanted to do was collapse to your knees and scream your confusing pain away, but you couldn’t. There was nothing you could do and it just fucking hurt.            

You’d always known it would eventually happen... But nothing could ever prepare you for the feeling of watching the person you love fondling somebody else.    

In the middle of your agony, you noticed a pair of hazel eyes staring right at you from distance, breaking your attention from the heartbreaking scene. “Yo... What the fuck?!” You couldn’t hear her words, but you could read them clearly through the motion of her lips. She looked completely baffled by the state of you.

You stepped back, attempting your best to muffle into the crowd, but it was too late... You were certain she’d saw the devastated look on your face, and the glistening tear that rolled down your cheek afterwards.

You turned your back on the scene and pushed through the crowd, hidding your face as you stumbled upon almost everyone on your way to the bathroom. You locked yourself inside and leaned against the door, finally letting it all out as you sobbed uncontrollably and allowed for your body to slide down the surface, until your knees met the cold marble floor.    

A unexpected loud banging on the door startled you. “It’s occupied.” Y/N shouted, in the most composed voice she could fabricate.  

“It’s Alexa... open the door.” The girl shouted back impatiently.    

“Fuck off Alexa!” You could feel your blood boil and your hands trembling at the mere sound of her voice. “Just leave me alone, will you?”

There was silence for a moment, before she banged on the door harder. You tried to ignore it because considering your state, at the slighest provocation you’d probably lose it and punch her in the face. “Don’t be a fucking bitch, I’m here to help.” Alexa shouted again, but it was pointless. “Okay, fine. I guess I’ll have to ask someone to kick the door down...”

“Don’t you fucking dare.”          

“It’s my house. What are you going to do about it?” She challenged, knowing you couldn’t fight her on that. “You have three seconds… one...two…” You flang the door open before she could finish her countdown, causing her to tremble ever so slightly. “Quite the charm, aren’t you?” She sighed satirically, making her way inside the bathroom while fixing her dress. You noticed she was holding a bottle of Bacardi rum, that she promptly opened and handed to you. You stood there perplexedly looking at her, trying to figure out what her intentions were. “Are you going to take it or not?” At that, you abruptly grabbed the bottle from her hand and took it to your lips, taking a big chug and giving it back with a disgusted expression caused by the intense alcohol sting. Alexa took the bottle to her lips as well, but unlike you, her face didn’t even flinch. “What did you come here for?” The sharpness of your tone led her into giving you a dirty look “What do you think? That I came in here to make fun of you?”            

“I wouldn’t be surprised if you did.”     “Just thought you could use a friend...” She explained, jumping on her bum to sit on the countertop. “And luckily for you, so do I.”  

“Judging by the number of people outside, I’m sure you have plenty of friends.”  

She let out a silent wheeze at your guess. “Everything isn’t always what it seems, Nutmeg… I have people that keep me company, but when it comes down to the real shit, I have no one I can count with really…”        

“I’m finding that quite hard to believe if I’m honest…”               “I know you are. So is everyone else. They all assume my life is just perfect. After all, I have everything, don’t I? I don’t blame them... I know I can be cruel and bitter sometimes, but I’m not the cold-hearted, super confident bitch everyone thinks that I am.”   “Why are you telling me all that?”          

“I don’t know… Maybe ‘cause I’m drunk and lonely and you’re one of the few people here that I actually like…” You couldn’t believe the words that were coming out of her mouth. “You’re messing with me, right?”  She, on the other hand, seemed rather confused by your apprehensiveness. “I appreciate people like you... Who manage to stay true to themselves despite hanging out with these people. It’s so easy to lose yourself in this environment... But I don’t think you did, and I can appreciate that.”  

“I’m just lucky to have good friends... If they were different, I don’t know if I’d stayed so nice and humble.”      

As the silence settled, you took the chance to sit down on the edge of her expensive looking bathtub. “So… changing the subject. You and Harry, what’s the deal?”  

“What do you mean?” You pretended you didn’t know what she was implying, hoping she would let go of the topic.

“I’m not stupid. I saw the way you looked when he was all over that guy… I confess I had no idea that you were into him. I thought you liked girls, I could almost swear he had told me that.” Her words made your stomach twist, and Alexa didn’t miss your distressed expression. “Sorry... I’m not very good with words. I didn’t mean to make it worse.” The girl added, trying to make up for her cold stance. “Here...” She handed you back the bottle, and you agreeably to a swig from it. “Does he know?”

“I don’t think so...”   “I don’t mean to be unpleasant but I think he thinks you’re a lesbian.”   “Yeah, I know…  he’s not completely wrong, I guess.”     “So, you’re bi?”               “I don’t really know what I am.”               “Oh, it’s okay. You don’t have to be anything, you can just be… yourself!” You locked eyes with her, briefely smiling at her motivational words “How long have you fancied him for?”

“I don’t know...” You stared down at your own feet. “Thinking back, I guess I always kind of have... but it’s complicated. So I just hoped it would go away with time... Besides, you’ve seen the people he gets with. They’re all gorgeous, and I... I mean, I don’t really meet the standards, do I?”         “And how’s that working out for you?” You went quiet, since you didn’t really have a good answer to give. “Okay, here’s what I think you should do. First of all, you gotta stop with the self loathing. It’s depressing and outdated. You’re just as valid as everyone else.”

“It’s not self loathing. You don’t understand… What if he pushes me away? I really care for our friendship and I don’t want to throw it all away because of a stupid crush.”     “A stupid crush? Didn’t you just say you’ve always liked him? How long have you known eachother for? Three years?”   “Well… Two and half, but it’s not like I’ve been waiting for him… I’ve had my fair share of relationships and so did he, I never did anything to change that. Why would I start now?”       “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because you’re at a party, locked inside a bathroom, crying over him, while he’s out there screwing somebody else.”           “God, you’re certainly are awful with words aren’t you?”             “I take pride in my honesty.” She stated. “Look, all I can say is that I think this whole “crush” situation is, obviously, far more than a crush... And you know I’m right so don’t even bother to deny it. Therefore, I think it’s long overdue that you do something about how you feel, otherwise you’re just gonna be stuck wondering on the what ifs forever, watching him live his life while you’re unable to move on with your yours, and you deserve better than that. Anyone deserves better than that.”       “It’s just… scary.”   “Isn’t everything worth trying always somewhat scary at first?”   You ended up spending the rest of the night with Alexa. Sitting inside her large empty bathtub, sharing your shittiest life experiences and drowning your sorrows with the bottle of rum. She told you about her crazy ex-boyfriend, and how he had been making her life a living hell since their break up. Showing up uninvited at her work, her parties, and practically everywhere she went, despite her telling him time and time again to stop and leave her alone. You advised her the best you could, but as you expected, she was pretty stubborn and acted as if she had everything under control, even though she clearly did not. The night had taken a unexpected turn for you, however, at least there was something positive you could also take from it, that being the friendship that was beggining to fluorish between you and Alexa. 

You were so deep in conversation that you completely lost track of time, so much that you finally felt tired and decided to check you phone for the time, it was already 6AM.

You had seven missed calls and fifteen text messages from your friends asking where you were, if you were okay and if you were still leaving with them. You realized they had probably already left, so you just apologized for leaving early and informed them that you were fine. When you and Alexa got out of the bathroom, there were still a couple of people hanging around, but as expected, the vast majority had already left.         

The light coming from the windows hurt your tired eyes and your bottom half was hurting from spending so many hours sitting inside a bathtub. By that time, all you wanted to do was go home, take a shower and take a nap to make up for the all nighter you pulled, but then you remembered…      

“Shit!”

“What?”

“I left my car at Harry’s house.”              

I hope you’re enjoying it so far! Chapter II is hereeee!

[ask-de-writer]

SEA DRAGON’S GIFT : Part 10 of 83 : World of Sea

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to World of Sea

SEA DRAGON’S GIFT

Part 10 of 83

by

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

140406 words

copyright 2020

written 2007

All rights reserved.

Reproduction in any form, physical, electronic or digital is prohibited without the express consent of the author.

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

Copyright fair use rules for Tumblr users

Users   of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights.  They may   reblog the story provided that all author and copyright information   remains intact.  They may use the characters or original characters in   my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or fan musical   compositions.

All sorts of fan art, cosplay, music or fiction is actively encouraged.

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

New to the story?  Read from the beginning.  PART 1 is here

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

Before they could move, Master Juris spoke.  “Mistress Daeron, I speak to you as one Master to another.  Nobody stays in this shop unless I allow it.  I will tell you plainly that I am evaluating these children as possible apprentices.  I had not meant to say anything to them yet, but I must speak now, in order to keep them on.  Will you allow it?” he gestured to the hard-working children.

There was a confusion of “Of course,” and “Apprentice? Certainly!” and “Roper?  Yes, but what about the rope-walk?”

Roper looked up grinning and said, “I’ll still help you too, mother.”

Kurin looked away from the pulley that she was hanging and asked curiously, “Who told you that they were a being a problem?  We didn’t say anything to anybody.”

“Well, it was Silor.  He came to us and said that our children were bothering Master Juris.  That we should get them away from the boat-shop.”  They turned to Master Juris.  “The way that he said it, it sounded like he was relaying your request.  We apologize for interfering with your trial.”

“Think nothing more of it,” said Master Juris.  “Silor has been a cranky old Ord ever since I refused him an apprenticeship.  This is just more of the same.  Ignore what he says,” Master Juris paused, grinning nastily, before finishing, “in connection with this shop.”

With five boats working crabs and several more pulling nets for Glue Fish and Skelt, the Longin’s cargo space began to be filled.

When there was no more room for live crabs in the cargo vats, the cooks had to start processing the catch.  Crab cakes, dried crab flake, pressed into blocks and tallow dipped, and salted crab were laid in store.  Skelt dried, Skelt salted, Skelt pickled and Skelt in tallow blocks, joined the crabs in the cargo holds.  The Longin ran out of room for more.

Silor’s muscles strained as he helped to get the boat-shop hatch off.  They were launching the first boat that she had designed and built all by herself.  The crane lifted the boat into view.  Somehow, Silor felt just a bit disappointed.  It looks ordinary enough.  The way all of those white-haired-witch worshiping people talked for the last week, I had expected something more remarkable.

Everybody else was congratulating her and making a big thing of it.  The sides seem a bit thin to me.  He did as ordered and hitched it to the davits for lowering.  Crewmen were clamoring for the chance to be the first to use the new boat, as it floated along side.

Merkit and Forn, the lucky winners, clambered down and got into the boat and rowed it a short ways from the side of the Longin to put up the mast. They seemed to have a bit of difficulty at first but got it stepped and the sail up.  The boat gathered way. Maybe I was wrong. It is a fast one.

The mast began to bend and then broke off just short of half-way up. Merkit and Forn were clearing the wreckage of the sail when one of them yelled something that could not be made out due to the distance. He began to bail frantically.  A badly glued seam must have given!

“They’re taking water!  Get a boat to them, quickly!” Silor yelled.  Nobody moved.  They just watched.  In growing horror, Silor saw the tall, paired fins slashing through the water toward the men who were losing the battle to bail out the boat.

“Strong Skin!” Silor screamed.  Nobody moved.  They just watched.  The big, always hungry, fish hit the side of the boat with the large spine that made part of the front edge of its leading dorsal fin.  The poorly made side folded, breaking the boat and casting both men into the water.

Silor could only watch in dread as they struggled.  The fins of the Strong Skin disappeared.  There was a swirl of water and a brief scream. The powerful tail of the massive predator lifted from the water and slammed down flat, leaving only a stain of blood and a terrified Merkit who struggled against his certain doom.  The fish hit the man with its dorsal spine, ripping him open before it turned and took him in a bite.

Nothing was left but the sinking ruin of a boat, slowly sliding beneath the blood-stained waves.

I can’t believe it!  They don’t seem to care about Merkit and Forn. They’re all feeling sorry for … .

“Silor! Silor!  Wake up!” a hand shook him to sudden and shocked wakefulness.  Cron, his second lead deck-hand asked urgently, “How long have you been sleeping?”

Muzzily, Silor thought, Sleeping?  Was it only a dream?  It was so real! At least Merkit and Forn are OK.  Aloud, he said, “I don’t know, only a few minutes, I think.  Lucky you came down so soon. What got you down here at the start of the watch?  Is there a problem?”

Jolted, Cron answered, “Soon?  Soon!  Silor, it’s the start of MY watch!  You slept through the entire watch!  Can’t you smell it?  The vat water’s gone foul.  I can’t change it by myself now, I’ll have to get help.”

“You won’t be alone,” said Silor, following his nose to put the sluice over the worst of the vats.  “Go to the Captain and get men.  We need three for each of the four vats, and four or five of the biggest kettles the galley has.  They can dip water from the sea and lower it to us in the hold with the cargo crane.  The men and traveling cranes can take it from there.  Go!”

As Cron went, he could hear Silor opening the vat drains and starting to crank the bucket line.

Shortly, a grim faced Captain Mord and the equally somber First Officer Kotance came leading ten other men.  “Silor,” the Captain began, “you are relieved.”

“Sir, this happened on my watch.  I would prefer to stay and help until it is fixed.  I can offer no excuse, but I do know what to do and have started doing it.”  Silor had not paused in his efforts on the bucket line as he made his plea.

“Very well, Silor, you may stay,” said the Captain, “but only because we need every man.”  He paused in thought as he looked at what Silor had done and was doing.  “What do you recommend, Silor, to remedy this?”

“Sir, we need to leave the drains open for now, while we flush the vats. Once we get them to run clean, then we can close the drains and fill them back up.  I am flushing number three now.  As the pots of water come down on the crane, we need to use them to flush numbers four, one and two, in that order, because of the water conditions that I observed when I opened the drains.”

Captain Mord nodded silent agreement and began directing the men.  Big cooking kettles filled with seawater began to come down through the hatch.  As they came, they were hitched to the traveling crane and moved to the necessary vats.  Their life-giving seawater was dumped in and the pots returned to the crane repeat the cycle.

After a few hours of flushing, the first vat drain was closed and they began to fill it on up.  The watch was nearly over before the last vat was properly refilled.

At the Captain’s order, Silor followed him through the tidy passages of the ship, aft to the Captain’s cabin.  Captain Mord sat and gestured for Silor to sit as well.  He regarded the youth with serious eyes for a few moments.

“Silor, what am I to do?  You have put me in a truly difficult situation.” The Captain held up a hand and gestured at the books of Naral fleet Law and the Articles of the Longin, “These leave me little sea-room in dealing with you.  What you have done, is done.  We both wish to call it back and we both know that we cannot.

“There is much in your conduct to commend you.  You caused the problem but also solved it.  Your plan was sound and I followed it.  Only three of the Broad-legs died, due in part to your prompt and decisive action and your refusal to try to hide the problem.  It could have been much worse.

“It is past salvage that you fell asleep on duty and caused this.  Do you know your rights and avenues of action from here?”

Dully, Silor said, “I can put myself in your hands alone or I can ask a tribunal of three each of officers and Masters, with you to vote only to break a tie.”

The Captain said quietly, “There is another.  It was meant for officers but, as you do command men, you are qualified to it.  You can request a jury of those whom you command.  Of the options open to you, it might be best.  If I have the case, my action is proscribed by those books, and they are harsh.  The Masters and officers would be fair to you.  Your men are also your friends and may prove your best course. Whichever court you use, there is no appeal from a decision for this offense.”

“Sir, I will put myself in your hands.  I have known you all of my life and you have always been fair.  The others, well She has gotten to them, indeed most of the ship.  I will be safer with you.”

“Silor, please, do not do this.  I will have to break your well deserved rank.  The others do not.  That is why there are those courts available.”

“Sir, they could break me and worse, far worse.  She would see to it.”

“I do not understand,” said the Captain, puzzled.  What does he mean by ‘She’?  “You do know that you have chosen the hardest course to sail.  So be it.  Go, have the tocsin sound ‘general assembly’.”

Shortly, the sharp strong beat of ‘general assembly’ brought everybody not on watch to the quarterdeck.  Some, who stood night watches, were rubbing sleep out of their eyes.

Silor and the Captain stood before them.  Behind them was First Officer Kotance, quill in hand, with the current volume of the Ship’s Log open before him on a stand.

Clard, Master of Drums, called out loudly, “Justice at the Captain’s Hands has been requested by Silor Elon Longin.  He stands accused of sleeping on watch and thereby causing harm to our live cargo.”

To Silor, one face stood out in the crowd.  Kurin’s white hair drew his eye like a hungry fish to bait. She looks stricken.  She must have planned for any tribunal but this.  Whatever her plan was, it has been foiled.  It is a good thing that I chose the Captain’s Hands.  It’s the only justice she can’t reach.

Quietly, the Captain asked one more time, “Will you not take a tribunal? They can show mercy where I cannot.”

Firmly and loudly, Silor announced, “I will have Justice from the Captain’s Hands!”

Sighing at the foolishness that was costing him one of the best lead deck-hands that he’d ever had, Captain Mord said, “Silor Elon Longin, you stand in My Hands of your own will, having refused other tribunals.  You have admitted to falling asleep on watch, causing the death of three of the Broad-leg crabs in our cargo.  You are to be stripped of your duty as lead deck-hand for a period of three Gatherings.  During that time, you may not be made a lookout or given solo duty of any kind.  The Law of the Naral fleet and the Articles of the Longin demand this.

“Normally, the loss to cargo would demand a flogging to go with this punishment but you also formulated and directed the effort which saved us from much greater losses.  For this service, I can give reward.  The flogging is canceled unless any of the ship’s company demand it.” He paused and looked out over the assembled crew.  Nobody spoke. Silor had many friends and few who wished him any ill at all, had he been able to believe it.

The Captain turned back to Silor.  Regretfully, he asked, “I am in need of a new lead deck-hand.  Is there anyone that you would recommend?”

Silor actually considered the question carefully for a few moments before recommending, “Cron, Sir.  I think that he would be best.”

In the background, Kotance’s quill could be heard scratching across the paperfish parchment of the Log Book as he recorded the event.

“Thank-you, Silor.  You are dismissed.”  Then, with the same genuine concern that had caused Silor to trust him, the Captain added, “Go to the Galley and get something to eat.  You missed your last meal while saving our crabs.”

Afterwards, Silor lay in his hammock, dark thoughts running through his mind. Cron, the new lead deck-hand, and one of his oldest friends, came down the companion-ladder.

“Thought I’d find you here.  Tough break, that.  Hell, we’ve all taken a nap before.  Bummer about those three crabs, though.  That’s what did you in.”

“That and the little white-haired witch,” said Silor, grumpily.

“Yeah,” said Cron lightly, “if she hadn’t been showing off how she can find fish, we wouldn’t have the most valuable catch of crabs ever, and you wouldn’t have got in trouble.”

Silor sat bolt upright, causing his hammock to flip and dump him in a heap the deck.  “You’re right!” he exclaimed as he picked himself up.  “We voted against that stupid mapping thing, but they did it anyway.

“I wouldn’t be in any trouble if it wasn’t for her!”

Cron was dumbfounded.  That was supposed to be a joke!  I can’t believe it!  Silor’s serious.  He retreated up the companion-ladder shaking his head over the idea.  How can Silor prefer that the whole ship lose their shares in a rich cargo just so that he can get away with sleeping on duty?

That night’s dining assembly brought no relief for Silor.  The discussion was lively and optimistic.  As the Broad-legs had been believed to be the rarest of crabs, they were likely to bring high prices and therefore high shares.

The entire crew, even Silor, voted to make the existence of Kurin’s charts and the new, very profitable, method of crabbing Ship’s Business, with a penalty of expulsion and shunning for revealing it to anyone from another ship.

TO BE CONTINUED

<==PREVIOUS   NEXT==>

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to World of Sea

[thecandywrites]

Orctober- Winter Formal and New Years

Ok, at the demand of absolutely no-one, I made a part 2 to my Fall Formal piece because dang it, I wanted more so I made more and this gets into my headcanons about modern orcs A LOT. LIke, A LOT. So I have the headcanon that orcs would treat the new year and then the reaping, which according to @momolady​ was in the spring, I thought (assumed) it was in the fall because, well, that’s when you usually reap your crops when you’re gardening, but whatever, I don’t care either way but those two events are some of the bigger “holidays” orcs would celebrate. And in my other headcanon that orcs LOVE SPICY FOOD. Like they would so eat jerk chicken, hot pot and well just any dish with lots of spice, lots of flavor and for me, hot pot is quitessentially like hot spicy person’s dream food. Because you eat it communally which orcs are all about their family and their clans and to me that just makes a lot of sense and please don’t think I’m trying to make any racial or ethnic slights in any way one way or another, this purely fantasy and conjecture at this point. So I started writing this at like 9pm last night and I of course- ran out of time and conciousness but it’s still the first for a few more hours and dang it, it’s gonna count. Thanks for reading. Also because I’m a lemon flavored factory there’s some smut at the end. Just...heads up. 

Orctober- Winter Formal and New Years

Even though you had graduated early and had even started your higher education to be a medical massage therapist, you returned to your highschool for the honor of going with your boyfriend, Kihro to the winter formal which coincidentally was Kihro’s also last school function because he had taken your cue of graduating early and did so himself since his on the job training also counted for credits and cashed those in so he could get a head start on working full time at the sister branch of Wright Plumbing. And ever since your last hospital stay, you and him had been rather inseparable and had been going steady. It helped that you were friends and had that to build your romantic relationship on.  

You had only started your massage school a week before and thankfully you still got to wear the dress you were going to wear to the fall formal, only this time- neither of you were really that stressed out this time around, instead both of you were so happy and excited and anyone who didn’t know you two were now an item definitely knew now and both of you felt like adults with both of you being out of highschool and in your chosen careers full time. 

“Happy to be out?” Kihro asked as you both swayed to the music on the dance floor, the rest of world falling away except for just the two of you.  

“Yes, you have no idea. I hope this is the last time we’re in this building, well besides maybe prom and maybe graduation- which I don’t know if I even want to come for those unless you wanted to go to those.” You admitted. 

“Well, now that I’m out, I really don’t want to come back just for those either unless you really wanted to go to those but I could be making money on those days instead if you didn’t want to go.” Kihro confessed. 

“Did you want to go?” Kihro asked you bluntly. 

“To Prom? I wouldn’t mind, but to graduation? Eh.” You shrugged your shoulders. “I wouldn’t mind just waiting to see where we’re at then and cross that bridge when we get there.” You offered as Kihro nodded in agreement. 

“By the way, I wanted to tell you that next month, after I turn 18 and can rent from whoever, I wanted you to come apartment shopping with me.” Kihro invited since legally orcs were considered adults at 16 and could drink and buy liquor that young and even could choose to graduate early at 16 if they had a job lined up that would give them the required credits and could even move out and rent from other orcs while others required their young ones to be 18 before they were considered adults and do all of that although more and more orcs were choosing not only to stay in school the extra two years, but get their own higher education too before they went out into the work force. 

“Aww, that’s very sweet and I would love to but you know there’s no way in hell my dad would let me go to live with you before we got married, but it would make me really happy if you had a home to bring me to if that were to ever happen, even if it’s a little one room apartment, that will allow pets because I’m not leaving home without Kelly or Duchess.” You reminded him. 

“I know, I’ve been keeping that in mind as I scope some places out, trying to keep your school and my work in mind. But the more I dance with you, the more I realize that I really, really don’t want to dance with anyone but you- for the rest of my life.” Kihro confessed before he pulled a gold bead out of his pocket and placed it in your hand and you knew enough about the orc bead culture now that you knew what this bead was and more importantly what it meant. 

Orcs gave each other beads all the time between friends and family- some of them were cheap metal or wood, or stone or semiprecious stone and there were millions of glass beads that had an array of meaning and tradition because now that everyone lived in a more “civilized” world- beads didn’t always have to be so tough that they could last through wars and raids, now they could be more delicate, intricate and beautiful and the wearer could afford to be more careful with their display. 

But gold- or any precious metal for that matter, that was reserved for very serious relationships, and usually engagements or weddings. And they kept the gold beads behind glass at the counter at the bead stores and they had levels to them, they had the cheap, flashy gold or silver plated ones with crystals and rhinestones and usually just about the time the plating would come off or tarnish- the relationship would probably fall apart and usually orc kids in elementary school or middle school bought them, but then after that, they got really simple in design, but solid gold and in your opinion- a bit more dignified and discreet and from there- then they could get crazy again, this time- real precious stones inlaid into them and could cost as much as engagement rings could and were just as varied and to orcs- just as serious as engagement rings. Your jaw dropped at how beautiful it was as you stopped dancing to look at it closer before Kihro pulled both of you off the dancefloor so you didn’t get run over as you got to look at it in better light before you realized there was beautiful pave diamonds in the delicate and intricate gold carving. He must have dropped a fortune on it as you turned it in your small delicate fingers and you could see that it was real 24 karat gold according to the stamp at the base and it was heavy, just like solid gold should be. 

“Are you- are you proposing to me?” You had to ask as you were so touched your eyes started to water but you couldn’t stop smiling. 

“Well, yes and no, yes in that this is exactly what it looks like and no in that it’s not an “engagement ring” engagement ring which when the time is right, I’ll get one for you because I don’t think that’ll fly yet at least with your parents, but think of it like a promise ring, but in a bead and it’ll hopefully remind anyone and everyone that sees it on you- that you’re at least spoken for- if you want to be.”  Kihro explained, his own heart hammering in his chest and in his ears louder than the beat to the music because the more he was around you the more hopelessly in love he fell in with you and he needed to make good on his promises to himself that he would always take care of you and protect you and do whatever it took to make you happy.  

“I definitely want to be spoken for, especially by you.” You beamed happily before you happily jumped up on your tiptoes and kissed him as he welcomed it with open arms. 

“I love you Brie,” Kihro professed as he pressed his forehead to yours as you did the same. 

“I love you too Kihro.” You mirrored, meaning every word before you had him put it with the others. One of which was actually his to signify that you two were officially dating because again in orc culture- the intended mate got a stack of their pursuers beads presented to them and the intended got to pick out their favorite and wear it in their hair and it was not unusual for them to trade beads so that most orc men wore one feminine bead or even a gender fluid or gender neutral bead with their masculine ones to show that they were in a relationship with whoever while others did the reverse with their chosen gender.  

A couple of weeks later you were at a proper New Year’s Eve party- orc style where Kihro’s family had made a feast for themselves that they brought to the clan’s Hall where everything that happened within the clan took place as you watched as all the tables had special metal pits in them to hold charcoal fire pits with a huge fire in the middle of the hall to get the briquets burning and the pots of broth and everyone brought their own feast but also gave to the clan’s “hoard” of food at the front where huge refrigerators were to keep things cold- in case anyone ran out of food or needed food or simply wanted to try something they didn’t bring and you gladly donated a few 5lb bags of shrimp to which made Kihro and his family happy and proud of you for your generosity. 

The feast signified that the next year would be even more prosperous than the last as you pigged out on dumplings and king crab since your dad had “blessed” your relationship by not arguing or making a big fuss over your gold bead and now- he made sure to send you with a huge box of king crab- which was your favorite kind of crab along with a few bags of shrimp that were the size of langoustine lobsters and smoked salmon and some crawfish along with a cooler full of beer and specialty flavored moonshine that you and your dad flavored yourselves since the Soche’s were providing everything else including chipping in to get the clan a keg for the festivities, many families doing the same so that there were just as many kegs of beer as there were families, many of them seemingly to drink their weight in beer alone. 

The Soche’s also provided all the noodles, hand made and homemade dumplings which you had come over to Kihro’s house every day for the last few days to help get everything prepped as Rhiox and Kihro were beyond pleased that you helped and because of your small nimble fingers, all the dumplings were folded beautifully, the different folds differentiating the fillings. The family also provided vegetables and beef and other meats for their family’s feast, most of them sliced thin so that it cooked in the spicy broth quickly or thick steaks cooked over charcoal fires in the tables themselves next to the hot pots since his clan’s tradition was have a huge communal hot pot gathering and cook out, but because of your delicate system, his mother made a special broth just for you that was flavorful but not nearly as spicy which you were eternally grateful for and even Kihro and his younger siblings enjoyed it and one of the traditions was that you sent the first bowl to the clan’s elders to pay homage and respect to them as they all sat at one table next to the “hoard”, none of them having to cook, but got served by the clan as a whole as you placed the bowl full of your own broth and other meats and vegitables in front of Kihro’s grandparents who were part of the clan’s elders. 

His whole clan seemed to be beyond pleased that it was Kihro who had claimed you even though Kihro was embarrassed by that and had made sure that you understood that who you were as a person was all he cared about and what family you were from didn’t have a bearing on how he felt about you which made you happy and your face hurt from smiling so much and you eventually got used to everyone coming up to congratulate you when they saw the gold bead in your hair that Kihro and Rhiox had braided your hair spectacularly just for this occasion and you were happy that you at least got a huge orc sized bib to cover your clothes because of the hands on nature of this feast and of course you were happy to drink a really good chocolate mocha caramel cream stout with your meal because orcs loved to drink- beers especially and even though you weren’t fond of beer- this one- you made an exception for and greasy spicy kisses with Kihro were especially delicious from your spot practically in his lap because the special picnic tables were huge to accommodate orcs so because of that, there was enough room on the bench itself to sit between Kihro’s legs and leaned back into him and he was able to rest his head on top of yours, careful not to get any food in your hair as he ate one handed, the other arm wrapped around your waist possessively as his dad Kidron tended to the grill part of the feast while Rhriox made sure to feed Kihro’s yonger siblings who adored you. 

Also because of your close proximity, you could feel how hard Kihro was, his cock tucked into his right pant leg as you “practiced” your effleurage and other techniques on his legs in between eating as his hand splayed over your belly under your apron sized bib that covered most of you like a blanket from your neck down as his fingertips ever so amazingly teased your slit through the fabric of your leggings and it was hard yet easy for both of you to act nonchalant and innocent and it was easy to brush off your flushed cheeks on the beer and the spice and it wasn’t until his parents and his younger siblings broke off to catch up with the other members of the clan that you and Kihro snuck away to the roof to “cool off” after he had gone to the bathroom to wash his hands extra good before he brought you up to the roof you happily got inside Kihro’s huge coat with him to stay warm in the freezing temperatures, the snow continuing to fall in big fluffly flakes, your head popping out of his collar as you literally sat on his lap this time as he sat down on one of the benches before he shoved his hand down your pants to find your still drenched pussy aching for him before he fingered you because you weren’t on any birth control but he wanted to prove that at least he could please you without his cock, even if it was just through his fingers which thankfully didn’t compromise your maidenhood as his other hand greedily grasped your breasts as he managed to kiss, lick and nip at your neck and shoulder as you plowed your head back and let it rest on his shoulder as you in turn pulled his length out and it squeezed in between your upper thighs and outer lips before it would poke out your front where your hand eagerly awaited the head to stroke it in time with your pelvis grinding the top of it and it was the closest you could get to the real thing. 

“Kihro,” you panted desperately in a hushed whisper as his touches were sending you over the moon and all you got back was a growling snarl by your ear as he playfully yet softly bit down on your shoulder as he twisted your nipple between his fingers while his other fingers pinched your nub before his middle finger dove into your center to tap and rub at your G-spot and you grinded on his hand while your own hands squeezed around his length and pinched the head, his precum completely coating your hands and dripping down to your own lap as Kihro moved his own hips in sync with yours and because you were both pressed for time because you didn’t want to get caught, it only heightened your arousal and in no time at all, you came, another keening muffuled cry of Kihro’s name inside his coat as your core constricted and fluttered around Kihro’s finger which spurned him to shoot out a load so huge you couldn’t hold it in both of your hands and you had to quickly try to throw it out of the warm cocoon of his coat onto the snow around you so it wouldn’t get on either of you before you wiped your hands off on the snow on the bench on either side of you as Kihro recovered as you felt his sweat make his chest and your back that was pressed up against him wet. 

“Damn.” He grunted before he pressed soft and sweet kisses into your neck and shoulder before he helped put you back together and get your bra back in place and your underwear and leggings back into place before he got himself put away and once you were straightened up he wrapped his arms tight around you to hug you and kiss your cheek before you turned your head to really kiss him over your shoulder. 

“I love you so much, thank you,” he thanked you earnestly. 

“I love you too, and thank you, ending this year with a bang and starting the next one off right.” You giggled before you checked the time on your phone. 

“We should get back,” you urged before he reluctantly let you go and you both had to hide the “evidence” in the rest of the snow as you made a butt print on the bench next to Kirho so that it looked like you were sitting side by side before you went down stairs, passing another couple coming into the building as they were coming out and judging by their own giddyness, were probably about to do the same or probably even more than what you and Kihro just did which made Kihro and yourself burst into laughter once you got inside to warm back up for a few minutes, all of you watching the ball drop on the huge tv’s on the inside counting down before kissing Kihro once more when it was the new year and oh so happy that it all started with a boy, asking a girl to a dance. 

[pigeontheoneandonly]

The Price of an Afternoon

Part 3 of my Dragon Age / Mass Effect crossover. I also threw this up on AO3 if that’s more convenient. (Part 4 here.)

Several days later, when Nathaly’s turn to go into town came up, Kaidan met her at the bottom of the hill and declared his intention to tag along.

“No.” Her answer immediate, and expected. “It’s not a good idea.  You could have fled in any direction, but sooner or later, templars are going to search north, and this is the first significant settlement they’ll reach.”

“I understand,” he said, with fraying patience.  “I didn’t let you boost me from the Circle Tower just to wind up staring at cave walls instead.”

“It’s just for a few weeks.  Until we figure out if it’s safe to move.”

“I’m not going to walk into the town square and summon a firestorm.  I just want to…”  He struggled with the words.  “I haven’t seen people in a decade.  Not living real lives, instead of something premeditated and scheduled and assigned before they were born.  I haven’t smelled an apple that wasn’t cooked since I left my parents’ land for the last time.”

She shook her head, stubborn as he remembered.  “Kaidan…”

“I’ll keep my hood up.”  The weather was turning chill, and it would raise no suspicion.  “I won’t even say a word.  I just want to soak up the crowd.  Maybe eat a pie, or something.”

Everything on her face said this was a horrible idea, and she was probably right, but her eyes had softened.  Even in this short-lived reunion, he’d already learned they told the real story. He really liked that about her.  

“Fine,” she said, at last.  “But you’re going to take Ash’s cloak.  It’s far less noticeable than that blue thing of yours.”

She said this dressed herself in a forest green shirt and burnt orange breeches. Even her armor was covered in tooled designs, and he caught her working on more embellishment at odd hours, waiting for the next thing to happen.  That was a revelation.  He never expected her to care much for ornamentation.  

“Don’t worry. Nobody’s going to notice me next to all that.”  He gestured at her, grinning.  

She scoffed, but also seemed rather pleased that he’d noticed.  “Get the damn cloak.”

It was about an hour’s walk into Crestwood proper.  A large village or a small town, depending on particular preference, it bustled in early autumn, the harvest just starting to come in.  Alongside the grain and vegetables in the market were fresh catches from the lake, scales shining silver and green and rainbow-hued, eels, mussels, and even a species of crab.  He’d only seen them in drawings.  Their home village of Kinallen was strictly land-locked.

Fish was naturally a staple of Kinloch Hold, surrounded as it was by a lake.  But he rarely saw it whole like this, still wet, freshly gutted.  Never knew it could smell oddly fresh, clean like the crisp water that bore it.  

Nathaly caught him gawking and laughed, but not at him.  More like she was enjoying his enjoyment.  “Wow, you were going stir-crazy.”

“Only for thirteen years.”  And it was amazing how fast that became a joke.  He’d held himself so tightly for so long that any margin to relax had him spilling all over the place.

She grinned back.  For a moment, he thought she might grab his hand again, like she had on the boat, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted it.  But she walked on.  And then he wasn’t sure he wasn’t disappointed.  Kaidan had worked with lightening as part of the standard curriculum. Standing in her presence felt like summoning a shock, the mild buzz tingling over his skin as he held it ready in his hand.  Exhilarating, but also dangerous.

One thing was sure. He still liked her every bit as much as when they were younger. She still made him laugh and put him at ease with almost effortless aplomb.  And Nathaly hadn’t changed a bit, either.  More confident, maybe, more sure of herself, and definitely ready and able to use that sword.  But still careless and wild.  Like nothing could stop her doing as she willed.  Her father used to call her “our little whirlwind”, because like the dust devils that occasionally raced across their plains, Nathaly rarely gave consideration to anything in her path, tumbling forward for the sheer joy of it.

And sure enough, they’d barely arrived before she was distracted by a different booth, one displaying bolts of cloth and buttons and embroidery floss.  He couldn’t imagine her with a needle in hand, but she bought several skeins.  As she tucked them into her pack, she caught his skeptical stare, and snorted.  “I taught myself leatherworking.  How much harder could this be?”

He rose to the bait.  “What kind of pattern are you thinking?”

“Maybe a little border going around a cuff.  A band of words.”  Delighted by her own idea.  “Fuck, fuck, fuck, in a big circle.”

He laughed, hard enough that the hood started to slide back.  She caught its edge just in time.  “Careful, there.”

“Yeah.” It cast pall over the afternoon, reminding him that he wasn’t truly free, not yet.  Not until the templars had given up hope of finding him and he could walk in the open air without tempting fate.  But this was better than nothing.

She seemed just as eager to not ruin the day.  “Help me figure out what we want to eat.  This needs to last at least four or five days.  Garrus wants to scout west, see if there’s something more permanent for us to move into.”

“Sounds good.”  They wandered back towards the food stalls.

In the midst of picking through a fruit stand, trying to resist the raspberries in favor of something that wouldn’t spoil almost overnight nor get crushed in a knapsack, he felt Nathaly go stiff beside him.  He glanced up.  And then immediately back down to the fruit, trying subtly to pull the hood lower over his face.  A gaggle of Chantry mothers had arrived at the far end of the market.

She bent towards him, urgently.  “We need to finish up and leave.”

“Agreed,” he whispered back.

Then, as he started to move away, snagged his cloak.  “Slowly.  Don’t attract attention.”

A thousand years passed as he waited for her to finish selecting fruit.  Another century or three as she paid the man running the stall. The Chantry mothers roving ever closer, their gossip growing louder.  Kaidan tried not to stare.  But it was next to impossible when it felt like the thread of his life was hanging taut, just waiting for one of them to trip and snap it.

Nathaly piled the remainder of their purchases into his knapsack.  “Walk,” she whispered, as she put her arm around him and steered them towards the western road out of Crestwood.  Then, when he involuntarily tried to look over his shoulder, “Eyes front.  We’re almost in the clear.”

They walked through the stone arch and out of line-of-sight.  Kaidan drew a huge breath.  Nathaly dropped her arm and rubbed her eyes.  “Well, that was something.”

“Yeah, I—”  His eyes went wide.  His throat closed up.

“This was the worst idea,” Nathaly went on, oblivious.  “We’re never doing this again.”

He tried to wet his mouth.  His voice a weak croak.  “Nathaly—”

“And don’t you even start with the ‘I was trapped in a tower for thirteen years’ crap while I’m trying to keep you alive for the next thirteen—”

“Nathaly.” He spun her bodily.

Three templars had paused on the road east of them.  Staring the pair of them down, heads cocked to the side, still confused, focused on him.  Kaidan estimated that would last another moment or two and then they were both dead.

“Shit,” said Nathaly, eloquent as always.  “Maybe they haven’t noticed.”

The templar in the lead put his hand to his hilt and started forward.

Kaidan took a step back.  Wondering why in the hell he let her talk him into leaving his staff in the cave, giveaway or not.  “I think that ship’s sailed.”

“Double shit.”  And then she actually walked towards them.  The blood drained from his face.

She stopped a few paces from the templar group, forcing them to stop also.  “Can I help you?”

One of the templars in the back sniggered.  The leader shot him a tempering glare.  “Are you aware that you are traveling in the company of an apostate?”

Nathaly rested her hands on her hips.  Not retreating an inch.  Kaidan’s guts tried to turn themselves inside out.  “Dunno.  Are you aware that you’re about to make a terrible decision?”    

Outright laughter, unchecked by the templar in charge, who couldn’t suppress a smile himself.  “My dear woman, this… mage is our charge to return to the Circle from which he has fled, as Andraste bid us.  If you insist on standing in our way, we will be forced to remove you.”

“You can damn well try.”  She drew her sword, steel ringing in the autumn afternoon.  Her eyes shifting to each of them in turn.  “But if you do, I’ll kill you all.  There won’t be a final moment’s mercy, letting one of you run off and regroup.  One mage means nothing to you.  You’ve got hundreds.  Is this mage worth your three beating hearts?”

[muthaz-rapapa]

StarPre: Zodiac Forms

Now that I’ve got the good quality official art, c’mon, did anyone seriously think I would not ramble about the zodiac forms in another long post? :P lol

Crap, I should be studying my Japanese since I’m traveling to Tokyo next week (GONNA GO VISIT THE PRECURE STORE, WOOOOT~!) but I want to get this post out first cuz I know I won’t have time or internet access to do it later.

So let’s do this!

Taurus form – BRAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIIIDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDSSSSSSSSSS

8D

This one I like best out of Star’s two forms (but Pisces is awesome too!) for that reason but I also love how they changed her short tutu-style skirt into an asymmetric, flowing one. And that cow pattern is to die for~! <3

The butterfly earrings and horns are a very nice touch as well! *chef’s kiss*

Pisces form – I can’t explain why or how Hikaru pulls off the mermaid look so well…but she just does, okay?

Maybe it’s the twintails.

Anyways, super cute! Adding a touch of blue and deep magenta to the overall light pink theme really makes her look more tropical.

Then there are the sea accessories and ugh! Sometimes when I look at this, I’m reminded of Mermaid Melody except the way Star is designed here looks a lot more fun.

Before I get into this, I just want to say that we can now celebrate Lala’s bubble shorts blooming into space dresses! Aaaaaahhh~ <D

Leo form – Y’know when I saw Lala go “RAWR!” in the movie trailer, I was like “This is it, if this is the last thing I see, I’ll be happy I lived”, hahaha!

Lion imagery is just so cool, y’know? (as Gelato can testify)

The wild hair, the crown.

Yeap. This pretty much confirms it. Lala is Space Queen. ;D

Cancer form – I’m simultaneously gushing over her crab hair, how much I love this shade of yellow green and giggling mad that she resembles a jellyfish more than a crustacean. xDD

*sigh* Really, I think Lala’s forms turned out the best. They faithfully captured the aesthetics of the Star Princesses while retaining Milky’s original design and without making it overly gaudy, too.

Lala, you are perfect! <3

Libra form – Normally, I would say that’s too crazy for even crazy magical girl hair but then I remember Felice’s Alexandrite form and how extra that was in all its Mother Nature floral glory…

…and I just shut my trap.

Still, it seems like Libra form had the least effort put into it.

I mean, yea, they moved some colors around (more like seeped the orange into the ombre of Soleil’s hair) and extended the reaches of her dress but it’s practically the same thing save for Libra’s hairdo…which looks more like a wig she put on that anything.

That’s just it. The dual cornucopia there catches your attention right away on how…fake it looks that it’s as if the rest don’t matter as much. Which is sad cuz the Libra Star Princess is perhaps one of the best Star Princesses based on what little personality we did get from each of them. And I just wanted to see something more creative for her form, that’s all. :(

Maybe it’ll look better in motion? We’ll just have to see if that happens in the movie. As of right now, this still picture isn’t really helping my impression of it.

Scorpio form – Much better. Absolutely adore the slimmer cut and my, does Elena look downright gorgeous with a ponytail! <D

I’m always reading about how “full of passion” Scorpios are and while I don’t let those descriptions get in the way of appreciating their characters, have to admit that “passion” was the first word that came to my mind when I saw Soleil in this form.

She literally looks like a goddess of sunsets. Beautiful.

Capricorn form – Still not sure if I’m the type of person who favors something just because I so happen to share a quality or trait with that one certain aspect of a character…

And I freely admit that the Capricorn form is not the best of bunch (though it’s definitely not the worst)…

…but it looks unarguably lovely regardless and I love it with all my heart because me is a Capricorn, after all~ <3

The tiny hearts themselves may be a bit much but it’s part of Capricorn Star Princess’s design so honestly, I have zero problem with it. They’re adorable~

Then I kinda squealed because Selene traded her umbrella/lamp shade skirt for a fancy bed canopy! LOL xDD

But most of all, it’s simply wonderful to see Madoka with wavy hair (AGAIN WITH THE HAIR!). Ooooo, gotta love that transition from light purple to fuchsia! X3

Like I said before, they made the Cures’ respective color schemes and the Star Princesses’ color schemes quite compatible. But that’s a given since they’re within close range of each other anyway.

Sagittarius form – Ok, I may have said Lala’s forms looked the best but I believe the Sagittarius form alone can blow everyone else’s out of the sky.

I mean, look at her! Isn’t she friggin’ STUNNING?!

The long side pony tail (*SCREAMS*), the mature vibe the long gown gives off and most of all, MADOKA HOLDING AN ACTUAL BOW AND ARROW AND LOOKING LIKE A WARRIOR MAIDEN DESCENDING FROM THE HEAVENS TO PURGE THE EVIL FROM THIS WRETCH WORLD!!

HAAAAAA……I dunno why I get so emotional over form changes, I just do.

Alright, first things first. This is not the place for me to spill my grievances about Cosmos in general so rest assured, I won’t do that. But I am allowed to say one thing.

Toei. I don’t understand your incomplete logic.

Cure Cosmos is a rainbow Cure. You either give her all twelve differently colored forms or you give her none at all.

Seriously, it makes no sense that she gets four zodiac forms, leaving the other girls with only two when we could have had:

1) the original starters with three zodiac forms each

2) Cosmos with either twelve (because SHE’S THE CURE OF EFFIN’ RAINBOWS!!) or one exceptionally glorified rainbow super form (with seven cat tails because RAINBOWS!!)

This is less about midseason Cure privilege (which Cosmos has heaps of) or the fact that they won’t be able to fit so many forms in an hour long special (it’s movie budget so piss off!) and more about not doing your math right to get the best, maximum output! xP

*sigh* Ok, petty raging done (for now). Moving along…

Aries form – As some of you may know, I’m not a fan of Cosmos’ rainbow skirt but I find I can easily overlook that (along with the cat ears, the flat top hat décor, the weird braids and the dorito clips) to appreciate the full picture.

And the Aries form may just be my most favorite out of Cosmos’ forms. Since Aries is the ram constellation, the white wool trim looks appropriate, especially against the crimson of her outfit. Frankly, I think Cosmos looks better in this red design than her normal blue-rainbow Cure form.

Then there’s the poofy (kyaa~!) hair that just acts so well as a backdrop to the ram horns.

Mm, yes, definitely my favorite. *nod nod*

Gemini form – Again, where the fuck were you when Met Gala was happening this year?!

Like, this would not only fit right in with the camp theme but could’ve won best dressed that night!

The only thing I’d consider getting rid of is the rainbow but then it’d probably look less campy so maybe not.

Anyways, I was the least fond of this form when I first saw it but the more I look at it, the more I’m learning to like it…??

The red cape (and cherry earrings) provides a sharp contrast to all the green going on, too.

Virgo form – Azure blue complements light pink and white in a very angelic sort of way. Pretty~

Cosmos’ hair also looks delightfully charming when it’s curled and has a flower decoration in it.

…That’s all I have to say, really.

Oh no, wait.

It’s extremely odd to me that Cosmos gets two zodiac forms that correspond to other Cures’ birthday signs and she doesn’t even get the form of her own birthday sign.

Hikaru’s is Aries and Elena’s is Virgo. Look who got those forms.

Yuni’s sign is Libra. That form went to Soleil instead.

…WHAT IS UP WITH THAT?! >:/

Aquarius form – Is it just me or do the rainbow pleats actually work here?

We’re dealing with water and the droplet beads attached to the ends really reminds me of the rain so that’s probably why.

Cosmos’ hair also looks mega good in waves, too.

And the stars~! Exquisite!

On another note, again she always comes as a strange package because if cats in general hate water, then pairing Cosmos up with Aquarius is the biggest mismatch of them all, them both having a blue theme be damned. xD;

~~~~~

*SIGH* Finished!

…Or not. One last thing. There’s always one last thing.

It’s just a real shame that these forms are exclusive to the movie. I mean, I know we all have our opinions on whether or not Form Changes are actually useful in the tv series (I don’t care, I just like looking at them and that’s reason enough for me)…

But the stock footage was severely underwhelming for StarPre so having these in the show may have done some good to alleviate that feeling.

Also, the Zodiac forms have a much closer relation to the space motif than the Twinkle forms do. Seriously, the most noticeable things about the Twinkle forms are the tiaras and it’s weird because we already have the Star Princesses. So WHY do we need to put tiaras on the Cures? They’re not aiming to become princesses themselves, they’re channeling the powers of the stars (aka the Zodiac princesses!) so they should take on appearance respective of the star signs!

Again, I really don’t understand Toei logic.

……AND ONE MORE THING! OMGODD

Is there anyone out there who tried to draw what the first four Cures would look like in the forms that went to Cosmos? And if there is, may I see them? Please, pretty pretty please please please?!?!?

[minijenn]

Kingdom Hearts 3: Final Thoughts

Ok well not really final thoughts cause I’m sure I’ll be internally screaming over this game for the rest of time, but I figured I’d leave my thoughts about the game in a more... coherent manner than what my screaming during the liveblogging conveyed. And so, here we go with me basically talking about everything I liked, loved, and maybe wasn’t so ok with (cause the game wasn’t perfect lol) and yeah there will be spoilers aplenty so I’ll tuck it away under the cut cause I have a feelin this is gonna get long. So... here we go:

First I’ll start off wit the easy stuff, the presentation. By GOD is this game fucking beautiful to look out. All of the graphics are so crisp and clean and everything just BURSTS with color. Never before have the Disney worlds felt so alive in a KH game and now they’re JAMMED back with detail. I first noticed this while wandering around Galaxy Toys in the Toy Box and I gasped at just how many little minute details there were to be found, from price tags for toys, to sticky notes on bulletin boards, and so on. Every single place you visit in this game looks like its actually been lived in as opposed to just being another set piece. They were all so much fun to explore and I’ll go into detail about each Disney world at least later on. As for everything else, so much effort was put into just about EVERYTHING! From the ways environments are lit (Corona especially had some nice lighting effects, as did San Fransokyo), from enemy designs, to characters expressions oh god the expressions. KH games in the past tended to rely on stock expressions in some scenes because hey, its easy when ya don’t need to put your whole foot forward, I get it. But here? There are no stock facial expressions, everyone, everyone emotes in such vivid and realistic ways so that you can just see how characters are feeling/what they’re thinking just through their body language and expressions alone (Sora especially aslkdjasld I’ll go on about my son in a bit tho). In terms of other visual stuff, I LOVED how flashy this game could get in terms of attacks (Attraction Flow especially oh my god), some say it might have gone over the top, but to me, it just made me so excited to use everything I had in my arsenal just to see how things looked!

Next the music oh GOD the MUSIC. From the moment this game’s version of Dearly Beloved started playing I knew I was in for a DAMN pleasant listening experience. But what I loved even more was how this game went above and beyond with is score. Yeah ya have your basic level and battle background themes (my personal favs among those include Arendelle’s and Corona’s themes), but then most cutscenes are scored with individual little musical cues, almost like scenes right out of a movie instead of just the same theme playing on repeat in the background! That honestly added such a neat little touch to the game that I instantly noticed and loved IMMEDIATELY (this game also improved Sora’s theme SO much and used it a lot and I fucking LOVED that) and other returning songs were great too (Mysterious Tower’s theme is spectacular now, and even though they didn’t really change Hundred Acre Woods’ theme, they added more orchestration to it to make it sound even prettier!) And of course, don’t even get me started on Face My Fears and Don’t Think Twice, both of those are such AMAZING songs, probably my fav Utada songs out of the entire series (Don’t Think Twice especially lol) 

Next up, gameplay. So I kinda suck at KH games but honestly? I didn’t really have THAT hard of a time with this one. I played it in normal mode (cause I aint about to punish myself with proud mode alskdjalksdja) and I only started dying towards the end of the game and even then I didn’t die that much. But don’t get me wrong, the game isn’t stupidly easy either. The enemies will fuck you up if you’re not careful. I always made sure to reserve my magic to use cure like... fucking constantly because better safe than sorry! As for attacks, I favored using formchanges a lot because I always felt way more powerful with them (I beat the game using the BH6 keyblade imo that’s a good one) and Attraction Flow was also really useful and fun to use! Summons I... didn’t really use that much lol (same old story as other KH games) and team attacks I did use pretty much whenever they were offered to me (the ones with Disney companions were always a lot of fun!). Outside of battle, exploring in this game is SO much fun! Even aside from all the stuff to look at, there’s a lot to find! From ingredients (oh god the game wouldn’t fucking let me forget about ingredients), to hidden Mickeys (laskdjalskdjsad fuckin hell could never find any when the game outright told me there was one in front of me I’m stupid as hell), to the usual chests and whatnot, searching around was always a fun time (unless it was for fucking crabs, but we’ll get to that). Plus can I just say that I adore how smooth it is to control Sora in this game? Like seriously the boy actually runs at a decent pace for a change, his jump doesn’t feel like he’s wearing goddamn cement shoes, and the fucking tricks he can pull off with the whole running up walls and shit? fantastically fun to do. Special gameplay elements in the game were also usually always welcome, but I’ll get to those for each individual world when I go through em. 

But before I do that, I’ll briefly speak on all the extra stuff this game offers for you to do because by god is it packed with content. I didn’t really explore a ton of what it had to offer cause I wanted to beat the main story as quickly as I could, but what I did explore of it was a lot of fun! Cooking with Remy is adorable and even though I didn’t really use any of the dishes I cooked up I still had fun finding ingredients and doiing the little minigames for each dish. Hundred Acre Woods minigames were all kinda samey but tbh it was a fun game nonetheless. I only played one of the Classic Kingdom games but tbh next time I visit the game, I really do wanna try more of them, they’re super cute. The camera function was a delight askdjskd such a cute touch to add, taking selfies with Disney characters is my new favorite thing oh my god and... ugh guess I’ll talk about the Gummi ship here too... I never liked it in 1 or 2 but god they really fucked it up here imo. I know some might disagree with me on this, but by god this game could not get me to care about customizing my own ship. I pretty much kept with the basic ship the whole game, avoided every single enemy I could and mostly just bit the bullet so I could get to new worlds as quickly as possible. And most of the time I didn’t really mind it, UNTIL THE LAST GUMMI MISSION. The way the camera controls and the vertical and horizontal controls fuck each other up is so fucking stupid and trying to navigate that damn ship through tight and tiny corridors only for the camera to have a piss fit every time I so much as skiff by a wall made me so fucking mad why did they do this the rest of the game the missions are in wide open space plains so why force me into a bunch of tight corridors at the very last minute laskdjsldsd oh my god it was terrible 

ANYWAY moving on to much more fun stuff to talk about, how about them Disney worlds, huh? Might as well talk about my thoughts on each one of them, since they all offered such unique experiences that came together SO damn nicely: 

Olympus was, in my opinion, an excellent way to kick off the game. You get plenty of room to explore and see exactly what’s new in terms of gameplay and the game gives you chances to learn those moves and practice them in a nice, controlled environment. The world itself is lush and lovely and quite varied, with Thebes as an entire city environment to explore, the mountain to climb up and avoid Titans on (excellent first real bosses in the game btw I was so hype throughout that entire fight) and the beautiful environment of Olympus itself to slide and glide through). I was also pleasantly surprised in just how much the world set up for the rest of the game, kicking off Sora’s whole arc of having to get stronger throughout the game (more on that later), showing what Pete and Maleficent are up to (again more on that later), showing us that the Organization is still kickin and a threat, and basically getting us hype for everything else that’s to come! I’ll give Olympus an 8/10 I’d say if I had to score it lol

Next up in terms of full worlds to explore is the Toy Box and DAMN this world was impressive. They really did a GREAT job making you feel like a toy exploring a much larger world around you. Most of this level did take place at Galaxy Toys but I really don’t see that as a restriction since the place is MASSIVE and so much fun to navigate and pick out all those little details I mentioned above. Controlling the robots in this level as a BLAST in every way possible, and I do love all the little nods and references they make back to Toy Story itself in this world. Buzz and Woody were great to have along for the ride and I really appreciated how they were actually involved in the plot points of the world (like seriously, Woody fuckin telling Young Xehanort off will forever be one of my favorite KH moments oh my god). Imo this one was for sure one of my favorites, 9/10

After that, we have Corona and I was really excited about this world and I do think they did a great job with it. The environments are lush and absolutely beautiful (as is, again, the level’s music), and there are so many fun little moments in this level (having a splash fight with Rapunzel was PURE as was the entire dancing minigame imo adorable and so much fun). Its just... idk, for some reason i feel like I wasn’t as... engaged in this world as I was with some of the others? Its more or less just the story of Tangled imo, but Sora, Donald, and Goofy are just sorta... there. Hell, there are points where the trio just up and disappears from the Tangled plot and don’t even come into play until much later on which is sorta... why? I get that ya have a lot to convey in a short amount of time, but damn if Tangled wasn’t the perfect world for a KH game and it just felt like the story of it was... not as great as it should have been? Idk maybe I just wanted more bonding between the trio and the Tangled characters, and what we got was fine but I still wanted... more . So yeah, this one gets a 6/10 from me. 

Next up I went to Monstropolis and this one was also a pretty great time. Exploring the factory is a lot of fun and though it is kind of standard in terms of gameplay, everything else here is really great. The humor in this level is especially sublime and I love how the trinity trio plays off Mike, Sully, and Boo imo its pure as can be. And once again we have the Disney characters taking active engagement in the plot of the world (seriously Sully just yeeting Vanitas through several doors like he’s the lil piece of goth trash that he is is right up there with that scene of Woody and YX) So yeah not a ton to say about it, but I liked it a lot. 7/10. 

After Monstropolis, I went to Arendelle and by god this world was way more than I was expecting it to be. Seriously I LOVED how the plot of Frozen worked so naturally into this level, this was honestly much better than how Corona did it if you ask me. We actually got to see moments of connection between Sora and characters like Elsa and Anna and so on and it was great. Plus oh my god that Let It Go sequence was INCREDIBLE the animation on that was simply STUNNING! As for gameplay, I gotta say it was another fun one. The ice labyrinth was sorta meh, but exploring the mountain was a great time (and led to a lot of fun snark between the Trinity Trio imo) and the snowy environments here were just beautiful. Sledding down the mountain was a blast, and having Marshmallow to help out as a brief companion was unexpected but adorable. So yeah this was another one of my absolute favs. 9/10. 

After Arendelle though... things... fuckin tanked. The Caribbean was the goddamn worst part of this game for me, and not just because I haven’t seen the movies and therefore can’t really get a ton of enjoyment out of the characters and the story. Even beside that this world was just damn tedious. I thought the whole ship thing was gonna be fun at first, but then it just turned into an absolute shitshow, with enemy ships unfairly disappearing and reappearing and then completely blasting your ass (btw the ship is fuckin slow as hell so its hard to navigate (and yes I get that its a big pirate ship, but I don’t fucking care this was supposed to be fun so why isn’t it fun???) And don’t even get me started on that whole collecting white crabs bullshit imo that was just about pretty fucking pointless tbh so yeah suffice to say I didn’t have a fun time with this one. It had nice music tho I’ll give it that. And the swimming controls weren’t that bad so yeah. That’s about all the nice things I can say bout it. 3/10.

But GOD did the game ever make up for it when I got to San Fransokyo. I already really love Big Hero 6, so getting to explore the world of it was just GREAT.  The fight on the bridge was a great introduction and exploring the city was AMAZING. Everything felt so HUGE and there was SO much to see (so many buildings to run up!!!). Plus the boss battle against Evil Baymax or whatever was the SHIT in this level, seriously it was so much fun. And hey, it had a really solid original story to it too! I love how the game went out of its way to give each member of Big Hero 6 so much of their original personality from the movie, and it allowed them all a chance to interact with Sora, Donald, and Goofy to really make it seem like unique and engaging bonds were being formed. This world honestly had me so invested and I loved it so much, I’d say its probably my favorite of the entire game. 10/10.

And yeah so those are all the Disney worlds. Gonna not really talk about the last two worlds cause they’re more story heavy than gameplay heavy and speaking of which... guess its about that time. 

First of all, I gotta say that one of my favorite things about this game was its dialogue. Most of the VAs did a pretty damn solid job but the main characters especially so had a lot of emotion put into them. This game has so many fun little chatty moments, and the writing here is probably the most natural its ever been in a KH game. There’s so many fun little moments of sassy banter (between Sora, Donald, and Goofy in particular, seriously I could listen to those three yap at each other all goddamn day its excellent). SO much personality leaks through every character in just about every word they say and I really appreciate it and the effort put into it all! 

Now with that out of the way, the story oh god the story. So I should probably say that, for a preexisting KH fan like myself, this is the KH game that was actually the easiest to understand what’s going on in? Crazy, I know, but this game actually explains most of the off the wall things that happen in it in a way that anyone could readily understand, and personally I really think that benefits it. I think the plot only really derailed itself for me like... once (the whole explanation behind Repliku jfc what a mess). But there were still a few things that the game didn’t explain that I’ll again, talk about later. As for the story itself... 

One of the things i REALLY Loved about it was the character arc Sora had in this game. Riding off of DDD, the game really does set him up as the defeated underdog at the start of it and he feels bad about that and as a result you feel bad and wanna help this sad lil twink bb son get stronger!!! He just wants to help people but he can’t because he doesn’t have the power of waking but the great thing is he forces himself past that handicap and helps them anyway just by being himself and that’s beautiful. I already loved my precious sunshine son already, but this game made me absolutely adore him like seriously, he’s skyrocketed to one of my favorite characters in any fictional medium as a result of this game. He’s such a silly dork who is clearly having fun in all these Disney worlds as he’s off makin new friends, but its clear there’s a certain... anxiety lingering behind all of that. The kid as a lot of pressure on his shoulders and eventually it breaks him and that fucking scene broke me. But in the end, he still fuckin rises above it and kicks ass and then he fuckin disappears but that’s another point to bring up later on cause oh my god but basically the gist is, Sora is my absolute precious son boyo and I would gladly die for him oh my god

Donald and Goofy are also a TON of fun to watch in this game. I may crack jokes about Donald bitching at Sora a lot but you can tell he does it out of a true place of caring. Tbh there were a few Trinity Trio moments in this game that honest to god choked me up a bit, especially near the end. Mickey is sorta downplayed in this game, which is sorta whatever, but I did appreciate Riku in this game a lot (the brief spots where i got a chance to play as him were great). Kairi was... under fucking utilized again and I can’t deny that’s disappointing, and honestly same goes for Axel, though he DID have his moments, especially towards the end. And imo It was a delight to get all the other returning KH kids. Reuniting Aqua, Terra, and Ventus was beautiful, as was the reunion between Roxas, Xion, and Axel. Kinda wish we had gotten more Namine, but I’m glad she got her happy ending all the same. I also appreciate the Twilight Trio in this game, that one scene were they annoy the shit out of Ansem was the best. As for the baddies, same old same old though the game did sorta make them more interesting here and there. Xehanort’s “redemption” is sorta whatever to me, I kinda didn’t really care about what happened to him as much as I did my kids all coming together and being happy together and for the most part that’s what i got so I can’t say I didn’t walk away (mostly) happy as a result. I really fuckin do think the game could have done more with a handful of its bad guys, like they could have maybe implied more about the whole Xigbar=Luxu thing, and imo god did poor Vanitas get the short end of the stick I was expecting so much more on that front and I was sorely disappointed. But for the most part, I liked how this really was a huge KH reunion of heroes and villains alike. In that sense, it felt like one big tribute to the series’ entire history and for that, I love it. 

So I guess that means the only thing I can talk about now is the ending. Oh god that ending. Fuckin thing kept me up all night long last night and had me stressed as fuck this morning while I was at work but honestly? I think I’m over it now. Yeah it is certainly a cliffhanger (especially now that we have that secret movie which raises so many more questions but at the very least it does establish that Sora isn’t dead so I can appreciate that). And hey, it implies that more Kingdom Hearts games are to come, so I can’t really be mad about that since I’m pretty much absolute KH trash at this point. But yeah, that ending got me shook and tbh I think that’s what it was supposed to to, be incredibly bittersweet and all and imo it completely succeeded in that regard. 

Anyway before I go, just a few more points of disappointment I suppose that I haven’t touched on. Pete and Maleficent might as well not have even fucking been in the game for as few times as they appeared imo and the game also sorta just dropped the whole thing with Demyx and Vexen in a similar manner, as well as the whole thing about Larxene, Marluxia, Luxord, and Demyx “unlocking their inner keyblade heritage” or whatever imo game fuckin had too much KHX baiting if you ask me (that one scene where you use a bunch of KHX keyblades to murder a fuckton of heartless was really cool tho). Tbh I feel like the game had several moments of intrigue that it kinda more or less dropped the ball on, like for instance three examples in particular include that bit in Corona where Marluxia straight up knocks Sora the hell out and yeah that’s all he does, imo why even fucking bother with that when the kid just wakes up like nothing’s happened to seconds later? (to get the Trinity Trio out of the plot of Tangled, that’s what jfc), similar thing in Arendelle during the scene where Elsa freezes Anna’s heart, Sora for some reason gasps in pain and clenches his own heart at that exact same moment and the game never fucking bothers to explain why and that’s frustrating. Same thing goes for why Sora disappeared from the cover of Pooh’s book (lol guess that was fuckin foreshadowing the ending) the game offers a non explaination for it that is just... really not that conclusive so why even bother making a big deal out of it in the first place if you’re just gonna drop it? Plus there were a lot of other... smaller moments that I thought the game was gonna do so much more with but didn’t; the moment when Ven and Roxas see each other for the first time and realize they look basically the same but at no point do we actually see them exchange dialogue; Terra and Riku actually having a fucking conversation imo; same thing with any real interaction between Xion and Kairi; or how about the game not actually fucking explaining how the organization brought Xion back at all like wasn’t she a part of Sora how the hell did you do that game you have to EXPLAIN 

Sigh... but anyway, even despite those frustrations, i still absolutely adored my time with KH3. Yeah like I said it wasn’t perfect, but by god was it worth the wait. The game was pure, sheer, fun and its story got me so damn emotional that I actually CRIED at several points of it even though KH has never made me legit cry before. And really? If this stupid as hell game can make this brittle old heart do that, then you know its a good one. 

TLDR: Kingdom Hearts 3 is hella good, it made me cry like a little bitch, kinda fuckin dropped the ball on some points but whatever, and kept me up all goddamn night in existential dread over my precious son’s ambiguous fate. Imo fuckin 10/10 right there I love it and can’t wait to pick it up and play it again

[boldmistakes]

white beaches & northern lights (seblaine, 1/1)

summary: In the years since the world got totally fucked by an apocalypse of the infected, Sebastian Smythe had created a new reality which operated on two very simple principles. One was survive. The other was keep Blaine safe, no matter what. Unfortunately, leaving the failing safety of a Quarantine Zone would put these goals to brutal test. [Zombie!AU in The Last of Us verse] [~12k] [A03] warnings: well, it’s zombies! violence, gore, death, past child death, dismemberment notes: a WIP from last year for seblaine sunday’s zombies prompt for oct. 8th, polished up and posted to prove i’m not dead! set in the ‘verse of the amazing game the last of us, where the zombies are caused by a fungal infection with various stages -- more details at AO3.

--

“We need to get out.”

Blaine nodded. Down on the street, a sobbing woman was forced to her knees by a soldier and shot. Sebastian reached out, tugging Blaine away from the window.

“You don’t need to see that.”

“Don’t I?” Blaine asked. “Shouldn’t someone?”

Sebastian cottoned on. “Plenty of people saw that. Have seen that.”

“It doesn’t count if you don’t care.” Blaine’s troubled gaze slid away, and then, slowly, he said, “I don’t want to stop seeing.”

“You won’t.” Sebastian ached to extend his reach, to wrap an arm around Blaine, hold him ... but Blaine still wore that ring. A barrier as sure as the walls of the Quarantine Zone they lived in -- and just as much of an illusion of safety, if you asked Sebastian. “C’mon. Let’s pack.”

“Okay.”

Blaine didn’t move, and Sebastian tugged again, more insistent. Blaine went, but it didn’t feel like acquiescence. Sebastian grit his teeth against it, and with teasing and reassurance in turn he managed to get Blaine to pack up his meager possessions. He didn’t comment when Blaine picked up a blood-stained felt rabbit and pressed it to his face, politely turning his gaze away. These were little things Sebastian knew how to navigate since Everything, Then, The End Of The Fucking World and Its Fucked-Up Sequels, whatever you wanted to call it. In today’s world, you made your own reality, and Sebastian ...

Sebastian had designed his with Blaine in mind. He’d had no other choice.

--

The QZs were supposed to protect them, but well, put armed maniacs in charge of keeping the peace and shit inevitably hit the fan. Armed resistances sprang up in return, Fireflies and riots and crazy-rage fires sweeping whole districts, with anyone not feeling suicidal stuck in the middle as they tried to make a living in a dying city.

Back in the Everything-Then-End Of The Fucking World, the QZs had been a beacon of hope. Relative safety from the infected, shelter, heat, supplies. Everyone had flocked to their promise. Sebastian had too, after a hellish time searching for signs of life in his family, his boyfriend, his sanity because fuck , these things weren’t supposed to happen.. Had heaved a sigh of relief when he’d seen the razor wire-and-concrete protections.

Then he’d had to take that breath again when he’d come across Blaine Anderson, of all people, in a rations line. Blaine, and Kurt, and their daughter, a little sweet thing. Old grievances were put aside so they could protect each other. Solidarity through circumstance, or maybe growing up, or maybe need before want. It had worked, for a while. Then, with time, with the hunger and the slips in the barriers and rising death counts, with the chaos of trapped animals chewing at their legs, it became just Sebastian and Blaine and his daughter.

Then just Sebastian and Blaine. Alone together.

That was years ago, but Blaine had never quite recovered. Always seemed to have a foot in another world, a world where likely his husband and daughter were still alive. His own reality to help him survive, and Sebastian couldn’t blame him. Who didn’t fantasize about an escape? Well. Not Sebastian. He had always accepted things as they came. That was probably why Blaine had once called him heartless.

(“You just don’t … care. ”

Blaine hadn’t even been angry. )

It was good Sebastian was cold. It was good he knew to be ruthless. It was what had kept the two of them alive.

So what if he told himself Blaine appreciated it, deep down?

--

They left come dawn, sneaking out through tunnels Sebastian had learned smuggling. There was no legal exit from a QZ. So desperate to keep the human race alive you weren’t even allowed to be suicidal -- or, as Sebastian had once heard it, a pioneer .

Nothing new left to find now, though. Just relics, modern history in frozen tableaus.

Sebastian had been as far as the furthest outlet mall out west before, but now they were headed south, needing warmer climates. He kept an eye on the world around them, suspicious of the unfamiliarity, even though he must have walked up this cracked blacktop highway years ago to get to the QZ in the first place. His own car might still be stalled somewhere along the hundred mile winding stretch of it, like all the other stripped cars scattered over the road like abandoned toys.

(“The cow goes moo, the piggy goes oink, the bunny goes -- uh -- hop?” )

Sebastian grabbed Blaine’s hand as Blaine started to lag, long days spent lying in his bed staring at the ceiling punishing him now. Blaine stayed at their hands but said nothing, didn’t grip back. Not a surprise, but Sebastian still frowned. Turned his eyes forward. Kept alert. The only time he let go was when they had to separate to climb over a car, but then they’d reunite, the bridge of their arms a tether -- and though Blaine faltered, he never stopped.

They didn’t speak. The only sound was their footsteps, the rustle of their bags and gas masks against their hips, the sounds of nature reclaiming wild space in whistling calls of wind and bird, the whir of insect activity, the occasional coyote howl.

It was … nice. Nicer than Sebastian had expected, since he’d stuck to more travelled pathways before. The greenery was alive, flowers bursting ripely, bushes hanging heavily with berries, the air fresh and sweet the way it had been in the dull Ohio springtime, driving past green fields. There was also nobody around for miles, infected or otherwise.

“It’s good,” Sebastian told Blaine, as they passed by a burnt-out husk of a gas station whose lettered sign read SURVIVORS INSIDE. “You can’t trust anyone who lives outside the walls. Total maniacs.”

“We’re going to live outside the walls,” Blaine said after a moment.

“Yeah.” Sebastian hefted a shoulder. “And I wouldn’t advise anyone to trust us either.”

Blaine’s gaze flicked back at the gas station, and he frowned.

“That’s a terrible thing to say.”

“Me, then.”

“Still terrible.”

“I’m not trustworthy.”

“I trust you.”

Sebastian smiled at that. “Well, you’re the only one who should.”

Blaine nodded slowly and looked away. “Do you trust me?”

That surprised Sebastian, who paused them a moment, the sun warm on his back as he turned, tipping Blaine’s chin up with his free hand.

“Of course I do. Who else?”

Blaine smiled, and for a second he could be seventeen again, their first meeting, sweet and faraway from here. Then it faded, his expression undone, and Sebastian set them walking once more, brutally smothering any disappointment.

Those smiles had never been for him, anyways.

--

For a long time they were just … walking.

They slept during the hottest parts of the spring days, in shifts, then doing most their travelling at night, their flashlights doing the work where the moon failed them. If either of them had been afraid of the dark before, they’d gotten over it by getting a crash course in what went bump in the night during the whole apocalypse thing, and there was something refreshing in a world of caution about being fearless as they wandered. Old country roads gone to weed or major highways whose lights had long since gone out, it was all the same, just a path. In the blackest nights when the moon was gone and the clouds heavy and they couldn’t even really see each other, they still had the warm grip of their joined hands, and that was as good as roadsigns for Sebastian.

Since they had no real destination, it was, as high school motivational posters might have said, all about the journey.

(Sebastian had a silly fantasy about a white tropical beach somewhere, coconut and crab, just the two of them, but it hadn’t been a reality when planes existed so it was even less likely now.)

Sometimes people said the cold stopped the infection in its tracks. Sebastian thought that was bullshit; the only thing proven to help was gas masks to keep out the pollen and amputation of any area that had been bitten or scratched -- and the latter was heavily debated. It was, he felt, and Blaine agreed, better not to freeze your ass off in snows and ice just because you thought Canada sounded neat .

“If we make good time we should avoid this winter,” Sebastian said over dinner (or rather, breakfast) of squirrel stew that night.

Blaine nodded, and abruptly said, “I’d never want to do an Ohio winter without a house.”

“Definitely not.”

“It makes you think about homeless people,” Blaine continued, stirring his stew slowly. Sebastian hoped that wasn’t a commentary on his cooking; skinning something cleanly was harder than it looked, even with how good he’d gotten with a knife. “How hard it would have been for them.”

“Technically, we are homeless,” Sebastian pointed out. He paused, then laughed. “Christ, now there’s an idea that would have made a younger me actually cry.”

Blaine laughed too. Sebastian’s smile grew wider. “I can’t see you crying.”

“I’m sure it happened once or twice, not that I can remember.”

“Uh-huh …” Blaine took a bite, chewed, and there came the overcast shadow to his unusually bright expression; Sebastian sighed and returned his attention to his own food.

That was definitely gristle. Sebastian made a face, flicking it into the flames.

The fire cracked, pop. Threw embers. The light of it gleamed on Blaine’s wedding ring that slid down his finger, sized for more well-fed times. Blaine was terrified of losing it, and Sebastian was startled to realize Blaine slept with his hand curled in a fist to protect it. Before, they’d had separate bedrooms, and that door was always closed to him. Now, under the sun and stars, there were no secrets.

“You could put it on a chain, you know.”

Blaine blinked at him. “What?”

“The ring,” Sebastian said. “Your ring.”

Blaine offered his hand out. “It’s a wedding ring.”

“It being on the ring finger was a bit of a tip-off, yes.”

“Then you know I can’t take it off.”

“It’s not like I’m suggesting you toss it,” Sebastian said. “Just … move it elsewhere.”

Blaine returned to eating, shaking his head. “No.”

“C’mon,” Sebastian said. “It could be like -- closer to your heart. Whatever.”

“It’s a wedding ring,” Blaine snapped. “It stays on the ring finger. Discussion ended.”

“Fine,” Sebastian ground out, “don’t come crying to me if you lose it.” Blaine flinched, and Sebastian instantly felt like a jackass. “Hey, I didn’t mean …”

“I’m going to bed,” Blaine said, setting his half-eaten food down. “The ground. Sleep. Whatever.”

“You just woke up an hour ago --”

“I’m tired.”

With a petulance ill-suited to a man creeping towards forty, he retreated to the softest patch of ground under the tree they’d picked, and rolled over, putting his back to Sebastian. Sebastian shook his head, and though he’d lost his appetite himself, forced himself to continue eating.

He’d choke on as much gristle as it took to be strong enough to survive.

--

A few days later, after a series of thunderstorms that soaked them through and flooded creeks they’d been crossing, shunting their path back to civilization, they came to a mid-sized town -- or maybe village was a better descriptor. There was no sign, so just Nowhereville, West Virginia by Sebastian’s guess -- and it was the first tall buildings they’d seen in awhile, silently agreeing it was smarter to keep to less-travelled paths after a herd of clicker had driven them off their last highway. The sunset was brilliantly red, and felt unnecessarily ominous as it painted the world around them in bloody shades.

“I don’t like it,” Sebastian said, staring at the quiet streets and red-brick buildings. It was like something from a Rockwell. “We should go around.”

Blaine didn’t say anything, or even nod, but he stepped off the main road into the tall grasses that ringed the village, which was sheltered by a wide river on one side, and  a bluff of reddish dirt on the other. Sebastian followed, keeping an eye on the town as it fell to the left behind them. It was a half-hour’s hike to get to the top, legs straining and trying not to slip on the soft dirt, before they finally hit a peak crowned by a short stone wall and a plaque referencing some old Colonial bastard. Sebastian leaned against it as Blaine hunkered down to retie his laces, taking a sip from his water flask, eyes closing briefly.

If they could trust others, this was the kind of place you’d claim. Set up a community, farm the nearby land, take advantage of how naturally defensible it was with the bluff on one side and the river on other. As was, chances were somebody else had had that idea and they were waiting down there like jackals to snag unsuspecting travellers …

“Oh god!”  

There was startling energy there and Sebastian’s eyes flew open.

“What?”

“Look.” Blaine pointed. It only took a breath to spot the problem: down in the town square there was a flurry of movement, still visible in the fading light. A small group was backing away from a rush of runners; one gunshot, two; a runner went down, but then the gunman was hit by an unexpected clicker whose rattling shriek echoed all the way up to where they stood.

Nobody was screaming. They knew better than that; sound attracted more.

“They’re dead meat,” Sebastian reported, watching as the still-living trio rushed to climb on top two cars crushed together, then taking fire at the clicker. Judging by how it kept clawing hungrily after them, they missed. “Terrible aim.”

“We should help,” Blaine said urgently, and Sebastian grabbed his elbow before he could do something crazy.

“We should die, is what you’re saying.”

“Sebastian!” Blaine so rarely said his name; it made Sebastian’s grip loosen, and Blaine jerked away from him.

“Don’t do it --”

He made another grab for Blaine, but he was darting down the bluff, boots kicking up dust as he skidded dangerously fast through red dirt and grass. Sebastian swore, and for a moment that went on far longer than he cared to admit, he contemplated walking away. Finally turning his back on the depressed deadweight he had saddled himself to because, what, they had known each other for all of five minutes in high school and Sebastian liked his ass …

You could be free, something whispered in the back of his head. Relying only on yourself.

“I need someone to watch my back when I sleep,” he said aloud, and it was some old desire to hold onto appearances that sent him skidding down that hill.

He couldn’t be the crazy guy who talked to himself in public. He couldn’t be -- alone -- with his thoughts.

“Christ,” Sebastian muttered when he caught up with Blaine at the bottom of the bluff, Blaine drawing his gun and cocking it. “At least put your mask on. That’s too many for this place to be clean.”

Blaine glared at him. “I’m not stupid.” He tugged his mask on, and Sebastian mimicked him, hiding the roll of his eyes. Then his own gun was in hand as they crept silently around a large old church; the shrieks of the runners and the chittering of the clicker was louder here. They were making good time before a shift on stone announced a runner emerging from behind an overturned car for them; Blaine slammed it in the chin with the butt of his gun, and Sebastian stepped in smoothly with his knife, grabbing the runner’s hair and slamming the blade deep into its rotten, mushroom-filled skull. It choked, then died.

They were alive, in a way. Sebastian never did get over that oddness.

“C’mon,” Blaine said, then set off again. Sebastian dropped the body and followed. They got to the square to find at least seven runners swarming up the overturned cars, grabbing at the threesome with needy hands, cries rising and falling like broken waves. Blaine took a step forward; one of the survivors, a young woman, saw them and screamed.

“Please,” she begged, and then her stomach was torn open.

“Blaine,” Sebastian murmured, reaching for him, but Blaine didn’t need to hear it. He stopped, shoulders slumping, and they silently watched the strangers die. Once the last of their screams had faded, he finally made contact, cradling Blaine’s shaking shoulder.

Time to go. Blaine turned around, and Sebastian couldn’t read his expression through the flat glass planes and dark branching mouthpiece, but he knew him. He offered his hand, and Blaine accepted it, his gun dangling sadly from his other. Sebastian squeezed Blaine’s limp hand, and then they walked off together, carefully skirting the feeding frenzy.

Not that they actually needed to eat you. No, then this whole thing wouldn’t be pointless, would it?

--

They stopped at midday, and Blaine offered to take first watch.

Sebastian lay down in the shade, throwing his arm over his eyes. He tried to sleep, but Blaine was too quiet; Sebastian peeked, and saw that Blaine was sitting there, knees drawn up to his chest, staring off to nowhere as he slowly spun his wedding ring around his finger.

Kurt had lost his before he died; Sebastian had noticed that. He’d pretended not to notice that Kurt had lost it by throwing it at Blaine after a blazing row where Sebastian had lain his bed and felt like he was eight again, listening to his parents build up to their spectacular climax of a divorce.

That was why he had never gotten married. Well, that an inability to hold onto a relationship for more than six months and the end of the world. At least one of those hadn’t been his fault, too.

“You’re thinking loudly,” Blaine suddenly said.

Sebastian lowered his arm. “ I’m thinking loudly?”

“Yes,” Blaine said firmly, then hesitantly continued. “Do you … want to talk about it?”

Must be a good day, then. Or it was just the recent reminder of their mortality.

“I’m fine,” Sebastian said. “Don’t worry about it, tiger.”

Like Blaine needed more to worry about. Like Sebastian had anything to worry about, except for the obvious.

“Okay.” Blaine dropped his hands, and his chin to his knees. “Sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize.”

“Okay,” Blaine repeated. “It’s fine. You sleep.”

Sebastian nodded, and shifted his arm back over his eyes. Sleep still didn’t come, but he tried to think a little quieter, for Blaine’s sake.

--

Weeks passed. Summer was coming in, hot and clinging.

Under the moonlight through an apple grove they spotted a swollen, misshapen giant of a creature that moved in lumbering steps, swarmed by smaller runners and clickers like a queen bee with its hive. A bloater; Sebastian had heard of them, but never seen one. The stage of infection that came before they ended up splattered on the ground somewhere, releasing spores.

“Jesus,” Blaine breathed, once they’d put a hundred yards between them and it.

“I wouldn’t want to have to take that down,” Sebastian said, with great feeling.

Blaine nodded emphatically. “Definitely not.”

They saw bridges collapsed under the weight of too many cars. They saw a small nomadic group living in a graveyard who shot at them when they’d stepped too close; Sebastian had felt a rare thrill of real fear when stone had chipped near Blaine’s head in an explosive spray. After a gunfight they’d gotten away, then saw a towering tree growing through a car in the middle of a highway. They saw rotting runners nailed to trees, still squirming and hissing, and rotting humans swinging from tree branches. They saw a baseball diamond turned to a field of blood-red flowers, swaying gently in the breeze. They saw a lake with a dozen canoes drifting eerily, unoccupied. They saw two clickers melded together in one misshapen thing. They saw a thousand deer, tails white against the night as they ran silently through the grass.

Sebastian saw Blaine smile more. Saw some of that tension slip from his shoulders, saw him actually talking. It came in fits and spurts, a rusty tap needing work, but it was like … it was like Blaine was coming alive again.

“I love this,” he’d even said one night, staring up at the miles of unspoiled starfield. “It’s so beautiful.”

“Yeah,” Sebastian agreed, resettling his backpack. “That’s a plus for no light pollution.”

Blaine smiled. “I’ve always wanted to see the northern lights,” he offered. “It would be easier now.”

Sebastian grinned back. “I think we’re headed the wrong direction for that.”

“True.” Blaine shrugged. “But who knows where life will take us.”

“Yeah, I never would have guessed ‘zombie apocalypse’ myself …”

He’d never called it that before, but at some point, you had to accept the obvious.

Blaine’s eyes widened. “Don’t call it that!”

“What? Why not?” Sebastian squinted back.

“You’re not supposed to,” Blaine explained. “It’s … tacky.”

“Tacky? Did I skip over Miss Manner’s Guide To The Living Dead?”

“Obviously.” Blaine nudged him. “Besides, they don’t eat people. Not really.”

“That’s true …”

“I hate it,” Blaine admitted, tone turning thoughtful. “It’s such a waste. All this death, for nothing.”

It paralleled his own thoughts so neatly that Sebastian had to reach over and wrap an arm around Blaine’s shoulder, pausing their pace through farmfield furrows to half-hug him. Blaine froze, let out a slow breath, then relaxed. Almost pressed himself against Sebastian fully … but then, before long, Blaine pulled himself away.

“We should keep moving,” Blaine said, tugging his backpack strap straight.

“Yeah. Let’s.” Sebastian followed him; Blaine didn’t take his usual grip of Sebastian’s hand, and Sebastian couldn’t quite bring himself to reach out.

It felt like something had shifted, but he couldn’t say what.

--

Summer became fall, their feet ached, and they accidentally walked into a city at twilight because the only other roads had collapsed into impossible-to-traverse canyons of junk and infected just begging to give you either tetanus or a bad case of life after death.

“Should we go around it?” Blaine asked, staring at the concrete jungle with concern.

“It would take too long,” Sebastian said, which Blaine already knew, because he nodded.

“We’ll be fine,” Blaine said, and then moved to climb over the schoolbus blocking the way. Sebastian followed, and they paused on top of its rusted yellow hood, staring out over the miles of stalled and stripped cars. It was like a ship graveyard. Sharing a look, they carefully jumped down and made their way into the heart of the city, weaving through the wreckage. They hadn’t been in a city since the QZ; it was odd to be swallowed up by concrete again. This was greener, though, and falling apart in a way even the most ragged quarters of the QZ never had been. The stink of moss and vines in close quarters, even a deer running by in leaping strides.

There were also no infected and no people, that they could see. A ghost town.

Sebastian stepped a little closer to Blaine, but kept his hands free, one resting on his gun, head turning slowly to listen for any sounds.

Night fell, the moon high and painting deep pockets of shadows that seemed to pulse when you looked at them too long. His foot hit a rock. It bounced and echoed, skittering across the sidewalk. Blaine looked back at him reproachfully, and Sebastian winced in apology. Blaine’s hand was on his gun now, and they picked up their pace while still trying to move silently.

The buildings were getting taller. Spindly skyscrapers, some apartment buildings tipping like a jenga tower mid-fall, stately stone buildings looking unchanged except for end-of-days graffiti and threats. The streets, oddly, were cleaner. Odd was not good. Sebastian gave up on pretense and unholstered his gun, slipping his finger to caress the trigger. They were coming up to a broad four-way intersection, which looked so untouched it could have been the Before if it weren’t for the absence of streetlights and faces and cars. Just wide-open spaces ...

A clatter sounded. Blaine’s head shifted. They stepped aside in tandem, moving into the shadows of an old bank, and then froze at the sight of two men, bearing machine guns, turning the corner. The pair talked quietly, too quietly to be heard, but their bearing was casual. They must not have seen the intruders. Blaine glanced at him, eyes wide, and Sebastian nodded slowly.

Guns like those they hadn’t seen since the QZ either. Guns like those meant resources, and you didn’t fuck with people who had resources unless you had any to give back, and they were down to eating snails. Sebastian had an inappropriate, longing surge for a little restaurant in Paris that he would never see again, and then his mother, overseas with it, and then he and Blaine started to move once the duo had their backs to them. They turned the corner to the opposite direction where the men had come from, and stopped at the sight of an encampment in the street, spilling out from large buildings. Armed adults moved around the barriers, smiling, chatting, faint music even playing.

He’d never been so unhappy to hear Niel Diamond. It left the two of them like deer in headlights.

“Dammit,” Sebastian hissed, and they slowly began to retreat. Except once they turned around, they saw that the patrolling pair were coming back … and then they looked up, and saw them right back.

“Hey! You two!”

“Run,” Sebastian ordered, but Blaine started to raise his hands slowly.

“We just want to pass through,” Blaine called to the men. “We don’t want any trouble.”

“Put your guns down,” one man, a redhead, ordered, after a glance at his bearded friend.

“Don’t do it,” Sebastian told Blaine, his finger tense on the trigger. “Don’t.”

“Only if you lower yours,” Blaine said, ignoring Sebastian without a look at him. “I’ll put mine on the ground, slowly, just please, lower yours too. We can work this out, gentlemen --”

Gentlemen? Blaine was going to get them killed. Sebastian couldn’t see anything, not the guns or the men’s faces or even Blaine. All he could think of was his aching feet, and the comfortable weight of his own gun in his hand. Mouth dry, his arm swung up, and everything zeroed in on the red hole that blasted into one of the redhead’s forehead.

The echo of the gunshot seemed delayed, the second one tripping on it. Both men dropped, and Sebastian grabbed Blaine’s arm as alarmed shouts came from the direction of the camp.

“Sebastian!”

He ran, dragging Blaine along. There was resistance, but it slackened when a burst of machine gun fire chased them to a clear street. Someone was shouting at them, and something split a line of fire across his leg. They ducked around the next corner, and Blaine pointed to an alley; they ran for it, spidering up and over a chainlink fence, another alley, then shouldering up against an ajar red door that tore the pair of them through a blood-stained coffee shop, then out a shattered window. Down the street. Around a corner. The shouting was becoming more indistinct, distant threats that had no words, only intent; Blaine pointed at a mall across the way.

They ran, breath panting, feet setting up a thunderous pattern, Sebastian white-knuckling Blaine’s arm in his hold; more gunfire, shouts, but not close, like hearing a wolf’s howl on a cold night, they needed to get inside -- no time for niceties, Sebastian raised his gun and fired again, shattering a display window in a diamond spray that they leapt through, glass scoring their cheeks and a mannequin sent flying to skid across the oil-slick floor. They didn’t stop, making deeper into the mall, down an escalator, past a fountain that bubbled with a collapsed infected who sprayed spores, couldn’t risk stopping to put on masks so they just held their breath and dived through to the other side, lungs burning, legs burning, everything tense as the hard, rattling breath that begged to escape --

Clear air, but an obstacle; the roof caved in past at least four stories, sunlight streaming down on the mess of beams and plaster and concrete that formed a mountain to block the way forward.

“There!” Blaine said, pointing to a small gap where a beam rested against the wall. Sebastian eyed it doubtfully, but they had no choice -- they both heard an echo --

“There!”

-- in the distance that was no real echo, but the dogs at their heels. They rushed the narrow, dark crack, more an absence than an entrance, and Sebastian tried to nudge Blaine through it first, but Blaine shoved at him instead.

“It doesn’t look stable,” Blaine insisted hurriedly, eyeing the structure; he wasn’t wrong. “If anything moves when you go through, I have more of a chance getting in second.”

That was true. Sebastian moved to the gap, slouching to fit, and Blaine made an impatient sound.

“You have to let go of me!”

Sebastian looked back, unsure, then realized he was still gripping Blaine’s arm. He let go, to see that Blaine’s arm had gone white, a handspan of red marking the boundary where the blood needed to rush out. Sebastian opened his mouth to apologize, but Blaine shoved him.

“Move! ”

Sebastian shook his head, trying to clear his muddled thoughts -- was this even a good idea, he shouldn’t leave Blaine behind, he had to leave Blaine behind, that dead weight -- then moved to slip into the gap. His shoulder brushed the beam; it groaned, shuddered, stopped. Holding his breath, Sebastian inched his way through the gap as fast as he could, feeling his way through the dark.

“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon,” he muttered under his breath, fighting the urge to turn back.

Blaine would be fine. They still had time. Sebastian shut his eyes for a moment, and soldiered on, groping out the open side of the gap --

Something grabbed his arm.

Sebastian’s blood ran cold.

“No --”

It bit down on his wrist, nails tearing into his flesh. Growled. Nausea rose.

“ No! ”

Copper exploded across the tip of Sebastian’s smarting tongue, and he shoved himself through the final bit, tackling the creature that was making work of him, his fingers twitching weakly as nerves severed. They fell to the ground in a tumble that smelled of mildew and death, and Sebastian reared back, pistol whipping the thing across its forehead. The flesh split and poured yellow-black, but it still didn’t release his wrist, and Sebastian aimed the gun, tugged the trigger --

The creature shifted. The bullet went through Sebastian’s mutilated hand and exited out the back of the infected’s skull, blowing an ugly splatter up behind its head. Sebastian exhaled, the edges of his vision going black for a moment, then tried to tug his hand free. It took two tries, and then Sebastian fell back, looking around frantically as he pressed his arm to his chest.

No more infected. But he was -- he was --

“Sebastian!”

Blaine was there, grabbing him.

“What the hell happened --”

“Are they behind us?” Sebastian asked, swaying briefly despite Blaine’s hold on him, the whole world swaying like the earth was buckling.

“Yes, we have to -- no, you can’t -- fuck --”

Blaine let go. Sebastian continued to move with the ocean he’d suddenly found himself in, and kept moving, until pain flared dully along his side as he hit the ground. A flurry of gunshots splitting the air, a loud rumbling -- god, was this really an earthquake? -- and then Blaine was back, grabbing him and hauling him up.

“Get up, Sebastian,” he ordered, voice as cajoling as the one he’d used on his daughter, all those years ago, Sebastian watching them together and so sure Blaine had been destined to be a dad, one of those things Sebastian had never wanted for himself, the ways their lives were never meant to align -- “Get! Up!”

That was more drill sergeant, or maybe coach during practise. Sebastian levered himself up with no conscious decision to do so and Blaine dragged Sebastian’s uninjured arm over his shoulder, wrapping a strong arm around his waist.

“Blaine,” Sebastian managed thickly, then spat blood.

“We’re going to fix this,” Blaine assured him.

“I’m bit,” Sebastian said, and swallowed laughter. “I know it’s not zombies, but Blaine, this is really -- I’m fucking dead.”

“No, you aren’t. I can see the infection, it hasn’t --”

“There’s nothing you can --”

“I don’t believe that!” Then Blaine froze, staring at something; Sebastian blinked eyelids which grew heavier with each thudding heartbeat at the sign declaring a hardware store. An inkling of a horrible idea hit him.

“Blaine, no --”

“We have to.”

Blaine walked them to it, half-dragging Sebastian, who shook his head. That swaying feeling was coming back. He might vomit.

“It’ll be cleared out,” Sebastian said weakly.

“I’ll find something.”

“I’m not sure …”

“I can’t lose you,” Blaine snapped, and his tone was still hard, hard enough to break something in Sebastian, who stopped resisting, let Blaine drag him through the dusty interior that was indeed cleaned out of anything useful. Blaine was muttering under his breath, but Sebastian couldn’t hear anything over the pounding in his ears.

“Blaine …”

“Shh …”

He must have blacked out for a few seconds, yet he was still moving -- what was that smell? Had he thrown up? Or was it something else? Something that smelled like -- engines, his car blew out on the way to a QZ ...

“Sebastian, you can lie down, but you need to hold out your arm. Okay?”

Cajoling, teacher, daddy-voice was back. Sebastian opened his eyes with difficulty, fairly certain the world had spun more since he’d closed them. He was on -- the ground, this was the ground, why was Blaine wrapping a belt around his bicep …?

“Blaine -- what --”

“It’ll be okay.”

“What are you --”

“I just need you to hold still for me, okay, Sebastian, please --”

Sebastian couldn’t move. He hurt too much, blood on fire. He tried to tell Blaine that, but blood and bile bubbled up from his lips instead. Then he saw a gleam in the darkness, bright and cutting, like that damn ring …

Blaine had an ax. Sebastian mangled a cry.

“Blaine, what the fuck --!”

Blaine ignored him. Adjusted his stance. Kissed the ax blade to Sebastian’s arm. God. His arm. The wrist down was mangled red; the wrist up was the pale blue of his veins turning a sick green, climbing higher, interrupted only by laddered torn flesh. A middle-school rhyme came back to him in a distant sing-song: Across the street, not down the road …

“Blaine, stop!”

“I have to -- I’m sorry.”

“You don’t -- don’t --”

Sebastian couldn’t do this. He’d bleed out. Die. He’d survive. Be useless. He couldn’t -- he couldn’t -- that was his arm -- and for the first time ever since the world had fallen apart around him, Sebastian Smythe well and truly panicked.

“No, no, I changed my -- no, stop, Blaine --!”

He tried to jerk away, but he had no strength left. It was like a waking nightmare, frozen, forced to watch the world move around him. Blaine raised the ax.

“I’m sorry,” Blaine said, or shook, voice trembling, as he tightened his grip, knuckles white, that ring. “I have to, I’m sorry --”

No, no, no, this couldn’t be happening, this couldn’t --

“No, Blaine, just let me go --”

“NO!” Blaine was barely anything to him now, blackness stealing what tears welling in his eyes hadn’t, a vague shape beyond his understanding. “Stop moving.”

“Blaine, please --”

“Shh,” Blaine murmured, and his fingers briefly touched Sebastian’s cheek before there was a rustle and a grunt of him lifting the ax again. “It’s okay, shh …”

Blaine swung. Blood sprayed in an arc over both their faces. Sebastian screamed, and everything after that, it wasn’t his to know.

--

He had fevered dreams.

Deer falling to wolves by the thousands, throats torn out, hearts eaten still-beating. Those three people they’d failed to save, getting in one of those beat-up clunkers and driving away, laughing. Kurt, braiding flowers, something about, “For you sweetie --” and his daughter’s laugh, bright and pealing, saying, “Uncle Seb!” the way she’d used to. His mother, falling to the blows of a mob, or maybe just dancing ... Blaine’s voice talking from somewhere too close to be as far away as it sounded, a litany of “I’m sorry”s and “Please don’t leave me”s ... His last boyfriend, blowing skunk-smoke kisses in his face, and then his arm, curled around his own neck, squeezing.

Sebastian woke to a new world.

--

“Sebastian?”

Sebastian experimentally raised his arm, ignoring the wave of blinding pain, feeling as if his fingers were twitching, but seeing nothing but the bizarre stump of his elbow.

“How are you -- how are you feeling?”

Sebastian tried making a fist. He did. He had? He hadn’t. He had nothing to make a fist with. Which was a shame, because he kind of wanted to punch Blaine, and that was his dominant hand.

Had been his dominant hand. Did that make him left-handed now?

“Your fever broke two days ago, I was -- so grateful, you have no idea --”

It must have worked. No sign of infection. He was starving, but he didn’t feel sick. Fever must have done it, scoured him clean, inside-out.

So it seemed the rumours were true. Here Sebastian was, living proof. Living.

“Can you -- can you hear me, Sebastian?”

“Yes, Blaine,” Sebastian said, voice crackling from disuse. He swung his gaze to Blaine, who sat there, hands twisting atop his thighs. “How could I fucking not.”

Blaine stared at him, then down at his lap, mouth working silently. Sebastian, exhausted, slumped back against the dirty mattress he’d woken up on.

“I made soup,” Blaine finally said, quietly. “Are you hungry?”

Sebastian sighed. He was almost beyond hunger, that’s how hungry he was. “Of course.”

“I’ll get you some --!”

“No,” Sebastian said, eyes shutting. “Let me sleep.”

“You need to eat --”

“No.”

“You need to eat --”

“Or what?” Sebastian cracked an irritated eye open to glare at him. “Or you’ll force feed me? Hack off my other arm so I can’t stop you?”

Blaine was silent once more, and Sebastian shut his eyes again. He was half-asleep when Blaine spoke one last time:

“I’m sorry. I had to.”

Sebastian ignored him in favour of satisfying his exhaustion. At least it was simple.

--

The autoshop was big enough, yet it never felt smaller then when Blaine was there.

Sebastian couldn’t look at him, pretended to sleep -- did sleep -- as often as he could to avoid it, staring at the car lifts and the broken-down car (no gas) and the cheerful, faded signs declaring Service with a smile! Free air freshener with each consult! Oil changes done by the best!

He’d had an ego about his car. What guy didn’t? After it had broken down on him halfway to a QZ, he’d walked. He’d walked the soles off his too-expensive sneakers, afraid to stop with the howls of wolves in the air. Only the clothes on his back and ...

His phone and its charger. No service. Kept it alive because games were a good distraction for bored kids. About five years ago, when Blaine was having a fit locked inside their bathroom and needed monitoring, he’d turned the thing on, and played Solitaire until Blaine’s choking sobs died off along with his screen.

And then he’d tossed it. Another relic of a bygone age, useless keepsakes.

“Move it,” he told Blaine, the first words he’d managed in ages.

He was staring at the blood-stained ax, resting near Blaine’s side of the floor. Blaine nodded, and left, hiding it somewhere out of Sebastian’s current realm of invalidity in the shop.

“I should have cleaned it,” Blaine said softly when he returned. “Should have moved it. Should have -- sorry.”

“‘Out, damn spot?’” Sebastian raised an eyebrow at him, challenging. “Like that would help me forget?”

Blaine’s eyebrows snapped down, dark pair to the circles furrowed beneath his eyes, almost inhuman looking in his brief rage, mouth opening, but then he … backed down.

Sebastian swallowed disappointment as Blaine turned tail and fled.

--

They were, essentially, trapped inside the mall.

Even if Sebastian was in a condition to be moved, they couldn’t. They could still hear patrols outside on high-alert after the … incident .. and this end of the mall was closed off. South exit caved in, stores built up against another building to the north, security screens in front of all the windows and doors, elevator defunct, the gap they’d entered through collapsed, and the rising doors of the autoshop could only be opened with power, something in short supply since the collapse of modern society.

At least it wasn’t the worst place to be trapped, just because someone had camped out here for a while, leaving behind rations, a mattress, and a stack of airport novels.

As to the occupant -- well, he had tried to eat Sebastian’s arm.

Sebastian stayed in the autoshop, recuperating, or more honestly alternating between frustration and mind-numbing trance states brought on by reading about the adventures of an intrepid reporter who never seemed to die no matter what situation he ended up in.

“You’ll regret that someday, buddy,” Sebastian muttered, pressing the book to his knees as he carefully turned a page with his free/only hand.

He’d been indulging himself in the crazy-talking-to-himself hobby more. It echoed Kurt’s snide voice in his mind -- “There’s no reason we can’t do the apocalypse in style,” -- Sebastian forced to have his clothes patched with careful hands ...

Fuck. Sebastian could do with a drink. He’d happily be an alcoholic if alcohol wasn’t harder to get than food, these days.

Maybe Blaine would find some as he explored and Sebastian could guilt him into handing it over. Unfortunately, Blaine hadn’t found anything half as fun, just scribbling his findings on a copy of the mall map he’d torn down from an info stand, insisting on going over what meager information and supplies they had ad nauseum.

This was a bunch of ramen, a pack of water bottles, a ladder, a car jack, a pack of cards, a screwdriver broken at the hilt, and that fucking ax.

“We can climb the cave-in,” Blaine suggested, as their food stores grew lower.

Sebastian raised a doubtful eyebrow. “Seems like a two-handed job to me.”

A pointed wave of his amputated arm, which Blaine could never quite look at.

Blaine shook his head. “Right … well, we’ll think of something!”

Sebastian bit back a sharp comment. If Blaine decided to abandon him right now, he’d die, and Sebastian wasn’t keen on that. He’d survived. Now that the damage was done, he could accept there were ways to work around one arm, as long as it meant continuing to draw breath. There was always a way. He’d swallowed that bitter pill long ago.

What he couldn’t take was Blaine’s forced optimism. He’d never had much a taste for hypocrisy.

“Maybe we could use the ladder,” he offered, once he’d reigned in his temper.

“I’ll work on it,” Blaine promised. “Don’t worry.”

Sebastian couldn’t help a side-eye at that, and a frowning Blaine did as he’d so mastered, and left.

--

It was getting colder out.

Sebastian could feel it, left/remaining/only hand pressed against the metal of the garage door, his heat leeching away. Rains came through the hole in the ceiling, washing over the mall floor, and the smell of rotting things only grew stronger.

“We should move before it starts to snow,” he told Blaine.

“I’m trying,” Blaine shot back, then crumpled. “I’m sorry --”

“Stop apologizing!”

“Then what the hell do you want from me, Sebastian!”

“Nothing!”

Blaine shook his head, dismissal painting the lines of his face.

“If only that were true.”

“What’s that supposed to mean --”

“I’m going to go check outside.”

--

Blaine climbed out the hole in the roof. Sebastian watched him go, rubbing his aching, bandaged stump. He didn’t return to the autoshop until he saw Blaine return.

--

Blaine found Sebastian. He looked grim.

“There’s no way down. No fire escape or anything.”

“Great. We’ll scratch that one off the list.”

“You don’t have to take that tone …”

“Tone?” Sebastian snorted. “I’m just being me.”

Blaine stared, then sighed. “Sebastian …”

“Look. We just have to find a way to next door. It must have functioning doors.”

“There’s no way to the other building, I’ve checked …”

“Where there isn’t a door, you make one.”

“Just like that?” Blaine’s shoulders slumped. “Okay. I’ll scout out for a place.”

They had no tools, and those walls were all concrete, but neither of them said anything.

--

Blaine smashed the glass that encased the elevator chute, then used the ladder as a way up to it, climbing the cables to the second floor -- safer than climbing the caved-in section, he said. He had hopes of checking out every floor this way.

Sebastian did aimless circles, taking peeks at his arm. It was healing, no longer the open wound it had once been, but it wasn’t a pretty sight, lumpy and pink and scar-stretched.

“This is why he never went to medical school,” he said to himself, giving it a poke and immediately regretting it as he was swamped with the pain of tenderness.

Blaine came back bearing gifts: a decorative throw and a pillow.

“I found them in a stockroom. Here …”

He went to place them on the mattress Sebastian had claimed, and Sebastian shook his head. The sight of the small comforts filled him with uneasiness, which was irrational, so he tried to smother it. “You should take them. You just have floor.”

“You’re the injured one.”

“I’m healing,” Sebastian said brusquely. “In fact, you take the mattress.”

“No, I can’t --”

“Do it, and I’ll take that hideous pillow.”

“Hideous?” Blaine held it up, staring at the faded pattern of owls curiously. “I think it’s cute.”

“More your style than mine,” Sebastian said, shrugging. It pulled at the skin of his arm, and he winced, rubbing it. Blaine glanced up at the movement, then returned his attention to the pillow, squeezing it.

“You never liked things just for being -- cute? Pretty?”

A memory from a different place, a different time: “Shame about Blaine. He was pretty.” How hard it was to reconcile that carefully put-together Blaine from eons ago with this bearded, armed, and bootcut-jeans one that kneeled before him. Still handsome, of course, and somehow, that made Sebastian’s ever-present anger these days rise sharply to the surface.

“Never was that kind of gay.” Sebastian looked around, deliberately pouring on the scorn as he continued: “I’m sure you’re wishing it was Hummel trapped in a mall with you instead.”

Blaine dropped the pillow, fist curling around the gleam of his wedding band as he jumped to his feet. He rounded on Sebastian, a storm raging behind his eyes.

“That’s low, Sebastian!”

Sebastian didn’t flinch. “But true.”

“I never said that!”

“Yeah, well, I know you. Never needed to say a thing.”

“Right.” Blaine threw his hands up. “So no need to ask. Just assume.”

“Christ. I am not doing this.”

Sebastian turned his back, clumsily running his hand over his face, fingers no-longer-there twitching with the desire to do it more neatly. He kicked at the mattress, biting the inside of his cheek.

“No, we are doing this. I want you to just say it!”

“Say what?” Sebastian whipped back around, stepping into Blaine’s space, glaring down at him. Blaine jerked his chin up, mouth twisting. “What am I not saying?”

They held gazes for a tense, breathless moment, waiting for something to snap, and then Blaine went to speak but -- he was interrupted by a sudden, rattling bang on the garage door. They fell silent, heads turning to stare at the corrugated metal. The room echoed with its begging, bang bang bang, underwritten with a pained moan that echoed up into a shriek. Not human. That was a relief. They stepped apart, no eye contact made, and quietly moved to either side of the room. They settled into opposite corners, trying to ignore the animalistic knocking, Sebastian on his mattress, Blaine leaning against the tool chest, hugging his knees. Sebastian lay down, trying to find a comfortable position, not that he’d been able to in the months since he’d come out of his feverish sleep.

He dreamed of classics class in university, droning over The Velveteen Rabbit to a comfortable weight on his arm, and his last boyfriend, who he’d been just about to dump when the apocalypse had taken care of that by making a monster of him … odd dreams, disjointed, taunting him with promises of understanding ...

--

He woke up in the -- night -- day? -- to an itchy nose.

Groaning, Sebastian reached up to scratch his nose. It didn’t seem to ease it, tugging him more out of sleep, and he opened his eyes. No hand in front of his face -- oh.

It wasn’t like he didn’t know about phantom limb syndrome. His brain really needed to catch up with itself.

Lowering his hand (ish) and kicking the helpless rage he felt, he used his other hand to scratch his nose, then paused as he heard something … skittering? rolling on the ground?

He turned his head, and squinted. Blaine was lying on his side, head pillowed on his arm, eyes just visible in the dim light, tracking back and forth. His hand moved; gold streaked across the ground; his hand moved, batting it back.

The ring. Sebastian shook his head, and went back to sleep.

--

Blaine was glowing with triumph.

“I found a way out!”

“Where?”

“Under the elevator!”

“... What?”

“I was on the fourth floor. There’s a manager’s office there, and there was paper half-burned, I thought it was useless, but it’s actually blueprints. Apparently there’s a service tunnel to next door, on the ground floor of the elevator shaft.”

He pulled out this charred blueprint with a flourish, unrolling it for Sebastian to see. Sebastian nodded slowly as he scanned it; Blaine wasn’t wrong.

“Problem: the elevator is on the ground.”

“Not totally.”

“There’s a few inches, so what? Have a Drink me! potion?”

Blaine pointed with a showman’s flair -- (he didn’t sing anymore, not since his daughter, but Sebastian couldn’t blame him; he couldn’t remember any words himself) -- at the car jack that Sebastian had been using as a footrest. His eyebrows went up.

“Oh.”

“Oh,” Blaine echoed, almost mischievous. “If we can get it up just enough to slip under and open the hatch, we’ll be good. C’mon.”

Blaine grabbed the car jack, grinning, and Sebastian followed, quietly amazed.

--

In rare good luck since they’d entered this miserable place, the plan worked.

They got the elevator up, and Blaine was able to shimmy under and pop the hatch with the ax, after a cautious look at Sebastian, who forced his face even. Once it was open Blaine gazed back at Sebastian expectantly, hopefully, and Sebastian had to smile, though it soon faded.

“We shouldn’t just rush in there,” Sebastian said, crouching outside the gap and staring at the tiny hole.

Who knew what was hiding in that darkness. He was running out of arms to sacrifice just groping around.

“Yeah …” Blaine peered into it, and shone his flashlight. The light flickered; Blaine impatiently gave it a shake until the beam steadied. “There’s a ladder, it goes down, about fifteen feet … looks like spores, too.”

No surprise. They gathered in closed-off areas. Another good reason to avoid small spaces.

“Should throw a rock and see what comes running.”

“I’d rather nothing know where we are …” Blaine looked between Sebastian and the hole, then nodded to himself. “I’ll go in. Scout it.”

Sebastian’s gut gave an awful twist. “No.”

“Sebastian,” Blaine said, uncertainty flicking across his eyes for a second. “I need to.”

“Right. Blaine knows best. I forgot.”

Blaine glared at him, and then shook his head. “I’ll just see if there’s anything down there, and take care of it.”

“You could die.”

Blaine muttered something under his breath -- Sebastian had no idea what, though the tone wasn’t flattering. He wondered if Blaine was cursing him out. How ungentlemanly.

“I could die anywhere,” Blaine said aloud, peering back into the hole. “Anytime. That’s what life is.”

Sebastian reached out to grip Blaine’s ankle, breaking an unspoken boundary they’d refound, a line redrawn as harshly as the first time, when Blaine had screamed “Don’t touch me,” at Sebastian’s attempt to comfort, a little blood-stained felt rabbit between them ...

“Doesn’t mean you should take unnecessary risks.”

“‘Unnecessary risks’,” Blaine parroted, mouth twisting. “I’ll be fine.”

“You can’t promise that.”

“Well, I am.” He’d almost forgotten how damn stubborn Blaine could be. It made his teeth grind. “So I’m doing this, and you can’t stop me.”

“Fine.” Sebastian rolled his eyes, let go. “But remember, if I’m in no position to stop you, I’m in no position to save you, either. Doesn’t matter what I hear.”

Blaine looked him over inscrutably, then shrugged, tone bitter when he replied.

“Fine. I’m not asking you to. Stay here.”

With that, Blaine pat his gun, his knife, tugged his mask on, then shifted around to slip his feet in the hole and climb down. Sebastian watched him disappear a piece at a time, listened to the dull sound of booted feet on the rungs until they faded, and kept his vigil, looking on silently.

--

Nothing for a good long while.

Then --

Was that a distant scuffle?

Some kind of shriek?

Sebastian leaned forward, straining to hear --

A gunshot. Echoing. One. Two. Then no more.

He swallowed, shut his eyes, and started to count.

--

Kurt had died in a random stabbing. No rhyme or reason, never sure who it had been, and Sebastian had broken more than a few fingers trying to find out.

Their daughter had been infected. She’d been discovered, and taken care of. He was sure Blaine had never forgiven Sebastian for not getting her out, but …

He hadn’t known. He’d never known. She’d seemed so healthy, so herself, smiling at him all rosy-cheeked and sweet, listening to his not-at-all child-friendly bedtime stories with shock and awe.

“Daddy, one more,” she’d said, curling chubby fingers around his, gaze pleading. And Sebastian … Sebastian had left. Needed to get to work.

Incredible the kind of cat-in-the-cradle bullshit that could be pulled on you even after the apocalypse. Fuck. He’d never asked for that. Never asked for any of it. Should have left earlier, found himself a nice little abandoned shack in the middle of nowhere and shot anyone who got within a hundred yards of him.

But he couldn’t pretend being too smart to sleep alone was the only reason he’d stuck around. He couldn’t pretend he didn’t …

He was at nearly a thousand mississippi's when he heard footsteps.

--

Sebastian followed Blaine back to the autoshop, a little dazed.

“There were a couple clickers, and one on the wall, but other than that, it was fine … I took care of them. That ax saved my life when I ran out of bullets ... there’s a door on the other side. I had to jimmy the lock but it leads out! To a storeroom I mean, I think it was once a Brooks Brothers actually --” Blaine showed off a bowtie he’d curled around his fist like a bandage, miming a playful punch “-- I couldn’t resist, well, just one more door between us and freedom! We’re set!”

The manic energy was hard to manage after the tension of his wait. Sebastian blinked slowly, rubbing his aching temple, and stared at the cloth-wrapped hand.

“You’re not hurt, are you?”

“Huh? No, I was … well, I hate punching them, I don’t want to get a cut … I was thinking how nice brass knuckles would be but for now wrapping my hands seems good …”

Blaine began to unravel it, continuing to chatter (“-- wish I still had the stuff I used back when I was boxing, that was great, sporting goods on floor three was cleaned out though except for hockey pucks, lots of hockey pucks --”) as Sebastian looked unsurely at their scattered things. Should they leave? It had to be November, at least. They didn’t have much in the way of winter wear. Should they just use the tunnel to get food and come back here, where it was safe?

No. Nowhere was safe. Nowhere was safe. He couldn’t let himself forget --

Blaine had fallen silent, staring down at his now-bare hand. Stomach plummeting and drawing out memories of torn flesh and the cleaving of an ax, Sebastian stared, but he didn’t see any kind of injury.

“What’s wrong ..?”

“I …” Blaine turned his hand over, to and fro, frantically, looking at it like he might tear it off himself. “It’s gone!”

“What’s --”

Blaine’s head darted up, eyes wide and frantic. “I need to go back.”

“What?”

Sebastian grabbed Blaine when Blaine tried to march past him, shaking his head at Blaine’s radiating terror. Blaine stilled, but couldn’t contain his trembling.

“Let me go, Sebastian.”

“What’s going on?”

“My ring. It’s gone.”

Sebastian looked and realized Blaine was right. No ring. Not even really a tan line. Like it had never been there. Sebastian swallowed.

“Blaine …”

“I -- I don’t know what --” Blaine shook his head. “I have to find it.”

“Blaine, it’s --”

“Don’t say just.” Blaine jerked away from his hold, sending Sebastian a sullen look like a starving, mean stray. “Don’t ever say that.”

It sparked something in Sebastian, this implication. That Blaine was the only one standing here, less than he once was. So he did as he’d always done best, and lashed out.

“And what if it’s gone forever? What then.”

“It’s not!” Blaine gave him a shove, propelling himself back, away from Sebastian. “It’s not!”

“But it could be. What then? Are we going to stay here until we starve so you can find it? Sorry, buddy, but dying for a useless hunk of metal isn’t on my to-do list --”

“Shut up!” Blaine hissed. “Why are you being so mean.”

“I’m being realistic! For fuck’s sake, Blaine, I’m the one who told you how to keep it safe! But you didn’t listen --”

“It wasn’t right! I couldn’t -- god, you’d never understand, why would I think you could …”

Sebastian pinned him with a look. “Understand what? Losing things?”

Blaine sucked in a breath, gaze darting to what remained of Sebastian’s right arm, and then his shoulders drew a tight, angry line as they straightened out.

“You think amputation is anything like losing your soulmate?” Blaine asked, and now it was Sebastian’s turn to be shocked, the callousness of the words ugly in Blaine’s normally kind mouth. “To losing your child?”

“Don’t use her like that. Fuck, even he deserves better than that --”

“Like your insults are any better --”

“Maybe not, but -- shit, Blaine, you’re not the only one with family! Loved ones! That’s all of our stories!”

“You love nothing,” Blaine told him, his now-bare left hand unfurling and then slamming into a tight fist over and over, hitting his own chest, eyes growing damp past the hot anger radiating from them. “You have no idea --”

“Fuck you,” Sebastian spat back. “Fuck you and -- you know what? I have done -- everything for you -- we’re only here, alive , for you to yell at me because of all I’ve done --”

“That’s not true!”

“Then what the hell do you think --”

“You’re the one who shot those guys!”

The words rung out, somehow more damning than anything else said so far. Sebastian shook his head, trying to figure out Blaine’s logic.

“What the fuck does that --”

“You shot those guys . And then we had to run, here , and you got attacked, you got us trapped, and it was your fault.”

Blaine didn’t look triumphant, more desperate, as the words landed low in Sebastian’s gut, sure as a hit, making him flinch. He battled a swell of guilt with righteousness.

“I had to!”

“No, you didn’t,” Blaine informed him. “They were going to talk!”

Sebastian snorted. “No, they weren’t.”

“They were lowering their guns!”

Sebastian blinked. No, that wasn’t -- he tried to think back to that day, the moon full overhead, the distant music, the two machine guns. They’d raised them, hadn’t they? The barrel up, the imminent threat, Blaine next him -- god -- Blaine --

“No, they were -- they were going to shoot.”

“They weren’t! I was handling it,” Blaine insisted, a hitch to his voice. “And you -- you went and did that! You murdered them!”

“I had to!”

“Why do you think that!” Blaine ran his hands over his hair. “You think I don’t know that you do these things , but I do, I always have, and I -- I always told myself you had to, but you -- you just shot them --”

“To protect us. Protect you.”

Blaine gripped his curls, mouth turning down, and he stared at Sebastian for several long seconds, tired lines around his eyes standing out all the more starkly. His brows lifted, almost marvelling.

“You really believe that, don’t you?”

“It’s all I have to believe,” Sebastian replied, and the truth of it scared him.

What was he without Blaine?

“But we’ll never know, will we?” Blaine said, shaking his head, hands sliding down to cup the nape of his neck, holding onto himself. “Because you -- you tell yourself this, but when it comes down to it, that’s what you do, you -- I -- that’s not how I want to be protected.”

“Then what the hell do you want?”

“I want you to -- I want you to talk to me.”

“About what. The weather?”

“About --” Blaine swallowed a choked, laughing sound. “God, you can’t think of anything? How about your arm? Don’t act like you haven’t been silently judging me over it --”

Sebastian shook his head stubbornly. “I haven’t.”

Blaine sneered at him. “That’s a goddamn lie, Sebastian!”

“You saved my life, Blaine. I fucking know that,” Sebastian shot back, and pointed at Blaine with the stump; Blaine flinched. “You’re the one who can’t face what you did.”

“Because you’re blaming me!”

“I’m not! Christ, do you know what really bothers me? You want to know the real reason I’ve wanted to just -- just go?”

Blaine turned his face to press his mouth against his arm, brows furrowing, throat bobbing, and then he glanced back. “If you want to leave, you should.”

“I’m not saying that. I’m offering the why. Yes or no, Blaine, it’s a simple fucking question.”

Blaine took a deep breath, then stepped forward, releasing his neck and spreading his hands out to Sebastian. “Fine! Yes! Talk to me.”

“Because you’re pretending you give a shit.”

“I -- what’s that supposed to mean?” Blaine asked, almost like he hadn’t intended for it to be a question, the words reluctantly dragged from him.

“That you are an emotional zombie. For years I’ve had to all but wipe your ass while I looked out for you, and you could barely -- barely look at me -- and then -- and then when it’s my time to go you suddenly -- suddenly you’re willing to just do something like that. It’s not what you did. It’s that -- it’s that you only …”

Want me when you can’t have me. Sebastian swallowed, and turned away, covering his mouth and its unforgiving tremble with his hand. He felt sick, as sick as he’d been when the infection had first grabbed him.

“Really?” Blaine snapped, and the fury in his voice gave Sebastian pause. “You -- you said it yourself. After she -- after I lost them -- I, I was done Sebastian, I was -- but I couldn’t. Not when you -- you needed me -- and I’ve hung on, and that was for you, but you -- you didn’t do it for me, don’t pretend you did it for me --”

“So what you’re saying,” Sebastian began, speaking over Blaine, turning back on him with disbelief, “is that all this is some sick kind of revenge?”

Blaine’s eyes widened, then narrowed. “Forget it. You don’t hear a word I say, do you?”

“Oh, I hear plenty, trust me.” Sebastian reached over, grabbing him when Blaine tried to step away, fear lancing through him. “But why don’t you illuminate me some more.”

Blaine sighed, and it was like finding a dead jellyfish on the beach, empty and sad. He didn’t try to tug away, just bored holes into Sebastian with his hard, wet gaze. “Why bother? All we do is talk past each other.”

“Then walk away,” Sebastian told him, feeling like he’d absorbed all the anger that had fled Blaine. “Turn around and walk off and leave. But if you don’t want to do that, tell me what it is you mean!”

“I can’t make it any clearer!” Blaine told him, a hint of a waver to his voice. “You don’t protect me, Sebastian, you protect what I do for you.”

“What …” Sebastian let go of, stepped back, unease splitting him inside. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means …” Blaine laughed, short, sharp, bitter. “That I could have been anyone.”

“You can’t really believe that,” Sebastian said, and it was his turn to marvel, searching Blaine’s face frantically for some suggestion of jest.

“If it had been me who died instead of Kurt --”

Blaine hadn’t said that name since Kurt had died. Sebastian sucked in a breath.

“Blaine, I fucking hated your husband.”

Sebastian hadn’t said the name either, and he didn’t feel like joining Blaine there quite yet.

“I know you two -- butted heads, but I also -- I saw you two together. So many times. Just … talking.”

Sebastian couldn’t even be angry; it was like seeing a map written in a topsy-turvy dimension, like Alice had come back and told him to look down for the sky.

“I --” Sebastian shook his head. “About you. I was telling him off, half the time!”

Their daughter, upon hearing that Sebastian had been to France, had instantly assumed that Sebastian knew how to do French braids. “Pleaaase, Uncle Seb?” Sebastian, not being a twelve-year-old girl, had turned to Hummel, and Kurt had taught him. “You’re a natural,” he’d told Sebastian, smiling kindly, and sometimes, sometimes things were good between them.

They were rare, but -- maybe hate was too strong a word. They’d shared something. Of course they had. Everyone did, who had seen what they had. But Sebastian -- Sebastian had known where he stood. He’d always known.

How could Blaine not? Was that really what this was? You love nothing? Sebastian could laugh.

“That’s only a half --”

“Blaine,” Sebastian interrupted again, but this time his tone had gentled, such a terrifyingly vulnerable thing that left him incapable of hearing his own words himself without cringing away, rather registering them with how they landed across the landscape of Blaine’s raw expression, “I love you.”

Blaine half-smiled, confused, then slowly shook his head. “What …”

“I’ve always loved you,” he continued, gesturing to encompass Blaine. “It could never have been just anyone.”

Blaine was now just staring at him, mouth parted, brows drawn low, a faint shake still tugging at his otherwise still gaze. Embarrassed, Sebastian continued, words growing softer but no less steady:

“And fine, if that’s selfish. If it’s selfish to love you and want to see you stay alive, because I need you, because I think you needed me … then fine, I’m selfish. We all fucking knew that’s what love is anyways -- selfish, horrible, desperate … but it’s love.”

“It’s love,” Blaine echoed, and then, “Why did you …”

He didn’t finish, looking almost confused, and Sebastian shrugged helplessly.

“Never say anything? I figured you knew.”

Blaine looked to his feet, then jerked his chin up. The sweet sting of embarrassment was reflected in his face.

“I think …” he grew even more shame-faced “ … I did know.”

“Yeah.” Sebastian huffed, tucked his hands -- hand -- into his pocket, shrugged again. He couldn’t pretend it didn’t hurt. You love nothing. “Yeah. You did.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No more apologies, Blaine.” Sebastian nodded at Blaine’s left hand. “You had your reasons, and I had mine. That’s … human.”

Blaine curled his hand into a fist, then slowly, slowly, smoothed it out, and then they both stood there in a silence that just verged on awkward, not quite making eye contact. It had been a furious argument and a whimper of an end, a just-forged sword slipped directly into water, and Sebastian had only steam left to breathe. His chest felt tight and hot, and he sighed to release it.

“I really don’t blame you for saving my life,” Sebastian said quietly. “And I’m sorry if you felt like I had. I probably would have done the exact same thing.”

Blaine crossed his arms, mouth moving softly, still not looking at Sebastian, and then carefully replied:

“I’m sorry … that you had to save me. And I’m … god, Sebastian, I’m thankful. I am.”

Sebastian smiled at that, and Blaine suddenly made a choked sound, shoulders hunching, and Sebastian stepped forward, offering an open arm; Blaine squeezed his eyes shut and with another half-sob he moved to hug Sebastian, tight and all-encompassing, tucking himself under Sebastian’s chin, and Sebastian held him back as fiercely as he could, some weight he couldn’t name slipping from his shoulders but leaving him with a feeling of grace. Of … peace.

Truth be told, he wasn’t sure he’d ever known what that felt like before now.

--

That night, a blizzard raged outside, early winter come calling.

They slept tangled on that dirty mattress, breathing each other’s air, hearts beating against each other, feet tucked together, intimate and warm.

Blaine’s left hand was still curled in a fist, but now, Sebastian’s curled around it.

--

“I really am sorry about your arm. I wish there’d been another way.”

“Eh, it’s fine. I’m a leftie with jacking off anyways …”

“Right. … Where do you find the privacy to do that, exactly?”

“Privacy? No, I’m just very quiet. Ninja masturbation.”

“I …” Blaine laughed, nose crinkling at him. “That’s a skill, then.”

Sebastian, fond, nodded, and finished clumsily packing the last of his things; thankfully, Blaine hadn’t offered to help.

“Ready?” Sebastian asked, standing up and slinging the pack on.

“As ever.” Blaine adjusted his straps, smiled grimly. “Let’s get going.”

--

They slipped under the elevator, through the tunnel.

They both looked for the ring, not pausing, but flashlights sweeping the dark, lighthouses in the night, but nothing to be found, nothing to be warned for. There was only the dead and the soft puff of the spores, swirling through the beams, a quiet reminder of what awaited them all.

They left through the storeroom, up and out, through a field of empty mannequins and scattered hangers. Blaine briefly paused outside to stare up at the half-burned logo, thoughtful reflection curling his mouth, and then he looked back to Sebastian and smiled, offering his hand. Sebastian accepted it, his heart maybe a touch softer in his chest.

They left the city hand-in-hand, making tracks in the snow, their way soon swallowed up behind them by further falling drifts, with only forward to go.

“We should find a settlement,” Blaine said, and Sebastian nodded.

“Yeah, we should.” He knew they needed the help, now. “But we keep an exit strategy.”

“Of course.” Blaine leaned into him. “I think we just proved we can never be trapped.”

“We did, didn’t we?” Sebastian let out a huff of a breath, watching his breath swirl and part the air. “I guess we make a pretty good team.”

He sent a sly grin at Blaine, who smiled back, almost shy.

“We do,” Blaine agreed. “It’s why we’re still here, isn’t it?”

They squeezed each other’s hands, a warm moment that spread like waves on a tropical shore, the future of possibilities, white beaches and northern lights, and in understanding, they kept walking.

--

the end

--

[buzzfeedwheeze]

The New Teacher - Shyan fanfic

Ugh

Sorry it took me so long to post the new chapter. I didn't know what to do with the fic (I blame the new Star Wars movie and the WiFi at my beach house), but I think I found my way again!

Hope you enjoy.

You can find it at AO3

Two months passed really fast and Shane got into a new routine. One that he actually enjoyed. Apart from having to give his son up two weeks a month, he was actually quite content. He would wake up earlier than what he used to, just so that he could have breakfast with his kid, generally milk and cereal because it was the fastest option and they were both lazy suckers. Then Shane would drop Andrew at school, go to work, banter with Ryan Bergara on Twitter and sometimes prepare a nice meal for Andrew and his boyfriend Steven. Yeah, somehow the new teacher became a part of his life, whether it was a conscious or unconscious decision of his. Usually at the lunch break he would find himself engaging of multiple discussions with Bergara about aliens, ghosts, movies and one time they even had a passionate debate about popcorn.

After one week of smiling like a teen after he received a new notification of @ryansbergara, he was forced to admit that there was more than simply bantering going on. Their fights didn’t feel real, or maybe they never were. When he took Andrew to school or went to pick him up he would wait to see Bergara arrive and then would tease him on twitter about how he looked ridiculous with his weird love for yellow clothes, especially one vest that he wore a lot. Ryan would always reply with a “stalker :)” and Shane would grin from ear to ear.

Now, he found it kind of hard to look at the man, that being the reason why he adopted the method of avoiding at all costs to get out the car near school grounds. Andrew reacted to this novelty with curiosity at first but now all he did was smirk when he got to the car, always making sure to mention the damn teacher. But although he wanted to avoid Bergara he couldn’t help but show up at the exact time he knew the teacher was about to arrive at school. He didn’t want to confront his feelings, but hey, he could still appreciate a nice body, with a great face, fantastic humor, amazing knowledge, sweet eyes... Ryan Bergara was the closest thing, for Shane, to proof of the existence of supernatural beings. Of course, he had flaws, Shane knew there was no such thing as perfection, but that man was pretty damn close to it.

But today was saturday.

Meaning no Bergara and no need to confront what was going on between them. The only thing planned for the day was a draft of a new cartoon he had to present for his superior on Monday and a dinner at the new restaurant that opened near his apartment. He was going to take Andrew and Steven and they were going to order enough food to make themselves ashamed on the next day.

A great plan. He had a cocky smile in place as he skimmed through the newspaper.

“Why are you smiling like that?” he looked up to find a very sleepy Andrew exiting his room. “It’s kinda creepy since you’re reading the Sports” the boy then rubbed his eyes.

Shane rolled his eyes. “Keep that attitude young boy and you won’t be having any pancakes today”

Andrew frowned. “You wouldn’t dare…” then his dad wiggled one eyebrow. “YOU WOULD! YOU SICK BASTARD!” Such a drama queen… I taught him so well. Shane smiled fondly as his son threw his hands in the air as he grunted on his way to the kitchen.

Shane got up quickly and took over his position on the stove. Andrew had already set up the table and was now resting his face on his hands as he watched his dad. Shane prepared the dough and after a few minutes, full of flips and a lot of cursing, the pancakes were ready.  Before placing them on the table he turned to Andrew.“Want me to cut them on Disney characters shapes?”

“What is the point of eating pancakes if they are not Disney themed pancakes?” he raised an eyebrow.

Shane had to blink a few times because he wasn’t seeing big grown up Andrew, there, right in front of him, was little Andrew with chubby cheeks and small hands. He quickly turned and focused on the task of cutting the pancakes into various shapes to make Andrew’s new favorite character from ‘Disney’. The sound of nervous fingers tapping on a screen and the rhythmically sound of the knife hitting the board helped Shane concentrate and suppress the treacherous tears. It was hard to get around the idea of Andrew no longer being his little boy. I’m becoming one of those dads.

Soon he placed an almost perfect, considering that it was made with pancake, BB-8 right in front of his son. Andrew gasped and stared at the plate he like used to do when he was a kid. “I was going to do a Kylo Ren. But since you are probably going to post it on Instagram, and I know you are not ready to share your obsession with Kylo, I thought it was better to play it safe. A good ol’ bot for ya.”

Andrew reached over the table and hugged his dad. “You are the best”. He snapped a photo and munched on his BB unit quite happily. Shane just ate his regular stacked pancakes but his heart was so warn that he felt like they were made of pure gold.

They ate in silence and after breakfast Andrew washed the dishes and left to meet Steven and head out to Matt’s place. Some other friends were going to be there as well, their friend Adam, Ashley and a girl called Jen. Apparently they were going to have a Harry Potter marathon and survive out of popcorn the whole day. They were living the dream. Shane tried to tag along and Andrew said that even though he was cool there was no chance he was going since he had a project to begin. Boo hoo adult life sucks.

Shane got all his stuff and found a comfortable spot on their dining table. Put on his ‘Thinking Cap ON” playlist and started to take notes of some ideas he had on the past few days. But as he jotted them down he felt like they weren’t exactly very creative or even original. No one would ever bother to invest on a cartoon like that. So he decided to start by designing the main character. It wasn’t how he normally worked but he had a deadline and he needed to present something to his boss. Anything. He opened his memos and found some notes from the briefing he had had last week about the new cartoon. The notes were kind of confusing but at least he managed to get some of the things his boss wanted.

“Supernatural. Two main characters. Diversity. Funny. Not too scary. A bit of sarcasm.” Shane wanted to throw his phone on the street so a car could smash it. “I’m so fucked right now.”

The hours flew by like minutes and he only had the sketches of the main characters done. He opted for two girls. One was blond with a big nose and thick glasses. He decided that she was going to be a bucket full of sarcasm and bad jokes. The other one was smaller, a mix of Asia and Latin America on her features. He didn’t know what to do with her. He stared at the page in front of him and tried to see what was behind those big beady eyes he drew. Maybe she was going to be more like a sidekick, always scared and hiding. Shane was about to to write that, but something stopped him. That wasn’t right. There was more to those characters and without a plot he couldn’t fully comprehend them. Especially the tiny girl. Shane shut the sketch book and decided to prepare his lunch.

After having lunch, Shane did no progress at all. All he had was two sketched and barely filled profile about the characters. He had longed abandoned the notion of having a plot or even having ideas for one. So until Andrew and Steven called for him to go pick them up, all he did was complain, play Disney Crossy Road and watch old episodes of Brooklyn Nine Nine on TV. Their call would be a true blessing. He would finally be free of his responsibility and be able to go out and enjoy his weekend. Or at least his saturday night since he needed the damn project ready.

Then as if by magic his phone screen lit up. Shane turned his attention from the TV to the now vibrating phone. It wasn’t a phone call but a series of text messages from Andrew asking his dad if it was ok to pick them up an hour earlier and that he didn’t want to disturb him now that he was focused on a new project. Shane replied quickly with ‘im already on the car’ and a ‘FREEDOM’ followed by a series of gifs to illustrate his state of mind. He got up, collected the car keys and soon he was driving on his way to Matt’s house.

The traffic wasn’t that bad so he managed to arrive in less than 15 minutes at the fancy neighborhood that Andrew’s friend lived. The house was at the end of Capt. Hugo Vega Street, it was a huge modern mansion that even had some bushes cut in the shape of animals. There was a fucking crab and a flamingo, for fucks sake. Shane pulled over in front of the house and was about to honk when he saw that Andrew was waiting outside. He waved at him and watched as he began to tow Steven by his hand. Andrew sat by his side while Steven took the backseat. Shane watched through the mirror Steven laying down on the seat and chuckled. “So how wa...”

“Dad please drive!” Andrew interrupted him. “If we stay here longer I might have to go inside and kill Matt with my bare hands. Do you want me to go to jail?!” he looked exhausted.

“Let me guess.”

“You wouldn’t be able…”

“Matt’s idea of eating solemnly popcorn was a disaster and you had to deal with a very hungry Steven Lim complaining.” Andrew gasped and stared at him with wide eyes. “I had to travel with you two to a festival when you were little and I know some things don’t change.” with that he drove to the restaurant as fast as he was allowed to.

Steven practically ran inside the place when he smelled the aroma of hot meals being served. They checked their reservation and, thank god, got a great table. Soon a waiter with a fake smile kept on for pure obligation asked for their orders. Eyeing the kids barely keeping it together, staring at the basket of bread as if it was some sort of rare item, Shane picked up the menu and ordered an absurd amount of food. Lots of chicken wings dipped on spicy sauce, french fries with olive oil and herbs, one small pepperoni pizza, medium portion of quesadilla and a basket with a mix of different nacho flavors. It will do. When he finished listing almost all of the items on the menu one very scared, or maybe impressed, waiter left to go deliver his order to the kitchen.

“Food will get here soon, kids, don’t worry.” he looked at them reassuringly.

Steven looked up and his tired expression was replaced by a huge smile, which left Shane feeling pretty smug. He was capable of making those kids feel the joy of life again. Then he noticed Steven poking Andrew on the forehead, which only made the other one glare at him. But it was all he need, pointing at something behind them he whispered something for Andrew. Andrew perked up on his seat and managed a small smile when he saw whatever Steven asked him to look. Shane couldn’t hear what they were saying so he turned to look for whatever got them all so happy. You gotta be fucking kidding me.

“You gotta be fucking kidding me.” Ryan Bergara was there at the hall gesticulating like a maniac while talking with the maître. Shane of course still felt the urge to fight Bergara, but watching the other man arguing with someone, that wasn’t him, made some weird protection instinct kick in. It was almost like it was his duty to protect Ryan Bergara from all evil in the world. I’m so pathetic.

Deciding to ignore the situation was the best option for him, so he turned to look at the boys and noticed that Andrew wasn’t at his place anymore. Steven just shrugged and nodded his head in the direction of the teacher. I raised a snake. Shane thought bitterly as he watched Andrew talking with his teacher at the hall. Bergara was blushing and Andrew looked at him with one of his, perfected through the years, puppy eyes look and Shane rolled his eyes. Surely he was inviting Bergara to sit with them. There was one spare chair and Shane considered throwing it across the room for a second or maybe throwing himself across the room. Lost on his thoughts and still watching the chair squinting his eyes, Shane didn’t notice when Andrew got back to the table with the teacher.

“Hi, Shane… I mean Mr. Madej.” Bergara was blushing and stuttering and all of his previous thoughts of destroying the chair vanished. Boy, he was a handsome man.

“Hi. You can call me Shane Madej.” Stupid mouth. “I mean, Shane. Call me Shane” Shane got up awkwardly, bumping on the table and almost knocking down everything. He shaked Bergara’s extended hand vigorously. Then Shane helped Ryan sit, which obviously made things worse. Internally he was a mess, an eternal replay on his mind of Gordon Ramsay calling him an idiot sandwich.

Steven and Andrew were sat on VIP places to watch the show unroll in front of them. They kept snickering and whispering thing to each other, which left Shane no option but to make small talk with Ryan Fucking Bergara as they waited for the food. When the meal arrived he kicked Andrew on his shins and got the boys to talk with the teacher, who seemed to relax and appreciate better his meal.

After they ordered the dessert and were waiting for it to arrive, Shane noticed Andrew leaning in on Steven’s direction to whisper something then he got up abruptly and announced he was going to the bathroom. But before he left he winked to his dad, and Shane knew this was no teenage hook-up-on-the-bathroom plan. No. It was a masterplan to leave him alone with Begara. And his suspicions were soon confirmed when Steven giving him an apologetic smile left to go to the bathroom too.

When they left Ryan began to laugh which caused Shane to look at him with an arched eyebrow. “What?” he managed between giggles. “It’s just that no matter how many years have passed teenagers will always try the bathroom excuse to go make out.”

“Yeah. The ol’ bathroom excuse to make out” he said through gritted teeth.

“They even try that at school!” Ryan wheezed. “I just look at them with one raised eyebrow and say ‘really? I’ll tell you kid, I invented this excuse. Go back to your work’.”

Shane’s annoyance left just as soon as it arrived. He looked at Ryan with glinting eyes and in a malicious tone asked. “You’re telling me, you skipped class to make out with girls in the bathroom, Bergara? The shame”

Ryan gulped and stared at Shane mortified. And stuttering a bit he managed to spit out the words. “I-I supp-suppose at the time they were girls.” he sipped his cranberry lemonade and eyeing Shane by the corner of his eye said in a much clearer voice. “You can call me Ryan, you know.”

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed. It’s rude.” Shane’s heart was beating so fast that he felt like it was going to escape his chest. “Considering that people always assume I’m heterosexual or just deny my bisexuality, I should’ve known better.” he didn’t want to look at the man sat by his side. He knew the look of disgust people generally had on their faces when he admitted his sexuality.

“Bisexual? That’s nice.” Ryan’s voice was so sweet that Shane had to look up. He was looking at him with those gleaming eyes and soft mouth curved into a beautiful smile. Shane smiled back.

“I guess it is.”

Ryan sipped his drink again. Coughed a few times then turned to Shane. “So, Andrew was telling me some other day after class, that you work at Disney?” then after stealing one of his fries added. “Your son really loves you, he’s always talking about you.”

“Yeah, I do. I work at the animations studio.” he was torn between hugging Andrew and cutting his allowance. He’s basically selling me to his teacher as if I’m a cow.

“That’s so cool! I love Disney!” he now was turning his whole body on Shane’s direction. “You see, I have this friend, Helen, and we go every year to Disney together. It was where our friendship sort of began.”

“That’s really sweet. I, too, love Disney. Otherwise I wouldn’t work for them.” he also tuned his body. Their legs were touching.

Ryan looked at their legs, coughed a bit and blushing continued to make small talk. “Yeah, you don’t strike me as the type of man who would work at a place you hated.” his eyes followed Shane’s movements as he sipped on his green tea. Ryan shook his head. “Hmm… Working on any new projects? The new Moana maybe?”

Shane didn’t listen the question since he was too focused on studying those full lips moving. Quickly, he reached for his tea. When he noticed Ryan waiting for something, he apologized and asked him to repeat the question. Questions about his new projects always got him excited. He would feel like a secret agent when he asked for secrecy and judging by Ryan’s expression, he was probably into it. Shane and Ryan leaned on the direction of each other, and Ryan’s legs were now between Shane’s. They were whispering but sometimes, one of them would laugh too loud (Ryan) and other would smile like a stupid RomCom guy (Shane).

The kids got back to the table at some point, but the two of them barely acknowledged them. Their desserts were left untouched in front of their places. Shane had to admit that maybe Ryan had some great ideas. Well, and some not so great. “What if they are like the ghostbusters?! But they hunt sea creatures instead of ghosts.”

“Are you insane?” The boys would chuckle and Shane would just keep shooting questions at Ryan.

“You said you wanted two girls, right? What about two girls that investigate allegedly haunted locations around the world. The skeptic one could be a ghost that came back to have some fun at the cost of the other girl. Always pulling pranks and ordering other spirits to scare the believer who is obsessed with finding proof of ghosts existence.”

“Ryan Bergara, you are basically telling me to make a genderbent version of yourself.” Shane chuckled.

“Shut up, Shane. There’s more” he rolled his eyes. “The skeptic girl liked to scare the other girl at the beginning. But then they started to go to more dangerous places and she began to protect her and grew fond of the tiny scared, yet brave sometimes, human. I’m not saying there needs to be a romantic relationship, since they are teens, but they can be really good friends.”

“I like this. A lot. Even the romantic part.” then smirking a bit he added. “Now it definitely doesn’t seem like you are trying to be the smaller girl.”

“Well, for me it does sound like genderbent fanfiction of you two” Steven mumbled to Andrew

“What did you say, Steven?” Shane nervously asked as he eyed Ryan. I guess he didn’t hear it. But he’s blushing a bit.

“Nothing.” Andrew replied while glaring daggers at his sleepy boyfriend. “He just ate too much cake.”

“I guess we should be going.” Shane said as he started to look for the waiter to ask for their check.

“Yeah, it’s probably better. I need to take the bus home. We need to see how much I…” Ryan began but was cut off by Shane.

“No need. This dinner is on me. Would like a ride home?” Bergara shook his head. “Then I guess you should be going.” Shane added a bit off.

Ryan got up and said his goodbyes. Shane watched him walking out of the restaurant and something ached on his chest. He left his credit card for Andrew. “Meet me outside kiddo”. Just after he got out of the restaurant there was no sign of the man nearby, then Shane saw a small bus stop in the distance and a small figure walking in the direction of it. Shane ran.

The bus stop was close when he felt a hand touching his shoulder which startled him “Fuck, sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.” a familiar voice made him relax and Ryan turned to stare at its owner.

“Hi. Again.”

“Yeah, I could’ve asked you on twitter, but I guess my brain thought it was a better idea to ran after you in the dark.” Shane was rambling. “And you have no clue of what I’m talking about and…” a small hand slapped his arm and Shane looked at Ryan half surprised and half in pain. “What…”

“Just spit it out, Shane”

He looked at Ryan and gaining back his non-justified confidence ‘spat it out’. “I was wondering if you you would like to meet me tomorrow at a coffee shop. It’s a small place, very intimate. We talk about my new cartoon and maybe other stuff.” I can’t believe I’m asking my son’s teacher on a date.

“Like a date?” Ryan’s voice was hopeful.

“No” Yes. “I mean, maybe.”

Ryan smirked and added before making a signal for the bus approaching the stop. “Then DM me the details for our date of Schrodinger, Madej”

[keldae]

Drastic Measures (Chapter Six)

True to Kimble’s word, the sublevel exit left them on the beach. They were sheltered from the main thoroughfares of Raider’s Cove for a few minutes, but Theron knew they wouldn’t have long before they were pursued. “We need to get off this planet,” he muttered. “My shuttle should be nearly finished refueling – if they haven’t impounded it yet, I can remotely pilot it to our location.”

“Would the bounty hunters think to capture your shuttle?” Xaja asked as she warily looked around.

“Hard to tell.” Theron took her hand and tugged her back to the relative shelter offered by the palm trees. “There’s still no actual law enforcement here, is there, Kimble?”

“That would require laws to enforce.” Kimble adjusted his rucksack over his shoulder. “But depending how large that pirate crew is and how smart the captain is, they might have sent people back to the docks to figure out which ship’s yours.”

“Wonderful.” Theron whirled, hearing muffled yells from inside Kimble’s residence. “We can argue a plan later. Anyone in the town who might help us?”

“With a hundred million credits on the line?”

“If we get to the jungle,” Xaja interjected, “we might be able to lose them and get the shuttle to pick us up there.”

“Yes, while trying to avoid every single animal in that jungle,” Kimble complained. “Remember the wampas from the last time we were here?”

“The most the animals are gonna do is eat us. They won’t stab us in the back for credits.”

“No, but the spice runners in there might.” Kimble gestured out in the general direction of the jungle with his hand. “The town’s expanded since we were last here, and there’s a whole lot of disreputable stuff that goes on there, even by Raider’s Cove standards. We go that way, we’re as good as dead.”

Blaster fire rang out overhead. Theron swore and dropped Xaja’s hand to return fire at the bounty hunters emerging from the house. Kimble took position to his right. “We’re gonna be good as dead if we don’t get out of here!” he snapped at the medic. “Best shot is to run back for the landing zones and get to my shuttle.”

“Right through Raider’s Cove,” Kimble sarcastically retorted as he nailed one of the hunters with a shot to the head. It was almost disturbing that the man who specialized in healing people was equally as good at killing them when necessary. “That can’t possibly go badly at all.”

“The entire town can’t be looking for us,” Xaja interjected. “Not yet, at least – kriff!” There was the snap-hiss of a saber blade igniting and a blue swirl in front of Theron. The bolt that would have hit him was deflected back to its origins. Shouts from the hunters changed with the recognition of a lightsaber, and Theron cringed inwardly as he remembered just how many bounties still existed for captured Jedi. “Are the lower docks still accessible?”

“If it’s not high-tide and you don’t mind getting chased by crabs or the odd adventurous pirate, yes!” Kimble shot down another hunter. “Assuming, of course, we get there alive.”

“I’m on it.” Theron blinked a command into his implants, and the interface over his left eye showed him a few vulnerable-looking pipes along the side of the building. He angled his blaster up a hair and fired. The shot hit the pipe, but didn’t make it rupture like he’d planned. “For kriff’s sake –”

The lightsaber suddenly flew past him and zoomed over the heads of the bounty hunters, striking the pipe dead-on. Coolant fluid exploded over the hunters, earning screams of pain and fury; it bought Theron enough time to whirl and catch Xaja as she caught the thrown lightsaber and sagged in his arms. “Oww. ‘Kay, maybe… a small mistake…” she groaned as she shakily attempted to regain her balance. She grasped the lapels of Theron’s jacket just to stay upright, shaking like a leaf and far too pale.

“Two years in carbonite and you still have no self-preservation instincts,” Kimble groaned. “The drugs won’t have kicked in fast enough for you to try using the Force!”

“We’ll argue about that later!” Theron stooped and picked Xaja up. “You know any shortcuts?”

“Yeah, but be ready to drop her and start shooting again.” Kimble started running south along the beach, toward the rocky outcropping that separated the town from the shanty village serving as the marketplace. “This way!”

Any situation that ended with the Chancellor, the Supreme Commander, the Chancellor’s most trusted advisors, and the representative from Zakuul all in one office was a bad situation. Jace tried to ignore the throbbing in his head as he stood at rest behind the seat designated as his, too close to the smarmy-looking git that Zakuul had sent as its representative in the Senate. Several nights of too little sleep and too much brandy as he tried to drown out the pain of his son’s suicide was taking its toll on him. Satele was little better: she’d barely said two words in the days since arriving at his apartment door, face ashen and visibly trying to hold her shattered composure together, and failing spectacularly.

He stood to attention as Chancellor Saresh finally entered the room, flanked by two of the Senate guards. “Ambassador Larill,” she tersely greeted the Zakuulan representative as she sat behind her imposing desk. “I trust you have a good reason for calling a meeting like this on such urgent notice?”

“Indeed, Chancellor. The declaration of war is an urgent matter, is it not?”

Jace’s eyes widened, then narrowed suspiciously at the Zakuulan’s words. What declaration of war? Even if Saresh had been pushing for executive administrative power over the course of the war, any declarations of war (whether by or against the Republic) would have had to have crossed his desk. And he knew that no such notice had come to his attention.

Saresh’s eyes bulged, and her mouth opened and closed twice before she finally snapped back at the Zakuulan. “What do you mean, the declaration of war? The Republic has done nothing but honour the treaty terms your Emperor imposed on us!”

“Have you, then? Then explain this to me, Chancellor…” Larill rested his hands on the desk and leaned forward into Saresh’s space. “Why was there a Republic saboteur laying a plan to attack the Spire’s civilian population?”

“A Republic… what?”

“I know you heard me.” He levelled a cold gaze at the Chancellor. “We have surveillance footage and eyewitness accounts of a reported Republic asset setting highly explosive detonite charges across the Spire. Had he been able to activate them, he would have killed thousands, if not millions, of my people. Sending a spy to my planet with the intention to commit an act of terrorism constitutes an act of war, Chancellor.”

“We sent no spies to Zakuul, and certainly no saboteurs! Civilian-targeted terrorism is beneath the Republic’s standards.” Saresh had regained something of her composure, and her shock had morphed into fury. “If you seek combatants more inclined to attack civilians, you should look at the Empire. Their spies fake my peoples’ accent well enough.”

Larill’s eyes narrowed as a malicious smile spread over his face. “Ah, but would someone from the Sith Empire have attacked my people for the sake of rescuing one of your own?” The smile widened. “Your terrorist was interrupted before he could set off the charges, but he did manage to commit another act of terrorism while he fled: He aided the escape of the Outlander assassin responsible for the murder our Immortal Emperor Valkorion. A former member of your Jedi Order, that woman is potentially more dangerous than even he is.”

“… The Outlander assassin? It’s a myth. No such person from the Republic ever made it onto Zakuul to –”

“Enough of your lies!” The ambassador slammed down a holotransmitter and activated it. The lights formed to show two rotating human faces: one male, one female. “You will surrender the terrorist and the assassin to Zakuulan custody, or we will declare war on the Republic – and this time, no treaty will save you.”

Jace felt the blood drain out of his face — not at the Zakuulan’s words, but at the two images he saw rotating on Saresh’s desk. The woman he recognized; everyone in the higher-up ranks of Republic Command knew Jedi Master Xaja Taerich, or at least knew of her. He’d only spoken with her over the holo a couple of times, but had been impressed by her courage and her attitude of ‘do what needs doing, figure out the diplomatic questions later.’ He’d been as upset as the rest of the Republic when he heard of her death aboard Darth Marr’s flagship (even if he quietly judged her for being there in the first place). The idea that she could be the infamous assassin was outrageous.

The male face made his heart break, and he stomped out the tendril of hope before it could take root. Theron… it can’t be you. Why you?

Saresh’s eyes narrowed as she studied the faces. “The woman, according to all Republic intelligence, is long dead. Xaja Taerich was killed by your forces immediately before the war broke out. I don’t have the man, but I can identify him for you.” She either didn’t see Jace’s eyes widen in horror, or ignored it. “His name is Theron Shan, and he is a disavowed rogue agent –”

“Was a disavowed rogue agent.” Jace almost wasn’t aware that he’d spoken until Larill raised a questioning eyebrow at him and Saresh shot him a murderous glare. “According to my… personal sources, Theron Shan is dead. He was killed several days ago.” Those words still hurt to say, as though every time he spoke them, they were made more real. If he ignored them, perhaps he could imagine that his son still lived…

“Your sources are incorrect, Commander Malcom.” The Zakuulan dismissively turned away from the grizzled veteran. “As are yours, Chancellor. Either that, or you’re lying to me to protect this… Taerich and Shan. Where are they?”

“If I had either of them, I’d give them to you on a platter,” Saresh snapped, and now Jace was convinced she was actively ignoring his glare. She knew Theron had been a personal favourite agent of his, even if she didn’t know of their familial connection as far as Jace knew. “Master Taerich was an arrogant, rebellious traitor to the Republic, and Agent Shan was responsible for the deaths of thousands of Republic military personnel and civilians on Ziost. If they still lived, I would be delighted to hand them over to you and rid myself of two nuisances.”

Theron Shan and Xaja Taerich were two of the best assets the Republic had! Jace silently raged as his fist clenched behind his back. And this is how you honour their memory?!

“Oh, I can assure you that they live still. These images were taken only three days ago.” Larill smirked cruelly. “Emperor Arcann is most displeased with this act of rebellion from the Republic, Chancellor. You will give me the terrorist and the assassin.”

“If I knew where they were, I’d point you right to them! I would hand them over in slave collars!”

“Big words mean nothing without actions.” Larill turned and sauntered out of the office. “You have one standard week to produce the two assets, or Emperor Arcann will retaliate. I wonder what world he’ll burn first… Balmorra? Dantooine? Coruscant itself?”

The door to the office hissed closed, and for a long minute there was silence. Saresh finally lunged to her feet and whirled to face Jace, ignoring the rest of her advisors. “Where is he, Malcom?” she snarled. “I want him – now.”

“What makes you think I know where Theron is? My last report indicated he was dead!” No way was Jace mentioning that his knowledge came from the suicide note Theron had sent him. “If he actually does live…”

“I expect you to know where he is because he’s your bastard son!” The Chancellor exclaimed. “It’s his life or the entire Republic, Commander. I know which one I would choose.”  She narrowed her eyes at him, leaning across the table. “Find him – ask his mother, for all I care – and drag his sorry shebs back here or give me coordinates to give to Zakuul!”

Saresh pushed herself back to stand tall with a huff. “And where you find him, you’ll probably find Taerich. They always seemed to be joined at the hip.” She smirked, giving a snort of derisive laughter. “Like father, like son.”

Jace’s face drained of all colour as the furious Chancellor stalked out of the room, followed by her entourage of guards and advisors. How did she know…? Theron. I need to find Theron. What he was going to do after he found his son, he wasn’t sure yet.

He was pounding on Marcus Trant’s office door twenty minutes later, and sighed in relief when the SIS Director finally let him in. “Finally. I need to talk to you. It’s about – ”

“Theron? I was just about to call you.” Marcus handed Jace a datapad. “You need to read this. I heard the ultimatum to Saresh about a minute before I saw this.”

“What –” Jace fell back into a chair as Arcann’s broadcasted message scrolled before his eyes. Images of the two supposed rogues that Zakuul was hunting matched what Larill showed Saresh in the meeting — and the male looked so much like Theron that Jace’s heart skipped a beat. It was an identical match, down to the implants and the haircut and the facial expression. Jace was reasonably sure Theron didn’t have a twin brother.

“One of my agents thinks he’s spotted Theron on Rishi, with a woman who might be Master Taerich. That intel’s only come in an hour ago.” Marcus rested his elbows on his desk and watched Jace absorb the news. “Kriff whatever suicide note Theron sent you — he’s alive, Jace. Alive and getting into more trouble than usual.”

“My son…” Jace set the datapad down and raked his hands over his scarred face, grateful for Marcus tactfully turning his head and ignoring the tear trickling out of the Supreme Commander’s eye. He coughed, regaining his composure. “How soon can your people get in contact with him and get him to safety?”

His life, or the entire Republic. Jace felt sick knowing that he was prioritizing his son’s safety over the people he’d sworn to protect… but he couldn’t betray Theron. Not like this. Not now.

“He’s been actively avoiding SIS contact since he left Coruscant,” Marcus grunted in frustration and picked up his half-empty mug of caf. Taking a sip, he frowned, then put it down. “If that is actually Master Taerich with him, we might be able to reach her. I have a report that one affiliate of the Order was last sighted on Rishi fairly recentl –” He paused as a text tone sounded in the office. “That’s not mine.”

“It’s mine,” Jace said. He numbly reached for his comm, recognizing the tone: it was customized for Theron’s messages. The last time he’d heard that sound, he’d screamed his denial of his son’s suicide note and thrown the device across the room after trying to call Theron and not getting an answer…

Not dead yet. Can’t talk, will explain later. Sorry. T.

“For fuck’s sake, Theron!” Jace shouted at the comm, ignoring Marcus choking on his caf.

Thank the Force for low tide, Xaja thought to herself as the trio hurried through waist-high ocean water. Doc was just in front of them, holding his rucksack with his medical gear on his shoulders to keep the bag dry. Theron was only a step or two behind the medic, still holding Xaja in his arms and frequently casting worried glances over his shoulder. Xaja had offered to get down and run on her own when the throbbing in her head from using the Force had eased somewhat, but Theron had only adjusted his grip on her and refused to set her down.

It was probably a fortunate thing for Xaja, if less so for Theron. She was short enough that the water height would have impeded her movements more than it did the men with her, even without the lingering muscle weakness. Doc’s medicines had made her feel much better, but she could tell she wasn’t whole yet.

The trio darted into the shadows that Bootlegger’s Market cast over the water and Doc took a quick look around. “I don’t see any pirates or crabs yet,” he hissed. “How far away’s your shuttle, Shan?”

“On the other side of the market, naturally,” Theron muttered as he finally set Xaja down on her feet and kept an arm around her back to steady her. “You okay?”

“Yeah, better than I was.” Xaja gave Theron a smile, then craned her neck around to look for any signs of pursuit. “Those hunters won’t be far behind us…”

“Yeah. We need to keep moving. I don’t feel like dying today.” Doc resettled his rucksack on his back, well above the water. “Let’s move.”

“If we can find somewhere with a news terminal on the way, so much the better,” Theron said as he hurried alongside Doc. He held Xaja’s hand tightly, half to support her, half to ensure he couldn’t lose her in the darkness under the docks. “I want to find this bounty posting and see who wants our heads this badly.”

“We can narrow that down with who can afford to pay that much for your heads,” Doc muttered. “Good news is, if we turn you in to whoever’s looking for you, we can probably get enough to afford the cure for the carboni –”

“Not an option,” Xaja quickly said, giving Doc a glare. “We’re not turning Theron in, even if they’re offering the cure itself.”

“I was kidding!” Doc protested.

“Thanks, Kimble,” Theron growled. He tugged Xaja closer to his side, frowning back over his shoulder. “They should have been following us by now,” he muttered. “Why aren’t they?”

“I, for one, am not complaining about that,” Doc retorted.

The spy sighed. “I will be if we’re walking into a trap,” he hissed.

“There were a few other routes we could have taken to get back to the shore and the town itself once we were off the beach,” Xaja pointed out. “Maybe they think we took one of those?”

“Things never go that easily,” Theron grumbled. “There’s gotta be a trap in here.”

“Besides the spice runners, the odd pirate, and the crabs?” Doc looked around. “I don’t see anything else.”

Xaja frowned, considering risking opening her senses to the Force. The splash of ocean water against her thighs made her look down and frown. Hadn’t that just been at her knees? “Doc, what time does the tide come in?”

“Mid-day, usually around 13:00.”

Theron frowned, then blinked in that strange way that let Xaja know he was interacting with his implants, and his eyes went wide. “Would now be a bad time to let you know that it’s 12:53?”

“Kriffing hell,” Doc groaned. “This is not how I thought today was going to go when I woke up this morning.” He squinted into the darkness. “I think the nearest access to surface-level is this way.”

“I guess now we’re going to find out if all of Raider’s Cove is actively gunning for us,” Xaja muttered as she hurried beside Theron. “Is that better or worse than drowning under the docks?”

“Better, I think,” Theron quickly responded. “We can shoot the bounty hunters and get intel while we’re up there. We can’t exactly do that against the ocean.”

“I dunno, drowning sounds like it would be less painful,” Doc piped up.

“If we’re dying here, I want to die fighting,” Theron grumbled. “Not swimming.”

“Guys, maybe less talk about ways to die and more trying to actively avoid dying…?”

“You started it, Red.”

“And now I’m ending it! I’m not kriffing dying until I’ve found a way to kick Arcann’s ass for freezing me for two years!”

Two run-ins with giant shellback crabs and several long minutes of running through rapidly-rising seawater later, and Theron finally ran up the ramp to the market thoroughfare. He immediately dodged between two buildings and shifted to the side as Xaja hurried up beside him, Kimble right behind her. “I vote we never do that again,” the spy muttered as he bent over and focused on breathing. He was far from out of shape, but running and swimming through water that, by the time they’d escaped the lower dock levels, had been up to his chest was exhausting.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I agree with you,” Kimble said as he looked over his shoulder. “Good news is, the meds are still dry.”

“Good,” Xaja mumbled as she rested her back against the wall and closed her eyes. She was shaking, and Theron didn’t think it was from feeling cold this time. He worriedly frowned, placing a hand on her shoulder. She opened her eyes again and gave him a weary smile. “I’m okay, just drained.”

“I can believe it.” What had been chest-high for him and Kimble had been nearly shoulder-high for the small Jedi, and there had been a moment of panic for the spy when he almost lost her in the dark water. He leaned in and kissed her forehead, half to reassure himself that she was all right. “Keep breathing, okay? Take it easy for a second. Kimble, can you –”

“On it.” Kimble was already moving over to check on Xaja. “Any muscle spasms? Dizziness? Migraines…?”

Theron crept back out of the alley as he heard Xaja’s negative answers to Kimble’s questions, carefully looking around. No signs of pursuit; no prickles on the back of his neck warning him of danger; no pirates suspiciously looking around for someone matching his description. He frowned, slowly nodded, and made his way over to a public data terminal. Let’s see if Xaja’s the subject of any new bounty postings.

It was easy enough for him to slice into the terminal’s files and connect to the HoloNet, but he didn’t even have to go to a specific bounty forum before the broadcast flashed through his vision. What’s worse, he wondered, realising we’re both going to be hunted by everyone and their mother, or… did they find the explosives? If Xaja ever finds out about that… His face drained of all colour as he mechanically downloaded the broadcast to his implants, then turned and felt his heart leap into his throat when he saw a couple of well-armoured individuals walking down the causeway. More bounty hunters? Or would Arcann have sent agents from Zakuul across the galaxy to find us? He slipped through the crowd and just avoided the hunters’ sight as he ducked back into the alley.

Xaja looked up as Kimble put away his scanner, apparently satisfied with whatever he’d seen in the results. “I was starting to worry, Theron,” she said, then frowned. “Are you all right? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Gotta agree with her,” Kimble agreed as he squinted at Theron. “You sure you’re okay?”

“For now,” Theron said. He cast a glance over his shoulder. “But we won’t be okay if we don’t get off Rishi now.” Making eye contact with Xaja, he grimaced. He hated having to say this to her. “The bounty’s legit. Arcann’s after both of us. He doesn’t have our names yet, but it’s only a matter of time.”

Xaja paled visibly despite the shadowy alley. “Fierfek. Where can we run to?”

“I don’t know,” Theron confessed. “We’ll figure that out when we’re not here.” He took Xaja’s hand and looked at Kimble. “You’re not on that bounty yet, but…”

“If word gets out I’m helping you, they’ll add me fast enough.” Kimble set his jaw in determination. “I’m going with you. Someone’s gotta keep track of these meds and keep Xaja alive.”

“Good.” Xaja gave the medic a tight smile and stepped back out to the alley exit with Theron. “We’re close to the shuttle, right?”

“Ish. If we’re lucky we might be able to get off-world before those hunters realize we didn’t drown.” Theron stepped out of the alley after taking another hard look around. No immediate danger— he started hurrying toward the docks with Xaja at his side, Kimble on her other side. Don’t make eye contact; don’t draw attention, he silently repeated in his head, over and over again. Just act casual and maybe nobody will notice. Ten more metres passed underfoot. So far so good. See, the ramp’s just ahead. You’re just fine…

The first blaster shot whizzed by his ear. Theron acted on instinct as he whirled and shoved Xaja down, trying to identify the source of that shot. “Shuttle’s two hundred metres to the left, preflight checks are done. Run!”

“Easier said than done!” Kimble yelled back, opening fire. Theron glanced over, finding the medic taking aim at the pirates swarming the causeway. He squeezed off two shots, taking down two of the pursuers. “What’s your next brilliant escape plan?”

Theron loudly swore and started shooting at the pirates, pressing his back against a stack of crates for cover. “I’m making this up as I go!”

“Oh, isn’t that reassuring!”

“Can you two quit arguing for five minutes?” Xaja snapped as she activated one of her lightsabers and spun the blade, deflecting two shots back to the pirates. One man dropped dead, another staggered from a wound. “If we can’t make it to the shuttle, can it make it to us?”

“As long as nobody’s identified and boarded it,” Theron muttered as he connected to the shuttle’s piloting systems through the implants again. “ETA of forty seconds, we’re making this a running jump again.”

“Great.” Kimble flinched from a shot that bounced off a lamppost beside his head. “There’s no possible way this could go wrong.”

“There’s only room for one cynic in this group, and that’s me, Kimble!”

“For kriff’s sake, you two! Not the time or –” Xaja cried out and fell to her knees, lightsaber deactivating. Theron paled and grabbed her as she sagged, and felt his heart nearly stop when he saw the ugly blaster burn on her left shoulder.

“Hey, ‘s’okay , Red,” Kimble quickly soothed as he crouched on Xaja’s other side behind the crates. He holstered his blaster in favour of pulling the injured Jedi upright. “You know, if you wanted our attention that bad, you didn’t have to get yourself shot to do it.”

Xaja snorted, although the motion made her wince and clutch onto Theron’s jacket sleeve. “Oww. Oh, that hurt.”

“How do you attract the worst sorts of trouble?” Theron asked as he wrapped an arm around Xaja’s waist to keep her upright.

“Traveling with you?”

Theron wasn’t above glaring at the pretty Jedi, no matter how much he cared for her. “Thanks so much for that.” A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth until the whine of his shuttle engines drew his attention sharply to the right. “Kimble, can you get her on board if I cover you?”

“On it.” The medic grunted as he took Xaja’s weight from Theron, hauling the Jedi’s uninjured arm over his shoulders as the shuttle appeared beside them. “How close can you get?”

“That’s as close as we’re getting before I start hitting the causeway. Jump!” Theron spun to cover the medic and Jedi, both blasters firing to give them cover from the pirates. He heard Kimble grumble incoherently, followed by the sounds of two humans jumping off the causeway. There were no sounds of splashing from anyone hitting the water below. That was good. Edging backward toward the ramp, blaster fire was visible out of the corner of his eye. He’d barely noticed Kimble leaning out of the shuttle and shooting at the pirates before he whirled and took a running leap to the ramp. “Xaja’s on?” he asked as he landed in a crouch and ran into the shelter of the vessel’s interior.

“I’m here,” Xaja’s strained voice answered. The Jedi was slouched in one of the chairs, gingerly trying to wriggle her injured arm out of the jacket sleeve and wincing with every movement. “You’re not hurt?”

“No, I –” Theron cringed as the blaster bolt slammed into the side of his shuttle as Kimble slammed the control for the ramp to raise. “Let’s move! Kimble, see what you can do about that shot while I’m getting us out of here.”

“Already on it! Do you have any sort of decent medical equipment on this thing?”

“First aid kit’s in the first locker on your left,” Theron called over his shoulder as he ran for the pilot’s seat. Okay, where’s close enough for a short jump from here…

“This is almost a worse crime against medicine than Red’s attempts to do anything with kolto,” Kimble loudly complained as he scowled at the depleted contents of the first aid kit.

“I heard that!” Xaja growled, although the words were lost in a hiss as Theron’s piloting made her shift to the left and bump her shoulder. “Oh, kriff…”

“Easy. I gotcha.” Kimble set the kit down; Theron could hear him gingerly removing Xaja’s jacket so he could look at the burn. “Oh, that’s hardly anything compared to what you picked up on Makeb, remember?”

“I try not to remember that entire month-long shit-show…”

The twitch in the back of his mind made Theron look up at the same time that Xaja did. A second later, a turbolaser bolt slammed into the water just to the starboard side of the shuttle, making Theron yell as he righted the vessel. “Kriffing hell, they didn’t wait long to start chasing us!” He gunned the engines through Rishi’s atmosphere and scowled when he noticed no less than three ships on his tail, with more coming up. “Hang on, this is gonna get rough!”

“Why does anyone do anything with you, Shan?” Kimble loudly complained. “Everything you touch becomes a disaster!”

“I resent that!” Theron plugged in nearby coordinates, just enough for a short hyperspace jump to throw the pirates off their track. “Jumping to hyperspace in three…”

Another ship suddenly emerged into real-space just over their heads. Theron barely had time to register the make of the ship as an X-70B Phantom, but didn’t have the chance to wonder why that ship was familiar before he was swerving around it and gunning it for hyperspace.

“Holy – !” Reanden pulled up hard on the Shadow’s controls as he came out into realspace virtually on top of a nondescript shuttle hauling ass away from Rishi. And the spy could understand why — he counted no less than three ships, all tagged by local gangs, jumping into hyperspace immediately after the shuttle. Another half-dozen swarmed in the atmosphere.

“I don’t envy whoever’s in that shuttle,” Dr. Lokin dryly remarked as he watched the ships vanish into space. “You don’t suppose…”

“One small ship being chased by two or three pirate gangs?” Reanden’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a bounty posting as high as the one Arcann’s put out. If that is Shan’s ship, they’re going to have everyone chasing them across the galaxy.”

“Your daughter’s proving to be more difficult to keep track of than your sons, combined.” Lokin shook his head. “Are we pursuing?”

“Damn straight we are. SCORPIO, calculate where that ship’s trajectory will put them at. We’re going after them.”

The droid gave Reanden what might be described as a condescending look, but she obeyed the order. “The shuttle’s current trajectory puts it in line for arriving in Manda’s orbital path within a standard hour. The pursuing pirate ships will not be far behind.”

“And neither will we.” The old spy quickly plugged in the coordinates, and the Shadow leapt into hyperspace in pursuit of the pirates and their target.

[centerofstupidity]

A Walk to Remember Chapter 1 Snark

If you enjoy the content you are reading, please like and follow the Center of Stupidity blog.

Interested in reading the previous A Walk to Remember chapter snarks? They can be found here. 

Next Nicholas Sparks Book Snark: The Rescue 

Chapter summary: We meet a Bible-thumping minister and Landon is a terrible person. Also, the designated love interest is an Angel of the House: innocent, perfect, and pure.

The story is set in Beaufort, North Carolina in 1958.

Landon says that the humidity is so hot in the summer that “walking out to get the mail made a person feel as if he needed a shower.”

People waved from their cars whenever they saw someone on the street whether they knew him or not,

In a Nicholas Sparks, everyone is friendly, good, and God-fearing Christians. (The villain is always one-dimensional.)

They know each other’s business and have lived in town for their entire lives. And news always travels fast in the small town.

Landon says for many people fishing and crabbing is a way of life.

Only three channels came in on the television, though television was never important to those of us who grew up there. Instead our lives were centered around the churches, of which there were eighteen within the town limits alone.

1. Yes, I know that Americans were more religious in the 1950’s. 2. But they still had a life outside of a church and weren’t thinking about Jesus 24/7. 3. People went camping and fishing. They also went to bowling alleys, sock hops, and drive-in movie theaters. 4. For most of the story, Landon isn’t very religious. He goes to church but that’s it. And Landon regards a girl who reads the Bible every day as a weirdo. 5. The only time Landon became religious is when he supposedly fell in love with Jamie. 6. It is important to remember that Nicholas Sparks has writing rules that he won’t break like all of his characters must go to church.  7. And he has said that people without faith are alone, thinking they are the center of the universe. 

Landon rattles off the names and types of Baptist churches in the area.

The big event of the year is a Christmas play sponsored by the Baptist church downtown and the local high school.

The play is written by Hegbert Sullivan, “a minister who’d been with the church since Moses parted the Red Sea."

Okay, maybe he wasn’t that old, but he was old enough that you could almost see through the guy’s skin. It was sort of clammy all the time, and translucent—kids would swear they actually saw the blood flowing through his veins—

Translucent skin… Translu…

“His skin was translucently white, like onionskin, and it looked just as delicate—” New Moon by Stephenie Meyer

So Hegbert is a sparklepire? Good to know.

and his hair was as white as those bunnies you see in pet stores around Easter.

Wow. Just wow. The prose is so boring and bland.

And Nicholas Sparks thinks he writes like Ernest Hemingway…

Also, what seventeen-year-old boy would say “bunnies”?

Hebert wrote the play The Christmas Angel because he hates A Christmas Carol.

In his mind, Scrooge was a heathen, who came to his redemption only because he saw ghosts, not angels—and who was to say whether they’d been sent by God, anyway?

I hate to break it to ya but both ghosts and angels are spirits.

The only difference is that a ghost is a human spirit that has not properly passed over to the other side and they remain on earth while angels are spiritual beings of light.

And who was to say he wouldn’t revert to his sinful ways if they hadn’t been sent directly from heaven?

Um… If the ghosts weren’t sent from Heaven, then where did they come from?

Baptists don’t believe in purgatory. After death, they believe that there are only two places where people can go: Heaven or Hell.

Unless the minister thinks the ghosts are demons in disguise.

It won’t make any sense because the three spirits are trying to get Scrooge to repent and be a better person.

The play didn’t exactly tell you in the end—it sort of plays into faith and all—

Maybe Charles Dickens didn’t think he had to spell it out in 72 pt Times New Roman font.

but Hegbert didn’t trust ghosts if they weren’t actually sent by God, which wasn’t explained in plain language, and this was his big problem with it.

1. And where is the proof that they are not sent by God? 2. Faith is about believing without seeing and not demanding proof. 3. And Christians who deepen their faith learn how to discern between the voice of God, the voice of Satan, and one’s ego. 4. Is Hegbert pissed off at Charles Dickens because the ghosts didn’t say ”I am the ghost of Christmas (past/present/future) and I was sent by God the Father Almighty, Maker of Heaven and Earth"? 5. Because following that logic, the Archangel Raphael was not sent by God. 6. In The Book of Tobit, the Archangel Raphael didn’t reveal his identity until Tobit cures his father’s blindness. For most of the story, Tobit knew the Archangel Raphael as Azariah the son of Hananiah the great.

A few years back he’d changed the end of the play—sort of followed it up with his own version, complete with old man Scrooge becoming a preacher and all, heading off to Jerusalem to find the place where Jesus once taught the scribes.

Unsurprisingly, nobody liked the play so Hegbert decided to write his own play.

He’d written his own sermons his whole life, and some of them, we had to admit, were actually interesting, especially when he talked about the “wrath of God coming down on the fornicators” and all that good stuff.

A fire and brimstone minister.

N. Sparks will claim later on that he has a great sense of humor and we are supposed to see him as a great guy.

Because we all know fire and brimstone ministers are not anti-semitic, homophobic, islamophobic, misogynistic, racist, sexist and xenophobic pieces of shit.

That really got his blood boiling, I’ll tell you, when he talked about the fornicators. That was his real hot spot.

“And don’t get him started on those Commies and sodomites."

So Landon and his friends hid behind trees and shouting that Hegbert is a fornicator before walking down the street.

We’d giggle like idiots, like we were the wittiest creatures ever to inhabit the planet.

Landon is following Anita Blake's logic: If you do something wrong, just say you feel bad about it, and continue being a terrible person. And nobody will dare tell you to STOP being an asshole.

Old Hegbert, he’d stop dead in his tracks and his ears would perk up—I swear to God, they actually moved—and he’d turn this bright shade of red, like he’d just drunk gasoline, and the big green veins in his neck would start sticking out all over, like those maps of the Amazon River that you see in National Geographic.

1. So Hegbert is a mog too? (Virtual cupcake to anyone who gets that reference.) 2. I know that some people can wiggle their ears. Because humans can't perk their ears up like a dog.

Hegbert is pissed off and he is looking for them.

Boy, it was something to watch, that’s for sure.

"Being an asshole is a lot of fun!"

So the assholes are hiding behind a tree. Landon sneers "what kind of parents name their kid Hegbert, anyway?" and Hegbert is standing there, waiting for them to "to give ourselves up, as if he thought we’d be that stupid."

They cover their mouths with their hands and Hegbert always knows where to find them.

Hegbert tells them that he along with the Lord knows "who you are". And a minute later, Hegbert walks away.

During the sermon that weekend he’d stare right at us and say something like “God is merciful to children, but the children must be worthy as well.”

"But subject you to pain, unpleasantness -- suffering -- and you will take notice, you will fight to overcome, to earn your redemption. That is when you're at your best." Gabriel from Constantine 2005.

I think Gabriel and Hegbert should go bowling.

The assholes lower themselves in seats "not from embarrassment, but to hide a new round of giggles."

Landon says that Hegbert didn't understand us "didn’t understand us at all, which was really sort of strange, being that he had a kid and all."

But then again, she was a girl. More on that, though, later.

"Girls are ladylike and only like cute and pretty things. And tomboys don't exist."

Landon repeats the fact that Hegbert is the one who wrote The Christmas Angel and decided to put on the play.

He says that the play isn't bad and this surprised everyone the first year it was performed.

I am putting on my jeweled turban and gaze into my crystal ball.

It's about Hegbert Tom Thorton who had lost his wife in childbirth and is raising a daughter all on his own.

It will also be sappy like a Hallmark movie. Aren't I awesome?

He hasn't been the greatest father and his daughter wants a special music box for Christmas. He can't find the box and meets an angel disguised as a woman on Christmas Eve.

The angel promises to help him to get the gift for his daughter. Along the way, they help a homeless person and Landon is quick to say that "back then they were called bums".

Tom tells the angel that he wants his wife back for Christmas. The angel tells him to look into the city fountain and he'll find what he is looking for.

Tom cries after seeing the face of his daughter. The angel is MIA and Tom heads home.

He realizes he hasn't been a good father and that his daughter is all he has left of his wife.

The story ends with the music box underneath the tree and the angel on the box looks exactly like the mysterious woman.

Landon repeats that the play "wasn't that bad".

Apparently, the play sold out every year and people "cried buckets" every time they saw it.

Hegbert wants seniors in high school to perform the play and not the theater group.

I reckon he thought it would be a good learning experience before the seniors headed off to college and came face-to-face with all the fornicators.

Unless these seniors want to become actors, how is performing a play count as "good learning experience"? 

And how does performing a Christmas give the students the information to deal with "fornicators"? 

I'm getting the impression that Nicholas Sparks thinks that men and women in the past were BOTH expected to stay celibate before marriage.

But that's not the case. Men weren't expected to remain virgins.

Men could have extramarital affairs, have longtime mistresses, and even have sex with other men. And guys would get away with it as long as they didn't flaunt them in public.

Women were expected to celibate until they were married. It took an unchaperoned visit or ONE sexual affair for a woman to be considered a whore. 

He was that kind of guy, you know, always wanting to save us from temptation.

"Remember boys and girls: premarital sex is wrong!"

He wanted us to know that God is out there watching you, even when you’re away from home, and that if you put your trust in God, you’ll be all right in the end.

Riiight.

Because the same minister who gives fire and brimstone sermons would be the sort of person that would talk about God watching over you and if you trust Him, then things will be all right.

I think the minister would most likely say "God is always watching your every move. If you are bad, He will smite you. And your soul will burn in Hell for all eternity."

It was a lesson that I would eventually learn in time, though it wasn’t Hegbert who taught me.

"It would be my designated love interest."

Landon says that Beaufort is a typical southern town but it has an interesting history.

He talks about how Blackbeard owned a house in town and recently his ship might have been found by "some archaeologists or oceanographers or whoever looks for stuff like that."

Landon, they are called marine archaeologists.

Being that it sank over 250 years ago and you can’t exactly reach into the glove compartment and check the registration.

Because a pirate ship would have a glove box.

I think that comment sounded wittier in Nicholas Spark’s head than it does on paper.

Beaufort’s come a long way since the 1950s, but it’s still not exactly a major metropolis or anything.

We get it, Landon. Beaufort is a quaint and small southern town.

Beaufort was, and always will be, on the smallish side, but when I was growing up, it barely warranted a place on the map.

For the love of all that is holy, will you please stop talking about the same thing over and over again?

Landon keeps talking about how Beaufort is a small town and how "the congressional district that included Beaufort covered the entire eastern part of the state—some twenty thousand square miles—and there wasn’t a single town with more than twenty-five thousand people."

It turns out that Landon's father is a congressman.

I suppose you’ve heard of him. He’s sort of a legend, even now.

If he was a legend, then you wouldn't be telling us who he is.

Landon's father is Worth Carter and he was a congressman for almost thirty years.

Worth's election slogan is “Worth Carter represents ———” and people are supposed to fill in the city name where they lived.

I can remember, driving on trips when me and Mom had to make our appearances to show the people he was a true family man

I call bullshit on Landon's dad being a "true family man".

Landon's father is gone nine months out of the year and is living in Washington D.C. while his mother is taking care of him.

Landon talks about how his father election slogan "was fairly sophisticated publicity."

He says that nowadays people would put foul language in the blank space but in the good ol' days  "we never saw it once."

Landon quickly backpedals and says "okay, maybe once."

A farmer from Duplin County once wrote the word shit in the blank space, and when my mom saw it, she covered my eyes and said a prayer asking for forgiveness for the poor ignorant bastard.

Nicholas Sparks is still trying to persuade me that 1950's was a wholesome utopia.

But I'm not convinced.

Every era of human history, no matter how fascinating or glamorous, has a dark side that people don't want to acknowledge. 

And I find it very hard to believe that Landon has never seen or heard foul language before. 

For instance, in middle school, I heard people say things that would make even a sailor blush. 

Since Landon's mother is ladylike, she "didn’t say exactly those words."

So my father, Mr. Congressman, was a big-wig, and everyone but everyone knew it, including old man Hegbert.

Landon claimed that daddy dearest was a "legend."

And Merriam-Webster defines a bigwig as "an important person"

So the words "everyone but everyone knew it" is redundant.

Worth Carter and Hegbert don't get along. But Worth still goes to Hegbert's church whenever he was in town.

Hegbert, in addition to his belief that fornicators were destined to clean the urinals in hell, also believed that communism was “a sickness that doomed mankind to heathenhood.”

I will bring this up if anyone claims that Hegbert is a good guy. 

One of the biggest problems with A Walk to Remember is plot mixing. 

What is plot mixing, you may ask?

Plot mixing is a term that I have coined. Plot mixing is when an artist takes at least two contradictory plots and they mix it together haphazardly, resulting in a ghastly mess. 

For instance, Hegbert is supposed to be a wonderful guy with a great sense of humor. But he is acting like a Bible-thumping minister. 

They also knew that he was directing his words specifically to my father, who would sit with his eyes closed and pretend not to listen.

I have just a quick question: why would Landon's dad go to a church where the minister despises him and makes pointed sermons?  

According to Landon, there are other churches in the area. So, why hasn't Worth Carter left Hegbert's church and joined another church?

It turns out that Landon's father belongs to the House of Un-American Activities Committee.

My father had consistently looked for facts, which were irrelevant to people like Hegbert.

IRL, I hate it when people think they are the gatekeepers of knowledge, truth, and wisdom.

They also claim that they have "facts" that support their worldviews.

If anyone who disagrees with them, then they are dumb sheep and a racist bigot.

Are we seriously supposed to see HUAC as the good guys? 

HUAC ruined people's lives and careers. And their actions violated the 1st and 5th Amendments of the Bill of Rights. 

Every time Landon's father would come home after the church service, he would complain about Reverend Sullivan.

My father tried to defuse situations whenever possible. I think that’s why he stayed in Congress for so long.

Like any politician, a congressperson gives people in high places verbal blowjobs and make promises that they have no intentions of keeping along with having goons to cover up their crimes.

The guy could kiss the ugliest babies known to mankind and still come up with something nice to say.

Are we supposed to applaud Landon's dad being nice to the "ugly" people?

“He’s such a gentle child,” he’d say when a baby had a giant head, or, “I’ll bet she’s the sweetest girl in the world,” if she had a birthmark over her entire face. One time a lady showed up with a kid in a wheelchair. My father took one look at him and said, “I’ll bet you ten to one that you’re smartest kid in your class.”

Fuck this book with a rusty screwdriver!

And he wasn’t such a bad guy, not really, especially if you consider the fact that he didn’t beat me or anything.

A parent is not supposed to abuse their children, you twat!

But he wasn’t there for me growing up.

In a better story, Landon being estranged from his father would be a source of conflict. 

And throughout the story, Landon would fix his broken relationship with his father.

But this is a shitty story, Landon will meet his designated one tru luv who is purer than Sir Galahad. 

Landon spends time with this girl and his relationship with Dad is magically mended. 

I hate to say that because nowadays people claim that sort of stuff even if their parent was around and use it to excuse their behavior. I’m not using it to excuse the person I’ve become, I’m simply saying it as a fact.

No, you did. 

You even said it "made me become something of a rebel."

My mother didn’t go with him because both of them wanted me to grow up “the same way they had.”

So they were raised by one parent?

Wait a tick... I think what Landon means is that his parents wanted him to grow up in a small town. 

And small towns tend to be politically conservative. 

As a member of HUAC, a married man living alone would raise more than a few eyebrows.

Especially since the nuclear family was considered the "ideal" family in 1950's.

Also during this time period, people wanted to uphold traditional family roles and values.   

I'm sure Worth Carter's political opponents would have a field day if they knew he wasn't a family man. 

And you can't tell me that in a Southern small-town that people won't gossip about a married woman raising a child all by herself and her husband is rarely home. 

Landon says that his grandfather spent time with his father and how that "adds up to quite a bit before adulthood."

Landon talks about how his father was "a stranger" and someone he "barely knew at all."

He also used to think that "all fathers lived somewhere else."

Landon says that one day his best friend Eric Hunter asks him "who that guy was who showed up at my house".

Landon replies that the man was his father "proudly."

“Oh,” Eric said as he rifled through my lunchbox, looking for my Milky Way, “I didn’t know you had a father.”

"People around town were saying that your mamma was a whore and has a beau."

Landon repeats the fact that he was raised by his mother.

Now she was a nice lady, sweet and gentle, the kind of mother most people dream about.

Because most people want their mother to be a cold-hearted bitch.

Does Landon seriously think that his mother deserves a medal for not being an asshole? 

And I'm getting the feeling that dear old mom is going to be a submissive housewife who never speaks her mind, makes sure the house is always immaculate and treats her husband like a king. 

But she wasn’t, nor could she ever be, a manly influence in my life, and that fact, coupled with my growing disillusionment with my father, made me become something of a rebel, even at a young age.

Where do I even begin?

According to Landon, women are incapable of doing/liking "manly" activities. 

Butch women or tomboys don't exist. ALL women love feminine things and are ladylike. 

And it takes a MAN to raise a "real" man.

The father is supposed to do "manly" activities with his son on a regular basis. And boys are supposed to do and like "manly" activities.

If the boy doesn't and becomes a delinquent, then he is a sissy and his mother is to blame.

Not a bad one, mind you.

This is a Nicholas Sparks novel.

He would never have a "protagonist" do bad things. He has a wholesome image to uphold.

They must be good as gold or be mildly delinquent.

Me and my friends might sneak out late and soap up car windows now and then or eat boiled peanuts in the graveyard behind the church, but in the fifties that was the kind of thing that made other parents shake their heads and whisper to their children, “You don’t want to be like that Carter boy. He’s on the fast track to prison.”

Contrary to what Nicholas Sparks might believe, the 1950's wasn't Leave it to Beaver.

For instance, people did phone pranks, threw cherry bombs or were stealing statues.

Me. A bad boy. For eating boiled peanuts in the graveyard. Go figure.

Landon repeats the fact that his father and Hegbert don't get along. But he says "it wasn’t only because of politics."

And then it happens.

It turns out that Worth Carter and Hegbert knew each other for a long time.

And Hegbert is twenty years older than Daddy Dearest and used to work for Landon's grandfather.

My grandfather— even though he spent lots of time with my father —was a true bastard if there ever was one.

I have a question, Landon. Does your grandfather only wears black clothing and has an evil laugh?

He was the one, by the way, who made the family fortune, but I don’t want you to imagine him as the sort of man who slaved over his business, working diligently and watching it grow, prospering slowly over time.

We get it, Nicholas Sparks. Landon's grandpa is more evil and greedy than all the robber barons.

Next, you'll be telling us that grandpa was a pedophile or kicked puppies for fun.

His grandfather was a bootlegger during the Prohibition, started buying land and then hired sharecroppers to work it.

Grandpa also took ninety percent of the money the sharecroppers made and loaned them money whenever they needed it at high-interest rates.

Grandpa is so EVIL he forecloses on any equipment or land they happen to own. Evil Grandpa...

No. From now on, I'm calling him Grandpa Beelzebub or GB.

GB started a bank called "Carter Banking and Loan."

The only other bank in a two-county radius had mysteriously burned down, and with the onset of the Depression, it never reopened.

The other bank didn't "mysteriously" burn down, you twit. GB had his goons torch the place.

Though everyone knew what had really happened, not a word was ever spoken for fear of retribution, and their fear was well placed.

So even the police were shaking in their boots?

The bank wasn't the only building that burned down.

Landon repeats the fact that Grandpa Beelzebub's interest rates "were outrageous." As time progresses, GB amasses more land and property.

He gets the original owners to continue working and pays them just enough money to "to keep them where they were, because they had nowhere else to go."

He told them that when the economy improved, he’d sell their business back to them, and people always believed him.

The townspeople know that GB used fear and intimidation to get what he wanted along with his shady business practices.

And they ALL believed that he would honor his promises. 

Never once, however, did he keep his promise. In the end he controlled a vast portion of the county’s economy, and he abused his clout in every way imaginable.

Ya know what?

There are so many times I can point out how Grandpa Beelzebub is cartoonishly evil so I'll let this gif speak for itself.

Grandpa Beelzebub died while having sex with his mistress on his yacht in the Cayman Islands. GB was also an old man.

He’d outlived both his wives and his only son.

If Daddy Dearest died before GB, he wouldn't be a prominent congressman.

And Landon would have never met his father. 

He would be visiting Daddy's grave and be raised by a widow. 

Life, I’ve learned, is never fair.

Marvel at how deep he is! No one has ever made such a wise statement.

Landon whines that it should be taught in school.

Hegbert, once he realized what a bastard my grandfather really was,

You mean arson and usury are not legal and moral? I never knew that!

Thanks for letting me know, Nicholas Sparks!

So, Hegbert quit working for GB and went into the ministry. Then he started ministering in the same church that Landon's family attended.

Hegbert spent some time "perfecting his fire-and brimstone act", giving monthly sermons on the evils of greed.

He was so busy Bible thumping that he had "scant time for anything else."

Hegbert was forty-three when he was married and his daughter Jamie was born when he was fifty-five.

Hegbert's wife was twenty-three years old and had six miscarriages before Jamie was born. She also died in childbirth.

Hence, of course, the story behind the play.

I love it when I'm right. And Hegbert is so arrogant if he thinks that everyone would want to see a play that is his thinly veiled life story.

People knew the story even before the play was first performed.

If it was any more obvious, the character Tom would be called Hegbert and be a minister.

It was one of those stories that made its rounds whenever Hegbert had to baptize a baby or attend a funeral.

Baptists don't baptize babies. They believe that only believers should be baptized and be fully immersed in the water.

Landon repeats the fact that everyone knew about Hegbert's story and says it is why people "got emotional" when they saw the play.

They knew it was based on something that happened in real life, which gave it special meaning.

So if a story isn't based on something that happened in real life, then it isn't special? Fuck you, Landon.

Jamie Sullivan was a senior in high school, just like me, and she’d already been chosen to play the angel, not that anyone else even had a chance.

I would be very surprised if Jamie WASN'T in the play.

After all, the play was written by her father and is a thinly veiled story about her dad losing her mom.

And real subtle, Nicholas Sparks.

A saintly girl is going to play an angel. 

Thank God, Jamie isn't named Sunshine Goodness. 

Jamie playing the angel is going to make the play "extra special" and how it is going to be a "big deal" especially for Miss Garber.

Miss Garber is the drama teacher and she was excited "the first time I met her in class."

Landon admits that he really didn't want to take drama class but it was "either that or chemistry II."  

No papers, no tests, no tables where I’d have to memorize protons and neutrons and combine elements in their proper formulas … what could possibly be better for a high school senior?

How about lunch? All you have to do is eat and socialize.

It seemed like a sure thing, and when I signed up for it, I thought I’d just be able to sleep through most every class, which, considering my late night peanut eating, was fairly important at the time.

Why am I getting the feeling that "late night peanut eating" is a euphemism for sex? Because eating peanuts is not a strenuous thing to do...

Landon arrives before the bell rang and sits in the back of the room.

Miss Garber had her back turned to the class, and she was busy writing her name in big cursive letters, as if we didn’t know who she was.

You just said that you met Miss Garber for the first time in class.

Now you are saying that you already knew her.

Which is it, Landon? 

All these contradictions are giving me a headache. 

Everyone knew her—it was impossible not to.

"She was bludgeoned with the ugly stick."

Am I the only one who thinks this comment is catty?

She was big, at least six feet two, with flaming red hair and pale skin that showed her freckles well into her forties.

The word "tall" seems like a better fit. 

Big is used to describe the size of something.

While "tall" refers to the height of something.

I seriously hope that Landon isn't saying that this woman is "ugly". 

She was also overweight—I’d say honestly she pushed two fifty—and she had a fondness for wearing flower patterned muumuus. She had thick, dark, horn-rimmed glasses, and she greeted everyone with, “Helloooooo,” sort of singing the last syllable.

Translation: she's a fat Julia Child who wears glasses.  

From now on, I shall call Miss Garber Julia Child.

Miss Garber was one of a kind, that’s for sure, and she was single, which made it even worse.

Stop! Do not pass go! Do not collect $200!

A guy, no matter how old, couldn’t help but feel sorry for a gal like her.

Because after all, beauty on the outside is the only thing that matters. 

Being a good human being and having a nice personality is overrated. 

Later on, Landon complains that "the pickings were getting pretty slim" and how he doesn't want to be stuck bringing an "ugly" girl to the homecoming dance (i.e.  girls who have thick glasses or have lisps.)

People praise Nicholas Sparks for writing wholesome fiction that has life lessons and good morals. 

But I would rather read a story that has swearing (Ow! My virgin ears!) or graphic sex (gasp!) than a story with shitty messages and it is written by a pretentious writer who believes that they write literary masterpieces. 

Julia Child writes the three goals that she wants to accomplish: self-confidence, self-awareness, and self-fulfillment.

Landon remarks that she was "into the 'self' stuff."

Maybe it had something to do with the way she looked; maybe she was just trying to feel better about herself. But I digress.

It wasn’t until the class started that I noticed something unusual.

"Everyone wore black cloaks and pledged their allegiance to Satan."

Landon is surprised that the class is "at least ninety percent female" because he "knew for a fact" that school is split 50/50 between boys and girls.

There was only one other male in the class, which to my thinking was a good thing, and for a moment I felt flush with a “look out world, here I come” kind of feeling.

The schools in Beaufort NC have excellent math programs...

I don't feel like spending hours trying to look up the average high school class size in North Carolina during the 1950's.

So I'll be using the current average high school class size in North Carolina.

According to this, the average class size for secondary school (high school) in North Carolina is 25.8 students.

Let's say there are twenty-six students in the drama class. 

91% of 26 would be 23.66

Approximately, there would be 23 girls and 3 boys. 

Besides Landon, there would be two other boys in the classroom.

Girls, girls, girls … I couldn’t help but think. Girls and girls and no tests in sight.

It is good to know that Landon is thinking with his head and not with his dick.

Okay, so I wasn’t the most forward-thinking guy on the block.

Anita Blake Logic # 2: If you say something wrong, act like you are feeling guilty.

You DON'T try to be a better person and APOLOGIZE to the person/people that you have hurt. No one EVER calls you out on your shit.

So Julia Child talks about the play and tells everyone that Jamie is going to play the angel.

She starts clapping and it turns out that she is a member of Landon's church.

And there were a lot of people who thought she was gunning for Hegbert in a romantic sort of way. The first time I heard it, I remember thinking that it was a good thing they were too old to have children, if they ever did get together. Imagine—translucent with freckles?

The very thought gave everyone shudders, but of course, no one ever said anything about it, at least within hearing distance of Miss Garber and Hegbert.

So everyone is an asshole and gossips like fishwives?

Gossip is one thing, hurtful gossip is completely another, and even in high school we weren’t that mean.

"Like Duloc, the South is a perfect place!"

I'm sorry but I don't believe that a high school with no cliques and everyone is nice exists. 

Landon is a douchebag and so are his friends. 

Also, how is gossiping about Thank God Hegbert and Julia Child can't reproduce count as not being "mean"?

And the townspeople talk about Hegbert's wife having multiple miscarriages and dying in childbirth...

And for a novel that is so friggin' preachy by constantly talking about God's plan/the Lord's plan and quoting Bible verses...

It doesn't realize that the Good Book doesn't view gossip as a venial sin while "hurtful" gossip is a mortal sin.

The Bible denounces it.

Julia Child keeps on clapping until everyone finally joined in. She orders Jamie to stand up.

Jamie stands up and turns around. Julia Child is clapping even faster to which Landon snidely remarks "as if she were standing in the presence of a bona fide movie star."

Now Jamie Sullivan was a nice girl. She really was.

Translation: It's a pleasant way to say that she isn't attractive.

Landon talks about the town only has one elementary school so everyone has been "in the same classes our entire lives."

He admits to having a "few conversations" with Jamie.

Who I saw in school was one thing; who I saw after school was something completely different, and Jamie had never been on my social calendar.

"She is not worthy to stand before me!"

It’s not that Jamie was unattractive— don’t get me wrong. She wasn’t hideous or anything like that.

"Inner beauty is overrated!"

Landon reluctantly admits that Jamie "wasn't half-bad." But he doesn't consider her to be attractive.

Despite the fact that she was thin, with honey blond hair and soft blue eyes, most of the time she looked sort of … plain, and that was when you noticed her at all.

Because having fair skin, blonde hair, and blue eyes were NEVER considered to be signs of beauty.

And I really hate it when a character is "TV ugly".

Especially when it is combined with this. 

Jamie didn’t care much about outward appearances, because she was always looking for things like “inner beauty,” and I suppose that’s part of the reason she looked the way she did.

I love how inner beauty is put in quotes. As if the concept is absolute horse shit.

For as long as I’d known her—and this was going way back, remember— she’d always worn her hair in a tight bun, almost like a spinster, without a stitch of makeup on her face.

This statement is obnoxious because later on in the story Jamie will be described as beautiful even when she is dying of a terminal illness.

Jamie wears frumpy clothes and everyone thought it was "just a phase".

But it wasn’t just the way Jamie looked that made her different; it was also the way she acted.

"She acted like an Angel of the House: innocent, perfect, and pure."

Jamie never went to slumber parties or had a boyfriend.

Old Hegbert would probably have had a heart attack if she had.

Hegbert would have denounced his daughter as a harlot before killing her.

Jamie carried her Bible wherever she went, and if her looks and Hegbert didn’t keep the boys away, the Bible sure as heck did.

"It couldn't possibly be that her father is a Bible-thumping asshat."

Now, I liked the Bible as much as the next teenage boy,

Translation: not at all.

but Jamie seemed to enjoy it in a way that was completely foreign to me.

"She reads it from cover to cover."

Not only did she go to vacation Bible school every August, but she would read the Bible during lunch break at school.

This is Nicholas Spark's "subtle" way of telling us that Jamie is a good person. Because she reads the Bible.

Landon thinks Jamie is abby normal. How romantic.

No matter how you sliced it, reading Paul’s letters to the Ephesians wasn’t nearly as much fun as flirting, if you know what I mean.

Because flirting is a lot of fun!

If I didn't know any better, I'd say flirting is a code word for sex... 

But one of Nicholas Sparks' writing rules is that his teenage characters never have premarital sex. 

But Jamie didn’t stop there. I knew she volunteered at the orphanage in Morehead City, but for her that simply wasn’t enough.

Let me guess. Jamie is SO good that she is going to help baby animals and solve world hunger.

She was always in charge of one fund-raiser or another, helping everyone from the Boy Scouts to the Indian Princesses, and I know that when she was fourteen, she spent part of her summer painting the outside of an elderly neighbor’s house. Jamie was the kind of girl who would pull weeds in someone’s garden without being asked or stop traffic to help little kids cross the road. She’d save her allowance to buy a new basketball for the orphans, or she’d turn around and drop the money into the church basket on Sunday.

Ho-lee fuck! Where do I even begin?

There is no such thing as a Native American princess.

Nobody is perfect. But according to Nicholas Sparks Landon, Jamie is practically perfect in every way. 

Jamie is NEVER depicted as having any flaws. She is always nice to everyone and always never does anything wrong.

She was, in other words, the kind of girl who made the rest of us look bad, and whenever she glanced my way, I couldn’t help but feel guilty, even though I hadn’t done anything wrong.

You are a douchebag who makes snide comments.

Nor did Jamie limit her good deeds to people. If she ever came across a wounded animal, for instance, she’d try to help it, too. Opossums, squirrels, dogs, cats, frogs … it didn’t matter to her.

We get it, Sparks. Jamie is a paragon of virtue. Stop talking.

With Jamie, everything was in the Lord’s plan. That was another thing. She always mentioned the Lord’s plan whenever you talked to her, no matter what the subject.

I get it, Sparks.

Jamie is a saintly person. 

And Jesus is love, Jesus is life.

Landon tells us that Jamie thinks she is "so blessed to have a father like mine."

He thinks "what planet she actually came from."

Despite all these other strikes, though, the one thing that really drove me crazy about her was the fact that she was always so damn cheerful, no matter what was happening around her.

In real life, a person who is ALWAYS cheerful is depressed.

But this is a Nicholas Sparks novel. 

So Jamie is cheerful like a Disney princess. 

Thank God, Jamie doesn't break into song.

I swear, that girl never said a bad thing about anything or anyone, even to those of us who weren’t that nice to her.

Translation: Jamie is a female version of Jesus Christ.

Landon keeps going on about how nice Jamie is.

All the adults "adored" her and ladies would "come running out of their house" if they see Jamie walking by.

I was thinking about all this while Jamie stood in front of us on the first day of drama class, and I admit that I wasn’t much interested in seeing her.

For a girl that Landon despises, he won't stop talking about her.

But strangely, when Jamie turned to face us, I kind of got a shock, like I was sitting on a loose wire or something.

It is bad enough that Nicholas Sparks is forcing a romance between two characters and will claim that they are soulmates...

Now he has them feeling an instant electric connection.  

What’s next? Will fireworks go off? Will cherubs start to sing?

She wore a plaid skirt with a white blouse under the same brown cardigan sweater I’d seen a million times, but there were two new bumps on her chest that the sweater couldn’t hide that I swore hadn’t been there just three months earlier.

I'll give three guesses and the first two don't count. 

It isn't surprising since a lot of Nicholas Sparks' novels are renowned for having contrived "tragic" endings in which someone (usually the love interest) dies.

She’d never worn makeup and she still didn’t, but she had a tan, probably from Bible school, and for the first time she looked—well, almost pretty.

If "almost pretty" isn't a backhanded compliment, I don't know what is.

Landon quickly "dismissed" the thought.

But as she looked around the room, she stopped and smiled right at me, obviously glad to see that I was in the class.

Smiling is an expression that shows happiness, affection, etc. 

She shouldn't be happy to see him. 

The guy mocks her and avoids her like the plague. 

But Sparks told us that Jamie is made up of sugar, spice, and everything nice.

It wasn’t until later that I would learn the reason why.

[junker-town]

These are the best and worst sports in fiction, according to us

What is your favorite fictional sport and why is it Calvinball?

Inventing a sport is hard. The best fictional sports from movies/books/shows/etc. seem to fall into two categories: Either exceedingly clever games you have always wished you could play (and sometimes can!), or senseless, broken dreck that no one could possibly find fun, no matter what a story’s canon would lead you to believe.

Here are the best and worst fictional sports, as selected by SB Nation staff. There are a lot of other options out there, however, and plenty of discussion to be had about what sports even count as “fictional.” Does a sport you can “play” in a video game count? What about, uh, murder-based sports?

Let us know in the comments. Or just yell at us about our decisions. That’s fine, too.

Best: Jumanji

I wanted to consider the board game oeuvre of fictional sports, and considered Cones of Dunshire for the top spot. But Jumanji is it to me for the way it captured my imagination as a kid. Will it inflict untold damage, and potential death, upon you and everyone around for miles? Sure. It may also turn you into a cool monkey boy with a prehensile tail. Just roll the dice, dingus, it’s your turn.

Worst: Star Wars holochess (I guess it’s called Dejarik)

It’s kinda like Magic: The Gathering crossed with chess. The board looks too cramped for much strategy to take place, though. Plus you have to let the Wookiee win.

— Louis Bien

Best: Blernsball

Blernsball is the 30th-century version of baseball, which took place in Futurama (Season 3, episode 16, “A Leela of Her Own”).

The reasoning behind this being the best fictional sport, is that baseball in the future undoubtedly has to be better than baseball in its current form. It’s that simple. Baseball is good now, and assuming they were to actually evolve over nine more centuries, it could be great.

But that’s also a big if.

Worst: Poohsticks

The objective of Poohsticks (from Winnie-the-Pooh, obv) is to stand over some running water, drop a stick, and see whose stick gets down to the end first.

Go play Fortnite or Call of Duty instead.

— Harry Lyles Jr.

Best: BASEketball

A sport that combines all the fun of basketball with none of the running, jumping, or otherwise-needed athletic traits one needs to typically be good at basketball. Any game you can play with a beer in hand is a good one. Especially if all you have to do to play defense is remind opponents how their sister’s GOING OUT WITH SQUEAK.

Worst (but not really): Bouillabaseball

It’s just baseball with fish parts. I expected better from the ALF writer’s room, but I still stan the Equinox Weenies.

— Christian D’Andrea

Best/Worst: Vampire Baseball

Though I’m loathe to admit I’ve read “Twilight,” I would like to make fun of “Twilight,” so here we are. Basically, in the book, a real treat for our heroine was getting to watch Edward and his vampire family play vampire baseball. Wow, sounds fun, they have superhuman abilities I wonder what their sports will be like?!

Get your hopes down, it’s just regular baseball that’s louder. Because they hit the ball so hard. Great date idea Edward, Bella gets to watch your family game of regular baseball. She doesn’t even get to play. I can’t believe she likes Edward more than Jaco— I mean I don’t care, Twilight’s for children.

— Clara Morris

Best: The Running Man

I’m sure there are some prudes out there saying “but Jaaaames, murder isn’t a sport!” To which I would reply “it is the REALEST sport, even when fictionalized.”

The Running Man is unquestionably one of the greatest action movies of all time, which game us the best fictional sport of all time. It’s professional wrestling, with all its pomp and circumstance mixed American Gladiators with a healthy sprinkling of pure, unadulterated murder.

In case you’re not familiar with the plot, the basic concept is simple: Dangerous convicted felons are given a chance to fight for their freedom in gladiatorial battles against armed, themed enforcers on a dystopian game show. It probably says something about me that I like this so much, but here we are.

Worst: Taking the Stone

This is from the show Farscape and is the dumbest thing of all time. Rather than try to explain in my own words let me just share the entry from Wikipedia, which does a great job detailing how dumb this is.

“The game consists of jumping into a deep well, and chanting while falling. A sonic net at the bottom of the well, sustained by the participants’ voices, cushions their fall. When the youth reach the age of 22 cycles, rather than grow old and be deformed by the planet’s radiation, they stop chanting part way into the leap and die against the rocks. This death is called Taking the Stone.”

Jumping into a well. Maybe killing yourself. Bad sport.

— James Dator

Best: Cricket

Or, more specifically, the good Dr. Stephen Maturin’s take on cricket. At the beginning of Patrick O’Brian’s The Fortune of War, what can only be described as the hulk of the HMS Leopard drifts into the Indonesian bay of Pulo Batang. The crew, exhausted by their recent ordeal in the Southern Ocean, relaxes with a game of cricket against that of the HMS Cumberland. Or they try to, before Maturin, equipped with a bizarre, home-made bat, makes his appearance on the behalf of the Leopards.

A rapacious grin ran round the Cumberlands: they moved much closer in, crouching, their huge crab-like hands spread wide. The Admiral held the ball to his nose for a long moment, fixing his adversary, and then delivered a lob that hummed as it flew. Stephen watched its course, danced out to take it as it touched the ground, checked its bounce, dribbled the ball towards the astonished cover-point and running still he scooped it into the hollow of his hurley, raced on with twinkling steps to mid-off, there checked his run amidst the silent stark amazement, flicked the ball into his hand, tossed it high, and with a screech drove it straight at Jack’s wicket, shattering the near stump and sending its upper half into a long, graceful trajectory that reached the ground just as the first of La Flèche’s guns, saluting the flag, echoed across the field.

As far as rebukes towards English pretensions go, deliberate or not, it’s pretty hard to beat Dr. Maturin’s efforts. This is cricket as it really ought to be played: nonsensically and with maximum force.

NB: My favourite part of the above passage, incidentally, is the confusion it created amongst O’Brian’s significant American audience over whether Dr. Maturin was any good at cricket or not.

Worst: Quidditch

Take a perfectly good magical sport, with three goals, multiple balls, rogue and malevolent magical items designed to hurt you, and flying. The bones of quidditch are close to perfect, giving scope for brilliant tactical and individual play in three dimensions.

And then the Golden Snitch ruins it. There’s absolutely no need for the damn thing. The chasers, beaters and keepers are playing an interesting, well-constructed sport. The seekers, meanwhile, are playing a ridiculous version of hide-and-seek which almost inevitably overrides what everyone else on both teams are trying to achieve.

Not only does the hunt for the Snitch render the actually good part of the sport irrelevant, it also destroys quidditch as a spectator sport. Since the Snitch is so small as to be untrackable, the audience in the stands has no idea what’s going on at any given time, making this a sport that’s both nonsensical and impossible to follow.

Kill the Snitch, and then we’ll talk.

— Graham MacAree

Best: Crunchball 3000

Now I know what you’re all thinking. What the hell is CrunchBall 3000. Well it’s a computer game that has LORE.

The game has elements of rugby, soccer and football and is an excellent time waster at wo— I mean it’s a really underrated way to pass the time.

Worst: Quidditch ... but in real life.

*It’s not really the worst, I just wanted to talk about it.*

Don’t get me wrong, IRL quidditch is fun. I’m just mad that the one time I played, I was the seeker and the snitch could go anywhere. We were in a park and there were no boundaries. I stopped chasing them after three minutes. I have asthma, man. I was off it.

— Kofie Yeboah

Best: Calvinball

When I was a kid in my hometown, there were a few boys on my street who were around the same age as me. In the summer, we would all spend our hard earned pop-bottle deposit returns on buying used baseballs at rummage sales and then use them to play in an open field down the road from our houses. Baseball is actually a very loose term for what we played, especially once the ball was lost or the cover tore off. Then it was a free for all. Little did I know until later in my development that such games as those we played were already mastered by the titular characters in Calvin and Hobbes. Calvinball, you see, is a game with no rules, other than the rules you make up as you go along. No two games are allowed to be the same, and no rules made up on the fly are allowed to be duplicated. Throw on some masks, hit a baseball with a mop and go score some points by running seven times around the sprinkler. Wait! The sprinkler is now the loser zone, so you have to use a croquet mallet to hit a tennis ball over the driveway without it touching any dirt or concrete. If it does, you lose 10 points.

“Other kids’ games are all such a bore!

They’ve gotta have rules and they gotta keep score!

Calvinball is better by far!

It’s never the same! It’s always bizarre!

You don’t need a team or a referee!

You know that it’s great, ‘cause it’s named after me!”

As Calvin opined in the final Calvinball strip when a football game turned into one of the crazy contests, “Sooner or later, all our games turn into Calvinball.”

There really isn’t a better sport out there, real or fictional.

Worst: Star Trek’s parrises squares

Let’s keep this portion short and sweet: They never gave any rules to parrises squares on the show, but it clearly is dumb because there is no way the folks who made Star Trek: The Next Generation were able to come up with a cool sport. That’s probably why they didn’t bother showing viewers much of the game, which is played with an “ion mallet” on a padded playing field.

I know no other details. But it’s is clearly dumber than real-life quidditch, which is one of the dumbest things I’ve ever watched in my entire life.

— Sam Eggleston

Best: Rocket League

Video games are murky territory, and I’m not sure if most of them can be classified as fictional sports. Is Counter-Strike a fictional sport, or a simulation of a military operation? I’m not really sure. But Rocket League is unquestionably a game about a fake sport, and it is by far the best fake sport anyone’s ever invented.

Soccer is the most popular sport ever invented by humans. The coolest iteration of soccer ever invented is from Nike’s 3v3 Secret Tournament ad, which was played in a metal cage. Rocket League iterates on this concept further by replacing the human competitors with freaking rocket powered cars. If it was possible to create Rocket League in real life, it would be the world’s most popular spectator sport.

Worst: Professional wrestling

Oh no, I’ve exposed the business! It’s difficult to classify wrestling as a type of sports or entertainment, hence the term “sports entertainment,” but essentially it’s a TV show about a fake sports league. There’s no non-fixed sport that bears a strong resemblance to pro wrestling, so I think it’s fair to classify pro wrestling as a fictional sport.

Wrestling Twitter, don’t scream at me. I am not here to talk shit about the entertainment you love. I’ve watched thousands of hours of pro wrestling and I love it. But as an actual sport, it’s kind of a mess. There are no published rules, and the referees seem utterly incapable of enforcing the ones that broadcasters tell us about. Competitors are not punished for repeatedly assaulting referees. Any sensible sport would have introduced additional referees or an instant replay system after 100 years of consistent shenanigans, but the major pro wrestling organizations simply refuse. No fictional sport has less competitive integrity.

— Kim McCauley

[existentialkendall-blog]

Sharpie Soulmates: Part 2

Pairing: Kickthestickz Wordcount: 2.4k Rating: Light swearing

Plot: Chris visits PJ at University. Based on a prompt that whatever you write on your skin appears on your soulmate. Find the first part here

A/N: Request a fic here, gimme feedback, don’t forget to read the first one. This wasn’t suppose to turn into a thing, but at the rate it’s going I might end up writing a third

After their first meeting, PJ learns that Chris wants to be an actor. PJ tells him that he wants to make short films. They're a perfect team, the artist and his muse. While PJ was in London for an interview, Chris was in the cafe gearing himself up for an audition. 

The meeting in London was a success. Despite the sweaty palms and hair secured over tattooed forehead, he'd spoken clearly, enunciated his ideas, described his plans. Which led to an increase in funding for a project of his choice. Or more than one if he budgets and uses his old friend cardboard.

On the other hand, the audition had not been a success. They'd exchanged phone numbers, so luckily Chris didn't have to write all their negative opinions on PJ's skin.

Along the lines of 'too tall, too nervous, not attractive enough'. PJ had written on his skin for that one, that Chris could not be any hotter, he was breaking the laws of physics as it was. He almost felt like Chris for the cheesiness of that. Around it he'd drawn a large swirling design with a cartoon PJ shooting heart eyes his way at the top.

Chris had replied with a 'thank you', and a 'the auditions will be so much easier now that he can't show his thigh to them'. PJ smirked, 'maybe that's where you were going wrong', and grinned harder at the 'can't be it, I have impressive thighs', because at least Chris was being positive about something.

One night, while writing a second draft of his latest short film script, the word 'Friday?' materialises on his hand. The crudely drawn dick from yesterdays Chris doodles is peeking out from underneath his shirt sleeve and the writing makes a nice addition to the body art.

While PJ still gets daily pick up lines, Chris sometimes graduates from University level cheese to Shakespearean quotes. Which are not always relevant, and usually baffling to read.

He mentally checks his schedule. Friday he has class in the morning and then nothing past midday.

Earlier that morning he'd drawn a skeleton design over Chris's hand so he avoids there, and writes a yes across his wrist in attempted calligraphy.

A short list of times promptly appears, trailing down his arm. PJ writes over the best one, and lets the excitement build. On Friday he'll see his soulmate for the second time.

____

Morning classes suck. Especially when you've made plans as soon as the class ends. Normally PJ would consider himself an enthusiastic person when it came to work, considering it's creative and that's his whole personality. But the droning hours and early morning start made concentration unbearable.

So he reverted back to his hobby.

Doodling.

By the time lunch came he'd drawn a myriad of fantasy creatures on his arm, along with other things that he couldn't remember because he'd spaced out. 

Daydreaming while drawing.

He escapes University and heads straight for the train station. With the time he's making, he makes it there with a couple minutes to spare. He's preoccupied with thoughts about getting actors for his next short, the amount of cardboard he'll need, and the fact that he has a whole weekend with Chris, so he doesn't register that the train is there until there are streams of people pouring out.

PJ bites his lip and taps his foot rhythmically until a floppy haired boy bounds out of the carriage wearing a soft grey coat.

"PEEJ!" He tackles PJ with a suffocating hug and squeezes until he starts protesting.

"What?! I missed you," And fuck if that doesn't cause a flurry of butterflies in his stomach. "Well, we have been talking constantly. So I guess I only missed your face."

"Thanks Chris. Glad to know you're here for the face," Pj says dryly, but he's in agreement with Chris. He'd forgotten how pretty the other boy is.

"Did you miss me, sugar tits?" Chris grins at PJ like he's come up with the cure for any and all diseases. PJ can't help the smile that appears right back at Chris's, overpowering his face until his whole being is radiating with joy, and a nervous excitement that thrums at his bones.

"How could I not?" PJ feels the smile shift so it's growing out the side of his mouth in a sardonic way, and Chris visibly reacts with shock. And pride.

The soulmate syndrome is weird.

"What have you got planned for us today," Chris asks, while shifting his bag around his shoulders and readjusting his coat so it rests on his shoulders.

"Film, pizza, bed?"

"Emphasis on the bed part," Chris nods, eyes narrowing with humour.

"Depends how well the pizza goes."

"You put out on the first date?" Chris assumes his natural position, arm slung around PJ's shoulder and mouth dangerously close to his skin. "I can't wait, planet boy."

PJ blushes at the nickname. Telling him about his channel was possibly a mistake. But then, Chris saw all his short films and animations in a way that felt like he was looking into his soul. And that was worth the teasing nickname. Plus, he'd started drawing wobbly planets and sporadic stars instead of just dicks.

In fact, at the time being, PJ only has a red inked Jupiter on his upper thigh. 

Chris still manages to draw in the most obscure places.

"Peej?" PJ's heart warms at the nickname and the hesitance that taints it.

"Chris?"

"Did you find mine?”

PJ frowns, mind coming to a standstill. Chris is on YouTube? Did he tell him?

Chris reacts to the silence with a loud, "You don't know me? Me, the famous Crabstickz?" His arms open wide to the sky, the announcement of his username is in a Japanese game show host voice.

PJ laughs and shakes his head.

"Why would you want to be called crab sticks?”

"Why would you want to be called kick the PJ?"

"I have a foot fetish."

"A public foot fetish? Can anyone get involved, or just the fans? Is it some weird reverse Stockholm syndrome thing?" Chris makes himself laugh with the last question, and almost walks into a singular sparsely leafed tree. He dodges it narrowly and brushes PJ's arm.

"What about your fetish for seafood. Do you like watching them get made, or is it the watching men eat them that thrills you."

The corner of Chris's mouth turns down as he pretends to contemplate the choices.

"I'd have to say watching women eat them is the way to go. Women make good fish stick eaters."

PJ winces in disgust at his crudeness, and then the answer Chris gave hits him. 

"So... You're bi?"

"You aren't?"

"I guess so," Not that he's kissed a boy before. Hadn't really thought about them as potential dating options, never really looked at one and wanted. Be that as it may, he's not going to tell everyone he's 'Chris-sexual', whatever the fuck that's suppose to mean.

"Wait. This means. You haven't been with a guy before, have you? Does that mean I get to pop your ass cherry?"

"You can fuck off if you think I'm bottoming first."

Chris giggles. His laugh is undefined, it's brimming with childish behaviour. Maybe that's where all the joy escaped to, because PJ is getting better at reading him and he's learning that the humour is a mechanism. 

"You know about positions? You can't be that much of a virgin then."

"I've seen porn," Specifically to research how fucking Chris would work. And yeah, there's no way their first time is involving him getting it in the ass. 

"Well fuck me sideways. You, PJ le kicky, has seen porn? That's a criminals commodity, you're a real rule breaker. I might have to report you to the police."

They're quickly approaching his building and it'll be a while before they can be alone again. There's introductions, re-introductions, talking, making dinner.

"Hey, since we're both youtubers we could become a power couple and take over the site!"

PJ rolls his eyes and pushes Chris's arm so he turns the corner and they're walking down the street to his halls. He palms the keys and takes the lead to unlock the front door.

"We're here!"

_____

Chris is sitting on the floor, legs crossed and fingers playing with a loose black thread on his jeans, when PJ exits the bathroom. His head flicks up when the door closes and he throws the pen next to him at PJ. It hits him square in the chest and falls to the floor.

"What have you done now?" PJ sighs.

"It's a game. You have to find the x to get your prize. You better start stripping." PJ looks down at him, face devoid of emotion. Chris's lopsided grin is focussing all it's attention on him.

"The pizza will get cold," He drops down onto his single bed and takes a slice, biting the perfect pointed end off. The taste of it is drowned out by the weight of Chris's back as he relaxes against his leg that's hanging off the bed.

After wolfing down half the plate full of food, Chris yanks his jumper off so he's left in a long white sleeved shirt and a grey t-shirt over that. At this angle PJ can stare at Chris without the other boy knowing, and he takes advantage of that. 

What his eyes fixate on the most is his neck. He wants to kiss him there, feel his pulse under his tongue, bite softly. Make Chris a whimpering mess from playing with his neck alone.

"Thanks by the way."

"Huh?" PJ replies, snapping back into reality.

Chris pushes away from the bed to look at PJ. "Really?"

"What?"

"Well if you don't remember, I'm not gonna tell you."

Pizza forgotten, PJ looks at Chris with pure confusion. Chris smugly finishes his last slice.

"Tell me."

Chris shakes his head, "I can't. I'd have to show you."

"Show me then."

His hand goes to his white shirt sleeve and he pretends to sexily pull up the piece of clothing, and then stops.

"Nah."

"Chris!"

He pulls the sleeve back down and leans forward so he's on his knees. "Are you gonna eat that?" He asks, reaching for the food residing next to PJ.

PJ isn't finished with the conversation, so he grabs Chris's arm. It's as if he expected it, and he pulls away. PJ tackles him and pulls up the sleeve, pinning Chris down by straddling his waist. Chris is panting softly underneath him.

Drawings. What PJ would call ghosts, creatures, sea monsters. They cover Chris's pale skin. He hasn't seen his penmanship on Chris before. He didn't expect it to be so bold, so bright.

Once he's taken in the colourful drawings, he turns Chris's arm by pulling it up and over his head so it rests back against the floor.

Chris.

Chris with two love hearts, shaded with close lines of the same pen.

The real Chris, the one underneath him, laughs suddenly, and PJ shifts on top of him.

"I can't believe you don't remember doing that!"

"Shut up!" PJ scowls at the smirking boy.

With a twist of his smile, and a dark edge to his eye, Chris murmurs, "Make me."

PJ's eyes go to Chris's mouth.

He ignores the hesitation, the nerves, the caution.

Chris's lips are soft. They part under him with shock and PJ feels heady with the rush of dark heat and warmth. Tentatively he flicks his tongue into his mouth, caressing Chris's. He moans under him with soft mewling noises and his hand tugs on PJ's hair, but not to pull him away, to push him closer.

Chris tilts his head and the position changes, getting infinitely deeper. PJ didn't mean for it to go this far this quickly. Honestly he didn't have anything in mind when the kiss started.

But Chris is gripping his arm on the right side of too tight and PJ feels arousal growing and he's glad it happened like this.

"I underestimated you," Chris breathes when they part. 

PJ licks his bottom lip to reclaim the taste of Chris, conscious of Chris's eyes tracking the movement.

Chris lurches forward to kiss PJ again, but his nose collides with PJ's and they're wincing. He collapses back on the floor, hands automatically covering his face.

"Chris?" PJ leans over him, hands in fists on either side of his face.

Underneath his hands, he shakes his head once, and then removes them. His whole face is scarlet with a beautiful blush.

"You dork."

"Hey! That's my line."

PJ smiles in fondness. The next thing Chris says makes the smile fall instantly.

"Take your shirt off."

"Excuse me?"

Chris realises what he said and laughs, "No, I mean. From earlier. Take it off, you'll see."

"If I recall correctly, from earlier, you have to go first."

Chris mutters "Semantics," Under his breath before stripping. Then he's lying on the floor, arms behind his head in a mock comfy reclining position, staring up at PJ.

Under all the layers of clothing Chris is still as pale and lanky as PJ anticipated. All bones and hot skin, smooth curves and a cocky smirk.

It's funny that he thought kissing Chris for the first time would be the hard part. Like a plaster. Rip it off, take the shirt off.

Still breathing, world still turning.

Chris is staring at his chest in awe. God, he's pretty. His hazel eyes tear themselves away from his chest to his face. Look.

In the peripheral haze he can only see red. Arches of red and curling waves. "Hang on," PJ stands and goes to the bathroom mirror.

Love hearts. Small ones framing a singular large heart, framing the skin over his real heart. And in it, drawn in the same way as the rest of his chest, is a five letter word.

"CHRIS!"

"Babe?" Chris appears in the doorway, arms crossed at his chest as he leans against the doorframe.

"What the fuck?"

"You already have my name tattooed across your soul. Why not make it clear on your heart?"

PJ turns back to his reflection. How does he always end up here?

Chris moves behind him, hands sliding around his waist and pulling him back against Chris's chest.

"We should make a video. Gay chicken."

[wizardofbits]

Sonic Forces. Hoo, boy.

Strap yourselves in, folks, this is gonna be a long one. I have numerous thoughts about Sonic Forces. The latest "modern Sonic" game from Sega to use the "Boost formula", Sonic Forces saw a multiplatform release on November 7, 2017. It features three playable characters: Modern Sonic, Classic Sonic, and a new character called the Avatar, as they work together to stop the evil Dr. Robotnik (fuck you, that's his name) who has already taken over the world, with help from the mysterious Infinite.

Ask a diehard Sonic fan and they might be hard-pressed to find anything good about this game. More likely, they'll probably say "Nothing about this is good, Vector. That's why it's called war." And then laugh at themselves for their oh-so-creative sense of humor, repeating memetic lines from the game. But the game is a good game, just not a great one. It's a step down from Generations and in that respect a bit of a disappointment, but it's not terrible. It's definitely not going to take Sonic soaring to new heights either. Still, I would much rather play Sonic Forces than play a long list of Sonic games. Sonic the Hedgehog (2006), Shadow the Hedgehog, Sonic Heroes, Sonic Unleashed, Sonic Adventure 2 (yeah I went there)... The real problems with the game break down as follows.

The Levels Are Too Fucking Short

The average Modern Sonic or Avatar level is about as long as Metal Harbor from Sonic Adventure 2. That was a... really short level, in a game that had too little Sonic-gameplay content as it was. But while that was just one level, the entire game is like this in the case of Sonic Forces. Classic Sonic levels are, maybe, about the size of an act from Sonic 1. The thing is, we're used to bigger stages than this. In Sonic Forces, you reach a point where you're finding a groove through a level and having a good time, and then whoops! It's over. The game makes up for it somewhat by packing in a lot of stages (30 to be precise), but I'd rather have 12 memorable stages than 30 forgettable ones.

The Level Assets R Bored ._.

One of the really remarkable things about early Sonic games is what vaporwave kids call A E S T H E T I C S. Early Sonic was aesthetic as FUCK, borrowing cues from the trends in the late 1980s and very early 1990s in graphic design, and especially, old-school CG. If you've ever seen the old Mind's Eye videos and things of that nature, you know exactly where those polygonal palm trees and Escher-esque birds and fish come from. This sort of eye for detail made the early games absolutely beautiful to look at, with the levels boasting streamlined curves and maze-like layouts, bursting with color and exhibiting harmonious balance that was pleasing to the eye. Even the backgrounds were gorgeous -- who could forget Green Hill's shimmering seaside, with mountainous islands and white puffy clouds in the background, or the steel industrial towers rising into the sky in Oil Ocean from Sonic 2, with a heat wave effect around the searing sun above?

What do we get in Sonic Forces? A bunch of boring, rectilinear bullshit, that's what. In fact, the Green Hill stages (way to come up with new locations, guys) just have different-sized checkerboard boxes in the background. Sure, there are some ramps and slopes in the level itself, but they're either straight or just use the same few curves over and over. It's not quite Sonic Boom: Rise of Lyric bad, but it's not very good. Also, the same gimmicks are used over and over, level after level, and most of them were taken from Sonic Colors, the first game to feature all-Boost gameplay. Jesus Christ, there's a level called Chemical Plant but it doesn't use the Chemical Plant assets aside from some of the glass tube ramps carrying blue liquid. The elevators, in particular, are samey rectangles instead of the unique Chemical Plant lifts. It's not quite as bad as the bland, depressing, rushed aesthetics of, say, Shadow the Hedgehog, but Sonic Mania and Sonic Generations set our standards higher, with mind-blowingly creative takes on old and new locations.

And the level layout doesn't make any sense because it's not themed to the stage. It's just the same boring shit as every other level. Take Casino Forest, for example. If you remember Casino Night Zone from Sonic 2, you will recall that the entire level was laid out like a giant pinball machine. The slopes and curves seemed to funnel Sonic into the slots when he came across them. Sonic Forces, no such luck. It's pretty much "let's use the same rectilinear corridors and rooms we use for every other level, throw in a couple of ramps -- oh shit, this is a casino level isn't it? Well, we'll throw in some bumpers and slots here and there. Done!" Oh yeah, there's the fact that you can't steer Sonic into the slots very well because you don't have the same level of precision and control. Which brings us to...

The Physics Are Glitchy

Modern Sonic controls like ass. So does the Avatar. They either don't move when I want them to move, or shoot off in a direction I didn't want to go in. Their acceleration curves on the ground are janky as fuck, and when they jump you have to wrestle with the control stick to get them to go where you want them to go. And Classic Sonic isn't much better. He feels "sticky", like he doesn't really want to move when you hit a boost pad, spin dash, or roll. To be fair, none of these are too bad. They don't make the game play like Bubsy, or Sonic '06 or anything. It's just... when old-school Sonic physics is coded into your muscle memory, it can be hard to get used to these foibles in the game's physics and tune your stick and button responses to them.

My biggest complaint is that, particularly in one late-game level, the road curves ahead of you, and with no guardrails to keep you on track, if you aren't holding right hard as you dash along this stretch of track, you will crater to your death. But then there's another stretch of track where the game dynamically adjusts your trajectory to keep you on the track as long as you hold Up, so if you take what you've learned from the previous stretch of track and try to turn Sonic into the curve, you will again fall to your death. That's probably the biggest fuck-you in the game, but it's just in that one level as far as I can tell, and overall the game has a much lower cheap-death count than Adventure 2, Heroes, or Shadow -- let alone '06. (Fuck you, '06 and fuck the fans who say it's good or it can be made good. It's broken.)

The Boss Battles Suck

So Infinite, supposedly, is more powerful than Sonic. Shouldn't that be reflected in, you know, the boss fights against him? Instead we get two boring, relatively easy fights against him where all you have to do is dodge his straightforward attacks and mash the jump button when he's in range. Sonic games used to be known for neat boss fights. There was one at the end of each zone, and each one was based around Robotnik in his egg vehicle, but they all featured different weapons and upgrades to the vehicle, and thus different attack patterns and vulnerabilities. Later games would bring midbosses at the end of each zone's first act. This formula would be abandoned for the Sonic Adventure series, and I really wish it'd come back. But even then, Sonic Adventure 2 had a variety of interesting bosses, even if they weren't all Robotnik.

Things went really off the rails with Sonic Heroes, which had boring, samey bosses up until the last one or two, and this seems to be the pattern Sega feels comfortable in now. Which is fine, except no, it's not, it sucks actually. And it's particularly galling because this is the game where Robotnik finally takes over the world. It should be fraught with peril and danger for our heroes, and they should have to square off against terrifying robots and creations the likes of which the world has never seen before. But no, it's run down a corridor, hit the guy a few times, dodge his telegraphed attacks and fucking repeat until dead. This is even true of the final boss, which is just a ripoff of the final boss from Sonic Colors. That one was fun the first time, but come on. Even Sonic and the Secret Rings had an imaginative final boss.

Oh, another annoying thing: there are encounters which look like boss fights because they feature huge enemies that must be defeated, such as the giant snake from Luminous Forest or the giant crab thing from that one Avatar level with the giant crab thing in it. But you've been trolled because a couple of quick time events later and you fucking beat it. Jesus Christ, Sega.

So those are the bad points of this game. Here are some good points:

Your Name, the Hedgehog

I like the Avatar. More than I expected to. Full background: the Avatar is a custom character created using the in-game character creation facility. The character creation tool is very basic, allowing you to pick from among seven species, two genders, and a variety of head and eye shapes and base skin and fur colors, but that's it. Then again, it's still about as wide a range as the imagination of a typical Sonic fan can muster. Completing missions allows you to unlock accessories to decorate your OC with -- but aside from the Wispon (a gun powered by colored Wisp energy which grants one attack ability and one sub-ability) these do not affect gameplay at all. In fact the only variables that do affect gameplay are species (each species grants a different, specific perk; for example birds can double-jump and cats can hold onto one ring when they get hit) and equipped Wispon.

Adding the Avatar was a brilliant marketing move by Sega. They know what's up. They knew that diehard fans would piss themselves at being able to make their fursona canon in a Sonic game; and ironic hipsters would attempt to recreate Coldsteel or Sonichu in the character editor. Sega also resisted the temptation to decide for us that what we really need is another, vastly different, playstyle from the go-fast modern Sonic style we've gotten used to by now. Accordingly, Avatar levels are Boost levels with a different moveset. You can homing-attack enemies and swing from grapple points with your grappling hook, use your Wispon to clear out groups of enemies, or collect Wisps of the appropriate color to enable an otherwise inaccessible form of locomotion -- like launching yourself into the air with the Burst Wispon or doing a light-dash along rings with the Lightning Wispon. They're not as zippy as the Boost levels, but hey, there can only be one Sonic. Some levels let you play as Sonic and the Avatar together, successfully merging the gameplay of the two characters by putting Sonic in the lead when you press the Boost button and the Avatar in the lead when you attempt to grapple or use Wispon attacks. It's quite seamless, even less clunky than Sonic Heroes, and I love it. They could make a whole game out of this style of play. There are moments when Sonic and Avatar together do a "Double Boost", plowing through enemies and sweeping up rings at hyper speed, but these sections last about ten seconds apiece, in keeping with the game's general theme of frustrating shortness.

Finally, the Avatar is perfectly integrated into the game's cutscenes, giving them a critical role in the unfolding story.

Plot and Theming

So the plot goes like this: with the power of Infinite and the Phantom Ruby (that weird rock he dug up in Sonic Mania), Dr. Robotnik has succeeded in defeating Sonic and taking over the world. A band of rebels called the Resistance -- led by Knuckles and bearing quite a few parallels with Princess Sally's Freedom Fighters from Sonic the Hedgehog (TV series), aka "SatAM" -- seeks to track Sonic down, wherever he's being held, and retake the world. In Sonic's absence, a new hero (your Avatar), a survivor from one of Infinite's assaults on the population, steps in to help the resistance.

Meanwhile, "Tails", presumably wracked with guilt after Sonic's capture, re-connects with Classic Sonic (the version of him from Mania) and the two eventually lend their help to resisting Robotnik as well.

It's a fairly basic plot. It goes back to some dark themes -- like war and torture -- that we really haven't seen in a main-series Sonic game since Shadow. But there's no self-conscious attempt to be grimdark and edgy, no characters brooding about their past, no "damn fourth Chaos Emerald", and no human-hedgehog shipping. Everything is, still, pretty lighthearted and fun. Which gets pretty weird when you're told Sonic has been "tortured for months" aboard the Death Egg, and yet all he says to his torturers are the usual lighthearted, sarcastic quips. But what the hell. He's a blue cartoon hedgehog. This idea of cartoon animals in a war-torn world reminds me of nothing so much as the North Korean propaganda cartoon, Squirrel and Hedgehog, which even Western viewers admit has a sort of bizarre charm about it -- and that's where Sonic Forces is. Although not with the anti-Western propaganda of a repressive dictatorship.

I like how each of Sonic's friends has a specific role in the resistance: Knuckles is the leader, Silver the second in command, Amy the data analyst, Shadow and Rouge are the recon agents. "Tails" has gone underground to conduct his own search for Sonic. Sonic's cast has grown quite a bit in the past few years, and it's good that they found something for all these characters to do without burdening the story with needless exposition or a surfeit of unnecessary "gameplay styles".

Another thing I like is that they managed to keep Sonic's sarcastic "attitude" without making him a jerk. Looking back on 90s Sonic media, it's noteworthy how Sonic is an asshole even to his friends, and gets away with it because he's the hero. In "SatAM" and the Archie comics, for instance, he never passes up an opportunity to make fun of Antoine. In the British "Sonic the Comic", he's constantly mocking "Tails". In this game, Sonic manages to save his jokes at others' expense for his actual enemies and is quite charitable to his friends (especially "Tails" and the Avatar). At multiple points in the game, upon hearing a report of impending defeat from Resistance fighters, he says something like "You've done more than enough already. Good work, everyone! I'll handle it from here."

That's another thing: they actually found a use for in-game quips from the main character. Rather than Bubsying it up and having him say "there's a bounce pad!" or "I love rings!" every time some game event is triggered, Sonic Forces does a fair bit of story exposition with Star Fox-like radio chatter from the main characters before and during the game's stages, as well as cutscenes. The chatter can be turned off at the player's discretion, but I don't find it too distracting, and some of Sonic's lines are genuinely funny.

If there's anything wrong with the plot, it's that sometimes they seem to raise the stakes, but don't follow through and the situation is resolved in like a minute. Sonic is thought dead in the early game, but a couple of stages later, he's alive. Worse, there's a scene where Robotnik banishes Sonic and Avatar to "Null Space". Ten seconds later, they're back out on the street.

Boost Gameplay

The Boost levels are the most fun ones in the game. When you're barreling down the track at a zillion miles per hour, you don't notice the odd bit of minor physics glitch (except when it sends you clean off the track; I'm looking at you, Metropolitan Highway...). They didn't keep up the standards set by Generations, but they didn't kill all the fun in the game, especially the Boost bits, either.

But that just provokes the question: why didn't they keep up the standards set by Generations? I liked this game a fair bit, but I wanted to like it a lot more. Hell, I want to like every Sonic game as much as I like 2, 3, and & Knuckles. But this is where we are. Sonic has just gone from consistently good, to consistently bad, to just plain inconsistent. Why can't he just stay good?

The problem with Sonic is, I believe, a problem with Sega. It ties back into what I said about the franchise in the past: Sega just doesn't understand which values the Sonic brand represents, from a gameplay perspective. They use him as a media icon, but they have no vision of what the player should expect when they boot up a Sonic game. Hell, the players have a better idea than Sega does, which is why an effective fan game (Sonic Mania) got the highest praise the main series has seen in literally decades!

But here's the thing, Sonic fans: It's easy for you to say that a particular game is bad, and even -- as I've done here -- point out what's bad about it. It's much, much harder for a game developer to find and fix those bad things. Say "the physics are too glitchy", or "the jumps are too floaty" to a game dev, and you may was well say "tighten up the graphics on level 3". Take jumping for instance. There are quite a few variables that go into a game character's jump. A jump can be modelled as an impulse that sends a character's velocity upward followed by acceleration back downward due to gravity. But how big should the impulse be? How quickly should they accelerate back to earth? Do you want to have jump aftertouch (changing directions in midair)? How much aftertouch? What should happen when you jump off a slope? Should the impulse still be straight up, or should it be perpendicular to the slope? (Classic Sonic went with the latter; Sonic Rush went with the former. And now to this day I still can't take Sonic Rush seriously as a platformer in the classic vein.)

Getting games right is hard. Hell, getting slopes right is a test of mettle for any 2D game programmer. What needs to happen is the developers, once they have the basic engine put together, need to sit down and test and tweak, and test some more and tweak some more. Because that's what it takes to make a game "feel" right. And what they found out as they made these tweaks needs to be noted for future developers; it needs to become institutional knowledge.

The big difference between Nintendo and Sega is one of institutional knowledge. Quick, who do you think of when I say "Mario"? Well, Mario himself, but who in real life? Shigeru Miyamoto, right? Gaming's Walt Disney. What if I told you that Miyamoto, who had been producer or director on most Mario titles to date, only had a light touch on Super Mario Odyssey? And Super Mario Odyssey is the best damn Mario game to date! That's because the info on what makes a Mario game good and how to make a good Mario game has become institutional knowledge at Nintendo, passed from employee to employee and generation to generation. It is the ultimate mark of success of any genius that they eventually make themself obsolete, so that their successors can benefit from their knowledge without them when they die, retire, or quit. And Shigsy is coming up on retirement age...

Sega, er, didn't bother preserving that institutional knowledge from the first few Sonic games. And today, the end result is like they forgot it. It's like retrograde amnesia. While playing through Sonic Forces, I was reminded of nothing so much as early, 1980s Sega platformers, like Alex Kidd and the Wonder Boy series. In fact I have the modern remake of Wonder Boy III on my Switch, and the janky movement and floaty jumps from Forces all feel specifically familiar to what I remember from that game. But back in the 80s, you could sort of give them the benefit of the doubt. Nintendo basically invented the modern video-game-character jump with Super Mario Bros., and they weren't exactly forthcoming with that information back then because it was a competitive advantage for them, so other game houses had to either figure out on their own what made the Mario jumps so satisfying to use (Capcom), or else do without them and use a lesser mechanic (Konami, Sega).

But here's the thing: when Sega set about creating a better Mario in the early 90s, they succeeded. Sonic was everything Mario was at the time, and more. But in the early 90s, Sonic Team wasn't really a thing. It was just whoever had worked on Sonic 1. There wasn't a Miyamoto at the helm to set the standards and guide the trajectory for the series as a whole. Yuji Naka doesn't count, and neither does Naoto Ohshima. Later games would be passed from team to team, and while the basic engine remained the same, high-level knowledge of what went into that engine may have been lost along the way -- I'd say the best candidate for such a loss was the "Sonic Winter" of the late 90s, when Sega would go a whole console generation without developing a current-gen, native main-series Sonic title. (Sonic 3D Blast was a Genesis port, and the only other games in the franchise for the Saturn were Sonic R and Sonic Jam.) It was a time of tremendous upheaval for Sega, as they had to recover from the setbacks they suffered from the botched Sega CD and 32X launches, and the failure of the Saturn against the PlayStation and N64. This was also the time when Sonic fandom began to coalesce, and to be frank, the fandom which eventually formed couldn't give two shits about gameplay. So by the time the Adventure series appeared on the Dreamcast, already you could see a break in continuity of vision for where the series was going from a gameplay perspective. Bereft of the franchise's moorings, Sonic Team endlessly tried new things, wanted you to try new things, wanted you to like their experiments. But ultimately what they were trying to do was catch lightning in a bottle, and they failed at it. That's why I call the series "tryhard".

If I were the head of Sonic Team, I would instruct my subordinates to do what the fans already did: go back to the original Genesis games. If I can't find the original source code, I'd have them disassemble and reverse-engineer the ROMs. (That is what the fans did!) Part of the problem with updating OG Sonic physics for today may be that the original games were 2D and pixel-accurate, and largely used integer math to calculate the game state, whereas a modern 3D world would be built from floating-point coordinates in 3D space. Nevertheless, I would try to map the integer constants of Sonic's 2D world into 3D space, fit acceleration curves to what's observable from the 2D games, etc. I would have a model of Green Hill Zone Act 1, or a part of it, built in the 3D engine, and if Sonic does not control exactly as he does in the original Sonic 1, I would order more refinements to be made. This can be checked both through play-testing and by running side-by-side versions of original Sonic 1 and the modern engine, sending them synthetic button events, and seeing whether they match up. Once they do match up, only then would I add modern features like the boost, homing attack, etc.

I would have the programmers take careful notes on the refinements they made, and instruct them to put these notes into a company- or team-wide wiki. I would have them bring in their sons, daughters, or little siblings to play-test it. I would reach out to Sonic fans and select candidates for a limited beta test from among their number.

It's going to take effort and commitment for Sega to rescue Sonic from the scrappy heap. What Sonic Forces showed me is that Sega is not ready to make that commitment. It may be time for them to cut Sonic loose, to sell him to Nintendo or WayForward or somebody. I don't think they'll do that, though, because Sonic is the thing that's keeping their name in the limelight.