#so it just left a gross tiny outline around the shape

[moonsidesong]

i think its kinda funny that ibis paint is regarded as the Broke Artist App or whatever (as opposed to more mainstream programs like csp or procreate) because its free and because of how popular it is with phone + finger artists while im jusg sitting here having used ibis for a cool eight years on purpose.

like i have an ipad and an apple pencil and all theyre very nice and i absolutely could move to a more powerful program i have the resources to do so but my change averse brain has decided they like it here a lot and im not leaving

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Space Orcs, “Workout.”

Forgive me for being short today, But I have a Russian test in less than an hour, and it is on numbers which is the most excruciating part of this language lol.

Hope you all have a good day :)

The human pulled to a stop huffing and puffing, hands on his knees as he took in great big breaths. Krill could see ribs through his skin as the great bellows expanded and then contracted. Sweat slicked the skin as the body desperately tried to cool itself.

“Heart rate 165.”

The human straightened himself out coughing once or twice to clear his throat, reaching out and wiping his face with a towel.

He threw the towel over one shoulder and stretched the large muscle groups in his chest, stomach and back pulling tight.

Sunny leaned against the wall just to their right both sets of arms crossed over her chest, “So, what is this supposed to be fore. Is this like a dominance thing or something.”

The human wiped his face again and raised an eyebrow, “IT’s exercises,  Sunny. You know so I can be fit enough to pass the UNSC PT exam, or perhaps so that I can do my job better, or maybe because I look better whenI’m more fit.

Sunny turned her head to look at him, her eyes scrunching down a little as Krill went to take notes on a clipboard.

“You mean…. You didn’t just grow to being that size?’

The human glanced down at Krill incredulous, “IS she serious? Do the Drev like, not have to work out?”

Krill shook his head, “Drev do not have subcutaneous fat deposits like humans do. Any acquired deposits are stored below the carapace between the connective tissue, padding them down and giving them more protection.”

Sunny looked between them in confusion, “Wait, hold on…. I’m confused.”

The human towelled off his hair, “I have to work out to look like this sunny. IF i don’t use it, I lose it.”

She turned to look at Krill.

He tucked the holo-pad under one arm, “You see, Sunny. Humans are meant to adapt. They can adapt mentally, and they can adapt physically. The body changes to match the requirements of its environment. Sometimes this takes years to do, for instance if you take a light skinned population of humans and put them somewhere with a lot of sun, and keep that population in complete isolation, after a few generations, the skin will darken to compensate for the increased UV light. However these things happen on a smaller level. The body fluctuates to adapt to the amount of physical work which is required.”

The human nodded, “Exactly. Running strengthens the heart, and it increases the hemoglobin in my blood, so that I can run for a longer time with more oxygen. If I were to stop running, I would loose all of that and have to work back up.”

Sunny stared at him incredulous, “So, you have to force your body to be able to perform correctly. Like, It can’t just DO what it needs to do, but you have to convince it over years of training to be able to do what you want.”

The man shrugged, “Well anything sucks when you phrase it like that.” He turned and motioned them to follow, “Historically, humanity was evolved in an environment with little food. We ate a diet heavy in proteins, fiber, and natural carbs from fruit. Fat is an essential part of a human’s diet, but it is relatively difficult to find in nature because of this, the body adapted to make humans love and crave fatty and sugary foods for energy. Well since well into the twentieth eighteenth century, fatty foods were becoming commonplace, and easy to get our hands on, but the body wasn’t aware of that, so it continued to treat these new fatty foods the way our bodies would have treated them back when we were hunter/gatherers storing every last bit up for use later.”

Sunny followed after in fascination, “I see, so now you have…. Too much of a food that your body craves.”

The human looked over his shoulder, “You got it, and the body doesn’t know when to stop storing fat. It’ll just keep going. So if I were to sit on my ass all day eating chips, I would lose the muscle and I would get bigger as fat deposits were stored up for energy.”

Sunny shrugged, “What is the problem with that?”

The human tapped his chin lightly, “A few things, I guess. For me, at least, if I were to just stop working out, I wouldn’t be able to do my job as well, I wouldn't be able to run as far, or to jump as high, or to lift as much. And lifting myself up in a pullup would be impossible, and considering the amount of times we have all almost fallen off a cliff or had to haul ourselves up rope, you would think that would be a bad idea. Not to mention that the larger you are the harder your heart has to work as the blood supply is forced to expand, and since you aren't working out your heart it gets weaker but has to do more work, which --in turn-- increased the risk of heart issues. Compounding all that I wouldn't be able to sit in a cockpit or pilot a jet properly.”

Sunny shook her head, “That seems like a very… annoying model. You can never just relax. You always have to work to keep your body where it should be. And the amount of self control you have to have….”

The human laughed, “You have no idea how much self control  I need when a box of doughnuts gets in my way.” He sighed, “Keeping my abs as been a real struggle, but the UNSC drilled some self discipline into me when I was still young.”

“So you weren't always this big.”

The human snorted, “no not in the slightest. In fact, I was so skinny, you could see my heart beating through my rib cage.

Sunny grimaced.

“Yeah I know, kinda gross. Those are your two directions. If you don’t work out your either super scary skinny, or you get a bit big. If you’re working out right you get muscles.” He turned around flexing proudly for them to outline the lines of his biceps, chest and stomach.

Sunny would have rolled her eyes back into her head, but she supposed, now that she knew he had to work for it, she was at least somewhat proud of him.

“Ok, I have a question  then.”

“Shoot.”

“Can you get bigger?”

More laughter, “Oh yeah, totally, but I’m not THAT dedicated.”

They were just coming around a corner when the commander skidded to a halt eye to chest with an absolutely massive human.

Even sunny stepped back in surprise.

This human was large enough to look sunny in the eye, with shoulders about as wide as her, and a chest that looked like it could have benched a small car.

It was almost comical, a moment ago Sunny had assumed that the commander was a large human.

“Wow there big mean. I’’d rather not get steamrolled today, thanks.”

The large human glanced down at the commander.

“Sir.” He grunted before stepping around and walking up the hall.

Sunny watched him go, “What do you have to do to get that big!”

“You practically have to live at the gym.”

They turned the corner walking into a large room, with strange machines of unknown use.

ANd in here there were humans of all sizes and shapes, but most of them absolutely massive. Those who lacked height, did not lack muscle.

Male humans, female humans, all of the above.

A tiny female human stood at one of these machines carrying a bar on her shoulders with enough weight that sunny assumed it might crush her. Instead she squatted down to the floor and stood back up.

The captain blinked, “Holy shit.” He motioned towards her, “She squats more than me by the way. You see these guys are insane. I work out to maintain, these guys do it because its their hobby.”

Krill floated upwards to whisper in sunny’s ear, “For the muscle to enlarge, the fibers must tear open, and then the body comes back and repairs the tear to withstand the pressures that tore it in the first place.

Sunny stared at Krill incredulously, “So you're telling me, they just…. Tear themselves apart to get like that.”

The Commander left them standing in place walking over to the wall and jumping upwards, catching his hands around a black bar welded to the wall, the muscles in his back, just below the shoulder blades flexed as he pulled himself upwards, the muscles in his shoulder blades rolling under the skin.

They continued to watch as the commander did his set, a little bit of everything for demonstration purposes. Getting off one of the leg machines, one of these large female humans walked past sitting where he had just sat reaching out pulling out the peg and and bringing the weight almost to the bottom of the plates.

The commander leaned in, “See her, she could probably crush your skull using just her legs.” He sighed, “Man, I only WISH I could be that  badass.” He looked up at sunny, “Sometimes I come here just to knock myself down a peg.”

Across the room, one of these massive humans was hauling a huge bar lined with weight on either side up over his head like it was nothing.

“You see that, that would probably invert my spine if I tried to do it.” “Must you be so graphic?” Krill wondered 

“Yeah, because that’s how much of a wuss I am.”

Looking around, Sunny wasn’t convinced entirely of his status as a wuss. He had all the requisite muscle groups of, even the largest humans, and more than some. There were great swatches of the human population who,even here, were missing some things. 

A few of the humans had large arms, ut small legs, small legs, but large arms, no chest, or  chest and no abdominal muscles.

Yes sure, he may have been smaller than their largest, but he WAS well rounded arms, chest, stomach, legs, back and shoulders.

She found herself surprised at the smug satisfaction in comparing her human to the other humans.

Sure her human couldn’t bench THAT much, but he also had better legs, so there.

“You ok, Sunny?”

She turned her head to look at him.

“Just thinking.” She said 

He shrugged at her and returned to his work. 

It’s hard to be a human.

They have to work for everything they have, especially when it comes to their body. 

[mlepclaynos99]

💛 Family (Christmas Morning) 💛

The last chapter to the 12 Days of Peraltiago I’ve been writing!

Summary: It's Christmas morning at the Peralta-Santiago household!

Read on AO3

Or

Amy had the best memories of Christmas morning; waking up to the smell of her mother’s cooking, the excitement to open up presents that would have her up earlier than ever, rushing to wish her parents a Merry Christmas before trying to sneak a present, betting with her brothers on who could finish breakfast the fastest, and then the opening of presents that every kid looked forward to. She would remember Christmases where she would sit in her dad’s lap waiting for him to figure out how to assemble the elaborate dollhouse she had gotten as a gift and the other times she spent running around the house to stop her brothers from taking her presents to tease her, only do the same to them. But what she remembered the most was among the chaos of 8 children running around on Christmas morning, her parents always made sure that as the morning mayhem was over, they would pack themselves in their living room, and everyone would sit around, keeping their new toys aside for some time, playing games and singing together.

Jake on the other hand, had no holiday memories; his only excitement during the season was for winter break from school which meant no homework, he could stay up all late watching all his favourite movies and TV shows, and eating ice cream or anything else he whenever he wanted. The first few years he had tried to remember what his parents would do for the holidays only for nothing to come up in mind, perhaps because his parents were constantly arguing and if there were any happy moments, he had shoved them so far back in his mind with the horrible ones. All he remembered about the holidays was his mom leaving super early and telling him to wake up only for him to never listen to her, and the same amount of money she would always leave for him to order his favourite pizza for dinner. Christmas morning was like any other morning for him; just him all alone at home letting the time pass until he fell asleep on the couch. The one faint memory that made him smile was the brief moment he would wake up in the middle of the night to feel a blanket being put over him and his mom’s whispered good night before she kissed his forehead.

Now they had had their own family and their own Christmas mornings.

The Peralta-Santiago Christmas morning always started off with Jake being the first one up as he let Amy sleep in just long enough for him to brew her the cup of coffee she needed every morning. Jake was never an early riser, but having kids changes how you sleep, in that now he and Amy got to sleep when the kids slept. But Christmas morning was the exception he always made for his wife and kids.

He always heard Amy’s reminiscent stories about how she loved waking up the smells of cinnamon and sugar, that made her want to run to the kitchen, and he knew it wasn’t the smells of Cinnamon Toast Crunch he would eat on Christmas morning that she was talking about. Jake knew he wasn’t a great cook, but he also knew he wished his kids would one day grow up and tell happy stories about Christmas – that when they thought of dad on Christmas, it would bring a smile to their face, not a sadness.

So dutifully, he would plug in the fancy earbuds Amy had bought him as a gift two years ago (even after they promised no big gifts in preparing for their daughter’s arrival) and began making breakfast for his family. Jamming out to Taylor Swift, he rolled up the sleeves of his reindeer pajama tops to make the pancakes his wife and kids loved. Diligently working in the kitchen, he didn’t notice when Amy had walked into the kitchen.

She had woken up to an empty bedside and today was the only time she didn’t mind, knowing there was a steaming hot cup of coffee waiting for her in the kitchen along with her husband (who she would describe just like that coffee). Arms wrapped around herself to keep from the cold as she watched Jake busy at work, using the same focus he used when he was at work to place cinnamon rolls made by his best friend into the oven, which she knew was because she had made a passing comment about loving them. Walking up to him as he turned back to his pancakes, he looked around their kitchen and understanding exactly what he was looking for – which being married for 7 year does – she picked up the cookie cutters off the dish rack. Wrapping her arms around him, stopping him in his search with a smile, she held the two metal objects in front of him.

“Snowman for Bella and gingerbread man for Mac.”

Turning to face after taking the cookie cutters, Jake found himself engulfed in his sleepy wife’s arms and he wished he could have stayed there for the entire day as she leaned in to kiss him.

“Merry Christmas sweetheart.” He mumbled into the top of her while she rested her head on his chest, their fronts meeting so he could put his arms around her.

“Merry Christmas babe.��� She placed her lips against his neck, holding him tight knowing this was moment of peace before their kids woke up and there chaotic Christmas cheer in their home.

Finally parting back from him when a yawned escaped her, Amy leaned against the counter, watching Jake chuckling in his own amusement as he poured chocolate chip pancake batter filling the outlines of the cookie cutter on the pan, making breakfast in festive shapes for his kids. He really was one of those dads and it took everything in her power to not pull his cheeks, realizing he was above and beyond what either of their dads every did. Seeing him yawn, she forwarded her mug towards him, which he absentmindedly sipped from too busy with his pan. Amy wasn’t lying when she later told their kids it looked like he would once again being fed the gross jellybean flavours from their BeanBoozled game. Quickly apologizing as she bit her tongue to hold back her laugh, she fixed him his type of coffee as he started making pancakes for her sans chocolate chips.

As he set up their breakfast table, Amy knew she had to double check she had put all the presents under the tree and all the stockings were completely stuffed. Doing her part in the living room, she picked up the cookies and milk the kids had left out for Santa and moved the coffee table aside knowing they needed the space for the kids to open their presents. Bringing out the Christmas themed throws and placing them on their couch, she looked around the house satisfied as Jake pulled out the cinnamon rolls, letting the fragrance of the spice fill their home. Only able to kiss his cheek as a thank you for bringing a piece of childhood into her Christmas morning, she felt his arm linking into hers as he proudly smiled on.

Walking into their son’s room, they found it empty and look at each other with worried looks before they heard giggles from the room next door belonging to their daughter. Shaking their heads, they walked into Bella’s room finding their two-year-old and five-year-old talking amongst themselves as if hiding a big secret. Clearing his throat, the two kids looked at them like they had been caught hiding cookies Bella’s dresser again but relaxed as Jake brought out his deep Santa voice.

“Merry Christmas children!”

Separating themselves as the kids squeals jumping off the bed, Jake immediately kneeled down and had his arms opened for them to fill. Almost knocking the wind out of him as the two kids jumped to give him hugs, yelling Merry Christmas, Amy kneeled down in laughter as the kids turned to her.

“Merry Christmas Macaroon!” She kissed the top of Mac’s head as he yelled Merry Christmas, clearly this being his favourite day after his birthday.

“Merry Christmas Bella!” She repeated the same with their daughter who had not inherited the same energy levels as Jake, rather was more like her mother and softly kissed Amy’s cheek before she wished her with an equally soft voice.

“Mewry Chwistmas mommy!”

“What about dad?” Jake sat cross legged on the floor with now empty arms and a pout on his face that made Amy remember she had three kids at times.

“You already got hugs!” And sometimes, she joined in the childish behaviour, especially when it came to getting their children’s attention.

Bella rushed back to Jake’s arms, casually sitting on his lap and putting her arms around his neck as he grinned proudly at Amy.

“I’m her favourite!”

“Mom’s my favourite!” Mac spoke up before Amy had the chance to say anything and Jake looked on offended as it was Amy’s turned to proudly smile while squeezing their son in a tight hug.

As the children laughed about their parents being silly again, Amy suddenly remembered how they all ended up in the same room and turned to the kids, knowing very well they were up to something.

“So what were you munchkins doing?”

As if it was a cue that set them off, Mac and Bella ran back to her bed. Getting off the floor slower than their kids, Jake and Amy shared a look wondering what was going on, a knowingly look that they were about experience the joys of being a parent or the not so fun side of parenting.

For the first time, they watched both their children shyly shuffling their feet and keeping their eyes lowered as they forwarded a folded paper to them, Mac nudging his baby sister to say “Merry Christmas” with him. Accepting what they realized was a card, they sat down on the tiny toddler bed, Bella once again climbing onto Jake’s lap. Amy opened the card revealing Mac’s kindergarten writing spelling out happy holidays and stick figure drawings of the four of them. He definitely had Jake’s writing and artistic abilities, but what made the parents smile prouder than they had been earlier was the scribbled “from Mac and Bela”, their daughter’s misspelled name written in a pen Mac had clearly picked up earlier this morning. They both knew this was probably a school craft Mac had made before the holidays, but his thoughtful gesture of helping his sister scribble her name onto it made it all the more special.

“This might be the best present we’ve ever gotten, don’t you think?” Amy looked at Jake while the brother and sister hi-fived at their success.

“Definitely! It’s best present from the best children.” Sandwiching their kids into a hug, Jake looked up at Amy both wanting to tell the other about amazing their kids were. Carefully closing the card, Amy knew it was going to go up on the fridge and in a special box in her closet after the new year.

“Now pancakes are getting cold! No one want breakfast today?” Jake picked Bella up as she clapped her hands in excitement, watching Mac run out of the room knowing exactly what was waiting on the breakfast table.

Less than an hour later, the kitchen was full of empty dishes and fireplace held into empty stockings. Amy had taken up cleaning the kitchen while Jake made sure the kids would be bathed and ready for opening their big presents. They must have really worked out their timing in the last two years as Amy had just taken a seat on the couch when she heard her three favourite people running out of the rooms ready for presents.

Before they knew it, there was wrapping paper all over the place, the kids had been laughing as they uncovered all the gifts they had gotten. Mac was jumping in front of Amy, asking her to show him how his remote-controlled robot toy worked while Bella was once again seated Jake’s lap, patiently watching him assemble her new activity table asking questions about every part he was adding on and then removing when he misread the instructions.

Looking eyes from across the room, Jake and Amy shared a serene smile. It was perfect & the day had just begun.

A short while later

As candy canes lay on the coffee table, a display of tiny gingerbread houses along their kitchen island, Jake & Amy heard their children singing along to Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. The bright lights reflected the ribbons, bows, and wrapping paper all over the living room carpet, which they walked past to stand under the mistletoe placed in the corner by their framed holiday cards to sneak a moment away from the kids busy with their toys. 

Soon changed from their matching PJs to their matching sweaters and Santa hats, they sat down on the couch with their children in their laps. As snow gently further covered the city outside, the family of four was sipping on Jake’s signature hot chocolate watching Christmas movies.

In the middle of watching Elf, when Bella was almost asleep against Jake’s chest and Mac was busy in the movie resting on Amy’s arm, Jake glanced over at Amy. Sharing a soft smile with the woman who had every part of his life better, he looked down at their children momentarily before he finally said the words she had never heard in all the years of being with him.

“I love the holidays.”

Reaching past their kids, Amy grabbed his hand before they turned back to their movie. She blinked back a tear knowing he had always loved the holidays, but never had a family to make him realize the same. Snuggling in closer to their kids, she ran her free hand over Mac’s hair, feeling lucky enough to be the one to build a family with him. And the gratefulness for their perfect little family just grow more with every Christmas morning.

[sharada-n]

Send me a character/fandom + prompt to help me complete my card

As requested, here is some Wilson suffering

The scorching heat beats down on him, pulsing waves in tune to the pounding in his head. Wilson rubs a hand against his feverish forehead, the flower petals of his garland are sticky with sweat and he cringes as a few stay glued to his skin.

A bunny scurries into its hole when he approaches, its surprised little noise the only thing breaking the silence of midday. A few tuffs of grass stand not far off, unmoving as there is no wind to stir them, but Wilson feels far too tired to harvest them right now.

Every step is pure agony. Pain, sharp like the fangs that initially bit into him, shoots down his leg at the slightest movement. Walking is becoming quite bothersome, not to mention he has no idea where he is going in the first place.

Running from the hounds has turned him around somewhat, and without a map to consult or any other familiar landmarks to use as orientation, Wilson is quite lost.

He knows camp can't be far off. He had only gone a little way, finding shelter with a stray pack of Beefalo. They were not too annoyed by him, but the hounds had quickly agitated them enough to wear out their patience and meet with their horns.

Not before one of them managed to lodge its teeth into Wilson's leg sadly.

The fabric of his pants is torn, stained darkly with blood as the wound bleeds sluggishly. Naturally this would happen when he hadn't any items on him to remedy the situation.

The high temperature is making it hard for him to think. The grassland seems to stretch on forever, pale yellow in every direction and there is nothing to do but saunter vaguely down the way he thinks his camp might be. Every few feet he has to stop, breathing through another bound of pain ripping through him.

He closes his eyes, just for a moment, walking blindly for a while, just to shield himself from the glaring sunlight and when he opens them again Wilson can see the vague outline of green in the distance.

It crosses his mind briefly, that this might just be a hallucination induced by overheating or blood loss or some horrible combination of both, but he doesn't care. His leg feels almost numb now, probably the adrenaline kicking in and while that might not be a good thing he uses it to his advantage now, putting just a bit more strain onto it than strictly logical.

He's running, more like hobbling, the sun casting a small shadow in front of him and if he just keeps following that, chasing it as it heads in front of him, maybe it will be fine after all.

It takes seemingly forever, the tree gradually growing in size, its image wavering due to the air currents. But as he finally approaches it, he knows its not a mirage after all.

Wilson's body slumps against it, his hands catching on the rough bark and he turns around, slides down until his back is fully against the tree and his legs are stretched in front of him. It's still way too hot for comfort, but the shade is a welcome reprise nonetheless.

He picks at the wound for a bit, a neat row of teeth marks with chunks of flesh missing, and sighs. Once more, he closes his eyes, breathing in the smell of pine and flowers not too far off, letting the dull throbbing in his leg pull him into a slowing rhythm, a cascade of tiredness washing over him all of the sudden.

He should get up. He should find his way to camp, get himself fixed up and eat something. He should do anything but fall asleep in the middle of nowhere.

Sleep pulls at him, demandingly, and Wilson doesn't have the strength to deny it.

A bird call wakes him, hours later. His head shoots up, bouncing against the tree trunk painfully and Wilson blinks quickly, trying to remember how to breathe.

The soreness is the first thing he registers. There is a profound ache, like being stabbed by tiny little needles repeatedly, running all over his left leg, as if his circulation isn't functioning properly. He pushes at it instinctively, maybe to get the blood flowing again, before remembering the wound and immediately regretting his decision.

It hurts.

It hurts quite a bit, actually.

He doubles over, grasps his knees and rocks in place to dispel the pain, muttering a few foul words under his breath.

After a few minutes his vision clears enough for him to see again. It's still warm, uncomfortably so, and he feels sweaty and gross and in dire need of a bath. But the light is filtered, darker, and Wilson knows it's the approach of dusk.

He tries to get up, but his leg won't cooperate. He looks at it closer, peeling back a bit of the torn fabric that has now firmly made its home within his flesh, sticking to the skin unpleasantly. It isn't wet with blood anymore. Instead, it has dried into a semi-hardness, almost gooey in texture.

Which is oddly fascinating, if also entirely disconcerting.

But it's swollen, the skin around the puncture marks feels heated to the touch and there is a distinct redness that concerns him.

He supposes hounds don't score very highly on dental hygiene.

He opens his backpack, using some twigs and rope to approximate something vaguely resembling a make-shift crutch. It helps, taking a lot of his weight off his injured leg, but Wilson knows he needs to get home quick.

The wound is already infected. Right now, there is only minor edema and hypovolemic shock to contend with. Combined with his rising fever and rapid pulse however, it won't be long before the situation devolves into something life-threatening.

The first lurching steps are difficult, his leg cramps up at the slightest movement, the pain now practically residing in his veins and slowly making its way through his entire body. But after a while he falls into an easy tempo, leaning into the crutch every other beat and allowing the injured appendage to be dragged along the ground instead.

The dark is coming in fast now, and while Wilson hasn't become any wiser as to where his camp is, the distant shine of stars now graces the sky, giving him something to work with at least. He starts heading north, hoping with all his heart to reach the camp before nightfall.

He has a spare torch, so the creeping tendrils of darkness that plague this world aren't of immediate concern to him. But he rather not spent the night outside, to be set on by spiders or whatever else may be lurking among the trees, with infection steadily overtaking his body.

The walk is tedious, once or twice he stops, thinking he recognizes a landmark, but every time he is met with disappointment when he realizes the environment is still unfamiliar to him. The constant rush of relief, only to be snuffed out by despondency only second later wears him down, and when the landscape starts to significantly darken around him he feels the last vestiges of hope ebb away.

Part of him is already resigned to spending the night in the open, but years of dabbling in science has made Wilson stubborn and unrelenting, even as he starts to feel the need to squint just to make out his surroundings.

His vision is swimming, dark spots threatening at the corners and his head feels full of nothingness, like after being hit with a strong anesthesia. He clenches at the crutch, knuckles turning white from the effort and arms straining.

He doesn't even recognize the campsite at first.

They are just odd shapes in the fading light, the wooden posts of his farms, the unclear outline of a bee box. Wilson's brain needs a few seconds to catch up, registering only that this is some sign of life he has come across, confusion because he had thought he was the only other living person in this hellscape.

Then it strikes him. This is his sign of life.

He immediately sets to work on lighting his fire, hands fumbling with the flint, trembling from exertion and anemia. The heath isn't very pleasant, especially on his already feverish skin, but the light chases away the shadows lurking on the sides of his peripheral vision and for that, Wilson is grateful.

He collapses eventually, with barely enough presence of mind to open a nearby chest and look for his medical supplies. Or, well, what he has harvested and managed to repurpose as medical supplies for dire circumstances.

He feels like he could sleep for years, but forces his mind to stay awake for just a few minutes longer as he cleans the wound, dressing it with practiced ease, he can't help but recall that fleeting moment.

The split second when this camp hadn't been perceived as his own and for a heartbeat Wilson had thought there was another person here. A fellow survivor. Another living soul.

"Well..." He says aloud, the fire crackling comfortably and his leg once more going slowly numb as he rests it, the crutch discarded to use as fuel later. "At least I'm not entirely alone."

And the shadows shift, answering him in kind.

[earwaxinggibbous]

10 Songs that make Love/Sex Sound Like No Fun

Happy Vagina Day! I mean Happy Valentines Day!

[wipes brow]

What do you mean it’s the 15th???

Valentines Day has always been my least favorite holiday, even now when I can actually appreciate it as a taken man. I was never a very romantic person, as hard as I try, and a lot of the gushy crap forced down our throats around February is akin to being buttfucked with a tree branch. It’s like walking into a store and all of the workers are talking in uwu-speak.

Hewwo wewcome to Gwistedes dat wiww be 20 dowwaws! Cash oah cwedit?

But if February is good for one thing aside from overcoming your Winter Break Hangover, as a song critic, it’s a good time to talk about love songs. (And fuck songs, ‘cause there’s a lot of those.) But talking about songs that actually bring out powerful romantic feelings is absolutely no fun, because like I said, I’m not a romantic man. Wouldn’t it be much more fun to find love and sex songs that make the acts seem... really, really lame? So that’s what we’re doing.

Keep in mind that I don’t know every song on the planet, in fact, my scope is actually a very small, strange corner of the musical world. So if you have your own list, feel free to put it together and show me if you want! Go crazy.

Honorable mentions go to any songs that aren’t actually intended to be romantic or sexy. Stuff like The Nine Inch Nails’ Closer. Or Eminem’s Kim. If that’s your idea of love, well... you do you I guess. There’ll be more honorables later.

Nuuuumber 10!

Closer - The Chainsmokers ft. Halsey

I personally believe both of the artists involved in this are more sexually weak than Kevin from F is for Family. (And if you’ve watched the whole series you know exactly what I’m talking about. Also hit me the fuck up, I need someone to fanboy over that shit with.)

I like Halsey. I don’t think she’s amazing or anything. Oftentimes I feel like her greatest flaw as an artist is that she wants to do three things at once: Appeal to internet people who like stuff like Marina and Lana del Rey (eg. Colors), appeal to a mainstream that just likes regular easy-listening pop music (eg. New Americana), and also just do her own thing and talk about her own experiences (eg. Control and Gasoline). These things don’t really work that well together at times. New Americana is one of those times, I hate that song. Closer is another one of those times.

The Chainsmokers kind of improved by 2017, but for awhile they were putting out soulless crap like Don’t Let Me Down with all the excitement of a party that only consists of art students. Closer is also lame. But more than that it shows me two things: The first being that Andrew Taggart is an asshole, and the second being that the Chainsmokers don’t know how to write women and even Halsey’s halfway-decent voice and attempts at emotion can’t really fix it.

“Hey, I drink a lot. But everything was fine before we started dating, so it must be YOUR fault!”

Part of me almost feels like Taggart just really wants to fuck Halsey and so he wrote this song as an excuse, like it’s essentially the expensive version of a self-insert fanfic. 

If the Chainsmokers are good at one thing, it’s lyrical detail. It worked in their favor in Paris, which is a song that I actually really love. All of the tiny details worked into it paint an insanely vivid picture of these two rich kids basically having some kind of one-night stand.

In Closer it does the complete opposite. I have a hard time believing that there’s any thought less sexy than fucking in the backseat of a range rover with a mattress in the trunk that belonged to your roommate, and they probably masturbated on it and how do you even have this car if you can’t afford it? Or is Taggart just being fucking presumptuous? Dammit, man.

Halsey plays this really pathetic character who left Taggart’s character based on looks alone, and is now regretting it because I guess the endless sexual draw of the weird long-headed guy from the Chainsmokers would make anyone change their mind. It paints Halsey’s character as pathetic, and that’s a character I have absolutely never wanted to see her play. Because her personality as a singer is kind of thin. When she’s playing a character who is aggressive and violently emotional, it works, but when in a role like this it feels like misuse of her actual talent. Kind of equivalent to when they got Eminem on that strip club song Shake That.

(He don’t get it. You don’t get it. And most of all, I don’t get it.)

Frankly, Halsey’s strengths (”specific yet vague” emotional detail) don’t play off well with the Chainsmokers’ strengths. (detailed scenery to piece together vague stories) These two should never have gotten together. Frankly, they shouldn’t have even tried,

Numéro Neuf

You Was Right - Lil Uzi Vert

His face is so weird. It’s just so weird.

I have a kind of odd love of Lil Uzi Vert, despite the fact I’ve only heard one song that I really liked. (XO Tour Lif3, for the record.) I feel like he has a creative energy that most artists in pop are missing, but he’s really, REALLY not using it to his advantage. A lot of his songs are just kind of... nothing. 

You Was Right is one of those hits that was so early in 2017, my brain keeps telling me it was a 2016 hit. It was also Uzi’s first platinum single. It’s an okay song musically. Not that interesting. Beat kind of sounds like it was bumped from Wicked, which is not helped by the fact that Metro Boomin’ was involved in both songs. But lyrically, this song is... weird and confusing.

The basic plot makes sense: Lil Uzi’s character in this song feels bad after cheating on his girlfriend, and he wishes he could turn back time and stop himself from doing so. But man. This song makes the idea of a relationship with Lil Uzi sound like way more trouble than it’s worth.

I bet you’re asking me: “Panda, is this line accompanied by the most obnoxious eye-roll possible in the music video?”

Yes. Yes it is.

Yep, that’s right. Lil Uzi is feeling guilty, and wishes he’d never taken this girl home, and--

Uzi stop.

You should’ve just not. Done anything. Because you have a girlfriend. You shouldn’t have boned, you should’ve gone home and boned your girlfriend, dammit Lil Uzi. Let me like you, you bastard.

The reason this isn’t any higher is because I at least feel like Uzi has some kind of love for his girlfriend. As the second line indicates that the moment he saw his girlfriend, he immediately passed by some other woman to hit her up. But still...

I THINK YOU KIND OF DID WRECK HER. YOU FUCKED A GROUPIE, MAN.

This whole verse is just funny I have no explanation. Like. You’re in the same room, but because the door is locked, even though... you’re in the same room? You can’t talk? But she’s actually in the bathroom. And Uzi needs to take a piss, so he’s basically just forcing some romantic lovey-dovey crap, like babe I wanna caress you, I’m seriously gonna wreck the carpet right now, can we just move on from this.

But here’s the best/worst line, in my humble onion:

1. What does this have to do with anything,

2. He’s gonna fuck your sister and then kill her if you talk shit, I guess. So to my sister, I am very sorry.

I think Uzi improved on conveying emotion in his next album, or at least with the big single XO Tour Lif3, which I’ll defend until I’m dead. But as for You Was Right, well... he was wrong.

Número Ochoooooo!

Shape Of You - Ed Sheeran

Did you wanna fuck Ed Sheeran?

NO?

TOO BAD.

Ed Sheeran is a musician I enjoy purely for the purpose of mocking him. While he does, now and then, drop a good single like Don’t, Sing or Castle on the Hill, oftentimes he exudes only one thing:

PERPETUAL VIRGINITY!

Maybe it’s because of his voice. Or maybe it’s because he looks like a high schooler who hit puberty too late. Maybe it’s because I have THIS picture of him saved to my computer:

Look at him. Look at his fucking face.

He just exudes involuntary celibacy. Not like the reddit “hurgh durgh FEMOIDS” kind, just like. The “sees a naked boob and passes out bleeding like an anime character” kind.

Look at his fucking face. He looks like he’s not sure how to hold a woman’s hand. He looks like he doesn’t even know what it is. I don’t know how I’m expected to recognize Ed Sheeran as a sexually active man. The weird dinky three-tone beat ripped straight from Sia’s Cheap Thrills and pretty much every Rihanna song ever, namely Work, doesn’t help in the slightest. Because here’s the thing: Work and Cheap Thrills are not sex songs. If anything, they’re songs about the lower class and their struggles. No fucking required, unless you count Drake’s verse on Work.

Shape Of You is a sex song. And it’s about as sexy as wedging your dick in a paper bag.

It’s like it was supposed to be a romantic sex song, but the vibe I’m getting is a teenage boy up in your DMs asking (admittedly politely) for titty pics. 

He’s in love with the shape of you. Just your outline. Your contour. Like that one episode of Ed Edd ‘n Eddy where Jimmy somehow gets his linework stolen and has to be kept in a blender? He wouldn’t fuck a lady like that. You gotta have a... shape. Square. Circle. 

RECTANGLE GIRLS OF THE WORLD

This isn’t helping the whole “virginal loser” thing for the record.

The verses try to be more romantic, and totally fail at it because let’s be honest, if Ed Sheeran took me to an all-you-can-eat buffet on our first date, I’d probably kill him. McDonald’s is even preferable. I guess it’s also technically more expensive if you want seconds, but like... everyone there is probably sweaty... and the food usually looks really gross. Sometimes you have mashed potatoes in the steak bucket and it just completely ruins your day.

Ed’s wispy delivery really doesn’t help, as he has all the sexual energy of a castrated Charlie Puth. He’s not crazy. He does not fit the radio definition of “crazy”. He’s the musician that I just see the least as one who fucks. Puth gets more pussy. The ICP get more pussy. Meghan Trainor probably fucks more than he does, and I wouldn’t be surprised if she was some kind of otherworldly plant being that reproduces via budding. 

Also I’d feel bad if I didn’t mention the video, which is literally, no joke, the video for Maroon 5′s One More Night. You know, where the lead singer becomes a badass boxer who punches shit. Now I’ll probably drop my feelings towards Maroon 5 with more detail in the future, but in short, I actually enjoy most of their singles. One More Night is a fun song in my opinion, not high art or anything, but I like it. Adam’s falsetto doesn’t bug me as much as other people. I’d prefer him singing in a high pitch than, say, Swae Lee.

(Dammit Swae, let me love you, you bastard.)

But see, I actually also prefer the VIDEO for One More Night. For two big reasons.

1. Adam Levine is at least a little more threatening than Ed Sheeran. Remember how fucking goofy Animals was BECAUSE Adam was singing it? Imagine if Ed was on that track. It’d be ridiculous.

and

2. One More Night was a song about how his relationship with his girlfriend basically feels like a warzone. The violence in the music video was, at some level, metaphorical. In Shape Of You it doesn’t have any emotional or symbolic relevance, so I just have to take at face-value that Ed Sheeran is a boxer, and...

That’s just not happening.

Numerum VII!

Blurred Lines - Robin Thicke ft. Pharrell and T.I.

This would easily be higher up if not for the fact that, on the most technical level, it’s a joke song.

Bet you didn’t know that.

Yeah, the joke here is that these three are singing this ridiculous sex jam despite in real life all being happily married men (or at least were at the time this song came out, Robin’s wife promptly dropped him as soon as this album fell into our collective hands) who are way past their prime when it comes to flirting with chicks at the club. Also, Pharrell looks like an alien.

I’m not gonna extend this too much, as everyone’s already riffed on Blurred Lines more than we’ve probably riffed on other socially questionable songs like U.O.E.N.O. or Treat You Better. But this song sounds like it... COULD BE about sexual assault?

I’ll be fair and say that I don’t think this is straight-up a rape song. Because the thing is that it’s not actually about sex, it’s about picking up girls. But Robin’s approach is so slimy and gross that I’d honestly prefer, very specifically, to re-enact that one scene from The Simpsons’ Cape Feare where they drive through a bunch of cacti with Sideshow Bob hanging on the bottom of the car, and I’m Sideshow Bob, but facing the ground with my dick out, so it slides through the cactus like a sad, sad little pool noodle full of thumbtacks.

On one hand, there’s implications of attempting to get consent, and on the other hand, there’s also discussion of whether or not he’s actually GETTING consent or not. Maybe it’d work if Robin Thicke had more swagger to his personality, and if they removed all the stuff about “blurred lines”, it’d be less suspicious. But even then it’d still sound like a /r/niceguy trying to convince a girl that she WANTS to fuck him.

Once again I’d like to mention the video real quick, specifically the alternate version.

The topless version somehow makes it even LESS sexy. When the women were clothed, it definitely gave more of a vibe of “cheeky girl at a bar playing hard to get”, but once you have a bunch of topless chicks running around looking unhappy and bored, it reads more as... “harem sex dungeon”.

Not much else to say, really. Other than that Miley Cyrus has horrible taste in men.

Even you can do better, Miley.

Nummer Sechs!

The Hills - The Weeknd

The Hills is about as sexy as getting the bottom half of my body lost in the void while prime minister Shinzo Abe projectile vomits onto my face.

I actually like this song. But it doesn’t sound like sex. At all.

It does sound like a good horror movie soundtrack, which I guess...

I guess at least this line would make sense if it was?

Everything about this song kind of punches you. The beat punches you and the tune punches you and it’s really really loud. Literally everything about this song fits together EXCEPT THE PREMISE. This is, from what I can gather, a song about some dark spooky sex machine who’s helping a girl cheat on her boyfriend, but doesn’t really care because his drug problem or something is more important to him. And nothing fits with it.

Say what you want about Earned It, it sounds like a sex song. Maybe I’ll discuss that song in the future, but while Earned It creates the vibe of some sort of expensive Blank Space-esque rich guy mansion with a sexual twist, The Hills sounds more like... an explosion in a really dark place. Even the video works for the sound more than it works for the premise. Frankly, if this had been a song about a break-up or being sent to prison or something, I’d totally buy it. The Weeknd’s warbling baby voice can convey suffering more than it can convey sex.

The best way I can explain this is...

Imagine if Rolex was backed by the ending track from A Serbian Film. That’s the tonal problem we’re talking here.

Though lyrically, The Hills isn’t high art either.

Bragging about erectile dysfunction: Counting this and Young Thug’s Lifestyle, I guess we can call this a theme now. I hate it. Also, Weeknd rhymes “simple” with “simple”. And the fact that this is a fuckjam makes the title drop of The Hills Have Eyes even more questionable. I’d honestly rather hear a sex song based on Cannibal Holocaust.

Also, fun fact, this song has a remix featuring Eminem. Fucking EMINEM. That is the least sexy rapper you could have picked. You could have chosen anyone for your sex song, and you picked the man responsible for such classic sensual love songs as Stan and Just Lose It.

Dear Weeknd, I wrote you but you still ain’t callin’...

Still a song I like. Just... pretend it’s not about boning.

Numero Cinque!

Bad Things - Machine Gun Kelly ft. Camila Cabello

I debated deep in my heart as to whether or not I could, in good taste, put this song on the list. Because I really shouldn’t expect a whole lot from ex-Fifth Harmony member as well as the only Fifth Harmony member anyone knows the name of, Camila Cabello, as well as this weirdo Machine Gun Kelly, who looks like a very failed attempt to clone Macklemore.

But then I read this.

Wait, this is a love song?

I thought it was just... about like, fucking.

ALSO WHY THE FUCK WOULD YOU SAMPLE OUT OF MY HEAD IN A LOVE SONG.

And most importantly, and much less aggressively, why does this song sound like it’s about, like... abuse.

Like, yeah. You’re- you’re giving each other scars. And guess what! This is actually edited.

Somehow the edit makes it both better and worse. Because on one hand, like, bruises usually sounds like more of an abuse thing. When I think of an abuse victim I see bruises. But, also, scars are... technically a bigger deal? Bruises go away. If you’re scarring up your SO, then you have some serious issues. And MGK’s uninterested delivery makes it way worse, as well as the Fastball sample that is from a song about hurting your lover. Which kind of sounds, uh, a lot like... what’s going on here.

And, uh, I guess you could argue they’re in a really intense BDSM relationship? I guess Camila seems pretty into it, and not really in like, a Stockholm Syndrome way. But the other thing that takes up a good chunk of this song is the comparison between drug dependence and romance.

Which really doesn’t help?

Like drugs aren’t a good thing. Honestly I feel like Kesha using this metaphor was a sign of things to come considering what happened to her in 2017. Because, here’s a crazy thought, drugs may be addictive... but they also hurt you.

Like an abusive partnerokay we’re moving on sorry.

Numero Neljä!

Treat You Better - Shawn Mendes

Oh hey, I like, just mentioned this one.

Honestly, Kodak Black’s Side N**** would’ve taken this spot, except that I don’t wanna think about Kodak Black. Ever. So you get the whiter version of it.

Treat You Better is another one of those songs that makes the idea of dating the singer sound insanely unappealing. But unlike You Was Right above, Treat You Better has next to no self-awareness.

I’ll admit that I don’t really hate Shawn Mendes. I actually like Stitches, the tune is nice enough and regardless of how you feel about this apparently 6′2 tower of twink flesh, you can’t really argue that he hasn’t got a decent set of pipes on him. 

But damn if his songwriters aren’t trying to sour my opinion of him at every turn.

If this were an actual review, I’d complain about how the backing guitar sounds exactly LIKE Stitches, but the problems arise in the lyrics, and the way the video plays off of the lyrics.

oh wait excuse me

Alright sorry.

But in case you can’t tell, Treat You Better is basically a niceguy anthem. I mean, when I read the title I thought it was like the earlier-mentioned Fastball’s Out Of My Head or Hoobastoobaskeeboodidillybaboobastank’s The Reason where the male singer does some nonspecific bad thing to their SO and vows to be better in the future. You know, like--

(YAH... HUH... I PROMISE TO, UH... BE BETTER... YIEAH...)

But no, actually. Treat You Better is more equivalent to Daya’s Hide Away, which you could honestly consider as on this list in the exact same spot because they’re basically the same song.

I suspect the reason nobody wants to date Daya is because she dresses like Heather Chandler in the 2018 Heathers remake.

I also suspect her and Shawn would absolutely love one another’s company. 

To be absolutely fair, neither of these songs take the stance that real life nicefolk take, because it’d make them look absolutely insufferable. The big reason I chose Treat You Better over Hide Away for this list is that the video tries to imply that Shawn’s object of attraction is being abused by her current boyfriend. Which I guess makes sense, but...

I love how the combination of the song and the video essentially imply that Shawn’s got this ladyfriend who’s being beaten to shit by her boyfriend and his only response is man, this is why you should’ve dated me instead! I would be WAY better to you than that guy!

Instead of, you know.

This guy is seriously terrible to you and I’m calling the police.

Or better yet!

Kill him.

Also this girl’s just not... a very good actress. I’m not asking for a Hollywood performance, just, you know. Some kind of expression other than “mild disinterest” when you’re about to get your shit kicked in would be nice.

Really the big issue is that, regardless of whether or not we’re supposed to see the girl as an abuse victim, Shawn will forever see himself as the victim. Which means it’s either

A. Some dildo victimizing himself because his best friend is a taken woman and he wants to Betta in her Dannygans.

or B. Some dildo victimizing himself because his best friend is in an abusive relationship... and he wants to Betta in her Dannygans.

So either way, Shawn Mendes’ greatest worry isn’t your safety, or if you’re happy in your current relationship, his one worry is getting his spindly little baby-soft white boy hands into your undies. And frankly, I just don’t need that in my life!

the third one

Honey I’m Good - Andy Grammar

How much do you wanna bet all these couples broke up/got divorced after featuring in this thing? 

I labored over how this one matched up with #2, but decided it was at least making some sad, sad attempt to promote faithfulness in couples. See the plot of this song written by Andy Grammar, who I’m assuming is a one-hit wonder because I’d certainly never heard of him until this song came out, is stated very clearly:

I think the best part about this is the way it’s worded. “I gotta be like oh baby, nah baby” makes him sound so annoyed. Like, “Ugh, I wanna bone you, but I wanna be nice to my wife or whatever, so I GUESS I’ll turn you down... Sigh...”

So this is essentially a self-fellating anthem congratulating Andy’s character for not cheating on his wife. Because, as he says,

“Yeah, babe, better men than me have cheated on their wives, so it’d be totally fine if I DID, but I’m such a Nice Dude that I won’t do it. For my wife. Smooch.”

One could argue that he’s supposed to be drunk, but let’s be real here: Being drunk doesn’t make you lie. If anything, it makes you more honest. Booze is a truth serum. Now if he had just gotten out of dental care after getting his wisdom teeth pulled and his hot lady dentist was trying to flirt with him, maybe I could imagine it making sense.

And once again, the Devil’s Advocate could say, “well if he’s being honest, then this shouldn’t be a problem, he’s faithful to his wife”, but the thing is that he’s not even totally drunk yet.

Translation: If I have another drink, I’ll be so boozed up that my honest feelings will make me want to fuck that ass.

He’s tipsy at best, which is why he’d admit to considering this at all, but if he were more drunk he’d totally fuck this assumedly more attractive woman. So for all we know he’ll go back to the club tomorrow, have one too many, and considering how well this stupid song did, he’d throw enough money at the next Cambodian prostitute he runs into to buy her a mansion.

The congratulatory tone to the music doesn’t really help, it really does feel like Grammar is sucking himself off for having the “willpower” to not be a completely terrible person. The only thing that makes it even more hilariously sad is the video of elderly couples lip-syncing to it, all the while holding up signs or wearing shirts that say how many years they’ve been together. It’s as if they’re bragging about how their marriage is bound to last way longer than the marriage in the song.

“Mildred, do you promise not to bone a random guy at the bar when I’m home?” “Only if you promise not to do that either, you rascal you.”

For all I know, Andy Grammar’s a great guy! But with only this song to go by, I’m obligated to assume that he’s a complete dildo who wears a mask of faux-Southern charm when he’s sober and avoids getting drunk so that mask doesn’t shloff off of his face like he’s a juggalo at the official sprinkler festival.

The weirdest part of this to me is that this song is so catchy we actually fell for it, if only for awhile. And its happy tone kind of makes you forget the lyrics. I almost feel like that was intentional. Like, his producers looked at the lyrics and just said, “Boys, let’s fix this shit.” It’s not even good production, it’s just really catchy! Fuck!

All in all, Honey I’m Good is about as romantic as listening to my parents argue at 12 in the morning. Not only is there no reason Andy Grammar deserves any congrats on his mediocre “feat”, but he really doesn’t seem to love his wife that much, if a shot of tequila and a scantily-clad cokewhore is enough to wreck his faith.

Numbah TWOOOOO!

What The Hell - Avril Lavigne

I’d honestly argue that Avril Lavigne’s character as a singer is equally sociopathic to that of Taylor Swift and Cher Lloyd. I feel like after Hello Kitty slaughtered her reputation and career forever, we kind of forgot how genuinely terrifying she was. She’s like every horrible thing about being a teenager squeezed into one person who’s way too old to be pretending to be a teenager. I mean, look at Girlfriend. The only thing more terrifying than Girlfriend is, well, What The Hell. 

Because, you know. That’s not a problem or anything.

Rather than the obsessive character from Girlfriend, Avril in this song is the complete opposite. She doesn’t make connections with anybody, and when she’s sick of a relationship, she’ll move onto her boyfriend’s friends, strangers, fans, non-fans, parents, teachers, Todd Howard, etcetera. So she’ll go around macking on anything she wants and then have blase, slightly annoyed reaction when her boyfriend is completely horrified by it.

(This? This is my greatest fear.)

Her disinterest really comes out in the lyrics, and her sales pitch is, basically, this is just who I am and you should fuck me even if you don’t like it. Especially since, while I hate to be the guy who says it, if this was a song by a guy, everyone would fucking hate it. I actually don’t mind the beat or the tune, honestly, I listen to this song sometimes when I’m out of music that rises above the bar of “guilty pleasure”. That almost makes this worse. Everything is delivered with the disinterest of a Future verse, as if this is just a normal thing, and looking back imagining middle school me singing along to this is pretty fucked. 

Not that I really blame this for any kind of influence on children. Honestly I don’t think anyone was really listening to the lyrics, they were just having fun. It’s fun! That’s pretty messed up.

By the way, I think this bit on the bridge says a lot about Avril as a writer (and maybe even as a person):

I love the assumption that this guy is still devoted to her after she has cheated on him and shown no remorse whatsoever. Why would he really want her back? Personally I’d say something along the lines of “fuck you, bitch, go get syphilis somewhere where it can’t be transferred to me.” Bye bye!

Really, though, the more Avril Lavigne tried to lean into her teen rebellion phase, the more I realized how old she was. And as she got older, and tried to be more rebellious, it became less endearing and more sociopathic. Maybe she’s a really nice person, but at the same time, to write a song like this, I can’t really tell. Especially when THIS is how she describes it:

Avril, you read the lyrics, right? Of course you did, you sang it. Jesus, lady.

Well, before we move onto the big weiner, let’s talk honorable mentions!

You Belong With Me - Taylor Swift

Surprised that Taylor didn’t make it on here? It came down to the wire, but in the end, the concept of screwing in a pile of jizzy sheets in a range rover bumped this one off the list. Still, though, Taylor’s attempts to be “relatable” end up making her sound desperate. And also Taylor’s pre-existing ideas of why she’s “better” for him than this other girl kinda remind me of...

Hide Away - Daya

I almost wish I had found space for this song since I hate it so much. But really my biggest problem with it is that Daya sings like a rubber goose and that, of course, the nicegirl/niceguy mentality needs to die and people like Daya are perpetuating it.

Don’t Wanna Know - Maroon 5 ft. Kendrick Lamar

Yikes, dude. Just... yikes.

Marvin Gaye - Charlie Puth ft. Meghan Trainor

Charlie Puth and Meghan Trainor are two beacons of sexlessness and this song does Marvin Gaye a disservice. The only reason I left it off is because it’s honestly been discussed to death, I’m almost like, tired of hearing about it. 

Side N**** - Kodak Black

This isn’t even a niceguy song, it’s literally “you should date me because I’ll shoot you and your man if you don’t”. I’d have loved to make space for it, but I don’t even want to listen to this song in full, or talk about this guy. At this point Kodak Black is keeping the fire lit with controversy. I’d like to just dump water on it.

NUMBER ONE!

Sigh. This one’s obvious enough.

Dear Future Husband - Meghan Trainor ft. Satan, probably

Sometimes you just gotta throw your hands up and say STOP, MEGHAN! STOP!

STOP!

Meghan Trainor is an artist who I actually do understand the appeal of: She appeals to white feminist teenage girls and soccer moms that still read Twilight even though their daughters are long since over it. But, sadly, that’s two demographics of people I hate, and  thus, I find myself hating everything Meghan Trainor puts out. The only remotely passable single I remember by her was Lips Are Moving. Dear Future Husband isn’t even my least favorite fucking Meghan Trainor song. (It’d probably be No, if I had to pick.) But god, if this song isn’t just... oof.

Let’s get the shoehorned feminist message out of the way:

We know you have a job, nobody’s expecting you to cook, why would you bake pies all day, who needs that many pies, no you can’t write a hook, and these views are insanely outdated for anyone who doesn’t have a Return of Kings account. So great, you have a job and can’t cook. Cool. That’s a thing with a lot of people.

Honestly the insistence that she “deserves it” even though she makes no attempt to prove herself a good wife aside from saying she’ll buy you groceries and fuck you sometimes. This song kind of lays on the assumption that you’ll do literally anything because, duh, she’s famous musician Meghan Trainor, and if you don’t do these things, YOU JUST HATE FAT GIRLS.

(Mary Lambert never pulls this shit. And she weighs more than the gold toilet you use, while you’re using it, MEGHAN.)

Honestly though, listening to Meghan Trainor songs just kind of turn me into that obnoxious guy on 4chan who unironically uses the term “feminazi” in 2018. Because really, she fits every feminist stereotype in existence, and she never says anything of any worth.

Now that we’ve got that out of the way--

Acting crazy... how?

Do we mean like, Ren & Stimpy crazy, or Avril Lavigne crazy?

Because I’m terrified it’s the latter.

Meghan kind of talks about her theoretical future husband like he’s a dog, or some other kind of animal that does badass tricks. Essentially obligating him to constantly do what she wants, when she wants it, and never disagree with her even if she’s in the wrong, because then she MIGHT fuck him. Or, uh, excuse me,

Some KISSES! :D

You like KISSES, don’t you? Who’s a good boy? WHO’S A GOOD BOY? IT’S YOU! YOU’RE A GOOD BOY!

...

[clears throat]

It doesn’t help that this song is, essentially, just a list of requests and things this guy has to do. So while Meghan can do whatever she wants, her husband is still required to do the traditionalist romance crap like buy her things, lose every argument, hold doors, accept potential insanity, and be “classy”.

Honestly, don’t let Daya and Meghan Trainor do a single together. I think the pain of hearing it will overtake my body. Like that forcible body-wracking feeling you get when you dry heave.

The best part being that I haven’t even touched on the worst line.

So like, ignoring all of the other shit, if a girlfriend or potential wife said this to me, I’d jump ship. Like, controlling every other aspect of your life wasn’t enough, she also gets to decide what people you see! So if she doesn’t really like your good friend John, then he’s banned from this house forever. And forget about seeing your grandpa. She doesn’t care if he has cancer! You fucking MISOGYNIST PIG! LOVE YOUR WIFE!

Urgh. Of course the song that combines the insanity of What The Hell with the me-me-me attitude of Treat You Better and the bored lack of emotional connection in You Was Right would top this list. I’m glad Meghan Trainor killed her own career in 2016, because I don’t think I’d be able to handle another year of these shitty faux-feminist throwback jams. Thanks, Me Too!

If I was you, I’d wanna anyone besides me, too!

Also, if anyone’s curious about ratings I’d give these, here you go.

10 - 2/5 stars. Not good enough to be mediocre.

9 - 1.5/5 stars, mostly because Lil Uzi can do better, which is half a saving grace and half a detriment.

8 - 1/5 stars. Ech.

7 - 2/5 stars. I’ll admit the Blurred Lines controversy was blown out of proportion, but it’s still not that great of a song.

6 - 3.5/5 stars. I can get down to this, it’s just... not sexy.

5 - 0/5 stars. RIP Fastball.

4 - .5/5 stars. Only because Shawn’s slurring is funny.

3 - 2/5 stars. At least it’s fun, I guess.

2 - 2.5/5 stars. Again, at least it’s enjoyable if you ignore the words.

1 - 0/5 stars. No more Meghan, please.

[megsblackfirewrites]

A Growing Belly

A Growing Belly

Jack kept his arms folded behind his back as he spoke with Gabriel. This was an official matter that he and Gabriel were talking about, particularly the risk factors of the mission he and a handful of his Blackwatch agents were heading out on. Gabriel was frowning, rubbing slowly at his beard as he nodded in agreement.

“It’s just a reconnaissance mission,” Gabriel soothed. “The worst that’s going to happen is that we’re spotted.”

“No firefights,” Jack urged. “You’re in a populated sector. The chance for civilian injury or casualty is too high. We can’t allow collateral damage. Not this time.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, Strike Commander,” Gabriel inclined his head before he leaned in and kissed him. “And I’ll be fine, Jack. Don’t worry.”

“It’s what a mate does,” Jack sighed as he flicked his tail. “If I didn’t worry, it means I didn’t care. That would worry you more.”

“I know,” Gabriel smiled before gently licking his cheek. If Jack didn’t know that dogs were gross, he might have been disgusted. “And I love you for it, my sunshine.”

“Rub the belly for good luck!” Jesse shouted.

Jack’s ears folded back before he self-consciously rested his hands on his belly. The babies were growing at a healthy rate, but three little jellybeans demanded a lot of room even if they were only about five months along. Gabriel flipped Jesse off before he knelt down to nuzzle at Jack’s belly. He was careful to avoid the swollen teats, knowing how sensitive they were now that milk production was well on its way.

Nuzzling Jack’s belly was something he did before he left for a mission, even if he was only going to be gone for a day. It was comforting and Jack loved feeling his mate’s face against his belly, even if it was through his protective armor.

“You be good for your Momma,” Gabriel cooed to the babies inside. “Stay off his bladder at night so he can sleep.”

Jack felt one of them roll over and smiled as a tiny hand pressed against his belly and Gabriel’s nose. Gabriel’s tail wagged furiously at the contact, his brown eyes shimmering with tears as he nuzzled the tiny hand.

“Yes, Papi’s here,” he soothed. “I’m going to be gone for a little while, but I’ll come right back. Don’t you worry, my darlings; Papi won’t ever leave you alone.”

Gabriel kissed over Jack’s belly before he stood up and kissed Jack one more time. Jack rested his forehead against Gabriel’s, purring happily as Gabriel’s fingers kneaded his ears.

“Be safe,” Jack whispered as he pulled away.

“I will be; promise,” Gabriel smiled and kissed Jack’s palm. “Okay, you lot; on the dropship. Let’s move!”

Jack backed up to a safe distance as the agents trotted up the loading deck to the dropship. Jack lifted a hand to keep the wind out of his face as the engines powered up and the loading deck started rising. Gabriel saluted sharply before he turned and vanished into the ship. It rose slowly into the air before shooting off towards the east. Jack took a deep breath as the ship vanished from sight and turned to head back inside.

He headed for the medical bay for his latest check-up. He was upset that Gabriel wasn’t going to be there with him, but it was just to make sure their jellybeans had reached their next growth milestone. Angela was waiting for him with a smile, a tray of salmon set out for him.

“You don’t have to bribe me to get on the table,” Jack said as he eyed the salmon hungrily.

“I figured you’d be hungry,” Angela replied as she pulled a pair of gloves on. “How’s the weight distribution?”

“Mostly on my stomach and hips,” Jack said as he hauled himself up onto the medical berth and laid down. He hiked his shirt up over his belly and carefully unlatched the catch for his nursing bra. He winced as his heavy teats immediately released milk all over his belly, soaking his white fur. “Fuck.”

“That’s normal,” Angela soothed as she got a towel to soak up the milk. “Don’t be embarrassed.”

“It’s a little hard not to when I smell like milk,” Jack grimaced. “All the toms notice.”

“Well, if they don’t realize it’s because you’re pregnant, they need to have their heads’ checked,” Angela said as she got the ultrasound jelly out. “You aren’t producing milk for the fun of it. Your babies need milk to grow big and strong.”

“Still, if I’m not wearing the bra, I soak right through my shirt and it stinks,” Jack folded his ears back miserably. “And everyone just stares. You’d swear I was letting Gabe mount me in public or something.”

“They’re just rude,” Angela said as she dabbed at his belly and started rubbing the jelly into his fur. “Although, if you’re alright with it, I would like to take a sample of your milk to make sure you’re producing the right proteins. I’m not sure how much the SEP chemicals would affect your milk production and the doctors I’m in contact with have expressed similar concerns. We want to make sure your babies are as healthy as they can be and it all starts at the milk.”

“Yah, no problem,” Jack nodded his head before he glanced eagerly at the screen.

Angela smiled as she turned the screen towards him and started moving the wand around. It took a few tries before she managed to get the image centered. Jack whimpered happily at the sight of his babies. Two were sharing a sack, snuggling up against each other as their mouths opened slowly. The third was turned away from their siblings, but even as Angela moved the wand, they rolled over to snuggle with the twins.

“They’re putting on weight quick,” Angela smiled. “I don’t see any signs of stress or genetic problems. They’re doing great, Jack.”

“I’m glad,” Jack sighed as he watched his bundles of joy wiggle and snuggle inside of him. “I’m still laughing that they wouldn’t let you sex them.”

“Legs crossed and everything,” Angela laughed as she moved the wand. “Oh...well, I think that little one all on their lonesome is going to be a dog.”

Jack watched the stubby tail twitch and smiled. “Gabe’ll be happy,” he said.

“And you?” Angela asked softly.

“Oh, Angie, I don’t care,” he laughed. “They’re healthy and growing. That’s all I care about.”

“That’s good,” Angela smiled. “Okay, I’ll get a pump and get that milk sample.”

Jack nodded as she walked away, reaching down to run his fingers through his belly fur. A hand immediately pressed against his, the tiny little nubs barely making an indent through the thick fur. He cooed to his baby, rolling carefully onto his side so they weren’t pressing on his bladder. He winced as his teats made a mess on the floor, grumbling about them filling up way too fast.

“Here we are,” Angela said as she sat down beside him. “I’ll take a sample from each swollen teat, okay?”

Jack nodded and helped her get the breast pump situated over one teat. He let out a soft groan of relief as it started pumping, pulling the milk out in pulsating bursts. Angela let a small bottle fill up before she moved the pump to the next teat. She filled four bottles and carefully labelled them before setting them aside.

“There,” she said. “All done. I’ll see you in a few weeks.”

“Okay,” he nodded as he got to his feet.

He pulled his shirt back down over his stomach and headed for his office. Ana had a stack of paperwork waiting for him when he arrived. He let out a long sigh before he walked over and settled himself down at his desk. The joys of being a commanding officer. There was never any respite from the paperwork.

“Jack, I’m home,” Gabriel called as he walked into the apartment. “I wrote up the report on the way back so it’s waiting on your desk for tomorrow. Where is my fuzzy sunshine?”

“Couch,” Jack called. “The jellybeans are revolting to me moving and I can’t take them kicking my bladder again.”

Gabriel chuckled as he walked into the living room. Jack was curled up on the couch, a huge blanket draped over him. Gabriel knelt down to kiss his mate, rubbing their noses together as Jack let out a soft sigh.

“I missed you,” Jack murmured as his soft blue eyes opened. “It’s been lonely.”

“I’m home now,” Gabriel soothed as he kissed over Jack’s nose and cheeks. “I’m not leaving again for a while.”

“Good,” Jack smiled as he slowly sat up. “Mmm, couch isn’t big enough for two. Let’s go to the bedroom.”

Gabriel opened his mouth to tease his mate about his growing belly, but anything he was about to say died as Jack got to his feet. His stomach had grown while Gabriel was away and he could see the outline of one little baby as it rolled over. His hips had widened, turning and opening up his pelvis for when he had to give birth. His butt had filled out too, forming an almost perfect heart shape under his jeans. Gabriel wanted nothing more than to bury his face in that plush ass and forget about the world.

“Gabe, you coming?” Jack called as he stopped at the door and looked over his shoulder.

“You keep swaying those hips and I will!” Gabriel grinned widely as he got to his feet. “Hot damn; just when I thought you couldn’t get any sexier, you went and blew me away.”

Jack blinked at him before he turned bright red and turned away. “Gabriel!”

“What?” Gabriel laughed as he trotted over and buried his face in Jack’s neck, his tail wagging madly behind him. “How can I not love a pregnant you? Look at these full hips and that fertile belly and that cute round bum. You’re gorgeous, babe.”

“I look like a pregnant molly, nothing else,” Jack grumbled as he squirmed in Gabriel’s arms. “You’re just looking for an excuse to mount me.”

“Like I need an excuse to make love to my mate,” Gabriel chuckled as he nosed Jack’s cheek. “I’m serious, Jack. Seeing you bloom with our babies in your belly is mesmerizing. I can’t get enough!”

“There’s one more thing,” Jack sighed heavily as he slipped from Gabriel’s arms. “Don’t laugh, okay?”

Gabriel tipped his head to the side as Jack deftly stripped out of his clothing. His eyes followed the contours of his mate’s body and he felt himself growing hard at the sight. His belly fur had gotten thick and lush, hiding the swollen red nipples from sight. Or, it would have if they weren’t leaking the minute Jack removed the nursing bra.

“Oh, they’ve gotten that bad?” Gabriel asked as he walked over.

“They have,” Jack sighed. “I have to pump them almost three times a day. It’s so uncomfortable!”

Jack squealed as Gabriel’s mouth closed over a nipple and started suckling. Rich milk filled his mouth, drawing a long groan from Gabriel. He looked up at his mate and grinned around the sensitive nipple before burying his face in the soft fur.

“I can help with that,” he promised as he drained the teat and moved onto the next one.

“You are not a pup, Gabriel,” Jack hissed, but didn’t push him away. “You don’t need my milk.”

“But it’s so delicious, my love,” Gabriel grinned as he leaned further down and popped the third teat into his mouth. “Mmm, nice and creamy.”

“You’re lucky it feels good or I’d kick your ass,” Jack huffed as he backed up to the bed and laid down. “Fuck, you’re better than that pump.”

Gabriel let out a low growl of amusement before he moved to the fourth teat and drained it too. “There,” he said as he pulled away and cleaned milk out of his beard. “Nice and empty. Now that my tank is fuel, I can make you feel good.”

“Gabe,” Jack smiled as he brought on leg up so that Gabriel could nuzzle between his thighs. “You’re so weird.”

“Mmm,” Gabriel agreed as he kissed over the dimpled flesh that would eventually become Jack’s birth canal. “I just love everything about you. Now hush and let the father of your babies take care of your loneliness.”

The long moan he drew from Jack as his tongue rolled over the delicate flesh of his underside was more than enough indication that Jack approved.

“What are you wearing, Strike Commander?” the photographer demanded.

Jack looked down at his uniform in confusion. “My uniform? Like I always wear to these photo ops,” he said slowly.

“What good is that to me?” she demanded with a snort. “You can barely see you baby bump!”

“That’s the point?” Jack ran his fingers slowly through his hair. “It’s supposed to keep them supported without making it obvious….”

“Sir, with all due respect, that is precisely the opposite reason I’m here today,” the photographer sighed. “We’re supposed to be showing off your baby bump, not hiding it.”

“Well, yes,” Jack agreed slowly. “But this is much more crowd appropriate.”

“Sir, please,” the photographer rubbed her face. “Just...just take it all off. We want to see your belly and naked photos of baby bellies are extremely popular.”

“I, but, what, why?” Jack squeaked and took a step back, looking for an escape route. “That was not what I agreed to!”

He wasn’t going to pose naked for these pictures! He was supposed to be the dignified leader of Overwatch, not some celebrity tabloid-whore looking to stay relevant! He would not allow himself to be dragged down like that and if she honestly thought he was going to be okay with that…!

“Ma’am,” Gabriel cleared his throat as he stepped forward and gently wrapped his arms around Jack’s middle. “Why don’t we take a few pictures in uniform together first, just so the audience knows who we are?”

“And you are…?” the photographer arched an eyebrow.

“Commander Gabriel Reyes,” Gabriel replied coldly. “The father.”

The photographer’s mouth fell open before she started wagging her short tail excitedly. “Ho-ly shit!” she cackled. “Sorry, Commander; I didn’t recognize you without the beanie. Oh, this is perfect! People just eat the ‘friends turned lover’ stuff like crack! I love it. Come on; get in front of the screen and I’ll get the first few shots going.”

“Thanks,” Jack whispered as Gabriel walked with him over to the screen.

“Anything for you, my love,” Gabriel cooed as he kissed his cheek.

The photographer worked her magic on them, getting them in a number of poses before she had them escorted off to be disrobed. The Omega that helped Jack get changed helped him hide his teats tastefully, smiling as he slipped his housecoat over his shoulders. The pictures of him and Gabriel lying naked beside each other with his belly as the centerpiece were even more fun to take.

By the end of the day, Jack couldn’t wait to see the end product. And he wasn’t disappointed when Ana came running into the lunchroom with the latest edition of the world news magazine that loved highlighting Overwatch’s accomplishments and ‘resident sexy men and women’.

The cover had a picture of Jack standing tall and proud with his arms folded behind his back. “Overwatch Strike Commander Expecting Babies - Our exclusive photoshoot with him and the proud father”. There were the usual smaller headings advertising other stories, but Ana flipped past them to get to the picture of Jack and Gabriel with their hands on Jack’s belly in a cheesy little heart.

“Aw,” Jesse teased as Ana flipped the page. “AW!”

Jack smiled at the picture of him and Gabriel resting their foreheads against each other as their hands covered Jack’s belly protectively. The caption read ‘Daddy Dog can’t wait to meet his kittens’. Gabriel smiled, leaning over to kiss Jack’s cheek.

“It’s always an honour to work with Strike Commander Morrison in a photo ops,” Ana read out, “but I was shocked to find out that his mate was Commander Gabriel Reyes. I don’t know why this was kept a secret, but I can tell you that I’ve never seen a more committed and happy couple in my mobile studio. Commander Reyes soothed all of Strike Commander Morrison’s insecurities away and Strike Commander Morrison helped Commander Reyes smile and laugh.”

“Oh wow,” Reinhardt whistled as Ana turned the page to the naked pictures. “I hadn’t realized your belly was that big, Jack. Your uniform hides it well.”

Jack smiled shyly as everyone nodded in agreement. All of the pictures were tasteful and they had touched up his belly to hide how obvious his teats were. Gabriel sighed happily at the pictures, resting his head on Jack’s shoulder as everyone cooed over the pictures.

The one that everyone seemed to love most was the one where Gabriel was gently kissing over his belly where you could just faintly make out a tiny foot pressing up through the fur and flesh. Jack personally preferred the one where he and Gabriel were curled up and holding each other with the covers up over their hips.

“My staff and I wish Jack Morrison and Gabriel Reyes a safe pregnancy and the joys of parenthood in the future,” Ana smiled.

“She’s my favourite,” Jack chuckled as he rested a hand on his stomach and let out a sigh. “But I have to cut the fun short. I have a meeting with the UN to get ready for.”

Everyone whined in displeasure as Jack got to his feet. Gabriel followed him, pressing his head against Jack’s as they walked away. Gabriel kissed his forehead as they headed for Jack’s office, his scent as warm and comforting as ever.

“Those pictures were beautiful,” Gabriel murmured. “That woman is a wizard with lighting.”

“She did make me look good,” Jack mused as they stepped into his office. “And they brushed up the bite marks, you notice that?”

“Well, they do have to keep it somewhat PG,” Gabriel teased as he kissed Jack’s neck. “Can’t let the world see that your mate likes to leave marks to show who owns his heart.”

Jack let out a small laugh as he rubbed his nose against Gabriel’s. “You have just as many love bites, Gabi,” he teased.

Gabriel’s retort was cut off by the alarm going off on Jack’s desk. He got himself settled and Gabriel rolled a chair over to sit beside him as the holoscreen blinked into existence to show the gathered UN officials ready to start the meeting.  

[zombiescantfly]

Words About Games:  Bloodborne (From Software, 2015)

I wanted to finally do one of these for Dark Souls 3, but realized that I'd finally have to do one for Bloodborne first.  This is something I've put off for two years because I wasn't really ready to try to articulate my thoughts about it, but it's time to face these demons and cut them to ribbons in the process.

From Software's deeply, deeply flawed masterpiece of werewolf killing and beast chopping devoured weeks of my attention, and is to date the only game I felt driven enough to 100%.  Which is strange, because after two and a half years, I still can't tell if I liked it or not.  Let's try to sort through this mess.

I'll start by, as I did with Dark Souls 2, outlining my experience.  I played through Bloodborne on three different characters, took one all the way through New Game+, and got the Platinum trophy for getting all the other trophies.  I killed Ebreitas, I slogged my way through all the Chalice Dungeons, and I've gone through the game using each weapon for a respectable amount of time.  But I never ended up buying the expansion, and I wasn't at all broken up when a random brownout during a loading screen deleted all my saves.

Bloodborne is a game that feels more like two halves of very good but separate games inexpertly mashed together to form a perfectly serviceable single game.  It's enjoyable, don't get me wrong; I don't at all regret the time I put into it and have even entertained thoughts of starting over, it's just that I never follow through when I start to think ahead to the second half of the game.

See, Bloodborne starts off as and is sold to you the player as a Victorian-era werewolf/beastman hunting simulator.  And for the first chunk of the game, it is.  A very good one, too!  Combat is speedy and interactive, enemies are grotesque things that were once familiar but now are not, and the environment of a crowded turn-of-the-century English city is a perfect sell.  

The gist is that for currently irrelevant reasons, the city of Yarnham partakes in odd medical practices that involve consuming blood in some manner.  Can't really say if it's by drinking it, injecting it, or by smearing it all over themselves.  You do two of those things.  The blood is great at curing diseases, but has the unfortunate side effect of slowly turning people into a whole manner of gross shit, and occasionally the city locks itself up to allow a force of Hunters to come in and clear out the worst of them.  A perfectly reasonable setup.

So you go through some impeccably detailed environments, cutting down mutated townsfolk, wolfmen, weird birds, gross dogs, and big lumbering dudes who look like when Mr. Hyde wore a three-piece suit in The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen.  

This is easily my favorite part of the game.  The level and environment design is among From’s best, with the twists and turns of Central Yarnham sprawling through sewers and into residential areas, over bridges and across areas you'd been in half an hour ago and didn't realize there was more to.  Capped off by a stroll through what I consider the best-realized “Spooky Forest” in a videogame that leads to a shortcut back to the starting area that made me relive taking the elevator down from the Parish church back to Firelink, the first big chunk of Bloodborne is expertly presented.

And then you get to Byrgenwerth.  Byrgenwerth is the game's Creepy Oxford; hyped up as a massive university where terrible experiments of alchemy and black magic are carried out.  It's supposed to be the place where this all started, where the old scholars got their ideas and unleashed this blood plague upon the city while trying to pursue immortality.  At this point in the game and pretty much until the end, the game tells you that there is no place more important than Byrgenwerth.

So it's a real shame when you get there and it turns out to be a single room.

Byrgenwerth marks the end of the grounded concept the game started with, as well as the end of my fascination with it.  Byrgenwerth marks a massive shift in how the game is presented, how the narrative unfolds, what your purpose is, and why you've come to Yarnham.

Byrgenwerth is where you start fighting aliens.

To be fair, you can do that a tiny bit earlier in the Spooky Forest, down a hidden side path.  But once you beat the boss at Byrgenwerth, you get a cutscene that basically tells you “Yes hello now it is time for weird shit” and then you get teleported to a new part of the city.  And there are aliens.  From this point on, the game ditches the werewolf-hunter angle entirely and makes it all about tracking down this weird baby who’s part alien god or something; Vaati can tell you more about the story if you really care.  

Design-wise, it all starts to wobble a bit.  Levels become smaller, bosses become less mechanically interesting, and everything starts leaning super heavily on Lovecraft.  Weird aliens, possible space-gods, literal body snatchers; it’s all so jarringly different from the first half of the game, and not in a thematically interesting way.  It’s just incredibly different.

Okay, so the first part of the game is, again, essentially a massive single level that spirals and crawls all over itself in a way that is extremely satisfying to go through.  After Byrgenwerth, you’re shuffled through smaller and smaller levels that are barely connected until you just kind of find yourself at the end of the game.  There’s a place called the Lecture Hall that’s supposedly connected to Byrgenwerth, but it’s not anywhere near there, and the two exits on either side of it lead to entirely disconnected areas in The Nightmare Frontier, a place made entirely of bleeding tombstones and poison water, and Nightmare of Mensis, an area that while technically better put together than Lost Izalith, elicits many of the same reactions.

The Lecture Hall is two floors of simple, boxy rooms.  Nightmare Frontier is an uninteresting, flat expanse filled with enemies throwing instant-kill projectiles at you.  Nightmare of Mensis is a big creepy castle guarded by some of the most annoying enemies in the game and populated with the others.  Neither are actually horrible, but the lack of connection to anywhere else is just disappointing.  Add in secret bonus areas that are supposed to have a pretty big amount of plot significance like The Orphanage (a single room) or Cainhurst (a big impressive castle that you barely actually go through) and it all just left a bad taste in my mouth the longer I thought about it.

I said at the beginning that the game felt like two halves of other games inexpertly stitched together.  What I mean by that is that the story of that first game didn't seem done being told.  There was still a lot of mileage I felt that could have been gotten out of the setting, and instead of giving it a satisfying conclusion that rolled naturally into the second half, it was rather unceremoniously cut short to make room for this new thing that suddenly came into existence.  And the problem then with that new thing is that it didn't seem to have nearly as much care and attention put into as did the thing that had just been yanked offstage Vaudeville style, complete with comically oversized shepherd's crook.

My personal preference, then, is that the entire game would have been about this creepy blood plague people get from drinking weird fluids they found in an ancient catacomb.  It could have even gone the alien angle later, maybe saving that for the last third or even the last quarter of the game rather than an entire half.  There just seemed to be so little to go around in the latter half, while the first part still seemed brimming with ideas.  Instead of having us get transported to a secret sealed-off part of the city, have us go down into those catacombs and find what started this whole thing; make the last bit of the game one frantic rush to just barely touch the surface of what's really going on in Yarnham.

But oh wait, they tried that.

Yes, enter the Chalice Dungeons, a system for making procedurally-generated maps and mazes to fight through!  Only the finest square hallways and maddeningly repetitive rooms here, filled full of enemies that didn't make the cut for the main game!  Grind for hours to gather materials to make a new map, all for a chance to find a marginally better Diablo 2-style insertable weapon gem!  Chase that +1.3% increased critical damage, good Hunter!

In a word, Chalice Dungeons are shit.  But they're ignorable shit, there solely for those who find joy in them and the treasure hunting they allow.  Or they would be, if the true final boss of the game wasn't locked in there four-deep.

Throughout the game, you're occasionally given new chalices from boss encounters.  They don't do anything on their own, and are there only to participate in this system.  But you can't just put them on their little altars and hop over to the maps they control, no no no.  You need crafting materials to make the maps, even the ones that aren't procedurally-generated that make up the four story-relevant ones.  You get . . . most of them along the normal course of the game, either through drops from specific bosses or as out-of-the-way item pickups.  Others drop from enemies, so draw your own conclusions there.

The story-relevant dungeons are at least hand-crafted, but it doesn’t do a lot to get rid of the issues.  There’s no real theme beyond “blocky dungeon,” even when mildly-different tilesets add environmental decals and different decorations.  You have a short hallway, a long hallway, an L-shaped hallway, three or four flavors of rooms with enemies in the same places each time, two different trap rooms, and two different big setpiece rooms.  To their credit, they do (sometimes) populate the dungeons with unique enemies and bosses, but as I said above, a lot of the stuff you can only find in Chalice Dungeons feel like leftovers from scrapped main-game content.  

I don’t know what the Chalice Dungeons were supposed to be.  Maybe they were supposed to be a side project that got rolled into Bloodborne when the deadline started to loom, maybe they were supposed to be way more involved and part of a more complex post-game, or maybe they were just supposed to be a neat distraction for people who wanted more.  But the problem with that last one is that you are forced to go through four of these things to get the true final boss, and they are anything but short.  Each dungeon is pretty sizeable, certainly larger that some lategame areas in the main game, and the challenge they pose is on par with the rest (unless we’re talking about Cursed Pthumerian, holy shit that was painful).  I could understand having to go through one heavily-curated dungeon as a way for From to say “hey, come check these out!”  But that there are four of them that make a hefty demand on your time and resources, I just don’t know.  To make it even worse, enemies in Chalice Dungeons only drop materials for crafting new dungeons.  No dungeon-specific weapons or armor in the four of them to reward you, only dungeon crafting materials and those randomized weapon gems for nigh-inconsequential bonuses.  There’s just no tangible bonus for doing these things past what it takes to fight the end boss.

And speaking of resources, let’s dive into that.  The game does away with Dark Souls’ Estus Flask - the rechargeable, always-available but limited healing option.  Instead, we’re taken back to Demon’s Souls-style consumable healing items, with a couple caveats.  There’s only one type, you can only carry 20 at a time, they increase in price from vendors as the game goes on, and later-game enemies, for the most part, simply do not drop them.  

I realize I’ve not actually spent much time on the game’s mechanics, so let me jump back a second to talk about the Regain system.  Combat in Bloodborne was, at the time, much faster than anything in any of the Souls games.  Rather than focusing on slower, more cautious and methodical combat, Bloodborne fully expects you to trade hits with the enemies.  Combat is rapid; your roll is replaced by quick-stepping in any given direction, leading to dodges that cover less distance but that treat avoiding damage as secondary to repositioning.  Even the largest weapons swing quickly, and most hits stagger enemies just enough that the game wants you to dance around groups of them, using a series of unrelenting attacks to manage the crowd rather than waiting behind a shield for your opening.  So when you do inevitably get hit, the game doesn’t want you retreating, it wants you to jump right back in there and earn your health back.  For a short but generous-enough time after taking damage, hitting the enemy will heal you for up to the amount you were at before, and it’s absolutely possible to fully negate the effects of a swipe to the gut.  

So with that in mind, having 20 Blood Vials that instantly-regenerate 40% of your total HP seems reasonable, and it is for much of the game.  Coincidentally, the first half of the game.  Early on, you often face groups of 5 or so enemies at once, or individual ones that are slower.  There, the system works great.  Do a bit of damage, trade a few hits, dash back and use a single Blood Vial to give yourself a safety net, hop back in to finish everyone off.  Get a couple vials back off the enemies as a prize.  Later though, you’re facing down enemies mostly by themselves or with only one other, and they hit much harder while still being fast.  It becomes a lot riskier to try to get the full heal off the Regain system, so maybe you want to dash out and pop a vial.  As you go on through the later levels, it can be a pretty common occurrence to see your Blood Vial counter dwindling; not out of any real fault of your own for not playing well enough, but just because the game, again, expects you to trade hits, and has now changed how your damage matches up versus your enemy’s.  

You can store up to 600 extra vials in your storage box at home base, and your personal stock of 20 is replenished from that total when you respawn or go to a different area, so it’s not like you have to rush back to buy 20 more every time you use them up.  But you do definitely find yourself running out faster at the end of the game than you were previously.  You can only Regain the effects of the most recent hit you take, and nothing past it.  So if an enemy has, say, an uninterruptable frenzy attack that does multiple hits you can’t escape from for a small amount of damage each hit, well . . .  Blood Vials are the only way to regenerate health you’ve fully lost.  In Dark Souls, topping yourself up before a tough enemy encounter was a reasonable thing, because you’d get that estus back at the next bonfire.  In Demon’s Souls, chowing down on some Half-Moon Grass beforehand was fine, you were carrying 80 of the damn things, plus dozens of the other types.  Dark Souls 2 gave you Lifegems to make up for a smaller stock of estus, and even the King’s Field games had refillable health potions mixed with findable and buyable Earth Herbs.  Plus, each of those games had healing magic.  Bloodborne has “fight for the health you just lost” or “heal 40% of your HP, 20 times.”  Yes, as I said before, you can in fact buy more vials, but the increasing price combined with the carry limit make it difficult to rely on getting them that way.  

The game treats bullets much the same way.  Oh, right, you have a gun in Bloodborne.  You use to parry enemies, don’t worry about it.  Like Blood Vials, you can carry 20 on you at a time.  But you don’t just use them to shoot stuff, you also use them as ammunition for certain special attacks, or to cast spells.  So I’ll just come right out and say it, doing “a mage build” in Bloodborne is pretty much a waste of everyone’s time.  You don’t get useful spells until halfway through the game, and you cannot reasonably hope to defeat enemies with magic because you simply don’t carry enough bullets to make it happen.  

So, bullets.  Enemies at least drop them a little more generously than they do vials, and there’s a nifty little thing From put in the game to help you out.  At any time, you can press a button to sacrifice 30% of your health for 5 extra bullets.  It’s a neat system, it plays nicely with Regain, and it helps you conserve resources.  No complaints there.  

Alright, I’ll be honest here.  I’d taken a step away from this massive wall of text for a few weeks, and I think it’s best to just close the book on the whole thing.  If I haven’t been able to show you that my thought on Bloodborne are super conflicted by now, it won’t happen even if I write another five pages.  

Bloodborne is a great game.  Combat is fast and responsive, the graphics are superb, the aesthetic is wonderfully realized, the level design starts off so strong, and the difficulty feels natural.  But Bloodborne is also a mess.  Some systems feel half-baked, the superb graphics combined with too much post-processing leads to slowdown fairly easily, the level design turns to garbage in the lategame, Chalice Dungeons were a mistake, and the game clearly has no idea what it wants to do with itself.  For the third time, it feels like two different, unfinished ideas were mushed together to make a technically finished product, but it just ends up feeling like you’re awkwardly stepping from one to the other.

What I’ve felt about Bloodborne from the first time I finished it is that From had a lot of ideas, but spent far, far too long fleshing them out before actually considering how they would function as a game.  They allegedly started working on it while Dark Souls 1’s Artorias of the Abyss expansion was being made, which gives them around three years to have put the entire thing together.  Quite long for a modern game, but considering that so much changed from the Project Beast trailer that came out 7 months prior to Bloodborne’s release, I just don’t know.  

So much stuff feels like it was cobbled together at the last minute.  It feels genuinely unfinished on a conceptual level.  The actual mechanical gameplay doesn’t suffer for it, but something definitely feels missing from every other part of the game.  Maybe we’ll see it again some day, like March of 2016, or April if you don’t live in Japan.  And then two weeks later on PC for no reason.

[sammactuallyhatesyou-blog]

Oceans Away

When Eren was younger, all he wanted was to see the ocean. And, at the age of twelve, his wish was granted – but at a price. His mother had been suffering from tuberculosis for years, and when she passed away, she left her son in the care of his older sister, Mikasa, who had turned nineteen the same year. Their father, Grisha Jaeger, was rarely at home at the best of times – and it was only in her will did she reveal the beach house her mother had owned. Grisha had never liked being far from the city after all, but Eren was more than happy to move. Life was easy, for the two; Eren started a new school, and Mikasa a steady job – steady enough for Eren to take up a common sport there.

Surfing.

At that tiny beach, however, he was not the only creature who could not live without water. Their first meeting was that first year; then the strange, dark-haired creature disappeared. At the same time the next year, he came back. Never to talk, never to communicate only to... be. Again, and again, every year... Until the creature spoke his own name.

Levi.

COPYRIGHT UPDATE

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. Any unauthorized print or use of this work is strictly prohibited without permission from the author – me. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, places, business establishments or locations are purely coincidental.

 The soft swell of the ocean was doing nothing for his board, but it was certainly doing wonders for the young boy’s mind. His brunet hair had been soaked, but after sitting for so long in the sunshine it was beginning to dry and become the same fluffy, unruly mess that it always was. Eren had stopped trying to tame it years ago – no amount of combing or hair gel could keep it down. Lanky tanned legs swung lazily beneath the surface of the pristine water, the cool liquid a stark contrast for the sun beating down on him with facades of warmth. The peak of summer meant his skin was greasy with sun lotion, the occasional streak of white where he hadn’t rubbed it in properly interrupting the unmarked expanse of gold-brown skin. He hated the stuff; it was impossible to get off (though that was the point, he supposed) and it made his skin oily and gross, but Mikasa insisted he wear it whenever he surfed. The fourteen-year-old understood why, of course, but that didn’t mean he had to like it.

Eren reached up and ran a damp hand through his hair, shifting to lay flat on his board with a sigh so heavy that it almost hurt. There hadn’t been a single good wave all day, but it seemed the perfect day for swimming –- a broken shout interrupted his inner monologue and he startled, almost falling off his board as he turned to see Armin Arlet waving madly from the beach. Eren’s face split into a grin, pearly white teeth bared and green eyes brightening. He made his way back to the beach, almost tripping over his own ripcord in his haste to reach the bouncing blond and causing Armin to laugh at him. He mock-scowled.

“Hey, Min!” He greeted cheerily, finally out of the surf and on the white beach. He bent down to remove the ripcord, the scratch of ripping Velcro making him cringe before he dragged his board further up the beach and enveloped his squealing friend in a wet hug that wasn’t returned, despite the enthusiasm that was put into it. Armin almost whined, looking at the damp patches on his shirt.

“Ahh, Eren, why?” He complained, but he was smiling. He hadn’t seen his brunet friend much over the summer holidays, having been on a three-week camp that his parents had sent him to. Eren couldn’t seem to stop grinning, even when cold droplets of water fell from the tips of his hair and ran down his back causing occasional shivers of discomfort.

“Because you love me.” Eren waggled his eyebrows, looking so utterly ridiculous that Armin had to try and muffle an unattractive snort of amusement, causing Eren to giggle at him.

“Yea, alright, it’s totally platonic though. No homo.” He teased, and Eren stuck his tongue out. It was rather obvious even at such a young age that the Jaeger boy was not into girls in the slightest – he acted like the schoolgirls in his class when it came to celebrity men, and constantly pointed out who he thought was cute whenever he and Armin went into town.

“All the homo.” Eren countered, shaking his head and flinging water at Armin. Armin squeaked, shielding his face as he giggled.

“You dog!” He yelled accusingly. Eren let out a bubble of laughter, shrugging his shoulders and starting towards the house, sand covering his feet and sticking to his skin. It took them a while to reach the house due to their antics, but when they did, Mikasa was already in the door with a towel.

“Hi ‘Kasa!” Eren greeted brightly, taking the towel and slinging it over his shoulders while he went to the outside tap to wash the grit off his feet before drying them off and letting himself inside. He and Armin stayed inside for the most part of that day, playing video games and sulking when Armin thrashed the brunet at Mario Kart II, listening to Armin recount the summer camp pranks, and wrestling over food.

When three o’clock rolled around, Armin’s mother arrived. The boys got another half an hour while his sister stalled for them by offering coffee, but then the sweet blonde picked up her handbag with promises of letting Armin return.

“Thanks for letting ‘Min-min stay, Mrs. Arlet.” Eren spoke somewhat shyly, beaming when the kindly mother reached over and ruffled his hair. “No problem, Eren.” She turned to Mikasa. “Your brother is such a dear.” She gushed, and a flicker of a smile tugged at the ravenette’s pale lips.

“Who, this knucklehead?” She nodded her head at Eren, who had started to scowl at the teasing name. Soon afterwards Eren was hugging his friend goodbye and Mikasa sent them away, one with a sandwich and the other with a coffee.

With almost five hours of sunlight still left, Eren called that he was going to the rockpools, replacing his shirt and pants with sunscreen and a pair of swimming shorts.

The energetic brunet all but tore from the house, feet sinking into glittering white sand as he ran, a soft breeze filling his lungs with salty air. The sun still glared brightly down at him, endless blue coating the sky until it met the deep azure water.

Eren held his arms out as he leapt onto the first boulder, wobbling precariously at times as he made his way to the rockpools, scrambling for purchase and giggling at himself when he slipped. Eventually he made it, sitting on the edge of one of the largest and watching intently. The rockpools were only shallow, but each one was its own little ecosystem – in particular, Eren loved this one as it was filled with black rock, white sand, tiny silver fish and little crabs a red vibrancy of lipstick. When storms hit the beach, large waves always crash over these rocks, hence the creation of the pools; each little ecosystem was washed away and replaced every time.

Eren frowned as he realized the pools were low on water, pouting as he glanced at the sky and saw not a cloud in sight. He hoped that would change soon, as filling up the bowl-shaped pool himself would only disturb the creatures there and possibly cause more damage than letting it fill naturally would.

A loud splash caught his attention and he jerked around, peering out over the ocean around him. The rockpools were in a small cove, so waves rarely made it into here without the help of a westerly wind or a storm. A dark shape flashed in the corner of his eye, but then it as gone –  despite the clear water providing a view of everything beneath it. He put it down to a gull dropping its prize on accident or something, his young mind easily distracted. However, he could not shake the feeling of eyes boring a hole into his back when he turned.

Not ten minutes later he was dozing in the sun when the feeling became more intense, and when he shifted on the sun-warmed rock and opened his eyes, a gurgled shriek of surprise tried to force its way out of his throat. A pair of mercury-silver eyes were trained of him intently, slitted out of wariness and harsh in their glare. Black hair fell over pale translucent skin that was almost grey in colour, and the pointed fin-like ears on the sides of the creature’s head made obvious that whatever it was, it wasn’t human. Eren breath stuttered and his eyes widened further, throat bobbing as he swallowed thickly and tried to make a sound. After a few attempts, he let out a shaky word.

“H-hello.” If he weren’t so scared of this apparently annoyed creature, he would have winced at the way his pubescent voice cracked in fear. The thing’s ears flickered forward at the sound before they flattened against its skull, and Eren’s wide eyes were distracted by a soft sound as a black tail fluke rose from the water. The creature seemed to draw itself closer on its arms, and from there the brunet could see the outline of a thick tail, larger than the rest of the animal and rippling with muscle. The water was shallower here and Eren didn’t know where to look; the lethal black claws digging into the white sand, the powerful appendage trailing from its torso, or the intense gaze t was setting on him Eren didn’t know what to make of it – mermaids don’t exist. Do they?

He swallowed heavily for a second time, watching the thing inch closer with almost curious eyes. Its head rose out of the water and when Eren moved it jerked back, baring its teeth in a hiss and showing off two sets of curved canines, sharp and deadly. Eren froze, breath stuttering.

The two were stuck in a limbo for a while before the sneer began to fade, replaced with a decidedly confused frown. Eren gazed at its face for a moment over the distinctly masculine features – a sharp jaw, narrowed eyes and almost petite nose. Petite, but not feminine in the slightest – this creature was pure power. Grey arms corded with muscle, with scales overlapping from his fingertips to just past his wrist. Other scales littered the skin of his shoulders and torso, with more gathered where the tail met his hips.

“Hi.” Eren tried again, his voice shaky but not as shocked. Scaled, pointed ears flickered again, pressing forwards to catch the sound and the – the mermaid frowned, as if trying to decide what to do with the greeting. A confused chitter bubbled from the pale throat and Eren blinked, apparently having not thought of the language barrier. Eren slowly shifted, moving to press his stomach against the rock seem smaller than he was. He might not have been an academic genius but he knew better than to try and intimidate it, not with the talons lining its fingertips and the teeth hidden behind thin, downturned lips.

It swam closer, apparently just as startled by Eren as the brunet had been with itself. Eren willed himself not to move, breathing softly and dipping his head when it was mere metres away. He heard it stop moving abruptly and glanced at it to see the raven dipping his head as well, grey eyes meeting green with a hint of respect, despite being as dubious of each other as they were.

Eren and the animal began to grow more comfortable with each other’s presence over time, and Eren soon found that he had been so enraptured by it that two hours had passed. He glanced at the sky and clicked in surprise, startling the mermaid and holding his tongue between his teeth in a wince.

“I have to leave.” Eren said softly, hoping the tone of his voice conveyed his disappointment. The raven tilted his head, shaking water from its hair and settling back in a defensive glare when Eren began to stand, ever so slowly. He began to back away from the rocky edge and watched with wide eyes as the mermaid began to swim in small circles, swiftly and almost fretfully. His head burst back out of the water and a croon left his throat, surprising Eren into freezing. A chitter and a burble of something unrecognisable followed quickly, the raven looking around himself almost frantically. Eren frowned a little as it spun around and dove beneath the water, a dark shape the only image left as it retreated quickly. Eren turned to leave and a harsh bark made him jump, causing him to turn and see the mermaid – merman? - glaring at him. Maybe it didn’t want him to leave?

Eren sat down again and the beast looked satisfied, retreating beneath the surface of the water and disappearing. The brunet’s hunch had been right; ten minutes later, it returned.

Eren watched with wide eyes as it didn’t slow down where it had before, maybe even speeding up – A yelp left his throat and he scrambled backwards as the raven-haired creature burst out of the water, clutching at the rocks with another bark as it heaved its torso out of the water. Eren panted hard, scared out of his wits as it gazed at him almost imploringly. He noticed that its hand was clutched around something and the raven’s gaze followed it, seeming to remember something with a jerk before it lashed out, the object flat in its palm. Eren blinked and clicked its tongue, having the nerve to roll its eyes and try to stretch further towards the terrified teenager.

Eren began to recover from the initial shock, sitting back up as he noticed the merman squirming in distaste. His tail was still hanging in the water and the brunet realized that it’s position couldn’t be comfortable before the merman barked demandingly, nodding at its hand impatiently. Its talons uncurled from the object and Eren noticed the shell it had been clutching, mother of pearl glinting in the sunlight with swirls of white, purple, and the same mercury silver that resided in the creatures admittedly pretty eyes.

He slowly reached forward and kept his gaze on the raven for any sign of trap, but saw none as his fingers curled around it and he pulled his hand away, the curled shell resting in his palms. He looked up and watched the merman wriggle, slithering back into the ocean water with a distinctive huff.

“Thank you.” Eren murmured, not knowing if the merman would understand. The raven-haired stranger merely dipped his head again, and after a few more moments he turned away and began to swim, and it didn’t look back.

Eren figured that he should do the same, yet sat there for a while longer, gazing at the beautiful but unexpected gift nestled in his hands. He stood, careful to keep it clutched in one hand safely as he stumbled back to the back and to his house, barely glancing at Mikasa as he walked in and padded to his bedroom. He didn’t emerge until his older sister called for him, announcing dinner was ready – but even then, the shell stayed in his pocket.

 Eren returned to the rockpools every day for almost two weeks, and there was never a sign of his dark-haired friend. Were they friends? Did the mer know the meaning of the word? Eren didn’t know. What he did know, however, was the twang of disappointment that loitered in his stomach when he left for home at sundown every day, without fail. The weeks after that consisted of him at the rockpools every few days, then once a week, and then… he didn’t return. Neither did the raven-haired creature.

Eren never told a soul – not even Armin, who might have been understanding or indulgent in the idea. He told himself that it was because he feared no one would believe him, but in truth, he was more afraid of never seeing the creature again. It was irrational fear, but the shell never left his side.

                                                                              ***

 Four months after his fifteenth birthday, and Eren was far too attached to his new surfboard. To him, it was a thing a beauty – it wasn’t an expensive or a professional board, but it caught him some amazing waves and he loved it like a friend. A mother of pearl coat with shining navy blue designs, intricate and hand-painted by his older sister. This, of course, made him sure that she had seen the sketches he drew endlessly, all of them of the same mer in the same cove, but he didn’t mind if it borne his board.

So, there he was, a lanky, golden-skinned teenager with lean muscle built up over his months of work paddling giddily through crystal clear water towards the cove. He was knocked off his board by a wave he hadn’t looked up to see and a breathless bubble of laughter sounded when his head broke the surface of the water again with a gulp of air. Armin laughed at him and he threw his finger up at his paddle-boarding friend, heaving himself somewhat gracefully back onto his board. Once they made it past the breaking waves he stuck his tongue out at the blond, shaking water from his hair and making Armin wobble then fall as well.

“Karma’s a bitch, my friend.” Eren snorted out a laugh, tipping his head back and watching the now-bedraggled blond struggle to pull himself back onto his neon pink and yellow paddle board. Armin returned the favour by splashing him with his paddle, making Eren sputter. The waves were steadily getting larger and the two laughed again, turning their boards into the waves and paddling forwards again, the small mother of pearl shell that Eren had tied into a necklace pressed between him and the waxed fibreglass.

Eren whooped playfully as he sat back and spun his board around, paddling fiercely to gain speed before the swell of the wave picked him up, throwing his board forwards as he made one swift movement to stand. Armin yelled in delight nearby, both ecstatic to get such a good ride to start off. Eren almost made it to shallow water before he ditched, diving off his board and resurfacing behind the broken wave a few moments later. Armin arrived seconds later, still on his board and smiling happily. Eren grinned up at him, treading the water before he snatched up his board and pulled himself back onto it.

“Man, I told you today was a good day.” He huffed out with a smile, and his friend rolled his ice blue eyes.

“I was the one who checked the weather report.” Armin retorted, looking miffed but playful.

“Well, you’re not wrong.” Eren admitted with a chortle before he began to paddle again.

  Armin frowned as Eren sputtered for breath upon coming up for air, a similar expression on the brunet’s face.

“Man, and it was going so well.” Eren complained, clutching at his board as the waves steadily got rougher. Armin nodded and they both held their breath and ducked under the water as another wave crashed over them.

“C’mon, we should head in!” Armin stated loudly upon resurfacing and Ere nodded in agreement. Armin tucked the paddle on the underside of his board and the two of them remounted, paddling towards the shore. They shouldn’t have gone that far out in the first place, and they both cursed themselves for it. Some of the waves helped to push them along and most of the merely pushed them off their boards, but when Eren stopped resurfacing as fast his blonde friend began to worry. Armin made almost to the shore when he turned to yell to Eren, but he was nowhere to be seen.

Eren yelped underwater as his ripcord pulled taught, his board surging forward with the roll of the wave. A lungful of air escaped him and his eyes watered, scrabbling for the surface where he could see light filtering through the gritty water. A pained gasp sounded as he got his head above water, panting heavily. He glimpsed a blond head of hair near the beach before another wave crashed over his head, pushing him back down underneath the sea’s surface. His ripcord pulled tight again and he felt the Velcro tear, and suddenly the weight was gone, but that left him with no way of knowing which way was up – his arms and legs kicked out and flailed as he began to panic, a mouthful of salty water running down his throat. His vision began to blur and his chest hurt, it ached so harshly that his heart stuttered and his movements began to slow with fatigue.

The last few bubbles of air left his lungs when something barrelled into his side with a jarring sear of pain, and the swift grey shape caused Eren’s first thought to be shark! But then a mouth sealed over his own and forced his lips open. His next thought was what the fuck before he could think no longer, eyes sliding shut. Small amounts of oxygen filtered into his watery lungs and he knew he was moving – no, he wasn’t moving, but something was holding him, moving him – and then he all but blacked out, sluggish and confused and in pain.

What seemed like seconds later a sharp pain echoed on his torso and his eyes snapped open, a wretched cough heaving out of his chest with an additional mouthful of water spewing onto the sand underneath him – sand? Air? A tight grip on his waist kept him grounded as he desperately sucked in his breaths, the rush of oxygen making him dizzy as he rolled onto his side and rid himself of more salt water. Unfamiliar arms cradled him to a cold, almost slimy chest as he was gently sat up, wiping his mouth on his wrist and clutching his shell and his saviour.

“E-Eren?” A scared voice called and Eren looked up wearily, seeing Armin a few metres away, clutching his ripcord and staring at the brunet with wide eyes. If Armin was over there, then… Eren looked up, his vision still watery as a soft crooning reached his ears and a grey figure blurred in front of him. He blinked a few times to move the water and then a somewhat familiar face came into view – mercury eyes, black slicked back hair and scaly skin. Eren gasped and the action caused him to cough again, then the odd crooning growing louder as if an attempt to comfort him.

“You shouldn’t be out of the water.” Eren managed, confusion colouring his words. He almost jumped out of his skin when raspy words reached his ears.

“That is the thanks I receive? The words were thick, like a foreigner putting a new language to use. Well, that was what it was, Eren supposed.

“Thank you.” He croaked out instead, and Armin called his name again. The unfamiliar voice caused the merman to pin his ears back and hissed before Eren pushed feebly at his chest in reprimand.

“It’s okay, he’s my friend.” He whispered, his throat raw. The creature hushed him, but became somewhat less tense. Eventually the grip on his waist was relinquished and the raven pulled away, only to pause and reach out to finger to shell with his talons. “I didn’t know you could talk.”

“The language is… Unfamiliar. I am not used to such sounds.” Indeed, the raven’s mouth shaped the words like he was struggling to get them out at all. Eren liked his voice nonetheless. “You are... Eren?”

The brunet nodded, reaching up to fiddle with the leather cord. The mer nodded back. “I am glad you kept this, then, Eren. It was the only way I would find you again.”

Vibrant green eyes met with silver, doused in confusion and curiosity.  The merman seemed to remember something, jolting away and beginning to shift, grimacing at the feel of sand on his scales.

“I must go.” Was all he said, and as he turned and made for the ocean again. Eren noticed the dark fins fluttering on his arms, from his elbow almost to his shoulder. Two flukes and three sets of fins lined the mer’s tail, the large appendage rippling with corded muscle.

“Wait!” Eren cried out, his voice coming as a rasp. The mer stopped anyway, ears flickering as he turned his head. “Come back tomorrow?” He pleaded, and the raven tilted his head in consideration. “And… You never told me your name.”

The mer seemed to click his tongue in annoyance and used the lethally curved claws to dig into the sand, heaving himself up to rest like a yoga position. Eren’s eyes widened as cool lips brushed his ear, cooler breath brushing over his skin.

“Levi.”

And with that, he was gone.

 His beloved board washed up not a minute later after the last sighting of Levi’s dark tail was gone and then Armin was at his side, shivering with the cold and mouth opening and closing like a fish as he tried to speak. Eren shook his head. “Not now, Min. I’ll tell you when we get inside.”

Armin helped Eren stand and the two slowly made their sodden way back to the house, leaving their boards in the shed with Eren almost whimpering at the sight of his broken ripcord. After the both of them had showered and eaten, and after a thorough panicked lecture from Mikasa, Eren allowed himself to fall face first onto his bed, turning his head and pressing his cheek into the comforter. Armin made himself comfortable on the end of the bed, legs crossed underneath him and blue eyes gleaming in anticipation.

Eren groaned.

Sitting up, the brunet carded his hand through his unruly russet hair and took a deep breath, then stopped. “Ask away.”

“What is he? When did you meet? Is it a he or is it asexual or something? Did I just misgender a fish? Anyway, why didn’t you tell me?

Eren blinked, Caribbean eyes looking hazy after the onslaught. “Geez, Min, you sound like Professor Zoe.” He finally said.

Armin winced sheepishly. “Ah, sorry, Eren. I’m just… He’s incredible.”

“I am ninety percent sure he’s a mermaid – or a merman or whatever – but that’s the first time he’s actually spoken a human language. The first time was just these weird clicks and really low whines.” Armin nodded as his friend spoke, obviously remembering something as he did so, but the blond stayed quiet.

“It wasn’t long after I first moved here that I saw him. Four months after my birthday, actually. Maybe he’s migratory or something? Or just a coincidence?” Armin shrugged and the brunet imitated him with a weak smile. “I was at the rockpools in the cove,” he jerked his head in the general direction, “and he just happened to show up an hour or two later. That’s when I got this.” His fingers wrapped subconsciously around the shell bound in leather.

“Did he give it to you?” Armin asked. Eren nodded, the action seeming to pull him out of a reverie. He glanced up as he continued to talk.

“Yeah. I tried to leave when he looked he was but he didn’t seem to want me to, and kind of yelled at me by barking and growling till I sat back down. Half scared me to death when he came back and almost landed in my lap when he jumped up to the rock-ledge I was sitting on.” He chuckled at the memory. “He handed me this, then left, and I kept going back but he was never there. He said earlier that he was glad I kept the shell because it was the only way he would find me again or something.” He gazed down, fiddling with the shell between his fingers. “I don’t know. Mer magic? I honestly don’t know. I didn’t tell you because… Well, I was a little bit scared you’d just think I’m a lunatic. And, um, don’t laugh at me, but I also thought that if I didn’t keep it as my own little secret, that if I revealed it, it would end up being some weird fantasy or something.” He admitted quietly, letting out a deep sigh. He stood up, searching through one of the drawers of his desk before pulling out a black folder and dropping it in Armin’s lap.

“Basically everything is recounted in that. Don’t laugh at the sketches either, you know I suck at art. They turned out better than expected, to be honest with you.” Armin opened the folder as he listened to Eren’s voice, eyes widening infinitesimally as he took in the array of sketches. From particular parts like the mer’s tail or ears to whole body sketches, ones Eren had seen himself – the way his tail curled when he swam in a circle, or the obvious power and muscle as the creature leapt on the ledge, and even ones that Eren had imagined; Leaping out of the water like a dolphin would, back arched towards the sun, or mouth open in a snarl as he chased after fish.

“Eren, these are…” He trailed off, holding a sheet of paper in each hand and spreading more in front of him. One thing, he noticed, was that on every page, a pair of eyes were drawn. Pen, pencil, calligraphy ink even, the same pair of slitted, narrowed, wide, or hazy eyes were drawn. Armin raised an eyebrow, but didn’t comment.

                                                                            ***

 The next time they met, Eren was waiting. His legs curled underneath him and half-asleep in the sun. He startled and almost fell off the rock as cold droplets of water rained down on his bare torso, and he opened his eyes to a triumphant snicker and the sound of a tail slapping the water. He yawned and rolled over, sitting up and rubbing at his eyes. “Levi!” He cried out, only now fully awake. “You came back!”

Levi slunk through the water with movements as graceful and fluid as a cat, a smirk tugging at those thin, pale lips. “You requested I do so yesterday.” He reminded the brunet, who smiled widely in response.

“I… didn’t know if you would.” Eren admitted. Truthfully, he had been worried that Levi wouldn’t return, but the swelling relief created a warmth in his chest so he didn’t question it.

“I can stay for now, but I must leave again tonight.” Levi hummed, eyebrows pulling together in a small frown as he spoke. Eren found himself frowning as well, but schooled it into an expression of optimism.

“Then if today is all we have, I’ll make the most of it.” He grinned, shifting forwards. Levi watched curiously as Eren sat up on his knees and stood, pursing his lips a little before he nodded his head and leapt off the far edge of the rock ledge, where the water was deeper. Levi watched with liquid silver eyes as Eren’s back arched under the water and feet planted into sand, pushing him upright and allowing him a steady footing as he shook water from his hair and turned his eyes towards the mer.

“And the point of that was…?” The raven asked dubiously, a teasing lilt in his voice even as he struggled around the words. Eren stuck his tongue out like the mature fifteen-year-old boy he was.

“So you wouldn’t hurt your neck by staring up at me.” Eren shrugged noncommittedly, gesturing to the rock ledge. Levi dipped his head.

“Well, thank you for the consideration, then.” He replied, moving to lean back on his hands in the shallow water and curl his tail in front of him. Eren made his way closer, mindful of the growing wariness in those grey eyes and when Levi’s lip began to curl unconsciously he stopped, now in water shallow enough to comfortably seat himself. The crystal clear blue-green of the ocean around him glittered in the sunlight, getting darker where it became deeper and showing off its pretty white sand and abundance of clam and oyster shells.

“Hey, Levi...” Eren started, worrying his plump lower lip between straight white teeth as he thought. Levi hummed in reply, raising an eyebrow as he waited. “Uh… Do – Do you mind if I ask you a coupl’a questions…?” He asked quietly, obviously uncertain of how Levi would react.

The raven only blinked slowly, staring at the brunet for a moment before a small smirk tugged at his lips. “Alright, go ahead – only if for every question you ask, I ask one in return.”

“Sounds fair to me.” Eren smiled, grimacing as a drop of cold water ran from his hair down the back of his throat. The slicked-back russet was already beginning to dry, and he was sure that in no time it would be – unfortunately – as fluffy as it always was. He cleared his throat awkwardly, not exactly wanting to offend this lethal-looking creature.

“So, um... I – I don’t want to upset or offend you or anything and I’m not a very sensitive person, so please me call me out if I sound like a total ass or anything.” Well, that’s a good start. Levi merely nodded, however, so the brunet ploughed on. “Uh… What – are you, exactly?”

Thankfully, the only immediate reaction he got was an amused snort. Levi tilted his head back, leaning heavily on his arms sending a breathy, short laugh towards the sky. When he finally looked at Eren, his lips were curled into a smirk. “Mother of pearl, you humans are so predictable.” The raven teased, and a delicate flush crept up onto Eren’s cheeks.

“Yea, well, what did you expect?” Eren grouched under his breath. “Curiosity is natural, isn’t it? Anyone would be curious.”

“Curiosity can get you killed if you’re a merman.” Levi pointed out, answering Eren’s question in a way.

“So I was right!” Eren grinned, lips pulled back to reveal white teeth. “I didn’t know what to call you so I stuck with ‘mer’ – not that I told anyone about you, except Armin, but I couldn’t exactly pussyfoot around that one.” He added hastily, his voice creeping into something more sheepish towards the end. Levi lost the glare in his eyes and raised an eyebrow.

“Is this Armin kid the yellow coconut from yesterday?” He queried, and Eren let out a soft laugh.

“Yes, but don’t call him that to his face – he might be small but he’s one of the sassiest people you’ll ever meet.”

“… Sassiest?”

Eren blinked, having forgotten that English wasn’t Levi’s first language. “Ahh… Sassy. He doesn’t take shit from anybody. But he does it with words, yaknow?”

“He didn’t look like a very violent person yesterday – but then again he stank of fear, so that’s understandable… Still.” Levi Had to hold down the curl of his lips when Eren’s eyebrows almost met in a frown of confusion.

“What do you mean ‘stank of fear’?”

“Ah-ah-ah, that’s not fair. You ask a question, I ask a question.”

“You asked two!”

“I did?”

“Three!”

“Fuck you.”

“Right, you can swear like a sailor but you don’t know what ‘sassy’ means.”

“Well, I know now, but priorities, Eren.”

“True. Where were we?”

“I was asking a question.”

“Right. Fire away.”

“Why did you keep the shell?”

The question surprised Eren into stillness, and the russet-haired teenager opened his mouth to speak before closing it again.

“Uh…” He stalled, and Levi waited patiently. A light flush of colour began to spread across tanned cheeks.

“It’s stupid.” He ended up mumbling, and Levi’s ears had to strain forward to catch the sound, almost missing it had he not seen Eren’s lips moving. He shook his head and waited for Eren to look up.

The brunet drew a slow, deep breath and let it all out in a rush, blurting a few words on the tail end, breathy and nervous. “I was scared and it was the only proof of you that I had.”

The raven-haired creature blinked slowly. He had to take a moment to process the words, but eventually the smallest twitch of a smile began to curl his lips upwards, inviting Eren to continue.  “I thought I was crazy for a while, y’know? Some unknown, mythical, even legendary creature shows up and hangs around for a few hours before leaving as if he were never there? I thought I’d gone inane. But, then you gave me a tangible thing, a shell that you’d bothered to go find and gave it to me and it was something so pretty and rare that I’d’ve never found it myself…So it had to be from you. It… gave me hope, sort of. Proof that I didn’t need to be locked up or out of the sun, for one thing, but, also proof that you really had been here. And then you came back because of it.” Eren let out the rest of a quiet sigh when he finally finished, a tinge of pink underlying the tan on his cheeks.

Eren hadn’t realized the raven had started moving until a sharp intake of breath made him aware that Levi had begun to curl around him, grey eyes mostly closed and lungs becoming shallow. “I’m glad.” He hummed softly.

Eren swallowed thickly and had to tell himself he hadn’t imagined the tiny lick that had stolen across the bottom of his ribs at his back as Levi curled around his seated figure, dark tail encircling him until Levi had nowhere to go – except up and onto his lap. The brunet went wide-eyed and still, every muscle tense as the lethal-looking merman slid his slick skin across Eren’s until they were pressed chest to chest and Levi had his forehead resting on the boy’s shoulder.

“I’m glad that you cared enough to remember me.” Levi murmured.

“I’m glad you c-came back.” Eren managed to stammer back quietly.

“And I will again.”

“Truly?”

“Truly.”

The two of them were silent, Eren trying not to fidget and trying to relax, Levi closing his eyes and breathing in the strange scent.

Then Levi began to move, slitted eyes still closed and pointed fin-like ears flickering to press against inky hair as his pointed nose began to trail across the golden expanse of young, tanned skin. Eren tried his best to stay still, not wanting to interrupt the raven in whatever he was doing, despite the strange shiver that ran down his spin when oddly cool breath fanned over his throat. His mouth opened to speak and hurriedly closed again when Levi’s search reached his jaw, cold lips brushing the joint of skin between the brunet’s ear and neck as he nosed at the soft valley under Eren’s cheekbone. Eren’s eyes began to slip shut as well, not a sound escaping either of them as the merman continued his travels, cautious and gentle.

It was as if Levi was trying to map out every inch of Eren’s face, as odd as the gesture seemed, but never once did he pause – even when his mouth brushed the corner of Eren’s, noses tucked against each other before he moved on. His breath had become oddly shallow, Eren noticed, when his mouth touched across Eren’s right eyelid. It was only then that the brunet had become entirely lax in the raven’s loose grasp. Levi’s bottom lip dragged slightly up Eren’s temple and eventually he slowed to a stop with his nose brushing the teenager’s chocolate hairline and mouth pressed against the unwrinkled skin of Eren’s forehead.

“Remember me,” It was the softest whisper, so soft that if Eren hadn’t felt the small movement of Levi’s mouth then he wouldn’t have thought he’d spoken at all. He was confused; hadn’t he just proved that he had indeed remember the dark-haired creature? “Please.”

A single word and Eren could feel his heart begin to break. Levi – Levi was going to leave again, wasn’t he? The raven began to draw away when Eren’s breath shuddered out, viridian green eyes refusing to open in fear of them welling with unwarranted tears. He could feel the burn in his nose and a lump in his throat telling him that yes, he was going to cry, irrevocably, and without a proper reason, but that did not matter him. What mattered to him was the soft coo that had begun to rumble in Levi’s chest, unconsciously trying to comfort the torn-up boy.

“Don’t go.” Eren mumbled, his voice weak and lost. He didn’t even understand why – this creature was nothing human, they did not know each other, they had only met twice – thrice, if you counted the day before, and the first time Levi hadn’t even been able to speak a word of any human language. Levi seemed to understand; both Eren’s warring mind and the reason he felt so upset.

Levi didn’t speak, somehow knowing that words would not comfort the young, confused boy. His tail began to uncurl and Eren’s hand shot down to stop the movement, blunt fingernails scrabbling against slippery navy-blue scales in vain. The brunet hiccupped and slowly moved his hand away, eyes still closed. Levi moved away wordlessly.

“I have to.”

Eren clamped his mouth closed against the pointless pleas that threatened to overflow. He only moved his hands to clutch tightly at Levi’s thin wrists whilst he tried to calm himself. The two of them were motionless aside from the erratic rise and fall of Eren’s bare chest for a few for minutes before dulled green eyes began to open, but still not meeting Levi’s.  “I know you do.”

He didn’t know why, but he knew that Levi would have to leave again for another year whether he wanted to or not. Levi began to pull further away and Eren’s grasp loosened until his hands fell into the water with a splash. The raven shifted in front of the boy before raising his clawed hands, gently cupping Eren’s cheeks and running a gentle thumb over the smooth, unmarred skin. “I will return.” It was a promise, and far from an empty one. “I vow to you that I will return. Would you wait for me?”

Eren began to nod, his eyes finally rising to meet with a mercury, piercing gaze as he agreed to – he wasn’t sure exactly, but whatever it was, he would wait for Levi to come back.

The small cove had begun to become their corner of the universe, always providing a way home. White sand, clear water, but nothing was quite as beautiful as the promises the two creatures were making.

“I’ll wait for you. I promise.” Eren murmured breathlessly, his already red-rimmed eyes beginning to well up again. He was frozen still when Levi ducked low, eyelids snapping down tightly and spilling the tears as Levi kissed them away. It was strange, almost unnatural to think that the raven knew of something so intimate, so gentle. Eren felt like he was stood on a firing line, that one wrong move or word would shatter the peaceful world they’d created in a matter of moments like a lead bullet.

  And when the day was over, Eren felt like the sky was falling. His lungs almost felt like there was a giant hand wrapped around them, squeezing all the breath out of him relentlessly until all he could do was sob wretchedly on the beach. One hand was clawing into the soft, gritty sand and the other was clutched around the warm shell bound in leather and hanging from his throat. The pretty shell had become beautiful… One last gift that Levi had given him before leaving. A navy blue and silver scale, rippling in the light almost like an oil spill and pulled from his own tail. The raven had flattened the sharp scale against his thumb and pressed it against the curve of the shell, where it had heated up without explanation and slowly sunk into the hard surface, lining it to keep it secure but leaving its shape and surface to show it off. Levi had promised the boy that it would never fall out, that it would always serve as a reminder that he had indeed existed, and that he would return.

And Eren would wait for him.

When Levi returned to the same place the next year, Eren would be waiting for him.

No matter what.